Phenomenological Inquiry

in Psychology
Existential and Transpersonal Dimensions
Phenomenological Inqu iry
in Psychology
Existential and Transpersonal Dimensions

Edited by
Ron Valle
Awakening: A Center for Exploring Living and Dying
Walnut Creek, California

SPRINGER SCIENCE+BUSINESS MEDIA, LLC

 Library of Congress Ca ta log Ing-In-Pub11 cat ton Data

Phenomeno 1 ogtea 1 inquiry In psychology existential and transpersonal

dimensions / edited by R o n Walle,
p. c m .
Includes bibliographical references and Index.

1. Phenomeno 1 og 1 ca 1 psychology. 2. Existential psychology.

3. Transpersonal psychology. I. Va 11e, Ronald S.
BF204.5.P47 1997
150.19'2—dc21 97-38473
CIP

ISBN 978-0-306-45543-8 ISBN 978-1-4899-0125-5 (eBook)

DOI 10.1007/978-1-4899-0125-5

© Springer Science+Business Media New York 1998

Originally published by Plenum Press, New York in 1998

http://www.plenum.com
10987654321
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in
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 To ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG
friend, mentor, and spiritual guide
 Contributors

Scott D. Churchill, Department of Psychology, University of Dallas, Irving, Texas 75062

Constance T. Fischer, Department of Psychology, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Penn-

sylvania 15282

Paul Gowack, 1339 Milvia Street, Berkeley, California 94709

Steen Halling, Department of Psychology, Seattle University, Seattle, Washington 98122

D. Hanson, Rosebridge Graduate School of Integrative Psychology, Concord, California

94518

Bernd Jager, Department of Psychology, University of Quebec at Montreal, Montreal,

Quebec H3C 3P8, Canada

Jon Klimo, Rosebridge Graduate School of Integrative Psychology, Concord, California

94518

Julie E. Lowery, Department of Psychology, University of Dallas, Irving, Texas 75062

Ourania Marcandonatou (Elite), School of Liberal Arts, John F. Kennedy University,

Orinda, California 94563

Craig Matsu-Pissot, 15303 Northeast 166th Lane, Woodinville, Washington 98072

Owen McNally, Department of Psychology, University of Dallas, Irving, Texas 75062

Kathleen Mulrenin, Butler Hospital, Providence, Rhode Island 02906

Patricia A. Qualls, 26405 Valley View, Carmel, California 93923

Aruna Rao, Department of Psychology, University of Dallas, Irving, Texas 75062

vii
viii CONTRIBUTORS

Faith A. Robinson, 26485 Cannel Rancho Boulevard, Suite 6, Cannel, California 93923

Jan O. Rowe, Department of Psychology, Seattle University, Seattle, Washington 98122

Tania Shertock, Institute of Transpersonal Psychology, San Francisco, California 94131

Ron Valle, Awakening: A Center for Exploring Living and Dying, Walnut Creek, Califor-
nia 94598

Valerie A. Valle, St. Alban's Episcopal Church, Brentwood, California 94513

Damian S. Vallelonga, 201 Sherbourne Roa~ Syracuse, New York 13224

Rolf von Eckartsberg, Late of Department of Psychology, Duquesne University, Pitts-

burgh, Pennsylvania 15282

Thomas B. West, Franciscan School of Theology, Berkeley, California 94709

Timothy West, 512 Malobar Drive, Novato, California 94945

 Foreword

This fine new book, the third in a series, brings psychologists up to date on the advances of
phenomenological research methods in illuminating the nature of human awareness and ex-
periences. In the more congenial and welcoming intellectual climate of the 1990s, phe-
nomenological methods have moved to the forefront of discourse on research methods that
support and advocate an expanding view of science. In Valle and King (1978), phenome-
nological methods were presented as alternatives to behavioral methods. In Valle and
Halling (1989), phenomenological methods were advanced to perspectives in psychology.
This new volume is even less cautious, indeed bolder, in relation to conventional methods
and epistemologies. By now, people knowledgeable about psychology, and most psycholo-
gists, have digested the criticisms directed against methods that operationalize, quantify,
and often minimize human behavior. In bringing us up to date on the growing power of phe-
nomenological methods, this volume brings welcome coherence and integrity to an in-
creasingly harried science attempting to reenchant itself with meaning and depth, an
endeavor artfully exemplified by phenomenological inquiries of the last several decades.
Since the late 1950s, phenomenological methods have provided descriptions and in-
sights regarding the dynamic meaning of human experience. The well-honed and rigorous
method of constituent analysis (not to mention the subtle philosophic vocabulary) of phe-
nomenology has exhausted not a few researchers. It is hard work to carefully examine the
descriptions and articulate the prereflective structures of meanings that humans give to
unique experiences, let alone identify and bracket the researcher's preconceptions and bi-
ases. The fruitfulness of this approach to understanding the meaning and meaning-seeking
nature of human experience is apparent in the numerous phenomenological inquiries de-
scribed in this volume.
In my 25 years as a research psychologist, it has always concerned me that most elo-
quent speakers on the nature of human experience are poets, novelists, playwrights, story-
tellers, and theologians-and rarely psychologists. In claiming radical positivism and
psychological behaviorism as our epistemological imprimatur, psychologists have ignored,
and even trivialized, vast realms of fascinating human experiences. As pointed out by James
F. T. Bugental in his foreword to the second volume in this series (Valle & Halling, 1989),
"The objectivist view of psychology ... regards all that is not familiar as dangerous, myth-
ical, or nonexistent" (p. ix). Psychologists often seem content with meaning-diminishing
methodologies. Marvelously rich topics such as the study of passion, making love, giving

ix
 x FOREWORD

birth, dying, grieving, ecstasy, quietude, and mystical experiences have been largely ne-
glected. There is a uniqueness to being human. So often psychological research methods
fall flat before the fullness of being human, the extraordinary experience of being human
day by day.
To honor this fullness, human awareness and experience must be studied comprehen-
sively and imaginatively. In exploring these vast domains, our methods need to be as dy-
namic as the experiences studied. Unimaginative methods yield ineffectual portrayals of
human experience. The field of transpersonal psychology, which studies psycho spiritual de-
velopment and transformation, especially warrants research methods that honor the vast
and multifaceted nature of our experience. In exploring both the existential and transper-
sonal dimensions of human experience, such methods of inquiry often include narrative and
storytelling, the social and relational context, unexpected insights, and a focused and com-
prehensive examination of the constituents of meaning, as they inform and reveal the sub-
tle and complex nature of human experience.
The paradigms of science are shifting. The stage is set for change. Rollo May, in his
foreword to the first volume in this series (Valle & King, 1978), commends the authors for
presenting methods that he then called the "necessary bridge" to help move us beyond the
elegance of psychological theories to experience " ... the human being as he [she] exists, a
living, acting, feeling, thinking phenomenon, at this moment in an organic relationship
to us" (p. vii). Along with the efficacy of phenomenological methods and the existen-
tial-phenomenological critique, other methods and critiques have loosened the exclusive
hold that the experimental method has enjoyed on psychological research. Some of these al-
ternative views include the counterculture of the 1960s and 1970s, deconstructionism and
the postmodern critique of culture, feminist research approaches, the epistemological in-
sights of quantum and high-energy physics, narrative methods and discourse analysis, in-
depth case studies, heuristic methods, and the concerns about external and effectual validity
taking place within experimental psychology. To quote Adrienne Rich (1979, p. 35), we
must get beyond the "assumptions in which we are drenched." Once thought of as an im-
pregnable epistemology, behaviorism has been besieged by still more complete and far-
reaching ideas and methods.
Some years ago, while I was still a young assistant professor and reluctant to speak up
at faculty meetings, I was listening to a lengthy faculty discussion. We were talking about
our undergraduate psychology majors and wanting to know what they wanted in the way
of curriculum and career guidance. The conversation was lively and imaginative, as we went
on about ways to trick or fool the students into giving us the information. Together, we
thought up all sorts of clever ways to deceive them, by embedding pertinent questions in
regular exams, creating subliminal cues for classroom films, setting up confederates to
record conversations before and after classes, and so on. Finding myself puzzled by the con-
versation, I gathered my courage and gently inquired, "Why don't we just ask them?" A
seemingly long and thoughtful silence ensued, followed by generous laughter at the obvi-
ousness, even innocence, of my suggestion. Years later, I came to realize that simply asking
research participants to describe the fullness of their experience, and then rigorously ana-
lyzing this data, is at the heart of the phenomenological method of inquiry.
This book is unique in another way. Having explored the existential dimensions ofhu-
man experiences such as anger, shame, and forgiveness, phenomenological methods are ex-
tended to the study of transpersonal or spiritual experience as it presents itself to human
FOREWORD xi

awareness. As a transpersonal psychologist, I study topics such as sacred weeping and the
spirituality of landscape, and supervise doctoral students investigating topics that include
the spiritual dimensions of pregnancy, ecstatic movement, identity and acculturation, heal-
ing through sleep and rest, and the story- and myth-making nature of children. I am acutely
aware of the need for creative methods, such as those provided by phenomenological in-
quiry, to investigate experiences with clear transpersonal dimensions. The final section of
this book provides the reader with a tempting smorgasbord of investigations into experi-
ences with obvious transpersonal or spiritual elements. What transpersonal psychologist
would not delight? Being with dying, the practice of loving-kindness, the experience of
grace, the near-death experience, and the nature of suffering are fascinating explorations
into the fullness, and the often mysterious and challenging nature, of human experience.
What is the nature ofbeingjully human? We cannot know who we can be unless we
push the edges of our potential and possibilities. In that way, we create our future in every
aspect of our lives as we live them, including the dimensions of psychological inquiry. It is
the nature of human experience, and indeed of evolution, to become more complex, finely
tuned, and interrelated. The scientific endeavor and its attendant methodologies are not ex-
cepted from this progression. Our research methods and paradigms require more risk, ad-
venture, subtlety, and imagination. If we don't do it now, when will we do it? Who will do
it? And from a postmodern perspective, for the children of the 20th and 21 st centuries, it is
now or never. Modernity is running out of time to save us from our own successes.
Personally, I (Braud & Anderson, 1998) envision a science of psychology that extols
the creativity and possibilities of human experience rather than one that consigns my rap-
turous, transcending, passionate, and painful human experiences to the status of epiphe-
nomena. The concepts of psyche and soul, of course, have long been discarded by a
disenchanted science. It is not surprising that many psychologists are now suggesting that
it is time for the reenchantment of science.
It is ultimately a matter of integrity and, in conventional scientific terminology, valid-
ity. Are we studying something of value and studying it comprehensively? My common-
sense definition of the validity of a study is that it must tell the whole truth about an
experience. To study with integrity the full measure and depth of human experience, even
our methodologies must face straight on the enormity ofbeingjully human. I congratulate
the editor and each contributing author for taking a significant step in this direction by pro-
viding us with this wonderful volume.

Rosemarie Anderson
Institute ojTranspersonal Psychology
Palo Alto, California

REFERENCES

Braud, w., & Anderson, R. (1998). Honoring human experience: Transpersonal research methods in the social sci-
ences. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
Rich, A. (I 979). When we dead awaken: Writing as re-vision. In On lies, secrets, and silence. New York: Norton.
Valle, R. S., & HaIling, S. (Eds.). (1989). EXistential-phenomenological perspectives in psychology: Exploring the
breadth ofhuman experience. New York: Plenum Press.
Valle, R. S., & King, M. (Eds.). (I 978). EXistential-phenomenological alternatives for psychology. New York: Ox-
ford University Press.
 Preface

This volume is both a new book and the third in a series devoted to the application of
phenomenological approaches to theory and research in psychology, its predecessors be-
ing Existential-Phenomenological Alternatives for Psychology (Valle & King, 1978) and
Existential-Phenomenological Perspectives in Psychology: Exploring the Breadth ofHuman
Experience (Valle & Halling, 1989). Since 1989, the phenomenological approach has contin-
ued to grow and has taken its place in the philosophical, theoretical, research, and applied
clinical circles in contemporary psychology. Programs and individual psychologists at
Duquesne University, Seattle University, the University of Dallas, and West Georgia College
remain committed to the existential-phenomenological perspective. In addition to this vol-
ume, books published in the intervening years include titles such as Entering the Circle:
Hermeneutic Investigation in Psychology (packer & Addison, 1989), Insight into Value: An
Exploration of the Premises ofa Phenomenological Psychology (Fuller, 1990), Experiential
Method: Qualitative Research in the Humanities Using Metaphysics and Phenomenology
(Kidd & Kidd, 1990), Being-in-the-World (Dreyfus, 1991), Emotion, Depth, and Flesh: A
Study ofSensitive Space (Cataldi, 1993), and Hermeneutics and Truth (Wachterhauser, 1994).
In this volume, 17 of 19 chapters are completely new to this series, compared to Valle
and Halling (1989), in which nearly half the chapters were revised versions of those that ap-
peared in the original 1978 book. Two other differences are also worth noting. Whereas the
first two books were fairly balanced in terms of theoretical reflections and research, 14 of
the 17 new chapters in this volume present new research studies, while the other three dis-
cuss phenomenological research and related issues. It should be noted that the research
designs used in the chapters that report new fmdings are all of the empirical-phenomeno-
logical rather than the hermeneutic-process variety (Chapter 2 addresses this distinction).
Second, transpersonal-transcendent qualities of human experience now hold the same
status as existential dimensions. In contrast, transpersonal psychology was discussed in a
"special section" in the 1989 book, and not at all, at least not in any formal or explicit way,
in Valle and King (1978). This more balanced distinction is reflected in the division of this
volume into three parts entitled "Foundational Issues" (Chapters 1--4), "Existential Dimen-
sions" (Chapters 5-11), and "Transpersonal Dimensions" (Chapters 12-19), each part with
its own introductory commentary. Although a few chapters could each have been placed in
one or more categories other than the one chosen, they are grouped according to their basic
intent and the nature of their findings.

xiii
 xiv PREFACE

Even with these substantial changes, my basic intent remains unchanged: to provide an
organized and accessible presentation of the phenomenological approach to a variety of rel-
evant topics in psychology that will be helpful to students and colleagues alike. In the
"Foundational Issues" section, for example, introductions to existential-phenomenological
psychology and research are offered, along with new ways to explore the question of relia-
bility in such research, and human subjectivity itself. The "Existential Dimensions" section
offers new research addressing basic issues central to human life, including anger, shame,
and forgiveness. Research studies relating to women's experience in three very different set-
tings, as well as areas defined more specifically as clinical in nature, are also presented in
this section.
The distinction I am making between these more purely existential issues and the
transpersonal dimensions of experience has arisen directly from my own life experience. It
is interesting to me that this very distinction grew out of a process or tenet that lies at the
heart of the existential-phenomenological approach-that is, that experience is the ground
of all knowing-and that this tenet is also held true by the world's great spiritual traditions.
I invite the reader to reflect on those experiences and events in your life that were so pow-
erful that you were left transformed, experiences that were impossible to explain to others,
if not to yourself, experiences that altered the very fabric of your being-in-the-world.
For me, these experiences included a nearly fatal motorcycle accident (which involved
a near-death experience, a three-month confinement in a body cast, a severe concussion, an
extended loss of short-term memory, six operations in six months, and learning to read,
speak, and walk again), the death of my father-in-law from cancer, my mother's suicide, the
birth of three children, my wife's brain surgery, a number of shattered relationships, the loss
of a business, and a dramatic change in my professional career as I had known it-all within
a seven-year period. While I would not wish the suffering that occurred during this time on
anyone, I can honestly say I am now thankful for the changes that went on within me as a
result of what I experienced. I came to realize that self-transformation is quite real and, at
least for myself, that events of this kind were quite necessary for me to become aware on a
moment-to-moment basis of the spiritual/sacred dimensions of my life.
In attempting to understand and integrate these changes that seemingly touched every
aspect of my life (death, sex, love, money, faith, pain, hope, God, grief ... ), I found it nec-
essary to acknowledge and embrace perspectives that addressed realms of being that were
somehow "beyond" the more day-to-day, habitual ways my mind had previously always re-
sponded to the people and things of my world. These are the transpersonal and transcendent
dimensions I speak of in Chapter 12, and the kind of qualities addressed throughout the
"Transpersonal Dimensions" section, more specifically in the findings of the phenomeno-
logical research projects described in Chapters 13-19, which include studies of syn-
chronicity, being silent, being unconditionally loved, being with suffering, being with the
dying, feeling grace, and encountering a divine presence during a near-death experience.
The relationship between the existential and sacred realms of experience has often
been regarded as both mysterious and paradoxical in that, on one hand, they appear to be
quite distinguishable (e.g., everyday versus mystical experience), while on the other hand,
at the very same time, they appear inextricably intertwined (e.g., the intensely human and
"other-worldly" qualities of any self-transforming experience). The results of the studies
presented in these chapters, each situated in its own particular context, appear to collec-
tively reflect this deep interrelationship between the existential and transpersonal dimen-
PREFACE xv

sions of consciousness. It is to be hoped that careful and disciplined reflection on these

findings will shed some light on the nature of this profound connection.
In professional psychology, the dialogue between existential-phenomenological and
transpersonal approaches has taken on new dimensions, most notably at five different grad-
uate psychology institutes, all located in the San Francisco Bay Area: the California Insti-
tute ofIntegral Studies, the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology, the Rosebridge Graduate
School of Integrative Psychology, the Graduate School of Holistic Studies at JFK Univer-
sity' and the Saybrook Institute. Each of nine different research projects reported as chap-
ters in this volume was completed at one of these schools. Recent books contributing to this
dialogue include Heidegger and Asian Thought (parkes, 1990), The Religious within Expe-
rience and Existence (Bourgeois, 1990), and Phenomenology and Indian Philosophy (Chat-
topadhyaya, Embree, & Mohanty, 1992).
In our preface to the 1989 volume, Steen Halling and I invited the reader to adopt a
new attitude, to "look upon the world anew," this invitation echoing the phenomenological
philosopher Edmund Husserl's renowned call for us to set aside our preconceptions and
come "back to the things themselves," to life as we actually experience it. If we now open
to the premise of a transintentional consciousness without an object, and to using the phe-
nomenological approach to investigate transpersonal-transcendent experience, the call be-
comes "back to our true Self," to quieting our intentional minds and thereby becoming fully
aware of who we really are. Here is the ground of a transpersonal-phenomenological psy-
chology, and a perspective that expands the range of phenomenological inquiry to include
all of the recognized dimensions of human experience and being.
I have been in that heaven, the most illumined, by light from Him and seen things which, to utter,
he who returns hath neither skill nor knowledge. For as it nears the object ofits yearning, our in-
tellect is overwhelmed so deeply. it can never retrace the path it followed. But whatsoever ofthe
holy kingdom was in the power of memory to treasure will be my theme until the song is ended.
-Dante, The Divine Comedy

Ron Valle
Walnut Creek, California

REFERENCES

Bourgeois, P. 1. (1990). The religious within experience and existence. Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press.
Cataldi, S. 1. (1993). Emotion, depth, and flesh: A study ofsensitive space. Albany: State University of New York
Press.
Chattopadhyaya, D. P., Embree, 1., & Mohanty, 1. (Eds.). (1992). Phenomenology and Indian philosophy. Albany:
State University of New York Press.
Dreyfus, H. 1. (1991). Being-in-the-world. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Fuller, A. R. (1990). Insight into value: An exploration ofthe premises ofa phenomenological psychology. Albany:
State University of New York Press.
Kidd, S. D., & Kidd, 1. W. (1990). Experiential method: Qualitative research in the humanities using metaphysics
and phenomenology. New York: Peter Lang.
Packer M. 1., & Addison, R. 8. (Eds.). (1989). Entering the circle: Hermeneutic investigation in psychology. Al-
bany: State University of New York Press.
Parkes, G. (Ed.). (1990). Heidegger and Asian thought. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.
Valle, R., & Halling, S. (Eds.). (1989). Existential-phenomenological perspectives in psychology: Exploring the
breadth ofhuman experience. New York: Plenum Press.
Valle, R., & King, M. (Eds.). (1978). Existential-phenomenological alternatives/or psychology. New York: Ox-
ford University Press.
Wachterhauser,8. R. (Ed.). (1994). Hermeneutics and truth. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press.
 Acknowledgments

I give my heartfelt thanks to my parents, Elso and Mabel, for giving so freely to their son
for so many years. I am deeply grateful to my dear wife Valerie and our now grown chil-
dren, Demian, Alexa, and Chris, for not only accepting me as I am, but for encouraging me
time and again to be all I can be. This book is a manifestation in the world of their love and
support. It would not have happened without them. I wish to acknowledge my spiritual
friends, Mary and Christine, for their personal commitment to integrating the sacred into
every aspect of their lives. Their love and support for the spiritual vision from which this
book emerged are truly unconditional.
I wish to thank Lester Embree, Ph.D., Department of Philosophy, Florida Atlantic Uni-
versity, for granting permission to reprint sections of Life-World Experience: Existen-
tial-Phenomenological Research Approaches in Psychology (von Eckartsberg, 1986),
which appear as Chapters I and 2 in this volume.
Last, I wish to thank Rolf, whose insights and interpretations never failed to deepen
my own understanding. His love and enthusiasm for phenomenology and psychology were
so real and so infectious that 27 years later I still feel them each day. I miss you.

REFERENCE

von Eckartsberg, R. (1986). Life-world experience: Existential-phenomenological research approaches in psy-

chology. Washington, DC: Center for Advanced Research in Phenomenology; University Press of America.

xvii
 Contents

I. FOUNDATIONAL ISSUES

1. Introducing Existential-Phenomenological Psychology 3

Rolf von Eckartsberg

2. Existential-Phenomenological Research 21

Rolf von Eckartsberg

3. The Question of Reliability in Interpretive Psychological Research:

A Comparison of Three Phenomenologically Based Protocol
Analyses 63

Scott D. Churchill, Julie E. Lowery, Owen McNally, and Aruna Rao

4. Human Subjectivity and the Law of the Threshold: Phenomenological

and Humanistic Perspectives 87

Bernd Jager

II. EXISTENTIAL DIMENSIONS

s. Being Angry Revealed as Self-Deceptive Protest: An Empirical

Phenomenological Analysis 111

Constance T. Fischer

xix
xx CONTENTS

6. An Empirical-Phenomenological Investigation of Being-Ashamed 123

Damian S. Vallelonga

7. Latin American Women's Experience of Feeling Able to Move Toward

and Accomplish a Meaningful and Challenging Goal 157

Tania Shertock

8. The Intentionality of Psychodiagnostic Seeing: A Phenomenological

Investigation of Clinical Impression Formation 175

Scott D. Churchill

9. Dissociative Women's Experiences of Self-Cutting 209

Faith A. Robinson

10. Psychology of Forgiveness: Implications for Psychotherapy 227

Jan O. Rowe and Steen Halling

11. Women's Psychospiritual Paths Before, During, and After Finding

It Difficult to Pray to a Male God 247

Kathleen Mulrenin

III. TRANSPERSONAL DIMENSIONS

12. Transpersonal Awareness: Implications for Phenomenological

Research 271

Ron Valle

13. Toward a Phenomenology of Synchronicity 281

D. Hanson and Jon Klimo

CONTENTS xxi

14. The Experience of Being Silent 309

Ourania Marcandonatou (Elite)

15. On the Experience of Being Unconditionally Loved 321

Craig Matsu-Pissot

16. On Being with Suffering 335

Patricia A. Qualls

17. The Experience of Being with a Dying Person 359

Thomas B. West

18. The Experience of Feeling Grace in Voluntary Service to the

Terminally III 373

Paul Gowack and Valerie A. Valle

19. On the Encounter with a Divine Presence during a Near-Death

Experience: A Phenomenological Inquiry 387

Timothy West

Name Index 407

Subject Index 413

 I

Foundational Issues

The first four chapters present foundational issues in existential-phenomenological psy-

chology. They each offer material and raise questions considered basic to understanding the
phenomenological approach in psychology.
Chapter I, by Rolf von Eckartsberg, discusses the important concepts and individuals
involved in the process that brought existentialism and phenomenology together as an exis-
tential-phenomenological psychology, with a particular regard for the nature of research in
this context. In this way, Chapter I provides a philosophical and theoretical introduction to
all of the chapters in this book and lays the groundwork for the description of approaches to
research in existential-phenomenological psychology presented in the next chapter.
Chapter 2, also by von Eckartsberg, presents the two general approaches to research in
phenomenological psychology: empirical-structural and hermeneutical-phenomenologi-
cal. The works of van Kaam, Colaizzi, Giorgi, and W. Fischer (all from the Duquesne com-
munity during that time) are offered as examples of empirical phenomenological research,
thereby illustrating a variety of ways in which to arrive at the structural characterization of
the experience being investigated. Hermeneutical-phenomenological research is divided
into two categories: actual life-text studies and studies of recollection and literary texts. The
nature of life-text studies is discussed with an example from the work of von Eckartsberg.
Chapter 3, by Scott D. Churchill, Julie E. Lowery, Owen McNally, and Aruna Rao,
continues the presentation of research issues by examining the question of reliability in phe-
nomenological research. By presenting three different researchers' analyses of the same
protocol, the authors bring to light several key factors involved in understanding the mean-
ing of reliability in interpretive psychological research.
Chapter 4, by Bernd Jager, concludes this section with a unique perspective on the na-
ture of human SUbjectivity. From a disciplined and creative process of self-and-world in-
quiry, he offers reflections and insights that are grounded in the understanding that
consciousness always refers us to an implicit relationship between persons and things, and
that this relationship forms the basis of our awareness of our world. In this way, one may re-
gard Jager's insights-in and of themselves-as the "results" or "findings" ofa hermeneu-
tical process investigation.

1
 1

Introducing
Existential-Phenomenological
Psychology
Rolf von Eckartsberg

Reflective analysis of life-world experience has been the focus of interest of philosophical
phenomenology (Spiegelberg, 1960). Inspired by this work, psychologists and psychiatrists
have begun to build a phenomenologically oriented approach to their disciplines (May, An-
gel, & Ellenberger, 1958; Spiegelberg, 1963). While much of this effort has been oriented to-
ward clinical psychology and psychiatry, some of it is concerned with developing empirical
and hermeneutical methods for doing phenomenological research on psychological phenom-
ena. These research approaches are intended to study the meanings of human experiences in
situations, as they spontaneously occur in the course of daily life. The emphasis is on the
study of lived experience, on how we read, enact, and understand our life-involvements.
In this chapter and the next, I will review the evolution and creative proliferation of
ways of doing such research on human experience and action as they have emerged from
the collaborative efforts of phenomenologically oriented psychologists. This collective
project, in which I have been involved as an active participant for 20 years, has been to rig-
orously develop and articulate a new paradigm: existential-phenomenological psychology.
To this end we have built up a body of human science methods, researches, and theoretical
statements that, we feel, do better justice to human experience than those psychologies that
still restrict themselves to the paradigm of the natural sciences. According to Kuhn (1962),
paradigm shifts involve a radical questioning and reworking of the basic presuppositions

Rolf von Eckartsberg • Late of Department of Psychology, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
15282.

3
 4 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

of a discipline. In our case, the advance of philosophical understanding during the last cen-
tury has been a motivating force by virtue of which a new vision of human nature has
emerged.
Whether a particular psychological paradigm recognizes it or not, its basic under-
standing of human nature, its philosophical anthropology, influences the whole conglomer-
ate of problems, facts, and rules that govern its research. Giorgi (1970) has used the term
"approach" to denote the way a science's basic presuppositions are intimately interrelated
with the content it takes up and the methods it evolves. Thus, it follows that the new philo-
sophical anthropology worked out by the existential and phenomenological philosophers of
our century calls for new methods for the psychologists who hope to revise their field in the
light of these new insights.
Foremost among these insights has been the effort to reject the notion that humans are
merely biological objects whose every thought, feeling, and action can be said to be deter-
mined by a complex network of causes. This conception of human nature, borrowed from
the natural sciences and ultimately from those philosophers who first extended the notion
of causality to human being, is the implicit assumption of much of traditional psychology.
These natural science psychologies have been unable to account for human freedom and the
meaningfulness of human experience. Instead, they resort to quantitative, mechanistic, and
computer models of human nature that, at best, record various regularities of behavior and
make predictions and, at worst, do violence to our forms of self-understanding.
Existential-phenomenological psychology attempts to account for the fullness of hu-
man life by reconceiving psychology on properly human grounds. The model of the nat-
ural sciences, appropriate as it is for such fields as physics and chemistry, is nevertheless of
limited usefulness when it comes to the study of the meaningful character oflived experi-
ence. Thus, it has been suggested (Giorgi, 1970; Strasser, 1963) that for psychology to ful-
fill its promise, this natural science model should be set aside in favor of a truly human
science one. The human science approach recognizes that our privileged access to meanings
is not by way of numbers but rather through perception, cognition, and language. Insofar as
everyday human activity can be shown to be continuously informed and shaped by how we
understand others and ourselves and by the meanings of the situations we find ourselves in,
this is a most significant point. It indicates that the way for psychology to comprehend hu-
man behavior and experience as it is actually lived in everyday social settings is to begin
by soliciting descriptive accounts of our actual experiences in such settings.
Thus, rather than hastily trying to quantify or abstract from everyday experience in the
style of the natural sciences, we begin by more carefully attending to our actual living of
that experience. This is the starting point for existential-phenomenological psychology-
the arena of everyday life experience and action (experiaction}-for which Husserl (1962)
has given us the metaphor of life-world. The life-world is the locus of interaction between
ourselves and our perceptual environments and the world of experienced horizons within
which we meaningfully dwell together. It is the world as we find it, prior to any explicit the-
oretical conceptions.
Of course, the world of experiaction does not stand still waiting for us to study it. Like
time itself, life is forever streaming on and changing. Fortunately, by way of articulation and
reflection, we can preserve our experiaction as narrative, as "life-text," and even submit it
to rigorous and systematic investigation. While we live more than we can say, we can ex-
press more than we usually do if we make the effort, and nothing prevents us from describ-
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 5

ing our experiaction more carefully. With our ability to observe, remember, report, and re-
flect on both our own and others' experience and action, we have a rich source of material
from which to build a truly human science psychology.
In the realization of this project, we acknowledge a heavy debt to the existential-phe-
nomenological philosophers who have formulated the foundational insights for our psy-
chology. These seminal thinkers have tackled many of the persistent and thorny problems
that have always haunted psychology, such as that of free will versus determinism, the
mind-body problem, the nature of perception, language, and action, and so on. Since in
many instances we have taken up their thought and adapted some of their methods to the
field of psychological research, a brief outline of the most vital contributions of existen-
tial-phenomenological philosophers follows.

EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PHILOSOPHY

Existential phenomenology, as it has developed over the decades, has been primarily a
philosophical endeavor. Numerous works, notably Spiegelberg's The Phenomenological
Movement (1960), and Luijpen's Existential Phenomenology (1969), have traced its rich his-
torical development, focusing upon such key figures as HusserI, Scheler, Jaspers, Marcel,
Heidegger, Sartre, MerIeau-Ponty, and Ricoeur, among others. Curiously, the exact origin of
the hyphenated term existential-phenomenology is uncertain, as most of the philosophers
mentioned identified themselves as either existentialists or phenomenologists. Although
bringing both groups together under a single heading could possibly obscure some of their
differences, we feel that the complementary movement of their thought, as discussed here by
Luijpen (1963, p. 36), is a good justification for speaking of existential-phenomenology:
The primitive fact itself of the new movement, of the new style of thinking, was reflected upon
and expressed after Kierkegaard's existentialism and Hussed's phenomenology had, as it were,
fused together in the work of Heidegger. At present it is realized that the new style of thinking uses
as its primitive fact, its fundamental intuition, its all-embracing moment of intelligibility, the idea
of existence or, what may be considered synonymous with it, the idea of intentionality.

As the originator of philosophical phenomenology, HusserI articulated the central in-

sight that consciousness is intentional, that is, that human consciousness is always and es-
sentially oriented toward a worId of emergent meaning. Consciousness is always "of
something." He argued that experiences are constituted by consciousness and thus could
be rigorously and systematically studied on the basis of their appearances to conscious-
ness-that is, their phenomenal nature-when an appropriate method of reflection-that is,
phenomenology-had been worked out. Besides the explication of experiences, which
HusserI considered to be a psychological project, it would also be possible to reflect upon
and articulate the most essential structures of consciousness-that is, phenomena-such as
intentionality, temporality, spatiality, corporeality, perception, cognition, and intersubjec-
tivity, as he in fact did in Ideas (HusserI, 1962), and other later works. As philosophy, phe-
nomenology had thus become the reflective study and explication of the operative and
thematic structures of consciousness, that is, primarily a philosophical method of explicat-
ing the meaning of the phenomena of consciousness.
HusserI's methodology was to begin with the "phenomenological reduction," or
"epoche," which involved the attempt to put all of one's assumptions about the matter being
6 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

studied into abeyance, to "bracket" them. As Giorgi (1981) pointed out, to proceed without
this step when reflecting upon personal experience leaves one open to the "psychologist fal-
lacy," namely, the likelihood that one's judgments about such experiences will be biased by
various preconceptions, wishes, desires, motives, values, and other influences. It was just
this bias of one's uncritical "natural attitude" that Husserl wished to free himself from, in
order to view a given topic from a position as free of presuppositions as possible. Only
when the bracketing or suspending of such preconceptions had been achieved was the nat-
ural attitude said to give way to a more disciplined "phenomenological attitude" from which
one could grasp essential structures as they themselves appear. As Giorgi (1981, p. 82) de-
scribes this process:
Bracketing means that one puts out of mind all that one knows about a phenomenon or event
in order to describe precisely how one experiences it .... Husser! introduced the idea of the phe-
nomenological reduction, which after bracketing of knowledge about things means that one is pres-
ent to all that one experiences in terms of the meanings that they hold out for consciousness rather
than as simple existents.

The assumption of the phenomenological attitude thus implies that we do not describe
something in terms of what we already know or presume to know about it, but rather that
we describe that which presents itself to our awareness exactly as it presents itself. This
movement is crisply formulated in the phenomenological imperative: "Back to the things
themselves!"
By this dictum, the "things" toward which the phenomenological gaze struggles are no
longer "objects" as such (in the sense of naive realism), but rather their meanings, as given
perceptually through a multiplicity of perspectival views and contexts. Along with other
presuppositions, the phenomenologist puts his or her existential belief "out of action," that
is, dispenses with the belief that objects exist in and of themselves, apart from a conscious-
ness that perceives them. When this belief is suspended, what remains is the phenomenon,
the "pure appearance" that presents itself to consciousness. For example, when I eat an ap-
ple, I effectively destroy it as a physical object, and yet it remains as a phenomenon. Its var-
ious perspectival views-that is, its redness, its juiciness, its roundedness, and its other
properties-can remain as a matter of contemplation for me, as what Husserl identified
technically as noema.
Whether or not it is possible to put into abeyance all of one's presuppositons about an
apple (or any other item of reflection) is questioned by some existential-phenomenologists,
among them Merleau-Ponty. According to him, a totally presuppositionless vantage point
cannot be secured, because as we put one presupposition out of action, we uncover more
hidden ones beneath it. He believed that our vital interests and existential involvement with
people and things in the world are of a fundamental character and will not allow themselves
to be entirely undercut. Nevertheless, he considered the aim of the movement of the
phenomenological reduction to be an extremely fruitful one, for by uncovering our presup-
positions and interrogating them, we can clearly advance our understanding of the phe-
nomenon under consideration.
The questions that guide research of philosophical phenomenology would be: What
is the essence of this phenomenon? What are the conditions of possibility for the consti-
tution of meaning by human consciousness? Because phenomenology had to do with the
intuiting of essences, Husserl sometimes called it an "eidetic science." Like any science,
it aimed to provide lasting and objective-universal knowledge, to separate the arbitrary
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 7

and accidental from the necessary and the permanent, that is, the essential. To accomplish
this aim, HusserI (1962) augmented the process of phenomenological bracketing with a
procedure he calledfree imaginative variation. With this method, the noematic object was
to be varied in imagination by altering its constituents in order to test the limits within
which it retained its identify, so as to discover its variants. Applying this to our earlier ex-
ample of the apple, one would begin by modifying its various aspects in our imagination,
so as to engender a manifold of imaginary apples. Although some will be red, like the one
that was eaten, others would be green, and even a purple apple could be imagined. That
we don't find purple apples in actual experience is irrelevant at this stage, for what we
want to discover is the essential structure and the essential constituents of an apple, and
to do so we need to consider the possible alongside the actual. Already we can see that
redness does not belong essentially to apples, although a skin that may be any of various
colors does.
In principle, with a sufficiently thoroughgoing and deep-reaching imaginary variation,
it should be possible to delimit the essence of a phenomenon such as our apple, or of a phe-
nomenon of any other sort. Eventually, those aspects of the phenomenon that could be and
could not be eliminated without altering its basic structure would become evident. As Gur-
witsch (1964, p. 192) wrote:
By means of the process of free variation, these structures prove invariant by determining lim-
its within which free variation must operate in order to yield possible examples of the class under
discussion. These invariants define the essence or eidos of this class, either a regional or a subor-
dinate eidos. They specify the necessary conditions to which every specimen of the class must con-
form to be a possible specimen of this class.

In the main effort of his work, HusserI employed the phenomenological reduction and
free imaginary variation for strictly philosophical pursuits. Nevertheless, he believed these
procedures could be applied to other tasks, and he delimited some relevant domains of
inquiry. Of the greatest concern to us are the distinctions he provided between phenome-
nology and psychology, which were conceived in terms of three separate and necessary do-
mains of investigation. As summarized by Spiegelberg (1960, p. 152):
Pure phenomenology is the study of the essential structures of consciousness comprising its
ego-subject, its acts, and its contents-hence not limited to psychological phenomena---camed out
with complete suspension of existential beliefs.
Phenomenological psychology is the study of the fundamental types of psychological phe-
nomena in their subjective aspects only, regardless of their embeddedness in the objective context
ofa psychological organism.
Empirical psychology is the descriptive and genetic study of the psychical entities in all their
aspects as part and parcel of the psychophysical organism; as such it forms a mere part of the study
of man, that is, of anthropology.

We will see later in our presentation of the empirical phenomenological methodologies de-
veloped at Duquesne University and elsewhere that these distinctions have continued to
playa contributing role, although unlike HusserI's reliance upon various forms of disci-
plined reflection on consciousness in general, the empirical phenomenological researchers
have turned to the analysis of concrete descriptions of lived experience, gathered from the
psychologist's most valuable source of data: other people.
Before we turn to the ways in which existential-phenomenological psychologists have
created empirical and hermeneutical research methods, we want to review some of the results
of the work of existential-phenomenological philosophical reflection that are relevant. From
8 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

a methodological point of view, the work of philosophers is nonempirical. They do not design
experiments, nor do they engage in systematic data-gathering methods or data analysis in a
scientific sense. What philosophers do engage in is careful and systematic reflection upon
and interpretation of human experience. What they reflect upon is life-experience in general
as it is mediated by the accumulated tradition of philosophy itself. The accumulated bio-
graphical and historical stock of knowledge of the philosopher is the context of reference and
source of examples and illustrations for philosophical work.
Phenomenology has been considered to be primarily a contribution of method applied
to the phenomena of human consciousness. Existentialism, on the other hand, has been
characterized as an effort to specify the essential and perennial themes of human existence
in its broadest sense, as finite, embodied, mooded, in time, situated, threatened by death, ca-
pable of language, symbolism, and reflection, striving for meanings, values, and choices,
self-fulfilling and self-transcending, as involving and committing itself to relationships, ac-
countable and capable of responsibility. Existential-phenomenology thus means the appli-
cation of the phenomenological method to the perennial problems of human existence.
Others have said that existential-phenomenology broadens the base of understanding
of our discipline beyond acts of thematic consciousness by recognizing the importance of
prereflective bodily components in the constitution of meaning (Merleau-Ponty); by
emphasizing the existential choices a person makes about his or her life-situation, the "ex-
istential project" (Sartre); or by focusing on the totality of personal existence as being-
in-the-world (Dasein [Heidegger]), including our dwelling in social relations and histori-
cal circumstances. There is still another opinion (Frings, 1965) that sees the unfolding of
the phenomenological movement and the foundation of contemporary European philosophy
as resting on the threefold foundation of phenomenology (Husserl), philosophical anthro-
pology (Scheler), and the ontology of Dasein (Heidegger). Thus, there is much internal de-
velopment within the phenomenological movement, as we shall see.

PHENOMENOLOGY: HUSSERL, SCHUTZ, AND SCHELER

Edmund Husserl
The phenomenological approach centers on the experienced fact that the world ap-
pears to us through our stream of consciousness as a configuration of meaning. Acts of
consciousness, such as perceiving, willing, thinking, remembering, and anticipating, are
our modalities of self-world relationship. They give us access to our world and that of
others by reflecting on the content (i.e., its meaning or "the what") that we thus encounter
and also by reflecting on the process (Le., "the how"). Husserl, the founder ofphenome-
nology, hoped to clarify in a descriptive-reflective manner the foundation and constitution
of knowledge in human consciousness. Phenomenology became the study of human
meanings as constituted by the stream of consciousness. Consciousness itself is under-
stood as being intentional. It is as always directed toward something. As phenomenologists
are fond of saying: Consciousness is always consciousness of something. Consciousness
recognizes and creates meanings that subsequently inhere in the world as experienced.
With Husserl from 1900 on, we enter an era in philosophy and psychology that rec-
ognizes the participation of the subject in the creation of meaning. The subject's role is
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 9

acknowledged even in physics through Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. In both

physics and psychology, the assumption of "objectivity of reality" collapses under the re-
alization that the observer as well as the actor are existentially and epistemologically im-
plicated in the creation of meaning. There is no "really real" world of independent,
objective facts. Rather, the world comes into being for us as meanings that we constitute
and as political realities for which we fight. Husserl's fundamental contribution was to
call our attention to the study of the meaning constituting power of the acts of conscious-
ness. He developed systematic reflection as a research method. In working out some of
the implications and strategies of this new reflective philosophical methodology, Husserl
(1962) discovered the complexities of the horizonal nature of consciousness; that is, our
field of awareness always extends beyond the factually given to that which is implied, re-
membered, anticipated, generalized, or otherwise processed. Husserl focused mainly on
the temporal horizons of "inner time consciousness," that is, on the way people experi-
ence their embeddedness in the stream of time: past, present, and future. He explored
how these horizons cooperate in creating the temporal meaning of the here and now. He
also developed the notion of "inner and outer horizons"-what we might call cognitive
horizons-which refer to contexts of knowledge playing on the here and now. Such hori-
zons contextualize experience in terms of consensually available cognitive frameworks of
perceived meaning. Husserl is the master of the articulation of the "mind space" within
the larger sphere of the unified field of a person's consciousness and existence, "the psy-
chocosm" (von Eckartsberg, 1981).
In his late work, Husserl (1970) developed his idea of the "life-world," the world of
taken-for-granted everyday activities and commonsense meanings. Because we are embed-
ded within the socially constituted meanings of our commonsense world, we are explicitly
aware neither of the taken-for-granted nature of this reality nor of how we constitute it. Yet
this unacknowledged realm of the life-world is the basis of all scientific activity. Scientific
constructs are built on indubitable but taken-for-granted common activities and associated
constructs of common sense. The life-world is the unexamined foundation and matrix of
scientific activity, and phenomenology makes these commonsense constructs and phenom-
ena its object of investigation.

Alfred Schutz
Whereas Husserl was concerned with how we construct our reality in general, Schutz
(1962, 1964, 1966) focused more specifically on our construction of social reality. He took
up the challenge of Husserl's phenomenology and related it to sociology and social psy-
chology. He was primarily concerned with articulating the commonsense structures of con-
sciousness, which he called typifications of consciousness, by means of which individuals
comprehend the nature of social reality and are enabled to act in everyday life.
Temporal typifications articulate our experienced life-world in terms of the "world
within restorable reach" (the past), the "world within reach" (here and now), and the "world
within attainable reach" (the future). A related set of temporal constructs concerns our
social partners in life as predecessors, contemporaries, and successors, in terms of which
our biographical stock of knowledge is organized. For Schutz, the experienced scheme of
temporality itself is formed from the interplay of lived-time, social calendar time, and cos-
mic time, which regulates the natural rhythms of days and seasons.
 10 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

Schutz devoted much effort to an articulation of the biographical stock of knowledge

organized in terms of what he called hierarchical orders of typifications (schemes of in-
terpretations, recipes for action, or role conceptions) and in terms of schemes or orders of
relevance that both express the interests and motivations of individuals and groups and the-
matize the world in a relativistic manner. His work opened up within phenomenology the
phenomena of encounter, social interaction, and the reflective articulation of intersubjec-
tivity. His important and fertile studies of the social structures of the life-world have been
extended and deepened by the work of Peter Berger on the social construction of reality
(Berger & Luckmann, 1966) and on problems of modernity (Berger, Berger, & Kellner,
1973) and by the work of Maurice Natanson (1970) on the structure of the "journeying
self" engaged in self-other-world typifications. The work of phenomenology has become
increasingly recognized and important for mainstream sociology.

Max Scheler
While the main concern of Husserl and Schutz was to articulate the purely rational
structures of human being, Scheler (1961) was preoccupied with the phenomenological de-
scription and analysis of the nonrational essences in experience with invariant structures in
emotional life. Scheler was the phenomenologist of values, feelings, social sentiments, and
love. He forged a philosophical anthropology guided by the basic notion of personhood as
a spiritual reality, by the belief in the essentially social nature of human existence, by the ab-
soluteness of values and the eternal in human nature. His concern was to determine the
place of human being in the cosmos. His starting point was the irreducibility of the person
as ens amans, as a loving being and as the ethical being, and his method was a phenome-
nological one that he developed in an originary way.
Scheler explored the phenomena involved in the immediate apperception and emo-
tional cognition of values-value-ception: value-awareness and value-perception-that he
considered to be prior to and hence foundational for all other acts of cognition. Scheler was
a passionate proponent of the primacy of the emotional and vital sphere. He worked out an
influential phenomenology of ethics that articulated an objective hierarchy of values rang-
ing from sensible to vital values-both values of life-and then to spiritual values and the
value of holiness-both values of the person. Scheler made important contributions to the
phenomenology of religion. He brilliantly described the key interhuman phenomena of love
and hate, and the variety and forms of sympathy (Scheler, 1954a). He provided us with the
exemplary study of the phenomenon of resentment (Scheler, 1954b) (resentiment), and he
made important contributions to the sociology of knowledge, distinguishing three types of
knowledge: knowledge of control, as in the aspirations of science and technology; knowl-
edge of essences, as in the aspirations of philosophy, metaphysics, and phenomenology; and
knowledge of salvation, as in the religious quest for spiritual fulfillment. Scheler's philo-
sophical anthropology has been called ethical personalism within a Christocentric spiri-
tual tradition emphasizing the multidimensional nature of human existence as bodily-vital,
egoic-mental, and personal-spiritual. The highest good must be personal. Scheler empha-
sized love and the study of the ordo amoris-the configuration of love-as the core of the
person and as the foundation for social relationships and societal forms. Seheler's work has
great originality and masterful phenomenological subtlety. It is fertile and offers many chal-
lenges and invitations for corroborative psychological work (Frings, 1965).
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 11

EMERGENCE OF EXISTENTIAL·PHENOMENOLOGY:
HEIDEGGER, SARTRE, AND MERLEAU·PONTY

The pure phenomenology of Husserl was later enriched by the "existentialist move·
ment" in the tradition of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche. Expanded into existential-phenome-
nology, associated primarily with Heidegger, Sartre, and Merleau-Ponty, it recognized the
importance of preconscious lived-experience, that is, the phenomenon of the "lived-body."
It emphasized that being-in-the-world involves more than human consciousness and en-
compasses the total embodied human response to a perceived situation. Such insights led
existential-phenomenologists to focus their research on human situated experience. Inten-
tionality became redefined as a dialogal, relational dynamic of self-other interaction. Exis-
tence refers to the concrete, biographical, and embodied life of named persons who are
characterized by uniqueness and irreplaceability. Existential-phenomenology studies exis-
tence in terms of the person's involvement in a situation within a world. It aims in its ulti-
mate objective at "the awakening to a special way oflife, usually called authentic existence"
(Spiegelberg, 1963, p. 255).

Martin Heidegger
The main contribution ofHeidegger (1962, 1971) lies in his radical questioning of
the traditional Cartesian subject-object distinction, which leads to a dualistic universe and
the dichotomy of subjective consciousness versus objective matter. With the subject-
object split as an operative life-world assumption, there is always a gap and separation to
be bridged between the two ontological realms of matter and consciousness, leading to un-
resolvable epistemological difficulties. But if we conceive of our existence completely in
relational and field theoretical terms as a field of openness into which things and the world
appear and reveal themselves in a dynamic way (Dasein as being-in-the-world), then we
can avoid this problem. Persons are not selves separated from a world that is presumed to
exist completely independently of them. Rather, they are personal involvements in a com-
plex totality network of interdependent ongoing relationships that demand response and
participation.
Heidegger advanced the thesis that the world comes into existence for us in and
through our participation. He worked out the essential structures of being-in-the-world as
grounded in care, that is, in concernful presence and openness to the world and others. He
developed the general approach of phenomenology into an interpretative understanding of
Dasein's total being. He called this approach the hermeneutics of existence, that is, the in-
terpretative characterization of existence in the world.
Heidegger's work issues a call for action, personal movement, authentic participation,
and a change in one's way of thinking from the calculative to the meditative mode. The
movement depends on one's resoluteness to face basic existential contingencies, primarily
the anxiety over one's own death. It requires one to acknowledge one's self as an illumina-
tor and creator of one's world. Heidegger also talked about ultimate horizons and concerns.
He postulated qualitative transformations in authentic moments and movements of personal
existence. By doing so, he brought in a transpersonal context and went beyond a strictly ra-
tional world view. His attitude and concrete examples of existential-hermeneutic work
(Heidegger, 1971) place him in kinship with the tradition of Zen (von Eckartsberg, 1981).
 12 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

Jean-Paul Sartre

Sartre (1953, 1968) contributed greatly to the "existentialization" of phenomenology

through his challenge that "existence precedes essence." According to Sartre, the person is
the totality of his or her life choices, for which he or she is fully responsible. His idea of
the fundamental project of a person's life refers to the way each person chooses himself or
herself. This project can be disclosed by existential psychoanalysis, Sartre's method of per-
sonalistic reflection that was applied in his famous book-length case studies.
The concept of fundamental project is of great potential value to clinical and person-
ality psychology. It refers to the unique configuration of meaningful existential choices,
that is, the total web of existential moves a person makes. The project is the inner principle
of coherence that we can perceive and articulate in our own and others' lives.
The study of individuals entails gaining an understanding of how they go about the
actualization of possibilities, their "not yet." Sartre emphasized that one is always moving
beyond oneself toward something else. He worked out what he called a "progressive-
regressive" dialectical method that is said to be able to betray the "secret of the self,"
namely, the implicit purpose for which one strives. Sartre's method aims at comprehension,
a mode of understanding wherein one lives the existence of the other in intuitive and em-
pathic behaviors. To comprehend the action of another, we enter the original situatedness of
that person biographically in terms of the operative historical and cultural conditions (re-
gressive move); we seek to understand the purpose or goal choice that governs the direction
of the action taken (progressive move) by means of which the person surpasses the givens
in the direction of his or her possibles.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty

Merleau-Ponty (1962, 1968) widened the meaning of intentionality to include prever-

bal thought (thinking that exists in action) or the prepersonal dimension of bodily intentions
and meaning. He maintained that the acting body always already understands its situation
as well as its own possibilities quite before we pay any explicit attention to it. For Merleau-
Ponty, intentionality, no longer merely a matter of cognitive consciousness, includes the life
of embodied existence and interactive communication that precedes and is the foundation
for explicit and thematic consciousness.
In the most global terms, Merleau-Ponty speaks of the mystery that I am part of the
world and that the world is an extension of my body. Body and world mutually imply each
other and are of the same nature. They stand in a relationship that he characterizes asj'en
suis ("I belong to it"). This is the primordial ground of all of our awareness, a kind of pro-
longation of our body that Merleau-Ponty in his later writing expresses metaphorically as the
flesh ofthe world. The subject-object dichotomy of traditional thinking is overcome by Mer-
leau-Ponty. We are always in the midst of the world and have no vantage point outside of it.
We can never achieve total clarity even in our reflective and critical orientation because we
cannot fully penetrate the darkness of our primordial awareness in which meaning is always
already constituted. We cannot attend the birth of meaning in our life. Bodily existence itself
is a giver of meanings. Our body has the power of expression; it gives rise to meaning.
Our body gives us our power of motility, the "I can" or "I am able to." This happens on
a prereflective level, on the level of operative intentionality, of practognosie, to use Mer-
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 13

leau-Ponty's term. By virtue of our embodiment, we find ourselves always already situated
and capable of meaningful interaction.
Merleau-Ponty has contributed greatly to our understanding of the person as a partic-
ipant in and creator of meaning-even as a creature condemned to meaning. He also makes
us aware of the limits of our power of reflection and of the fact that we fmd ourselves in a
situation of essential ambiguity, of chiaroscuro, not being fully able to penetrate the sources
and origins of our meaning making. This ambiguity is grounded in our bodily participation
in being and on the paradox that we are ourselves constituted by the very being we become
aware of. Merleau-Ponty rejects both materialism and idealism, that is, the reduction of the
person's world to an idea. He establishes his own position of existential-phenomenology,
which is the middle ground centering on one's embodied subjectivity and focusing on the
primacy ofperception.

FROM INTENTIONALITY TO RELATIONSHIP-BUILDING

AND DWELLING

We have surveyed how Husserl's original inspiration of phenomenology has under-

gone significant development and change through the work of his successors. If we focus
on the key phenomenological notion of intentionality, we can gain a measure of the devel-
opment that has taken place in our thinking.
Originally, intentionality was metaphorized as an "intentional arrow" symbolizing the
one-directional act of ego--cogito--cogitatum, an ego directing its attention toward an object
and thereby revealing the sense or meaning of the object. Reflecting on intentionality re-
vealed to Husserl the existence of horizons or halos extending from the perceptual or cog-
nitive objects and linking those objects to their relevant contexts of interpretation and
familiarity cognitively, that is, in terms of outer horizons; perceptually, that is, in terms of the
horizons engendered by bodily movement; and temporally, that is, in terms of inner time-
consciousness. Husserl's early phenomenological work focused primarily on cognitive
meanings. In his later work, Husserl expanded the notion of intentionality to include opera-
tive intentionality, that is, the intentionality of spontaneous and competent autotelic body-
movement. We could metaphorize this as "auto-pilot intentionality." Merleau-Ponty takes up
and elaborates this idea in the context of his notion of the lived-body, the "body subject" (Ie
corps propre) and motility. By means of our bodily insertion into reality, we are always al-
ready vitally responsive to the demands of our situation on our body. Our body moves in
terms of prereflective intelligence and lived involvement that exceed our conscious aware-
ness and control. Operative intentionality establishes and utilizes secret bonds of correspon-
dence and interdependency: reciprocal involvement. In this way of thinking, the "intentional
arrow" has become a two-way street of interaction, interexperience, and co-constitution.
For Scheler, the primordial human act is one of value-ception. He emphasizes the
emotional and transrational nature of our relating to the world and to one another, and he
concentrates on loving and hating, that is, value-laden acts by means of which we construct
our lives. For Sartre, the notion of intentionality is linked with existential choices and radi-
cal freedom to make commitments and to choose our future. Sartre's key notion in this con-
text is the existential project, characterizing the way a person chooses his or her long-range
life commitments and life direction in and through all particular acts of involvement.
 14 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

In Heidegger's hyphenated notion of being-in-the-world, which radicalizes the sub-

ject-object notion and bridges the subject-object split, Dasein's basic ontological structure
is characterized as care, concernful presence, world-openness. The priority of the subject,
or person, or ego, yields to the unitary and coequal relationship of mutual implication or
"relational totality": caring-being-in-the-world. In his later work, Heidegger develops this
notion into dwelling, by which he means our caring, sparing, spatializing, and temporaliz-
ing presencing and eventing of being, what we might call culture-building. Revealed by a
new epistemological attitude, by meditative, responsive, "thanking thinking" (von Eckarts-
berg, 1981), dwelling is concerned with our authentic presence to our situations, our things,
our people. Heidegger ushers in a normative dimension: our concern with the authentic and
good life in deep relationship to the ground of Being.
In my reading, the concept of intentionality in the phenomenological tradition seems
to continue to evolve. We can discern a spectrum that ranges from intentionality in the orig-
inal Husserlian sense to relationship-cultivation and culture-building or dwelling in the
sense of the later Heidegger. As we widen the context of understanding of the contributing
dimensions in the constitution of meaning to include the role of our self-moving body, our
essential intersubjectivity, and our embeddedness in language and culture, the meaning of
intentionality changes from an emphasis on mostly cognitive understanding to one of exis-
tential engagement in the creation of a way of life (dwelling). Heidegger's understanding of
dwelling is kin to the understanding and praxis of Zen and Taoism.
Thus, over time, our understanding of intentionality undergoes a shift in emphasis or
focus, from consciousness to culture-building acts, from value-free phenomenological re-
flective analysis operating under the self-imposed disciplines of several steps of bracketing
(epoches) to passionate value-engagement and existential commitment. We move from the
primacy of knowing to the primacy oflife praxis, to enactment.

THE EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL APPROACH

IN PSYCHOLOGY

The existential-phenomenological approach to psychology proceeds on the assump-

tion, as we all do in everyday life, that identically named experience refers basically to the
same reality in various subjects. In the words of van Kaam (1966, p. 312):
This basic identity of experience is an axiom in psychology.... This axiom seems to be
confirmed by daily experience .... If we collect descriptions (of a named, i.e., linguistically
specified experience) then we have to assume that others are focusing their attention on basically
the same kind of experience that we are when we describe our experience. This statement is
founded on the supposition that experience, with all its phenomena, is basically the same in var-
ious subjects.

In other words, we have to rely on the supposition that people in a shared cultural and
linguistic community name and identify their experience in a consistent and shared manner.
Our shared everyday vocabulary, including both ordinary language and those psychologi-
cal terms that have filtered down from professional psychology, constitutes our access to
experience, which is always to some extent already linguistically organized. Van Kaam
refers to this basic identity of experience as an "axiom" underlying all of psychology. While
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 15

we do not think it to be an axiom, at least it is a fruitful working hypothesis to be checked

by empirical analysis. It gives us a starting point in working toward linguistic consensus and
the establishment of communication communities.
The interrelationship of language and experience is a difficult psychological conun-
drum. How is it that we can say what we experience and yet always live more than we can
say, so that we could always say more than we in fact do? How can we evaluate the ade-
quacy or inadequacy of our expression in terms of its doing justice to the full lived quality
of the experience described?
How are thought and life interrelated so that they can be characterized as interdepen-
dent, as in need of each other, as complementing each other, as interpenetrant? Living in-
forms expression (language and thinking) and, in turn, thinking-language-expression
reciprocally informs and gives a recognizable shaped awareness to living. Meaning, expe-
rience as meaningful, seems to be the fruit of this dialogue between inchoate living and ar-
ticulate expression. Whereas living is unique and particular, that is, existential, thinking
tends toward generalization, toward the universal, the essential, the phenomenological.
Our life takes place within this tension, "in between" these levels of participation. This
tension and interdependence between life and thought is expressed in the very name of our
approach as existential-phenomenological and constitutes what we might call the existen-
tial-phenomenological paradox. In The Journeying Self, Natanson (1970, p. 66) writes
about this:
If Phenomenology depicts the typical, Existentialism shows the unique; if Phenomenology
deals with essence, Existentialism handles concreteness; if Phenomenology is interested in the struc-
ture of consciousness, Existentialism is concerned with the reality of the individual. It would seem
these philosophies represent divergent standpoints rather than complementary approaches to human
reality. That they are congenial, indeed intimately inter-sustaining and supporting views of man is
the methodological thesis on which we have proceeded. What appears to be a paradox is a meta-
physical duality which affects all philosophizing as it does the reality which all philosophizing is
about. In classical and traditional terms the duality has been called the Universal and the Particular,
or Thought and Life. The question is how the truth of the world in general is related to the truth of
individual experience and how a theoretical system can understand the immediacy of the person.

We can express this formulation in terms of a diagram that places life and thought in
dialectical opposition. It bespeaks the same tension as that between existentialism, which
focuses on the problems and themes of life itself, of existence, and phenomenology, which
focuses on the explication of the intentional structures of consciousness in general.
This tension is inherent in the very organization of language, which can move on
either or both levels simultaneously, with descriptive specificity and uniqueness as well
as in the mode of universalizing conceptualization and judgment. Language can encom-
pass and interrelate both levels through mixed, multileveled discourse, and by means of
such expressive tools as metaphors, symbols (Murray, 1975), and Proper Names (Rosen-
stock-Huessy, 1970). Each of these latter three linguistic structures constitutes a special
class of "concrete universals" (Natanson, 1970), useful in aesthetic, religious, moral, and
legal discourse.
Let us indicate the mystery of the interdependence of these two extreme levels of ex-
istence, this mystery of the intertwining and copenetration, by the ancient Chinese symbol
of Yin-Yang, which visually dramatizes and represents the living reality of this mutuality,
of "one within the other" (see Figure 1).
 16 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

Figure 1. The yin-yang symbol representing the implicit interdependence/tension between the phenomenological!
as understood and existential/as lived realms.

With some justification, we can say that the mystery of existential-phenomenology is

concealed in the hyphen itself. It indicates the difficult expressive problem of languaging
the simultaneity and interpenetration of both living and thinking, of spontaneous enactment
and reflective explication.
The systematization and "proceduralizing" of the movement from implicit to explicit
by existential-phenomenological psychology is essentially a formalization of an everyday
activity and general human ability: to reflect on experience. First we report and describe-
narratization-and then we think further about something in order to conceptualize it. We
keep asking: What does it mean? What does it say? What is concealed in it? What becomes
revealed through dwelling with it patiently? What secret lies hidden therein? This is the re-
flective attitude, that is, openness and listening to Being in all its particular manifestations.
This is the basic descriptive-reflective approach utilized by existential-phenomenologists.
It is a skill anyone can acquire for himself or herself and integrate into his or her living as a
meaning-enhancing depth dimension of self-development.
How to invite and initiate newcomers into this approach can be a serious pedagogi-
cal problem! It can be entered into if we begin gently with the first linguistic step of ex-
pression and description of the experienced flow of living, expressing a particular
experience that we specify and identify by giving an account of it, by trying to bring it to
as full and accurate an articulation as possible. We create a life-text. From there, we move
toward the reflective study of this description, focusing on the essential meaning-
constituents contained therein, the "experience moments" (van Kaam), the "meaning-
units" (Giorgi), the "themes and scenes" (w. Fischer), or the "psychological plot" (von
Eckartsberg), which can be inductively synthesized into an essential, structurally inte-
grated description of the universally valid meaning of the phenomenon under considera-
tion. This process involves a dynamic dialogue between two levels of description: the
everyday level of narrative language and the more general and condensing achievement
of reflective analysis, that is, structural conceptual language. Existential-phenomenolo-
gists refer to this general process of meaning-articulation as explication, as noted by van
Kaam (1966, p. 305):
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 17

By explication, implicit awareness of a complex phenomenon becomes explicit, formulated

knowledge of its components.

By means of explication, we are to discover what the necessary and sufficient con-
ditions and constituents of the type of event under study are, that is, what the structure
of the phenomenon under investigation is. Explication, like any form of interpretive
reading or hermeneutics, is a qualitative research procedure in that it wishes to arrive at
an understanding and circumscription of what the phenomenon essentially is as a lived
human meaning (structure) and how it is lived by individuals in their everyday existen-
tiallived contexts (style).
The existential-phenomenological approach in psychology tries to be empirical in
the sense of basing itself on factual data that are collected for the purpose of examina-
tion and explication. As explained by Giorgi, Fischer, and Murray (1975, p. xi):
Our research is empirical in that shareable, replicable observed events or personal reports are
its data. Moreover, we remain true to each of the individual subjects' ways of embodying the gen-
eral structure that we discover through examination of specific, situated instances.

In another formulation (Fischer & Wertz, 1979, p. 136):

By empirical we refer to a) our reflection upon actual events and to b) our making available
to colleagues the data and steps of analysis that led to our findings so that they might see for them-
selves whether and how they could come to similar findings.

In contrast to existential-phenomenological philosophers, who tend not to specify

the "database" upon which their reflections are founded, the existential-phenomenolog-
ical psychology researchers presented here are very explicit about the research design of
their investigation and the methodological steps of data analysis and explication. In the
tradition of experimental psychology, they are guided by strict considerations of verifi-
ability and replicability. But in contrast to the traditional quantitative approach in psy-
chological research, which uses statistical analysis of sets of data collected in terms of
a strict hypothesis-testing research design, the existential-phenomenological approach
in psychology does qualitative research, that is, meaning analysis and explication of
descriptions of life-world experiences. Qualitative research is a form of content analy-
sis covering a spectrum of approaches ranging from what has been called empirical-
phenomenological psychology to hermeneutical-phenomenological psychology-
depending on the "data source" that underlies the reflective-hermeneutic work. Giorgi,
Knowles, and Smith (1979, p. 179) state:
Empirical-phenomenological psychology has long been aware of this hermeneutical activity
as intrinsic to research. The question remains, then, how does a hermeneutical-phenomenological
psychology in the strict sense differ from the standard empirical-phenomenological research con-
ducted at Duquesne University for the past 20 years? The essential differences would seem to re-
late to the grounds (database) upon which the interpretations are based and the procedures for
arriving at these interpretations. Up to now, empirical-phenomenological psychology proceeded by
collecting protocols descriptive of the subjects' experience (e.g., learning, envy, anxiety, etc.) and
then systematically and rigorously interrogating these descriptions step-by-step to arrive at the
structure of the experience. Hermeneutical psychology suggests another data source and a differ-
ent method of analysis.

Hermeneutical-phenomenological psychology focuses on the works of great litera-

ture, on myths, autobiography, and works of art, including film, theater, and television, and
thus widens the database and the understanding of the meaning of life-texts to include
18 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

fictional and creative accounts as acceptable data for reflective-interpretative activity

(Gadamer, 1975; Ihde, 1971; Palmer, 1969; Polkinghorne, 1983). In terms of the work of
explication, the interpretative activities of hermeneutical-phenomenological psychology
are as yet less well defined and more idiosyncratic than those of empirical-phenomeno-
logical psychology, although the attempt is always made to be as explicit as possible about
the steps of the movement from concrete experience and description to universalizing con-
ceptualization so that the reader can verify and replicate the process for himself or herself
(Wertz, 1984).
The data source for existential-phenomenological psychological studies can vary from
the collection of many protocols of described experience to the utilization of a single ac-
count of one subject. The data may also come from audio and videotapes and from speak-
aloud protocols (Aanstoos, 1983) or from thinking out loud (Klinger, 1978). The focus of
the investigation can be directed at arriving at the general structure of a phenomenon in
terms of a synchronic formulation of essential constituents or at a process structure of a
phenomenon that delineates the diachronic unfolding of the phenomenon in terms of es-
sential stages aligned sequentially (Ricoeur, 1979).
Several empirical and hermeneutical models for the explication of phenomena using
the existential-phenomenological approach have been described in the literature. Van
Kaam (1966) led the way with the publication of Existential Foundations ofPsychology, a
wide-ranging work that emerged out of his doctoral studies and the research methodology
developed for his 1958 dissertation. In 1970, another seminal work appeared, Giorgi's
(1970) Psychology as a Human Science. In the same year, Duquesne also began publica-
tion of its Journal ofPhenomenological Psychology, which presents the ongoing struggle
for rigorous methodology. Notable among the publications that followed are the four vol-
umes of Duquesne Studies in Phenomenological Psychology (Giorgi, Fischer, & von
Eckartsberg, 1971; Giorgi et aI., 1975, 1979, 1983), the most complete and detailed record
of the work of the Duquesne group; Colaizzi's (1973) book on methods, Reflection and
Research in Psychology; and Keen's (1975) A Primer in Phenomenological Psychology.
More recently are the collection of essays edited by Valle and King (1978), Existen-
tial-Phenomenological Alternatives for Psychology; Conceptual Encounters (de Rivera,
1981); and Psychological Life (Romanyshyn, 1982). The most recent publications on em-
pirical existential-phenomenological research are Exploring the Lived World: Readings in
Phenomenological Psychology (Aanstoos, 1984) and Phenomenology and Psychological
Research (Giorgi, 1985).
This review of research on the analysis of life-world experience presents some pro-
totypical examples to illustrate the range and diversity of the spectrum of human science
methods as it has evolved in the work of the Duquesne group and other phenomenologi-
cally oriented psychologists. For a full and exhaustive representation of the accumulated
research, we refer the reader to the original publications and the works cited above.
Our aim in the next chapter is to present the concrete ways in which this research and
these kinds of qualitative analyses are made so that the reader will have a working famil-
iarity with the design and methods of such work and with the types of language used to pre-
sent the realities of such investigations. We hope that this presentation and illustration of the
ways of doing analysis of life-world experience from a phenomenological perspective will
encourage and enable the reader to engage in his or her own research into the meaning con-
figurations of human experiences.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY 19

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Aanstoos, C. (1984). Exploring the lived world: Readings in phenomenological psychology. Carrolton, GA: West
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Berger, P., Berger, B., & Kellner, H. (1973). The homeless mind. New York: Vintage Books.
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Fischer, C. T., & Wertz, E J. (1979). Empirical phenomenological analyses of being criminally victimized. In
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Frings, M. (1965). Max Scheler. Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press.
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Polkinghorne, D. E. (1983). Methodology for the human sciences. Albany: State University of New York.
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Schutz, A. (1966). Collected papers: Volume 3. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

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Georgia College.
 2

Existential-Phenomenological
Research
Rolf von Eckartsberg

There are two general approaches or orientations to research in existential-phenome-

nological psychology: empirical and hermeneutical-phenomenological. This chapter
will examine each of these in tum.

EMPIRICAL EXISTENTIAL-
PHENOMENOLOGICAL STUDIES

The empirical existential-phenomenological branch of research has a structural ori-

entation that aims to reveal the essential general meaning structure of a given phenome-
non in answer to the implicit research-guiding question: What is it, essentially? Empirical
existential-phenomenological studies focus on the analysis of protocol data provided by
research subjects in response to a question posed by the researcher that pinpoints and
guides their recall and reflection. There is a clear-cut general progression in the various
genres of this type of research. We go first from unarticulated living (experiaction) to a
protocol or account. We create a "life-text" that renders the experiaction in narrative lan-
guage, as story. This process generates our data. Second, we move from the protocol
to explication and interpretation. Finally, we engage in the process of the communica-
tion of findings.

Rolf von Eckartsberg • Late of Department of Psychology, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
15282.

21
22 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

Steps in Conducting Empirical Existential-Phenomenological Research

Step 1. Problem and Question Formulation: The Phenomenon
The researcher delineates a focus of investigation. One formulates a question, a "hy-
pothesis." One has to name the phenomenon, that is, the process in which one is inter-
ested, in such a way that it is understandable to others. Doing so is easy if the researcher
names conventional and universally recognizable phenomena. It is difficult if the re-
searcher studies phenomena that he or she has discovered and that have as yet no con-
sensual meaning.

Step 2. Data-Generating Situation: Protocol Life-Text

In the empirical existential-phenomenological approach, researchers start with de-
scriptive narratives provided by subjects who are viewed as co-researchers. The co-
researcher reports on his or her own experience in writing. We query the person in his or her
experiaction and engage in dialogue, or we combine the two, asking for a written descrip-
tion first and then engaging in an "elaborative dialogue" (von Eckartsberg, 1971).

Step 3. Data Analysis: Explication and Interpretation

Once collected, the data are read and scrutinized so as to reveal their "psycho-
logic," that is, their structure, meaning configuration, principle of coherence, and the
circumstances of their occurrence and clustering. In the traditional quantitative mea-
surement-oriented approach, this step involves categorization and statistical treatment of
group data organized in terms of sums, averages, percentages, and measures of disper-
sion and convergence. In the qualitative existential-phenomenological approach, em-
phasis is on the study of configurations of meaning in the life-text involving both the
structure of meaning and how it is created. This explication brings out implicit meanings
by means of systematic reflection. Reflection is the return in consciousness to scrutinize
a particular event via its record in memory or as a life-text. As we reflect, we are guided
by questions such as: "In what way is this description revelatory of the phenomenon I am
interested in?"
In order for the life-text to reveal itself, we must approach it with an explicit concern
expressed as a specific question. We call this the explication-guiding question because it
gives focus as we question the text about its meaning.
The explication-guiding questions for the disclosure of situated and general structures
are these: How is what I am reading revelatory of the meaning of the phenomenon in this
situation? This question yields the situated structure of the phenomenon. What does the text
and/or the situated structure tell me about the phenomenon in its generality and universal-
ity? What is its meaning essence? These more universalizing questions yield the essential
general structure of the phenomenon.
Wertz (1984) discusses the problems of phenomenological sense-making or explica-
tion in conducting empirical existential-phenomenological research under the headings of
(l) the general stance of the researcher, (2) the active operations of empirical reflection on
the individual example of the phenomenon, and (3) the operations used to achieve general-
ity of understanding.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 23

As far as the stance is concerned, the important points are:

1. Empathic presence to the described situation.
2. Slowing down and patiently dwelling.
3. Magnification, amplification of details.
4. Turning from objects to immanent meanings.
5. Suspending belief and employing intense interest.
The use of active cognitive operations involves:
1. Recognition and utilization of an "existential baseline."
2. Distinguishing constituents.
3. Reflection on judgment of relevance.
4. Grasping implicit meanings.
5. Relating constituents.
6. Imaginative variation.
7. Conceptually guided interrogation.
8. Psychologicallanguaging.
As to the explication and articulation of the phenomenological findings as universal
insights into and constituents of the phenomenon, Wertz (1984, p. 24) considers the fol-
lowing features to be essential:
1. Finding general insights in individual reflections. Since general features of the phenome-
non are included in individual cases, the researcher may interrogate a single individual structure
and find immanent generality.
2. Comparing previously analyzed individuals. In comparing individual psychological struc-
tures of her phenomenon, the researcher discards divergences and retains convergences in her con-
siderations of generality.
3. Generation and imaginative variation ofnew instances. In order to extend general insights
beyond the previously analyzed individuals, the researcher personally recollects and fancies new
examples and counterexamples of the phenomenon to more incisively delineate the essential con-
stituents and boundaries of her specific level of generality.
4. Explicitformulation ofgenerality. The researcher formulates her general knowledge of the
phenomenon in a language which describes the specified diversity of instances included in the gen-
eral class under consideration, whether it be a specific group, general type, or universality.

Step 4. Presentation of Results: Formulation

One's research findings must be presented in public form for sharing and criticism.
These formulations present what we have called the "essential constituents" or the structure
of a phenomenon, articulating what "it really is" as a human meaning.
Two different kinds of communication networks are involved in the presentation of re-
sults: the participants in the research themselves and fellow researchers. The "subjects" get
a "debriefing" about the experiment in everyday language, while the "fellow experts" in the
researcher's community, who share the professional relevancy structure and interest in the
phenomenon, are communicated to in their shared expert language or professional idioms.

Examples of Empirical Existential-Phenomenological Research

Following are four examples of empirical existential-phenomenological research: the
work of Adrian van Kaam, Paul Colaizzi, Amedeo Giorgi, and William Fischer. These
 24 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

examples are presented to show the variety that exists within this approach and, more specif-
ically, to illustrate how we arrive at universal structural characterizations of the phenomenon.
In order to present this overview of qualitative methods for the analysis of life-world experi-
ence, I have summarized their research work. For a full appreciation of the differentiatedness
and subtlety of this kind of research, the reader must turn to the original publications. 1

On Feeling Really Understood: Adrian van Kaam

Van Kaam (1966) is the founder and originator of the empirical existential-
phenomenological psychological approach at Duquesne University. He characterized "em-
pirical phenomenology" as a "return to the existential data." About phenomenological re-
sults in general, van Kaam (1966, p. 295) says: "Research performed in this way is
pre-empirical, pre-experimental, and pre-statistical; it is experiential and qualitative." In
Chapter 10 of Existential Foundations of Psychology (1966), entitled "Application of the
Phenomenological Method," he reports on his Ph.D. research at Western Reserve University
in 1958. Doing his dissertation at that time within a traditional quantitative research-
oriented psychology department and within a Rogerian client-centered clinical orientation,
van Kaam chose to develop his methodology as a variant of content analysis, a traditional
quantifiable research methodology. Being also interested, however, in the qualitative and
meaning-oriented philosophical approach of existential phenomenology, he chose to do his
research both quantitatively and qualitatively using a large sample of subjects in his proce-
dure. Let us look at the steps in his research procedure.

1. Problem and Question Formulation: The Phenomenon. Van Kaam (1966)

took his topic and focus of investigation from within a clinical psychology context-
research in psychotherapy-and the specific frame of reference of a Rogerian client-cen-
tered approach. Van Kaam (1966, p. 298) reports:
I have selected one relatively simple concrete phenomenon that appears in psychotherapy. The
patient at times "feels really understood" by the therapist. What is the fundamental structure and
meaning ofthis experience of feeling understood?

In order to shed light on this problem, van Kaam needed to collect "data." Studying ex-
periences, he needed descriptions of experiences-narrative descriptions. His first task,
therefore, was to devise a research situation by means of which he could obtain such "data."
He chose to formulate a specific question to be answered in writing by a large number of
subjects-a question that he hoped would elicit responses (descriptions as "data") that he
could then study as to their meaning-organization. Van Kaam (1966, pp. 320-321) thus de-
vised the following instructions:

Describe how you feel when you feel that you are really being understood by somebody.
a. Recall some situation or situations when you felt you were being understood by somebody;
for instance, by mother, father, clergyman, wife, husband, girl friend, boy friend, teacher, etc.
b. Try to describe how you felt in that situation (not the situation itself).

IVon Eckartsberg's (1986) presentation of Giorgi's and W Fischer's approaches in Life-World Experience contains
examples of their particular styles of analysis using actual text from the protocol descriptions they each collected
in their respective studies. These rather lengthy tables are omitted in the abridged version of his presentation of-
fered in this chapter.-Ed.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 25

c. Try to describe your feelings just as they were.

d. Please do not stop until you feel that you have described your feelings as completely as
possible.

2. Data-Generating Situation: Collecting Descriptions. Several criteria had to be

met: Van Kaam knew that he wanted verbal descriptions of experiences in response to a fairly
delineated and directed question. In other words, he wanted descriptive narratives. To obtain
them, he gave instructions so as to sharpen the focus of the descriptions-the phenomenon
of being really understood by somebody. In terms of the writing of a response, van Kaam had
to rely on the "natural story-telling ability" of his subjects (von Eckartsberg, 1979). This is a
taken-for-granted expressive power that existential-phenomenological psychologists have to
rely on. We have to rely on the everyday meaning-making skill of everyone-the ability to ex-
press one's experience in words, in the form ofa story. As Crites (1971) claims: The very or-
ganization of human experience seems to be given to us in awareness as narrative.
In terms of the justification for using the procedure of written descriptions, van Kaam
(1966, p. 310) states the following:
I. Feeling understood is a relatively common human experience.
2. Common human experience is basically identical.
3. This basically identical human experience is expressed under the same label.

3. Data Study Procedure: Explication. After the "data" were obtained as narrative
descriptions of experiences, the next task was to "work" with these data, to "analyze"
them-that is, to "study" and "process" them-so as to lead to results, findings, and con-
clusions. Van Kaam (1966) calls the procedure he uses explication, a term taken from exis-
tential phenomenology. This "scientific phase of explication" includes the following steps:
"listing and preliminary grouping, reduction, elimination, hypothetical identification, ap-
plication, and final identification" (p. 314).
Following standard praxis in content-analysis procedures, van Kaam divided his total
sample into subgroups of approximately 80 each in order to arrive at results that could then
be checked by fellow researchers and tested for interjudge reliability. The preliminary re-
sults were then tried out on the remaining samples in order to achieve further validation of
the analysis. This multi-sample procedure and concomitant interjudge-reliability-check
necessitate the complication of the steps called "hypothetical identification" and "applica-
tion" in van Kaam's procedure. These intermediary steps have not been used by later exis-
tential-phenomenological researchers, who typically work with very small samples or even
individual case studies and who have given up the process of obtaining interjudge reliabil-
ity measurements, relying instead on full presentation of all steps of the explication and on
an appeal to immediate intuition on the part of the reader's immediate personal experience
for a sort of "existential validation," testing any statement or proposition against the per-
sonal stock of experience that serves as the ultimate criterion of evaluation.
Van Kaam (1966) distinguishes six steps ofexplication:
3a. Listing and preliminary grouping.
The first operation of the scientist is to classify his data into categories. These categories must
be the result of what the subjects themselves are explicating. Therefore, the scientist makes his ini-
tial categories from empirical data, in this case, a sufficiently large random sample of cases taken
from the total pool of descriptions (pp. 314-315).
26 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

3b. Reduction. The second step in the explication process is now undertaken and again tested
for interjudge reliability.
Now that the elements are laid out for him in a quantitative and qualitative fashion, the re-
searcher can proceed with the second operation of the scientific explication. He reduces the con-
crete, vague, intricate, and overlapping expressions of the subjects to more precisely descriptive
terms.
3c. Elimination. The third step concerns a process of checking and elimination of non-rele-
vant elements.
By means of the same operation, he now attempts to eliminate those elements that probably
are not inherent in the feeling of being understood as such, but rather are complexes which include
being understood in a particular situation, or which represent a blending of the feeling of being
understood with other phenomena that most often accompany it (p. 316).
3d. Hypothetical identification.
The operations of classification, reduction, and element-elimination result in the first hypo-
thetical identification and description of the feeling of being understood. The identification is
called hypothetical because it was hardly possible to take into account at once all the details of all
the descriptions during the element-elimination.
This is referred to by van Kaam as a hypothetical "formula."
3e. Application. We now enter a new phase, Application, which itself may have several steps
within it. The work in this step consists in:
The application of the hypothetical description to randomly selected cases of the sample. This
tentative application may possibly result in a number of cases of feeling understood that do not cor-
respond to the hypothetical formula. It may be that the formula contains something more than the
necessary and sufficient constituents of feeling understood. In this case, the formula must be re-
vised in order to correspond with the evidence of the cases used in the application.
In other words, from the larger "data pool of description" (N = 365!) new samples are pro-
gressively drawn so as to check the "hypothetical identification formulas" against new evidence.
This is continued until a satisfactory level of redundancy is achieved. This then gives rise to the last
step, Final Identification.
3f. Final identification.
When the operations described have been carried out successfully, the formerly hypothetical
identification of the phenomenon offeeling understood may be considered to be a valid identifi-
cation and description (p. 316).
Van Kaam (1966) clearly stated the aim of the process of explication as being to answer the
question: "What are the necessary and sufficient constituents of this feeling?" (p. 301). This ques-
tion is to be answered by the Final Identification, which turns out to be a "synthetic description of
the experience" that brings together, in a cluster, all constituents synthesized by the researcher into
one description. On the way to this formulation, van Kaam reports on his findings.

4. Presentation of Results: Formulation. From step 3a, van Kaam (1966) reports
that he arrived at a total of 157 different expressions listed under 16 different headings
(p.323).
From step 3b, Reduction, which he now refers to as the "Phenomenological Explica-
tion of the Data" (p. 323), he (p. 324) reports that:
In the operation of further "Reduction," each one of the 157 expressions had to be tested on
two dimensions:
I) Does this concrete, colorful formulation by the subject contain a moment of experience
that might be a necessary and sufficient constituent of the experience of really feeling understood?
2) If so, is it possible to abstract this moment of experience and to label the abstraction briefly
and precisely without violating the formulation presented by the subject?
Next, all expressions discovered in this way, as either direct or indirect representatives of a
common relevant moment of experience, were brought together in a cluster. This was labeled with
the more abstract formula expressing the moment common to all.
The reduction resulted in nine probably necessary and sufficient constituents, each of them
heading a certain number of expressions in which they were originally contained, and each of these
expressions accompanied by the percentage of descriptions in which it was present.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 27

The constituents which were identified in this way as being together necessary and sufficient
for the experience under study had to be synthesized into one description which then identified the
total experience of really feeling understood.

The results of this work of explication are then presented by van Kaam as a "Syn-
thetic Description" with an amplification of each of the terms used in the description
quoted here in full, so as to allow us to inspect the procedure close up. In this way, we ar-
rived at the necessary constituents of the experience under study, with the following gen-
eral operational definition: A necessary constituent of a certain experience is a moment of
the experience that, while explicitly or implicitly expressed in the significant majority of
explications by a random sample of subjects, is also compatible with those descriptions
that do not express it. Nine constituents were finally identified as being together necessary
and sufficient for the experience of "really feeling understood." These constituents are
condensed in Table 1.
The synthetic description of the experience of really feeling understood, containing
these constituents, is given below, followed by a justification and explanation of each
phrase of the description (van Kaam, 1966, pp. 324-327).
The experience of / "really / feeling understood" / is a perceptual-emotional Gestalt: / A sub-
ject, perceiving / that a person / co-experiences / what things mean to the subject / and accepts
him, / feels, initially, relief from experiential loneliness, / and, gradually, safe experiential commu-
nion / with that person / and with that which the subject perceives this person to represent.
The experience of' The term experience is preferred to feeling because the data show that this
phenomenon, commonly called feeling, contains perceptual moments too.
really: The adverb really added to feeling understood emphasizes the distinction between ob-
jective and subjective understanding. The latter includes the "what it means to me" element and the
emotional involvement of the subject.
feeling understood: This popular expression is maintained because it is used by most people
when they express this experience spontaneously.
is a perceptual-emotional Gestalt: The data compel us to distinguish between perceptions and
feelings (emotions), the former being predominantly object-directed, the latter subject-directed.

Table 1. Constituents of the Experience of "Really Feeling Understood" Finally Identified, with
Percentages of 365 Subjects Expressing Each Constituent, Explicitly or Implicitly

Percentages
Constituents of the experience expressing
of "really feeling understood" the constituents

I. Perceiving signs of understanding from a person 87%

2. Perceiving that a person co-experiences what things mean to subject 91%
3. Perceiving that the person accepts the subject 86%
4. Feeling satisfaction 99%
5. Feeling initially relief 93%
6. Feeling initially relief from experientalloneliness 89%
7. Feeling safe in the relationship with the person understanding 91%
8. Feeling safe experiential communion with the person understanding 86%
9. Feeling safe experiential communion with that which the person understanding is
perceived to represent 64%
 28 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

But the perceptions and emotions are interwoven in experience; the term Gestalt implies that the
distinction we make between perceptual and emotional moments does not correspond to a separa-
tion in reality.
A subject, perceiving: The perceptual moment is mentioned first because of its priority in
the explications obtained. The feeling of really being understood presupposes the perception
of understanding as it is evidenced by various behavioral signs of understanding.
that a person: The subject perceives that a "person," a fellow human being, understands him
in a personal way. The understanding person is not experienced only as an official, a teacher, an
adult, or so on, but as being-a-person.
co-experiences: The understanding person shares at an emotional level the experiences of the
subject understood. The prefix co- represents the awareness ofthe subject that the person under-
standing still remains another.
what things mean to the subject: The subject perceives that the person understanding experi-
ences the events, situations, and behavior affecting the subject in the way in which they affect him,
and not as they might affect others.
and accepts him: Even while sharing experiences of the subject which the person understand-
ing does not accept personally, he manifests exclusively and consistently genuine interest, care, and
basic trust toward the subject, whether or not the subject intends to change his views, feelings, or
behavior.
feels, initially, relieffrom experiential loneliness: The initial feeling of relief is the joyous feel-
ing that experiential loneliness, a disagreeable perceptual-emotional Gestalt, is receding to the de-
gree that real understanding is experienced. The adjective experiential specifies that it is not
primarily a physical loneliness, but a being-alone in certain psychological experiences.
and, gradually, safe experiential communion: This expresses that the subject gradually expe-
riences that the self is in the relieved, joyful condition of sharing its experience with the person un-
derstanding. Safe emphasizes that the subject does not feel threatened by the experience of sharing
himself.
with that person: The deep personal relationship between the subject and the person under-
standing is prevalent not only in the perceptual, but also, and still more fundamentally, in the emo-
tional area. Therefore our synthetic description not only opens, but also closes with a reference to
this person-to-person relationship.
and with that which the subject perceives this person to represent: When the person under-
standing typifies for the subject a certain segment of mankind, or perhaps all humans, or all beings,
i.e. humanity and nature, or the all-pervading source of being, God, then the subject will experience
communion with all those beings which are exemplified for him by the person understanding, and
do this to the degree that this person is perceived as their representative.

If we compare the existential-phenomenological work of van Kaam with a more tra-

ditional approach in psychological content-analysis work, for instance, McClelland's work
on the need for achievement (Brown, 1965; McClelland, 1953), we can note several simi-
larities and several crucial differences. What is identical in the two ways of proceeding is
the shared starting point: the collection of data as descriptive stories in response to a task
given by the researcher.
McClelland uses adapted pictures of the Thematic Apperception Test (TAT) and asks
several leading questions that are to be answered. Van Kaam uses many subjects, a "large
sample," similar to the traditional measurement-oriented approach. The more subjects, the
more confident the traditional researcher feels about the validity of his or her data and the
generalizability of his or her findings.
Another identical commitment is the use of independent judges to establish interjudge
reliability and thus achieve a degree of objectivity and measure of consistency in the tradi-
tion of the empirical scientific discipline. What is crucially different, however, and a con-
sequence of the existential-phenomenological orientation-which is suspicious of attempts
to bring in and in a sense "impose" a preconceived theoretical scheme on the data, although
in any linguistic approach this can never be fully prevented-is van Kaam's insistence on
letting the experience moments of the phenomenon reveal themselves from the description,
 EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 29

as much as possible. Husserl gave us the injunction "Back to the things themselves!" Exis-
tential-phenomenologists generally are convinced and work on the assumption that the data,
that is, narrative descriptions, reveal their own thematic meaning-organization if we, as re-
searchers, remain open to their guidance and speaking, their disclosure, when we attend
to them.
Empirical existential-phenomenologists therefore reject the praxis of using coding
manuals, which allow a categorization and subsequent quantification of the data, the de-
velopment of a measure that can then be applied, in the typical traditional psychological re-
search campaign of correlational proliferation, to all other established psychological
measuring tools.
Content analysis in the existential-phenomenological approach becomes a proce-
dure of qualitative analysis, of "hermeneutics," that is, the study of implicit meanings
that are to be explicated by verbal means and illuminated from within by virtue of their
inherent experienced "psycho-logic" (meaning). Existential-phenomenologists shy away
from the obvious impositions of explicit theoretical schemes in order to "interpret" the
data because this procedure often covers up more than it reveals and, in its most extreme
development, leads to the shortcoming of being a self-fulfilling prophecy, incapable of
discovering anything new and not already contained within its conceptual definitional
framework.
Traditionalists might object and say that they all go through an "inductive phase" of
data study beginning with description or pilot data in order to construct their coding man-
ual. In this sense, they can indeed be said to all go through the inaugural existential-
phenomenological step: to let human experience speak! But that very initial inductive step,
at the origin of all research, is all that traditional and existential-phenomenological re-
searchers have in common. Very early, then, in the research work, in the study process, there
is a decisive parting of the ways toward numbers and quantification on the part of tradi-
tionalists, who conceive of psychology in the model of a "natural science," and toward
meanings on the part of existential-phenomenological researchers, who understand psy-
chology to be a "human science."
We might add that psychological measures, scores, are also human meanings. They are
fixed meanings, tied to operational definitions and specific acts using measuring instru-
ments-test performance. In that context and as predictive and correlational possibilities,
measurements have value. But determining the meaning of the psychological dimensions
studied and how this meaning is lived in actual personal experience is a task that precedes
any form of measurement, to which traditional psychology does not address itself and
which has become the focus and subject matter of existential-phenomenology.
In this sense, van Kaam's study sheds light on the general experienced meaning of the
lived process of "being really understood" as perceived moments in a person-to-person re-
lationship. As van Kaam himself suggests, upon this clarified basis, one could develop all
kinds of measurements.

On the Phenomena of Learning: Paul Colaizzi

Working under the direction of and in collaboration with Giorgi, Paul Colaizzi pro-
duced a master's thesis (1966) and Ph.D. dissertation (1968) devoted to an empirical phe-
nomenological investigation oflearning as experienced from the perspective of the learner.
30 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

Integrating this work in terms of a number of distinctions he made regarding the method-
ological and epistemological issues involved in doing existential-phenomenological re-
search, Colaizzi (1973) published an interesting book entitled Reflection and Research in
Psychology: A Phenomenological Study of Learning. Before its publication, many of the
concrete issues involved in doing empirical existential-phenomenological research were
only implicitly recognized and often overlooked. For instance, in reviewing van Kaam's
(1958) work, Colaizzi (1973) observed that, properly speaking, it was indeed empirical and
even phenomenal, but not yet fully phenomenological, because it did not penetrate into the
implicit horizons of the descriptions gathered and stopped short of developing a complete
structural explication of its phenomenon.
In Colaizzi's terms, what van Kaam's studies produced were fundamental descriptions
(FDs), rather thanfundamental structures (FSs). Each is a kind of research finding belong-
ing to its own epistemological level, such that investigations at the phenomenal level yield
FDs, whereas those at the phenomenological level yield an FS. This distinction of "levels of
subject matter" is an important but difficult one. The phenomenal level is that at which sub-
jects live through and describe their experience; it involves what happens explicitly for
them. Keeping in accordance with Husserl's dictum "back to the things themselves," a re-
flection on the implicit and structural dimensions of subjects' descriptions shifts the re-
searcher from the phenomenal level (that of the experience of the phenomenon) to the
phenomenological level, where the focus is on the phenomenon that was experienced, the
"what" that is being researched. In his book, Colaizzi (1973, p. 32) further sharpens this
distinction:
The structure of an experiential phenomenon need not coincide with a description of that same
phenomenon as it is experienced by a subject, because the former is largely implicit and the latter
is of a more explicit nature. After all, just as the description of a particular essence is not identical
to the essence of a particular description, the FS and the FD of a single experiential phenomenon
are not identical.

When a researcher focuses on the phenomenon as it was experienced and culls out the
essence of that description, he has a fundamental description (FD); in order to arrive at a
fundamental structure (FS), he or she must interrogate the implicit dimensions of his or her
data, focusing on the essential elements that constitute the phenomenon through their inter-
nal relations with one another.
According to Colaizzi, the fundamental structure of a phenomenon may be accessed
via two different types of reflections: (1) individual phenomenological reflection (IPR), in
which the researcher uses only his or her personal experiences as "data," amplified through
"free imaginative variations," and (2) empirical phenomenological reflection (EPR), in
which the researcher performs his or her systematic reflections upon a body of descriptive
protocols that have been collected from subjects. As will be recalled, the phenomenological
philosophers (who did not "trouble" themselves with the descriptions of subjects) preferred
individual reflection, believing this would be sufficient to uncover the essence of phenom-
ena. Whereas the more empirically minded phenomenological psychologists had been skep-
tical of the completeness of such an approach and thus eliminated self-reflection, Colaizzi
reintroduced it into empirical research, considering it a necessary first step that would re-
veal the researcher's own precomprehension of the phenomenon. This would be of help to
other researchers who might wish to follow up on one's work, as well as provide a starting
point for the reflections upon subjects' protocols.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 31

In his book on learning, Colaizzi organized all his various distinctions and arrived at
an order in which he felt empirical phenomenological research logically ought to proceed,
namely:
1. Discovering an FS by IPR.
2. Obtaining an FD by the method of phenomenal study (PS).
3. Obtaining an FD via EPR.
4. Discovering an FS via EPR.
The following is a summary version of how Colaizzi applied these steps in his work on
learning. Since the details of his findings in many instances are too extensive to repro-
duce, the interested reader is referred to Colaizzi (1973). What is included below is for
illustrative purposes only and is not meant to do justice to the phenomenon of learning
itself.
1. Discovering an FS of learning by IPR. Colaizzi began his research by setting him-
self a learning task-to learn the content of Spengler's book The Decline of the West. Re-
flecting on his experience of this task (which is the method ofIPR), and performing the
appropriate imaginary variations, Colaizzi (1973, p. 59) was able to articulate the following
FS as a preface to his empirical investigations: "Learning is ... that activity whereby the
learner extracts from material his learned content, which is a meaning-idea of which he had
no previous knowledge and which he posits as true."
2. Obtaining an FD of learning by PS. In this phase, Colaizzi set about to collect de-
scriptive data on learning from subjects who had been given an actual learning task. Work-
ing in a laboratory setting, Colaizzi used tasks that were both traditional to learning
experiments (e.g., memorizing nonsense syllables, solving problems) and nontraditional
(e.g., disassembling and reassembling a gun, learning to walk on crutches). The data gath-
ering was organized such that each of 50 subjects would fill out a questionnaire after hav-
ing satisfactorily completed one task. Criteria (such as memorizing all ten nonsense
syllables or correctly assembling the gun within two minutes) were employed for each task.
Since there were ten tasks in all, Colaizzi distributed his subjects so as to receive five de-
scriptions for each task.
The questionnaires employed consisted of various open-ended items inquiring about
the "changes that occurred" during the course of doing the activity. In order not to prejudice
the subjects' responses, the word "learning" was never mentioned. Instead, the questions
centered around requests for detailed descriptions of any changes that did occur, asking the
subject to distinguish between changes that occurred in himself or herself and those that oc-
curred in the activity, wherever this distinction was possible. Moreover, to account for the
constituting role played by the experimental situation (i.e., "demand characteristics"), sub-
jects were also asked to describe fully what they believed the purpose of the investigation
and the questionnaire itself to be.
With his data gathered, Colaizzi began the reflective work of interrogating the sub-
jects' descriptions, with the aim of deriving an FD. The general process by which Colaizzi
accomplished this was organized in terms of the following explication-guiding steps:
1. Each statement and expression contained in the original protocols was considered
with respect to its significance for the fundamental description of the phenomenon in ques-
tion (i.e., learning). Those that were relevant were retained; those that were clearly irrele-
vant were discarded.
32 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

2. All relevant statements were then classified into naturally forming categories, and
all repetitive statements were eliminated.
3. The remaining relevant statements were then translated from the raw form in which
they were presented in the original protocols to clear and succinct expressions or compo-
nents.
4. Finally, the components were arranged into a series of statements that were ac-
cepted as the FD of the phenomenon oflearning obtained by the method ofPS.
The FD yielded in this segment of Colaizzi's research is given on page 71 of his 1973
book. Excerpting from that articulation (Colaizzi, 1973, p. 71), we find that learning
involves

... an increase of intellectual knowledge, or of bodily or intellectual skill in a task activity, or

the discovery of an efficient though possibly slow method for executing the task activity, which is
manifested in ... cognitive changes and/or performance changes, these changes being affected by
the methods employed which methods themselves change, and are accompanied by affective com-
ponents that are interrelated with the cognitive and performance changes, by personal components,
by bodily components, by temporal components, and by situation components, and there is an
awareness of all the changes and of all their accompanying components.

Colaizzi then went on to elaborate these changes, detailing cognitive, performance, af-
fective, personal, bodily, temporal, and situational components, as well as the awareness the
subjects experienced of all the changes taken as a whole.
3. Obtaining an FD oflearning by EPR. It soon became apparent to Colaizzi that dif-
ferent emphases could be given to the FD of a phenomenon, or, put differently, he realized
that a phenomenon never has just one FD that captures it completely. For him, FDs could
always be brought toward either of two ideal limits, one aiming at an extensiveness of de-
tail, the other at an intensiveness of substance. Applying the method ofEPR to the ques-
tionnaire data gathered from the learning tasks described above, Colaizzi (1973, pp. 75-77)
sought to generate these two different types ofFDs via the following phases:

I. The first step was simply the realization that the search for an extensive FD involved sacri-
ficing substance for the sake of including as much detail as possible from the relevant source state-
ments, whereas opting for a substantial FD necessitated sacrificing detail in order to achieve as
substantially intensive a description as possible. Colaizzi's recognition was of the importance of
"both poles of the continuum" and of the need to present not one but two FOs oflearning.
2. Having made this procedural decision, Colaizzi next reflectively interpreted each relevant
statement from the questionnaires to determine the meaning that it expressed and then listed each
unique, that is, nonrepetitive meaning-expression.
3. Next, each meaning-expression was interrogated with respect to its significance for every
other meaning-expression, thus producing interrelated clusters of meaning-expressions.
4. Next, the recognition that the clusters of meaning-expressions exhibited an interdepen-
dency demanded that they be synthesized into a single theme, constituted equally by each of them,
which was thus accepted as the extensive FD of learning obtained by the method of EPR.
5. Abstracting all specifics from the interrelated clusters of meaning-expressions obtained in
phase 3 above resulted in the substantial FD of learning obtained by the method of EPR.

The interested reader may locate Colaizzi's FDs of learning in his book (Colaizzi, 1973,
pp. 81-82). The extensive FD seems to focus most upon the general progression from inept
to efficient participation in the learning activity (i.e., the task begins as awkward, error-rid-
den, and forced, and progresses to automatic, easy, and errorless, whereas the subject's body
loses its initial focus as an uncomfortable, aching burden, and eventually blends effortlessly
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 33

into the performance), whereas the substantial FD uses a more psychological terminology to
discuss participation in a learning activity as no longer an isolated event, but instead as "the
nexus of a temporally extended situation that is constituted by emotional, mental and physi-
cal relations to previous and subsequent activities."
4. Discovering the FS oflearning by EPR. This last step in the procedure of examin-
ing the phenomenon of learning entailed reflecting upon the FD of learning obtained by
the preceding operation in order to reflectively explicate its implicit structure. This struc-
ture, as afundamental structure (FS), was obtained by the method ofEPR, focusing on the
data provided by the extensive FD because of the richness and amount of empirical data it
contained.
Regarding the explication-guiding question for the FS via EPR (Colaizzi, 1973):
This involved a dialogue constituted on the one hand by each of the themes, and on the other, the
reflective interpretation of them in terms of what they express as fundamental for learning (p. 83).
Execution and results ofthe method ofEmpirical Phenomenological Reflection directed to the
discovery of the Fundamental Structure of learning. In general, the themes extracted from the
extensive FD are related to one another as follows. That to which learning participation is directed
is first the total situation and then the content of the learning situation. Inasmuch as this content,
initially unknown, becomes known and this participation is manifested in improved performance,
the methods employed by the learner to execute this participation are determined by whatever mo-
tivational factors are present, and these motives in turn are determined by the learner's acceptance
of and attitudes towards the content as it is integrated in what is viewed by the learner as the total
learning situation, inclusive of its temporal references and emotional qualities.
However, even if it is acknowledged that the above themes as they are related to one another
are indispensable conditions for participation in a learning activity, it must be realized that they are
indispensable only because and to the extent that they directly refer to learning participation which
itself is prereflective. For example, the progression of performance from aching and awkward, etc.,
is not itself learning, but is the manifestation of engaged participation in learning activity. Thus
the manifestation by performance of this participation does not in itself define learning since learn-
ing is constituted by participation as well as by performance. Moreover, since this participation is
disrupted by the learner's awareness of it, and yet since it does nevertheless proceed, then learning
participation occurs at a prereflective level. Likewise, with regard to his presence to the content of
the learning situation, the learner's movement from involvement in the total learning situation ex-
presses that the involvement is but a necessary prerequisite for the learning participation proper.
Accordingly, although learning participation is impossible without these conditions, they are
not intrinsic aspects of the participation itself: they are the necessary conditions for participation
but are not themselves participation. In order, then, to capture that which sufficiently distinguishes
and identifies learning, these conditions must be set aside in order to focus on actual participation
in learning.
Regarding this participation, it is essentially the learner's relation to the content of the learn-
ing situation. The relation of the learner to the content defines the very existence of the learning
participation. That is, learning participation is directed to the content, specifically, the content as it
is constantly given to the learner in new perspectives, these perspectives being co-constituted by the
learner as opposed to being restricted to the physical characteristics of the content and of the learn-
ing situation. This co-constitution is determined by what the content means to the learner, whether
it is personally, functionally, or emotionally relevant or insignificant. Furthermore, since the per-
spectives thusly determined in turn determine the motivation of and methods employed by
the learner to co-constitute further perspectives of the content,learning participation thus expresses
the circular process between the development of perspectives of the content and the learner's co-
constituting of these perspectives.
If, then, organization of the content is defined as ''the learner's co-constituting of new per-
spectives of the content, regardless of whether the nature of the content is physical, cognitive, or
bodily, by a process of disclosing its references to and contexts within which it can be harmo-
niously integrated," then the FS oflearning discovered by the method ofEPR may be formulated as
follows: the prereflective organizing of a to-be-learned content whereby that content is appre-
hended by the learner from a new perspective (pp. 84-85).
 34 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

Colaizzi presents the variety of research options and operations in terms of a schematic rep-
resentation. Each operation is valid in its own right and yields a particular set of results so
that the fruit of the labor is a pluralistic characterization of essential dimensions and facets
of the phenomena that are interdependent and mutually enriching. All of the results together
shed light on the meaning of the phenomenon of learning as experienced by the subject
from the actor point of view.
Schematic presentation ofoperations. At this point, the function of the four operations may be
rendered more clearly by depicting them schematically; thus a schematization of the relationships
among (a) the various methods; (b) their corresponding procedures; (c) types of subject matter with
a typical finding concerning the nature of the learned-content that were established in this investi-
gation is provided in Table 2 (p. 85).

In this complex study of the issues, levels, and strategies of existential-phenomeno-

logical research procedures regarding the phenomena of learning, Colaizzi clarifies two im-
portant issues: the plurality-individual difference and the empirical-reflective difference.
We can approach the study of any experience by drawing on our individual stock of knowl-
edge and personal experience, which includes all that we know including our socially
mediated theoretical knowledge and our power of imagining human possibilities on the ba-
sis of this knowledge. We can also utilize other people's reports and descriptions or answers
to a questionnaire to gather experiential protocols or data from a plurality of subjects to be
reflectively analyzed. In some sense, we are always dealing with a combination of these two
in that personal experience is always social and also in that event the study and interpreta-
tion of others' experience occurs within the at least implicit context of the researcher's own
precomprehension and understanding. Similarly, although the empirical-reflective differ-

Table 2. Methods, Procedures, and Types of Subject Matter Involved in Research in

Phenomenological Psychology"

Method Procedure Subject matter

IPR Individual reflection without Perspectival FS; learned-content

empirical data as, e.g., an affirmed meaning-
idea
PS Analysis of empirical data without Organization of empirical data, but
recourse to reflection no definitive results; learned
content as, e.g., network of facts
EPR Reflection on organized, explicitly Multiple FDs; e.g., personal
empirical data involvement in learned content
EPR Reflection on implicit dimensions Perspectival FS; learned content
of organized empirical data as, e.g., co-constantly emerging
prereflective meanings
Combined IPR and EPR Individual reflection without Comprehensive FS; leamed-
empirical data and reflection content as, e.g., an affirmed
on implicit dimensions of meaning-idea and co-
organized empirical data constituted, constantly emerging
preflective meanings
"From Colaizzi (1973, pp. 85-86).
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 35

ence can be established as an ideal postulate, it can never be sustained in a completely suc-
cessful manner because empirical-factual reporting already implies some reflective-
organizing, and even the most universal and abstract of formulations appears within hori-
zons of concrete-factual-empirical references in the mutually interpenetrating dialectic of
living and thinking.
It is instructive to keep these conceptual distinctions in mind when formulating a phe-
nomenologically based qualitative research strategy. What is the source of our data? Is it
one's own experience or the reports of a plurality of subjects? What is the level of analysis?
Are we talking about empirical summary descriptions or the results of content analysis (the
phenomenal level of fundamental descriptions) of the phenomenological level of structural
analysis, which articulates the minimally necessary constituents and defining characteris-
tics of a phenomenon: the fundamental structure, as articulated by the reflective work of the
phenomenological researcher.
In the provocative comparative discussion of the results in the last part of his book, Co-
laizzi presents a detailed and sophisticated argument both for the distinctiveness of each of
the operational steps of the method and for the interdependency and complementarity of the
results. The difference between the findings regarding thefundamental description (FD) and
the fundamental structure (FS) is seen to arise from a difference in focus on two layers of ex-
istence: rejlective and prerejlective life. Whereas the FD is a description of the subject mat-
ter in its reflective dimension, which is thematically present to the subject's experience and
can thus be directly reported upon request, as an appearance, the FS represents a structural
elucidation of the prereflective dimensions, which cannot be directly accessed by the sub-
jects but can be revealed to the investigator and elucidated by him or her by reflective expli-
cation through an act of interpretive reading.
Colaizzi's statements regarding the issue of the relationship between reflective and
prereflective dimensions of human experience raise some important methodological issues.
Can one never be present and privy to the prereflective dimensions of one's experience? Is
it necessary to articulate the prereflective dimensions after the fact, in the manner of the
theory of the retrospective constitution of meaning (Schutz, 1962)? Does the prereflective
have to be articulated in phenomenological-conceptual terms as fundamental structures?
Can there be an experiential alternative to reflective phenomenological work in the direc-
tion of an "increasing effort of attention" or of an "intensification of consciousness"? Even
if a new structural meaning dimension is discovered reflectively, and retrospectively, does
not this insight become a permanent prospective horizon of meaning that irrevocably
enriches the experience of the subject's thematic field (Gurwitsch, 1964)? Note the dif-
ferences between the fundamental structure (FS) via the method of individual phenomeno-
logical reflection (IPR) articulated as " ... that activity whereby the learner extracts from
material his learned content, which is a meaning-idea of which he had no previous knowl-
edge and which he posits as true" (Colaizzi, 1973, p. 100) and the fundamental structure
(FS) via the method of empirical phenomenological reflection (EPR) articulated as " ... the
pre-reflective organization ofa to-be-learned-content [which] is apprehended by the learner
from a new perspective which discloses different aspects of the total phenomenon of expe-
rienced learning" (p. 100).
We will see in the following sections how the issues formulated by Colaizzi were se-
lectively emphasized and elaborated by others who subscribed to a basically empirical-
 36 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

reflective strategy. They all collect "data" and they all "analyze" the data reflectively, al-
though there is much variation with regard to the particular steps taken in the actual re-
search procedures. In this development, some of the rigorous distinctions worked out by
Colaizzi between FD and FS and between IPR and EPR, between a phenomenal and a
phenomenological study, were given up or transformed. Giorgi (1975a), for instance,
worked out a series of steps of analysis that progress from "raw data," that is, descriptions
of experiences, to an articulation of constitutive meaning units characteristic of a particu-
lar protocol description, to a formulation of the situated structure of the phenomenon, that
is, the reflective articulation of the meaning-configuration for each subject, and, finally,
the general structure, that is, the reflective-universal characterization of the phenomenon
across all subjects. In Colaizzi's terminology, this involves working out the FS by means
of the method of EPR and utilizing the distinction between individual experience ex-
pressed by the situated structure and that of the "plurality of subjects" expressed by the
general structure.
Compared to Colaizzi's,Giorgi's research progression aims at a more clear-cut focus of
results in that all the operations are designed to ultimately cull out the essential, general
structure, that is, a characterization of what "it" (e.g., learning) essentially is, an aim that
Colaizzi (1973, pp. 98-99) considers unattainable when he says:
According to Heidegger, when man discovers any phenomenon he simultaneously co-
discovers the world. What is meant by this is that there is nothing that is wholly isolated unto it-
self, but rather it is always related to an infinite horizon or an unlimited system of references.
Each insight into something is accompanied by new areas of opacity concerning it. Expressed
otherwise, man's knowledge is essentially finite. Yet the fact that man cannot possess infinite
knowledge of something, or that he cannot even possess all of his potential knowledge of some-
thing immediately does not imply that his knowledge is "absolutely relative." It means only that
what he knows is always and necessarily contingent, constantly in tension, awaiting further though
never completed fulfillment. Accordingly, he must accept the idea of "absolutely absolute" knowl-
edge as a chimera and satisfy himself with "relatively absolute" knowledge. In terms of a criterion
for having articulated fully the fundamental structure of a phenomenon, this means that the fun-
damental structure is an absurdity. All that an investigator can hope to accomplish is to articulate
how a phenomenon fundamentally is revealed to him from his finite perspective and submit this
articulation to other concerned investigators who then reject it, modify it, complement it or tem-
porarily accept it, and so on. Thus the endeavors of an individual investigator stimulate a dialogue
between his results, a community of scholars and reality. There is no higher court of appeals for
establishing a criterion for a fundamental structure than this dialogue. The reason for this is that a
fundamental structure is an expression of an aspect of man as a transcendent being; and as a trans-
cendent aspect, that which is expressed by the fundamental structure can never be fully captured
by the laws which define, i.e., which definitely establish criteria for a natural event. In the mean-
time, during the unending dialectical development and evaluation of the fundamental structure, it
can be measured against the criterion of its fruitfulness. For example, does it accurately and in-
telligibly reveal the phenomenon under investigation from within the perspective of the current
comprehension of it? Does it eliminate confusions generated by the prevalent established system
of knowledge concerning it?

In this way of speaking Colaizzi expresses and anticipates the attitude of a hermeneutical-
phenomenological and of a dialogal approach-to be discussed later in this chapter-that
is forever cognizant of the relativity of its own perspective and of its role as a contributing
voice to an ongoing and ever-changing dialogue. The fundamental structure of the meaning
of a phenomenon is the expression of a moment in the researcher's vision and understand-
ing based on tacitly accepted presuppositions and situational circumstances. It is part of the
hermeneutical work to critically examine, acknowledge, and discuss these operative as-
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 37

sumptions. Colaizzi's work gives us a sophisticated and differentiated vocabulary and con-
ceptual distinctions that can help us in derIDing these terms, tasks, and difficulties of a qual-
itative hwnan science research approach.
In his later work on phenomenological research and the phenomenology of read-
ing and existentially significant learning, Colaizzi (1978) moves into a dialogal-exis-
tential position. The emphasis is placed on the dialogue between the co-researchers in
which the relevant contexts of operative presuppositions and the disclosure of existen-
tial contexts are explicated, revealing how they shape the person's understanding For
Colaizzi, phenomenological hwnan research becomes existential therapy (Colaizzi,
1978, pp. 69-70):
Genuinely human research, into any phenomenon whatsoever. by seriously including the trust-
ing dialogal approach, passes beyond research in its limited sense and occasions existential insight.
This is nothing other than therapy. All human research, particularly psychological research, is a
mode of existential therapy.
Viewed as a mode of existential therapy, it can be understood why the phenomenologist has
for so long maintained that human research into any particular phenomenon should shed light on
the totality of the human situation, since it is clear that existential therapy should draw in the total-
ity of the human person, e.g., his perceptions and cognitions, emotions and attitudes, history and
predispositions, aspirations and experiences, and patterns, styles, and contents of behavior.

Colaizzi (1978, p. 70) argues that all research, including natural science research, should be
hwnan research:
All research should be initiated by, engaged in with, and directed toward the clearing of exis-
tential significance.

The co-researchers, by uncovering their presuppositions, have to discover and articulate the
hwnanly significant context in which they conduct their investigation. "They must be able
to make explicit the existential significance of their research" and take full responsibility
for its self- and world-transformative consequences.

On the Learning Experience: Amedeo Giorgi

Giorgi (1975a) has developed another form of empirical existential-phenomenologi-
cal research that has been very influential at Duquesne. Giorgi cautions us, however, that
there are many ways in which one can develop an empirical existential-phenomenological
psychology. Giorgi (1975a, p. 83) states:
In light of our introductory comments, it should not have to be emphasized that the method we
are using as a demonstration is neither exclusive nor exhaustive and it should not be considered par-
adigmatic for all phenomenologically based research. It should be taken for what it is, one example
of the application of phenomenology to psychology with some limited but valid generalizations of
the value of phenomenology for methodological issues.

Being a theoretical and experimental psychologist with a traditional experimental psy-

chology background, Giorgi has focused primarily on the topics of experimental psy-
chology, perception and learning, and attempts to reformulate these problems from an
existential-phenomenological perspective leading to the articulation of "psychology as a
hwnan science" (Giorgi, 1970) and to develop an alternative human scientific and qualita-
tive approach to psychological research. Giorgi has done much pathfinding and program-
matic work to bring this about.
 38 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

In a series of theoretical and critical papers on the relationship of phenomenology and

experimental psychology, Giorgi (1965, 1966, 1967) pointed out the need for a new quali-
tative, human scientific research methodology in psychology. In close but critical dialogue
with the tradition, Giorgi argued that a rigorous phenomenological science of human expe-
rienced meanings is possible, but that it has to develop its own methodology, which involves
the creation and collection of "unprejudiced verbal descriptions" as data, and the explica-
tion of meanings from the protocol in order to arrive at the formulation of the essence of the
phenomenon under study. Giorgi explicitly accepts and affirms the goals of philosophical
phenomenology to be an eidetic science of essences as valid for psychology also, and he
proposes to apply this approach and method to the content area of psychological phenom-
ena. Giorgi's own effort centered on the phenomenon oflearning. Giorgi (1967) published
an early example of the phenomenological approach to the problem of meaning and serial
learning in which he demonstrated ''the usefulness of applying a phenomenological inter-
pretation to an empirical study" (p. 98), adding a qualitative dimension---experiential re-
ports and their analysis-to the traditional focus on behavioral acts. Thus, in this early
paper, Giorgi argued for the complementarity and mutual enrichment of the two ap-
proaches, using traditional methods and content areas, but complemented them with
experiential data and the perspective and meaning of the subject, that is, he added a ''phe-
nomenological corrective." Comparing the two approaches, Giorgi summarized the two
realms of the natural and human sciences (Table 3).
The "new vision for research in the human sciences" is based on a dialectic of the ap-
proach, that is, the fundamental viewpoint toward the person and the world that the scien-
tist brings with him or her and that provides the foundation-the method and the content
of the phenomenon that is being studied. Giorgi (1970) argued that the method is always de-
veloped in dialogue with the content of the phenomenon under study.
As compared to van Kaam and Colaizzi, with whom he has dialogued, Giorgi, by
1975, as compared with his earlier work on learning (Giorgi, 1967), has moved the focus
of the content area of existential-phenomenological research psychology into life-worldly
situations. The phenomenon is studied in the world and as part of the unfolding existence
of the individual, and the research is moved away from the contrivances of the experimen-
tal psychology laboratory design, which is an abstraction and an artificial construction of

Table 3. Factors Important for Research in the Natural Sciences and Suggested Correctives for a
Parallel Paradigm for Research in the Human Sciences
Realm of natural sciences Realm of human sciences

Experimentation Experimentation and other forms of research activity

Quantity Quality
Measurement Meaning
Analysis Explication
Determined reactions Intentional responses
Identical repetition Essential phenomenon known only through manifestations
Independent observer Participant observer
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 39

real-world experience. We can study the phenomena when and where they occur in the per-
son's experience, and we can access this experience legitimately and scientifically in and
through a retrospective, narrative account, an experiential protocol, a story, that constitutes
our data.
We can say that empirical existential-phenomenological psychologists study life in
and through texts, as "life-texts." What are we to do with these texts-how do we read
them, study, analyze, and amplify them, and disclose other, latent meanings within
them? These hermeneutical questions and issues come into play when one does this kind
of empirical phenomenological psychology. How does one get results from stories? It is
the contribution of the work of the Duquesne group to have developed and published de-
tailed and documented step-by-step procedures for doing explication of meaning-
essences called structures from reports, thus "operationalizing" hermeneutic activity,
the aim of which is to enrich and deepen the meaning that is given by disciplined dia-
logue with the text. Whereas hermeneutic studies usually address artistic and cultural
products, we have ventured to create the life-texts to be studied in the framework ofpsy-
chological research.
In two publications, "An Application of Phenomenological Method in Psychology"
(Giorgi, I 975a) and "Convergence and Divergence of Qualitative Methods in Psychology"
(Giorgi, 1975b), Giorgi reports on his empirical methodology. In the second paper, he out-
lines his data-study and explication procedure (Giorgi, 1975b, pp. 74-75):
The procedure for qualitative analysis is as follows:
I) The researcher reads the entire description straight through to get a sense of the whole.
A phenomenological interpretation of this process would be that the researcher is present to the
situation being described by the subject by means of imaginative variation, or by means of the
meanings he apprehends through written language, and not that he is merely present to words
on a page.
2) The researcher reads the same description more slowly and delineates each time that a
transition in meaning is perceived with respect to the intention of discovering the meaning oflearn-
ing (the research example discussed). After this procedure one obtains a series of meaning units or
constituents. A constituent is not an element; the former means differentiating a part in such a way
that one is mindful of the whole, whereas the latter implies a contextless discrimination.
3) The researcher then eliminates redundancies, but otherwise keeps all units. He then clari-
fies or elaborates the meaning of the constituents by relating them to each other and to the sense
of the whole. This process also clarifies why the specific meaning units constituted in Step 2 were
perceived.
4) The researcher reflects on the given constituents, still expressed essentially in the concrete
language of the subject, and transforms the meaning of each unit from the everyday naive language
of the subject into the language of psychological science insofar as it is revelatory of the phenom-
enon of learning. In other words, each unit is systematically interrogated for what it reveals about
the learning process in that situation for that subject. It is at this point that the presence of the re-
searcher is most evidently present, but he is needed to interpret psychological relevancy.
5) The researcher then synthesizes and integrates the insights achieved into a consistent de-
scription of the structure oflearning. The structure is then communicated to other researchers for
purposes of confirmation or criticism.

Giorgi's description parallels closely the steps of explication as outlined by van Kaam,
except that Giorgi no longer considers it fruitful to attempt any form of quantification in
terms of frequencies of statements, nor does he think it necessary to collect data descrip-
tions from a large number of subjects. As a matter of fact, the actual description of the qual-
itative research method provided (Giorgi, 1975b) tells us how to read and work with the
individual protocol in its biographical integrity, in its situatedness. Unlike van Kaam, who
40 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

pools his data after he has identified the "experience moments," Giorgi keeps the "meaning
units" he has identified in each description together for each subject and then explicates
them in terms of a "situated structure" (see below).
It is therefore not surprising that Giorgi (1975b) presents a single case study oflearn-
ing in his paper "An Application of Phenomenological Method in Psychology." He differ-
entiates several levels of reflective analysis (p. 75):

The end result of the application of this procedure is one of a number of descriptive state-
ments that capture the naive description in a more clarified and more psychologically relevant
way. The descriptive statements can differ in terms of level, e.g., a Situated Structure of learn-
ing, which presents the situation as learned by the subject in concrete terms, or a General Struc-
ture, which describes the learned situation irrespective of concrete situations in which the
learning took place. Each level of description has both strengths and weaknesses. The descrip-
tive statements may also differ with respect to type. That is, most concrete descriptions fall
between the universal and the individual and cluster at a level of generality that can be dif-
ferentiated with respect to type, e.g. bodily language vs. cognitive learning, and each type
would necessitate a different descriptive statement. In sum, each descriptive statement, ideally,
should both comprehend a large set of facts as well as deepen the understanding of the phe-
nomenon under investigation.

Thus, we obtain results on two structural levels ojmeaning and generality, as situated struc-
ture and as general structure, both answering "What is it?" questions, and several types of
structures answering "How did it take place?" questions.

1. Problem and Question Formulation: The Phenomenon. The research example

presented comes from a research project on learning (Giorgi, 1975a, p. 84):
The basic idea is to try to discover exactly what constitutes learning for ordinary people going
about their everyday activities and how the learning is accomplished.
The eliciting question to obtain experiential data was:
Could you describe in as much detail as possible a situation in which learning occurred
for you?

2. Data-Generating Situation: Descriptions. In the actual research presented by

Giorgi, the narrative description in response to the cited question was not elicited in writing
(as a written description), but through an interview procedure with a lead-off question, that
is, by means of questioning dialogue. This dialogue of the researcher with the subject was
tape-recorded and then transcribed. This transcription constitutes the "data."

3. and 4. Data Study Procedure (Explication) and Presentation of Results (For-

mulation). Giorgi (1975a, p. 87) writes:
First one reads through the protocol to get the sense of the whole. The first step of the
analysis itself is to try to determine the natural "meaning units" as expressed by the subject. The
attitude with which this is done is one of maximum openness and the specific aim of the study
is not yet taken into account. After the natural units have been delineated, one tries to state as
simply as possible the theme that dominates the natural unit within the same attitude that de-
fined the units.

The issue of natural "meaning units" deserves some reflection and discussion. It is not
clearly specified by Giorgi, but it involves the articulation of the theme-a verbal statement
formulated by the researcher that states the essence of meaning of the unit.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 41

Cloonan (1979, p. 117), in his thesis work on decision making under Giorgi, discussed
this concept under the title "Intentional Units":
By "intentional unit" is meant a statement made by the S which is self-definable and self-de-
limiting in the expression of a single, recognized aspect of S experience. For example, a S might re-
ply to the question of how he arrived at choice of preferred task (e.g. math), "Since 1 have always
enjoyed working at numbers, I derive pleasure from math logic problems, reasoning problems that
involve numbers, and math brain teasers." The intentional unit here is: "S has always enjoyed math
problems." This statement contains the essence of the statements thus far; it is not a reduction of S 's
experience. Were S to have added, "I also find math challenging," this would constitute a second in-
tentional unit. An "intentional unit," therefore, is a statement of subject's experience in which there
are collapsed redundancies of an aspect ofS's reported experience. Every aspect of the experience
is an "intentional unit."

Cloonan refers to class lecture notes (taken in 1966) to establish a reference. Over the
years, however, natural meaning units, Giorgi's (1975a) coinage, has become the preferred
and unquestioned term used. It remains a problematical issue: What do you consider to be
an aspect of an experience? Is it a unit of the behavioral act-intention? Is it a psychological
act? What kind of event is a "meaning unit"? The methodological step involved represents
a transformation of the narrative first person experiential report into a declarative third per-
son summary statement in the researcher's language formulation, which becomes the basis
for further reflections aiming at higher levels of universalization and more abstract mean-
ing-comprehension.
Giorgi (1975a, pp. 87-88) continues with the delineation of the steps of the analysis
and explication procedure:
The next step is to understand the specific purpose of the study. If a study has a number
of questions, these questions should be put to the data consecutively and should not be confused.
To demonstrate this, let us first ask the question "What is learning?" and then follow up with
"How was learning accomplished?" Therefore, the second step of the analysis is to look at the
themes and the raw data from which they were taken with the specific attitude that asks "What does
this statement tell me about learning?" or "How does this statement reveal significance about the
nature oflearning?" If there is nothing explicit about learning within a given natural meaning unit,
which is possible, then one simply leaves a blank. For some purposes it is important to know the
meaning of the statement anyway or what function it serves in the total narrative, but this step is not
followed here. The results of these interrogations are the Expressions of Central Themes in Terms
Revelatory of the Structure (What) and of the Style (How) of Learning.
Once the themes have been thusly enumerated, an attempt is made to tie together into a de-
scriptive statement the essential, nonredundant themes. This can be done a number of ways, but it
seems that at least two ways are valuable for general communication. One is a description of what
we can call the situated level which means one that includes the concreteness and specifics of the
actual research situation employed. The second one is a description at the general level. The gen-
eral statement leaves out the particulars of the specific situation and centers on those aspects of
learning that have emerged which, while not necessarily universal, are at least transsituational or
more than specific. "Structure" is the term used to describe the answer to the "what is learning?"
question and "Style" is used to describe the "how did learning take placeT' answer.

For Giorgi, the systematic elaboration and answering of these two reflective ques-
tions-"What is the essential structure of?" (Structure) and "How did this experience take
place?" (Style)-constitutes the work of explication by means of which we arrive at the "fi-
nal identification" (van Kaam) or the "synthesis and integration into a consistent descrip-
tion of the structure of learning."
Comparing Giorgi's approach to van Kaam's, we can note the following: Giorgi does
not use any quantification of his data or any interjudge reliability checks. Like van Kaam,
42 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

he engages in a series of steps of explication from data to themes or "meaning units" ("ex-
perience moments" in van Kaam's language) to structures. These steps constitute linguistic
transformations of the materials from the subject's own words into professional psycholog-
ical and explicitly phenomenological language. The description and rationale for this reads
(Giorgi, 1975a, p. 95):
I tried to read the description provided by the S without prejudice and tried to thematize the
protocol from her viewpoint as understood by me. The interrogation that provided the above tables
proceeded within the same phenomenological perspective. For me, again, this means that there
were certain kinds of meaning that I allowed to emerge, and that I expressed these in the nascent
language of phenomenological psychology (e.g., structure, style, meanings, situation, etc.), with all
of the nuances implied by that particular context. Thus, these factors do not vitiate the findings but
rather set the limits of the context in which they are valid.

While van Kaam proceeded immediately from many descriptions to one general char-
acterization to which all the original descriptions contributed, Giorgi introduces several in-
termediary steps in order to distinguish the levels of situated structure, which respects the
integrity of each individual, and general structure, which characterizes the implicit univer-
sal structure of meaning true of all the individual descriptions. While this differentiation is
plausibly demonstrated by Giorgi using a single case that is an account of a personal situ-
ated experience, it remains unclarified and undemonstrated how this two-level analysis is to
be done beginning with several descriptions, a procedure often recommended and insisted
upon in order to achieve representativeness and redundancy and to provide the opportunity
to differentiate subtypes or varieties of types and styles of experiences reported by different
contributors.
Comparing Giorgi's way of studying human phenomena with Colaizzi's, we find that
there are several differences: Giorgi is concerned with fundamental structures (PSs) arrived
at by means of empirical phenomenological reflection (EPR), but he does not explicitly use
individual phenomenological reflection (IPR). In recent discussions, Giorgi proposes the
use of imaginative variation (part of EPR) in addition to structural analysis, although he has
not explicitly operationalized this procedure. Giorgi does not sustain the level-of-discourse
distinction between fundamental description (FD) and that of FS. Giorgi's fundamental
themes are analogous to description on the FD level, but themes focus on part-meanings
within the implicit context of the whole, and not on the integrated meaning description it-
self as in Colaizzi's FD.
Giorgi brings in another important distinction and order into the methodology by
identifying the situated structure and the general structure. He works with individual ex-
periences and protocols until he reaches the level of articulation of situated structure. Only
then does he "universalize" or "essentialize," that is, transcend the existentially situated
specificity in favor of an essential trans situational understanding. Another far-reaching
change and feature of Giorgi's methodology is its emphasis on life-world experience. He
studies learning as it happens to persons in their unique life-contexts, as a natural bio-
graphical task and experience. With the use of this approach, the importance of the inter-
subjective dimension or the interpersonal context of learning has emerged as an important
facet and structural feature of the phenomenon. As Pollio (1981, p. 163) states regarding
Giorgi's work:

Learning "happened" for E.W. when she was directly told something quite specific by an im-
portant other person about a problem situation that had been bothering her for a long time. The
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 43

learning took place when she could apply that information to a new situation after having seen a
few prior examples.
Even though E.W. is only one person, a careful reading of her approach to learning yields
some interesting results. For one, the interpersonal nature of human learning comes through loud
and clear: Not only does E.W. learn about vertical and horizontal lines from her friend Myrtis, she
finds confirmation for her new way of looking at things by comparing it with her husband's less
precise statement that the "room looks different." A second important point is that learning is
sensed by the learner as a "new way of looking at things" that leads to new, previously impossible
changes. Learning, from a first-person point of view, always seems to include a person's experien-
tial history, for "a new way of looking at things" implies that there was an "old way." In addition,
learning outside the laboratory always seems to involve an interpersonal context. For learning to
have occurred, the learner must perceive or behave in a new way with respect to his or her own per-
sonal history, a way that was not previously possible.

Giorgi's multi-level analyses are quite complex. In his view (Giorgi, 1975a), they
closely parallel the complexities of the multiple quantitative analyses that can be conducted
in terms of numerical operations: as statistics, which yield "measures." The various quali-
tative analyses occur in terms of linguistic operations: as explications, which yield "end
products." As Giorgi (1975a, pp. 78-79) says of this parallelism:
I would describe what I have done as the development of a phenomenologically based pro-
cedure for the analysis of linguistic descriptions-as opposed to numerical descriptions. If there
is a parallel with the achievements of numerical procedures it would be because a phenomenol-
ogy of mathematics would lead to similar findings. In other words, the root or ground of both lin-
guistic descriptive analysis and numerical descriptive analysis is ultimately in the perceptions
and thoughts of man. It is this reflexive or self-referential movement that phenomenology tries to
comprehend.

Developing the implications of this parallelism, it would seem that the type of statistic
used-the level of qualitative analysis pursued-would depend on the intention of the
researcher and the "appropriateness" to the problem studied. In the quantitative para-
digm, this depends on the "design of the experiment," set up as the procedural guide-
line designed in order to answer questions and test hypotheses. In the qualitative
paradigm, it depends on the guiding questions that the researcher already has about the
phenomenon he or she investigates, that is, what he or she considers most important
about the process under investigation: the phenomenon. We have to distinguish two lev-
els of questioning:
1. The data-generating questions: This is the question asked of the subject, what the
description is to be about, what phenomenon is to be selected and described.
2. The explication-guiding questions: This refers to the set of questions that the exis-
tential-phenomenological researcher addresses to the data, that guide his or her reflective
questioning of the data, that is, explication.
The different researchers presented in this section ask different questions on both lev-
els. They are interested in different phenomena and they do explications differently.
Van Kaam (1966, p. 323) asks:
1) Does this concrete, colorful, formulation by the subject contain a moment of expe-
rience that might be a necessary and sufficient constituent of the experience of really feeling
understood?
2) If so, is it possible to abstract this moment of experience and to label the abstraction briefly
and precisely without violating the formulation presented by the subject?

He calls the answers to these questions "necessary constituents." Van Kaam then composes
a "synthetic description of the experience," his "end product."
44 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

Giorgi's (1975a, p. 88) explication-guiding questions are:

I) What is learning? What does this statement tell me about learning? How does this state-
ment reveal significance about the nature of learning?

This leads to two levels in the description of structure: "situated structure" and "gen-
eral structure."
2) How did learning take place?

The answer to this question is given the term "style." It is also written for two levels, situ-
ated style and general style, depending upon whether the specifics of the subject's existen-
tial situation are taken into account or not.

On the Experience of Being Anxious: William Fischer

In his book Theories ofAnxiety, Fischer (1970a) attempts an integration of anxiety the-
ories. In his phenomenological characterization of the "faces of anxiety," Fischer (1970b)
presents a free-flowing informal but carefully argued report on his phenomenological re-
flective analysis of an actual report of "healthy anxious experiencing" and an imaginal ex-
ample-created by Fischer himself-of"neurotic anxious experiencing." He analyzes both
examples through a palpating reflective questioning in which he highlights the significant
phenomenological themes and structures in dialogue with the descriptions. There is not yet
at this stage in Fischer's work-around 1970-a full formalization of the method in speci-
fied steps, which, however, emerges fully articulated in 1978.
In his paper entitled "On the Phenomenological Mode of Researching 'Being Anx-
ious,''' Fischer (1974) provides us with another explicit example and chronicle of doing
research in a phenomenological mode in a more clinical psychological context. He studies
the phenomenon of "being anxious."
Fischer (1974, p. 410) explicitly acknowledges a close collaborative relationship with
the method worked out by Giorgi:
Casting about for a place to begin, I discovered that Giorgi had already described, at least in
its basic outlines, a three-stage method for analyzing qualitative, experiential descriptions or pro-
tocols. While the method that I came to use and am still evolving is not an exact, carbon copy of
his, it is certainly based upon his suggested procedure to a significant degree.

1. Problem and Question Formulation: The Phenomenon. Regarding his general

approach to research as a phenomenological psychologist, Fischer (1974, p. 408) states:
One of the more important implications of all this is that every research enterprise, every ef-
fort to systematically understand and/or explain some phenomenon, becomes graspable as a
project that actually seeks to further some perspectival access to that phenomenon. The re-
searcher utilizes his own as well as others' experiences of the researched, in order to bring to
increasingly articulate intelligibility his own already operative, personally evolving, semi-
articulate preconception ofthe researched. Thus, the history of the researcher's relations with the
researched is an unfolding, evolving dialectic, one pole of which is constituted by the re-
searcher's presuppositions and preconceptions pertinent to the researched-what Giorgi has
called his approach-while the other pole consists of the researched content, that is, the phe-
nomenon that is under study as it has been solicited, illuminated, and articulated by the re-
searcher's questions and methods.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 45

In his research, Fischer reports on two related studies: one on the experience of one's
being anxious and the other focusing on "the experience of another person being anxious."
In this report, we will limit ourselves to a discussion of the first: "one's own being anxious."
Fischer (1974, p. 408) formulated the following question to gain access to the experience of
being anxious:
Please describe in detail a situation in which you were anxious. To the extent that you can re-
call it, please include in your description some characterization of how your anxiousness showed
itself to you as well as some statement of how you were, that is, what you experienced and did,
when you were anxious.

2. Data-Generating Situation: Descriptions. Regarding the situation in which the

data descriptions for the research were generated, Fischer (1974, p. 408) reports:
I asked the students in my undergraduate personality theory class-about seventy per semes-
ter-to submit, as their term papers, descriptions of situations in which they themselves had been
anxious. Needless to say, all the students were told in advance that I was interested in the phenom-
ena of being anxious and that I wanted to read descriptions of other peoples' experiences with this
human possibility. Further, all the students were asked if their descriptions could be read to others
and/or used for publication.

Fischer thus obtained a large collection of descriptions of the experience of being anx-
ious from college students in a psychology class. The demand-character ofthe situation was
that the descriptions served as a term paper, in the context of an evaluative classroom situ-
ation. The students presumably made their best effort under those conditions, and, indeed,
as we look at the single case example of a descriptive narrative reported by Fischer, we find
an unusually articulate, perceptive, and dramatic rendering of an experience of being anx-
ious' an excellent protocol.
It is clear that the richer, the more detailed, the more dramatic the experiential de-
scriptions are, "the better the data," the better will be our opportunity for explications on
the basis of these data. Empirical existential-phenomenological researchers are very much
aware ofthis issue and the associated methodological problems. Giorgi (1975b, p. 74)
comments:
Lastly, I would like to say a few words about description itself. All approaches in sympathy
with phenomenology agree that one must begin with naive description. The discipline enters in
when one has to analyze what has been described. Secondly, from a phenomenological perspective,
description or language is access to the world of the describer. Descriptions, of course, can be bet-
ter or worse or even enigmatic, but they always reveal something of the world of the describer, even
if it is only the fact of an enigmatic world. The task of the researcher is to let the world of the de-
scriber, or more concretely, the situation as it exists for the subject, reveal itself through the de-
scription in an unbiased way. Thus it is the meaning of the situation as it exists for the subject that
descriptions yield. While detailed knowledge concerning the criteria for better or poorer descrip-
tions would be helpful, it is equally clear that good descriptions communicating the intentions of
the describer do exist.

In our own work, we have found it most congenial and productive to begin with writ-
ten descriptions in the context of an explicit invitation to a collaborative research venture
and then, in a second step called collaborative dialogue, to engage in a clarifying inter-
view-dialogue with the contributors so as to amplify the personal meanings expressed in
the initial descriptions (von Eckartsberg, 1971). We thus start from a twofold "database":
description plus interview transcript.
 46 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

3 and 4. Data-Study Procedure (Explication) and Presentation of Results (For-

mulation). Fischer (1974, p. 410) comments upon his explication procedure in a first
characterization:
Each student's description was a relatively circumscribed chronicle; each characterized the un-
folding of a particular event-the person's own anxiousness or his experience of another being anx-
ious-from a particular perspective.

He then gives the full protocol of one particular student (Fischer 1974, pp. 413-414) and
comments:
As I continued to read and reread this, as well as other protocols, I gradually realized that each
consisted of a series of interrelated scenes, that is, shifts in the focal attention of the one providing
the description. Further, the central themes of each of these scenes was derived from and yet
uniquely contributory to the overarching sense of the whole event that was being described and un-
folded. In other words, each protocol constituted a structure; the meanings of the whole were given
in the meanings of the interrelated parts or scenes, but the meanings of these were dependent upon
the sense of the whole to which they pointed. Finally, I could see that the meanings of the whole
were given in the ways that the successive scenes blended one into the next.

Proceeding with the work of explication, Fischer (1974, p. 414) reports:

I took as my first task an articulation of the central themes that characterized the respective,
unfolding scenes of each protocol. Further, wherever possible, I tried to state these themes in the
student-subject's own language. Thus, in this manner I began the process of trying to situate myself
vis-a-vis the totality of each protocol's structure so that it would speak to me in its own terms, so
that it would show me all of its constituents, and so that in the unfolding of its scenes, I might grasp
its inner logic and sense.

He thus articulates the descriptive narrative, the "chronicle," the series of "interrelated and
successive scenes" in terms of central themes.
Although Fischer reports that he "tried to state these themes in the student-subject's
own language," a look at the wording of the central themes shows that he actually first
transformed the characterization from a first person singular "I-report" (Actor report) into
a third person singular narration, that is, into a psychological scientific observer report: "S
did this and this ...." Fischer closely retains, however, the narrative sequence and the vari-
ety of described experiences well articulated in the rich protocol that served as the starting
point for the explication.
Continuing the work of explication-now working with the central themes as repre-
sentative of the original protocol-Fischer (1974, p. 416) reports:
Having thus articulated the central themes that seemed to characterize each shift in focus, that
is, each scene of the protocol, I turned my attention to an explicit interrogation of the meanings of
being anxious that were lived, experienced and described therein. The questions that oriented this
reflective enterprise were: what was the anxious situation that this person found herself in, and
what did it mean for her to live that situation anxiously?

The aim of these explication-guiding questions is to arrive at a characterization and

"understanding of the meanings of being anxious as she lived, experienced, and described
them." Fischer comments upon the difficulties involved in moving from the subject's de-
scriptions to a characterization of the situated meanings of what Giorgi calls the "situated
structure." Writes Fischer (1974, p. 416):
At this juncture, I must disappoint those readers who are looking for some procedure that
would be analogous to traditional experimental design or statistics. I cannot offer a method of
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 47

analysis that allows one to proceed strictly by the numbers. Instead, I would suggest that the move-
ment of my reflections was quite similar to that which is utilized in the following everyday life sit-
uation: Imagine that a person is seeking to secure from his friend a characterization of a particular
other whom the friend has recently met. The friend is graciously willing to repetitively describe
his experience of this other without limit. However, despite the person's persistent questions, the
friend confines himself to the exact same words. Still, to the extent that this description is broad
and yet detailed, there begins to emerge a more or less coherent sense of the other. In going back
to the friend's words again and again, the person eventually came to realize a stable, though per-
spectival grasp of the other.
In going back to this student-subject's description again and again, I was able to achieve the
following understanding of the meanings of being anxious as she lived, experienced and described
them.

The next move in explication, in the method Fischer describes, is to go from situated
specificity of a unique person's existential situation to the level of "essential or invariant
meanings," to the general structure. Fischer (1974, pp. 417-418) reports in this context:
While the foregoing constitutes a characterization of the meanings of being anxious as they
were lived, experienced and described by a particular person in a particular situation, the ultimate
goal of my phenomenological analyses is to move towards a description of the essential or invari-
ant meanings of being anxious as a fundamental human possibility. Thus, by analyzing instances of
being anxious in their particularity, I hope to come to an understanding of being anxious in its such-
ness, in its universality. To this end, I took the characterization of the meanings of being anxious as
they were lived by that particular girl in that particular situation, and I brought it together with other
such characterizations based upon other protocols. Reading and rereading these, I sought to de-
scribe what seemed to be essential meanings of being anxious as they were revealed through the
variant characterizations of these particular instances.
Again, I cannot say that I followed some straight-forward, mechanical, by-the-numbers pro-
cedure. However, I would ask the reader to think about what he sometimes does when an other
asks him to describe, for example, a humanist, or a behaviorist, or a psychoanalyst, or a schizo-
phrenic, or a representative of whatever group he might like. When he responds positively to this
kind of request, he soon becomes involved in an inductive movement that carmot be adequately
characterized as a simple abstracting of common elements. Rather, in gradually coming to a sense
of a particular kind of person, in his or her typicality, he imaginatively and creatively reunder-
stands and surpasses his own characterizations of the various styles of being anxious that were re-
vealed in the descriptions.
Similarly, my efforts at illuminating the essential or invariant meanings of being anxious are
based upon my readings and analyses of how this fundamental human possibility has been incar-
nated in the particular instances that were described by the student-subjects. In each of their re-
spective protocols, meanings of being anxious were discovered as more or less explicit themes. As
an increasingly articulate sense of this phenomenon began to emerge, it was seen that these themes,
incarnated in the variations of each protocol, constituted the skeletal cores or infrastructures of the
respective protocols. Hence, in reading and rereading each student-subject's description, as well as
my own characterizations of the various styles of being anxious that were revealed in the descrip-
tions, I came to realize the following sense of being anxious in its suchness.

In his "portrayal" of the essential invariant meanings of the experience of being anx-
ious, Fischer distinguishes "two varying modes" or "types." While he does not comment on
the exact origins of this differentiation, it appears from the context that all the descriptions
studied-"about 70 per semester"-follow either one or the other mode.
Fischer found it necessary to distinguish two modes or types of being anxious to ac-
count for the full existential spectrum of situated experiences of being anxious. Reading
Fischer's characterization of "being anxious in its suchness," that is, in terms of its "gen-
eral structure," its "skeletal core" or "infrastructure," it is very noticeable that the final ver-
sion is written from the personal, actor-perspective, that is, in the first person singular: "I
am ... ," "I do ... ," My ... ," etc. Who is "I"?-presumably the universal human, homo
universalis. It is as though the reader, when he or she reads this description, is talking to
 48 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

bim- or herself about him- or herself. Indeed, if the description has achieved universality
of meaning, then it must be possible to say it in the manner of a "universal!." This is a
rather interesting and powerful narrative device, and it avoids the implied distance and ob-
server-orientation that inheres in any third person singular structural characterization, that
is, a structural description in the voice of the scientist, speaking about the subject matter
over there, speaking "objectively" about it (which is another form of narrative manner, an-
other level of discourse).
Ifwe look a little more closely at the metaphors used by Fischer, both in his descrip-
tions and in his characterization of the work of explication-for example, "chronicle,"
"scenes," "successive scenes," "portrayal," the "event organized in terms of scenes"-we
find literary metaphors and the imagery of literary criticism. A type of analysis and formu-
lation presents itself that speaks in terms of actors, of situations and scenes, themes of
moves, of decisions, of responses, of attempts, and of failures. It is a characterization in
terms of dramatic action, much as one would describe the unfolding of a plot in a novel or
a play. We would like to suggest here that the underlying and implicit motif of the charac-
terization of the experience of being anxious is to disclose the ''psychological plot" of the
experience, the "essential experience story-line," that makes being anxious what it is.
We want to make another observation concerning the internal organization of Fischer's
general characterization of being anxious. In comparison with the summated situated de-
scription, the final characterization is much more elaborate and informed by a strong implicit
theory of personality and motivation from within the existential-phenomenological tradition.
More specifically, it is the utilization of the notion of one's personal existential project (Sartre,
I953)-''my project to be a competent human being," ''to become a certain kind of person,"
"effortful commitment," "to perform some self-saving act"-that gives Fischer's characteri-
zation its dramatic power, its internal cohesion and psycho-logic, which blends nicely with the
choice of the grammatical ''universal-I-form.'' Every person can recognize himself or herself
in this familiar psychological plot, provided he or she is familiar with the literature of phe-
nomenology and phenomenological ways of speaking. The level and type of language in
which the characterization of the "essential or invariant meanings" are couched is of a pro-
fessional and phenomenological nature and goes beyond commonsense contents of everyday
language.
We have already referred to Giorgi's statement that explication, particularly the step of
"reduction" (a la van Kaam), involves a translation from the "everyday naive language of
the subject" into the language of psychological science. There are many schools of thought
in psychology, each with its own specialized conceptual framework and language. Giorgi
also states that it seems inevitable that the existential-phenomenological researcher will ex-
press meanings he or she discovers in the "nascent language of phenomenological psychol-
ogy (e.g., structure, style, meanings, situations, etc.)." Thus, we cannot really escape our
approach, "where we are coming from," our theoretical preconceptions. This means that as
part of our approach, we bring with it always an implicit conceptualization of "Who is the
human person?"-that is, personality structure-and "What makes a person move?"-that
is, motivational dynamics. "Humankind as existential project" is a core theoretical concept
of existential-phenomenology, a real theoretical contribution, the discovery of a hitherto ne-
glected phenomenon in the light of a new starting point, a new view of human being, which
elucidates the meaning of our experience in general, and our experience of being anxious in
particular.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 49

In the research by Giorgi, reported before, it was the notions of "awareness" (of the
new), "meaning," and "interpersonal context" that constituted the core insight and line of
articulation of the experience of learning. Again, it was the utilization of core concepts of
existential-phenomenology-awareness, meaning, level of functioning, consciousness, in-
terpersonal context-that opened up the understanding for us. Giorgi, however, utilizes a
more commonsense level of everyday language to express his existential structure, although
his way of speaking is complex, informed by a phenomenological approach. For van Kaam,
the guiding notions are "perceptual-emotional Gestalt," "co-experience," "personal mean-
ing," "relief from experiential loneliness," and "experiential communion," which place him
in communion with the existential-phenomenological framework of thinking and languag-
ing. We cannot escape our theoretical presuppositions, our "approach." All we can do is to
try to make our approach as explicit as possible.
Approach always implies a theoretical preconception, an implicit operative hierarchy
of what we consider most important and illuminating. This preconception is expressed and
revealed through the particular psychological concepts employed. In this sense, existential-
phenomenology is not "a-theoretical" but self-consciously theoretical. As van Kaam (1966,
p. 88) states:
Observation is thus really perceiving what is "out there." But observation is also perceiving
according to a theory of an observing subject. Therefore, existence as observation is necessarily
theoretical and empirical at the same time.

HERMENEUTICAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL STUDIES

The hermeneutical-phenomenological approach to research investigates human ex-

perience as it becomes expressed in spontaneous productions of speech, of writing, or of
art. It emphasizes the understanding or model or paradigm that human actions and interac-
tions can be conceived of as texts that are yet to be interpreted. The "database" on which
hermeneutic work is based is conceived more broadly than in empirical protocol studies.
The steps of explication and the questions that are addressed to the text also vary more
widely in the hermeneutic approach and are less clear and operationalized.
In organizing the research of hermeneutical-phenomenological psychology, we set up
two divisions:
1. Actual life-text studies: In this group are the works that create data, life-texts, by
tape-recording actual verbal expressions in situations, ranging from a "speak-aloud"
protocol on the situated stream of experiaction (von Eckartsberg, 1972), to the study of
therapy transcripts (Fessler, 1983), to research on interview transcripts from a professional
role-ensemble and clients (Kracklauer, 1980), to dialogal research in the framework of a
"conceptual encounter" (de Rivera, 1981).
2. Studies of recollection and literary texts: A second group of hermeneutical-
phenomenological studies comprises the work that draws on personal experience in an in-
tuitive and illustrative way to engage in hermeneutical reflection (Buckley, 1971), work that
utilizes established masterworks of dramatic literature as texts (Halling, 1979), hermeneu-
tical work on the meaning and origins of the theoretical attitude that guides our activities as
researchers and scholars (Jager, 1975), and hermeneutical reflective work on a theme in a
historical context (Romanyshyn, 1982).
 50 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

What follows is a discussion regarding the nature of actual life-text studies, with an ex-
ample from my own work in hermeneutical-phenomenological research. 2

Actual Life-Text Studies

The database for hermeneutical research is typically broader than that for empirical
existential-phenomenological studies. Its contents range from personal documents, to lit-
erature, to works of art that present themselves for interpretation. There does not seem to be
a set starting point or a clearly outlined procedure to follow in hermeneutical-phenomeno-
logical investigations. One embeds oneself in the process of getting involved in the text, one
begins to discern configurations of meaning, of parts and wholes and their interrelatedness,
one receives certain messages and glimpses of an unfolding development that beckons to be
articulated and related to the total fabric of meaning. The hermeneutic approach seems to
palpate its object and to make room for that object to reveal itself to our gaze and ears, to
speak its own story into our understanding.
In hermeneutic work, we grope for the single expression that will do justice to the in-
tegrity, complexity, and essential being of the phenomenon. We become spokespersons and
messengers for the meanings that demand to be articulated. We become intrigued and en-
tangled in the webs and voices of language and its expressive demands. In hermeneutic
work, we become engaged in an expanding network of meaning-enrichment that con-
tributes new meanings to the ongoing dialogue. It is a process of contextualization and am-
plification rather than of structural essentialization. Hermeneutic work is open-ended and
suggestive, concerned with relational fertility.
In a more formal characterization, we can say with Ricoeur (1971) that the hermeneu-
tic approach to the social sciences utilizes the notion of the text as the basic paradigm. Hu-
man action and all other products of human activities as expression-for example, artworks,
rituals, institutions--can be understood as ''text analogues" in need of interpretation.
Titelman (1979) discusses the relevance of Ricoeur's work for a hermeneutic phe-
nomenological psychology. As compared to actual situated experience, as in a face-to-face
dialogue, action as text has the following four discernible characteristics:
1. Fixation of meaning: We need some record or "protocol" of experience or some
transcription or trace with which to work, whether it is produced from personal experience
by direct investigation or taken from works of creative imagination.
2. Dissociation of the mental intention of the author from the text: In contrast to the
face-to-face situation of dialogue, the text is independent of the author's consciousness. It
stands in a new communicative situation. The intentions of the author have to be inferred
and reconstructed by the hermeneutic investigator; they cannot be ascertained by asking the
author. The text stands on its own.
3. Display ofnonostensive references: As Titelman (1979, p. 186) phrases this concern:
The meaning of a subject's descriptive protocol(s) cannot be comprehended by analyzing and
reducing them atomistically into separate and unconnected parts; rather, the meaning of the sub-
ject's described experience(s)lbehavior(s) must be understood in terms of the relation between the
constitutive dimensions.... The descriptive protocol is more than a linear succession of sen-

2 The reader is referred to von Eckartsberg's (I 986) Life-World Experience for additional examples of actual Iife-
text studies, and a discussion and examples of studies of recollection and literary texts.-Ed.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL ~ESEARCH 51

tences-it projects a world, a cumulative and holistic process, the structure of which, like the text,
cannot be derived from or reduced to the linguistic structure of the sentence.

4. Its universal range ofaddress: The text is open for everyone who can read and gain
access to it. Unlike the directed speech of two partners in a situated speech event, the text is
there to be taken up and read in any way whatsoever. Titelman (1979, p. 186) writes:
Like a text, a descriptive protocol can be read by an indefinite range of possible psychologist-
readers. The descriptive protocol, like the text, is an "open work" that awaits fresh interpretations
from different perspectives and as history, in its unfolding, sheds new light on the experiences and
events that have been described. The meaning of a text-analogue is in "suspense" in the sense that
its meaning is never totalized. The description of human experience and behavior, like a text, is
open to everybody who is capable of reading.

While Ricoeur presents a generalized theory of action as text, Titelman's paper relates this
work directly to the problems of a phenomenologically based psychology concerned with
the analysis oflife-world experience.
Another central issue in hermeneutical work is the so-called hermeneutic circle. This
thought-figure describes the open-ended and continuously spiraling nature of the her-
meneutic inquiry and sense-making process. We have foreknowledge about most aspects
of life. We come to any phenomenon with a precomprehension of its meaning, yet in search
of deeper understanding and more precise differentiation. As Titelman (1979, p. 187) states
this:
The circularity of the hermeneutic endeavor is not vicious in that it involves a passage from a
vague pre-conceptual understanding of the meaning of a phenomenon to the explicit seizure of its
meaning. There is no entrance to the hermeneutic circle, no beginning point. The psychological
investigator must "leap" into the circle in order to elucidate it.

The hermeneutic stance acknowledges the perspectival nature and biographico-historical

involvement of the researcher and makes the investigation of the implicit precomprehen-
sions of the researcher part of the interpretative process.
An important consideration in all hermeneutic work is the problem of the validity of
the findings. How can we evaluate the claims of truth made by the various interpretative
readings? Titelman (1979, p. 190) discusses this issue in the following way:

The validation ofthe particular interpretation in the area of the social sciences is not like prov-
ing a conclusion in logic, but rather it is closer to a logic of probability than to a logic of empirical
verification. Showing that a particular interpretation is more probable, given the available knowl-
edge, is different than proving that a conclusion is true.

Ricoeur (1971, p. 553) seems to regard hermeneutics as an argumentative discipline,

as a subspecies of rhetoric, when he says:

Like legal utterances, all interpretations in the field ofliterary criticism and in the social sciences
may be challenged, and the question "what can defeat a claim?" is common to all argumentative situ-
ations. Only in the tribunal is there a moment when the procedures of appeal are exhausted. But it is
because the decision of the judge is implemented by the force of public power. Neither in literary crit-
icism nor in the social sciences, is there such a last word. Or, if there is any, we call that violence.

The validation of interpretation is a difficult issue. Ricoeur thinks that a new type of logic
is involved here, a "logic of uncertainty" and of "qualitative probability."
For Gadamer (1975), the "hermeneutical experience" is one of becoming involved
in a dialogue or a dialectic of question and answer. Its primordial medium is language or
 52 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

"linguisticality," the saying power that creates the world within which understanding and
disclosure take place. Worlds appear between persons in dialogue and rest on the common
ground of our tradition as shared language. In the hermeneutical experience and situation,
an encounter takes place between the heritage that is sedimented in the text, revealing a
world made text from a perspective through a particular experience and the horizon of the
interpreter. Author and reader belong to the language, but differently through the distance
of time and perspective. A "fusion of horizons" takes place in which the reader becomes a
servant of the text, open to hearing what is said and articulating the message.
As Palmer (1969, p. 209) states this issue in commentating on Gadamer's work:
He is not so much a knower as an experiencer: the encounter is not a conceptual grasping of
something but an event in which a world opens itself up to him. Insofar as each interpreter stands
in a new horizon, the event that comes to language in the hermeneutical experience is something
new that emerges, something that did not exist before.
The method appropriate to the hermeneutical situation involving the interpreter and the text,
then, is one that places him in an attitude of openness to be addressed by the tradition. The attitude
is one of expectancy, of waiting for something to happen.

All human understanding is historical, linguistic, and dialectical; each disclosure con-
tributes to the task of developing our effective historical consciousness. According to
Gadamer (1960, p. 350), the task of hermeneutics is
to bring the text out of the alienation in which it finds itself (as fixed, written form) back into the
living present of dialogue, whose primordial fulfillment is question and answer.

On the Social Constitution of the Stream of Experiaction:

Rolf von Eckartsberg
Our awareness of our ongoing stream of consciousness, of experience and action, of
"experiaction," is a fascinating phenomenon. We are always already bodily involved in a
here-and-now situation. Experiaction is situated. Though some awareness has to be used by
a person to relate bodily to his or her physical environment, our experience or conscious
awareness also transcends the situation in order to make present other domains or land-
scapes of consciousness through our modes of psychological access: to remember or to an-
ticipate, to imagine possibilities, to reconstruct, to think and reflect. In experiaction, we are
not limited by or exclusively bound to the physical situation at hand. We live in a psycho-
logical life-space mediated by experiactions of which we are partially aware. We live in a
mappable "psychocosm" (von Eckartsberg, 1981) or a personal "lifescape."
We can research the constitution of the psychocosm by collecting samples from the ex-
periactional flow of a person. We select and specify the situation and duration of the obser-
vational period, thereby setting limits on what and how we can record the experiaction. We
can make concurrent recordings in the form of tape recordings of behavior and dialogue,
and we can create "speak-aloud protocols" by asking our respondents to verbalize every-
thing that occurs to them in conscious awareness. In situations in which the researcher is
alone, this poses no particular problem, although at first it feels unusual to verbalize aloud
in a monologue all of what is "going through one's mind." Speak-aloud protocols
(Aanstoos, 1983; Klinger, 1978; Wertz, 1983) are difficult or impossible to obtain in inter-
personal situations except under special circumstances or in psychoanalytic work. Interest-
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 53

ing attempts have been made to sample the stream of experiaction by the creative use of
kitchen timers (Leary, 1970) and by random electronic beeping (Csikszentmihalyi, 1978) to
alert the person to what he or she is experiencing at the moment.
In my own hermeneutical research, the focus was on a solitary situation in which I
let my experiactional stream unfold itself without censorship, such that it could reflect
underlying personal concerns and social determinants. I simply recorded about 20 min-
utes of my own experience as reportage on a Sony tape recorder. I spoke the experience
as it was happening to the extent that I was capable of doing so: voicing my experience.
In the situation, I sat alone on our sunporch. I felt that it was a very everyday event;
nothing "unusual" happened. I think I was my "usual self," whatever that means. Whenever
I sit down by myself, some such train ofthought and experience unfolds, although naturally
it is always different. That particular day, however, as I started speaking out loud, my expe-
rience quickly became oriented and organized around a particular focus: I had to give a lec-
ture about Experiential Psychology at New College, Florida, two weeks hence. This
anticipated task and event became the major organizing principle-the theme-that shaped
my experience during these 20 minutes. This is what happened, in verbatim excerpts se-
lected in terms of the relevance to the topic: how an anticipated event enters and co-consti-
tutes the flow of experience and how a social determinant, that is, the demand character of
the social situation of giving a public lecture, exerts its shaping influence on the personal
stream of experience. Although I was alone, social reality nevertheless permeates and
shapes my "private" experience.

Transcript from Recording

It's Easter Sunday ... just around noon ... and I'm sitting here in my sunporch ...
gorgeous day ... quiet, very quiet ... looking out over the golf course there ... sun is bright
· .. can see the green, just starting.... The lawns are just beginning to be green here in
Pittsburgh ... Pittsburgh spring is late .... Now looking down there ... see the Steel Build-
ing ... U.S. Steel Building ... just a massive ... gray and brown ... slab there, iron ...
steel slab. ... Now I'm thinking about, uh ... just sitting down ... thinking about experi-
ence ... just tuning in to experience ... my own experience ... what's happening right now
· .. just this next few minutes ... just settling down now ... sort of have to relax, just sort
of quiet ... and uh.... What comes to mind is uh ... that I have to go to Florida ... and
give a talk there at the New School ... at the uh New College .... I got this letter ... Dave,
Dave Smillie ... he called up and asked me to come down and speak ... and uh speak about
experience ... what I'm doing, studying experience, experiential psychology ... and uh.
· .. New College ... I get drawn into that. ... What is that? I only have an image of that; I
have some knowledge of what this means ... but looking forward or just thinking about it.
It's just a concept more or less. An image, maybe faintly ... New College. But this is sort
of an image, visually. I know about it through Dave ... Smillie who came down there,
to teach there, two years ago. He visited, he told me a little bit, he called me up for this
talk ... and uh ... from the conversation I got a feeling for ... New College, a small school,
bright students, very bright students-I heard that also, from a colleague of mine, Jack
Rains. We've had a few conversations about New College, nothing specific. I don't have
a specific image, but this concept now fills up-New College, small school, very bright
 54 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

students, interesting faculty probably. People who want to get close with students, work in-
tensively with students. I know what that's like. That's what we're trying to do also ... at
Duquesne. I know what that is. But when I turn and think of what is my knowledge, what
is my experience ... of New College, looking forward ... empty ... anticipations ... just
pointers, just ... inklings. Nothing substantive, no concrete experience. And uh ... so I can
just flow with the idea of Florida, knowledge .... New College, how a concept ... fills in.
Here I got lost. ...
But somehow I come back to this talk, because uh ... I'm tuning in to this talk. I've
been thinking about what I should be doing. I haven't written out anything yet. I made a few
sketches, in my diary a couple of weeks ago ... having to do with knowledge and uh ... ob-
jective knowledge, SUbjective knowledge. I was reading Roszak then, the counter-culture
and ... about the myth of the objective consciousness ... and uh ... tuning in and going
around consciousness, more as personal consciousness, private consciousness, the flow just
as I've been describing. How unique this is, how uh ... you know, interwoven, intermeshed,
flowing, jumpy, a little bit. Just going along ... I was thinking a little bit about that ... yeah.
. . . So I'm drawn back to: I have to give this talk. So uh I've been thinking, here and there
it comes up. I sit down, I think about it. Anytime it comes upon me. What am I gonna do
there? And uh as it has shaped up, Experiential Psychology, this, this is the title. Dave asked
me for a title, what shall I talk about ... and I said Experiential Psychology. That's, that's
the term I use now for doing what I'm doing.... I'm recording it as it happens right now
and ... you know, my eyes sometimes drift off, swerve off the thrust of attention that I had
focused on this talk and ... and ... then I shift back into, let my eyes connect me with the
world, because that's what I'm talking about, the ... you know, what I'm conscious of, the
intentional aspect of consciousness, as phenomenologists would say ... that consciousness
is of something. It's always what you pay attention to as it presents itself, and it presents it-
self in different ... levels, guises. Close up, I'm connected. I'm in touch ... with the eyes,
hands, sitting in this blue chair, heavy, I'm just relaxed, sitting, and ... I can feel my body,
my arms on the chair here and ... looking out, that view, I like that view; that view called
me so I was getting away from ... describing what I was doing, recording the experience,
just giving an account just like a radio announcer who would describe an event, so I was
describing the event of sitting here in this room right now ... quiet, as I said, you know, it's
this atmosphere and ... I let my mind go, you have to just, just let it glide, let it flow, let it
go around and in doing so it's an exploration in experience, it's sort oflike the movement,
a journey, an experiencing. It always comes back to: I'm thinking about this talk and ...
how I'm recording it now, because that's one of the things I came up with ... just thinking
about what I should do, why not record experience, and then comment upon it, the second
stage, and reflect upon it, take it into a more thoughtful, reflective generalizing stance, and
then those three steps would be what I would present-not talking about Experiential Psy-
chology. I don't like the "about," talking about something out there anymore. I'd really like
to just get into it. So, so this is, I feel, getting into it. Just a short recording, a few minutes.
It's only been ten minutes or something. Just a few minutes and then uh I'll take this as the
data and begin to talk about it, think about it, show how consciousness is manifested. It's
just an everyday event. ... So much for the structure of this ....
But what intrigues me is the knowledge, the way in which I am connected ... to ...
New College-people here, the ideas. I have sort of two personal connections-Jack Rains
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 55

... and Dave Smillie-conversations that continue with these two, which put me in touch
with this place there and ... it's at a distance, and how we know at a distance, and ... how
we really know at a distance ... through the experience of other people ... it's through these
conversations that ... the world becomes richer, it grows, it's challenged. There's a dialec-
tic there so that ... experience ... it is not just personal but it involves others. It's inter-
personal experience basically. And so even sitting down here by myself with this Sony
machine. Yet, nevertheless, I'm also already anticipating this event in the presence of ...
this event that I have to perform, or that I have to be at, or that I have to conduct. So it's an
interpersonal situation.

Reflection
Now, I would like to go over this experience to amplify and to reflect upon it in a con-
templative attitude of openness, of letting the phenomenon-the meaning constitution of
my stream of experience-speak to me. The material is quite rich and lends itself to reflec-
tion in many different ways, answering many explication-guiding questions. I will develop
one particular theme that has to do with the way in which a socially determined event-the
task to give a lecture-in the future, as anticipated, enters and helps constitute the ongoing
stream of experiaction in a meditative moment and setting. The future event seems to cast
its "shadow" on the here and now. The task ahead exerts a demand character on me; it has
a claim on me to heed it, and to fill my time in anticipation and preparing and structuring it
in my consciousness prior to its enactment in tangible reality.
As I go along, reflecting on this experience, I try to discover essential or universal
aspects of the process of experience. These are exemplified in this unique-concrete re-
ported event, but they can be said to be valid for experiencing in general. This constitutes
the reflective work, looking back and thinking about this experience, discovering mean-
ingful patterns and structures, universal features that are lived out concretely in a unique
fashion.
This is perhaps a first universal we find concerning experiaction: that it is situated and
hence in a close interface with the material-and-meaning-organization of the situation. We
cannot study experience apart from the situation in which it originates. As individuals, we
participate in a large though never unlimited repertoire of situations, and hence the domains
of experience to be studied are quite expansive. In interpersonal terms, experiaction varies,
of course, depending on who the people in dialogue are in relationship to each other. With
an intimate friend, you obviously tend to experiact spontaneously and in a spirited manner,
whereas with strangers a more formal style prevails.
Reflecting on the first part of my experience, it became situated within the context of
an implied presence of an audience-a sophisticated college audience in my anticipation,
as my movement into a thoughtful and psychological-experientiallanguage indicates. Also,
the choice oftopics within the "monologue"-knowledge, concepts, images, conversational
community, perspectivity-makes sense within the context of my envisioning the type of
my anticipated audience.
As we can readily see from this, my experience was embedded in multiple contexts
of meaning, such as to "record and experience," "make it relevant to the talk," "something
for the New College," "representing the approach of experiential psychology," which are
 56 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

all part of my definition of the situation. To be concrete and faithful to what happened, I
would have to differentiate the physical situation (sunporch) from the experiaction defi-
nition of the situation (recording an experience for my talk), which in a sense constitutes
a situation within a situation. The experiaction is held together and derives its coherence
and meaning from the future event (giving this talk) to which it refers and for which it
is preparatory. In motivational terms, we can speak of my "awareness and commitment
of giving this talk" as being the project that then ties together many strands of my ex-
perience that contribute to setting up the event. With these experiences, I prepare for
the event.
Within the recorded experience, I noted that I had thought of this occasion several
times and that slowly a strategy had evolved. Recording my experience was part of the pro-
cedure.1t makes sense only as part of this overall event that got set off in Dave Smillie's
awareness before he called me on the phone, then entered my life through the call and has
occupied my attention intermittently throughout this period ... involving sometimes sus-
tained thought-work as I am writing this reflection here and now. It is entering a new phase
right this moment-one week after the description-and it will continue to call on my at-
tention for some time to come, depending on what happens with it in relationship to other
aspects of my living. Any event has its own unfolding life within the rest of a life.
Reflecting on this experience so far, I have highlighted how there is a situated context
and focus and guideline that pulls the strands of experiencing together. This continued fo-
cus or project allows me to "stay on track" and to become aware of distraction or detours
that pull me in another direction. The implication for our understanding of the nature of ex-
periaction is that experience is always something (the content of consciousness) that typi-
cally occurs in the service of something else, be it the guiding intention of the conscious
person or the habitual and hence anonymous biosocial programming. We might call this the
double intentionality of consciousness. Naturally, we may not always be conscious of our
intention in this double sense.
Questioning the meaning ofan experience leads to the widening of the horizon of un-
derstanding, to a broadening of the context. We see this particular situation in the broader
context of an array of situations that are held together in their intermittent and yet continu-
ous and sequential unfolding by an overarching intent or project. The ultimate context for
an individual is his or her life-project (the way Sartre works this out in his existential psy-
choanalysis) and the projects that society and culture provide. Each moment of experience
is therefore also embedded in a particular sociocultural matrix of meaning. Let me reflect
on how this works.
In my recorded experience, I accept the "social," that is, "professional collegiate," de-
finition of the situation to a large degree. I choose a certain level of language. I accept the
etiquette of formal presentation. I had been screening out imaginative variations. I tended
toward the serious atmosphere prevailing in academic circles in my monologue; there was
little humor, which tends to sparkle easily in the presence of others and not so readily "in
solitary." It seems that projects-not necessarily rational projects exclusively, to be sure-
hold situations together and that situations are the matrix of all particular experiactions that
may occur within them.
But "situation" is itself a term that needs clarification. In the context of this recorded
experiaction-this situated event-it becomes clear that we are involved in a complex
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 57

structure. Using the thought-dimension of time, we can see that my situation-sitting bod-
ily on the sunporch in Pittsburgh-was transcended in awareness both forward in time, to
my anticipated presence at New College in Florida two weeks hence, as well as backward
in time, to my remembered-presence to conversations with Dave Smillie back in Pittsburgh
a few years ago. In other words, any situated experiaction spills over its physical space-time
dimensions, unless one is able to limit one's awareness by concentration. In experiaction,
we can move freely and usually extend ourselves beyond our bodily here and now. This is
why an exclusive focus on the observer attitude is misleading to a large extent.
We can describe this by saying that experiaction, even though it presents itself to us as
orchestrated and unified, can be recognized as occurring at different layers. Psychological
language has names for these different experiential processes, such as perception, thought,
memory, anticipation, and imagination. Although it makes some sense to distinguish these
levels or modalities of experience-particularly since we as persons have some measure of
control over where to direct our attention and what modality to use-there is usually a mix-
ture of modalities occurring in any concrete experienced event. They run together.
Going back to my recorded experience, it is apparent that in my experiaction I moved
back and forth in time, and that I also moved from immediate perception to recalling to con-
ceptualizing to questioning. In a sense, everything is connected within the unity of my own
consciousness, and we are witnessing an organic process of interpenetration and growth
with continuous evolving transformation-informed and shaped by efforts at making
sense-giving rise to complex understanding and awareness of the functioning of con-
sciousness. By comparison, computer memories are terribly static and dead.
Human awareness as it is accessible to description and reflection is intriguingly com-
plex, subtle, and challenging to understanding. If there are any root motives to human life,
certainly one of them is to understand and to make sense of experiencing one's world, al-
though not everybody might feel this urge, which is the beginning of scientific and philo-
sophical interest.
Studying experience is different from studying physical or even biological reality out
there. The moment people are involved-human experiaction-we are dealing with inter-
preted reality, with human meanings. For me, it's the US. Steel Building the way I see it, in
terms of what it means to me, and this is dependent upon what my extended relationship
with the US. Steel building is, my knowledge, my attitudes, my values, etc. In one act of
awareness, looking at this building-as I sustain my focus of attention, as I tune in and just
hold steady in this determinate direction-all my past and future involvement somehow as-
sembles relevant experiences to fill in and amplify the meaning of what I am looking at. An
organic structuring of the total stock of my experience occurs around the focus of my at-
tention, the US. Steel BUilding.
In phenomenology, we speak of experienced horizons that open out from the spectacle.
The focus of attention acts as a sort of vortex or vacuum field that draws into itself relevant
items from our stock of experiaction established through previous contact. Thus, associated
meanings are awakened and begin to dwell in the invisible and hovering presence around and
through the topical focus of interest, modulating its meaning. For example, my wife and I,
though we may be looking at the same identifiable structure (the US. Steel Building), nev-
ertheless experience two different realities: what this spectacle means to her and what it
means to me. We agree on the same object of reference-on this level we have common
58 ROLF VON ECKARTSBERG

understanding-but we differ in what it means-in its idiosyncratic meaning. Using Gur-

witsch's phenomenological language, what we are aware of is the total meaning co-consti-
tuted by the thematic object (the U.S. Steel Building) and the thematic field (the U.S. Steel
Building meaning-horizons for me). Experience is thus a constantly changing and evolving
cumulative meaning manifold, shifting from aspect to aspect and from domain to domain.
Yet, despite the personal subtleties and nuances in the unique flavor of experiacting, there are
the common foci about which we can establish consensus-what we are talking about-and
there are universal shared features of experiacting-the way in which something appears to
a person-always as contextualized, from a perspective, in time, and other factors.
The experiactional stream of a person can be seen to be organized. It takes place in a
situation as a "situated event." Events have a duration through time; they could be called
Time-Gestalten Events (such as giving a public lecture) that tend to appear first in the
stream of experience in imaginary anticipation, usually as a result of a social invitation or
as a self-initiated project. In anticipatory experience, projected events are developed,
worked on, thought about on repeated occasions. The event takes shape in experience as
an anticipation (what I thought the lecture to be like) before it takes place (what it turns out
to be in actuality). This process has consequences and is important because it results in
strategy-decisions that actually create the future event. During the recorded experience, I
actually decided what I was going to do for the lecture. (Needless to say, one can make
mistakes and proceed from an inadequate anticipatory image. I imagined myself to be
speaking to interested psychology students, and the audience turned out to be senior citi-
zens in retirement in Florida who like to hear a lecture at the college on any topic. They
were very kind to me.)
The meaning of this anticipated event, which has personal (what shall I do) as well as
social-professional horizons (what is expected of an existential-phenomenological psy-
chologist and of a lecturer in a college setting, generally), sets limits as to what is allowed
into the imaginary anticipation or the projecting. These limits could be said to act as
"charges" upon my experiaction here and now. It seems that the event in anticipatory elab-
oration is richer and allows more play in experience. As we approach the actualization
proper (actually giving the lecture), the range of possibilities narrows. Anticipation has to
become embodied: It springs into action and enters the domain of public and shared social
reality. We enact and we witness the event.
Any component of the experiactional stream-particularly in the anticipating phases
of event-structures-is built up in complex ways. This may be described as "interwoven-
ness." Whatever we focus on (e.g., the U.S. Steel Building in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) can
be seen to arise on a string of previous encounters reaching back into one's at-bottom inde-
terminate biographical stock of experiaction. This stock hovers horizonally around the
theme-what I pay attention to at the moment-and codetermines its meaning. This makes
for idiosyncratic meanings. But our past experience is also in a good measure shared (so-
cial) because it is based on experiences of communication to which I had access through
language or images. To some extent, therefore, there is also a public and shared meaning to
a perceived theme.
Components of the experiactional stream are also gathered up and connected through
a higher and unifying intention, the project. We take many steps to actualize a project, and
we also seem to have more than one project going on at anyone time. This tends to "mix
up" our stream of experiaction in surprising and complex ways.
EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESEARCH 59

In this study, I took a small strip (20 minutes of continuous experiaction: sitting down
and recording what occurs to me) that turned out to be connected to the larger sequence of
being involved in giving a lecture. This event as an overarching project casts its shadow
ahead of itself and colored my anticipatory experience in clearly definable ways.
The general structural features uncovered here through reflection were present and at
work during my experiaction although I was not explicitly aware of them at the time, while
living them out. Nevertheless, my prereflective experiaction turned out to have been struc-
tured and organized. In what I thought was a unique-private experience, general-universal
structures were revealed and operative. The personal-existential and the general-phenome-
nological components are inextricably intertwined and collaborative in the creation of human
experience in a particular situation. They constitute a tension inherent in the flow of experi-
action. In living, we constantly move between these levels, and as researchers in this field, we
always try to bridge this "gap" that arises in understanding and dichotomizes "lived imme-
diacy" and ''theoretical understanding." Either extreme-"just living" or "just thinking"-if
emphasized unduly is an aberration. The human way is to experiact and to make sense of it
so that mere living-out is humanized into living-with-awareness. This can never be fully ac-
complished, but is always in process, ongoing. Everyone has to unfold his or her own aware-
ness and understanding, recognizing that the depth or ground of living eludes objectification
and final conceptual grasp. We can only tune in and become involved.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

In offering this overview and illustration of existential-phenomenological research in

psychology, I have been aware that there may be other ways of organizing these diverse
analyses oflife-world experience and that there are types and areas of research not included
in this presentation. We are discussing "work in progress," and the examples offered should
be understood as discoveries and formulations along the way, rather than as ironclad, Pro-
crustean schemes of data analysis. The personality, style, and world view of the re-
searcher-interpreter enter into both empirical and hermeneutical phenomenological work,
as in the continuous questioning and examination of implicit assumptions that is itself part
of the hermeneutical enterprise and that makes it sometimes difficult to specify the method-
ological "steps" involved in doing hermeneutical research. There is an unanalyzable, idio-
syncratic component operative in all interpretive-phenomenological work that is associated
with an original vision of human reality held by the researcher. It is this realization of the
implicit interconnectedness between the researcher and that which he or she explores that
characterizes any research study, however categorized, as phenomenological.

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 3

The Question of Reliability

in Interpretive Psychological
Research 1
A Comparison of
Three Phenomenologically Based
Protocol Analyses
Scott D. Churchill, Julie f. Lowery,
Owen McNally, and Aruna Rao

The "Achilles heel" of interpretive research is that two or more researchers, confronted with
the same data, posing the same question(s), will invariably express their findings differ-
ently. Different words will be used to express the "same" (i.e., congruent) meanings; it is
also likely, of course, that different meanings will be thematized as well. Thus, there arises
the question of the reliability of interpretive research methods. In what sense can a method
(when applied by multiple researchers to the same set of data) yield results that are not
"consistent" yet can still be considered "reliable"? Should we alter our definition of relia-
bility to accommodate qualitative methods, or should we adhere to definitions of reliability

1An earlier version of this chapter appeared in Methods: A Journal for Human Science, 1992 Annual Edition.

Scott D. Churchill, Julie E. Lowery, Owen McNally, and Aruna Rao • Department of Psychology, Uni-
versity of Dallas, Irving, Texas 75062.

63
 64 scon D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

that have been developed with respect to quantitative methods? Should we abandon inter-
pretive research altogether if it cannot stand up to existing scientific conventions? These
questions are merely rhetorical, for it is clear to us that definitions of methodological crite-
ria are themselves a function of human understanding and interpretation; thus, they cannot
be carved in stone and are always open to reconsideration.
Let us begin with a preliminary definition of the issue we are addressing: "Reliability
refers to the consistency of a measuring procedure or instrument. A method of measure-
ment is reliable if it always produces the same result under the same conditions" (Lewin,
1979). Reliability assumes that one can establish an equivalence of measurement. In the
modem sciences, "measurement" has come to mean quantification according to an estab-
lished standard or scale. When measurement is in numbers, then equivalence can readily be
established in view of the principle of identity: In observations of the behavioral perfor-
mances of white rats, for instance, 10 seconds equals 10 seconds, just as 10 copulations
equals 10 copulations. Thus, in quantitative research, we have a criterion for "equivalence"
that is both formal and objective and that makes the establishment of reliability a matter of
"fact," something we can "count" on. However, when measurement takes the form of a nar-
rative description that employs connotative language (imagine, for example, two college
laboratory assistants separately describing the relative vigor of the copulatory behavior of
two white rats), then the equivalence of description is less easy to establish. Indeed, not only
is the criterion for agreement between two verbal descriptions not clearly defined, but also
an agreement among judges regarding the equivalence of descriptions becomes equally dif-
ficult to establish.
In the interest of providing a concrete demonstration to serve as a basis for reflection
on the issue of reliability in phenomenologically based interpretive research, we will pre-
sent below one protocol and three analyses. The protocol was drawn from a thesis by the
second author, a study of current sexual experiences described by subjects who previously
had been victims of date rape (Lowery, 1991). The protocol was analyzed subsequently by
two other researchers (who were not told about the subject's prior experience). All three re-
searchers were trained by the senior author in the employment of an empirical existen-
tial-phenomenological method-that is, they had been taught to perform analyses of
self-report data, grounded both methodologically and conceptually in the literature of exis-
tential-phenomenology. Each researcher was free to bring his or her own set of questions
and interests to the data.

METHODOLOGY

The process of empirically based phenomenological research generally proceeds

through three discernible phases. First, there is the formulation of a research problem; sec-
ond, the collection and analysis of data; third, the communication of one's findings in the
form of a written or oral presentation. Much of the literature on phenomenological method
deals with the essential preparatory moments of interpretation: (I) intuition-the process
by which one familiarizes oneself with the phenomenon: living it, reexperiencing it, co-
performing it, taking it up--and (2) analysis-the process by which one actually discerns
the constituents of the phenomenon. The results that emerge from the preparatory phases of
intuition and analysis can be described as a "culminating description" (Spiegelberg, 1982,
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 65

pp. 681ft). What is not very often discussed is theform and content of phenomenological
findings, which will vary according to the interpretive framework and discursive style of
the researcher. 2 (Indeed, it is the aim of this chapter to provide the reader with a basis for
better appreciating how differing styles of analysis can coherently and consistently con-
verge upon common reference points of data.)
The actual moments or "steps" of an existential-phenomenological psychologist's re-
flection upon protocol (or self-report) data have been described by numerous authors, most
notably the initial formulators of this "family" of methods, including Colaizzi (1973, 1978),
Fischer (1974, 1978, 1985), Giorgi (1975, 1985), Van Kaam (1966), and von Eckartsberg
(1971, 1986).3 In addition, one can find elaborations of the empirical-phenomenological
method in Churchill and Wertz (1985), Moustakas (1994), Polkinghome (1989), and Wertz
(1983a, b, 1985). The culminating description, insofar as it is the articulation of the re-
searcher's understanding, is an "interpretation" in the Heideggerian sense of the term: " ...
interpretation is grounded existentially in understanding" (Heidegger, 1962, p. 189); more-
over, "that which can be Articulated in interpretation ... is what we have called 'meaning'"
(p. 204). Interpretation is, then, the actual working out ofpossible meanings that have been
projected in advance by one's understanding in the face ofa manifest experience. In other
words, the researcher is not simply a tabula rasa receiving impressions from the data;
rather, he or she is present to the data guided by what Heidegger (1962) calls a "fore-sight"
or what Hussed (1973) called "anticipation." Note here that the articulated meaning is con-
sidered only a possibility in relation to the subject matter of one's understanding. This
means that the "equivalence" of two or more interpretations will not be based upon a nec-
essary identity, but rather upon a congruence ofpossibilities. We shall return to this issue
later in the chapter.

Procedure Employed

The method employed by the three researchers in this study was drawn from the liter-
ature cited above and consisted of reading the subject's protocol, then breaking it down into
"meaning units" (each of which expresses a discriminate theme). These themes were then
reflected upon and articulated in the form of a moment-by-moment analysis that was sub-
sequently organized by each researcher into a coherent statement that expressed the psy-
chological meaning of the experience as a whole. Following Churchill's (1990, 1991a)
approach to teaching phenomenological methodology, each researcher's intuition and analy-
sis of meaning was guided by these essential guidelines:

1. Empathic Dwelling
The phenomenological approach requires that the researcher enter into direct, personal
contact with the psychological event being studied. One brings oneself to the encounter
with the research phenomenon by patiently "listening to" or "staying with" the subject's
description. In doing so, one becomes ever more open to what is being communicated.

2In Chapter 8 in this volume, Churchill presents different models for the presentation of empirical exis-
tential-phenomenological research results.
JSee Chapters I and 2, by von Eckartsberg, in this volume.
 66 scon D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

Heidegger (1962) has written that "listening to ... is [our] existential way of Being-open"
in our concernful and understanding presence toward others (p. 206). In listening to some-
one's self-expression, "a co-state-of-mind gets 'shared'" (p. 205) in which "we proximally
understand what is said, or-to put it more exactly-we are already with him, in advance,
alongside the [experience] which the discourse is about" (p. 207). By means of this
resonating attunement, one begins to understand the other's position within the situation
described.
Far from being some kind of cerebral attitude, this empathy is fully lived through one's
body. Husserl (1989, p. 176) writes: "In order to establish a mutual relationship between
myself and an other, in order to communicate something to him, a Bodily relation ... must
be instituted." The ideal bodily relation here would be the face-to-face encounter, but in
principle one can institute a bodily relation to the other even if this relation remains one-
sided, as in the case of reading self-report data or listening to a recorded interview. What is
essential is that the researcher be capable of "co-performing" the subject's intentional acts:
"In empathy I participate in the other's positing" (Husserl, p. 177). To ''posit'' is to take a
stand in relation to something, to "position" oneself in such a way as to illuminate certain
meanings within one's situation. Thus, in empathy I participate in the others positioning
himself or herselffrom a unique perspective within a situation. Husserl (1989) described
this as "trading places." In empathy, while maintaining one's own position as researcher,
one gradually allows oneself to feel one's way into the other's experience. A heightened
sense of critical awareness accompanies this act so as to avoid any jumping to conclusions
regarding the other's experience. In this manner, the researcher can begin to acquaint him-
self or herself with the "essence" of the experience described by the subject.

2. Concentrated Focusing and Disciplined Fascination

When one allows oneself to "dwell" with an experienced situation, details become mag-
nified, as there are fewer distractions on the periphery of one's consciousness. The concen-
trated focusing of the phenomenological attitude allows one to marvel at what lies closest. In
this attitude, the researcher is free to "seek the leisure of tarrying observantly" (Heidegger,
1962, p. 216). In the employment of intense interest, the researcher listens to every nuance
of a subject's self-presentation with the aim of sensing possible significations. Single words
or phrases open up constellations of meaning. This is perhaps best described as a kind of
fascination. As one becomes more and more absorbed in the world of the subject, there
is a loosening of the hold on one's own world; the researcher thus begins to "inhabit" the ex-
istential field of the subject. In being spellbound by the other's self-presentation, one be-
comes attentive to various imaginable (as well as self-evident) meanings of that presentation.
The imagined meanings are not groundless, but rather erupt out of the "bodily felt sense"
(Shapiro, 1985) that emerges when one is fascinated. To quote Wertz (1985, p. 174): "When
we stop and linger with something, it secretes its sense and its full significance becomes
magnified or amplified. What to the subject was a little thing becomes a big deal to the re-
searcher, who hereby transcends the mundanity of the subject's situation. The slightest de-
tails of the subject's world become large in importance for the researcher." The most
important realization of the phenomenological researcher is that what the subject presents
are not "brute facts" but dynamic meanings that are haloed with intentions.
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 67

3. Thematizing Meanings
The way that a person acts in a situation or expresses his or her understanding of an
experience typically reveals (even if only implicitly) that the person believes his or her ac-
tions, perceptions, or feelings to be reflections of the way things "really are." This is what
phenomenologists call "the natural attitude"-the belief that the world "really is" the way
it appears. In the phenomenological attitude, there is a suspension of this belief. In its
place, a different belief comes into play-a belief that experienced meanings are the cor-
relative of particular attitudes that are assumed wittingly or unwittingly by the research
subject. There is a turning, then, from "given facts" to "intended meanings"-from the
simple "givenness" of the situation in the subject's experience to a reflective apprehension
of that situation's meaning as constituted by the subject's consciousness. "What had hith-
erto been simply accepted as 'obvious' ... is now recognized as a performance of con-
sciousness and subjected to analysis" (Natanson, 1973, p. 59 [emphasis added]). Here we
are interested in understanding the intentionality of human conduct-not its "causes" or
"contingencies," but rather its concerns and contexts. This requires the cultivation of a sen-
sitivity to meaning.

4. Attending to the Motivational Context of Experience

In particular, the researchers were trained to look for project-horizons within human
experience (Churchill, 1986). Drawing from Sartre's (1956, pp. 557-575) paradigm for an
existential psychoanalysis, one looks for the more general "life projects" that underlie a
given "situational project." Sometimes the underlying motives or interests are so implicit
that one must engage in what is clearly an act of interpretation in order to bring these hori-
zons to light (e.g., see Churchill, 1997, in press). At other times, as in the protocol presented
below, an essential life project is stated "up-front" by the research subject; in such cases, at-
tending to the individual's project-horizons simply means paying attention to the relation of
a particular moment of the subject's experience to self-revealing material expressed else-
where in the data. Concretely, for each meaning unit, the researcher poses this question to
the data: What is the subject's "project" here? What is the "in-order-to" motive (Schutz,
1967, pp. 86-91) that helps us to understand what the subject is up to? The researcher must
also be on the lookout here for self-deception in the subject's account of his or her experi-
ence, which might be described as a project to disclaim one's agency within a situation (see
Churchill, 1987, 1991b).

Data Analyzed by All Three Researchers

The following protocol was obtained from a college student who was a member of a
campus support group for victims of sexual assault. She was asked to provide a written de-
scription of any recent sexual experience in as much detail as she could remember. The aim
of the original study (Lowery, 1991) was to investigate the woman's current sexual life, with
an interest in understanding how her past might still be "present." (Material obtained from
the subject in a follow-up interview aimed at clarifying the original protocol is included in
brackets.)
68 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

When I think of the term "sexual experience," I think of a sexual mingling among or between
a male and a female. Such an experience ought to be shared and reciprocal, but this has not been
the case in many of my sexual experiences. I feel like something is missing, forgotten, or lost in the
whole affair and that I am the outsider searching for an entrance back in.
One time I met someone at a nearby function. We talked for a while, and then he asked me
for my phone number so that we could "get together some time." I didn't think much of it at the
time. He seemed like a nice person, so I consented and gave him my phone number. He began to
call me several times a day for about a week. I was elated this entire week, walking on cloud nine.
I felt that I had finally found someone who had taken an interest in me. [I hadn't dated anyone in a
long time. It had been so long since someone was interested in me. He paid attention to me. But, he
only talked about himself He kept calling. He was persistent.]
We talked for hours on the phone, and he seemed genuine and sincere. He was open and told
me things about himself and his past that I considered to be personal-things that I myself wouldn't
share with anyone until I knew them for a long time and felt comfortable sharing such intimate and
personal experiences with. We seemed to get along great. I began to feel like there actually might
be something in this relationship that may last for awhile.
Then one evening he asked me ifhe could see me. I had only seen him once and was excited
to see him again. I thought that he wanted to take me out somewhere on a date, but he said that he
just wanted to come over and spend some time with me. This was fine with me. I figured that he
would take me out some other time. I hung up the phone and hurried to get ready. Although we
were not going anywhere special, I wanted to look nice for him. I wanted to impress him so that he
would like me. I got the impression over the phone that he liked me, but I wanted him to like not
only my voice and how I talked over the phone, but also how I looked. [When I first met him, we
saw each other. I was wondering if he remembered what I looked like. Looks are important. I
wanted to keep his interest. I wanted to make him see that I was a person, too. I wanted to make a
good impression.]
My heart raced the entire time I was getting ready while thoughts ofthe evening filled my
mind: We would talk as we did over the telephone and get to know each other better and everything
would just be really special. As I sat down to calm my nerves, there was a knock on the door. I
opened it up and there he stood, looking better than I remembered. He stretched out his arms and I
gave him a big hug. It was as if we were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years. I felt warm
being in his arms and almost loved-although I knew it was way too early to classify our relation-
ship as "love." [It was a feeling like I was secure. But I knew that I wasn't supposed to feel that way
because I hardly knew him.]
He came in and sat down and I got a burst of nervousness again. Suddenly, I didn't know what
to say or how to act. [It felt like I knew something was going to happen that I didn't want to happen.
I didn't know how to act. I didn't know what to say. It was like the real me was gone. I couldn't open
up. I couldn't be who I was.] I kept telling myself to be myself and act naturally, like I had been both
over the phone and the rrrst time we met. I figured that I had nothing at all to lose. [I wasn't so at-
tached right now, so if it didn't work out I wouldn't be devastated because I hardly knew him. Actu-
ally, he hardly knew me.] Although I thought that a relationship may evolve from this, it was still
early enough so that ifI really screwed up I wouldn't get hurt. But I did.
The conversation ended before it started, and suddenly I found us kissing each other, which
was fine with me. Soon he picked me up and carried me over to my bed, where we continued to kiss
each other. I tried not to let him pick me up by trying to hold my ground on the floor, but I gave in.
It was inevitable. I did not want to be on the bed, as I knew it would lead to more than just kissing.
I felt uncomfortable on the bed. His hands began to wander all over my body and I kept pushing
them away. I wanted for him to like me, but I did not want to be put in this position where I felt ob-
ligated to succumb to his desires. I was satisfied just kissing with him. Why wasn't he? What did
he want from me? It became obvious that he wanted to do more than just kiss, but how much fur-
ther? I knew that there was no way that I was going to have sex with him. I didn't want to. It would
not mean anything to me. I didn't want to have a sexual relationship with him, I wanted a mean-
ingful one. Sex at this time in our relationship would not mean anything to me because I did not
care for him in a sexual way. I did not want to share this part of me with him until I was ready ...
until I said so, not him. But still, I wanted for him to like me because there was a feasible relation-
ship in the future ... a relationship where I could feel safe and secure. I liked him a lot except for
the fact that he was trying to force me to do more than I wanted to do.
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 69

THREE STYLES OF ANALYSIS

Following are excerpts from each researcher's analysis of the data presented above.
Statements pertaining to each researcher's approach to the analysis, as well as any particu-
lar questions or interests that were addressed to the data, are presented first so that the
reader will have an idea of the perspective that was constitutive of each researcher's pres-
ence to the data.

Researcher 1: Julie Lowery

Research Question
The research question is: What is the lived meaning of a date rape victim's/survivor's
sexuality? That is, the researcher wants to understand how date rape victims/survivors live
their sexual bodies and how they personally understand their sexuality. Two subjects, each
a victim/survivor of date rape, were asked to describe in a written protocol any recent sex-
ual experience in as much detail as they could remember. Both subjects chose to describe
negative sexual experiences. Although the facticities of their descriptions were different,
there were common themes between the two protocols, comprising the essential character-
istics of the phenomenon according to the researcher.

Researcher's Approach
The researcher adopts a phenomenological approach as her fundamental viewpoint to-
ward human experience. A phenomenological approach to the research question here-
namely, "What is the lived meaning of a date rape victim's/survivor's sexuality?"--opens a
variety of thematic horizons to shed light upon the phenomenon. By asking what is the inten-
tionality of the subject's sexual experience, the researcher can illuminate the meaning of the
research subject's actions. Sexuality is ambiguous, for the touched is also touching. Because
the phenomenological approach asserts that experience is a legitimate ground for knowledge,
the researcher can allow for the ambiguity of the subject's sexual experience and arrive at an
understanding of her as a human being in the life-world. In reading and reflecting on the pro-
tocol, the researcher asked herself: What is the subject's existential ''project'' with regard to
her relationships with men, and how do her intentional acts manifest this project?

Results
There are six themes common to both the protocol presented above and a second pro-
tocol included in my original research (Lowery, 1991). Although the focus of this chapter is
on the reliability of the empirical existential-phenomenological method, it is worth noting
that the results of the analysis of the protocol presented above have been cross-validated
with the results of another set of data. Although the themes are discussed separately below,
they are not independent of each other. Just as meaning units can be viewed as "interrelated
scenes," these themes are also interrelated. To illustrate each theme, the researcher tried to
include the best example from the protocol; however, the themes necessarily stem from the
entire protocol.
70 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL ET AL

Detachment. Allison became detached from her body once her acquaintance with the man in
her description moved from verbal contact to physical contact. When her relationship with the other
was basically a telephone relationship, Allison was aware of her body: She felt her heart racing and
felt a need to calm her nerves as she was getting ready to see him for the first time since they had
met. When he came over, she gave him a hug and felt "warm being in his arms and almost loved,"
but she discounts her feelings by saying, "But I knew that I wasn't supposed to feel that way...."
Allison stated, "The conversation ended before it started, and suddenly I found us kissing each
other...." She "finds" her body engaged in sexual behavior. There is no "moment" before the phys-
ical contact: Allison does not "actively" experience that first moment of being touched, but simply
discovers that she has "been" touched. In her experience, the touched is not touching; that is, there
is no bodily reciprocity.
Ambivalence. Allison is ambivalent about her sexuality. In one sense, she presents herself as
an object of desire to be seen, but in another sense, she does not want to be an object of desire to
be touched. Allison stated, "Although we were not going anywhere special, I wanted to look nice
for him. I wanted to impress him so that he would like me .... I wanted to keep his interest. I
wanted to make him see that I was a person too." In order to make a "good impression," Allison
feels that she must make herself into a desirable object to be looked at. She had stated about the
telephone conversation that "he only talked about himself." She was missing from the conversa-
tion. In order for him to see her, she must make herself into an object of desire to be looked at.
Only if she makes herself into such a desirable object will he be able to see her as a person, too.
However, Allison states, "His hands began to wander all over my body and I kept pushing them
away." She wanted to be seen but not touched. She states, "I did not want to share this part of me
with him until I was ready ... until I said so, not him. But still, I wanted for him to like me be-
cause there was a feasible relationship in the future." Allison wanted him to like her in order to
have a relationship in the future. Her ambivalence in this situation is clear in the "but still." Even
though he was forcing her to do more than she wanted to do, she wanted that feasible relationship
with him. "I liked him a lot except for the fact that he was trying to force me to do more than I
wanted to do."
Fatalism. Allison sees her unwanted sexual experiences as something "inevitable." Within Al-
lison's horizon of having been date raped and having had many sexual experiences that were not
shared and reciprocal, Allison understands forced sexual experiences as being inevitable. When the
man began pushing for more sexual behavior th!lO she wanted to engage in, she did not say no."
Rather, Allison resigned herself to the other's sexual aims. She states, "Soon he picked me up and
carried me over to my bed, where we continued to kiss each other. I tried not to let him pick me up
by trying to hold my ground on the #oor, but I gave in. It was inevitable. I did not want to be on the
bed, as I knew it would lead to more than just kissing." Allison did not want to engage in sexual
behavior beyond kissing, but she never told him that; she never said "no." Allison did not want to
be on the bed since she "knew it would lead to more than just kissing," but she gave in. "More than
just kissing" was inevitable, so she never told him ''no.''
Passivity. In a metaphorical sense, Allison became a corpse, an objectified body without
a will or voice. On the one hand, becoming lifeless and passive resolves the ambivalence about
resigning to the sexual aim of the other or stopping unwanted sexual behavior. On the other
hand, as a date rape victim/survivor, Allison has said "no" to unwanted sexual intercourse, and
that "no" was discounted by the other. Allison has become an object of desire whose lack of
choice or efficacy in the past serves as a context for her "choice" in the current situation not
to say ''no'' to what appears to her as "inevitable" unwanted sex. It is as if she has lost her will
and her voice, and in these one-sided sexual experiences, she intentionally becomes passive and
lifeless in order to bear "the inevitable." Allison states that she has had many sexual experiences
that were not "shared and reciprocal." She states, "I feel like something is missing, forgotten, or
lost in the whole affair and that I am an outsider searching for an entrance back in." When
something is not reciprocal, it is one-sided. What is missing in Allison's unwanted sexual
experiences is her will. She is an outsider who is intentionally not present during the sexual
encounter.
Intentionality. Allison understands her sexuality as something she must give to the other in
order to get a relationship. She does not seek men with which to have sexual intercourse in order
to "trap" them into relationships; however when an acquaintance "pushes" for more sexual behav-
ior than she wants to engage in, she feels that she must engage in sex in order for a relationship to
evolve. This theme further illustrates the previous theme in which Allison becomes passive and life-
less during sexual acts. By becoming corpse-like, she can resolve the ambiguity of not wanting to
engage in sexual behavior, while conceding that she must do so in order to attain a desired rela-
tionship. Allison states, "I wanted for him to like me, but I did not want to be put in this position
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 71

where I felt obligated to succumb to his desires." Further she states, "I didn't want to have a sexual
relationship with him, I wanted a meaningful one." In order for him to like her, Allison makes her-
self into an object for him to look at and feels put in a position of indebtedness, a position in which
she must die a metaphorical death of her will and resign herself to unwanted sexual behavior. In or-
der to resolve the ambiguity of the situation, of not wanting a sexual relationship yet feeling oblig-
ated to have sex in order to have a relationship at all, Allison intentionally becomes an object.
Allison describes this feasible relationship as being one in which she could "feel safe and secure,"
yet this relationship would be with someone who was forcing her to engage in sexual activity. Alli-
son's desperate search for a relationship seems to have nothing to do with the present moment or
the man himself. She will sacrifice that safety and security as well as herself in order to have a
relationship.
Repetitive Behavior. The experience that Allison describes, in which she has engaged in un-
wanted sexual behavior in order to attain a desired relationship, is not a one-time occurrence. In-
terviews with the subject have revealed that her behavior is repetitive, and this leads the researcher
to understand that the themes presented above transcend their reference to the specific situation
described and address the more overarching question concerning the lived meaning of a date rape
victim'slsurvivor's sexuality. Allison states that a sexual experience ought to be something "shared
and reciprocal, but this has not been the case in many of my sexual experiences." Allison's expec-
tation that having unwanted sex is inevitable is understandable in light of her previous experience
of date rape, as well as her unshared and unreciprocal sexual experiences.

Researcher 2: Owen McNally

Researcher's Approach
In this study, I will examine a transcript of a woman who concretely experiences the
laborious process of defining herself as a sexual person with a capacity for agency, in
order to explicate the implicit meanings contained therein. Specifically, I seek to under-
stand how her sense of agency and autonomy, versus a sense of passivity and objectifi-
cation, corresponds to her defining what is for her a meaningful psychosexual relating to
the "other."
The phenomenological way of doing empirical research embraces several distinct but
interrelated component activities that concretize the theoretical insights of existential-phe-
nomenological psychology and distinguish it as a "human" (as opposed to "natural") sci-
ence. According to Churchill (l99Ia), there are three primary steps:
I. In diametrical opposition to the objectivistic rationalism of traditional Cartesian
science, the phenomenologist instead enters into a sensitive and profound (but not wholly
contiguous) relationship with the subject, seeking to understand him or her on the subject's
own terms, a process known as empathy or empathic dwelling.
2. In doing so, the researcher is attentive to the subtleties of the lived description and
of the nuances of meaning it contains. The details of the subject's experience are dwelt upon
intensely as the researcher focuses attention upon the array of significances.
3. The researcher then steps back from the data and reflects upon it, employing that
hallmark of phenomenology known as the epoche. What occurs here is the suspension of
the "natural attitude" (or the basic, naive belief that the world is as it seems to us) and a shift
of perspective whereby the researcher holds in check his or her own preconceptions, inter-
pretive structures, and biases, and makes the crucial distinction between the objective
events and the subject's experience, keeping in mind that, psychologically speaking, "per-
ception defines one's reality." One is not really interested in the abstract notion of what re-
ally might have happened in a situation; rather, one thinks about the reality of the lived
event and the meanings that arise from having experienced it.
72 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

Analysis
The protocol of concern here is the description of an experience of a date by a young woman
who was asked by a researcher to describe a recent sexual experience. She describes how she meets
a young man who begins to call her and comes over one evening (all with her consent). They begin
to kiss, and soon he attempts to escalate the sexual intimacy, while she is unhappy about this. "Fac-
tually," this is probably all that occurred (that we know of, at least). What is worthy of analysis are
the meanings involved.
She begins her description with a definition of what a sexual experience is for her, describing
it as a heterosexual event that is ideally "shared and reciprocal." However, this ideal is not realized
in many of her encounters. She explains this further by noting that "something is missing, forgot-
ten, or lost in the whole affair," adding that "I am the outsider searching for an entrance back in."
Right at the outset, she describes the real in terms of the ideal. The research question inquired
specifically about a recent sexual experience. She complies, but not before orientating her descrip-
tion in relation to a project, which consists of a mutual and co-created dynamic. Thus, we are im-
mediately presented with a revelation about her emotional life, before the requested data are
proffered. When she thinks of a recent sexual encounter (or at least is asked to reveal the contents
of her introspection about the experience), she does so in relation to a sometimes unfulfilled need
to have the physical intimacy occur in a context of reciprocity and agency expressed by both part-
ners. For her, the question of sex immediately raises the issue of how she will be able to actively
participate in the event. Her experience of sexual interplay is defined initially as a function of the
extent to which she (as well as the "other") can share and reciprocate.
By contrasting the ideal sexual event against what for her is often a very different reality, we
are at the very beginning aware of her dissatisfaction with many sexual events in her life, and of her
desire to realize the desired mutuality and reciprocity. She informs us of her intentionality realized
as project-consciousness by contextualizing the data soon to be provided in terms of that project.
Before we can access the data she was asked to provide, we are to understand her as "searching for
an entrance back in." The sexual experience is "spun" as a concrete instance of her alienated and
rather peripatetic status.
At this point, one immediately homes in on the implication of her initial statements: What is
missing, forgotten, or lost for her? What inside is she outside of'? At this point, a clearer focusing
of the research question is appropriate and necessary. What is of concern here is how a sense of her
activity/passivity structures her experience of sex as a meaningful mode of experience. Approach-
ing the data with this question in mind, 1 could begin to effectively illuminate the implicit meanings
of the protocol.
She has defined her project as a movement toward a coequal, reciprocal sexual relationship.
We know that many of her sexual encounters lack some crucial element. What apparently is lack-
ing in these situations is some sense of agency on either her part or the part of the "other." Ifher en-
counters fall short of her project goal, then the sharedness, mutuality, and/or reciprocity is what is
lacking. Thus, the question of her activity/passivity comes into play. Perhaps the problem for her is
an inability to act in sexual situations. The other immediately obvious possibility would be that the
"other" is unable or unwilling to reciprocate or share. Certainly, the capacity for agency is at least
of penultimate concern. Regardless of whether or not passivity/agency is the definitive, core issue
behind the disparity between what her project aims for (e.g., mutuality) and what she says she of-
ten experiences (the feeling of incompleteness, alienation, and so on), we cannot understand her
project divorced from the aforementioned question regarding agency or a lack thereof. At this
point, it would be tempting to posit one or the other of the above possibilities (she or the "other" be-
ing deficient in providing the reciprocal character), but at this point very little is actually known
(though that is indeed important and interesting).
Returning to the protocol: She has met someone at a nearby function who asks for her phone
number for a future date. She finds him to be a "nice person," and she agrees, though she notes that
it seemed insignificant at this time. This prosaic description of an event "I didn't think much of ...
at the time" is nevertheless revealing to the phenomenologist. Her tone of (relative) disinterest re-
inforces the sense of his agency predominating in a nonetheless mutual event. They talk, he makes
a move to which she responds. Her description downplays her agency. The overall impression is
vaguely positive, and more so in the light of her just previous description of the profound inade-
quacy of many of her erotic encounters.
He begins to call her, "several times a day for about a week." Her response is euphoric; she
feels that she has finally found someone who has taken an interest in her (which, she notes, has
not happened for some time). The felicitude she expressed as a result of this attention sounds some-
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 73

what discontinuous when compared with the previous lack of enthusiasm for his attentions. Perhaps
she is warming up now that his interest in her is at least so solid as to require him to follow through
with his initial attention, but the contrast in tone certainly seems to conflict with her earlier
description.
Upon returning to the protocol, this disparity is not resolved, given another apparent paradox:
He pays attention to her and yet only talks about himself. She passively enjoys his activity toward
her, but frets at its reflexive character. This can be understood as a threat to her project, the possi-
bility of which otherwise was in the process of being nicely reinforced. Her tone has been very pos-
itive as she basks in the warmth of his attention, but a brief phrase of doubt occurs when she
mentions that he speaks only of himself. This would lend weight to the interpretation that what is
missing for her in her sexual relationships is the other's reciprocal response. She senses the possi-
bility that he will not provide this, and the change of tone may reflect the correlative lessening of
her project's attainment.
Interestingly, the striking positivity of her response to his phone calls is accompanied by a
sense of passivity: "I was elated" (which would literally mean she was ''picked up"). While she has
been decidedly nonaggressive and passive, she explains her happiness due to her finding someone
who would take an interest in her. Here we see signs that there is a reciprocal relationship possible,
that her project may be accomplished. Thus, she maintains an active complementarity in regard to
his activity, but only her feelings have been active.
She goes on to mention his persistent calls and the great length of time they spend on the
phone (talking about him?). She tells us that he reveals things about himself she considers personal
and too intimate to reveal to anyone except someone known for a long time with whom she was
quite comfortable. This can be interpreted as reinforcing her project (perhaps he feels the same way
about such things). Again, her passivity occurs in the context of a positive appraisal of his activity.
She then expresses the situation in terms of their mutual reciprocal activity: "We seemed to get
along great." It is at this point that she tells us she takes seriously the prospect of her project's real-
ization. She already refers to it as a "relationship." Except for the very brief mention of the actual
content of his talking (and with no explicit articulation of how that is significant), she has con-
structed in her protocol thus far the implication that she may be on the verge of having the reci-
procity-mutuality component of what, according to her, would be necessary to have the ideal
sexual experience.
He then requests an opportunity to see her. Having seen him only during their initial en-
counter, she says she "was excited to see him again." She thought that this meant a date, but he just
wanted to come over to her home for a visit. She sounds slightly disappointed despite her glib
"This was fine with me." She figures the date will happen another time. A date would have best
dovetailed with the means by which the "relationship" had progressed (according to her criterion)
to the level it had; that is, he would initiate their mutuality. His dropping by leaves her without the
aforementioned goal of mutuality established as it might otherwise have been in a date situation.
As she prepares for the evening, she attempts to amplify her physical attractiveness because
she wants to impress him so that he will like her. Their phone conversations had hinted at this, but
she wanted him to like not only her voice but her looks. Her agency occurs in the context of his, and
has his agency as its raison d' etre. Her capacity for action seems to be demarcated by and derives
significance according to his activity. Again she expresses activity and mutuality whenever possi-
ble, noting that at their first encounter they saw each other. She states the importance of appear-
ances immediately after wondering if he remembers her appearance. Her looks are understood as
vital to the continuation of his interest in her. She also wants him to notice her personhood as well.
This implies a certain doubt as to whether this will take place. He is interested in her, perhaps, but
she has yet to be noticed as a person. This implies that the mutuality is on unsteady grounds, but
she does not linger and, instead, sums up her previous description by stating, "I wanted to make a
good impression." She nervously awaits his presence while thinking of how they would talk and get
to know each other better and "everything would just be really special." Even her cognitive acts are
talked about in a detached manner-"thoughts of the evening filled my mind." Again, her activity
is in reference to the mutuality that he prompts. Thus far, the function of her agency is a response
to his.
As he knocks, she feels a sensation of dread, that something would happen against her desires.
She momentarily loses her capacity for activity-nor does she know how to act. The whole au-
thenticity of her being is here called into question: "It was like the real me was gone." She could
neither open up (a fundamental expression of agency) nor even be herself (the very predicate of any
agency). When she opens the door, he is there, appearing better than she recalled. He stretches out
his arms and she responds to his activity by giving him a big hug. Before he confronts her with his
74 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

agency, she seems incapable of any self-referential activity. The sensation of being held by him is
reminiscent of greeting an old friend, and she feels almost loved. This is the high moment for her
in the description. She can reconcile the activity with her need for mutuality, though she can do so
only insofar as he catalyzes the mutuality (which, to be precise, begs the very question of whether
it is indeed mutual). She concedes the prematurity of feeling loved in terms of it being "too early."
She describes it as a feeling of security, though she admits she was aware of not being supposed to
have such feelings because she didn't know him very well. This points to a situation where her feel-
ings no longer match her ideals. If she doesn't know him very well, he will not see her as a person,
nor will a genuinely shared sexual relationship be a possibility for the two of them.
After the hug ends, she again is unable to express her agency. She desires to regain the natu-
ralness of the phone conversations and the initial meeting. She estimates that she has nothing to
lose from this potential "relationship failing" and that at this stage, if she "screwed up," she would
not suffer emotional damage because of her lack of attachment to him and her not really knowing
him: "Actually, he hardly knew me." This suggests that her feeling of "almost being loved" is less
than genuine. She seems to recognize that what is lacking here is the more authentic context for
physical intimacy that she in principle would like to experience.
Their talking "ended before it started." This is a mutual experience, but not an active one. She
suddenly "found us kissing each other, which was fine with me." This is an outright hiding from her
activity, cloaked in passivity. This activity violates her ideal standards, and thus she shies away from
it. This statement goes a long way toward explaining what she feels she lacks in sexual experience.
She refuses to acknowledge her agency, which at most is tentative and responsive to that of the
"other's" when she participates in the erotic intimacy of kissing.
Kissing is acceptable until he picks her up and carries her to the bed, which she is uncomfort-
able with, as she knows that it will lead to more. Instead of actively resisting his move toward the
bed, she tries to "hold my ground on the floor." She could have presumably made him stop another
way, but all she could do was to try to hold her ground. She gives in to his agency, and she describes
it as inevitable. She is a passive recipient of his activity. The most she can do in this situation is push
his hands away. The mutuality has disintegrated, and now they have warring projects. One of the
most revealing phrases states how she wants him to like her, but "I did not want to be put in this po-
sition where I felt obligated to succumb to his desires." His agency is a given, but hers is frail. This
statement exemplifies her dilemma. The most she can do is to feebly resist now because she other-
wise is backed into a corner if events continue. She was never able to truly act beforehand, and now
fights hard to not let his project overwhelm hers.
This leads to a bewildered, almost "battle-weary" inability to deal decisively with the situa-
tion: "What did he want from meT' "How much further?" She knows what she does not want, but
cannot or will not make a definitive move to rectify the situation accordingly.
She ends the protocol as she began it, by defining what sex is for her. She wants a meaningful
relationship with him, to which sex now would be anathema. Sex now is out of the question, it
would be meaningless to her. She must assert her own desire for it and not merely go along with
his. She still wants him to like her and can still see the relationship she was hoping for, "a relation-
ship where I could feel safe and secure." Her project is defined again as passivity. She is uncom-
fortable with her agency. She must at times assert it, but she prefers to let the "other" provide it. She
concludes by noting that she likes him, except for his trying to force her into greater sexual inti-
macy than she wanted.
Her inability to act does not present obvious problems at the onset. When presented with the
strong agency of the "other," she remains passive but attempts to compensate by referencing what
occurs as mutual. In the protocol, the most positive language is used when the situation putatively
consists of mutual, reciprocal activity. But her languaging of these activities as mutual does not
make them so. She has a project and attempts to interpret her rather passive responses to the initi-
ations of the "other's" as shared activity. She does not have to confront her lack of agency until their
projects become mutually exclusive. Here, sex for her lacks meaning because she cannot initiate it.
She nowhere possesses a sense of actively apprehending the situation and altering it according to
project. At most, she defends (responds to attack) her project.
Her alienation stems from her lack of agency. In order for such a project as hers to be con-
cretized, a passive response to the projects of the male "other" is not sufficient. She does not real-
ize her own lack of agency and thus is at a loss in dealing with the demands of psychosexual
politics. Because she can interpret her passivity as mutual activity, she does not confront the quite
different projects of the male "other," which in the short term tends to revolve around immediate,
sometimes indiscriminate sexual gratification more than it does meaningful, mutual, reciprocal,
and shared sexual experience.
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 75

Researcher 3: Aruna Rao

Researcher's Approach
Embedded within any sexual experience lies the awakening of the self to the other. It
is precisely this awakening that marks the onset of the journey upon which each individual
will embark. To embark upon a journey means to choose a destination and a means of
reaching it. In making the analogy between a sexual experience and a journey, I am ac-
knowledging that experience, sexual or other, is not suspended in time devoid oflife and an-
imation, but rather is situated within one's past as lived in the present with the future in
view. Hence, in my analysis I will employ an encompassing existential perspective through
which the full potential of the data can be realized with regard to the subject's intentional-
ity and her existence in the world (see also Rao, 1992).

Researcher's Questions Posed to the Data

How is sexual intimacy used as a vehicle, whether passively, willingly, or unintention-
ally, to begin the search for finding the person who will yield a full blossoming relationship?
How does this individual prepare for the journey and what are the means she will employ in
reaching it? Does her body become the means, and union with another her destiny? More-
over, how can one understand a sexual experience, in light of an understanding of the body-
subject as a sexual being with many projects, meanings, perceptions, and intentionalities?
To the extent that phenomenological inquiry takes one back to the lived world of experi-
ence, it is essential to understand the psychological presence of the subject to the phenome-
non described. In other words, it is essential that my understanding of the description emanate
from an empathic presence to the experience as described by the subject. In order to "hear"
the data speak, one must lend an empathic ear. Pursuing the data by way of a noetic-noematic
analysis allows one to bracket and consequently abandon all preconceived notions of the phe-
nomenon researched, facilitating a fresh approach to the data. With this being the point of de-
parture, I read the protocol as one coherent piece of narration. Then I posed this question:
How does the protocol reveal the intentionality of the subject? To make explicit the implicit
intentionalities of the subject, however, also means to realize the sometimes distorted lens
through which the subject tells her tale. One must render oneself free from the natural attitude
and come to embrace expressions and narratives as events that are full of personal mean-
ings-keeping in mind, however, that the way the world appears is always colored and ani-
mated by a unique presence to it. Thus, the researcher should approach the description by
placing herself in a position to understand the kind of presence required to yield the kinds of
statements contained within the protocol. Hence, the researcher must ask, "What type of lens
is the subject perceiving through, such that these particular perceptions are made?"
To pursue this method means to pay great attention to the details of each statement,
which led me to divide the protocol into individual statements or groups of statements,
known as meaning units. From the meaning units, I was able to ascertain a clearer expres-
sion ofthe subject's sexual experience, keeping in mind that the experience as lived and the
experience as recalled were two different realities. In my analysis of the meaning units, I
came across many anticipatory, biographical, and motivational "horizons" that I had been
trained to look for in self-report data.
76 SCOTT D. CHURCHill ET Al.

Thematic Results
Intertwined within the subject's description of a sexual experience is a collage or network of
themes. Each theme depicts the subject's awareness of herself to the other, in the face of a sexual
encounter. Behind the many faces that the subject portrays lie the distinctive characteristics and pat-
terns that contribute to her perceptual understanding of a sexual experience. It is precisely these in-
herent characteristics that I will broadly thematize in order to gain a structured, comprehensive
picture ofthe phenomenon as lived and described by the subject.
Social conventionality. In several areas of the protocol, the subj ect tends to relinquish her
agency to the hands of the other. She notes very early on that a sexual experience is a "sexual min-
gling among or between a male and a female." She allows the male to precede the female in a hier-
archical manner. Later on in the protocol, when the subject states that "he asked me for my phone
number.... ," a shift of agency occurs, where he takes the initiative of asking for her phone num-
ber as well as the responsibility of calling. After the subject's many phone conversations over the
course of one week with him, which were indicative of someone finally taking an interest in her,
she states that "he asked me if he could see me ...." Although the subject was "elated this entire
week, walking on cloud nine," she made no attempt at arranging to meet with him. Soon to follow,
the subject admits, "I thought that he wanted to take me out." The language chosen is of particular
interest, for the subject did not say, "I thought he wanted to go out," or even, "I thought he wanted
to go out with me," but rather, "take me out." This implies that "he" does the active taking and
"she" does the passive going-along. Throughout her protocol the subject expresses her feelings and
actions in a curiously detached way. I realize that the phrases I have cited above may not be idio-
syncrasies of the subject, but rather incidences of colloquial language, yet they serve as an indica-
tion that the subject does buy into the schema of conventionality. Her portrayal of herself as the
yielding woman may originate from the learned constructs of society, which constitute an essen-
tial part of the subject's awareness of herself in relation to the other.
A "relationship project" as an anticipatory horizon. While the subject surrenders her agency
to the other, there occurs a shift from "who she is" to "who she will be." The term "project" makes
reference to the goals or aims that the subject intends to fulfill. Perhaps the most overarching proj-
ect that must be thematized to gain a holistic understanding of the data is the subject's project to en-
ter into a relationship with an other. This particular "horizon" of the subject's intentionality
(namely, her desire to be in a relationship) outweighs any other project, taking precedence even
over her own ability to live out her agency within the immediate situation. The subject forfeits her
agency as a way of arriving at her chosen destiny, a relationship. Several times in the protocol, the
subject prematurely alludes to "having a relationship." For instance, "I began to feel like there
might actually be something in this relationship that may last for a while." At this point in the pro-
tocol, the "relationship" was based on one week of phone conversations, which the subject believed
to be the foundation for a relationship. It is here that the first glimpse of her intentionality is seen.
Soon to follow, the subject states, "I knew it was way too early to classify our relationship as 'love.'''
But because the subject places great emphasis on being in a relationship, I came to understand that
the journey she had embarked upon was prior to this sexual experience, and that her chosen destiny
had always been to enter into a relationship. It was with this frame of mind that the subject entered
into this sexual experience. Her intention to be in a relationship dictated the sexual experience she
described. In other words, the experience as described by the subject is colored with the intention-
ality of ultimately being in a relationship. With this in mind, one can better appreciate the psycho-
logical presence that the subject assumed throughout this particular sexual experience.
Temporality. To speak ofthe subject's temporal awareness means to relate or parallel the se-
quence oftime to the sexual experience that transpired. Because of the subject's enthrallment with
her project, the dimensions of her temporality had become enmeshed with the dimensions of her
experience. Contained within the protocol lies a totalization of temporality, where no such thing as
"early" or "late" exists. The sequence of time and experience has become one entity, void of their
innate boundaries. Thus, the anticipatory project of having a relationship was lived in the present
moment, with the future simultaneously present in the form of her project. It is precisely here that
one sees the past, present, and future informed by the project.
Thefantastic. The subject's description of her sexual experience is laced with many illusion-
ary portrayals. She states that she was "elated ... walking on cloud nine," as though this experience
had somehow transcended all others. Later on she remarks, "It was as if we were old friends who
hadn't seen each other in years." The subject lives out her intentionality behind the mask of the fan-
tastic. She continues to state, "I felt warm being in his arms and almost loved." Once again, the sub-
ject situates herself within an illusionary world that eclipses the reality of the experience, and
perceives through the lens of the fantastic.
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 77

Motivated perceptions. Reading the subject's description through the lens of the phenomeno-
logical epoche, one begins to see "motivated perceptions" revealing a horizon or dimension of the
subject's experience in which she implicitly seeks the fulfillment of an existential interest. In other
words, this "motivated perception" allows the subject to see what she needs to see. The researcher's
interest here is not whether or not she perceives the other "correctly;' but rather what makes her per-
ceptions possible. Her presence to the experience yields her perceptual understanding. For exam-
ple, the subject states, "He paid attention to me." If being "paid attention to" were not of interest to
her, it would be highly improbable that she would ever have made this statement. But because the
subject seeks attention, she sees his attention being given to her. She also states, "We seemed to get
along great." In the process of living out the project of having a relationship, the subject needs to see
the other, in relation to herself, as "getting along." As the subject continues the description, she states
that there "was a feeling like I was secure." In her desire to "feel secure," she perceives that he was
freely giving security. Toward the ending of the protocol, the subject judges that "there was a feasi-
ble relationship in the future ... a relationship where I could feel safe and secure." Such statements
are motivated by a particular interest that needs fulfillment by the other. The subject's needs for at-
tention, security, love, and, most important, a "meaningful relationship" all become motivated per-
ceptions that she seeks out from the other. I do not mean to imply that her perceptions of the other
are inauthentic, but, rather, that each perception is perceived in the interest of fulfilling a need. In or-
der for her to even perceive security, love, and attention from the other, these qualities must exist in
her motivational horizon, or she would have perceived other qualities that needed to be fulfilled.
Thus, it is the need to see a particular quality in the other that motivates the subject's perceptions,
which ultimately make her experience one that is dictated by motivated perceptions.

A Contextualized Account of the Subject's Sexual Experience

In this section of the results, I will rework the subject's description of a sexual experi-
ence in a phenomenological manner in order to gain an all-embracing account of her expe-
rience as lived. (For this purpose, I have given the subject the fictitious name Helen.)
Helen seeks a shared and reciprocated relationship with a man. She laments that many of her past
relationships have not met her expectations. She, a being-in-the-world, has been left out of her own re-
lationships and is in search of a way back in. She is the outsider in her own relationships and can only
peer into them, restrained from touching them. She feels her agency has been somehow stripped away.
Helen meets a man at a place close to home. They engage in a conversation, which Helen re-
gards to be a sign of his taking interest in her. He inquires for her phone number and she obliges,
for she feels safe enough to give him her phone number.
Soon, he begins to call quite frequently. Helen, seeking a relationship, begins to appropriate
her relationship-project with him. She is overwhelmed at the numerous phone calls she receives,
and becomes euphoric at the thought of him actually taking an interest in her. Helen feels that be-
cause he calls often, he must have a genuine interest in her and who she is as a person. She feels
that the phone calls and the extensiveness of the conversations that are taking place are indicative
of him appreciating her for who she "is." In her quest for the attention of a man, Helen perceives
this man to be fulfilling her aim.
Helen believes him to be sincere in his approach. Because she feels that they are getting along
quite well on the phone, the possibilities of having a relationship have increased tremendously. She
believes her project is being reinforced.
One evening he calls her and asks if he can see her. Helen, thrilled with the idea of not only
seeing him but also "going out" with him, readily agrees. She is ecstatic, for she is eager to connect
his voice to his face, to materialize the project. Soon she learns that he would prefer to simply come
over, as opposed to going out. Helen thinks that this idea is also fine, although she secretly would
have liked to be seen with him in the world.
Helen becomes slightly insecure of her appearance, as she believes that pleasing him with
physical beauty is an essential part of the project. She wants to look desirable and be desired. As
Helen proceeds with making herself up, the evening's project fills her mind. She imagines and in-
tends it to be one of physical attraction and wonderful conversation. Helen waits anxiously in the
face of encountering the man who will fulfill her project.
Helen is secretly preparing for a sexual encounter, but due to her past disappointing relation-
ships and her firmly rooted views on the elements of a meaningful relationship, she finds herself to
be faltering.
78 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

In the midst of this confusion, Helen loses her agency and her stance in the world. He comes
to the door and she lets him in. Helen finds him to be physically attractive and proceeds to fill his
outstretched arms with her body. She feels as though they are long-lost friends, perceiving warmth,
security, and a secret feeling oflove. Helen embraces the fulfillment of her project.
Helen is here confronted with both her projects and her passions, which appear to be incongru-
ent. In the face of a situation that calls for a decision, she becomes anxious. The predicament in which
she now fmds herself is manifested bodily insofar as she experiences a loss of composure. In the face
of the very situation for which Helen had meticulously prepared, she finds herself somewhat es-
tranged from her ''true'' self: Helen is keeping her relationship-project in sight, but worries that some-
thing, perhaps she herself, will stifle the progression of it. Helen would like to believe that there is no
attachment to him, but secretly knows that she is attached to the intention of his fulfilling her project.
Soon, Helen finds herself kissing him and is quite appeased. She is peering down from above,
and receives a soothing sort of sensation. In saying that she "found herself" kissing, Helen implies
that her agency in this situation is not one of volitional action but of spontaneous passion. Still,
her action remains in service of her project-to-be-fulfilled.
Helen begins to realize that the kiss is going to lead to "more," and secretly wishes she could al-
low herself to continue, but is confronted both with the question of who she will be afterward and with
the uncertainty as to whether her relationship-project will still be attainable. Helen experiences her-
self as being "picked up and carried" to the bed, and in this moment there is revealed a collapse of her
agency, or at least of her responsibility within the situation. His hands explore her body, and although
Helen pushes them away, she is "unable" to verbally object. At this point, Helen is face-to-face with
both her immediate desires and her overarching project. She is confused. She is unsure of what the
possible outcomes will be, if she does or does not have a sexual encounter. Helen wants a meaning-
ful relationship and is afraid that sex might violate this project. Helen feels pressured by him and her
own desires. She wants to protect her project. Helen finds her body acting without agency. She can-
not decide whether a sexual relation is the way to fulfill the project. Helen is left feeling misconstrued
and confused, but still hanging on to her project and the man who is supposed to fulfill it.

THEMATIC CONVERGENCES AND DIVERGENCES

Given the foregoing three psychological analyses of the lived-meaning of a sexual ex-
perience (as reported by a female college student), our task now is to consider in what ways
the analyses can be seen to converge on a common ground of interpretation, as well as in what
ways each analysis bears the distinctive mark of the analyst. To be sure, the three sets of re-
sults presented above display different emphases; nonetheless, they can be seen to cohere
around a common focus on the ability of the subject to display agency, or the lack thereof.
Lowery's analysis thematizes how the subject experiences psychosomatic alienation,
objectification, and ambivalence as a result of (I) a tension between wanting to be desired
and not to be touched, (2) the inevitability and familiarity of unwanted sexual intimacy, and
(3) a general lived-out detachment from her sexuality. McNally's investigation focuses on
the psychosexual power relations of the subject and her date, and how she is able to refuse
agency (relatively) comfortably, until the sexual-project of the date clashes with her own
relationship-project. Rao's analysis examines how social constructs reinforce the subject's
lack of agency, how the experience of receiving attention prompts a certain unreality, and
especially how her project of wanting a relationship (the "anticipatory horizon") frames her
perception of the event.

Biographical Presence of the Researcher

A striking difference between Lowery's and Rao's analyses stems from the different bi-
ographical contexts within which each approached the data. Lowery, personally acquainted
with the subject (and herself a former victim of date rape), knew that the subject had been
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 79

a previous victim of date rape and was particularly interested in seeing the subject's cur-
rent experience of her sexuality in the light of her previous experience. In addition, the un-
derlying political agenda of her original thesis (Lowery, 1991), from which the data were
taken, shows itself in some of the unique ways she thematizes the subject's experience. For
example, she writes:
In a metaphorical sense, Allison became a corpse, an objectified body without a will or voice.
. . . Allison has become an object of desire whose lack of choice or efficacy in the past serves as a
context for her "choice" in the current situation not to say no to what appears to her as "inevitable"
unwanted sex. It is as if she has lost her will and her voice, and in these one-sided sexual experi-
ences, she intentionally becomes passive and lifeless in order to bear "the inevitable."

In contrast, Rao's subsequent analysis is colored by what Lowery later considered to

be a "romantic tone": Rao thematizes the subject's "passion" (as opposed to inhibition) and
describes the subject as
... thrilled with the idea of not only seeing him but also "going out" with him.... She is ecstatic,
for she is eager to connect his voice to his face, to materialize the project. Soon she learns that he
would prefer to simply come over, as opposed to going out. Helen thinks that this idea is also fine,
although she secretly would have liked to be seen with him in the world.

Later, Rao suggests that as "Helen embraces the fulfillment of her project, ... [she] begins
to realize that the kiss is going to lead to 'more,' and secretly wishes she could allow herself
to continue...."
To Lowery, Rao's account sounded as though the protocol were coming from a virgin
trying to decide whether or not to lose her virginity, rather than from a woman who had
been raped and had had many experiences such as the one described here. This only serves,
however, to underscore the hermeneutical nature of this kind of research: The text is inter-
preted in terms of its context. The background information, to which Lowery was privy and
the others were not, made a difference in the three researchers' interpretations, insofar as
"the 'sedimented' structure of the individual's experience is the condition for the subse-
quent interpretation of all new events and activities" (Schutz, 1962, p. xxviii).
Lowery describes her own interest as "trying to uncover the lived meaning of a date
rape victim's survivor's sexuality" [emphasis added]. Perhaps it is precisely such an "un-
covering" that Rao has accomplished in her own analysis, not influenced by a knowledge
of the subject's earlier experience or by a politicization of her own discourse in light of
feminist concerns, when she sees beneath the veneer of the subject's ambivalence to a se-
cret yearning. On the other hand, her feminist concerns enabled Lowery to explicate the
power issues inherent in the subject's experience that might not otherwise have been un-
covered. Each of these two researchers, in reading and reflecting upon the subject's de-
scription, dramatizes the action according to her own presence to the data. Yet each
dramatization touches upon immanent possibilities that are "visible" within the subject's
experience. Thus, Freud was right when he spoke about the "overdetermination,,4 of be-
havior. The three analyses appear together as different rays of insight intersecting upon a

41n his analysis of Dora, Freud (1963) wrote that "in the world of reality, which I am trying to depict here, a com-
plication of motives, an accumulation and conjunction of mental activities-in a word, overdetermination-is the
rule" (p. 77). The term occurs earlier in the same text in a footnote (p. 47). Other references can be found in
Freud's 1896 paper on the etiology of hysteria (Freud, 1989, p. 108), as well as in his more extensive Case ofthe
Wolf-Man (Freud, 1991, p. 200), written 20 years later. See Moore and Fine (1990, p. 123) for further discussion
of Freud's use of this term.
80 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

common subject, each adumbrating a different sensibility or "immanent possibility of

meaning" as figural against the background of other meanings. Together, they amount to
variations on a theme. Like the reversals of ambiguous figures, each act of interpretation
reveals even as it conceals: The power issue falls into the background, thereby enabling the
romantic motive to come to light-just as the political issue becomes figural against the
backdrop of sexual ambivalence.
Rao's analysis reflects the cultural definition of the female role to which she had been
personally socialized. More specifically, Rao's Indian sensibility regarding the relations of
the sexes leads her to see the profoundly co-constitutive nature of gender interactions and
at the same time to be puzzled by the tendency of American women to disclaim agency in
seeing the male as the sole perpetrator of sexual exploitation. The subject writes: "I felt
warm being in his arms and almost loved-although I knew it was way too early to classify
our relationship as 'love' .... It was a feeling like I was secure." How, asks Rao, can such
statements be coerced? How can one say this, except from one's own volition?
Even if she had been previously date raped, it is clear (to both Lowery and Rao) from
the subject's protocol that she is still seeking male desire and affirmation. Rao therefore be-
lieves that by thematizing this in her analysis, she is not simply being blind to the power
issues inherent in male-female relationships, nor is she over-romanticizing that experience.
Rather she is acknowledging the research subject as a human subject who is capable in prin-
ciple of transcending the limits of her former experiences (see also Churchill, 1993). The
subject's keeping herself open to horizons of interpersonal encounters is precisely what en-
ables her to perceive "warmth ... an almost love ... and security." That which was lacking
in her previous experiences shows itself in the form of desire. After all, does Lacan (1981)
not teach us that desire is fundamentally related to lack? Unfulfilled desire lives on in proj-
ect form until it is met, which, to Rao, only goes to underscore the whole idea that to per-
ceive love is already to understand it, and thereby to "live" this understanding as an
anticipatory horizon. In other words, we do not always "stumble" into situations or experi-
ences; we co-constitute and to some degree direct ourselves toward them. And in directing
ourselves, we get lost, confused, and even misunderstood, but that does not mean we have
been exploited by the other. On the contrary, the "beautiful" thing here is that the subject
surpasses her past date rape experience by allowing herself to be open to the other (see Rao,
1992). And by even attempting to write this protocol, the subject expresses herself in an ar-
ticulate manner, demonstrating the ability to be open to maybe even herself.
Interestingly, McNally's analysis appears to be neutral with regard to both the political
and the romantic interests of the other two researchers, even while he embraces the desire
and power dynamics situated within the subject's experience. He sees the data differently
(perhaps less sympathetically?) than his female colleagues do, in a way that suggests a gen-
der horizon of interpretation coming into play in the three analyses. (Is it a coincidence that
both female researchers gave the subject a name, possibly to ''personify'' the experience and
thereby facilitate a "first person" identification with the female subject, while the male re-
searcher maintains a third person distance, referring to the subject simply as "she"?) Mer-
leau-Ponty (1968) writes in The Visible and the Invisible:

Thus he who speaks (and that which he understands tacitly) always codetennines the meaning
of what he says, the philosopher is always implicated in the problems he poses, and there is no truth
if one does not take into account, in the appraising of every statement, the presence of the philoso-
pher who makes the statement (p. 90).
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 81

[Another] witness ... is not a pure gaze upon pure being any more than I am, because his
views and my own are in advance inserted into a system of partial perspectives, referred to one
same world in which we coexist and where our views intersect (p. 82).
What is given, then, is not the naked thing, the past itself such as it was in its own time, but rather
the thing ready to be seen, pregnant-in principle as well as in fact-with all the visions one can have
of it, the past such as it was one day plus an inexplicable alteration, a strange distance ... (p. 124).

The last part of this quotation expresses a truth not only about the researchers' collective ad-
umbrations or dramatizations of the subject's experience, but also about the subject's own
changing relationship to her past experience. Even if "the 'many knowings' of the 'one phe-
nomenon' never perfectly coincide with each other" (Wertz, 1986, p. 201), they still can be
seen to cohere around a common nucleus of meaning.
Although all three analyses above are distinct and focus on somewhat different con-
cerns, a unifying theme does emerge: The subject does not "own" her sexual experience ac-
tively. All three researchers thematize a vacillation within the subject's experience from
active to passive agency, with passivity emerging precisely at those moments when a deci-
sion is called for on the subject's part. Likewise, all three see her as "disowning" her body-
disconnecting her "self" from her actions when her integrity is at stake. Finally, all three see
that her integrity within the situation is a function of her "relationship project"-her desire
for a sexual experience that is "shared and reciprocal." Perhaps these consistencies among
the three sets of results lend some credence to the claim that human science is indeed sci-
ence, since it appears that an at least somewhat coherent set of themes can be gleaned from
three different interpretive research efforts. Moreover, the findings presented here lend
credibility to the claim that human science is indeed human, insofar as it appears that we
must recognize and affirm that perceptions are always partial, yet never closed in solely
upon themselves. Our picture of reality is never taken one frame at a time, but as a montage
that effectively adumbrates the subject of perception from always varying perspectives.
(Was this not the very point of cubism in painting?) As Wertz (1986) eloquently puts it:
Perceptual consciousness is nothing other than a meaningful perspectival variation and as such
it is the very movement of transcendence through which we genuinely contact something that ex-
ists (p. 191).
In recognizing the intrinsic role of subjective perspectivity in the way reality is "reliably" es-
tablished in life, we are required to give up the goal of absolute or exact coincidence between per-
ception and the thing perceived, language and what is spoken about (p. 193).

Perceptual Adumbration and the Relativity of Interpretation

Existential-phenomenologists, following Heidegger, assert that all description is al-
ready interpretation. Interpretive or "hermeneutical" research involves the seeing (or "re-
trieval") of possible meanings from data. As Laing (1967, p. 62) has observed, it would be
more appropriate to speak of capta here than of data, for the interpretive findings are not
simply "given" but are "captured" or "taken out of a constantly elusive matrix of happen-
ings." As such, possible meanings are revealed as a function of the researcher's questions
and perspective on the data. Research results are no more, and no less, than possibilities of
interpretation of the data. Giorgi (1975, p. 96) writes:
Thus the chief point to be remembered with this type of research is not so much whether
another position with respect to the data could be adopted (this point is granted beforehand) but
whether a reader, adopting the same viewpoints as articulated by the researcher, can also see what
the researcher saw, whether or not he agrees with it. That is the key criterion for qualitative research.
82 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL ET AL.

What typically happens when one reads a phenomenological research report is that
one finds oneself going back and forth between the results and the data, trying to gain a
sense of(1) the insights being offered by the author, (2) the data from which those insights
were generated, and, most important, (3) a sense of the relation between the insights and the
data. The critical moment comes when the reader asks whether the interpretive findings are
indeed inherent within the data. It is also in this moment of contemplative presence to the
research presentation that one finds oneself really learning something from the other's
work. What one learns is not just what others have revealed but also something about how
others see human events psychologically. As Spiegelberg (1982, p. 694) observes, "The
main function of a phenomenological description is to serve as a reliable guide to the lis-
tener's own actual or potential experience of the phenomena."
In both doing and reading interpretive research, it is important to allow ourselves the
time and space to experience the other's presentation. To experience a structure "is to live
it, to take it up, assume it and discover its immanent significance" (Merleau-Ponty, 1962, p.
258). In empathy, one gradually allows oneself to feel one's way into the other's position.
Just as the researcher listens to every nuance ofa subject s self-presentation with the aim of
sensing possible significations, the reader listens to the nuances in a research analysis that
reveal the researcher s own unique presence to the data. (Empathy is thereby involved in
both the "production" and the "consumption" of interpretive research.) Single words or
phrases open up constellations of meaning. It is the researcher's job to facilitate the reader's
understanding by presenting the results in a way that opens the reader to data and to the re-
searcher's movement through those data. The style of such facilitation will always vary from
one researcher to another, but it should at least be a fundamental consideration within any
research endeavor. If the research results are always relative to the researcher's questions
and interpretive frame of reference, then questions regarding the reliability of the interpre-
tive procedure and verification of results must be posed while keeping in mind this charac-
teristic of the interpretive process.

Interpretation and Truth

When we raise the question of verification in interpretive research, we are asking a
question about the experience of truth. Sokolowsi (1974) writes:
Verification, etymologically and in fact, is bringing about truth (p. 233).
If I make a statement and you say you agree, you and I have used our ability to be truthful.
What other people say, and what we ourselves later experience and state, may confirm our truth or
force us to reappraise it; but some truth has been achieved and its claims cannot be disregarded
(p.3).

Concretely, what does it mean to experience a sense of "truth" in the findings communicated
to us by interpretive research? Understood phenomenologically, the meanings expressed in
the culminating description of a piece of interpretive research can be seen to exist "in a
movement of constant relativity of validity" (Gadamer, 1975, p. 218), depending always on
the meaning context or interpretive framework of the individual looking at the data.
Whether one is judging the coherence of a single narrative description or the congru-
ency of two or more narrative descriptions, the question of coherence remains a matter of
personal judgment; reliability thus becomes a second-order question of agreement or "fit"
among observations that are presumed to have achieved a "fit" at the more primary level
RELIABILITY IN INTERPRETIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL RESEARCH 83

with regard to validity. Since no one narrative description can in practice embrace the
"whole" phenomenon, the adequacy of a particular description is judged in view of its lim-
ited grasp of the phenomenon, and so an equivalence of described observations is either
merely coincidental or is established by the perceived "hanging together" (Zusammenhang)
of different descriptions from different viewpoints. 5
One of the problems in establishing the reliability of interpretive methods in the hu-
man sciences is that the researcher is often privy to more data and background information
than can be shared with the reader or judge. (As mentioned earlier, in the case of our three
researchers here, the original researcher knew the subject and was able to interpret the data
from the perspective of what she already understood about the subject's earlier sexual
trauma.) Whether two descriptions or measurements agree is thus a matter of perceiving a
coherence between the two descriptions rather than merely a direct equivalence. A "coher-
ence" criterion for reliability acknowledges the perspectival nature of qualitative descrip-
tion, and therefore does not presume that two valid descriptions will be equivalent, much
less the same. Rather, a coherence among descriptions (i.e., among different perceptions
of the "same" data) asks only that these varying perspectives be able to "fit" together.
The distinction between validity and reliability thus becomes blurred in qualitative re-
search precisely to the extent that, in the process of determining whether or not one set of
findings is congruent with another, one must make one's own assessment of how well, if at
all, the findings have illuminated their target. The two issues are intimately related insofar
as the procedure for assessing the adequacy of the findings is at the same time an assess-
ment of the adequacy of the "measure" used to obtain the findings, namely, the researcher's
perspective on the data. In the end, the value of the findings depends on their ability to help
others gain insight into the ever mysterious realities of human life.

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Wertz, F. 1. (l983a). From everyday to psychological description: Analyzing the moments of a qualitative data
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ing criminally victimized. In A. Giorgi (Ed.), Phenomenology and psychological research (pp. 155-216).
Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press.
Wertz, F. 1. (1986). The question of the reliability of psychological research. Journal ofPhenomenological Psy-
chology. 17, 181-205.
 4

Human Subjectivity
and the Law
of the Threshold
Phenomenological and
Humanistic Perspectives

Bernd Jager

THE WORKADAY WORLD AND THE FESTIVE WORLD

One of the key assumptions of phenomenological psychology is that human consciousness

is structured by an intentional relationship. Human consciousness is openness to a world, in
the same sense that subjectivity is necessarily intersubjectivity and that personhood neces-
sarily implies interpersonality. Our problems in understanding these psychological dimen-
sions are attributable in part to our use of nouns to denote what are essentially actions that
bridge the distance between one person and another or between a person and a thing. Con-
sciousness is not something that can be found among things, not even among the thinglike
bodies described by biology and medicine. Consciousness refers to a fundamental relation-
ship between persons and things, and it is this relationship that forms the basis of our aware-
ness of our world.
This way of understanding consciousness in particular, and human reality as a whole,
is not a recent philosophical or psychological discovery, but represents a way of thinking

Bernd Jager • Department of Psychology, University of Quebec at Montreal, Montreal, Quebec H3C 3P8,
Canada.

87
88 BERND JAGER

that is probably as old as mankind l itself. There is an ancient Greek proverb that says very
simply and directly Aner oudeis aner, meaning, literally, "None without another," or, more
fully, "One single human being, considered in the absence of a relationship to another, is in
fact no human being at all." Being human means standing in a relationship to others, to
things, and to a world. In what follows, we will explore two very different types of rela-
tionships to the world that always occur together and that in their dynamic interplay open
for us a truly human world.
The first attitude opens a world ofwork. It seeks to transform the natural world in such
a way that it conforms more closely to our particular bodily and material needs. In our
Western societies, both technology and the natural sciences developed out of this workaday
need to transform our natural environment and to make it conform to our needs. The central
theme of the workaday world, of technology and the natural sciences, is the transformation
and ultimately the complete appropriation of a natural environment.
The second attitude opens a festive world and cultivates close alliances with human,
divine, and natural beings in such a way that both the self and the other are thereby revealed
to one another. In our Western societies, religious practices, together with the arts, the hu-
manities, poetry, and literature, form together a festive world that is structured around the
fundamental desire to stand in a mutually revealing relationship to a natural, a human, and
a divine world.
The various cultural forms to which these basic two attitudes give rise vary from place
to place. They also vary from time to time and from one situation to another. The world of
work of New Guinean Papuans clearly differs from that of the Bantus in South Africa, and
the festive world of medieval France is not the same as that of modern France. Yet these dif-
ferences, no matter how great or small, do not contradict the fundamental given that all so-
cieties have to a greater or lesser extent recognized and practiced the difference between a
time and a place for work, centered on acquiring life's necessities, and a time and place de-
voted to thanksgiving, to celebration and the festive revelation of the self and the other.
We will later return to this subject for a closer examination of these two fundamental
attitudes. For the moment, however, we want to focus our attention on the mysterious tran-
sition that occurs when we move from a workaday relationship to the world to one that is es-
sentially a festive one.
To study this transition in some detail, we will make use of a thought experiment in
which we follow the thoughts and feelings and behavior of a fictional person as he moves
from a workaday attitude, in which he seeks to understand and mentally appropriate the nat-
ural world, to a festive attitude, in which he seeks a personal manifestation of an other.
We should realize that each of these fundamental attitudes toward our world has its
own inherent possibilities and limits so that neither should be thought of entirely in isola-

II have a particular affection for words such as man and mankind, which express so well what we as human be-
ings are, or at least ought to be. The word "mankind" is made up of two words, "man" and "kind." The word
"kind" relates to "kin" and thus to the entire complex of "race," "species," "family," "relatives," and the like. Thus,
the word "man," as used in this context, has nothing to do with a biological masculinity or femininity, but refers
to all human beings as a whole insofar as they are differentiated from inanimate things by their ability to think.
We use a different form of the same word in German as der Mensch or in Dutch as de mens, always to refer to
human beings without regard to their particular sex. Latin gives us the related form mens, mentis to speak of the
mind. Our concepts of the "mind" and our ideas of what is "mental" spring from the same source that gives us our
generic "man" and "mankind." What these words exclude is not femininity but mindlessness. To exclude oneself
from "mankind" can only mean that one excludes oneself from the realm of thought and of spirit.
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 89

tion from the other. No human culture can prosper, or indeed survive, without some practi-
cal and intellectual understanding of the laws that govern the natural world. But neither can
a human society last for long without learning to cultivate the festive dimension and find-
ing effective ways in which to frame a mutual revelation of what is self and other, of what
is human, natural, and divine being.
All functional cultures possess an understanding of what it means to work and to ap-
propriate natural resources. They all possess also, to one degree or another, an understand-
ing and a practice of festive disclosure in which they witness in celebration the generous,
uncoerced appearance of self and other.

A THOUGHT EXPERIMENT

In seeking to explore the mysterious shift from a workaday to a festive attitude, we will
want to know not only what sets these two fundamental attitudes apart or in what respects
they differ, but also how these attitudes and the worlds they create stand in relationship to
one another, and how together they form a whole. The world of everyday, mundane tasks
and the world of the festive each has its own integrity, its own essential conception of what
is real and important, its own sense of what is fitting and unfitting, of what it is right to do
and of what should be avoided. Moreover, each of these worlds is surrounded by a horizon
that announces the imminent arrival of the other world. While we participate in a festive
gathering, we remain aware that we will have to return to the mundane world of work, and
while we work, we comfort ourselves with the prospect of festive revelations. Only severe
pathology could limit us merely to one perspective and deprive us of a counterbalacing per-
spective of the other.
Let us now turn to a concrete example in which we can study in some detail the expe-
rience of a person at the very moment when he turns from the world of work in which he
had been pursuing his natural scientific interests and begins to shift to a festive attitude in
which he seeks a mutually revealing encounter with an other.
Let us imagine a geologist on a scientific expedition in a very remote and uninhabited
region of the world. Let us imagine him just after he has climbed the last mountain range
to arrive at his planned destination, which is a small plateau overlooking a vast expanse of
barren and uninhabited wasteland. We assume that he has come to study a important geo-
logical feature of this particular landscape that he had discovered while studying a satellite
photograph of the area. At the moment when we begin to take an interest in his work, he al-
ready has behind him a very long journey that began with a flight to the capital of the re-
mote country in which the wasteland is situated and then continued from there, first by car,
then by camel, and finally by foot.
At the point in time when we begin to follow his adventures, he is very near complete
physical exhaustion, and we see him struggle to hoist himself atop a large boulder from
where he can look out upon most of the surrounding landscape. What he sees before him is
an enormous expanse of barren sand and rocks that shows nowhere a sign of animal or even
vegetative life. Such variety as is offered by the landscape is that of countless boulders of
all shapes and sizes that lie strewn over the desert landscape as far as the eye can see. He
finds himself thus completely alone in a world that appears actively hostile to every form
of life.
90 BERND JAGER

In the course of his already long and distinguished career, our geologist has become
used to barren landscapes, and he feels buoyed by the thought of having reached his final
destination after having triumphed over so much adversity. He takes a little food and drink
from his diminishing supply and then pulls out his notebook to begin to sketch out the phys-
ical features of the terrain.
As he surveys his surroundings, the geologist notices ancient traces of what once, sev-
eral millennia ago, must have been a forceful stream running down the mountains and
crossing in a wide sweep the entire length of the valley below. The river not only carved a
still visible path from the mountain down through the valley, but also left behind a trail of
variously sized boulders with rounded and smoothed features that testify to the shaping
power of sand and water.
The geologist observes other, rougher stones that do not bear the mark of flowing wa-
ter and that must have reached their present location by other means. He traces the path of
their descent back to the eroding sides of the mountain, and he can read from their weath-
ered surfaces the corrosive impact of rapid temperature changes combined with that of
water, wind, and sand. Here and there, the combined action of these natural forces has
shaped some of the stones into truly fantastic forms. Sometimes these strangely shaped
stones appear in clusters, some leaning against each other as if embracing or fighting,
others heaped together in bizarre formations that defy description. If an ordinary citizen
were suddenly confronted with this sight, he might guess that he was seeing an intergalac-
tic sculpture garden.
Our geologist is not given to such reveries, and the thought of sculpture is furthest
from his mind. He treats the appearance and the precise location of each stone as a kind of
material archive, containing the record of all the natural forces that have left their imprint
on the landscape since it first came into being. When he sees the rounded form of a boulder
in the desert, he thinks of the forces that brought it there, about those that broke it loose
from the mountain and brought it to its present location, all the while scraping away its
edges and exposing it to a new array of natural forces. He sees the stone as broken loose
from its base, as carried away from where it was, as smoothed and rounded by water, wind,
and sand. He reads the presence of natural forces from what is missing from the stone, from
the fact that it no longer forms part of the mountain, that it no longer appears as jagged and
huge, as it was when it first broke loose, but as smaller and rounder. The presence of the
natural forces is thus entirely identifiable with what the stone is no longer, with what is
missing from it.
Sculpture proceeds on a very different principle. The sculptor also removes parts of a
block of stone, and in this his labor superficially resembles the natural action of heat and
cold, of water, sand, and wind in all their naturally occurring combinations. Yet there re-
mains a profound and unbridgeable difference between the two kinds of actions. The sculp-
tor removes material from the surface of a stone not in a completely accidental way, not as
determined by a pure interplay of physical forces, but as a means of revealing a personal
presence. What is missing stands thus in an active relationship to what is thereby revealed.
It was Michelangelo who pointed out that the sculptor working on a stone can be un-
derstood as gradually revealing a presence, meaningful to him personally, that in retrospect
can be thought of as having been imprisoned in the stone. In this way, sculpting reveals it-
self as essentially different from the simple and mechanical process of erosion, which in ret-
rospect reveals nothing except the simple fact of its own operation. Unlike such simple
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 91

natural action, sculpting can be understood as knocking on the door of an already inhabited
stone in order to bring the inhabitant out of his hiding and into the light of day.
The physical act of artful carving, understood as the revealing of a subjective presence,
cannot take place within the Euclidean space of natural science, but requires an intersub-
jective space in which it becomes possible for one subjectivity to reveal itself to an other.
Artful carving and SCUlpting thus resembles speaking and conversing closer than it does the
process of erosion. It is as erroneous to look upon the essential purpose of sculpting as an
action that removes parts of stones as it is to regard the purpose of speech as that of mov-
ing our lips or that offorcing air outward through our oral or nasal passages. Both speaking
and sculpting serve the same ultimate purpose of cultivating and revealing natural, human,
and divine subjectivity.
As a natural scientist, our geologist would certainly shrug his shoulders at the sugges-
tion that the weathered boulders before him could be seen as art objects. This is not because
the geologist is hard of heart, or lacks artistic sensibilities or cultural refinement, but be-
cause his scientific training and his current mission place him in a culturally constructed,
naturalistic, and workaday frame of mind that for the moment screens out all aesthetic and
subjective experiences as being irrelevant to his present field of vision.
It is not that the geologist is incapable of the latter, but rather that he has learned to set
these experiences aside for the moment in order to pursue his scientific work. His very
training as a scientist permits him to make carefully cultivated distinctions between a
workaday natural scientific landscape and a festive interpersonal one. By dint of much ef-
fort, he has learned to perceive a physical world solely in terms of natural forces, and the
scientific task he seeks to accomplish is one of reconstructing the natural history of a given
geological formation. This natural history is principally and methodically distinguished
from ordinary human history by the fact that it scrupulously avoids every and all reference
to either a natural, a human, or a divine subjectivity. This methodic principle that calls for
the exclusion of subjectivity forms the very basis of natural science, and to transgress it
means to step outside its perimeter and to forsake its explanatory power.
It is important to understand, however, that the geologist practices this methodic ex-
clusion of subjectivity only as long as he is engaged in practicing his discipline. When he
returns from his labors in this distant part of the world, he will be able to embrace his fam-
ily and friends and respond with gladness and affection to their heartfelt welcome. More-
over, even here in this deserted outpost of the world and in the midst of his labors, he would
easily step outside the naturalistic frame of his discipline ifhe heard a child cry out or saw
a person approaching him, or ifhe were distracted from his work by an awe-inspiring sun-
set. While absorbed in his work, he thinks about a world of material forces, but at the fringe
of his consciousness he remains ever ready to welcome a stranger, or to say a prayer, or to
suddenly experience a landscape as radiant or majestic, or to think of the surging mass of a
mountain as expressing grandeur. Only madness could condemn a person to become im-
prisoned in the landscape of geology or in the body of biology. Our essential humanity re-
sides in the fact that we can shift perspectives from the realities of work to those of the
festive, and from those of impersonal forces to those of subjective manifestations.
For the moment, our protagonist is obliged to practice the methodic exclusion of sub-
jectivity that is demanded by his scientific discipline. He thus seeks to reconstruct the nat-
ural history of the landscape without in any way making reference to a human or a divine
person. This methodic exclusion constrains him to write this history without at any time
92 BERND JAGER

making use of personal pronouns. The scientific account of his natural observations there-
fore cannot make use of such attributions as "He created" or "She managed" or "They did."
This methodic exclusion places him, grammatically speaking, in an awkward position,
since the usual construction of ordinary sentences in European languages generally de-
mands that a verb be linked to a subject or to a subject and an object. In order to overcome
this grammatical difficulty, our geologist takes recourse to a subterfuge by using the im-
personal pronoun it. His account will therefore necessarily take the form of "It rained," "It
fell," "It formed," "It froze," "It melted."
We should note here as an aside that the particular perspective of the natural sciences,
which excludes all direct reference to subjectivity and which gives us access to the strange
world in which "it" is the sole source of action, was developed first in the millennia-old dis-
cipline of astronomy. This perspective slowly developed starting from the day when the first
eager amateur looked up at the night sky and began to take note of the orderly changes he
observed in this realm.
In astronomy, the observer faced a realm that was at once clearly visible and observ-
able, but at the same time also entirely beyond the reach of human beings. The astronomi-
cal observer studied a world that could become as familiar to him as the back of his own
hand, but that for all its familiarity would nevertheless remain inaccessible to him.
Natural science always presents us with a natural world that we learn to observe and
get to know in great detail, but from which we nevertheless remain substantially excluded.
We may know the world of physics and chemistry, but we shall never be able to fully make
it our own. Nobody can bathe himself in H20, nobody can dine on chemical compounds or
make love to a biological organism. The world in which my friend Mike becomes a biolog-
ical entity and where a cup of tea becomes a chemical compound is like the starry sky of the
night: We can see it and study it, it may induce us to make marvelous discoveries that in
turn have extraordinary implications for our life on earth, but we can never inhabit it.
It was the first systematic knowledge of the starry sky that gave us the calendar and that
made it possible for mariners to trace a path across the seas. The great scientific revolution of
the modern world took place when we learned to view our familiar earth with eyes that had
been trained to observe the sky and with a mind formed by the study of the unhabitable re-
gions of astronomy. We learned to see the earth as though it were itself an uninhabited planet,
and we learned to set the course of our daily lives guided by the rapidly increasing knowledge
derived from the study of this new planet. But then we began to confuse the planet that we
studied from the perspective of astronomy with the familiar world that we must inhabit. The
era of modernity is profoundly marked by this confusion, and we will not be able to leave it
behind us until we have reestablished the primacy of the intersubjective world of host and
guest. It is only in such a world, founded in hospitality, that we can humanly live and die, love
and pray. And it is only in such a world that we can ever be truly at home.
It is interesting to note how Freud introduced the natural scientific world into the in-
nermost recesses of our being with his second theory of the psychic apparatus. He spoke
here of das Es (the "it") as an unconscious psychic region governed entirely by impersonal
material forces. His English translator, perhaps thinking that to speak of the unconscious in
such a simple term as the "it" might detract from the dignity and the professional image of
psychoanalysis, rendered it in latinized form as the Id. Freud wrote that his use of the term
"it" to describe the unconscious had been inspired by his reading of Georg Groddeck's (1987)
book bearing the German title Das Buch vom Es. which appeared in an English translation
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 93

as The Book of the It (Groddeck, 1961). Freud (1975) continued to use the plain Gennan
tenn das Es till the end of his life (p. 292). He defined that tenn as "an impersonal psychic
entity that unavoidably fonns part of our psychic make-up" (Freud, 1964, pp. 72-75).
Here is not the place to discuss in detail Freud's understanding of what he referred to
as the ''psychic apparatus," or that part of it that he understood as the domain of the "it," ex-
cept to point out that the fundamental attitude within which he analyzed the human mind
and soul had been developed long before his time by Babylonian, Egyptian, and Greek as-
tronomers scanning the starry dome of the night. By adopting their attitude and applying it
to the study of the "psychic apparatus," he transfonned the starry heavens of the early as-
tronomers into the subterranean, dark, and impersonal realm of the human soul.
But let us return to our geologist in his lonely desert outpost, where he continues to
contemplate the land of "it" of the early astronomers in the manner in which he has learned
to project it upon an earthly landscape. Let us assume that there comes for him a moment
when, wearied from his calculations, he allows his eyes to wander a bit aimlessly over the
barren surroundings. Let us suppose that his glance is drawn toward some particular feature
that does not seem to fit in with the rest of the geological landscape and that from that mo-
ment on keeps attracting his attention as a source of difference within the vast expanse of
sameness. The place to which his attention is drawn and from which this difference em-
anates is a strangely regular, geometrically fonned rectangular clearing that is bordered on
all sides by small round boulders of about equal size. On one side of the rectangle, the
geologist notices, is a five-foot-high, pyramid-shaped mound of smaller rocks that appears
to fonn part of the composition.
It is difficult to say which of the many differences from the rest of the landscape was
the one that made it stand out. Was it the regular shape of the small pyramid or the rectan-
gular fonn of the clearing, or was it perhaps the rhythmic pattern of the border, made up of
nearly equal-size round stones carefully laid out in such perfectly straight lines?
No matter how hard he tries, the geologist cannot find a satisfactory place for this par-
ticular configuration within the world of geology. At the end of all his attempts to find a
natural scientific explanation for the phenomenon, he still remains faced by a stubborn and
unresolvable difference that refuses to disappear in the geological landscape of "it."
To say that this particular fonnation does not fit in the landscape of natural science is
not to say that this part of the landscape, on which he is now focused, is not subject to the
identical natural forces that govern the rest. The sun shines on these symmetrically placed
stones as it does on all the others. What sets it apart from the surrounding world of "It
stands," "It falls," "It rains," "It shines" is the fact that it insistently evokes a purposeful and
expressive world of "He built," "She stood," "We live," and "We die." What the geologist
perceives at the outer limit of his neutral, natural scientific landscape is the upsurge of a
very differently constructed inhabited world in which it is possible to express a judgment
and to incorporate a decision. After spending several hours in the uninhabited regions of the
world of natural sciences, the geologist, like his predecessor the astronomer, finds himself
suddenly called back to earth by the presence of another human being. Where only a mo-
ment ago he was lost in the rarefied world of planetary systems, he is suddenly confronted
by a human presence that calls him back to a very different world that demands of him a
radically different manner of approach. His humanity does not reside in his ability to use
one approach or the other, but rather in his capacity to make the shift from one fundamen-
tal perspective to the other. It is precisely madness and loss of our humanity that imprisons
 94 BERND JAGER

us in one attitude or the other and that prevents us from making the shift back and forth be-
tween the world of work and the world of celebration.
The first two letters of the word judgment refer us to the Latinjus, meaning "law" or
"what is right"; the second two refer to the Latin dicere, meaning "saying," "telling," "in-
forming" (Klein, 1971, [see under Judgement]). A judgment speaks to us of a subjective
presence capable of differentiating between what is right and what is wrong and gifted with
the means to make this difference known to us.
The word decision refers us to the Latin verb caedere, which means "to strike down,"
"to cut down," "to beat," or "to cut off." To encounter someone's decision means to enter the
arena of fateful human action, to the place where the Gordian knot is cut, where choices are
made, where one path is pursued instead of another. This arena of fateful choice, of judg-
ing, and of choosing to do one thing rather than another does not fit inside a geological
landscape that is entirely constructed on the principle of impersonal forces. "It" can rain,
but "it" cannot be made to decide, to judge, or to choose!
This odd appearance in the even landscape draws the geologist out of the neutral land-
scape of his academic discipline. He closes his notebook, climbs down from his perch, and
begins to walk in the direction of the mysterious rock formation. His entire outlook on the
world is now transformed. The same landscape that only a moment ago was, from the per-
spective of the geologist, a field of resisting natural forces holding the promise of some day
becoming entirely transparent to natural scientific reason now has transformed to become
the domain of an other. This metamorphosis of the landscape takes place at the exact mo-
ment when the geologist begins to suspect that the little mound of boulders and the small
rectangular clearing before him is not a natural but an artificial formation and that in all
likelihood he is facing a human grave.
From this fateful moment on, the geologist begins to assume a very different emo-
tional and intellectual stance toward his surrounding world. His thinking of even just a mo-
ment ago had been formed by notions of physical causality and by an exclusive logic of
natural forces and material interchanges. Just a moment ago, he still sojourned in the coun-
try of "it." But now that he has come face-to-face with a monument, his thinking and feel-
ing enter a very different register and become restructured along the primordial fault line
that divides the "self" from the "other."
He now enters an ethical realm of "right" and "wrong," a sexual domain of "he" and
"she," and a generational domain of "older," "contemporary," and "younger," of the "un-
born," the "living," and "the dead." He rediscovers motive and desire in relationship to an
other, he enters an aesthetic world of beauty and ugliness, and a religious world of what is
permissible and not permissible to do, of what is sacred and what is profane.
In more concrete terms, his thoughts now turn to the possible identity of the person
buried beneath these carefully arranged stones. Was he, like the geologist himself, perhaps
also an explorer, and did he meet here with an accident or perhaps fall ill? (The geologist's
imagination follows here the path of literature, and specifically that of the heroic adventure
novel.)
Or was he perhaps an aboriginal hunter confused by a sandstorm? (His imagination now
turns to anthropology and to questions about possible early inhabitants of what is now a desert.)
Perhaps the buried person was once a ruler of an ancient city that prospered long ago
on the banks of the now extinct river? (He now turns to archeology and the history of suc-
ceeding civilizations.)
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 95

What became of this ancient people and what is now left of their civilization? (He re-
members a haunting painting by Caspar Friedrich of a lone man in a dark 19th-century
overcoat standing atop a mountain overlooking an empty landscape of rocks and clouds.
Here he summons his experiences of art and poetry.)
Could it really be true that at one time children played along the fertile banks of a river
where today one sees nothing but stone and sand? Is this how all civilizations end? (His sen-
sibilities now draw nearer to questions concerning the meaning of life and evoke his expe-
riences with philosophy and religion. He hears a fleeting fragment of a melancholy poem by
Goethe about a frightened maiden consoled by death, and he hears strains of the melody
Schubert created while setting the poem to music.)
We see thus how the geologist, in facing the monument, has returned to the inhabited
world of intersubjectivity. His mind has now turned away from the scientific calculations
that kept him tied to the uninhabited universe of the astronomer's sky, and he has returned
to the inhabited world in which he has learned to love and cultivate the humanities and the
arts. The world of geology and the land of "it" has not disappeared from his consciousness;
it still forms a horizon around his present consciousness of a festive world in which it is
possible to encounter another human being. But he now sees the grave site and the land-
scape surrounding it, not with the eyes of astronomy, but with sight ready to discover a
painting and with ears attuned to the human voice and to music.
This different way of seeing the world does not alienate him from concrete worldly re-
ality, but it does makes him experience it in a different way. He now has entered the inter-
subjective and festive world of host and guest. He is no longer the lone astronomer studying
the sky with all the world around him sunk in sleep, but is now the guest walking up to the
house of his host in eagerness to make his acquaintance. He temporarily has left behind the
natural scientific struggle with inert obstacles and is now eager to enter the world of the hu-
manities iti which it is possible to have a conversation. His reflections on the fate of the un-
known person in the grave inevitably provoke in him thoughts about his own precarious
situation, about his own dwindling supplies, about his own exhaustion, about the dangers he
still must face on the way back home, perhaps even about his own mortality.
His melancholic thoughts about the fate of civilizations, aroused by the presence of the
stranger, make him reexamine the meaning of his current mission and even make him
briefly question his utter devotion to his discipline. His present awareness of this grave and
of this death, even if later it would prove to have been based on an error in perception, con-
stitutes at this time his awareness of an other. And it is this other who has opened his eyes
and his heart to the intersubjective world of the humanities, of the arts and religion. It is this
other who has opened to him a world of hospitality and conversation. It is the presence of
the other that has opened to him the portals of reflection that led him to meditate on the
meaning of life and the fate of civilizations.
It was thus the evocation of a personal presence, incarnate in a artifact, that at first dis-
turbed the geologist's ongoing natural scientific preoccupation. It was this awareness of a
personal presence amid the stones of geology that transported him from the neutral geolog-
ical world of "It rains," "It falls," and "It happens" to another world in which it was possi-
ble to think of mortality, of truth, of beauty, of good and evil, of motivation, of life and
death, and the fate and ultimate purpose of what we do or fail to do. His entire train of
thought, which drew sustenance from philosophy, theology, art, history, architecture, liter-
ature, and music, was set in motion the very instant he felt himself called upon by someone.
 96 BERND JAGER

If, instead of discovering a grave, the geologist had suddenly heard a child cry out, or had
he been surprised by the song of angels, the result would not have been different. In all
these instances he would have been called away from his geological preoccupations in or-
der to confront an other.
Note here how the contemplation of physical nature introduces us to a generic, a-his-
toric time of "it," prior to the emergence of a "he" and a "she," a "self" and an "other,"
while the contemplation of a monument, even though it ostensibly belongs to the past,
introduces us to a temporal order in which we are invited to a relationship of mutual reve-
lation of self and other. A monument addresses us. It demands of us a personal acknowl-
edgment; it opens to us a space that is hospitable to conversation; it invites us to enter into
a dialogue with the past. We are thus present to a grave in ways that we can never be present
to the rocks of geology, to the forces of physics, or to the substances of chemistry.

THE WORLD OF THE BARRIER AND THE WORLD OF THE THRESHOLD

We have seen thus far how the awareness of the presence of another subject takes the
geologist from the neutral and indifferent world of natural scientific pursuits and transports
him to a very differently structured world of hospitality and dialogue in which it becomes
possible for him to encounter his own and the other's subjectivity. His situation differs in no
essential respect from that of someone who in the midst of his daily labors is surprised by
a telephone call or by a knock on the door. Such a person interrupts his absorption in the
world of work, where he is in the habit of removing one obstacle after the other, and enters
a very differently structured world that leads him to a threshold and fills him with the hope
of a hospitable and personal encounter.
As we observe the geologist walking toward the grave, we notice that he no longer
moves and acts in the forthright and businesslike manner of the experienced field geologist.
He no longer is surveying a geological terrain in the manner of the astronomer scanning the
skies, but is now on his way to meet a stranger. This shift in perspective introduces a certain
note of reticence in his manner and a certain hesitation in his footsteps. His entire body now
moves in a way that testifies to his mental and physical understanding that he is approach-
ing a threshold that leads to the mysterious domain of an other.
When he reaches the grave site, he kneels down beside the monument to inspect it at
close range. His demeanor is now respectful, his movements and expressions more tentative
and ready to respond to the presence of an other. As he begins to examine the conical head-
stone, he is very careful not to place his foot upon the rectangular clearing that forms part
of the grave. And as he bends down to inspect the individual stones that form part of the
monument, he no longer studies them in the manner of a geologist who is primarily inter-
ested in their physical and chemical composition; rather, he studies them as an anthropolo-
gist might study a mask or a historian an ancient manuscript. Within this new world of
festive encounters with others, he now approaches these stones as markers or as letters that
spell out and symbolize facets of a personal identity and a social history. He now finds
himself in the position of someone calling upon a stranger. We expect such a person to be
alert and to behave so as to open himself up to possible surprises.
We might think here of an insurance man, for example, as he makes his way along the
path through flower beds to the front door of the house of a prospective client. We assume
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 97

that this is his first call, and we imagine him thus as eagerly looking around for clues that
may help him frame the right approach to his new client. He certainly will take note of the
size, the stature, and the state of upkeep of the house and flower beds. He may be glad to
discover a prosperous bed of roses, because he himself cultivates roses, and the topic of rose
cultivation may serve as a bond between him and his client. Ifhe notices a child's bike on
the lawn and is greeted by a cocker spaniel wagging his tail, he will gauge his sales pitch
differently than he would if he were to come upon a growling pit bull fiercely tugging on a
chain. All these details inform the salesman about the identity of his client and help him
find a proper manner to approach him.
Within the given frame of mind, the salesman is not likely to inspect the flower beds as
would a biologist or a professional gardener. Nor would he be likely to scrutinize the struc-
tural details of the house as might an architect or a real estate salesman. He would more
likely take notice of all those details of maintenance and construction that would afford him
insight into the tastes, preferences, and habits of those he is about to meet.
What the visitor seeks in the flower beds, the shrubbery, the garage, and the steps lead-
ing up to the front door are the unknown faces of those he seeks to get to know. He seeks
not the house or the car or the garden. He seeks not the instrument, but the user of that in-
strument, his state of mind, his character. This search for a face, for an identity, for a state
of mind has little in common with the research of the technologist or the natural scientist,
but rather resembles the activities of the humanist historian, the literary scholar, the reli-
gionist, and the humanist-psychologist.
As the geologist cautiously inspects the grave, all material objects that fall under his
scrutiny awaken from their slumber within a neutral, material world of natural forces and
transform themselves into a kind of material adjectives that add concreteness to what is
at first only a blank portrait of a stranger, Within this new attitude in which he approaches
the threshold, all objects that draw his attention reveal themselves as belonging to an
other. These objects now point to an other subject and begin to reveal to him that other
subject's world.
The geologist has stepped from one attitude into another, and the world around him
stands now revealed in a very different light. It is as though the objects that he now en-
counters have undergone a sudden and miraculous transformation from indifferent natural
things to symbols capable of describing a human and a cultural reality. This transformation
or transubstantiation takes place at the very moment when the geologist steps outside
the uninhabited world of the natural sciences and enters the inhabited world of personal
encounters.
This moment of transformation thus marks the transition from the cultural workaday
sphere of the natural sciences to the festive sphere of the humanities, the arts, and religious
practices. It also marks the shift in perspective from a naturalistic psychology that dissolves
the human presence into the world of "it" to a humanistic and descriptive psychology that
belongs to the world of the humanities, the arts, 'and religious practices.
The progressive world of the natural sciences is one of relentless advances in which we
move from discovery to discovery in an unending search for intellectual and material mas-
tery of the natural world. Entering this world is like beginning a long march on a road where
every step on the way demands the removal of a physical or mental barrier and where each
new breakthrough, as soon as it is achieved, brings into view some new obstacles on the
way to an ultimate mastery of nature. Each barrier incarnates a facet of the natural world's
 98 BERND JAGER

resistance to human dwelling, each manifests its essential indifference to human needs and
desires, and the removal of each barrier represents a weakening of this resistance and a fur-
ther step on the road of the natural scientific and technological conquest of nature.
Both the world of work and the world of the festive offer us an ultimate prospect in
which all our needs and desires would at last be met and put to rest. The ultimate dream of
the workaday world is that of an absolute appropriation of nature in which all of natural re-
ality would have been made subordinate to our will. The ultimate dream of the realm of the
festive is that of an absolute revelation of self and other in which all our love and desire for
the other would be stilled and in which our passion to give recognizable form to our expe-
rience would have been not just calmed, but silenced. Our desires unrestrained would thus
lead us in the direction either of a total appropriation of the natural world or of a total reve-
lation of self and other. In the end, we would be forced to make the impossible choice be-
tween being and having. Clearly, our desire to gain mastery over nature must be tempered
with the desire for festive manifestation, and our desire to gain material possession of a nat-
ural landscape must be tempered by our desire for a festive revelation of that landscape.
Equally, our desire to control and dominate the other and to use him as an instrument in the
service of our workaday projects must be counterbalanced by a festive desire to witness his
free and spontaneous self-manifestation.
The world revealed to us within the attitude of mental or physical appropriation and
the world revealed to us in the festive revelation of self and other resemble each other inso-
far as both are structured by a difference between what is self and what is other than the self.
Neither world can maintain itself in the absence of the other, so that both are characterized
by an internal and an external difference. Another way of saying this is that both the world
of work and the world of the festive can be understood as two different ways of cultivating
the difference between what is self and what is other.
Within the world of everyday work, of technology and natural science, each task and
each problem presents itself as an obstacle to progress, as a barrier against which we pit the
strength of our bodies and the agility of our minds in order to overcome and remove it. But
the festive world of revealing encounter is structured, not by natural barriers that must be
opposed and removed, but by thresholds that must be left in place and that demand to be re-
spected. The world of the festive demands that we regard the threshold as an inviolable limit
before which we bring to a halt all progress of a workaday, technological world and where
we do no more than announce our presence and await the manifestation of the other.
The path of scientific inquiry into the natural world is that of Columbus sailing un-
charted waters to the unknown comers of the earth. To progress along that path means to do
battle with an endless succession of obstacles in which each obstacle represents a measure
of our ignorance and inexperience with the world of natural forces. Within this workaday
world, we progress by relying on resources of body and mind and by cultivating the virtues
of courage and steadfastness that make us persist in the face of an indifferent natural world.
But the festive world of inquiry in which we seek a personal revelation of self and
other sets us on a path that leads us to altars, portals, doorways, and monuments. Our in-
quiry here begins with accepting the first law of the threshold, which forbids us to make use
of force or trickery to gain our way and places on us the demand to arrest our workaday
progress, to make known our presence, and to await the appearance of the other. This path
of inquiry explores the festive self-manifestation of the world of host and guest in which we
live and die and feel at home.
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 99

THE ALTAR AS THRESHOLD IN HESIOD'S THfOGONY

Hesiod's (1959) Theogony tells the story of Prometheus and details for us the important
role he played in the emancipation of mankind from an original state of dependency and con-
fusion to that of an independent people inhabiting their own domain. The myth tells us that in
a very distant past, human beings lived among the gods without any awareness of their own
identity as mortal human beings and without perceiving the essential differences that set them
apart from the gods. For Hesiod, the mystery of human origins is not that of the material cre-
ation of a particular type of creature and does not concern even a process of making or fabri-
cating. The creative act whereby humankind comes into being takes here the form of an
acknowledgment and subsequent celebmtion of what is initially a painful truth. Within this vi-
sion, mankind came into being the very day it began to realize its own distinct nature and be-
gan to properly orient itself in respect to the other forms of being. The birth of humankind came
thus in the form of a discovery of the difference between self and other, and about the place that
human beings should properly occupy within both the natuml and the supmnatural world.
Ontological distinctions are distinctions made on the level of being. Thus, we think of
the difference between divine and human being, or of that between human beings and ani-
mals, as ontological distinctions. It appears that in the Theogony, the birth of mortal human
beings takes the form of their discovery of their own ontological difference from the im-
mortal gods. We find in this text nothing concerning the physical making of mortals, noth-
ing that would make us believe that human beings had from the start been set apart from the
gods. The story of the creation of mankind should logically recount two different stages, the
first of which does not appear in this story. That first stage should tell about the coming into
being of human beings and the creation of a difference in the universe of divine beings. The
second stage, which forms part of the Prometheus story as it is told here, concerns man-
kind's discovery and final acceptance of that fatal and glorious difference. This discovery
and acceptance comes to light under the tutelage of Prometheus, the great emancipator and
benefactor of humankind. It is for this reason that the story of the birth of mortals is told
here in the form of a story concerning Prometheus.
Hesiod (1959, verses 535 and 536, p. 155) tells the story of the discovery of the fate-
ful difference in a very succinct way:
It was when gods and mortal men
took their separate positions at Mekone.

The story gives us no specific details about what it was that caused the separation or
how the discovery of man's sepamte nature came about. All we know is that it was made and
that the best way to understand man's emancipation is to follow the story of Prometheus,
who incarnates the human spirit and its movement toward independence.
What sets the story of mankind and Prometheus in motion is thus not a quarrel, not an
accidental misunderstanding, but the intellectual and spiritual discovery of an ontological
difference. When Zeus was told about mankind's decision to set up sepamte households at
some distance from the gods, his initial reaction seemed to have been favomble. He ordered
that a great feast be prepared to celebrate the impending separation so that mortals and im-
mortals would be able to enjoy a last supper together and embrace each other for a last time.
He charged Prometheus with slaughtering a magnificent bull and with preparing two por-
tions, one to be offered to the gods and the other to the mortals.
 100 BERND JAGER

The choice of Prometheus for this task shows the central role he played in the drama
of human emancipation. Throughout the complex weavings and windings of the story, he
plays the role of the benefactor of mankind, which he serves with his ability to anticipate
the future-his name derives from the Greek prometheia, meaning "forethought," "fore-
sight," and "caution"-and with his extraordinary ability to make appropriate distinctions.
After killing and butchering the bull, Prometheus proceeded to divide the portions,
and he did so in such a way that mankind appeared to gain the better part. But however we
may interpret the division of the portions, it appears clear that it was made to reflect the dif-
ferent natures of mortals and immortals. After Mekone, it was still possible for gods and
men to eat together, but it no longer was suitable for them to eat the very same food.
Prometheus took the massive bones of the slaughtered animal, craftily covered them
with layers of fat, and placed this offering before Zeus as the portion destined for the gods.
He then hid the meat inside the unsightly stomach, covered it with the entrails, and placed
it next to the other portion. Zeus declared himself satisfied with the seemingly more desir-
able portion for the gods, and his doing so raises the question whether he was truly taken
in by Prometheus' deception.
Ifwe read the story with the understanding that a quarrel had led to the fateful separa-
tion, then we must assume that Zeus was unaware of the clever trick being played on him,
and this hardly seems plausible. But if we approach the story as a myth concerning human
emancipation, then we see Zeus' apparent gullibility in a very different light. The deception
practiced by Prometheus would then represent a first step in the emancipation of mankind,
and Zeus' apparent failure to notice it should be read as his quiet, unstated approval of the
growing independence of the human spirit. The deception could then be seen as the end
point of a period during which mortals had remained morally and intellectually transparent
to the gods.
Something very similar can be observed in the developing relationship between young
children and their parents. There comes a time when the child begins to outgrow a relation-
ship of complete transparency to the parents and begins to move in the direction of a more
autonomous life in which it becomes possible to hide something from the parents and to
keep a secret. The child thereby accepts a first fruitful distance from the parents, and this
distance, if it is properly respected, lays the foundation upon which all further stages of
emancipation are built.
Yet, this first distance and this fateful first step in the direction of independence in-
variably give rise to conflicting feelings in parents and child alike, feelings that must be
borne with patience, like the pain of birth itself. Few parents would fail to recognize them-
selves in this portrait of a half-irritated and half-pleased Zeus, as he sees mortal beings take
their first fledgling steps in the direction of independence. In any case, if we place Zeus'
silent suffering of Prometheus' tricks within the larger context of the emancipation of
mankind, the whole story begins to make sense.
There is another good reason to read the myth in this manner. All the events of which
the myth makes mention occurred in a place named Mekone. Some have tried to link this
name to that of an ancient town in Corinth, but such realist interpretations do not advance
our understanding of the myth (Lamberton, 1988, p. 98). A more promising approach
would be to read the place name as a hidden revelation of a central aspect of the myth. The
Greek noun mekoon translates as "poppy" or "head of the poppy," or, in botanical terms, Pa-
paver somniferum (Liddell & Scott, 1966 [see under Meekoon)). As such, it refers to the
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 101

realm of sleep and dreams and to a preconscious realm prior to conscious human existence.
To escape from that realm thus constitutes a first step on the way to full humanization and
self-possession.
It is perhaps useful here to recall that Aristotle (1967, p. 587) used the word meconium
almost the same way we still do in modem English, namely, to refer to either the juice of the
poppy or the fecal discharge of newborn infants. If we read these ancient meanings back
into the place name, we begin to understand that the site of the last banquet with the gods
was also, at the same time, the true birthplace of the human spirit.
It was thus at Mekone that the human spirit, guided and symbolized by Prometheus,
came to recognize its essential difference from the gods. Characteristic of that recognition
was mankind's adopting for itself the name mortals and learning to speak of the gods as
the immortals. It thus seems that human confusion disappeared and that sensible action be-
came possible when human beings began to recognize their nature as essentially fragile,
mortal, and limited. This would imply, at the same time, that the condition of confusion and
lack of sense would return whenever hubris overwhelmed common sense and decency, and
blur human understanding of the lines of distinction between mortals and immortals. A
corollary of this proposition would be that the soundness and the clarity of the human mind
would in some important measure depend on the human ability and willingness to assume
a proper stance in regard to the gods and, by extension, in respect to fellow human beings,
other living creatures, and, finally, to natural and artificial objects. A fully human rational-
ity developed beyond the stage symbolized by Mekone would thus be based on the lived
recognition of the threshold that both separates mankind from and unites us to the gods.
But let us return to the scene of the farewell dinner and observe what next took place.
Most likely, the two groups made complimentary speeches to each other following the din-
ner and, most likely, sang poems and made merry and then embraced each other in a last
farewell. The mortals then gathered themselves under the leadership of Prometheus and set
out for their new homeland.
The gods remained on Mount Olympus, and perhaps watched the departing mortals be-
gin their long journey from Mekone to the distant and as yet unsettled human world. Let us
remind ourselves that the road traveled by the mortals opened in only one direction, so that
mortals could never retrace their steps. One is reminded in this context of the title of Thomas
Wolfe's (1940) great novel, You Can't Go Home Again. Only Prometheus was able, now and
then, to return to the abode of the gods. Yet this inability of ordinary mortals to physically re-
turn to their origins did not, for all that, make them forget or scorn their origins, and one of
the fIrSt things they did after reaching their new homeland was to build an altar.
In building that altar, they created a threshold between the realm of the gods and that
of mortal men and thereby established a definition of the human condition that both sepa-
rated it from and linked it to the domain of the immortal gods. In this way, they situated
themselves in a meaningful way within a larger cosmos.
Hesiod (1959, verses 556 and 557, p. 156) writes:
Ever since that time the race of mortal men
on earth have burned
the white bones to the immortals
on the smoking altars.

Greek ritual sacrifice required that a victim be killed and slaughtered in a carefully
prescribed fashion. Much as Prometheus had done in preparation for the last supper with
102 BERND JAGER

the gods, the priest officiating at a sacrifice would burn the bones and the fat of the victim
on the altar as a gift to the gods while he offered communion to the celebrants in the form
of roasted meat.
The sacrificial ritual would thus be, first of all, a commemorative event in which mor-
tals would remember the time when they had lived without distinction among the immortal
gods. At the same time, they would also remember the painful day of their separation at
Mekone, together with the proud day when they built an altar to delineate their own domain.
The sacrifice thus evoked not only nostalgic feelings about a lost closeness to the gods, but
also pride and confidence in a newly established position within the whole of the cosmos.
It was in final instance this establishment of a domain of their own that enabled mortals to
host a meal and to make a sacrifice to the gods.
In Aeschylus' (1976) Prometheus Bound, verses 444-458, we find a passage in which
Prometheus describes the condition of humanity prior to the exodus from Mekone, and this
portrayal is anything but flattering. He describes that condition in the following words:
In those days they had eyes, but sight was meaningless;
Heard sounds, but could not listen; all their length of life
They passed like shapes of dreams, confused and purposeless.
Of brick-built, sun-warmed houses, or of carpentry,
They had no notion; lived in holes, like swarms of ants,
Or deep in sunless caverns; knew no certain way
To mark off winter, or flowery spring, or fruitful summer;
Their every act was without knowledge, till I came.
I taught them to determine when stars rise or set-
A difficult art. Number, the primary science, I
Invented for them, and how to set down words in writing.

The Greek ritual of sacrifice thus offered an opportunity to think back upon a time of
great intimacy with the gods, while at the same time rejoicing in the blessing of living in
an intelligible world in which it was possible to make moral, aesthetic, and intellectual dis-
tinctions. It was above all a time to celebrate the gift of a circumscribed identity, of a place
and a time of one's own that, in turn, would make it possible to extend hospitality to mor-
tals and imortals. It was all these gifts that together provided a sense of direction to what
otherwise would have been a merely scattered, episodic life.
As noted before, it was Prometheus who led mankind out of its state of primordial con-
fusion and who guided humanity in the direction of a more autonomous and separate exis-
tence at some distance from the gods. It was again Prometheus who presided over the
original division of the portions and who gave a lasting form to the institution of ritual sac-
rifice. He introduced distance and difference into the life of the human race, and the Greek
altar remains a lasting monument to his spirit.
In Aeschylus (1976), we read how he taught humans to distinguish themselves from
the gods and how, once that distinction was properly made, he succeeded in teaching them
the difference between the seasons, between the constellations of the stars, and between one
natural or artificial sign and another. His ultimate claim (verse 506) is that he laid the foun-
dation for
All human skills and science....

We might ask ourselves what relationship we might be able to discern between this
abundance of Promethean gifts and the establishment of the first altar. To begin to under-
stand this relationship, we must first realize that the altar, understood as a first threshold be-
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 103

tween mortals and immortals, placed human beings for the first time in a proper relation-
ship to the gods. The essential Promethean gift did not take the form of a particular thing or
a particular circumscribed ability. It was not something added to the bill of particulars of a
human life; rather, it consisted in a fundamental reorientation of human existence that
placed it in a right perspective, first, in regard to the gods and, second, in regard to each
other and the natural world. Prometheus thus did not endow human beings with intelli-
gence-Hesiod and Aeschylus are both clear on this point-but he placed them in a rela-
tionship to their surrounding world in such a way that their intelligence could become
properly engaged and bear fruit.
What we can say about human intelligence applies equally to the human senses, to the
worlds of sight and sound. Just like human intelligence, the senses of sight, of taste, of
touch, of smell,and of hearing were never absent from the human condition. But these
senses could make their rich contributions to a human world only after mortals had found a
right perspective and a proper relationship to the immortals and, by derivation, had found
the proper stance from which to approach themselves, others, and their surrounding natural
world. This manner of understanding the birth of mankind and the essential gift of
Prometheus as that of an emancipating orientation brings us back to the central issue of the
altar, understood as the archetype of all thresholds.
The Greek rite of sacrifice can be understood as a journey back in time and space to
the outer limits of the human realm marked by an altar that points to the adjoining realms
of mankind and the gods. The journey thus brought the celebrants into the presence of a
marker that pointed to a difference that was understood to be the very source of all subse-
quently discovered differences. The ritual repeated the journey of the ancestors that had
ended in the founding of a separate human realm and the establishment of the first altar. At
the same time, the journey commemorated the last supper humans and mortals had enjoyed
in each other's immediate company. The ritual thus revived the memory of an old relation-
ship of confusion in which mortals still lived in ignorance of their own mortal nature. But it
also offered grounds for pride in a new alliance, in which mortals proved capable of mak-
ing and bearing distinctions, of holding and keeping apart, while at the same time being
able to build bridges, to forge meaningful connections. In final instance, the ritual spoke of
the dignity of the human condition as deriving from a dual, and only seemingly contradic-
tory, movement. Mortals stood their own ground at some respectful distance from the gods,
but with unceasing efforts to create and maintain meaningful links between the two realms.
Between the two realms there stood as symbol, of both their separate status and their al-
liance, the altar founded by Prometheus. Such an altar may be understood as the very ar-
chetype of all thresholds.
The rite of sacrifice can thus be seen to symbolize the entire emancipatory myth that
tells the story of the birth of mankind. We use the word "symbol" here in the literal and an-
cient meaning of a bringing together a host and a guest within a hospitable realm. The
word symbolon originally formed part of the vocabulary of ancient Greek customs of hos-
pitality (Liddell & Scott, 1966). If two strangers befriended each other while on a journey
away from home, they would upon parting break a piece of pottery or a coin in two pieces
and have each guard a half as a permanent token of their friendship. This token could then
later serve as a sign by which to recognize either each other or each other's descendants.
The symbolon thus always signified at the same time the actuality of a separation and the
promise of a hospitable return. But note that the promise contained in the two broken pieces
 104 BERND JAGER

of pottery, like that contained in the altar, referred to a hospitable meeting and not the can-
celling of the original breach.
The rite of sacrifice made visible the primordial separation of mortals and immortals
through the dramatic act of killing and slaughtering the victim. This separation was then
further emphasized by burning the bones and eating the meat. But the same rite also made
visible a new union growing out of this separation, and that union was symbolized by the
altar, understood here as a threshold that opened up a realm of hospitality.
We are thus thinking of the Greek ritual of sacrifice as an opportunity for the cele-
brants to revisit and reaffirm those fundamental and fateful choices that they experienced
as having constituted their humanity. The sacrificial rite offered them a dramatic and re-
flective space in which it became possible to reexperience the birth of humanity as an en-
tering into a new relationship to self, to others, to other forms of being, and to the cosmos.
The dramatic and reflective space in which this revisiting of the ontological past be-
came possible was and remains typically associated with hospitable thresholds. Hospitality
in its fundamental form is always a meeting at the threshold, where it opens a particular type
of conversation that begins with this question: "Who are you? Please declare and identify
yourself, please manifest your being, your truth, your nature!" There are obviously many
levels on which this question can be asked and answered, but the meeting at the threshold
cannot avoid this question. As guests, we walk up to the threshold of the host to announce
who we are, and in response the host comes to the door to manifest his presence and to of-
fer the hospitable space in which we can further speak and give form to our world, and visit
the perspectives offered by our host.
By guiding mankind to take its proper distance from the gods and by inducing them
to establish their own domain, symbolized by the establishment of an altar, Prometheus
brought mankind to the fundamental discovery of hospitality. By establishing a hospitable
threshold between their own domain and that of the gods, human beings at the same time
established a hospitable enclosure within which all aspects of the experienced world could
make their uncoerced appearance. The first ritual sacrifice was thus also the first true en-
counter, not only between mortals and immortals, who now stood sufficiently apart to come
into the presence of each other, but also between neighbor and neighbor, between mankind
and beast, and between mankind and nature. The altar thus made possible a first compre-
hensive outlook upon self and other and upon the world as a whole, We may think of it as a
kind of theater upon the stage of which the diverse aspects of the human world could move
to the fore and make themselves known to a waiting audience.
A human world perceived from the festive perspective of a hospitable threshold differs
essentially from the same world revealed in the hand-to-hand combat with nature that char-
acterizes the profane and workaday world. A merely vital contact between the hunter or the
trapper and his quarry provided him with the means to still his hunger and to prolong his
biological life. A purely utilitarian, profane, and workaday contact with animals would pro-
vide information relevant to the hunt, or to the raising of livestock, but only the festive and
hospitable enclave of the cult site could bring the early hunters into the uncoerced presence
of reindeer, boar, and bison.
The festive threshold provides a fullness of access, both to the self and to the other, in
a way that a profane breakdown of barriers can never attain. At the end of our complete
mastery of the other, we find a compliant or evasive slave. But the invocation of the thresh-
old and performance of the rites of hospitality transforms both self and an other into in-
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 105

exhaustible and mysterious sources of vital interest. Profane and practical life provides us
with tantalizing glimpses of the human world, but only the realm of the festive and the sa-
cred can create for us the hospitable enclosures from which we can attain coherent insights
into our human condition.
We saw how Prometheus described mankind's early state of confusion prior to the
original separation from the gods. He portrayed them as effectively blind and deaf, as bereft
of common sense and lacking in any understanding. In that early condition of confusion be-
tween self and other, there was as yet no altar, no distance, no difference, and therefore no
hospitable means to bridge distance and difference.
We thus learn from the tale of Prometheus that the acceptance of a festive difference
and distance within the spirit of hospitality provides us with the only means we have to a
full disclosure of self, of other, and of our world. Without that vital and humanizing ingre-
dient, all existing differences, all clarifying and productive distances between things and be-
ings begin to disintegrate; all actions, all manner of objects, all distinctions begin to lose
their contours, begin to invade each other, begin to fuse with one another, thereby draining
the world of sense and purpose. Only a relationship of hospitality, based on the sacredness
of the threshold, opens us to a meaningful perspective upon the world so that all manner of
objects and beings can appear in their full and true dimensions. It is thus only within the
embrace of hospitality that anything at all can emerge as fully visible, fully tangible, audi-
ble, and sensible. It is only within a pact of hospitality that the world can be properly
queried and understood and that it can fully show itself for what it is.
The threshold is a place where differences are hospitably received and acknowledged
in such a way that they can be placed into a relationship to one another. It is here that they
find mutual reconciliation and emancipation within the wide embrace of hospitality. The
threshold should be seen as essentially the entryway to a place ofjestive disclosure that bids
all those who are gathered within its embrace to manifest themselves and to endeavor to
come fully into each other's presence. Seen in this way, only the threshold holds out for us
the prospect of a fully human world.

THE THRESHOLD AND THE STUDY OF RELIGIOUS LIFE

As we have seen thus far, thresholds constitute the ultimate borders of the human do-
main and indicate the very limits beyond which it is no longer possible to forge ahead with
the otherwise powerful instruments of progress that the world of work puts at our disposal.
These ultimate borders demand from us a response different from that elicited by barriers
and obstacles. They demand that, for the moment, we lay down our weapons, abandon our
instruments of progress, abstain from strategies, forsake all designs for mental or physical
conquest, and await instead the manifestation of an other as an other. Where we encounter
the threshold, we turn from our ordinary daily concerns, we suspend the struggle for life in
order to assume a festal or religious attitude and await, whether in hope and joy or in fear
and trembling, the one who is other and irreducible to ourselves.
We may think of the other whom we await at the threshold as the one who completes
us as an individual person, as our "better half" who is our wife or husband, or who, as a child
or grandchild, completes us as a parent or grandparent, or who, as a neighbor or close
friend, completes our social being. But it is also possible to think of the other as the other of
 106 BERND JAGER

humanity as a whole, as a god or venerated ancestor whom we await in a festal attitude at our
communal border. Such an other may also take the form of another biological species, of a
bison, an ibex, or a boar, such as we see depicted on the cave walls of the paleolithic sanctu-
aries of Lascaux and Altamira. We may think of such a cave wall as a threshold or as the
communal border of the tribe, and may imagine the painter as an inspired priest welcoming
the mysterious appearance of the other-as-animal from beyond the threshold.
There is a clear difference between seeking to approach an animal in the context of a
hunt and welcoming the appearance of that same animal by means of the inspired action of
song or dance or mime, of shadow play or theater, or via a dramatic retelling of an ancient
myth. The animal we conquer and appropriate in the hunt is the animal we meet across ob-
stacles. The mysterious animal that appears to us in dreams and visions, in dance and in pic-
torial representations, is an appearance of which we ask nothing more than that it show
itself fully and clearly. It is the abundance of that appearance that renders us thoughtful and
perhaps more grateful than we could be for any quarry. The animal we catch in the hunt
feeds the hunger of the belly, but the animal that shows itself in response to our dancing it,
to our singing or painting it, feeds the hunger of the soul. We pursue the animal of the belly
past obstacles, we await the animal of the soul near the thresholds where the domain ofhu-
man beings ends and that of animals begins. We hunt animals that live "in the wild," in field
and forest. But we paint, dance, and sing animals as creatures that dwell with us on earth
like neighbors.
On the walls of Lascaux, the animals appear, not as prey, not as something to be
stealthily approached and conquered, not as a source of physical danger, not as a mere vi-
sual or auditory trace apprehended amid the excitement of the hunt, but as others that step
completely out of hiding and openly approach us to meet us at a sacred border. These paint-
ings thus show the other side of the life of the hunter-not when he is in active pursuit of
his quarry, but when he turns from the world of obstacles and contemplates his world from
the site of the sacred border and threshold. He experiences the animals that make their ap-
pearance here as manifestations of an other form of life that complements his own, that
forms a whole with it. He sees these now as a necessary complement to human life, a life
that without that complement would be fatefully altered and impoverished.
But the realm of animals, or that of nature, is not the only other that completes our hu-
man life. Our life is inevitably touched and in part defined by the dead and by the gods who
inhabit the realm at the other side of the threshold. To be human means to be inevitably bor-
dered and defined by other creatures and other beings. We are inescapably neighbors to
both natural and supernatural beings.
We have stressed the fact that the border between self and other must ultimately take
the form of a threshold. Between neighbors and neighbors, we find the threshold that marks
the end of the inhabited domain of the one and announces the beginning of the domain of
the other. It is respect for and obedience to this threshold that makes possible the relation-
ship of one neighbor to another. To remove that threshold from our world would at the same
time remove from our lives the very possibility of being someone's neighbor.
Between mankind and the gods, there stands the threshold in the form of an altar, of a
holy place, of a place of worship. To desecrate or to remove that threshold would mean not
only to despoil the human world of its treasured religions, but also to rob humanity of an
important means of self-definition and self-understanding.
HUMAN SUBJECTIVITY AND LAW OF THRESHOLD 107

Between the living and the dead, there stands the threshold in the fonn of the grave and
the funeral monument. To rob mankind of that threshold would transfonn the dead into
mere refuse and our memories of them into empty and idle chatter.
A monument is literally "something that reminds us," and as such it is the cornerstone
of any civilization. A society bent on removing all thresholds and replacing them with bar-
riers would by that act not only transfonn the gods into empty illusions, but also undennine
the very foundations of the countless great works they inspired. Such a society would de-
prive itself not only of religion, of art and music, but also of all other fonns of festive cele-
bration. It would reduce the memories of our dead to ashes, deface all monuments, and
transfonn home and hearth into mere shelters against rain and wind. In such a world of des-
ecrated thresholds, love and friendship could no longer thrive, and in their place we would
find only tasks to be completed, cravings to be assuaged, demands to be satisfied, procre-
ation to be taken care of.
Such a self-destructive society, hostile to all thresholds, could endure for only a short
time in the fonn of an unruly mob or a totalitarian state. In either instance, the marginal hu-
man life that it could offer would be joyless, and at the same time, nasty, brutish, and short.
Our humanity depends on our ability both to work and to celebrate, to inhabit both quotid-
ian and festive reality, both to be able to overcome obstacles and to obey thresholds, both to
transform and master natural reality and to await the appearance of the other.
A natural science is inherently an instrument designed to remove barriers to our un-
derstanding and to overcome obstacles to our full use of natural reality. It is in the nature of
natural science, as it is in the nature of our daily tasks, to overcome obstacles and to shape
a natural environment in ways that fit our natural needs. But it is equally necessary to sur-
round the task-oriented perspective of our daily life, together with that of the natural sci-
ences, with a very different, festive perspective that enables us to recognize thresholds and
to evoke the manifestation of an other.
Generally, our world is structured in such a way that the perspective within which we
perform our ordinary, daily, technical or problem-solving tasks is always already sur-
rounded by a festive perspective that awaits the end of our labors and that is eager to open
us up to another world in which we celebrate the manifestation of the self as the self and the
other as the other. All work days are surrounded by the prospect of coming feast days, just
as all obstacles and barriers are surrounded by thresholds.
To translate this understanding to the field of psychology means for us to recognize
the needs for both a natural scientifically oriented psychology, capable of removing ob-
stacles from the world of work, and a humanities-inspired psychology of the festive, de-
voted to the study of the establishment, the care, and the maintenance of intersubjective
thresholds. The task of such a humanistic psychology would be to contribute to our un-
derstanding of all practices, whether ancient or recent, whether indigenous or foreign, that
invoke the sacred distance of the threshold while evoking the appearance of the other. Such
practices include, besides prayer, meditation, and the remembrance of the dead, the craft
of writing and the henneneutical task of meditative reading. They include the arts of paint-
ing, sculpting, and drawing, together with those of pantomime and theater. They include
singing and dancing and all fonns of making music. Each of these practices places us be-
fore a door to which we have no key and that can be opened only from the other side and
by an other.
108 BERND JAGER

REFERENCES

Aeschylus (1976). Prometheus bound. Baltimore: Penguin Books.

Aristotle (1967). Historia animalia. In The Works ofAristotle: J-blume !V(p. 587). Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Freud, S. (1964). New introductory lectures on psychoanalysis. New York; W. W. Norton.
Freud, S. (1975). Psychologie des Unbewusten: Studienausgabe: Band Ill. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Verlag.
Groddeck, G. (1961). The book of the It: A revealing theory ofEros. New York: New American Library,
Groddeck, G. (1987). Das Buch vom Es: Psychoanalytische Briefe an eine Freundin. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer
Taschenbuch Verlag.
Hesiod (1959). Theogony. In Hesiod (pp. 155-159). Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
Klein, E. (1971). Klein s comprehensive etymological dictionary of the English language. Amsterdam: Elsevier.
Lamberton, R. (1988). Hesiod. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Liddell, G. L., & Scott, R. (1966). Greek-English lexicon. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Wolfe, T. C. (1940). You can't go home again. New York: Random House.
 II

Existential Dimensions

Each of the following seven chapters reports an existential-phenomenological investigation

of an experience of particular interest to its respective author(s). The topics range from
more everyday experiences (Chapters 5-7), to issues ofa clinical and psychotherapeutic na-
ture (Chapters 8-10), to a study that explores an experience that, although explicitly exis-
tential, has implicit transpersonal implications (Chapter 11).
Chapter 5, by Constance T. Fischer, presents a descriptive structure of being angry. Us-
ing four different examples as illustrations, Fischer focuses on being angry as "self-decep-
tive protest," a finding that challenges our cultural belief that anger is a natural force that
we can only withhold or discharge. In this context, she then calls us to a new level of
self-empowerment and personal responsibility.
Chapter 6, by Damian S. Vallelonga, offers a formulation of the lived structure of be-
ing-ashamed, a central result of his empirical-phenomenological study of "being-embar-
rassed and being-ashamed-of-oneself." Focusing on what he calls the "persisting ambiguity
of shame," the author uses his findings to help us distinguish being-ashamed from related
phenomena such as embarrassment, guilt, anxiety, shyness, and modesty.
Chapter 7, by Tania Shertock, takes us out of our own culture into the world of Latin
American women. Shertock is especially interested in the experience of self-empowered
women who succeed in a cultural setting in which men are far more likely to experience and
manifest their power, namely, the experience of feeling able to move toward and accomplish
a meaningful and challenging goal. Her discussion emphasizes the perspective that suc-
cessful people perceive obstacles differently from unsuccessful people (regardless of gen-
der), and that the women in this study evidenced an integration of the feminine and
masculine principles, each within herself.
Chapter 8, by Scott D. Churchill, presents a phenomenological investigation of clini-
cal impression formation, focusing on the psychologist's own experience within the diag-
nostic interview. Churchill offers a general structural description of psychodiagnostic
seeing, providing a new and deeper understanding of how the psychologist is involved as a
perceiving agent in the diagnostic task.
Chapter 9, by Faith A. Robinson, provides a rare look into the realm of dissociative ex-
perience. Designed to reveal the essence of nonsuicidal self-cutting behavior among per-
sons with dissociative (multiple personality) disorder, her results indicate the complexity of
the experience, including the unexpected dimension of ritual abuse. These findings not only

109
110 PART II

deepen our personal understanding of this experience, but also serve to increase the sensi-
tivity of professional psychotherapists who work with dissociative disorder clients.
Chapter 10, by Jan O. Rowe and Steen Halling, discusses the psychology offorgive-
ness in the context of the researchers' own phenomenological findings. Two dimensions of
forgiveness, forgiving another and forgiving oneself, are presented. The authors then ad-
dress the implications of their research for the practice of psychotherapy, especially in re-
gard to being with clients with "deep-seated hurt."
Chapter 11, by Kathleen Mulrenin, presents research that examines what happens in
women when they experience difficulty in praying to a masculine image of the divine. She
concludes that this experience plays an important part in a woman's developing awareness
of the sociocultural significance of gender, and discusses its impact on the psycho spiritual
development of women.
 5

Being Angry Revealed as

Self-Deceptive Protest
An Empirical Phenomenological Analysis
Constance T. Fischer

This chapter begins with four examples of being angry, and then characterizes an empiri-
cal phenomenological research method through which I developed a descriptive structure
of being angry. A discussion of some personal and societal implications focuses on several
aspects of being angry, namely, its being a self-deceptive, self-righteous protest against be-
ing demeaned and blocked in being who one is trying to be. I chose to emphasize these par-
ticular features of the overall structure in order to counter our culture's promotion of anger
as being a natural force that we can only contain, dissipate, release, or discharge.
The chapter then returns to the beginning examples to discuss the power of the revised
understanding of being angry, both for enhancing personal options and responsibility and for
enhancing societal openness to people who are different from us. I remind us that language
forms as well as expresses our thought and culture, and I suggest a relanguaging of anger.

INSTANCES OF BEING ANGRY

Frank
This account concerning Frank, who is about 40, is from my research notes.
As we enter the elevator, Frank, a fellow tenant in my office building, grumps back
"Yeah" in response to my "Good morning!" To my quizzical look, he responds, "Up all

Constance T. Fischer • Department of Psychology, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15282.

111
112 CONSTANCE T. FISCHER

night working on reports." We fall back in silence, looking at the elevator walls. He reads
the taped announcement that the building will be closed for the Fourth of July and sighs,
then scowls. As I exit at the next floor, he suddenly tears the announcement off the wall,
crumples it, and tosses it to the floor, exclaiming, "Damn it, they can't keep me out-I need
the computer to finish!"
Later in the day when I encounter him at the lobby snack bar, I say that it occurs to me
that he can enter the building with his garage key even though the public doors will be
locked. He says self-consciously, "Yeah, after I yelled at the [building management's] sec-
retary, she had Joan explain to me how it works. Actually, it will be great-air conditioning
stays on, and no interruptions."

Susan
This account concerning Susan, who is in her late 20s, is from a handwritten interview.
It is a balmy day. Susan drives with the windows down, enjoying the wind flowing
through her hair, smiling in pleased recollection of friends' recent comments about her
agility and confidence in maneuvering through the traffic circles of Washington, DC. She
rmds herself obligingly leaning toward the passenger window as another driver gestures for
her attention. He yells, "I'd like to suck your pussy!" He leers and shouts elaborations as
Susan tries to maneuver into another lane.
She struggles with the passenger-side window handle, trying to roll the window up
while steering the car. She opts to otherwise behaviorally ignore the "idiot." She finds that
she is gripping the steering wheel tightly and that her heart is pounding. Her face feels
flushed. Susan misses her exit off the circle as she concentrates on evading the goddamned
bastard's car. She strikes the dashboard with her fist, swearing and muttering to herself
about bashing him with a sledge hammer, slashing his genitals, etc. For more than an hour,
she remains enraged, swearing and entertaining graphic counterviolence.
Several years later, while recounting the incident to the researcher, Susan remarks that
she finds herself enraged again while recalling the event. She reports that demeaning sex-
ual abuse by males during her girlhood was immediately evoked by the car incident and by
recalling that incident.

Connie
This account is my own, from my late 50s.
I've just written a check on an emergency account to cover last month's office ex-
penses. I was already behind in billings and in making requests to managed health care
companies for additional psychotherapy sessions for my patients. Then back surgery forced
a month's absence from my practice. I have just impatiently but laboriously filled out a
four-page form asking for such unknowables as the date by which Ms X will no longer be
depressed, along with an itemization of my short-term goals, methods for each, and antici-
pated dates of accomplishment.
Phrases often spoken by colleagues and myself collect silently like a fog or threaten-
ing downpour: "not what I earned my clinical degree for," "can't afford to maintain my pri-
vate practice," "invasion of clients' privacy," "clerks judging my patients' needs."
Next in my foot-high stack of forms, I find a notice from another company that ifl
do not reply within 30 days, payment will be forfeited. The checkmark on the list of pos-
BEING ANGRY REVEALED AS SELF-DECEPTIVE PROTEST 113

sible deficiencies indicates that the service code was missing from the receipts my client
submitted. I sigh and fill in "90844" with ditto marks for each date. I wish I could argue
with a person instead of helplessly complying with anonymous MHC demands. I find that
I'm breathing deeply as though preparing to lift a barbell. Then I sit up straight, look up for
a moment, and scrawl in capital letters across the bottom of the form: "PLEASE NOTE
THAT THE RECEIPT STATED THAT THE SERVICE WAS 'INDIVIDUAL PSY-
CHOTHERAPY-50 MINS,' FOR WHICH THERE IS ONLY ONE CODE: 90844l!"
Now I feel rather foolish, knowing full well that I could have saved myself some of this sort
of trouble if I had my receipts reprinted with service codes. Another patient's managed
health company requires that I use its manual for coding level of interpersonal relation-
ships, grooming, etc., all of this billable at only half my usual rate. I fight an image offorce-
fully shoving all this paperwork into the wastebasket. I'm clenching my teeth and breathing
heavily. I smile abashedly when I recognize that I am experiencing the phenomenon that
I've been researching.

John
This account concerning John, who is in his early 30s, is abstracted from descriptions
presented over the course of several psychotherapy sessions.
John had felt reasonably comfortable during his interview with his Faculty Advisory
Committee as they reviewed his progress through his Ph.D. requirements. After all, he was
one of very few who passed all areas of the comprehensive exams at once. And he had ob-
tained interviews at a couple of prestigious internship sites. And all of this was despite three
years of being undermined by Professor Smith, who repeatedly had pointed out in classes
that John was a "stolid, upwardly mobile fellow" who didn't think dynamically. John had
endured Professor Smith's in-office "therapeutic" probings into his "rigidity," and had man-
aged not to complain to the Division Chair about these intrusions.
Dr. Jones remarks that John's only grade below A- is a C from Professor Smith. An-
other professor observes that John's QPA is clearly high, and that the C is anomalous. John
decides that the better part of valor is to say nothing; he nods. But when Dr. Jones says that
John looks angry, even though John hadn't thought he was, he suddenly finds his throat to
be tight and his eyes squinty. Feeling tricked by the committee, John blurts out that the C
was an irregular grade but certainly was not anomalous, and that "that poor excuse for a
professional, that asshole" had decided in advance to show him who had power, and he
[John] dam well was not going to let him get away with it any more.
Weeks later, one of the committee members told John that they had been amazed by
his outburst, that earlier they had thought that he might share a mature view of what had
been going on between Professor Smith and several dissatisfied students.

Discussion of the Instances

These instances are intended to serve several purposes. First, they illustrate the sort of
anger that this chapter addresses, namely, the angry outburst and the restrained thrust to-
ward outburst. Second, along with situations that you may have recalled from your own life,
the four examples will serve as concrete touch points for later discussion of the nature and
consequences of anger. Finally, the instances will illustrate one form of results of empirical
phenomenological analysis. They are what I call postresearch representations. That is, after
 114 CONSTANCE T. FISCHER

having used participants' reports of these instances to work my way to an overall general
phenomenological structure of being angry, I went back and selected material from each re-
port to illustrate what turned out to be essential aspects of the general structure. In other
words, knowing what I know now, but drawing only on each person's provided data, I
crafted the instances as illustrations. These representations evoke and imply more than they
say explicitly.

WHY AN EMPIRICAL PHENOMENOLOGICAL STUDY

OF BEING ANGRY?

I undertook this study to explore what anger might look like in the absence of reduc-
tive theories. Now I can offer an alternative, a corrective, to the prevailing popular and pro-
fessional conceptions of anger, a corrective that I hope will both encourage personal
responsibility and discourage negative totalization of other people. I also intend this chap-
ter to be an exemplar of the usefulness of an empirical phenomenological approach to
research.
The prevailing (Western) popular notion of anger is that it is an internal thing with a
life of its own, a force that inexorably grows and, if not given vent, either will erupt from its
own pent-up power or will debilitate the body that houses it. Ulcers, heart attacks, strokes,
depleted energy, and more are often attributed to blocked anger. Would-be helpers tell us
to "let it out," "express your anger," "channel your anger," and so on. Both children and
adults say, "I couldn't help it-I was angry."
Scientific psychology perpetuates this view despite alternative presentations such as
Tavris's (1989) Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, and despite the replacement ofpsy-
choanalytical drive and instinct theory by interpersonal dynamic orientations. The meth-
ods and philosophical approach of psychology conceived as a natural science primarily
produce laboratory studies that map out the neurophysiological details of the flight or fight
response to threat (e.g., Lang, 1995). Although important in its own right, that research has
pretty much neglected the person who perceived the threat while going about his or her life.
Both popular and scientific discussions of anger overlook possibilities of a person taking
different meanings from being aroused, meanings that allow for choice.
Phenomenology addresses how human "consciousness" forms what we understand of
the world. It is the study of("ology") what appears to us ("phenomena," [as opposed to
"noumena"-things in themselves)). In this context, phenomenology as a philosophical
foundation for psychological inquiry is distinct from the North American use of the term,
in which phenomenology refers simply to taking experience seriously, or in medical con-
texts to identifying similar patterns of symptoms with diverse etiology. Instead, phenome-
nology, as a philosophy of being and knowledge, grounds the empirical psychological study
of meanings as they occur in and across situations (such as Frank's, Susan's, Connie's, and
John's construction of their particular situations).
At a philosophical level, phenomenology addresses how all human endeavors such as
science and theory building are constructions. That is, our body of knowledge is necessar-
ily based in our living and in the approaches we develop to make sense of our world-as
scientists, and as individuals. In empirical phenomenological investigation, we respect what
appears to us (experience/perception), and undertake to describe that, without looking for
BEING ANGRY REVEALED AS SELF.DECEPTIVE PROTEST 115

external or reductive explanations. We stay at the level of the human order, even while ac-
knowledging its being rooted in physical and physiological orders, as we ask "What is this
phenomenon?" We attempt to form an answer holistically in terms of how persons take up
and move through the particular situation. We can then reflect on how individuals might use
these understandings to initiate shifts-for example, to bypass or move out of a state of be-
ing angry. Similarly, we can use a fairly pretheoretical descriptive structure of what anger
is, to reflect on how different theoretical and research contributions address various aspects
of the fuller phenomenon.

METHOD OF ANALYSIS

Many research procedures are possible within an empirical phenomenological ap-

proach. In this study, I varied procedures developed by the faculty and graduate students of
the Psychology Department of Duquesne University over the past 30 years (e.g., Fischer &
Wertz, 1979; Giorgi, 1985). Our work has been fundamentally empirical in that our data are
first person descriptions of events as lived by that person; they are not second-order data
such as measurements or categories. Nor are they only introspective on one hand or theo-
retically generated on the other.
I began my study of being angry years ago by asking five master's degree students
to write responses to the following request: "Please describe a situation in which you be-
came angry. Tell me what was going on before that, how you became angry, and what
happened after that. Please write in enough detail so that I will know what it was like at
the time." I typed the accounts myself and reread them many times. Then I marked with
back-slashes each segment in an account that seemed to say something about the situa-
tion that the participants had not said before and that would be necessary to the coherence
of the story. For example, I marked "I had been promised that we would go to Cheyenne,"
but dropped out "Tom-that's my cousin's middle child." I also inserted condensations
above some segments; for example: "Now it must have been Wednesday the 23rd" be-
came "3 days later."
Then, using the marked and condensed segments for each of the five accounts, I com-
posed a temporally organized, compact description (something like the opening instances
in this chapter). I was able to ask four of the five students to correct any distortions that I
had unknowingly introduced. Mostly, they were surprised at how powerful the "summaries"
were. With this more manageable material in hand, I asked each sentence of each account
what it was telling me, both directly and implicitly, about the process of becoming and be-
ing angry, always in terms of how the person was relating to self, others, and world, and to
past, present, and future. I sketched an outline of resulting themes, which over the years I
have systematically corrected and expanded in light of further examples of interviews, ob-
served and reported incidents, events described during psychotherapy, newspaper accounts,
and other sources. The themes were both phenomenal (what it was like as told directly to
me, e.g., feeling thwarted, blocked) and phenomenological (what else I could see about how
the person was participating in and shaping the situation, e.g., the blocking implicitly being
a blocking of one's way of being a particular kind of person). Gradually, through ongoing
revisions, I composed the structure presented below, which is intended to evoke for readers
what I came to be in touch with across all instances of becoming and being angry.
116 CONSTANCE T. FISCHER

The initial disciplined work with written protocols has always served me well, keeping
me from generalizing too quickly and from sweeping over variations. Considering nonpro-
tocol incidents of anger helps me to see what my formal participants did not address ex-
plicitly. Over time, empirical instances have revealed and corrected many of my prior
assumptions, refined my descriptions, and given me confidence that I am ready to share my
representation of what I have learned so far.
As with all research, the process goes on from there. Readers will affirm much of what
I have written from its fit with provided examples and from their own experience; readers
also will suggest more apt wording, needed qualifications, and highlighting that did not
occur to me. There might be productive disagreements, with empirical examples as the ob-
ject of discussion.

FINDINGS: A PHENOMENOLOGICAL STRUCTURE OF BEING ANGRY

The following structure is reprinted, with modifications, from Fischer (1996). Note
that the structure is indeed structural-no aspect is more essential than any other; all are
necessary for a phenomenon to be anger; all the aspects belong to a relational whole. The
title of this chapter highlights one constituent-self-deceptive protest-as timely for a par-
ticular purpose: changing the way we regard anger and our options when we are aroused.
Still, all the aspects of the structure are necessary for an emotion to be that of being angry,
and reflection on any of them can serve as a transformative pivot point out of anger. The
current version of my evolving comprehension and expression of the structure of being an-
gry is (Fischer, 1996, pp. 74--75):
In the midst of going about activities, one finds him- or herself thrown back, progress blocked.
Initially one tries again and/or quickly estimates availability of alternative means. A sense of being
thwarted enlarges and becomes focal against a horizon of vague reminders of past obstructions and
nemeses. Up to this point one has been perturbed at the disruption.
As one becomes increasingly attuned to the personal importance of the activity-to its cen-
trality for who one sees him- or herself to be, being thwarted becomes construed as being endan-
gered. Whether fleetingly or remarkably, one's body pulls in (intake and holding of breath,
tightened abdomen and throat, trunk and head drawn back). Attention likewise is pulled in, scan-
ning less and less beyond the immediate scene.
At a later moment, it may become peripherally or focally apparent to self or others that the
personal meaning of being stopped was that of being made to be helpless to continue one's course,
and of being demeaned (made to feel unable, shamed, unsure, awkward, unimportant, discounted,
dumb, etc.). The blocked course is not just the one of getting out reports, maneuvering through traf-
fic circles, processing forms, getting through an advisory committee meeting, and the like, but is
also one of being some special aspect of oneself, as well as being on the way toward being a com-
petent, appreciated, valued person in general. Implicitly one becomes angry about being lessened
as a person through being derailed from his or her previously taken-for-granted project of being a
particular kind of worthy person.
However, the angry protest is directed toward the offender, who becomes the center of one's
attention. Even when the obstacle is a material thing, one perceives it as intentionally villainous, or
as witlessly getting in the way of one's obviously rightful course. The other ought to know better.
Resentments at past wrongs become salient, even if subconsciously. One turns away from any
glimpses of one's own role in these situations, instead sustaining or escalating the protest by
self-righteously recounting the offender's arbitrary, unfair, unjustified intrusion.
Promoting one's own rage, he or she now feels charged, pumped up, explosive, powerful.
Nostrils flare, eyes widen; posture stiffens; jaw and hands clench. One glances about, to check on
the reality and intransigence of the threat, and to identify any further risk. This pause may allow
one to restrain aggressive desire, to de-escalate, to back away, and to regroup, perhaps to reflect.
BEING ANGRY REVEALED AS SELF-DECEPTIVE PROTEST 117

Or one may give way to outward protests aimed at annihilating the obstacle in a defiant, seem-
ingly sudden and powerful protest that conveys, "You can't do this to me!!" The protest may be
verbal (expletives, commands, argument), behavioral (hitting, stomping out, breaking something),
or it may be a visibly strained restraint of such impulses.
Following the strained restraint or the explosive protest, one may feel vindicated, and remain
proudly and vigilantly ready to reassert the protest. Or, in the aftermath of tiredness he or she may
catch clearer glimpses of what the protest was about (the meaning for one's sense of self and one's
progress), beyond what it was at (the incident that blocked one's way), and toward whom the protest
was felt or expressed. One may then feel abashed, embarrassed, defeated, enlightened, and so on,
depending on one's sense of being able to revise the earlier course and still be one's self.

PERSONAL AND SOCIETAL IMPLICATIONS

Implications for Frank, Susan, Connie, and John

We can empathize readily with each research participant's initial dismay and irritation
at being blocked. When we look more closely at their becoming angry, however, we can see
that far from being liberating, empowering, or healthy, the urge toward angry protest serves
as a self-lessening defense against feeling pain and against holding oneself accountable.
The protest may fool both oneself and some witnesses, but ironically it leaves one locked
into accepting that one has been disabled. The effort toward protective self-deception is
self-defeating.
Frank wastes his time and remains helpless to solve his computer-access problem
while he remains angry. His self-consciousness later implies that he feels he has lessened
himself through his outburst. Susan, the driver, in effect sustains her victimization in that
her prolonged protest buys into the continuing power of men to disable and demean her.
Moreover, Susan perpetuates a violent personal environment through her own rageful re-
taliatory imaginings. As long as I (Connie) actively blamed the managed health companies
for my being behind in my paperwork, I perpetuated my protested helplessness. Rather than
rendering me powerful, my angry protests delayed coming to terms with my ineffectiveness
and limitations and with the necessity of changing my office practices. Having finally hired
a medical billing firm to help me get organized and to handle the details I no longer have
time for, I am amazed at just how stultifying my prolonged self-deceptive protests were.
And John's outburst with his clinical committee wound up putting him in the one-down po-
sition he resented. His "he can't do this to me" self-deceptive protest kept John down as he
emoted to the committee.
Yes, of course, a moment of anger sometimes can "clear the air," allowing one to re-
gain perspective. At a more profound level, experiencing one's own arousal to anger, or wit-
nessing another person's arousal, can put us in touch with our existential condition: We
must forever negotiate our life course while resisting, acknowledging, and taking up possi-
bilities and limitations. Being angry is self-deceptive and self-defeating only to the extent
that one turns away from what one does not want to acknowledge about one's options and
limitations. Even then, sometimes in the drained aftermath of emotional restraint or out-
burst, one similarly can finally come to terms with one's own part in the situation and can
reflect on options. It is unexamined, repetitive, or sustained anger that is problematic.
Contrary to current conventional advice, "letting it out" ("it" being a welled-up force)
is likely to constrict one's sense of self and one's options. If instead we consider the struc-
ture of being angry outlined above, we can use any of its constituents as signs that we are
 118 CONSTANCE T. FISCHER

heading into self-deceptive, possibly self-defeating protest. Body tensions, feeling thrown
back, inclinations toward powerfully annihilating the obstacle, and revving up both memo-
ries of past offenses and feelings of self-righteousness are all particularly useful signs that
we might want to find an alternative route, bypassing anger, toward where we were going.
The signs of becoming angry are signs to step back and ask oneself several questions: Am
I necessarily being rendered helpless? Are others necessarily doing this to me? Are there
ways to get around the obstacle? Even though it is clear that I am becoming angry at the im-
mediate blocking, and I know the target of my objection (the toward which), what is my
growing protest about? How is my sense of myself and my overall journey through life be-
ing threatened, and is that necessarily so?
We can guess as to our research participants' disrupted, threatened journeys, "about
which" they protested. Frank perhaps was on his way toward always finishing through per-
sistence despite diffi~ulties. Susan was continuing her course of having surpassed repeated
childhood abuse and shame and of celebrating other achievements. I now realize that I
(Connie) was into, on my own, doing it all (university commitments, clinical services, cler-
ical tasks, daily life) despite surgery. John later described himself as having been up to do-
ing remarkably well, while remaining imperturbable in the face of life's unfairness.
Yes, sometimes we can convert growing protest into positive determination to not be
derailed. Sometimes we can decide to go ahead and display anger in order to intimidate po-
tential blockers. To pursue these tactics successfully, one must take advantage of the pauses
that occur as being angry evolves, such as being thrown back in the first place, and while
scanning for further danger and for possible retaliation. A course toward outburst or even
toward restrained outburst is not inexorable.
Frank might have noted the perceived threat to his progress (building to be closed) as
announced by his incipient senses of being thwarted and of panic, and immediately inquired
of fellow tenants on the elevator as to whether there were ways around the obstacle. In the
future, when Susan recognizes that she is about to protect herself via rageful protest, she
can instead honestly acknowledge to herself that she hates to be reminded of demeaning
abuse, but can remain competent and autonomous by focusing on ways to continue her
course. In other situations, she already has avoided denying the hurtfulness of men's sexual
power plays, and has chosen relatively calmly either to bypass further interaction or to mas-
terfully deliver a putdown. So, too, Connie and John each learned through reflection on
their angry outbursts that they had been denying their situational limitations and had been
keeping themselves stuck while self-righteously blaming others; escape from self-deceiv-
ing displays of power and protest got them back on reasonably modified courses.
Note that such shifts are personal transformations out of being angry; they are not a
"rechanneling" ofa force. Similarly, from the perspective of the structure of being angry,
the high blood pressure that accompanies long-term angry stances is not due to "blocked
anger," but to the person's sustaining an urge toward angry outburst.

Implications for Society

Being angry is a profoundly personal and interpersonal phenomenon, inevitably im-
plicating basic moral issues and social consequences. Coming to terms with finding oneself
becoming or being angry requires, to one extent or another, facing questions such as: What
kind of person am I? Where do I want my life to go from here? Can I continue my own
BEING ANGRY REVEALED AS SELF-DECEPTIVE PROTEST 119

course if! make way for other people? These are morally foundational issues. The moral di-
mensions of sustained anger become clearer as we consider the impact on the persons to-
ward whom it is aimed. The urge to override, if not to obliterate, those who get in our way
obviously does not take their well-being into account. Even if restrained, that urge totalizes
other persons into negative, detested "thems." Despite the angry person's feeling unjustly
thwarted, it is the angry person who demonizes others and wishes them ill.
Unfortunately, much of American culture encourages and celebrates angry action.
Children's "action heroes" and adults' action movies showcase self-righteous retaliation
culminating in violent annihilation of the enemy. Just now in the United States, many radio
call-in programs encourage angry pronouncements against various "thems"-gays, illegal
immigrants, welfare recipients, non-Christians, members of the other political party, and on
and on. Emoting, including against others, is provoked by many TV talk shows. These ex-
cesses are part of our me-first, feel-good era. We are concerned that others should always
be fair to us (me), but we are not concerned with our responsibilities to others. If anger feels
good at the moment, it's justified. Worrying about others' socioeconomic and personal well-
being does not feel good and is eschewed.
These practices fuel racism, homophobia, and so on, when they aim at such identifi-
able groups and when those groups are moved to their own responsive anger. Being angry
places one in a stance that disallows empathy, broader perspective, a sense of belonging to
humanity at large, and being in touch with meanings beyond the immediate situation. Sus-
tained anger leaves one perpetually trying not to recognize that autonomy based on casti-
gation of others is false, empty. Being chronically or repeatedly angry dilutes one's
humanity; at a cultural level, it undermines community and care. Repeated or sustained
anger demoralizes both its source and its object. Demoralized people do not contribute to a
moral society.
The standard literature on prejudice, and the contemporary literatures by feminists,
African-Americans, and so on, strike me as validly pointing to violent words and actions as
being grounded in perceived threats to how one has seen oneself as being a certain kind of
valued person. I recall listening to a man rail against lesbians as not being real women. In the
ensuing lengthy table discussion, which to his surprise included input from a bisexual
woman, he became somber and asked what many people probably wonder less openly: "But
if they can really be romantic with each other and satisfy each other so well sexually, doing
just about everything a man does, how does a man define himself as a sexual man?" I believe
that earnest exploration of such questions may allow this man to continue being a man, with
deeper confidence and without anger at women who choose women as their partners. We
will empower ourselves and our communities to the extent that we cut through self-deceptive
protest and reflect on our own courses, on how they interweave with others' lives, and on
how we might maintain our core goals while sometimes taking modified routes.

Languaging Anger
Our technological Western world is quick to nounize-my term for referring to
processes as things or categories. Examples: learning slowly = being a "retard," or having
a learning disability; solving cognitive tasks quickly = having a high IQ, being an intelli-
gent person. Yes, use of nouns to stand for complex processes and contexts can be ef-
ficient. For example, identifying a patient as "having a major depression, overlaid on a
 120 CONSTANCE T. FISCHER

dependent personality disorder" does immediately orient the involved professionals to

probable history, symptoms and their severity, and treatment range. This efficiency, how-
ever, comes at the cost of attending to process, meanings, contexts, personal choice, and
soon.
When we convert a person's being affected and taking an emotional stand into a con-
struct, such as anger, we don't yet know what we mean in terms of that person's actual life.
When we want to describe a particular person, we should change nouns into situated verbs
and adverbs, thereby describing the person being on his or her way. For example, in a psy-
chological assessment class, we explored possible meanings (from a student's report) of "he
has a lot of anger." From the fuller report and consultation with the author, we generated in-
dividualized sentences, including these:
• William has been quick to become angry when he believed he was being held back
by stereotypes.
• William is accustomed to blaming others' unfairness when he finds himself blocked.
Most often, he has protested vehemently, instead of looking for ways around the ob-
stacle.
From another assessment, we developed the following alternatives to "She has problems ex-
pressing her anger":
• She has been unsure of how to influence others to move out of her way.
• Being afraid that others would punish her for being angry with them, Jennifer in-
stead has often blamed herself for being too passive to get what she wanted.
• However, Jennifer has discovered that when her daughter's welfare is at stake she has
successfully squelched both her inclination to angrily demand her rights and her
usual fearful backing off; instead she has politely but firmly stated Natalie's "needs."
Culturally available concepts and language shape experience. Psychologists can make
an immediate contribution by encouraging use oflanguage that acknowledges one's per-
sonal choices and options, even when angry. We can encourage reflection and responsibil-
ity, rather than validate self-deceptive embrace of self-righteous anger. Note that both
languaging in terms of action and past tense, and including examples of bypassing angry
protest, remind all parties that anger is not an "it" that runs its course through us, and that
instead we can change how we cope with being thwarted.

CLARIFICATIONS AND ELABORATIONS

Many authors have already addressed many aspects of this study's representation of
being angry. For example, Sartre (1975) has discussed emotion as the effort to magically
transform situations; Stevick (1971) has described the perception of unfair blocking; de
Rivera (1976) has pointed to the "the other ought to" dimension of emotion. The contribu-
tion of a phenomenological structural representation is that it portrays the temporal unfold-
ing of a phenomenon as a whole. The portrayal only implies some of its aspects, but the
integrity of the complex whole is respected. From there, we can better appreciate various
authors' in-depth explorations of particular aspects of the phenomenon. We know not to pit
one account against another, but rather to locate the pertinent moments within the structure.
BEING ANGRY REVEALED AS SELF-DECEPTIVE PROTEST 121

For example, we can see several appearances of the "fight or flight" response in my por-
trayal of the structure of being angry. But the structural representation reminds us not to re-
duce being angry to a material, biological reaction; human meanings and bioneurological
processes are co-present even though our language and conceptions separate them.
I do not denigrate the laboratory traditions of natural science. I am saying that such
an approach, geared toward predicting the "behavior" of nonconscious material, is not
suitable for studying uniquely human phenomena. On the other hand, phenomenological
psychology cannot study the goings-on of our material bodies. A phenomenologically
grounded human science psychology, however, can offer a philosophical framework within
which we understand that (I) at this stage in our conceptualizing, we can focus alternately
on lived meanings or on neurobiology with the other as background, and (2) even our nat-
ural science work is in part a construction and not just a revealing of nature in itself. And
yes, of course, qualitative research too, despite its efforts to put aside assumptions, theories,
personal background, and so on, also reflects the particular investigators and their interests,
sensitivities, culture, and times.
Empirical phenomenological analysis of verbal protocols is not the only qualitative
method for investigating how we humans live our worlds. Ethnographic, linguistic, and
other methods are often equally, or more, appropriate (see Denzin & Lincoln, 1994). The
type of analysis presented in this chapter is most appropriate when we are asking what a
phenomenon is-how we experience and participate in that phenomenon such that it is that
phenomenon rather than another.
Let me repeat that although I have emphasized the self-deceptive aspect of being an-
gry, it is no more essential to the structure of being angry than are other discernible aspects.
All are necessary for anger to be anger. I have chosen to highlight the self-deceptive con-
stituent of being angry in order to suggest that the self-righteous urge to obliterate the
blamed blocker does not confer a right to explode. Similarly, I hope that my emphasis on
self-deception will counter the prevailing conception of anger as a force that one can only
release, restrain, or rechannel.
I have not studied the many other ways of being angry (e.g., anger at assaults against
society [Thomas Aquinas' (1964) "right anger"], chronic anger, temper tantrums, or angry
displays intended to intimidate others and to build one's courage). Nor have I reflected suf-
ficiently on the relations to and differences from similar states (such as being irritated, im-
patient, or frustrated). Nevertheless, I have developed some useful distinctions within the
study of emotion, namely, that of finding oneself affected and taking an emotional stance
toward that circumstance. It seems to me that, for example, finding oneself blocked, thrown
back, is "being affected," which is always in terms of meanings for who one had been try-
ing to be, usually only implicitly. For some people, being blocked is an interesting chal-
lenge; for others, it is an unquestioned sign of failure and a signal to quit. For others, who
take up being blocked as an unfair, arbitrary threat to the kind of person they were on their
way to being, the response is to protest vehemently against finding oneself being made
helpless and demeaned. This effort to forcefully remove the offender is an "emotional"
stance. Moreover, in my conception, the quiet responses as well as the angry protest are
emotional stances toward how one was affected. Note that being irritated or impatient can
be both how one finds oneself affected and an ensuing stance toward that circumstance. The
angry protest is always a stance, never a state of being affected. How one is affected can
also be celebrated by an affirmative stance, such as laughter, joyful hugs, or triumphant
 122 CONSTANCE T. FISCHER

shouts of victory. In contrast, despair, for example, can be seen as a resigned stance. Mood
can be seen as our background sense of how our general course is progressing. Our emo-
tionallife is the realm of being affected and taking stances toward that circumstance.
A stance of being angry is not bad in itself. Just as Freud (1936) said that initial anxi-
ety is a signal of danger that should be attended to, so can we regard the urge to protest an-
grily as a signal to take stock of one's journey and options. Even acting out the protest can
sometimes lead to positive transformation of self and situation. It is repeated or sustained,
unexamined protests that can be "bad" for the person and for others.

SUMMARY

This chapter presented a temporal, descriptive, integrated representation of being angry.

I chose to emphasize the defensively self-distracting, self-deceptive, and often self-defeating
aspects of becoming angry, as well as the possibilities for pivoting into responsible optional
courses. My purpose was to counter our culturally accepted notions of angry eruption being
somehow both justified and biologically necessary. I pointed to the interpersonal character of
becoming angry, and to the importance, for individuals and for society, of recognizing that the
angry individual feels, whether focally or vaguely, that the kind of person he or she is trying
to be is threatened. The display of powerful protest belies the person's feeling of being made
helpless and demeaned. Acknowledging this "about which" of anger, which always accompa-
nies precipitating "at which" and the ''toward whom" of the protest, opens the way for under-
standing ourselves and others and for coming to terms with limitations and alternatives.
This chapter illustrated empirical phenomenological research findings, and I hope that
thereby it also has illustrated that this research approach is uniquely appropriate for inves-
tigating what a phenomenon is. The chapter also highlighted some social and personal
transformative possibilities of understanding how humans give and take meaning as they
participate in "what happens to" them.

REFERENCES

Aquinas, T. (1964). Summa theologica (Questions 22-48). New York: McGraw-Hill.

de Rivera, J. (1976). Field theory as human-science: Contributions ofLewin sBerlin Group. New York: Gardner
Press.
Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (1994). Handbook ofqualitative research. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Fischer, C. T. (1996). A humanistic and human science approach to emotion. In C. Magai & S. H. McFadden
(Eds.), Handbook of emotion. adult development. and aging (pp. 67-82). Orlando, FL: Academic Press.
Fischer, C. T., & Wertz, F. J. (1979). Empirical phenomenological analyses of being criminally victimized. In A.
Giorgi, R. Knowles, & D. L. Smith (Eds.), Duquesne studies in phenomenological psychology: Volume III
(pp. 135-158). Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press.
Freud, S. (1936). The problem ofanxiety. New York: Norton.
Giorgi, A. (Ed.). (1985). Phenomenology and psychological research. Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press.
Lang, P. (1995). The emotion probe: Studies of motivation and attention. American Psychologist. 50,372-385.
Sartre, J.-P' (1975). The emotions:Outline ofa theory. Secaucus, NJ: Citadel Press.
Stevick, E. L. (1971). An empirical investigation of the experience of anger. In A. Giorgi, W. F. Fischer, & R. von
Eckartsberg (Eds.), Duquesne studies in phenomenological psychology: Volume I (pp. 132-148). Pittsburgh,
PA: Duquesne University Press.
Tavris, C. (1989). Anger: The misunderstood emotion. New York: Simon & Schuster.
 6

An Empirical-
Phenomenological Investigation
of Being-Ashamed
Damian s. Vallelonga

This chapter presents a formulation of the essential lived structure of being-ashamed de-
rived from an empirical-phenomenological analysis of the descriptions of various subjects'
situated experiences of the phenomenon. The research project and its results, from which
this chapter is derived, were originally reported in my doctoral dissertation (Vallelonga,
1986). It has been ten years since that dissertation was completed and defended, and at least
12 books have been written on shame in the interim (Albers, 1995; Bradshaw, 1988;
Broucek, 1991; Fossum & Mason, 1986; Harper & Hoopes, 1990; Kaufman, 1989; Lewis,
1992; Middleton-Moz, 1990; Nathanson, 1992; Nichols, 1991; Potter-Efron, 1989; Tangney
& Fischer, 1995). Given the publication of so many books (not to mention articles) on the
topic, the reader may legitimately ask if there is anything left to say about this phenomenon.
There is much to say!
The fact is that what affirmed my original idea to study shame (in its undifferentiated
sense) was the discovery in the shame literature of a persistent ambiguity regarding its es-
sential meaning and how it is to be distinguished from cognate phenomena such as embar-
rassment, guilt, anxiety, shyness, and modesty. While progress has been made in the
understanding of shame and the shame-family of phenomena, the situation remains essen-
tially the same today, with widely differing definitions of the meaning of shame and widely
divergent explanations of how it differs from its cognates. Furthermore, except for Miller's
(1985) study of shame and Lindsay-Hartz's studies of shame and guilt (Lindsay-Hartz,

Damian S. Vallelonga • 201 Sherbourne Road, Syracuse, New York 13224.

123
 124 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

1984; Lindsay-Hartz, DeRivera, & Mascolo, 1995), no author has attempted to articulate
the essential structure of the phenomenon from the point of view of the experiencer. In ad-
dition, no one has addressed and unfolded the dialectical interplay between transformations
of self and world or among the three dimensions of lived past, present, and future in the ex-
perience of being-ashamed.
This chapter begins with discussions of (1) the persisting ambiguity concerning the
meaning of shame and (2) the relative absence of the agent's perspective on the experience of
being-ashamed. It then proceeds, fIrst, to an elucidation of the empirical-phenomenological
method I utilized to comprehend the meaning of being-ashamed and, then, to a presentation
of the results of that investigation, that is, the essential structure of the situated experience of
being-ashamed. Since part of the purpose of my original study was to grasp not just the
meaning of being-ashamed, but also how it is related to and differentiated from the other
shame phenomena, the chapter then presents a discussion of how being-ashamed differs from
being-embarrassed and being-guilty. Finally, at the end of the chapter, I explicate how it is
that shame entails such persistent ambiguity, by explaining what I call the "equipotentiality
of a shame-situation" and the role of the dialectical dimension in the shame experience.

PERSISTING AMBIGUITY OF SHAME

Multiple Definitions of Shame

As was stated above, a quick glance through the literature reveals a multiplicity of de-
finitions of shame. Many of the differences in these definitions have to do with whether
shame involves the presence of another person or not. Most acknowledge that shame, em-
barrassment, guilt, shyness, and the other shame phenomena entail some form of reference
to exposure of the self. Authors differ, however, on whether that exposure is intrapersonal
(i.e., to oneself) or interpersonal (i.e., to an other), as well as on several other points. The
following discussion illustrates some of the varied definitions of shame.
Shame is variously characterized as: (1) a phenomenon of primarily or exclusively in-
terpersonal exposure plus public disesteem similar to embarrassment, humiliation, or disgrace
(e.g., Albers, 1995 [his "disgrace-shame"]; Broucek, 1991; Lewis, 1971; Schneider, 1977;
Straus, 1966); (2) a phenomenon of primarily int'nlpersonal exposure and self-disesteem, but
with some reference to interpersonal exposure (e.g., Fossum & Mason, 1986; Harper &
Hoopes, 1990; Kaufman, 1974, 1989; Lindsay-Hartz, 1984; Lindsay-Hartz et al, 1995; Lynd,
1958; Middleton-Moz, 1990; Miller, 1985; Nathanson, 1992; Potter-Efron, 1989); (3) a phe-
nomenon of either inter- or intrapersonal exposure or both equally (e.g., Edwards, 1976;
K. W. Fischer & Tangney, 1995); (4) a form of anxiety (Freud, 1962; Mead, 1950); (5) a phe-
nomenon prohibiting certain sexual acts (e.g., Albers, 1995; Freud, 1953a); (6) an attitude pro-
tective of privacy in general (similar to modesty) (e.g., Merleau-Ponty, 1962; Scheler, 1957;
Shaver, 1976); (7) an attitude forestalling social disapproval (similar to shyness) (Darwin,
1965; Izard, 1977); and (8) the experience of the exposure of one's own privacy, particularly
one's bodily privacy (Freud, 1953b; Merleau-Ponty, 1962; Scheler, 1957; Schneider, 1977).
It was my impression, upon reviewing the literature on "shame," that while authors use
the single label "shame" to denominate the realm in question, what they are actually de-
scribing or discussing is several related phenomena, among which are the emotions of be-
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 125

ing-ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated, and disgraced, as well as the attitudes of modesty,

shyness, and tact/discretion. The question that arises from the fact that shame appears to
have so many faces is this: What about the phenomenon permits it to appear in so many dif-
ferent ways to different people? This is one of the questions that I posed when I did my in-
vestigation of being-ashamed.

Multiple Differentiations of Shame versus Embarrassment and Guilt

In addition to the lack of consensus on the essential meaning of shame, the literature
also shows considerable disagreement regarding how shame is differentiated from embar-
rassment and guilt. The following are some of the discriminations made between embar-
rassment and shame by various authors. They are said to differ as: (1) a potential versus an
actual negative judgment by the other (Freud, 1953b; Sattler, 1965), (2) a part of an affect
versus the whole affect (Harper & Hoopes, 1990; Lewis, 1971; Lynd, 1958), (3) an inter-
personal versus an intrapersonal exposure (Dann, 1977; Lewis, 1995), (4) a less versus a
more intense/severe experience (Buss, 1980; Lewis, 1992, 1995), and (5) a lack of concur-
rence versus a concurrence with the other's negative judgment (Solomon, 1976). In addi-
tion, multiple authors (e.g., Izard, 1977; Schneider, 1977; Stierlin, 1974) declare that there
is no difference between embarrassment and shame and thus explicitly equate the two; sev-
eral other authors implicitly equate shame and embarrassment (e.g., Broucek, 1991; Isen-
berg, 1949; Riezler, 1943).
As stated above, a similar lack of consensus also exists in the literature regarding how
shame is differentiated from guilt. Thus, shame and guilt are distinguished: (1) as interper-
sonal events versus intrapersonal ones (Emde & Oppenheim, 1995; Morano, 1973), (2) as
involving a defect/failure versus a transgression (Friesen, 1979; Kaufman, 1989), (3) as a
negative reference to one's self versus a negative reference to one's deedlbehavior (e.g.,
Bradshaw, 1988; Fossum & Mason, 1986; Harper & Hoopes, 1990; Kaufman, 1974; Lind-
say-Hartz, 1984; Lindsay-Hartz et aI., 1995; Mascolo & Fischer, 1995; Miller, 1985;
Nathanson, 1992; Potter-Efron, 1989), (4) as fear of the social group versus a fear of the in-
trojected parents (Mead, 1950), and (5) as a part versus the whole (Becker, 1968).
Further, the lack of consensus regarding the meaning of shame is not restricted to the
literature. It emerged among my pilot study subjects as well. Thus, of 54 subjects who con-
tributed a description of being "ashamed," 15 described an experience of intrapersonal ex-
posure plus objectification only, 13 described an experience of interpersonal exposure plus
objectification only, and 26 described an experience entailing both with a focus on one or
the other.
Such a radical disagreement concerning the fundamental meaning of shame loudly
proclaims the continuing need for a definitive exposition of its essential lived structure. I
believe that the results of my earlier empirical-phenomenological study of being-ashamed
(Vallelonga, 1986) provide such a definitive exposition.

Bilevel Ambiguity of Shame

L~wis (1992) aptly and accurately speaks of the "chameleon nature" of shame. How-
ever, the ambiguity of the term shame and the confusion over its usage in the literature are
due not only to a multiplicity of specific referents (Le., the "shame variants"), but also to a
 126 DAMIAN S. VALlElONGA

confusion of logical types or levels. In effect, the term "shame" is used to denote both a
class of cognate phenomena and the specific members of that class. Thus, Lewis (1971),
Lynd (1958), and Miller (1985) explicitly characterize shame as a "cluster" or "family" or
"nonunitary" category but at the same time choose one of the specific members of the class
as the "real shame" (without any empirical justification for doing so), or they blend the fea-
tures of all the specific shame-phenomena (such as being-ashamed, embarrassment, guilt,
shyness, and modesty) into a single omnibus-type concrete phenomenon. Lindsay-Hartz
(1984, p. 704) recognized this blending of several shame-phenomena into one when she de-
scribed Lewis (1971) as studying "a complex that can only be termed 'shame-embarrass-
ment-humiliation-shyness.' "
Thus, on one logical level, shame is a generic phenomenon. This "generic shame" is
either the class constituted by the possession of common features by multiple specific
members of the class or the common features possessed by each member of the class.
Tomkins (1963), Kaufman (1989), and Nathanson (1992) all identify their "shame affect"
(i.e., the lowering of the head, the averting of the gaze, and blushing) as the feature that all
the specific shame variants share in common (For a description of my candidates for the
common features, see Vallelonga, 1986, pp. 769-771.)
On the other logical level, "shame" has been used to denominate each of the specific,
concrete shame variants including being-guilty. On this level, "shame" has been used to de-
nominate each of the phenomena that share the features of the common denominator and
that, together, form the shame family. On this level, modesty, shyness, being-ashamed, be-
ing-embarrassed, being-humiliated, and the like are all indiscriminately referred to and de-
nominated simply as "shame" by one author or another. In addition, "shame" is used on this
level of specific variants to refer, not just to affects or emotions, but also to "attitudes."
As a result of the confusion created by the bilevel use of "shame," I chose to refer to
the specific, concrete phenomenon as being-ashamed or being-ashamed-of-oneself and to
use the term "shame" to refer to either the generic phenomenon, that is, the shame-family
(i.e., all of the shame-phenomena taken as a group), or the common denominator of all the
shame-phenomena or the topic as it is referred to in the literature. This was also done to
convey that the phenomenon being described (i.e., an affect/emotion) entails the interaction
of an embodied subject and his or her world over the course of time. In other words, it
points to lived temporality, a feature that is absent from most of the descriptions of shame
in the literature with the possible exception ofK. W Fischer and Tangney's (1995) "proto-
typical script" for shame and Lindsay-Hartz's (1984) "structures" of shame and guilt. But,
even K. W Fischer and Tangney and Lindsay-Hartz fail to grasp and articulate the dialecti-
cal relationships among the three dimensions of lived time and how they determine the un-
folding of a typical "shame situation."
Besides the existence of multiple definitions of shame and multiple discriminations
between shame and embarrassment and between shame and guilt, the ambiguity of shame
is further revealed in the fact that certain authors use "shame" in several distinct even if re-
lated senses. Thus, Freud, at different times, uses "shame" to denote: an attitude that pro-
hibits specific sexual behaviors (Freud, 1953a), a self-consciousness about bodily exposure
(Freud, 1953b), and a form of anxiety in the face of public exposure and ridicule (Freud,
1962). Lewis (1971) and Mead (1950) also used "shame" in a similar multivalent fashion.
In addition, many authors (e.g., Ausubel, 1955; Benedict, 1946; Lynd, 1958) use "shame"
solely to denote affects, while multiple authors (e.g., Albers, 1995; Bradshaw, 1988; Lewis,
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING·ASHAMED 127

1971; Riezler, 1943; Schneider, 1977; Straus, 1966) characterize "shame" as having both
an attitude- and an affect-like structure.
All of these varied usages of "shame" indicate that, as a label, "shame" is inherently
ambiguous or multivalent. Yet no author succeeds in clarifying what makes it so. Any proj-
ect to comprehend the meaning of shame must explain what is the ground for that ambigu-
ity. Furthermore, no author-not even Lindsay-Hartz (1984), who performed a qualitative
analysis similar to my own-describes the temporal unfolding of a shame-situation, that is,
how a person moves from conditions, through experience, to resolution in the living of a sit-
uation of being-ashamed. Further, no author articulates the relations between a person's
present experience and his or her lived past and lived future, especially not in terms of
movement into related/cognate affects.

Failure to Empirically Access the Agent's Perspective

With the literature on shame, we are confronted with the anomaly of multiple authors
seeking to explicate the essential meaning of an experiential phenomenon without attempt-
ing either systematically or rigorously (i.e., empirically) to gain explicit access to the
agent's or experiencer's perspective. Only Davitz (1969), Miller (1985), and Lindsay-Hartz
(1984) elicit from subjects descriptions of aspects of shame. However, only Miller and
Lindsay-Hartz solicit descriptions from others of their actual situated experiences of shame
and allow these descriptions to constitute the raw data from which they derive their essen-
tial definitions of shame.
Several authors (e.g., Becker, 1968; Buss, 1980; Izard, 1977) conduct experiments
on shame but not to determine its essential meaning. They derive their definition of
shame from a combination of literature review and generally covert "individual phenom-
enological reflection" or what some might call "armchair reflections." They use their ex-
periments, not to define the phenomenon, but to correlate their elsewhere-derived
definition with other phenomena. Davitz (1964) is the only author who uses the experi-
mental method to derive his definition of shame, but his definition lacks any inherent
structure and is therefore of little real value for our purposes. There is no sense of how the
phenomenon is lived.
Further, no other author surveyed, except for Lindsay-Hartz (1984), comes close to ar-
ticulating a detailed structure of how shame is lived. They do not identify the concrete lived
structure of being-ashamed or how the experience of being-ashamed unfolds over time.
Lindsay-Hartz's (1984) study does identify four "structural aspects" of shame: (1) the in-
struction or "desire to act in a particular way" involved in shame; (2) the transformation or
"specific way in which [the] emotion transforms the experience of self, other, and environ-
ment"; (3) the situation or "central event characteristic of the emotion"; and (4) thefonction
or the manner in which the emotion supports and furthers certain goals and values of the ex-
periencer (p. 690). Still, while Lindsay-Hartz's study is immensely informative, even she ul-
timately fails to articulate all the various situational and experiactional constituents of the
experience of being-ashamed and how they are interrelated.
In addition, Buss (1980) and Izard (1977) address the conditions for or consequences
of shame, but no one describes how any person moves from conditions, through experience,
to resolution in an unfolding movement. Various authors give us a slice of the process, but
no one gives us the whole picture.
128 DAMIAN S. VAllElONGA

This failure of the literature to articulate the agent's perspective relative to shame as
well as to elucidate its lived structure (including its lived temporality) disclosed the need for
a systematic and empirical investigation of the lived structure of shame. A study was
needed that would enable us to understand the lived meaning of shame as well as to do so
in a manner that could be accepted by others as having that level of veridicality character-
istic of scientific work.

RESEARCH METHOD

Although my original research project began as an investigation of the experience of

shame, it eventually evolved to a study of the experiences of both shame and embarrass-
ment. In retrospect, it is clear that the original choice to investigate the meaning of shame
by articulating the lived structures of both being-ashamed and being-embarrassed was
serendipitous. Without the ability to compare these two cognate phenomena, I would have
been unable to truly understand the meaning of either because, as we shall see below, both
phenomena entail the experiences of interpersonal exposure and of objectification. Com-
paring these two with each other, as well as with being-guilty, enabled me to see not only
the structures of each, but also how they differed from and how they interacted with each
other, that is, how they were related to each other. Nevertheless, while my original study
formally encompassed both being-ashamed and being-embarrassed, this chapter focuses
primarily on the structure of being-ashamed and on the analyses performed to arrive at its
articulation. This section describes the qualitatively analytical method I utilized to compre-
hend the situated experience of being-ashamed.
In order to capture (1) the experiential dimension of being-ashamed and (2) the tem-
porally unfolding dialectic between the person's experience and behavior, on one hand, and
the circumstances and events of the situation, on the other, a formal study was initiated uti-
lizing an empirical-phenomenological research method. Besides requiring me to bracket
my preconceptions about the phenomenon, it also meant gathering multiple descriptions of
actual situated experiences of the phenomenon (the agent perspective) and analyzing them
in a rigorous and systematic fashion to arrive at the general structure of the phenomenon.
The particular method I used in this study is a personal variation of the qualitative method
of analysis elucidated by W F. Fischer (1974, 1989), Giorgi (1975), and von Eckartsberg
(1977). A complete description of my research method, along with illustrations of the vari-
ous steps, can be found in Vallelonga (1986, pp. 174-281).
Before beginning my formal research project, I conducted two pilot studies. In the
first, I solicited descriptions of the "experience of shame" from two subjects and submit-
ted one of the descriptions to a five-step formal analysis that resulted in a "preliminary"
characterization of the general structure of being-ashamed. The following is that initial un-
derstanding of being-ashamed.
Being-ashamed means to undergo a perception which suddenly transforms the meaning of
how one is behaving in a situation and of who one is in and through that behavior. It means per-
ceiving that one is doing (or not doing) what, according to one's projects (values), one should not
and/or must not do (or should and/or must do) and being-guilty. It means also perceiving in what
one is doing (or not doing) (and, therefore, in one's guiltiness) that one is (or is not) who one, ac-
cording to one's lived self-projects (thematic or not), one must not be (or must be). Being-ashamed,
thus, is the sudden perception, in one's behavior, ofa discrepancy between who one is (or is not)
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 129

and who one must not be (or must be) according to one's self-projects (thematic or unthematic, but
usually unthematic). Being-ashamed also means experiencing (as one assumes a retrospective
stance) remorse or regret and wishing the past had been different and also, reciprocally (and in a
mode of mutual implication), experiencing (as one looks into the future) the call to transform the
present either by escaping the situation or by undoing the shamefulness. Since one is already ex-
posed nakedly to oneself, being-ashamed also means experiencing the world and others as mirror-
ing back one's shamefulness to oneself.

When one compares this structure of being-ashamed with the one elucidated by the
end of my investigation, one can easily see that my understanding of the meaning of being-
ashamed evolved over time, as it should have. It was also clear from the very first analysis,
however, that the negative transformation of one's present self that was entailed in being-
ashamed called for dialectically correlative negative transformations, on one hand, of one's
present world (in being-embarrassed) and, on the other, of one's lived past and one's lived
future.
In my next pilot study, I asked 56 community college students to give me descriptions
of situations in which they experienced being-ashamed. The question posed to them is the
same as that used with the subjects in the formal research project (see below). The follow-
ing is one of the descriptions received in that pilot study:
I have almost all my life been ashamed of my weight. For my life, except for a period of one
year, I have always been overweight. I know I could have done something to change this, but I guess
it was some kind of defense thing for me. I was always ashamed to put on a bathing suit, wear hal-
ter tops, etc. Any kind of clothing that shows off too much of me is bad. I really have a skinny-ori-
ented mind. To me, the skinnier the better. And since I have never been this skinny, except for one
year of my life, it's really been a hassle. I am ashamed to have anyone touch me because of this fat.
I have since decided to do something about this and am on a diet. I am losing weight; and I will
continue to stay on my diet until I am, in my mind, skinny enough. Like I said, this problem has an
easy solution and I have finally decided to solve it, thus ending my being ashamed.

One of the results of this second pilot study was the discovery that being-ashamed was
used sometimes to denote an experience of intrapersonal exposure plus disesteem and
sometimes to denote an experience of interpersonal exposure plus disesteem. That pilot
study confirmed for me the belief that shame possesses an inherent ambiguity that called
for explanation.
After these pilot studies in which I formulated the question and some of the problems
associated with it, I embarked on the formal study. The first phase of the research consisted
in gathering the raw data. I relied on four subjects (two male and two female) to provide
these data. Each subject was asked to describe (in writing and with as much detail as possi-
ble): (1) a recent situation in which he or she experienced being-ashamed; (2) how he or she
became aware of his or her being-ashamed, as well as what he or she experienced and did in
that situation; and (3) how he or she passed through or got over that experience. Subsequent
interviews (about an hour in length) were held with the purpose of expanding on the mate-
rial presented in the written descriptions, filling in gaps, and clarifying ambiguities. The
transcripts of these interviews, taken together with the written protocols, constituted the raw
data, which were then submitted to systematic reflective analysis in the second major phase
of the research process.
Two distinct but similar modes of analysis were employed. These modes differed in
thoroughness, but each aimed at distilling from the specific situated experiences the gen-
eral structure of the topic phenomenon (i.e., those patterns of interrelated constituents with-
out which the phenomenon would cease to be what it is).
130 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

Mode I of Analysis
The first mode of analysis was used with one of the four subjects and was quite
lengthy and thorough. It entailed five stages comprising seven levels (A to G). The first
stage entailed the constitution of the primary data (level A). It involved breaking down the
written protocol into manageable meaning units (AI) and weaving into them the materials
from the interview transcription (A2). The following is Sl 's complete written description
of her experience of being-ashamed (and embarrassed), along with the division into mean-
ingunits.
111 The event which led to an acute feeling of being ashamed on my part occurred recently ...
as I was taking my daughter to nursery school at the YMCA.... 121After I had left my daughter at
the school and was in the process of trying to back out of an unusually crowded parking lot, I had
the misfortune to accidentally back into the side of another proximately parked car. 131Although
there was a fairly loud crashing sound at the moment of impact, I still was naive enough to hope
that I had caused only a slight, barely noticeable dent in the other car. /4INot taking the time to look,
I boldly proceeded to drive away from the scene of the accident. 15/However, to my great chagrin
and embarrassment, before I got more than a couple of yards, I noticed a rather obviously dis-
traught middle-aged woman staring rather intently at me from the doorway of the "Y." Alongside
her stood the kindly old janitor of the "Y," whom I had known and been friendly with for several
years. It was clear to me that both had heard the "crash" from inside the "Y" and that I had been
"caught in the act" of not only hitting another car but also of attempting to leave the scene of the
accident. My first reaction was one of complete embarrassment and total dismay at "having been
caught." /7blAnd, at this point, I was still hopeful that I could "save face" by pretending that I didn't
know I damaged the lady's car. 16/Within seconds the owner of the other car and the concerned jan-
itor were standing in front of me questioning me as to where I had hit the car, what I had done to it,
etc. /7a/ Instead of admitting what I had done and pointing to a fairly long and quite noticeable dent
above the car door, I continued to pretend to myself and the others that I didn't think I had done
anything. 18/1 realize now that, if I let myself admit to damaging the other car, that I would also have
to admit to an even greater "sin," that of leaving the scene of the accident. 191Another factor that in-
creased my embarrassment and led me to try to protect my integrity was that I felt the janitor knew
that I was a minister's wife and, although he might be able to accept my behavior if I were an ordi-
nary "Jane Doe," he certainly could not accept it from 1. w., the wife of the reverend from ...
church. /l O/Finally, when the janitor noticed the dent and pointed it out to the lady owner of the car,
the "game was up" Ill/but I still tried to minimize it, saying, "That should be easy to fix." She didn't
agree with me and proceeded to inquire further as to my name, address and automobile insurance,
all-the-time carefully writing everything down. /121 guess I was somewhat relieved that things were
now all "out in the open" and I cooperated fully. 113IHowever, I believe I was still angry at her for
"catching" and embarrassing me. 114/Jt wasn't until after I got back in my car and proceeded on my
way that the full impact of what I had done-and or tried to do-hit me. At this point, the strong
feeling of embarrassment that I had had was replaced by an even more uncomfortable feeling of
shame and self-loathing. "How could I do such a thing?" I asked myself. How could I, who claim
to value honesty so much and who am so critical of others who fail to admit wrongdoing, be so
recklessly and carelessly dishonest? 115/As I continued driving to my next appointment (which
happened to be a trip to the beauty parlor), the feelings deepened and the more central question of
"What kind of a person am I?" became predominant in my being. !16/Concomitant with my feel-
ing of shame was an increasing semi-fear and dread of telling my husband about the accident and
how it happened. For I knew that I would have to "confess" to someone, not only what happened
(the accident), but how I reacted (my dishonesty). I was definitely concerned with what he would
think of me too. /I 71As I sat in the beauty shop trying to deal with these disturbing feelings, it oc-
curred to me that I must come to grips with this double standard that I obviously cling to: of being
harsh with others and easy on myself as far as morality is concerned. Should I try harder to live up
to the demands I make of others or should I be less critical of others and more understanding of
their humanness even as I am of myself? 1181As I drove home, I pondered over how to tell my hus-
band about this embarrassing and shameful experience. I finally decided that to do it immediately
would be the best way-and in the final analysis, the least painful. 119/This I did. My husband re-
sponded with a wry smile and a small shake of the head which indicated to me that, although he
wasn't pleased with what had happened, he understood that it could happen to anybody. 120/1 felt
quite relieved and my intense feelings of embarrassment and shame were lessened to a great de-
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 131

gree./2lIIn general, I find that, when I do something of which I am ashamed, I often seek out
someone to talk to who I feel will be understanding. 122/1 am unable to forgive myself unless some-
one else forgives me first. I conclude from this entire experience that I am too other-directed-that
I care more about what others think about me than what I think of myself.

Level A2 entailed taking each of the subject's statements from the oral interview and
weaving it into the written protocol at the most relevant spot to form a continuously un-
folding story of the subject's situated experience. This story constituted the primary data for
the subsequent stages of the analysis.
The second stage of the analysis consisted of the first analytical transformation of the
primary data through an expansive process of explication and translation (levels B and C).
Level B entailed my translating the narrative from the first to the third person and the sub-
ject's everyday language into more essential, structural language. In it I also began the
process of chronologically ordering the data into the various scenes that together form a co-
herent, undirectionally unfolding psychological story. Following are excerpts from level B
of the analysis ofSl 's protocol.
S I gets back into her car and proceeds on her way. As she is driving, the full impact of what
she had done or tried to do hits her suddenly and all at once. The strong feeling of embarrassment
which she has had is replaced, at this point, by an even more uncomfortable feeling of shame and
self-loathing that overwhelms her. She asks herself, "How could I do such a thing? How could I,
who claim to value honesty so much and who am so critical of others who fail to admit wrong-
doing, be so recklessly and carelessly dishonest?"
Now that she has left the other woman and the janitor and is alone in her car, she feels able to
face herself and be honest with herself. She feels freed to face herself because she no longer has to
worry about what the others think of her or what their reaction is going to be. She no longer has to
protect herself.... The reason for the rationalizations is gone. She feels free, now, to come to grips
with herself and to admit completely to herself what she had done....
SI is ashamed of herself on several grounds. First of all, she is ashamed of her boldness in
leaving the scene of the accident and not being willing to take responsibility for it and for her ac-
tions. Secondly, she is ashamed of being so recklessly and carelessly dishonest....
Her recognition of her hypocrisy sweeps over her and she is ashamed. This is experienced as
a "moment of truth" when her conscience tells her that she can no longer continue to hide from her-
self and when she permits herself to recognize what she had done and who she is .... Once the
process of owning up begins, she realizes that there is no way of stopping it and she now allows it
to go forward to the end of admitting completely not only to others but also to herself what she had
done and who she is....
S I attends to the significance of her deeds for revealing who she is as a person. In the moment
of being-ashamed, SI focuses on her self, on her "inner being" and on the "core of her being"--on
her "character." In perceiving the self-revelatory character of her deeds, she is radically disillu-
sioned and disgusted with the self she perceives herself to be "really." SI makes sense of her
shameful deeds as revealing that she is not the person that she wants to be and has pretended her-
self to be. In fact, she sees herself as falling far short of being the kind of person that she has
wanted to be. While SI has always and actually believed herself to be honest, responsible, caring
and courageous enough to face the facts and admit when she is wrong, she now painfully discov-
ers herself to be dishonest (hypocritical), irresponsible, recklessly uncaring, and without courage.
Sl describes this revelation as a shattering of her self-image. Sl experiences this realization as a
moment of total self-awareness (i.e., exposure to herself). She experiences this as a coming in touch
with what she "really" is.

Level C continued the process of translating. But more important, in Level C I expli-
cated the subject's text so as to comprehend the described events as fully as possible. This
constituted the hermeneutical phase of the analytical process. It entailed (1) an explication
of what was implicit, (2) a major translation into psychological language (Le., a further
stripping away of details and particulars), (3) a commentary explaining why I was inter-
preting the text in a particular way, and (4) a series of reflections triggered by the data. This
132 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

process of expanding the data before condensing it (through elimination of the irrelevant
and the redundant) is my own personal variation of the standard enactment of the phenom-
enological method. Following are excerpts from the level C analysis of S1's protocol:
Thus, in reflecting back, 8 I recognizes several discrepancies on the basis of which she is
guilty and ashamed of herself. First of all, 81 realizes that, although she was called (by her
value/self-project to be an "honest and responsible person") to stop after the accident and assume
liability for the damages caused, she instead boldly proceeded to leave the scene of the accident in
order not to assume liability for the damages. Furthermore, in the recognition of this transgression
of her still-affirmed value and, especially in the recognition of the excessive ("outre'') manner (i.e.,
with boldness) in which she has transgressed that value, 81 recognizes that she is the person that
she must not be according to her lived self-projects. In other words, while 81 desires ("wants'') to
be an "honest and responsible person" and, therefore, experiences the consequent call ("ought'') to
stop and assume responsibility for the damages, it is also clear that she must not be boldly (Le., so
unhesitantly and so callously) irresponsible.... Furthermore, 8 I recognizes, in these further trans-
gressions also, and especially in their excessive quality ("so recklessly," "so carelessly:' "so long',),
that she is the person she must not be. Thus, while 8 I wants to be an "honest and responsible per-
son," she must not be a person who is so recklessly and so carelessly dishonest for so long in doing
something which will harm another person....
In other words, 8 I painfully recognizes several discrepancies between what she did and what
she was called to do by one or more of her values/self-projects (and 81 is guilty in these recogni-
tions). Furthermore, in each of the above painfully-recognized discrepancies and, especially, in a
certain excessive quality characteristic of each, 8 I even more painfully recognizes a further dis-
crepancy between who she actually is (as revealed in her deeds) and who, according to her already
lived values/self-projects, she must not be (in this recognition ... 81 is ashamed of herself). 81,
therefore, does attend to the significance of her deeds for revealing who she is as a person....

The third stage consisted of the second analytical transformation of the primary data
through a condensing process leading to situated structures of the phenomenon (levels D
and E). In level D, I began the process of eliminating whatever details were irrelevant to un-
derstanding the experience of being-ashamed. I also separated out the overlapping, inter-
twined, and interconnected experiences of being-ashamed and being-embarrassed, both of
which several subjects (like S1) described within the same situation. I also delineated mul-
tiple instances of being-ashamed if they were given within a single subject's description.
The function oflevel E was to identify the situated structure of each instance of being-
ashamed described (through a further condensation of level D) and the organization of the
constituents within the threefold temporal framework of any affective situation-that is, the
"becoming-phase," the "being-phase," and the "getting over-phase." Following are excerpts
from the level E analysis of S I 's protocol:
The Being-Phase of 81's 8econd Instance of Being-Ashamed-of-Herse1f(Le., the core of the
"shameful" situation-the occurrence of 81's being affected in the specific mode of being-
ashamed-of-herself).
#1 While 81 experiences the spontaneous impulse to avoid reflecting on her transgressions,
she permits herself to do so, despite its unpleasantness, in order to appreciate fully the personal
significance of her deeds. #2 In reflecting back on or thematizing her being-guilty, 8 I not only
thematizes the discrepancy between what she had actually done and what she had been called by
one of her values to do or not to do, but she also recognizes the excessive ("outre") manner in
which she has transgressed her value. #3 At the same time, 81 shifts her focus from the "doing"-
dimension to the ''being''-dimension (from what she has done to who she is or is not). 8he sees
this "being"-dimension enacted in or revealed by her deeds. (This shift is expressed/enacted in a
shift from a focus on verbs to one on adjectives in 81's worded consciousness---e.g.,from "to
stop" or ''to leave" to being "callous," "irresponsible," "dishonest," "hypocritical"). Thus, in both
realizing/thematizing the excessive manner in which she has transgressed her still-affirmed
value/project and in shifting her focus from the "doing"-dimension to the ''being''-dimension, #4
8 I painfully recognizes that she is the person she must not be according to her lived (but not nec-
essarily thematized) self-projects. In other words, 8 I painfully recognizes a further discrepancy in
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 133

"being," i.e., a discrepancy between who she is (as revealed/enacted in her deeds) and who she
must not be according to her lived self-projects. In this recognition S I begins the transformation
into being-ashamed.
#7 However, along with the recognition of this failure-in-being (entailed in the discrepancy-
in-being), SI performs a movement of reduction whereby she defines herself (either explicitly or
implicitly) as being only this (already generalized and decontextualized) negative face/self-as be-
ing only this failure-in-being. This movement of reduction is experienced by SI as a coming in
touch with her "real self" beneath deceptive appearances. #8 Before this abstract, decontextualized
negative face/selfwhich SI had reductively defined herself to be, SI is disgusted/sickened. She
also loatheslhates/contemns this exclusively negative self she has discovered/made herself to be.
Thus, SI spontaneously (and on both a pre-reflective/corporeal and an affective/emotionallevel)
recoils from and rejects as repulsive this negative face/self.

The fourth stage consisted of the third analytical transformation of the primary data
through a further condensing process leading to the formulation of the general structure of
the phenomenon (level F). This entailed teasing out from the situated structures those cir-
cumstances and events that were peculiar to the particular subject's experience and those
that were characteristic of all such experiences. It also aimed at interrelating those essential
and universal constituents into an unfolding gestalt to form the general structure. This gen-
eral structure was the goal and final result of the analytical process. Following is a brief se-
lection from that lengthy general structure:
The living of the two movements of generalization and decontextua1ization (in self-dislike and
self-disgust) and of the third movement of reduction (in self-hatred) constitutes a partial or com-
plete negative transformation of one s present self or personality. The experience of this negative
transformation of one's self constitutes the core of the experience of being-ashamed-of-oneself (in
all three modes).
In the light of the above, it is clear that that-about-which-one is ashamed (as the phrase, "be-
ing-ashamed-of-oneself," literally suggests) is-in all three modes-one's self or identity or being
or personality, as it exists in one s own eyes. It is one's own private self/identityibeing/personality,
as it were. In addition, that which is at stake or in question in all three modes of being-ashamed is
the worth of this private self. Furthermore, essential to all three modes of being-ashamed-of-
oneself is the implicit re-affirmation or retention of the privative self-project which one recognizes
is unfulfilled or violated in one's negatively-valued or absolutely-negatively-valued behavior or
characteristics.
In simply disvaluing or absolutely negatively valuing a thematized particular behavior or char-
acteristic of one's "proprium," as well as either a partiCUlar feature of one's personality or one's
entire (reduced) personality, one simultaneously experiences these aspects of one's e;dstence as to-
be-kept-hidden (or secret)1'rom-Others, especially from those Others whom one does not want to
disesteem one. Such disvalued or absolutely-negatively-valued features of the "doing"-, "having"-
and/or "being"-dimensions constitute the "shameful" in one's existence. Furthermore, in (and as
another face of) the negative transformation of these personal realities into lived secrets, one im-
mediately experiences being-self-consciously-embarrassed (or being-embarrassed-over-potential-
exposure). In other words, correlative to the negative transformation of one's present self, either
into a partially deficient self (the self-dislike and self-disgust modes) or into a totally deficient self
(the self-hatred mode), one experiences the spontaneous correlative negative transformation of
one s circumambient world into a now potentially seeing-into and disesteeming world. The experi-
ence (i.e., felt perception) of this correlative negative transformation of one's present world is one's
being-self-consciously-embarrassed; and it is lived as one's being vulnerable, conspicuous and,
even, porous.

The fifth and last stage was a purely illustrative one (level G). It presented a synoptic
view of each subject's entire affective situation, and a sketching out of the temporal un-
folding of each subject's affective situation across both dimensions of experiential and
chronological time. I performed this step in order to highlight the various dialectics that
transpired. I refer the reader to my original study (Vallelonga, 1986) for examples of the
level G analysis.
134 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

Mode II of Analysis
The second mode of analysis was used with the remaining three subjects. It was an ab-
breviated analysis and involved only four stages instead of five. It entailed only the consti-
tution of the primary data (level A3) and a single, formal but summary level of analysis
(level A4), along with levels F and G.
The second mode of analysis was not used to determine the general structure. I felt
that the rich data contained in S1's protocol provided enough material to disclose the gen-
eral structure of being-ashamed. The main function of these additional analyses was instead
to demonstrate that I had already achieved redundancy in my analysis of S1's protocol and
also that the general structure was in fact an essential and universal one. The second mode
also had an additional function-to provide a pool of material suitable for illustrating each
of the constituents and for sketching out a range of some of the possible variations on the
general structure.

RESEARCH RESULTS

1. General Structure of Being-Ashamed

The outcome of the phenomenological analysis described above was the elucidation of
the general structure of being-ashamed. In this section, I will present that empirically de-
rived general structure, illustrate it with reference to the protocols, and compare it to the
general structures of being-embarrassed and being-guilty (from Vallelonga, 1986).
In the course of this investigation, it became clear that the "being-ashamed" that the
subjects had described was more accurately denominated as being-ashamed-of-oneself. It is
the structure of shame in this sense, therefore, that was elucidated in this project.
As mentioned earlier, one of the results of this study was the articulation of structures
that capture the lived temporality of the experience of being-affected in a particular situa-
tion. The structures I arrived at are those of living through certain situations, and they have
a threefold temporal format of(1) "becoming," (2) "being," and (3) "getting-over" (i.e., of
waxing, peaking, lind waning) that is called for by the unfolding character of the situations
themselves. The structures I articulated are thus not those of atemporal, decontextualized
moments. They are the structures of the temporally unfolding dialectical interaction be-
tween embodied subjects and their particular situations.
What was discovered in the course of analyzing the data was that the principal mo-
ments in the total affective situation were constituted by dialectically related transforma-
tions of past, present, and future self and past, present, and future world. The elucidation of
these dialectical relationships among the various negative transformations of self and world
across the three dimensions of lived time constituted one of the principal achievements of
the study and provided the foundation for understanding the interrelationships among the
various shame affects.
The analysis of the protocols from both the pilot studies and the formal research dis-
closed that "shame" is used, with considerable confusion, to denote two categories of phe-
nomena: those in which interpersonal exposure plus objectification are focal and dominant
and those in which intrapersonal exposure plus disvaluation are focal and dominant. The
data revealed that being-embarrassed and being-ashamed are, respectively, the chief, but
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 135

not exclusive, exemplars of each category. Following is an abridged version of the general
structure or "whatness" of being-ashamed that I arrived at in this research:

A. Becoming-Phase
The becoming-phase of being-ashamed is constituted by the possession or creation of
some feature of one's existence which one personally disvalues. One can be ashamed on ac-
count of any perceived failure either in moral or nonmoral "doing," on account of some per-
sonal characteristic/possession, or on account of what happens to one. The becoming-phase also
includes the occurrence of the occasion for one's being-ashamed, i.e., of the circumstance or
event which effects the thematization of the discrepancy in "doing" or "having" which in tum
precipitates the awareness of the discrepancy in "being" which constitutes the being-phase of
being-ashamed.

Subjects in both the pilot and formal studies clearly demonstrated that one can be
ashamed on account of almost anything. In other words, one can give negative self-defini-
tional significance to almost anything connected to the self. Thus, one can experience self-
disesteem on account of what one has. The subjects described being ashamed on account of
such things as bad teeth, a large bust, and a poor, working-class background.
One can also be ashamed on account of what one does or has done. Subjects talked of
being ashamed on account of getting poor or failing grades in school, on account ofmak-
ing love to one girl while engaged to another, on account of getting drunk and getting ar-
rested, and on account of dropping a boyfriend as soon as he got a divorce from his wife.
One can see from these examples that one can be ashamed on either moral or nonmoral
grounds. In other words, being-guilty is not an essential precondition for being-ashamed, as
I had prematurely concluded in the first pilot study.
One can also be ashamed on account of what one is. Thus, subjects described being
ashamed of their ethnic, racial, or religious background, such as being Italian, Polish, His-
panic, black, or Jewish. Others are ashamed of their occupations, that is, for being "only" a
janitor, dishwasher, or migrant farmworker. Still others are ashamed of certain characteris-
tics, such as being a "slow learner" or an epileptic.
Likewise, one can be ashamed because of what happens or is done to one. Many sub-
jects described being ashamed for having been raped or sexually abused.
Finally, one can also be ashamed because of some negative feature or behavior of
someone else with whom one feels identified in some way. Thus, subjects described being
ashamed on account of a father's alcoholism or of a son's getting arrested.
The results of this study showed clearly that one can be ashamed on account of any as-
pect of the self. In other words, one can live any personally disvalued feature of one's "do-
ing" or "having" dimensions as having negative self-definitional significance. Nevertheless,
the research also shows that the grounds for being-ashamed tend to cluster into the general
category offailure (moral or nonmoral), which can be subdivided into instances of badness,
weakness, incompetence, inadequacy, or defectiveness.
The becoming-phase of being-ashamed also includes the occurrence of the circum-
stance or event that permits or precipitates the person's becoming aware of the discrepancy
in "being" that is the core of the being-phase of the situated experience of being-ashamed.
In SI 's case, the becoming-phase of her experience of being-ashamed consisted both in the
attempt to leave the scene of the accident (the grounds for her being-ashamed) and in the
leaving of the owner of the car and the bystanding janitor (the occasion for her being-
 136 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

ashamed). As S lleft the presence of the owner and the janitor, her embarrassment subsided,
along with the need to defend herself against public disesteem. As her embarrassment sub-
sided, she found herself confronted with her own deeds and she experienced a resurgence
of her being-guilty and a movement into being-ashamed.

B. Being-Phase
1) The being-phase entails the core events of the affective situation. The central event in be-
ing-ashamed occurs in two stages. In the first, one perceives a discrepancy in "doing" or ''having,''
i.e., between what one wants to or must do or have (one's projects) and one's actual deeds or char-
acteristics (the actual circumstances). In the second, one lives this thematized discrepancy in "do-
ing" or "having" as signifying a failure in "being." In other words, one lives these thematized
negatively-valued deeds or characteristics/events as having negative definitional significance as to
who one is. One lives them as signifying that one is the negative kind ofperson one does not want
to be (self-dislike) or must not be (self-disgust and self-hatred). Being-ashamed is lived in three
modes or degrees: self-dislike, self-disgust and self-hatred. In self-dislike the failed project in "be-
ing" is lived with a ''want-not'' motivational valence. In self-disgust and self-hatred, it is lived with
a ''must-not'' motivational valence.
This perception of a failed project in ''being'' can also be viewed as entailing two or three re-
lated movements: (a) a lived generalization from a negative valuation of a deed/characteristic/event
to a negative valuation of one's personality or self; (b) a lived decontextualization in which one fo-
cuses on the negative feature and tends to ignore or deny the other positive features of one's self;
and (c) (in the case of self-hatred) a lived reduction of one's self to complete negativity (i.e., to a to-
tally deficient/worthless self). The perception of the discrepancy in "being" constitutes a partial
(self-dislike and self-disgust) or complete (self-hatred) negative transformation of one's present self
or personality.

The being-phase of being-ashamed begins with an intrapersonal exposure that takes

place in two stages or steps. In the first, there is an exposure to oneselfof some negatively
valued feature of one's "doing" or "having" dimension (i.e., some behavior or personal char-
acteristic). Thus, S1 starts to be ashamed as she allows herself to see clearly that she did boldly
and callously leave the scene of the accident in order to avoid accepting liability for the dam-
ages she had caused and that in doing so she had violated her own moral code of behavior.
In the second stage of the intrapersonal exposure (and as a result o/the exposure in the
first stage), one becomes aware of a discrepancy in "being," that is, between the person one
does not want to or must not be and the person one believes one is as a result of the just dis-
covered discrepancy in "doing" or "having." One lives the exposed deed or characteristic as
signifying that one is the negative kind of person one does not want to or must not be. Thus,
S 1 clearly moves from a judgment of her behavior to a judgment of her self. As she says,
"As I continued driving ... , the feelings deepened and the more central question of 'what
kind of person am I?'became predominant in my being." Further, Sllives the realization
that she "boldly" left the scene of the accident as signifying that she is the "callously irre-
sponsible" and "hypocritical" person she must not be. As she co-constitutes the meaning
of these events in this manner, she is ashamed in the manner of self-disgust and self-hatred.
The descriptions I received from my subjects indicated that being-ashamed may be
lived in three possible modes: self-dislike, self-disgust, and self-hatred. The differences
among these three experiences are determined by (l) whether the motivational investment
in the failed privative self-project is either a "want not" (self-dislike) or a "must not" (self-
disgust or self-hatred) and (2) whether one reduces oneselfto the negative face revealed in
the initial perceived discrepancy in "doing" or "having" (self-hatred) or not (self-dislike and
self-disgust}-or, in other words, by whether one lives the discrepancy as partially (self-
dislike and self-disgust) or totally (self-hatred) definitional of the self. Thus, Sl experiences
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 137

being-ashamed in the manner of self-dislike in the perception that she is a person who is "ir-
responsible" and "dishonest." However, she experiences being-ashamed in the manner of
self-disgust and, at moments, self-hatred, in the perception that she is a person who-is "so
irresponsible" and "so callously dishonest."
It appears that each experience of being-ashamed-of-oneself in the mode of self-dis-
gust or self-hatred entails the experience of an extreme failure in "being." The violation of
self-projects with such a "must not" motivational valence appears always and intrinsically
to entail an excessive violation of one's values. Thus, S 1 is ashamed in the modes of self-
disgust and self-hatred because she is not just irresponsible or dishonest, but is so in an out-
rageously excessive manner. She says:
Well, I think my self-image just doesn't permit me to do things like that. And it's shattering to
me to know that I'm not really the person that I want to be. That I could fall so short of being the
kind of person that I wanted to be.

Although S 1 uses the word "wanted" here, the project in "being" that is violated is a
"must not" one. While she wants to be a certain kind of person, she must not fall so short of
being that kind of person.
Of central importance for understanding the relationship between being-ashamed and
being-embarrassed is the recognition that one's living the perception of some negative deed,
event, or characteristic as being negatively definitional of one's self constitutes the experi-
ence of a negative transformation of one's present self. As we shall see below, the experi-
ence of such a transformation calls dialectically for other correlative transformations that
constitute the experience of other cognate shame-phenomena.
2) This negative transformation of present self constitutes the core but not the entirety of the
experience of being-ashamed. It also includes other constituents. Thus, dialectically correlative to
this transformation of present self, one undergoes the spontaneous negative transformation of one's
present circumambient world into a now potentially seeing-into + disesteeming/rejecting one. This
constitutes one's being-self-consciously-embarrassed in one's being-ashamed. In this self-con-
sciousness one experiences being vulnerable to interpersonal exposure + disesteem, and therefore
experiences a call to live that deficiency in "being" as a secret to-be-kept-hidden-from-Others.
Likewise, one also feels both porous/transparent and conspicuous.

Thus, in defining oneself to be this negatively valued (self-dislike) or absolutely neg-

atively valued (self-disgust and self-hatred) self, one undergoes a negative transformation
of one's present self in the experience of being-ashamed and immediately and sponta-
neously experiences a dialectically correlative negative transformation of one's present
world into a potentially seeing-into and disesteeming one. This latter transformation is ex-
perienced as being-self-consciously-embarrassed in one's being-ashamed. This being-self-
consciously-embarrassed is an integral part ofthe fuller experience of being-ashamed. One
of my subjects (S4) captured this immediate correlative transformation of his present world
in the following manner:
I felt chilled and kept saying inside myself: "Oh, God ... Oh God .... How could I be so blind?" I
felt real shame-a deep guilt. I was aware of an emotional nakedness, as though everybody could
see my shortcomings, my inner feelings of self-disgrace.

Another subject (S3) described the tension in this self-consciousness between feeling
as if others can see while knowing that they cannot. She says:
I felt surely that everybody must know ... that I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing....
I don't think they were [aware]. ... I guess my own magnitude expanding though I knew it wasn't
true ... It's like surely everybody must know what I've done; and that's stupid.
138 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

Those who experience being-ashamed all undergo this sort of "plate-glass feeling" (Laing,
1965, p. 106), in which they feel as though they are porous and transparent and their inner
selves-are visible to others.
Further, precisely because this feature that has just been exposed to the self is nega-
tively valued, one experiences the immediate call to live it as a "secret," that is, as some-
thing to be kept hidden from others. It is the "shameful" that is lived as though it would
induce others, at the very least, to disesteem one if it were revealed to them.
It is because of this dialectical self-conscious-embarrassment that being-ashamed-of-
oneself is a phenomenon not just of intra- but also of interpersonal exposure plus dises-
teem. It is this dialectical relationship between negative transformations ofpresent selfand
present world that contributes to the ambiguity ofbeing-ashamed and to the confusion be-
tween it and the experience of being-embarrassed (whether over potential or actual expo-
sure). Nevertheless, while being-ashamed entails both intra- and interpersonal exposure, the
central and key exposure is still the intrapersonal one:
3) The negative transformation of one's present world in being-self-consciously-embarrassed
continues as one spontaneously passes over into being-anxious in the face of actual exposure and
into being-embarrassed-over-(presumptive)actual-exposure. Thus, one's world almost always con-
tinues to get transformed from a potentially rejecting one into a probably rejecting one (anxious)
and sometimes into a presumptively actually rejecting one (embarrassed). Being-ashamed appears
always to entail the constituent experiences of being-self-consciously-embarrassed and being-anx-
ious in the face of exposure, along with a felt thrust toward being-embarrassed-over-actual-expo-
sure. It sometimes, but not always, entails the actual experience of such embarrassment-over-
actual-exposure. Thus, the negative transformation of one's present world in being-ashamed calls
for a further dialectical negative transformation of both one'sfuture self and future world. Against
the background of the perception that one is and perhaps has always been the negative self one does
not want to or must not be, one becomes apprehensive that one will continue to be that negative
self. One is thereby anxious in the face of additional future experiences of being-ashamed (future
self). Likewise, one becomes apprehensive that Others will confirm one's own negative self-valu-
ation and will enact that valuation in their behavior in several ways (e.g., rejection). One is thereby
anxious in the face of such threats from one's future world.
This dialectically required experience of being self-consciously-embarrassed is the
first step in a process ofprogressive negative transformation of one's world that is triggered
in the experience of being-ashamed. The other two steps are: the experience of one's world
as probably exposing plus disesteeming (being-anxious) and the experience of one's world
as actually exposing plus disesteeming (being-embarrassed-over-actual-exposure). While
this process is not inevitable in its entirety in every full experience of being-ashamed, the
movement into being-anxious, at least, appears essential. The movement into being-embar-
rassed-over-actual-exposure, on the other hand, appears generally to require the physical
presence of others. Thus, one can experience the being-self-consciously-embarrassed in be-
ing-ashamed over something without also experiencing being-embarrassed-over-actual-
exposure in regard to the same feature or ground. There is, nevertheless, a felt thrust toward
experiencing it if others are physically present.
Thus, in being-ashamed and self-consciously-embarrassed, certain negative eventual-
ities spontaneously arise on the horizon of one's future. The experienced emergence into
awareness of these possibilities constitutes a negative transformation of one's future (self
and world) and the emergence of one's being-anxious in the face of such a negative future.
This felt thrust toward being-anxious is almost dialectically demanded by the very fact that
one's being-ashamed and self-consciously-embarrassed are negative transformations of
one's present (self and world, respectively). However, just as being-ashamed and self-
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 139

consciously-embarrassed constitutes the experience of a negatively transformed present

(both self and world), so also the anxiousness one moves into spontaneously is an anxious-
ness in the face of a negatively transformed future (both self and world). One is anxious in
the face of further instances of being-ashamed (negative transformations of future self), as
well as in the face of being ridiculed, shamed, rejected, or otherwise hurt by others (nega-
tive transformations of future world).
Thus, S I, in the midst of her being-ashamed for trying to leave the scene of an acci-
dent, spontaneously attends to the moment in the near future when she will have to confess
to her husband what she has done. In that realization, she is anxious in the face of being-
embarrassed-over-actual-exposure to her husband and of being-humiliated by him (negative
transformation of future world) and of possibly being further ashamed of and disillusioned
in herself (negative transformation of future self). She says:
Concomitant with my feeling of shame was an increasing semi-fear and dread of telling my
husband about the accident. ... I was definitely concerned with what he would think of me too....
I was afraid of revealing to him that I was no better than anyone else.... And I was afraid he wauld
say this to me or intensify the feeling that I already had by what he said-trying to make me feel
guilty.... I was afraid he would confirm it even more by agreeing with me (emphasis added).

If the conditions are right, the correlative progressive negative transformation of one's
present world culminates in the experience of being-embarrassed-over-actual-exposure, or
humiliated. Generally, this means that if one experiences being-ashamed in the presence of
others and if these others show some presumptive sign of disesteem, then one experiences
being-embarrassed-over-actual-exposure in regard to that for which one already disesteems
oneself. Having already negatively judged oneself, one is prone to construe any ambiguous
behavior, circumstance, or event as indicating that others do, in fact, know about one's per-
sonal deficiency and are disesteeming one for it. Thus, precisely because one is ashamed,
one has a tendency to experience being-embarrassed-over-actual-exposure. Such a being-
embarrassed correlative to one's being-ashamed constitutes a further and final negative
transformation of one's present world-an advance beyond the negative transformation be-
gun in one's being-self-conscious.
One subject provided a good illustration of being-embarrassed-over- (presumptive) ac-
tual-exposure consequent upon and correlative to her being-ashamed. She describes work-
ing as a waitress in a resort hotel and being embarrassed when the captain of the waiters
yelled at her in front of all the hotel guests. In response to this public censure, she ran out
crying and was immediately ashamed for being "so weak" and for not being able to respond
effectively to the captain. She also felt even more embarrassed believing that the guests now
disesteemed her even further for her "weakness." Her being-embarrassed-over- (presump-
tive) actual-exposure correlative to her being-ashamed was revealed when she said: "I felt
that I could never face the guests again. . .. I was feeling that they were looking down on
me for the whole thing."
While it is true that one does not experience being-embarrassed-over-actual-exposure
each time one experiences being-ashamed, it is also clear that in each instance of being-
ashamed, one does experience being-self-consciously-embarrassed as well as a thrust to-
ward being-embarrassed-over-actual-exposure, that is, afurther negative transformation of
one's present world. At minimum, the experience of being-ashamed shapes one's world to
such a degree that one is disposed or inclined toward seeing whatever persons are present
as actually seeing into one's shamefulness and disesteeming one for it. This dialectical
 140 DAMIAN S. VAllElONGA

thrust toward embarrassment-over-actual-exposure also reveals being-ashamed as a phe-

nomenon of both intra- and interpersonal exposure and disesteem. As indicated above, the
confusion in the literature about the nature of "shame" is grounded in this dialectical rela-
tionship, within a single experienced situation, between negative transformations of present
self (being-ashamed) and present world (being-self-consciously-embarrassed and being-
embarrassed-over- [presumptive] actual-exposure).
Although one does not always experience embarrassment over actual exposure cor-
relative to one's being-ashamed, when one does experience it, that very experience confirms
and reinforces one's own self-disesteem and increases the felt pain of one's being-ashamed.
In fact, they tend to reinforce each other so that the experience of each is intensified:
4) In addition, the body participates in the total felt.perception which is being-ashamed. Thus,
on a pre-personal level one lives the perceived discrepancy either as literally distasteful (in self-dis-
like) or as revolting/nauseating (in self-disgust and self-hatred). In both cases the body pre-reflec-
tively enacts its rejection of the perceived deficiency in personal "being." Further, one also
experiences a sort of bodily weakness along with a sense of helplessness in response to the per-
ceived failure.

Being-affected is not just a psychic event. Rather, it is a moment in the interaction of

a unitary body-subject with its "world" (in the broadest sense). The body participates nec-
essarily and meaningfully in the intentional act of being-affected. The intentional act, there-
fore, is not solely a cognitive event. Being-affected is a matter of a/elt knowing. The feeling
refers both to the affected consciousness (i.e., the painful or pleasant quality of the know-
ing itself) and to the reverberations or resonations of the perception in or by one's embod-
ied existence. The feeling aspect of being-ashamed thus entails both the painful quality of
the felt perception and the body's expression of and response to what is perceived.
The body's involvement in being-ashamed expresses, prereflectively and preperson-
ally, the core meaning of the lived situation itself. In effect, the body, through its enact-
ment of distaste (for self-dislike) and revulsion/nausea (for self-disgust and self-hatred),
lives out and expresses one's own negative valuation of one's self or personality. The dis-
taste and revulsion that are characteristic of the various types of self-disesteem are bodily
and prepersonal enactments of one's self-rejection. They are the body's part in the self-
disesteem.
S4 clearly reacted bodily to his being-ashamed. He twice used the word "Yuck!" to ex-
press his distaste over his shameful behavior. He said: "And in show business, you know the
expression-'You step on people to get ahead.' And here this was-Yuck!" He also said the
shameful incident "caused this 'Ugh! 'ugly feeling in me" and that he "got this terrible sick
feeling." In her being-ashamed, Sl described feeling "sort of sickened." Likewise, one of the
subjects in my study of embarrassment also described an incident of being-ashamed and de-
clared in the interview:
I got sick in my stomach. R: You mean nauseated? S: Nausea, yeah. R: You really felt nause-
ated? S: Uh-huh. R: As what? S: As a realization of what I was doing. Of how I reacted, of being
so out of control, of being so violent against them. The realizing what I could have done, you know,
made me sick to my stomach. Usually, when I'm ashamed, I start getting sick.

In addition to a feeling of bodily distaste or revulsion, there is also an experience of

bodily weakness. One of my subjects said, "I felt weak-just like somebody had just cut me
open." The bodily weakness appears to express a certain lack of direction and motivation
appropriate to the crisis in self-definition that is entailed in being-ashamed. Being-ashamed
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 141

always entails some sort of being-demotivated, whether of brief or long duration. The bod-
ily weakness is an aspect of that demotivation. One loses heart, as it were.
Similarly, there is a concomitant feeling of helplessness. Sl declares that in the midst
of her feeling "sickened and disgusted," she also undergoes "a feeling of helplessness, of
being all alone in this situation-that there was nothing anybody else could do or say that
could help [her] out of this."
5) Correlative to the felt-perception that one is the negative person that one does not want to
or must not be, one typically undergoes the felt-perception that one is not the ideal person that one
still wants to be. This felt-perception of that discrepancy constitutes one's being-disappointed-in-
oneself. In being-ashamed one focuses on the negative-actuality-pole of the discrepancy in "being";
while in being-disappointed-in-oneself one focuses on the positive-ideality-pole of the very same
discrepancy.

Being-disappointed-in-oneself appears to be an isomer, so to speak, of being-ashamed.

In both, one perceives and attends to a discrepancy between one's self-project and one's pre-
sumptive actual self. However, the difference appears to be that in being-ashamed one fo-
cuses on the presumptive actual negative self, which constitutes the failure of the
self-project one has been living up to now. One does not attend to the continuance of the
correlative positive self-project as such, even though it has so far foundered while still be-
ing retained. On the other hand, in being disappointed in oneself, one focuses not on the
presumptive actual negative self (if that has emerged), but on the ideal positive self that one
continues to want to be and that one realizes one has thus far failed to be. In both, the neg-
ative affect is constituted by a felt perception of the discrepancy between actuality and ide-
ality. But in being-ashamed, one attends to the negative actuality pole of the discrepancy,
while in being-disappointed-in-oneself, one focuses on the positive ideality pole of the very
same discrepancy. In the former, one focuses on one's being who one does not want to be.
In the latter, one focuses on still wanting to be who one sees one is not.
Being-disappointed-in-oneself and being-ashamed are correlative lived generaliza-
tions that most often occur together. In being-disappointed-in-oneself, one lives one's
deeds/characteristics/experiences as signifying that one is not the unambiguously positive
self (in part or in whole) that one continues to want to/have to be. For example, S 1 lives her
attempt to leave the scene of an accident as signifYing that she is not the honest, responsi-
ble, caring person she wants to and must be, and she is disappointed. In being-ashamed, on
the other hand, one lives one's deeds/characteristics/experiences as signifying that one is the
unambiguously negative self (in part or in whole) that one wants not to or must not be. For
example, S 1 goes on to live that same event as signifying, not just that she is not the honest,
responsible person she must be (which could be the opportunity for the formulation of a
truly ambiguous self), but rather that she is the dishonest, hypocritical, uncaring person she
must not be. Painful though it may be, being-disappointed-in-oneself is experienced as a
species of loss (temporary or permanent) of a self-ideal. Being-ashamed is experienced in-
stead as a disaster that befalls one. It is a positively bad event from which one recoils.
While being-disappointed-in-oneselfis qualitatively different from being-ashamed, the
difference is subtle and most often obscured. It is obscured because both phenomena fre-
quently occur together and because the pain of being-ashamed tends to overshadow that of
being-disappointed-in-oneselfwhen they do occur together.
6) In being-ashamed one lives one's present self as unambiguously negative either in part
(self-dislike or self-disgust) or in whole (self-hatred). In it one also experiences a dialectical
 142 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

thrust towards a correlative negative transformation of one's past self and of the ambiguity of that
past self. In other words, one is called to live one's behaviors or characteristics as having nega-
tive definitional significance not just for who one is now but also for who one has been in the
past and up to now. If one allows them to have such significance, then one also experiences
being-ashamed-ofone's-past-self. Further, if this past self had been lived previously, not as am-
biguous, but as unambiguously positive (in part or in whole), then the negative transformation of
that past self is lived as being-disillusioned-in-oneself. Thus, in being-ashamed one is called to
live a generalization not just from "doing"I"having" to present "being" but also to past "being."
All instances of being-ashamed entail at least the felt thrust toward the experience of such nega-
tive transformations of past self. Further, in these transformations of past self one typically
experiences oneself as having been at least naive and often as having been a pretense, fraud
or phony.

Because of the mutual implication of the three dimensions oflived time, when one un-
dergoes the negative transformation of one's present self in being-ashamed, one also expe-
riences a dialectical thrust, not just toward a correlative negative transformation of one's
future self and world, but also toward a correlative negative transformation of one's past
self, that is, toward living one's past self as having been negative as well. In other words, one
lives one's behaviors or characteristics or the events at issue as having significance regard-
ing one's understanding/definition, not just of who one is now, but also of who one has been
in the past and up to now. What this means is that one experiences a dialectical thrust to-
ward being-ashamed-of-one's-past-self, that is, toward disesteeming who one believes/
understands one has been up to now. However, if one's self-understanding in the area at
issue has been and is unambiguously positive, then one also experiences being-disillu-
sioned-with-oneself. In certain instances, then, one may experience both being-disillu-
sioned-with-oneself and being-ashamed-of one's past and present self. (For a discussion of
the difference between being-ashamed-of-one's-present-self, being-ashamed-of-one's-past-
self, and being-disillusioned-with-oneself, see Vallelonga, 1986, pp. ll16ff.)
Thus, in being-ashamed, one is also inclined to live one's current experiences, deeds,
or characteristics as signifying that one has never been the self one believed oneself to
be and, instead, that one has always been an unambiguously negative self (in one area or
in toto).
In being-ashamed-of-one's-past-self and being-disillusioned-with-oneself, one feel-
ingly perceives not only that one is not and has never been the person one wants to or must
be, but, more important, that one is and has always been the unambiguously negative per-
son (in part or in whole) that one does not want to or must not be. Two of my subjects, S 1
and S4, exemplified both the disillusioned loss of the positive self-definition and the
ashamed elaboration of the negative self-definition.
Thus, Sl's being caught in her attempt to leave the scene of the accident forces her to
confront what she has done. As she lives what she has done as having self-definitional sig-
nifications, she eventually undergoes the experience of being-as hamed-of-her-present-self
in the mode of self-hatred and, subsequently, the experience of both being-disillusioned-
with-herself and being-ashamed-of-her-past-self. She says:

Well, I felt completely shattered by the experience. Sort oflike my world is coming apart. My
pretentions about myself-that I can't hold onto them any longer. And sort of like my self-image is
shattered. ... That the image that I have of myself as being someone who is honest and responsi-
ble, you know, was shattered. I felt like the bottom had dropped out of every thing and that I wasn't
the person I had pretended to be to myself. ... I guess a feeling of complete and total helplessness
and nakedness and total self-awareness-being in touch with what I really was . ... It was sort of a
feeling of surrendering to the truth about myself (emphasis added).
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 143

Thus, S 1 lives her recent deeds as signifying that she is not the person she must be
(i.e., "honest," "responsible," and "caring"), and she is disappointed-in-herself for that.
However, she also lives these deeds as signifying that she has never been that unambigu-
ously positive person or that, at least, she has never lived these qualities in an unambigu-
ously positive manner, and she is disillusioned-with-herself. S 1's case illustrates well that
this "shattering" of one's "self-image" is lived as a painful moment of truth, and one never
questions that it is "the truth." Precisely because this discovery has the character of a "mo-
ment of truth" or of a shattering of illusions (which one has co-constituted, at the mini-
mum), one also experiences oneself typically as having been at least naive or, further, a
pretense, phony, sham, or fraud.
7) As part of this experience of being-ashamed-of-oneself one also experiences the urge!
impulse to do something (at this stage, usually vague and unspecified) to ease the pain. One
frequently experiences the impulse, per impossibilem, to escape from one's own eyes and to
disappear.

As in the experience of all negative affects, in the case of being-ashamed one experi-
ences, in the midst of the painfulness of the self-disesteem, an urge or impulse to do some-
thing to ease or eliminate the pain. This impulse, in its myriad forms, constitutes the
conative dimension of the being-affected in the mode of being-ashamed. This conative di-
mension of the Being-Phase of being-ashamed consists in a thrust or pull toward some ac-
tion (to end the painful intrapersonal exposure and self-disesteem), rather than in the action
itself. The action itself, on the other hand, to which one is called to deal with the pain, would
constitute the Getting-Over-Phase of the situated experience of being-ashamed.
In every negative affect, including being-ashamed, one experiences the call to do
something (at this stage, usually something vague and unspecified}-either to undo the dis-
crepancy the awareness of which is the source of the painful self-disesteem or to escape the
awareness of that discrepancy. Several of my subjects illustrated the urge to do something
to undo the discrepancy that occasioned the self-disesteem. Thus, S4 experienced the call
to do something unspecified. At the moment he was ashamed, he declared: "I couldn't wait
until I got out there and did something about it. ... I wanted to get out there and see that lit-
tle girl and correct it, to do something about it." Likewise, one of the subjects in my em-
barrassment study said of the "ugly feeling" he had in being-ashamed and embarrassed: "I
wanted to shake it off and I wanted to leave, to get rid of it. ... I didn't want to really own
it. It's uncomfortable." Yet this subject does not know immediately what he is to do to get rid
of this uncomfortable feeling.
S4 also experienced the urge to undo the painful awareness and to run from the self-
confrontation it portended and demanded. He admitted candidly: "Truly, I wanted to run
from my inner thoughts of self-deprecation and shame." He expanded on this by saying that
"it's almost like not wanting to go through that therapy with yourself." Nevertheless, he re-
sisted the urge to run from his own "moment of truth."
Sometimes one experiences the urge, as in being-embarrassed-over-actual-exposure,
to escape the seeing-into and disesteeming eyes. In being-ashamed, however, it is one's own
eyes that are doing the exposing and disesteeming; and one cannot escape one's own aware-
ness that easily. In fact, one does do it through forgetfulness, and this constitutes one of the
chief solutions enacted in the Getting-Over-Phase. Still, in the Being-Phase, one sometimes
experiences the desire to disappear and, per impossibilem, to escape one's own gaze. An-
other pilot study subject illustrated this impulse when he revealed that he "was so ashamed
 144 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

that ... I just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out." The magical nature of this
solution aims at undoing both one's own painful self-awareness and any exposure to by-
standing others.
8) Similarly, the just-thematized discrepancy in "being" has a power to attract one's atten-
tion to it. One typically gets absorbed in this discrepancy and gets temporarily pulled away from
one's immediately previous world-of-action and one's then-current and still-pending task-
projects in it. In addition, clock time fades away. However, if one continues with one's already
initiated task-projects, one typically does so in a distracted/preoccupied manner as one is torn,
as it were, between attending to the still-pending projects and attending to the unresolved feel-
ingly-perceived discrepancy.

There is a certain flustering that is attached to being-ashamed by means of the atten-

dant self-consciousness. Similarly, there is also a certain flustering that adheres to the ex-
perience of being-ashamed simply from the power of the painfully perceived discrepancy to
attract and hold one's attention. One becomes preoccupied with and fixated on the just-
revealed deficiency in one's personality and is thereby distracted from one's current activi-
ties. Precisely because of this fixation, one tends to lose track of clock time. One's experi-
ential time moves slowly while clock time, paradoxically, moves quickly. Furthermore, if
one manages to continue with one's already initiated task-projects, one typically can do so
only in a distracted or preoccupied manner as one feels oneself split and one divides one's
attention between the still-pending task-projects and the unresolved feelingly perceived dis-
crepancy in "being."
S3 illustrated the intense preoccupation with the failed self-project and the sort of be-
ing-flustered as well as distractedness it engenders, saying:
For two hours I walked around town, not knowing or caring where I was going .... The shame
caused me to be disoriented in walking and crossing the street and I found myself bumping into
people. I was turned inward on myself, facing what I should have done, and what I really was do-
ing .... But, see, because I was in my own mind, I was going around in circles. I felt like I was go-
ing around in circles ... with what I shouldn't have done and what I should have done .... R: I see.
O. K. How did you respond to bumping into people? S: It didn't wake me up or anything. You know,
I just would move away and would just say, "I'm sorry," or something, you know. But it didn't get
me out of what I was in. I mean, I was in it.
9) Further, one's future deteriorates even more as one moves into being unsure about whether
one can avoid being that negative person in the future. This anxiousness constitutes a mid-ground be-
tween being-ashamed and being-depressed. In it one experiences a call to believe that one will be un-
able to not be that negative person in the future as well. This is a call to being-depressed, which
would constitute a final lived generalization-this time from present "doing"I"having" to future "be-
ing." Further (in self-disgust and, especially, in self-hatred), one's future gets transformed dialecti-
cally into an impenetrable negativity which leads one to lose hope. One sees nothing to pull one
forward and one loses motivation to go forward. One thereby becomes profoundly discouraged and
demoralized. This can progress farther into despair which gives rise to thoughts of death and suicide.

In the realization that one is the person one does not want to be or must not be, one
begins to become unsure about whether one can cease being that negative self one con-
tinues to want not to be/must not be. This is the realm of being-anxious in the face of fur-
ther instances of being-ashamed and in the face of being-depressed. This is a midground
between being-ashamed and actually being-depressed. In actually being-depressed, one
moves from being unsure about whether one can cease being that negative person to be-
lieving that one cannot stop being that person, while one persists in wanting to/having to
not be that person. One moves from a present sense of being able to not be that negative
person despite one's current failure to not be it, through a present sense of unsureness
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 145

about whether one can cease being that person, to a present sense of being unable to not
be that person.
Being-depressed thus constitutes the final step in an unholy trinity oflived general-
izations. In being-ashamed, one lives a generalization from "doing"I"having" to present
"being." In being-ashamed-of or disillusioned-with-one's-past-self, one lives a generaliza-
tion from "doing"I"having" to past "being." And in being-depressed, one finally lives a gen-
eralization from "doing"I"having" tofuture "being."
The principal lived generalization is the one to present "being"-the experience of
self-disesteem (being-ashamed). It appears to be the essential condition for the other two
and can occur without the other two. Yet, the more intense the self-disesteem, the stronger
is the felt thrust to live tlie other two generalizations as well.
Being-ashamed-of or disillusioned-with-one's-past-selfexpands the negative transfor-
mation of oneself across temporal horizons and deepens one's experience of self-alienation.
Further, the more complete one's disaffection with one's own self-image, the more likely is
it that one will experience oneself as being unable to achieve or fulfill one's self-ideal in the
future, and the more likely one's being-depressed as well.
Furthermore, the more intense the self-disesteem or the more complete the negative
transformation of one's present self (as in self-disgust and, especially, self-hatred), the
more complete is the negative transformation of one's entire future. In self-hatred, one's
future tends to get transformed into an inpenetrable negativity with no access. In this
transformation of one's future, one loses all hope. One sees nothing to pull one forward
and one loses all motivation to go forward. One becomes profoundly discouraged and de-
moralized. In fact, the felt impenetrability of one's future and one's demoralization are
the same reality.
At that point at which one's future appears impenetrable, life itself begins to appear
pointless, and thoughts and desires of suicide (or at least of death) spontaneously emerge.
These thoughts or desires reflect the despair that in turn expresses the complete alienation
of one's own future in one's self-disgust or self-hatred. In such a moment, one moves from
a sense of terrible or complete unworthiness in the present to a sense that one cannot be
other than terribly or completely unworthy even in the future.
It is especially likely that thoughts of death or suicide should spring up in the depres-
sion flowing from self-disgust or self-hatred. If one sees oneself as profoundly or com-
pletely negative and worthless and one sees no hope of becoming otherwise in the future, it
would seem reasonable that one would want to escape the intense affective pain and the
self-alienation, even if through death. Such a desire is reasonable once one has lived the two
quite unreasonable and formally illogical generalizations, first to complete and unambigu-
ous negativity in the present, and then to complete and unambiguous negativity in the fu-
ture as well.
In being-ashamed, there is a tendency to being-discouraged and sometimes even to de-
spair. In being-ashamed, one inevitably tends, as we have seen above, to become unsure of
whether one can ever cease to be the person one does not want to or must not be (Le., one
becomes anxious in the face of being-depressed). Being-discouraged is the motivational
state that goes along with this sense of unsureness about one's future "being." It is another
face of one's lack of confidence in one's ability to achieve one's self-project. Since one is
unsure about one's ability to succeed, one does not know whether to invest one's effort in the
project. One is disinclined to take the risk.
 146 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

Despair, however, is different. In despair, one does not just have a "sense" that one is
unable to achieve one's self-project. One is sure. In being-depressed, one goes beyond just
being unsure, but one is still not sure. One has a sort of suspicion that one is unable. In de-
spair, one is sure one is unable not to be that person and sees no way of ceasing to be that
unambiguously negative person. With that sureness, one has no inclination to invest energy
or effort in one's self-project.
None of the subjects in my formal research project exemplified the progression to be-
ing-depressed or to despair. SI, however, comes very close. She reaches the point of being
unsure about whether she can ever cease to be the person she does not want to or must not
be, and she is discouraged momentarily. She certainly experiences tugs in the direction of
being-depressed, but she manages to resist them and not make the generalization to future
"being" after all. She says:
Well, I think I almost felt like there was no reason to go on living because, if my real self was
just a pretense, you know, and if! couldn't respect my real self, then there was no point in living.
. . . I guess a feeling of complete and total helplessness .... As I said before, a feeling of help-
lessness, of being all alone in this situation-that there was nothing anybody else could do or say
that could help me out of this ... self-contempt! ... I guess there still must have been doubt or I
felt that there was still some possibility that I could become the person that I wanted to be.

S 1 apparently gets glimpses of being unable not to be that person she must not be as
well as of being unable to be the person she must be and in those glimpses comes close to
depression and despair. Yet she ultimately resists this negative sureness and retains the pos-
sibility that she can still cease to be the negative self she does not want to be/must not be
and can still become the person she wants to be/must be. In doing so, she wards off the be-
ing-depressed and does not despair. She is discouraged a bit, but she is not demoralized.

C. Getting-Over-Phase
In the getting-over-phase of being-ashamed, as in that of other affects, one is faced with two
principal choices: to forget the discrepancy in "being" or to resolve it. One can cultivate forgetful-
ness by using direct or indirect strategies. Because of the absolute disvaluation of the deeds/char-
acteristics and self in self-disgust and self-hatred, however, it is quite difficult to accomplish this
distraction and forgetting. One of the indirect strategies involves making excuses for the underly-
ing discrepancy in "doing"I"having," excuses which one does not fully believe (Le., they are self-
deceptive). These excuses enable one to shift blame for one's failure onto Others or the world in
general. Likewise, as in other affects, one can also resolve the discrepancy at issue. In being-
ashamed this can be accomplished by undoing the negative self-definition or by modifYing or giv-
ing up one's failed self-project. One can undo the negative self-definition by undoing the founding
discrepancy in "doing"I"having" (Le., by atonement or a firm-purpose-of-amendment or analogous
forms of both) or by undoing the lived generalization from "doing"I"having" to "being." It appears
difficult, however, to give up the self-projects at issue.

The getting-oyer-phase is the fulfillment of the conative dimension of the being-phase.

The calls that were experienced in the being-phase are acted upon in this phase. They are
actions aimed at undoing the pain of that felt perception that is the core of the being-phase.
The junction ofthe getting-over-phase is to eliminate the pain ofthe affected knowing.
As mentioned above, the heart of the affective experience of being-ashamed is the felt
perception of a discrepancy between one's action/characteristics and one's self-projects-a
discrepancy between who one apprehends oneself to be and who one does not want to be or
must not be. Considering that this is the discrepancy the felt perception of which constitutes
one's being-ashamed, there are two basic modes of getting over the experience: (1) by un-
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 147

doing one's painful awareness of that discrepancy in some way or (2) by undoing the dis-
crepancy itself in some way.
The first alternative is to pursue the path offorgetfulness. This course aims not at in-
ternal consistency, but at quick relief of the painful being-affected. It ignores the lack of
integrity and overlooks the conflict or split within oneself. The second alternative consti-
tutes the path ofresolution, the course of reintegration. It achieves further personal integrity
or consistency either by making one's actions consonant with one's moral values and/or
self-ideals or by modifying one's moral values and/or self-ideals to have them cohere more
closely with one's patterns of behavior and collection of characteristics.

1. The Path of Forgetfulness. Even those who eventually pursue the path ofresolu-
tion appear to experience an immediate, spontaneous impulse to run from the painful self-
awareness and to pursue forgetfulness of one's failure. In fact, almost everyone's first
impulse, it appears, is to do precisely that. S4 illustrated this call to run and the felt conflict
between running from one's failure in "being," on one hand, and grappling with it to resolve
it in a more congruent fashion, on the other. He said:
Truly, I wanted to run from my inner thoughts of self deprecation and shame .... 'Cause it
isn't easy for me to admit that I am not what I would like to share with other people .... I don't
like it when something reminds me that I'm not the selfI preach.... So I don't want reminders be-
cause ... I suspect that, if I go too deep, I'm going to find a monster that doesn't fit any of my con-
scious values or anything I appreciate about life. I'm going to find a monster there.... I don't want
to look.... It's almost like not wanting to go through that therapy with yourself.

S4 is afraid to face the discrepancy lest he be radically disillusioned and lose faith in
himself. He is anxious that he will never be able to not be who he does not want to be/must
not be or be able to be who he wants to be or must be. It is this fear that drives him in the di-
rection of cultivating forgetfulness. It is this fear that we all share to some degree.
Still, while one's immediate impulse is almost always to run from and forget the
painful discrepancy, I must say that, at least in the cases of self-disgust and certainly self-
hatred, forgetfulness is not easy to achieve. Precisely because, in these two modes of self-
disesteem, the failed self-projects have been lived with a "must not" motivational
investment and thus are lived intensely and felt deeply, it is not easy to accomplish the de-
sired forgetfulness. One has a difficult time letting go of the focus on the failure, and events
tend easily to remind one of it. Even more, what often happens is that one's first responses
(as in Sl 's case) are spontaneously in the direction of cultivating forgetfulness, but one's
subsequent responses come to grips with the difficult-to-forget discrepancy. SI, for exam-
ple, immediately chooses to ignore her shameful awareness that she has not been the care-
ful and responsible person she wants to be. Yet, eventually, this awareness emerges again
with intensity, and she chooses to face it and work through it. As she says, that was her "mo-
ment of truth" when she "couldn't hide from [herself] any longer."
The forgetfulness that is cultivated is not generally permanent, and it certainly is not
complete. Forgetfulness means that one has managed not to attend to the discrepancy until
it no longer exerts any call to one on its own. Other events and circumstances, however, can
recall the shameful event for one and provoke the reemergence of the discrepancy into one's
focal awareness. One does not, as perhaps occurs in amnesia, obliterate from consciousness
this discrepancy in "being"; it is only put out of one's thoughts. One still remains vulnerable
to attacks of recollection, as it were. Further, even if one manages to forget some specific
 148 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

discrepancy in "being," one does so only incompletely. What occurs in forgetting such dis-
crepancies is that one forgets the concrete grounds or occasion for the self-disesteem, but
one is still left with a vague and unthematic sense of being deficient as a person. This un-
thematic sense of being deficient serves as a ground for one's experiactions and becomes
more insidious precisely as a groundal rather than a focal phenomenon.
There appear to be two general modes of cultivating the desired forgetfulness of the
painful discrepancy in "being": directly or indirectly. These modes are not mutually exclu-
sive, and one can pursue either or both ways of inducing forgetfulness. The reader is re-
ferred to Vallelonga (1986, pp. 1147-1166) for explanations and illustrations of these
modes.

2. The Path of Resolution. The second way of getting over one's experience of be-
ing-ashamed (in all three modes) is the path of resolution, that is, by actively undoing or re-
solving the feelingly perceived discrepancy between one's self-projects (to not be a certain
kind of person) and the current actual events (that one's behavior or characteristics do sug-
gest/reveal one actually to be that certain kind of person). Since the discrepancy entails a di-
vergence between one's projects and the actual events, the only way actively to resolve the
discrepancy is to change one of its poles in order to bring both into alignment or congru-
ence with each other. The only choices one has, then, are (a) to give up or modify one's pro-
ject not to be a certain negative kind of person (i.e., to change oneself or the self-pole of the
discrepancy) or (b) to change the fact that one's behaviors or characteristics reveal one to be
that certain kind of person (i.e., to change the world or the world-pole of the discrepancy).
In other words, the only alternatives one has in resolving the discrepancy at issue are to
change either the way one wants things to be or the way they are (from the agent's perspec-
tive). Changing the way things are, obviously, can boil down simply to changing the way
one perceives things to be.
a. In the first choice (i.e., to change the way one wants things to be), what one is
changing is one's self-project or project not to be a certain kind of person. In this mode of
resolving the discrepancy, one does not make one's underlying behaviors/characteristics or
one's overarching self-definition conform to or fulfill one's self-project, but the other way
around. One makes one's self-project conform to, or at least not be discrepant with, one's
actual behaviors or characteristics and the self-definition founded on them.
While, on the surface of things, it might appear as easy to change one's self-project as
to change the presumptive actual events and one's self-definition, or even easier, such does
not appear to be the case. Persons, unless explicitly directed and aided to do otherwise (as
in forms of cognitive therapy), appear to hold onto their self-projects in an uncritical fash-
ion. They frequently struggle to live up to their oppressive self-projects or endure the sense
of failure rather than question the reasonableness of these constrictive self-projects. There
are two ways of changing one's unfulfilled self-projects (i.e., the self-pole of the discrep-
ancy): (i) by further specifying or delimiting one's self-project or (ii) by simply giving up
the self-project at issue. (For further explanations and illustrations of these resolution strate-
gies, see Vallelonga, 1986, pp. 1206-1212.)
Suffice it here to give an example of the strategy of giving up one's self-project at issue.
Thus, S3 implied that she gave up her project to be a perfect nun. While she was at first
ashamed to perceive that she was the kind of nun she felt she must not be (i.e., one who is not
always in control of her emotions), she eventually appreciated her failure as an indication of
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 149

her being "hwnan," which she now positively values. She appeared to give up the project not
to be an imperfect nun or to be perfectly in control of her emotions. She accepted her failures
as an indication of her hwnanity and her ability to be more compassionate. She said:
I was ashamed before ... , but the whole thing is kind of endearing in a way. This is kind of
hard to explain. You know-that I was so human. R: You see this as a moment of growth too?
S: Yeah, this whole thing was very growthful. You know, I like knowing that I'm weak because
that s the truth, you know. But I can recognize it-the experience. And I think it is the basis ofcom-
passion, you know, and understanding .... It's a release. R: So there's a lot of positive aspects even
to your being imperfect? S: Uh-huh, uh-huh. Because this shame did pass (emphasis added).

b. In the second choice (i.e., to change the preswnptive actual events), what one is ba-
sically changing is the negative, current self-definition that is discrepant with one's self-
ideal or self-project. One can change this negative self-definition in two broad ways: (i) by
undoing the founding discrepancy in "doing"/"having" by changing either the behavior/
characteristic at issue or one's underlying "doing" or "having" project, or (ii) by undoing the
lived generalization from this discrepancy to a negative definition of one's self. In these two
modes of undoing the discrepancy in "being," one's self-projects remain exactly as they
were. One does not change the ideality pole of the discrepancy but its actuality pole, that is,
the negative self-definition discrepant with one's ideal self.
The strategies for resolving the discrepancy are nwnerous, and the reader is directed
to Vallelonga (1986, pp. 1166-1212) for examples and illustrations of them. Suffice it here
to describe how some subjects resolve the discrepancy founded on a violation of moral val-
ues by using actual or analogous "atonement" and a "firm purpose of amendment." S 1, for
example, does feel ashamed for being careless and irresponsible in not exiting her parking
spot slowly and in trying to leave the scene of the accident. She is distracted from this be-
ing-ashamed, however, by her getting caught and her being-embarrassed-over-actual-expo-
sure. Toward the end of her interactions with the others, she begins to cooperate and finally
asswnes financial responsibility for the accident. As she does this, her being-ashamed for
being irresponsible is eased and she feels relief. In effect, her asswning financial responsi-
bility undoes the harm done; it constitutes "atonement." She says: "I felt, 1 think, relieved
because now I was doing the right thing. I was cooperating with her and I was giving her my
name and address. And, in doing so, I was taking responsibility for what I had done."
S 1 adds at the end of her interview that sometimes she seeks symbolic restitution; she
seeks out punishment for herself as a means of doing penance and undoing her being-
ashamed on moral grounds. She declares: "But sometimes I tell people who I know will not
react favorably to something that I have done. And maybe this is the way I have, you know,
of being punished-by having someone else criticize me for what I've done." Later on in
the same situation, SI is ashamed for being so hypocritical. Part of the way she resolves the
discrepancy in "doing" and "being" is to make a firm purpose of amendment not to be so
critical of others. Her answer to the question of the "double standard" is "to be less critical
of others and be less critical of myself."

2. How Being-Ashamed Differs from Being-Embarrassed and Being-Guilty

As indicated at the beginning of this chapter, three of the goals of my research proj ect
were (1) to elucidate the concrete lived structure of being-ashamed; (2) to clarify the dif-
ferences between being-ashamed and its cognates, being-embarrassed and being-guilty; and
 150 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

(3) to uncover the grounds for the persistent ambiguity in the realm of shame. Let us now
turn to comparisons of being-ashamed with both being-embarrassed and being-guilty.

a. A Comparison of Being-Ashamed and Being-Embarrassed

The major difference between these two phenomena is that being-embarrassed-over-
actual-exposure entails the central experience of interpersonal exposure and public dises-
teem, while being-ashamed entails the central experience of intrapersonal exposure and self-
disesteem. In being-embarrassed, one primarily undergoes the negative transformation of
one's present world, while in being-ashamed one primarily undergoes the negative transfor-
mation of one's present self. In addition to this central one, other differences were also found.
Thus, in the becoming-phase, the ground for being-embarrassed is a ground that one
believes the other disvalues but that one mayor may not disvalue oneself. In being-ashamed,
the ground is always personally disvalued. Likewise, in being-embarrassed, the grounds tend
to cluster in the area of accidents and breaches in one's standard public self-presentation
(e.g., conspicuousness, impropriety, breaches of privacy); in being-ashamed, they cluster in
the area ofJailures in personal "being" (e.g., badness, weakness, incompetence).
In the being-phase, there were other differences besides the central one noted above.
In being-embarrassed, one perceives the other as living a generalization from one's "doing"/
"having" to one's "being": in being-ashamed, one lives the same generalization about one-
self (i.e., one allows one's deeds or characteristics to be negatively definitional of one's
identity and one's worth). Likewise, in the former affect, the quality of the motivational in-
vestment in the failed project does not determine a range of types, while it does in the lat-
ter (i.e., self-dislike, self-disgust, and self-hatred). Similarly, on the bodilylbehaviorallevel,
one blushes and feels hot in the former one, while one feels a certain physical distaste or re-
vulsion/nausea in the latter. In being-embarrassed, one experiences a call to hide, literally
and physically, from the other, while in being-ashamed, one is called to hide figuratively
from oneself (i.e., by cultivating forgetfulness). In being-ashamed, one experiences a di-
alectical thrust toward generalizing from present "doing"/"having" to future "being," that
is, to discouragement, depression, and despair, whereas in being-embarrassed, one does not.
Likewise, being-embarrassed entails a "metalevel" (embarrassed over being embarrassed),
but being-ashamed does not.
In addition, in the getting-over-phase, there are a few differences among many simi-
larities. An example is the fact that one resolves the discrepancy (by changing the world
pole) in being-embarrassed by what is called "facework," while in being-ashamed, one
does so by what is called "atonement" and a "firm purpose of amendment" (both real and
analogous).
The "exposure" type of being-embarrassed and being-ashamed are correlative and
cognate phenomena. (For a comparison of the "exposure" and "intrusion" types of being-
embarrassed, see Vallelonga, 1986, pp. 695-765.) They are two sides of the same coin of
experienced disesteem. Further, there is a dialectical relationship between these two vicis-
situdes of personal esteem, and the experience of each calls for the experience of the other.
In fact, the experience of each can be included as a constituent in the fuller experience of
the other. Yet they are not the same event, and they can and do occur without each other.
One can be embarrassed-over-actual-exposure without experiencing, immediately or sub-
sequently, any self-disesteem at all. Similarly, one can experience self-disesteem apart from
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 151

any prior experience of interpersonal disesteem or any subsequent experience of (presump-

tive) actual interpersonal disesteem. Every experience of self-disesteem, however, calls for
and, it appears, requires the experience of at least potential interpersonal disesteem, that is,
being-self-consciously-embarrassed. The dialectical relationship between these two phe-
nomena, along with the equipotentiality of a shame-situation (discussed below), has
grounded much of the confusion between these two phenomena.
Before proceeding to the next comparison, the relationship between the two types of ex-
posure plus objectification exemplified by these two phenomena bears some discussion. My
research study demonstrated unequivocally that the occurrences of intra- and interpersonal
exposure plus objectifiCation (like being-ashamed and being-embarrassed) are dialectically
related as negative transformations of, respectively, self and world. Just as self and world are
mutually horizonal to each other (much like figure and ground), so also are their lived neg-
ative transformations. Each one calls for and leads into the experience of the other. It is for
this reason that most often the generic label "shame" is used to denote an experience that en-
tails both exposures. Thus, both being-guilty and being-ashamed entail the experience of at
least a correlative self-conscious-embarrassment. Likewise, most experiences of inter-
personal exposure tend to lead into other experiences of intrapersonal exposure.
Each of these kinds of dialectically related negative transformations (and exposures)
also serves as the central constituent for a group of cognate shame-phenomena. Thus, a neg-
ative transformation of present self (or intrapersonal exposure) is the central constituent of
being-ashamed, being-guilty, and being-regretful (along with their corresponding attitudes,
conscientiousness and shyness). On the other hand, a negative transformation of present
world (or interpersonal exposure) is the central and focal constituent in all types of being-
embarrassed, in being-humiliated/shamed, and being-disgraced/dishonored (as well as in
their corresponding attitudes, somatic and psychic modesty, tact/discretion, and shyness).

b. A Comparison of Being-Ashamed and Being-Guilty

Both being-ashamed and being-guilty are experiences of intrapersonal exposure and
self-disvaluation. Both entail the experience of a negative transformation of one's present
self that calls for the correlative negative transformation of one's present world in, at least,
being-self-consciously-embarrassed and of one's future self and world in being-anxious.
Against the background of these similarities, I can highlight the following differences:
Relative to the becoming-phase of these structures, the ground for being-ashamed can
be a deficiency in either the "doing" or "having" dimension and can entail either a moral or
a nonmoral failure. For being-guilty, the ground is only a moral failure in the "doing"
dimension. In addition, being-guilty requires various enabling maneuvers (i.e., self-
deceptive strategies) to accomplish the becoming-phase. Being-ashamed does not.
In the being phase, the primary difference between being-guilty and being-ashamed
is that the core constituent of the former consists in the felt perception of a single discrep-
ancy in moral "doing," while the core constituent of the latter consists in the felt-perception
of two discrepancies-a founding discrepancy in "doing" or "having" and a founded one in
"being." Thus, being-ashamed entails allowing one's deeds or characteristics to have nega-
tive definitional significance as to one's identity and worth (Le., a lived generalization),
while being-guilty does not. The focus remains on the discrepancy in moral "doing" in be-
ing guilty. In addition, there is only one mode or degree of being-guilty, but three of being-
 152 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

ashamed (Le., self-dislike, self-disgust, and self-hatred). Likewise, being-guilty tends to

mobilize one to action, while being-ashamed tends to discourage and demoralize one so
that effective action is undermined. Being-guilty thus can lead to personal integrity, while
being-ashamed can lead to personal disintegration (e.g., depression, despair).
The only notable difference in the getting-over-phase of both is that in being-ashamed
one can also accomplish, not just a real, but also an analogous version of atonement and a
firm purpose of amendment (to undo nonmoral discrepancies). Likewise, being-ashamed
can be resolved by explicitly undoing the lived generalization from "doing"/"having" to
"being."
Further, while Becker (1968) suggested that guilt may be an essential part of shame
and Ausubel (1955), on the other hand, indicated that shame is a part of guilt, my research
demonstrated that each can be a constituent in the fuller experience of the other. Thus, be-
ing-ashamed may be part of the being- and getting-over-phases of being-guilty, while be-
ing-guilty may be part of the becoming-phase of being-ashamed. Thus, being-guilty may be
an antecedent to or ground for being-ashamed. One is frequently ashamed on account of
moral failures, but one is also ashamed on account of other, nonmoral failures. Likewise,
being-ashamed may be a consequent or elaboration of being-guilty. Thus, one's being-guilty
frequently, but not always, develops into a being-ashamed.
It is also worth noting that these analyses disclosed that among the shame-phenomena,
the dialectic between transformation of self and world was not the only one operative. There
is also one among the three dimensions oflived time. Thus, the relationship between being-
embarrassed (all types), being-guilty, and being-ashamed, on one hand, and being-anxious,
on the other, entailed a dialectic between negative transformations of one's lived present and
lived future. Likewise, the relationship between being-ashamed, on one hand, and being-
ashamed-of-one's-past-self and being-disillusioned-in-oneself, on the other, entailed a di-
alectic between one's lived present and one's lived past. Similarly, the relationship between
being-guilty and being-ashamed disclosed another dialectic, that is, a quasi-dialectic be-
tween the "doing"l"having" dimensions and the "being" dimension.

3. The Equipotentiality of a Shame-Situation

After the essential lived structures of being-ashamed, being-embarrassed, and being-
guilty, were articulated, it became clear in my original research that several shame affects
(or their central felt perceptions of discrepancies) can and do occur together in dialecti-
cally connected clusters within the scope ofa single experienced situation. Thus, no mat-
ter whether one is inspecting a description of a situated experience of "shame" or
"embarrassment" (to mention two), one is likely to encounter descriptions of any combi-
nation of the following moments (among others): the perception of a discrepancy in
moral "doing" (being-guilty), the perception of some nonmoral failure (being-regretful),
the experience of some degree of disesteem of one's present self (being-ashamed), the ex-
perience of some form of public exposure plus objectification (being-embarrassed over
actual or potential exposure or intrusion), and the anticipation of various negative even-
tualities (being anxious). Each of these moments, however, serves as the core constituent
of a different shame-affect. That being so, the entire situation could legitimately be de-
nominated by the name for any ofthese affective moments, that is, as, respectively, being-
guilty, regretful, ashamed, embarrassed/humiliated/disgraced and anxious in the face of
AN INVESTIGATION OF BEING-ASHAMED 153

exposure. As is obvious, such ambiguity or denominational multivalence has, in fact, pro-

duced considerable confusion and controversy.
The point is that there are multiple moments that typically make up a shame-situation.
In addition, the shame-situation can be and is denominated differently by different authors
and experiencing individuals depending on which moment has the most significance for that
person. As we have seen above, the negative transformations of present, past, and future self
or world that form the core of the shame-affects can and do occur in dialectically connected
clusters within the same lived situation. How that situation is experienced and denominated
by the one who lives through it depends on which negative transformation stands out as fig-
ural for that person. Depending on which transformation stands out, the others (along with
the other typical constituents of shame-situations) get spontaneously organized around it. In-
deed, each situation can be spontaneously organized and experienced/denominated in as
many different ways as there are perceived negative transformations of self or world. This
state of affairs constitutes the "equipotentiality of a shame-situation."
What this means is that because of the dialectical relationships among the various trans-
formations of self and world across the three dimensions of lived time, there is a certain
amount of ambiguity that is inherent in the domain of shame-phenomena (and perhaps in the
domain of other emotional phenomena as well). My empirical-phenomenological investiga-
tion of shame has determined which constituents make up the structures of being-ashamed,
being-embarrassed, and being-guilty. It has even determined that these various constituents
generally occur in most shame-situations and that the specificity of the situation depends on
the organization spontaneously given to it by the person living through it. The specificity of
the situation is co-constituted by the person, not just on the level of the projects he or she is
living, but also on the level of what the person selects out perceptually as significant/figural
to him or her. What this means is that no researcher can, from the observer perspective alone,
examine a situation and declare with certainty that, because of the presence of such and such
constituents, the person has experienced or will characterize the situation in a particular or
specific way. We can only sketch out a range of possibilities. The actual character of the sit-
uation is determined by the person in interaction with the events/circumstances. Like Heisen-
berg's principle, the "equipotentiality of a shame-situation" declares that there is a certain
ineluctable "indeterminacy" attached to the shame-domain.
It is this ambiguity and equipotentiality of a shame-situation (founded on the underly-
ing dialectical dimension) that partially explains why different authors may, as indicated at
the beginning of this chapter, describe the same constituents yet denominate the experience
differently or speak of the same experience and thematize different constituents. It partially
explains why some authors consider the experience of self-disesteem a shame-affect in it-
self, while others consider it a constituent of either being-guilty or being-embarrassed. It
also partially explains the confusion in everyday life and in the literature between guilt and
shame, and between embarrassment and shame.

CONCLUSION

The research reported and summarized in this chapter has helped to elucidate the es-
sential "whatness" of being-ashamed and how it differs from that of being-embarrassed and
being-guilty, and has uncovered what seems to be much of the grounds for the persistent
 154 DAMIAN S. VALLELONGA

ambiguity in the domain of "shame." In addition, it has demonstrated, contrary to the as-
sertion by Fell (1965, p. 218), that emotional phenomena are particularly amenable to ex-
plication solely by the phenomenological means, that is, by an empirical-phenomenological
approach.

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 7

Latin American Women's

Experience of
Feeling Able to Move Toward
and Accomplish a Meaningful
and Challenging Goal
Tania Sherlock

INTRODUCTION

This chapter presents an existential-phenomenological study of, specifically, Latin Ameri-

can women's experience of feeling able to move toward and accomplish a meaningful and
challenging goal. The purpose of the study was threefold: (1) to elucidate the experience be-
ing investigated, (2) to add to the literature exploring women's consciousness, and (3) to
study the psychology of women who have had this experience, as well as the psychology
of women in Latin America.
The direction for this study was derived from an earlier pilot study I completed con-
cerning Latin American women and acculturation in which ten women from ten different
Latin American countries were interviewed. I was immediately struck by the fact that in
every case the members of this randomly selected group of women were able to significantly
improve the quality of their lives since arriving in this country. It became interesting to con-
sider the experience of those women who had been able to excel in Latin America in the
sense that they had been able to move toward and accomplish a goal that they considered

Tania Shertock • Institute ofTranspersonal Psychology, San Francisco, California 94131.

157
 158 TANIA SHERTOCK

meaningful. The study reported in this chapter explored the quality of their experience and
the means by which they felt able to empower themselves.
As did J. B. Miller (1991), I considered the definition of power in common usage as
concerned with augmenting one's own force by having authority and/or influence as well as
controlling and limiting others, as opposed to "the great ability to do, act, or produce"
(Gove, 1966). Denmark, Tangri, and McCandless (1978) had pointed out that research on
power had largely been focused on male subjects, male personality, and masculine spheres
of activity. According to Denmark et al. (1978), there was a dearth of research on power
motivation in women, and from their review of the literature, theoretical and experiential re-
search did not seem to take into account any different or unique relationship to power that
women might have.
Important theories concerning this subject have emerged from collaborators at the
Stone Center for Developmental Studies (Jordan, Kaplan, Miller, Stiver, & Surrey, 1991),
who created a series of documents that eventually served as a vehicle to provide alternate
descriptions of the traditional system of thought concerning the development of women.
For example, they proposed an alternate model of human interaction as "power with" or
"power together" or "power emerging from interaction," which contrasts with the more tra-
ditional "power over another" model. Surrey (1991) proposes that this more collaborative
model of power overrides the active/passive dichotomy of the dominant culture by suggest-
ing that all participants interact in ways to foster connection, in tum enhancing everyone's
personal power. The significance of this study lies in its exploration of the process of em-
powerment in a woman's lived experience.

A REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE: FROM THEORIES OF THE MATRIARCHY

TO SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH

This literature review spans many perspectives that address the psychology of women
and that are implied in researching the experience that is the central focus of this chapter.
A number of studies paint an early picture of a "woman's experience" in studies gathered by
scholars who have investigated goddess cultures. Bachofen (1967), Diner (1973), Lerner
(1986, 1993), Eisler (1987), and Gimbutas (1974) collectively document the wealth of in-
formation derived from archaeological log books and ancient texts on cultures that were
variously termed "matriarchal," "matrilineal," or "matrifocal," the existence of which dis-
counts the patriarchal proposition that the secondary roles of women are natural and di-
vinely ordained. It is evident that the current interest of many women in feminine
spirituality and the early goddess cultures may serve to inspire them toward a more positive
sense of female identity. These studies on the goddess cultures suggest a range of issues in-
volving self-empowerment in women-issues worthy of future research.
Concerning Latin American women, I examined their cultural context, including the
historical perspective, their relationship to the family, work, politics, and religion, and stories
collected from individual women (Shertock, 1994). It became evident that their understand-
ing and utilization of power were significantly different from those of First World women.
The literature of this area elucidates this relationship between Latin American women
and power. For example, Stevens (1973) and Lavrin (1987) contrast machismo to the exis-
tence of marianismo, which has been described in terms of feminine spiritual superiority.
Marianismo is a movement within the Roman Catholic church that has as its object the ven-
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 159

eration of the Virgin Mary, but its roots are in the ancient mother goddess cults in Europe in
which women were venerated as the creators of life. It has been translated into a special
form of authority within and outside the home whereby confrontations with men are
avoided and there is an understanding of the boundaries of power of each sex. Both Stevens
and Lavrin feel, however, that in today's society, the aforementioned value system, which
strengthens traditional gender roles and diffuses tensions in male-female relationships, is
likely to have undergone changes.
Chaney (1979) has explored how gender roles function outside the home. Her study,
entitled Supermadre, resulted from a survey she conducted with women in Chile and Peru.
She concludes that when women enter politics, they consider their activities as an extension
of their family role. Chaney refers to a woman official who described herself as a super-
madre and reflects on the positive aspects of women's concern with moral issues. She cites
Jaquette (1974), who describes this phenomenon in terms of women wielding formidable
power in certain spheres and behind closed doors, but laments that it is difficult to docu-
ment because it is subtle and hidden. Lerner (1986, pp. 4-5) says: "Women are and have
been central, not marginal, to the making of society and to the building of civilization ...
they are and always have been actors and agents in history."
Gross and Bingham (1985), for example, have documented a wealth of information
that portrays Latin American women who, through the power of collective action, have
changed the course of history in their countries. Among many examples are the Madres de
Playa de Mayo, who drew world attention to their missing children, the Arpilleras groups in
Pinochet's Chile, and a small group of Bolivian coal miners'wives who elicited the support
of 1200 people in the service of their cause by going on a hunger strike.
The inner resources that can assist women to accomplish their goals have also been ad-
dressed. For example, the Jungian approach to feminine consciousness and psychology is
symbolic and, as such, describes feminine forms of activity and understanding within all
people, men as well as women, rather than gender-based stereotypes. This approach is im-
portant precisely because it adds a dimension not present in this way in other schools of
thought. Eminent analyst and professor Ulanov (1971, 1981) explored the feminine princi-
ple. Emma Jung (1957) considered the anima and the animus to be archetypal figures of es-
pecially great importance. She contributed to the understanding of the animus, the
masculine principle, as it appears in its relation to the individual and to consciousness. She
chose to present the anima as an element of being, emphasizing its natural aspect, which
she considered the essence of the feminine.
Renowned writer and analyst Singer (1976) adds to this understanding with her work
on androgyny, as does Woodman (1982), who offers hope for women who find creative
potential in a partnership between their feminine principle, which moves in a spiral motion
toward what is meaningful, and the revitalized masculine principle, which has the penetrat-
ing power to inseminate and release the creativity of the feminine. Bolen (1984), with her
version of a new psychology of women, affirms the diversity of normal variations among
women by exploring the various goddess archetypes in order to provide women with addi-
tional means of understanding themselves.
According to Walsh (1987), no topic has produced more passion within the field of the
psychology of women than Freudian theory. The debates, as chronicled by Walsh, took
place between feminists who repudiated the Freudian paradigm (e.g., Greer, 1987) and
those who sought a rapprochement between psychoanalysis and feminism. A good example
is the controversy that surrounds the psychoanalytical tradition regarding Freud's theories
160 TANIA SHERTOCK

in relation to the development of feminine psychology and gender identity (see Horney,
1987; Klein, 1975; Mahler, Pine, & Bergman, 1975; Thompson, 1987). Various divergent
theories, including more sociologically based theories of gender and sex differences are de-
scribed below. More recent analytical contributors to the theory of women's psychology in-
clude Zanardi (1990), who points out that psychoanalysis was the first science to confront
the study of sexuality and that it became a means of identifying female sexual repression
and its psychological importance to the individual and social development of women. As
such, its contribution has been to surpass social determinism by changing the focus from
so-called "objective reality" to the subjective realm of intrapsychic processes.
As a founding member of the object relations school, Klein (1990) has contributed to
the discourse on feminine psychology through her psychoanalytical work with children.
She challenged Freud on his concept of an inferior superego formation in women.
Chodorow (1978) made a contribution by exploring the effects of women's mothering,
which, she says, "produces asymmetries in the relational experiences of girls and boys as
they grow up which account for crucial differences in feminine and masculine personality,
and the relational capacities and modes these entail" (p. 169). Chodorow (1989) presents a
perspective that moves away from the predominantly sociological point of view of her ear-
lier work toward one that emphasizes object relations theory. It takes into account the mul-
tiplicities of gender( ed) experiences.
Gilligan (1982) is renowned as one of a number of researchers who have established a
new paradigm for the psychology of women. She explored identity formation and moral de-
velopment and found that those who operated from this morality of responsibility and care,
primarily women, tend to value ongoing dialogue and communication in relation to the
problem and seek to develop an understanding of the context for the moral choice. She goes
on to propose that "women's sense of integrity appears to be entwined with an ethic of care,
so that to see themselves as women is to see themselves in a relationship of connection"
(p. 171). Other researchers have investigated gender identity, sex-role stereotyping and
adaptability, cross-cultural perspectives, the formation of morality and values, and attrib-
utes found in relation to success.
Belenky, Clinchy, Goldberger, and Tarule (1986) built on the work of Gilligan and ex-
amined women's ways of knowing based on the intensive interview/case study approach.
They describe a number of different perspectives from which "women view reality and
draw conclusions about truth, knowledge, and authority" (p. 67):

1. The Way of Silence-Represents an extreme denial of self and dependence on external author-
ity for direction.
2. Received Knowledge-Listening to the voices of others. Women who think of words as central
to the knowing process, and who learn by listening, mostly to authorities.
3. Subjective Knowledge A-Truth as private, personal, and subjectively known or intuited. Truth
resides within a person and can negate answers the outside world supplies.
4. Subjective Knowledge B-The Quest for Self: Women who have discovered personal authority
and truth and have gone from this newly acquired subjectivism to insist on shaping and direct-
ing their own world.
5. Procedural Knowledge A-Women who once relied on a mixture of received and subjective
knowledge, now look to feeling and intuition for some answers and authorities for others. They
later abandon both subjectivism and absolutism for reasoned reflection.
6. Procedural Knowledge B-Separate and Connected Knowing: Connected knowledge (gnosis)
represents an understanding through a direct, personal acquaintance with an object or person.
This view implies acceptance and precludes evaluation, since evaluation puts the object at a dis-
tance and quantifies a response to the object that would otherwise remain qualitative.
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 161

7. Separate Knowing-Uses standards to evaluate the analysis of something, knowledge being that
which implies separation from the object and mastery over it.
8. Constructed Knowing-Integrating the Voices: This way of knowing and viewing the world in-
volves an effort to reclaim the selfby attempting to integrate knowledge that they felt intuitively
was personally important with knowledge they had learned from others.

Loevinger (1976) offers a model of development of the self in relation to other, a

model devised and validated through research on women. Her autonomous stage reflects a
balance between the poles of the separation-connection continuum referred to by Gilligan
(1982) and Chodorow (1989) and in doing so provides a valuable indicator regarding the
psychology of women.
Maccoby and Jacklin (1974) have compiled an extensive review of more than 1200
works covering key areas such as intellect and achievement (perception, learning, memory,
intellectual abilities, cognitive styles, achievement motivation, and self-concept) and so-
cial behavior (temperament, social approach-avoidance, and power relationships). Their re-
sults indicate that measurable and proven sex differences are relatively few.
Cross-cultural research suggests that characteristics that are attached to men and women
vary according to culture. This research is important because it established culture as a deter-
minant in the development of gender identity. Margaret Mead's (1949) studies describe soci-
eties (the Arapesh, Tchanbuli, and latmul) in which expectations for male and female behavior
vary quite dramatically, leading her to conclude that cultures emphasize and reinforce behav-
ior according to varying criteria. Barry, Bacon, and Child (1957) used data from ethnographic
reports available in anthropological literature about socialization practices in 110 cultures.
Their results indicated an overwhelming reinforcement of nurturance, obedience, and re-
sponsibility for girls, and achievement and self-reliance for boys. They found, however, that
"there are many instances of no detectable sex differences; these facts tend to confirm the cul-
tural rather than directly biological nature of these differences" (p. 332).
Block (1973) discusses some socializing influences as they impinge on the development
of sexual identity. She examined the relationship between personal ego maturity and less tra-
ditional definitions of sex role by drawing on cross-cultural studies and longitudinal data.
Bern (1975) is recognized for her work equating androgyny with mental health and for
creating the Bern Sex Role Inventory. She then shifted her perceptive to what she terms Gen-
der Schema Theory (Bern, 1987). This theory contains aspects of social learning and cogni-
tive developmental theories and proposes that sex typing is a learned phenomenon. As such,
it is neither inevitable nor unmodifiable. Cantor and Bemay (1992) researched attributes of
women executives in business, government, and education that contributed to their success.
What stands out in these many different studies is that many of the successful women
studied perceived obstacles, not as obstacles, but rather as opportunities, and they did not
report any serious problems in their formative years. This goes back to the importance of
parenting emphasized by Dinnerstein (1976) and Chodorow (1978).

RESEARCH METHOD

In the spirit of phenomenological inquiry, I immersed myself in the literature of exis-

tential-phenomenology in order to shape a method that would best suit the nature of my
personal process and the experience I wished to research. The result is a blend of styles
from Colaizzi (1973, 1978), Giorgi (1985), and van Kaam (1959).
 162 TANIA SHERTOCK

Personal Inquiry
The fIrst step consisted ofa radical self-examination that Colaizzi (1973) terms indi-
vidual phenomenological reflection (IPR). This process involves the researcher's bringing
to awareness his or her preconceived notions and biases regarding the experience being in-
vestigated so that the researcher is less likely to impose these biases when interpreting the
subjects'reports of their experience. When later distilling the written descriptions in order
to reveal their inherent meaning, one brackets these preconceived notions or biases; that is,
one remains consciously aware of one's preconceptions while reading the descriptions so as
not to unconsciously impose these notions on the subjects' descriptions.
Colaizzi asserts that we, as researchers, must incorporate self-reflective knowledge
that we obtain from ourselves as conscious subjects in order to really understand the struc-
ture of the experiences being described by our fellow human beings.

Selection of Co-researchers
The term co-researcher will henceforth be used because it acknowledges the phe-
nomenological perspective that the emergent meaning is co-constituted by the description
of the experiences and the interpretive process of the one seeking the prereflective structure
of the experience. The co-researchers were selected on the basis of their having had the ex-
perience under investigation and their willingness and ability to provide a description of
that experience (polkinghome, 1989).
The co-researchers were 13 Latin American women who had the experience of feeling
able to move toward and accomplish a meaningful and challenging goal. They were asked
if in their view they had certain basic attributes as listed by van Kaam (1959): (1) having
had the experience under investigation, (2) feeling able to express themselves in written and
verbal fonn, (3) feeling able to express inner feelings without excessive shame and inhibi-
tion, (4) being able to sense and express the experiences that accompany these feelings, and
(5) feeling a spontaneous interest in the experience. Unlike Colaizzi (1978), who stated that
experience with the investigated topic and articulateness sufficed, van Kaam believed that
the capacity to provide full and sensitive descriptions required more skills. Consistent with
van Kaam's beliefs, co-researchers were informed that the process of reflection on their ex-
perience might bring them in contact with certain emotions. In being so informed, they
were given the opportunity to consider whether they were prepared and able to participate
in the research.
According to Polkinghome (1989), the selection of co-researchers in phenomenolog-
ical research differs from the logic of statistical sampling theory in that phenomenologists
have as their goal the description of the structure of an experience, not the characteristics of
a group that have had the experience. He goes on to say that the purpose of selecting sub-
jects is to generate a full range of variation in the set of descriptions, not to meet statistical
requirements for the purposes of generalization. The structure of the experience is derived
from a combination of empirical descriptions and additional descriptions generated from
imaginative thought experiments. The phenomenological researcher therefore needs to
choose an array of individuals who provide a variety of descriptions specific to the experi-
ence being explored.
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 163

Written Protocols
Van Kaam (1959) devised a means to elicit narrative descriptions. Using his method as
a model, the 13 co-researchers were given the following invitation in their native Por-
tuguese language:
1. Select a time and space where you can be alone, uninterrupted and relaxed.
2. Please describe your experience of feeling able to move toward and accomplish a
meaningful and challenging goal.
3. Recall a situation or circumstance in your life where you have been able to move to-
ward and accomplish a meaningful and challenging goal.
4. Please describe how you felt at those times.
5. Try to describe those feelings so that someone reading or hearing the report would
know just what the experience was like for you. Keep your focus on the experience,
not just the situation itself.
6. Please do not stop until you feel that you have described your feelings as com-
pletely as possible. Take as long as you would like to complete your description.

Interview
Following completion of the written protocols, the co-researchers scheduled a time for a
follow-up "walk through" interview, at which time they were given the following instructions:
We're going to walk through the experience together just the way you wrote it. I'll read a part
of it, then stop, and I would like for you to describe for me anything that comes to your mind about
the part of the experience I have just read. You may provide further details about it, describe any
thoughts or feelings you have, relate any images or metaphors that may come to your mind; in
short, just let yourself go and associate to what I've read to you in whatever way you choose until
you feel ready to stop. We'll then move on to the next part.

The purpose of this interview was to give each co-researcher the opportunity to deepen
her original description by including anything additional that now came to mind. Once in
the "walk-through" situation, however, I soon realized that the interviews needed to be
more interactive and interpretive than had originally been planned. The intricacies involved
with the differences in language and cultural context offered a larger ground for misinter-
pretation than was initially recognized. This necessitated my asking specific questions in
the moment designed, in the spirit of collaboration, to correct any misperceptions the co-
researcher may have had. Throughout this time, I adopted the following stance suggested by
Wertz (1984) for conducting interviews with one's co-researchers:
1. Empathic presence to the described situation.
2. Slowing down and patiently dwelling with the interviewee on the details of the de-
scription.
3. Magnification, amplification of the details.
4. Turning from objects to immanent meanings.
5. Suspending disbelief and employing intense interest.
Of the 13 interviews, 9 were conducted in Portuguese and 4 in English. An interpreter
was present for those conducted in Portuguese as a consultant on an as-needed basis. These
164 TANIA SHERTOCK

interview reports were recorded on tape and then typed verbatim. For those interviews that
were conducted in Portuguese, the transcriptions were translated, careful attention being
paid to remaining as close as possible to the original meaning and flavor, even when the
grammar and syntax were not entirely consistent' with those of English. Each translation
was checked by several translators and, finally, carefully rechecked by the researcher to en-
sure that the original essence of the communication was preserved.

Protocol Analysis
The protocol analysis was partially adapted from Colaizzi (1973) and is outlined below:
1. The protocols were carefully read through in order to acquire a feeling for them.
2. Bracketing my biases, significant statements were then identified, for each proto-
col, as directly pertaining to the experience being investigated.
3. All the protocols were then reread several times until the significant statements
across all protocols began to emerge or suggest themselves as categories or
themes. As Colaizzi states, the number of categories that manifest is based solely
on the classifications into which the explicit statements naturally group them-
selves. He goes on to say that the actual protocol statements, and not any derived
interpretation of them, determine the number and type of category.
4. The protocols were then reread with the categories in mind to check for the com-
prehensiveness of the categories. Starting from a preliminary sense of its nature,
a deeper and more integral understanding of each category was thus developed.
5. Each categorized statement in each category was then "translated" from its raw
form to what are termed "components" for the purpose of communicating their
meaning more clearly. Colaizzi describes this step as formulating meaning, by
means of creative insight in order to delineate the meaning of each statement.
6. Steps 1-5 were then repeated for the interview data. The data collected in the in-
terview were then compared and integrated with the written protocols.
7. All the written and interview components in all categories were then combined
into a series of statements called fundamental descriptions (FDs) by the method of
phenomenal study (PS) (Colaizzi, 1973). That is, the researcher focuses on the
main phenomenon being studied as it was experienced, and culls out the essence
of that particular description. Husserl (in Polkinghorne, 1989, p. 42) elucidates
this process as follows:
In practice, the process leading to grasping the essential pattern of a structure usually re-
quires a careful working through and imaginative testing of various descriptions of an
essence, until the essential elements and their relationship are differentiated from the
unessential and particular.

8. For each category, the researcher calculated the percentage of co-researchers

whose descriptions contained that particular category (van Kaam, 1959). The per-
centages provide a more detailed sense of the variety of expression.
9. The fundamental descriptions were then examined in light of the original descrip-
tions to check for their validity. This process of checking, which is utilized at each
step until the final structure is distilled, involves a zig-zag procedure described by
Polkinghorne (1989), whereby the researcher moves back and forth between the
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 165

significant statements, the components, and the fundamental descriptions to en-

sure that the results accurately reflect the original raw descriptions.
10. Based on Colaizzi (1973), the researcher then reflected on the fundamental de-
scriptions and synthesized them in a way that recognized and held their essence.
This process involved tying together and integrating the fundamental descriptions
into consistent and systematic general descriptions or fundamental structural
themes. Colaizzi describes this process as empirical phenomenological reflection
(EPR).
Von Eckartsberg (1986, p. 51) summarizes Colaizzi's reasoning for the distinctiveness
of the operational steps in his method:
The difference between the findings regarding the fundamental description (FD) and the fun-
damental structure (FS) is seen to arise from a difference in focus on two layers of existence: re-
flective and prereflective life. Whereas the FD is a description of the subject matter in its reflective
dimension which is thematically present to the subject's experience and can thus be directly re-
ported upon request, as an appearance, the FS represents a structural elucidation of the prereflec-
tive dimensions which cannot be directly accessed by the subjects but which can be revealed to and
elucidated by the reflective explication of the investigator by the act of interpretive reading.

In the study presented herein, the fundamental descriptions are synonymous with the de-
scribed FD, while the FS is represented by the fundamental structural themes.

RESULTS

The prereflective structure implicit in the original protocols and interview transcrip-
tions emerged as the following 18 categories (it should be noted that the comparison between
the written protocols and the interview descriptions did not reveal any new categories):
1. Having a sense of knowing about, or believing in, their capacity and ability to
achieve goals that they set for themselves.
2. Identifying needs, goals, and/or desires.
3. Having the ability to conceptualize ideas clearly, to construct an effective plan
from the idea, and to organize, mobilize, and stimulate others to help realize the
plan.
4. Having a sense that support from the environment (which provides strength to
move forward) is derived from either the father, the mother, the husband, friends,
teachers, or employees.
5. Feeling able to move forward despite obstacles, even if the task seemed impossi-
ble, when entering a previously all-masculine environment.
6. Experiencing work as important and feeling that one has to work very hard. One
grows externally and internally, feeling happy about this change.
7. Liking and needing challenge, experiencing challenge as motivating, as empow-
ering, as providing meaning, and as a source of learning.
8. Feeling that the work is necessary for society, and as pioneering, opening oppor-
tunities/spaces as yet unavailable to others; feeling the need to contribute or give
something back to society, that competitiveness and aggressiveness are not only
unnecessary, but counterproductive to accomplishing goals.
166 TANIA SHERTOCK

9. Feeling satisfied by the result or outcome of accomplishing the goal.

10. Feeling that it is important to work in conjunction with others and that the move-
ment toward the goal has a participatory constituent.
11. Feeling that past education is important.
12. Acknowledging one's sociocultural origins.
13. Seeing the ability of moving toward a goal as a process that is applicable to goals
in general.
14. Feeling helped or propelled by unseen forces, God, or divine providence.
15. Feeling an independence.
16. Feeling able to move forward for extended periods of time with one-pointed dy-
namism, enthusiasm, willpower, courage, and fighting spirit.
17. Acknowledging the importance of balancing family life with professional goals.
18. Having a major life event precipitated by external circumstances provide the im-
petus to either decide on or change one's life direction.

Fundamental Structural Themes

Following are the fundamental structural themes derived from step 10 of the analysis
described in the Protocol Analysis section. Let us look at each of these themes in tum.

1. A Self-Reinforcing Cycle of Confidence

Many of the co-researchers in this study experienced an innate knowledge that they
would be able to accomplish the goal that they had set for themselves. This was either a
long-standing intuitive awareness about themselves that overshadowed doubts and fears or
a sense/knowing that developed during a process whereby the accomplishment of one goal
added to the person's confidence in being able to accomplish others. While they were not
able to offer a logical explanation, they were aware of this strength that arose from within
them. There was also a need or desire to give expression to this awareness that then devel-
oped into a life-path decision and subsequent goals.

2. Sociocultural-Political Origins and Events Outside Their Control

When describing their experience, many co-researchers began by characterizing their
socioeconomic and cultural background or ascribed significance to it as a constituent of
their experience of first feeling willing and then able to move toward significant goals. In
many cases, it was the example of one or both parents who inspired them with a value sys-
tem that placed a high value on work and education combined with an awareness of their
limitless potential. This inspiration engendered, in many instances, love and enjoyment of
both work and the process of learning derived through education or life lessons.
Another significant constituent was the nature of interpersonal relationships within the
family or community that provided support, encouragement, or assistance that the co-
researcher was able to translate into feelings of security, self-worth, or motivation to move
forward. In some cases, there was a desire to balance reciprocal emotional support with the
demands of professional career.
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 167

In many instances, circumstances beyond their control forced co-researchers to cross-

roads in their life at which they felt obliged to reexamine their life direction and make
choices about the manner in which they would proceed. These events were either political
or personal, and provoked deeply felt life changes.

3. A Vision of Community Purpose and the Stimulation of Lateral

Participatory Activity
Co-researchers felt able to envision their ideas very clearly and construct viable plans
to implement them. This involved the ability to organize and prioritize and also to motivate
and empower others to participate in the plans in order to bring them to fruition. The driv-
ing force behind this ability was perceived in direct relation to how necessary the co-
researchers felt their plans to be for the society in general. In many cases, co-researchers
felt that it was essential for them to feel that their work was of benefit to the larger society.
Concurrent with this was the idea that they were opening spaces and creating new op-
portunities rather than competing with others. Interdependence was implied throughout the
descriptions, including their working relationships with men. While many of their experi-
ences involved working harder than men to prove their competence, their attention was gen-
erally on performing their work to the best of their ability and cooperating with the future
vision of the project in mind. Many experienced great personal satisfaction from having
been able to accomplish their goals, and this satisfaction was increased for some by the
knowledge that they had made a difference in the lives of others.

4. Constituents of Their Ability to Continue Movement Toward the Goal

For some, the challenge itself engendered enthusiasm and the requisite strength to con-
tinue moving forward. In most cases, the co-researchers were able to move past obstacles,
such as the challenges presented by entering into a predominantly male environment or re-
sistance from others to their ideas. In some cases, they converted people to their position by
the use of effective communication skills; in other cases, they concentrated their attention
on getting the job done well rather than giving the obstacle the power to impact them. For
example, some actually said that discrimination exists, but they simply paid no attention to
it. In many circumstances, they were able to move forward, tolerating the perception of oth-
ers that they were operating outside sociocultural norms for women.
Most co-researchers reported being able to face and move through their own weariness,
insecurity, and fears in order to maintain their forward momentum. Many felt that once they
had made a commitment to a goal, they were able to continue moving forward with perse-
verance and strong intentionality, without allowing themselves to become distracted until
they reached their goal. Some were convinced that it was important to maintain positive
emotional and mental states such as passion for the work, spiritedness, optimism, and en-
thusiasm. While only a few co-researchers mentioned independence specifically, the extent
of their achievements is testament to the development of a high level of independence.
Finally, some co-researchers experienced a source of what they termed "spiritual
power or strength" that guided them or assisted them when they felt the need for it. From
their particular spiritual perspective, they regarded difficult and challenging experiences
168 TANIA SHERTOCK

as preparation for larger humanitarian purposes and were able to perceive certain opportu-
nities as signs from the divine regarding their life purpose.

REFLECTIONS, EXAMPLES, AND INTEGRATION

In many ways, the results of this study substantiate the theories of the Stone Center
writers and other proponents of a new psychology of women (reviewed above) by revealing
the relational contexts and modes the co-researchers operated within. They also indicate
similarities in feminine consciousness that occur cross-culturally, especially the inclination
(or drive) to relate/connect, and offer a greater understanding of the collective work of Latin
American w.omen and the structures that they have built to accomplish this work.
The Jungian approach emphasized the interaction between the masculine and feminine
principles. When considering the meaning of this approach, it seems evident that many of the
co-researchers have found a way to balance these principles within themselves and integrate
this sense of balance into their relations with men in the outer world. There are, however, cer-
tain realities to consider when choosing to work and function in a cultural context that is
largely dominated by patriarchal values and standards. These co-researchers expressed a
choice to retain what they considered to be feminine attributes and values while moving into
male-dominated spheres of influence. One person, a police commissioner, emphasized her
humble origins and a desire to remain true to herself, including the notion to remain femi-
nine within a police department that was perceived as arbitrary, brutal, and violent. She de-
scribed her interpersonal working style as "stimulating others with kind words."
The theme of participation, where women work alongside men, resonated through
many of the descriptions and reflected the dynamic side of the feminine described by Ulanov
(1971) as an urge to relate, join, reach to, and get involved with concrete things and people,
and not to abstract or theorize. One co-researcher attested, for example, that she would not
write her speeches or allow them to be written ahead of time because she wished to base
what she said on the nature of the personal interaction between herself and the audience.
Another co-researcher concluded that political changes can come about only through civil-
ian, grass-roots participatory movements, and she began moving toward the goal of bringing
people together in a nonviolent fashion. Another felt that unless there was a high degree of
participation and agreement for a project, it probably was not worth pursuing.
Another aspect of this participatory theme emerges in their descriptions of helping
to build up and maintain organizational structures designed to promote societal change.
This desire appears consistent with J. B. Miller's (1976) criterion of attachment and af-
filiation. One co-researcher helped to create an organization that would help women learn
to come together to develop themselves professionally and personally in a spirit of coop-
eration. Another helped to start an association similar to the League of Women Voters that
would influence politics for the benefit of society at large. A third created an organization
that promoted awareness and worked for change on behalf of the physically challenged
population.
Another aspect of feminine consciousness described by Ulanov (1971) as feminine
comprehension was expressed in the descriptions as a sense of knowing where there is an
awareness about something. In this case, it appears that the co-researchers' awareness of
their capacity to achieve their goals seemed to arise from within rather than a situation in
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 169

which they willed or thought out their ideas in a linear fashion. For example, one co-
researcher described her process as follows:

Sometimes I get tired and discouraged. Then something new will happen. Something new
shows up and changes everything, opening another door. And I know I am meant to walk through
it. So I do.

The Jungian approach also addresses the positive aspects of the masculine principle
that, when realized in a woman, provide the ability to choose, discriminate, and find the
strength of purpose to move toward a goal. The co-researchers in this study have all found
this capacity within themselves, and could also be said to exhibit what Bem (1975) terms
psychological androgyny in the sense that they display sex-role adaptability by being able
to discern a goal and gather the fortitude to move forward and accomplish it.
Hemphill (1989) concludes that an important and potentially healing result of her
study on the upward-mobility experience of executive females is that it invites the realiza-
tion that success is an individual process and not simply gender-related. In the same way, I
see the experience of the women in this study as indicative of the kind of experience that
will eventually transform the overemphasis that our society currently gives to gender dif-
ferences. One co-researcher said that after she had successfully integrated herself into a pre-
viously all-male domain, the women who came after her were not subjected to the same
scrutiny and were judged far more on the basis of their competence.
The importance attributed to their family of origin by the women of this study is cen-
tral here. Koltuv (1990) posits that the animus is formed out of the experience a woman has
with her father or her mother's animus. In other words, if a woman has developed a strong,
healthy relationship with her own masculine principle due largely to role models who have
been able to accomplish meaningful projects in their lives, there is a stronger possibility that
she will accomplish such projects herself. Many of the co-researchers referred to their fa-
ther or mother as positive role models and inspirations for their life-path decisions. One co-
researcher saw her father struggle against poverty, disaster, and a variety of misfortunes to
create a substantial livelihood to feed his family with very little more than ingenuity and
hard work. Another described how her father improved his situation by working and study-
ing and later became successful in many and varied careers. She herself became an accom-
plished businesswoman, writer, and sculptor. This same co-researcher described her mother
as the landmark of her life and asserted that it would have been very difficult for her to
achieve what she did without the support and assistance provided by her mother.
Family dynamics were also addressed as important constituents of the co-researchers'
experience. Many of them described parents or a parent who encouraged them to do what-
ever they chose regardless of the accepted social norms. One respondent was specifically
encouraged by her father to become a doctor, a vision so far outside the societal expecta-
tions for her sex or class as to almost seem impossible. Another co-researcher believed that
her enthusiasm to complete her goals came from her parents, who always encouraged her to
do whatever she wanted to do.
Loevinger's (1976) autonomous stage people have the capacity to acknowledge and
cope with inner conflict and conflicting needs and duties. They recognize that there are
limits to autonomy and that emotional interdependence is inevitable. Many of the co-
researchers expressed the importance of emotional interdependence whether it was in the
workplace or balancing the demands of family and work and, in doing so, indicated a high
170 TANIA SHERTOCK

level of maturity. Two co-researchers stressed the importance of balancing the giving and
receiving of family support in conjunction with work responsibilities. They were also able
to acknowledge inner conflict and move through it with their larger humanitarian goal in
mind. One co-researcher said:
In the same way as the consciousness grows, the responsibility increases, gets bigger propor-
tionally, very rapidly. The realization that the difficulties that are given are also more complex
brings forth the enormous desire to continue to fight for the common good, to better the quality of
life of the population of my country.

Another expressed a great deal of initial despair in relation to her medical school experi-
ences, but was able to move through it because she knew she had something to offer in
terms of an alternative to the medical attention that she had received as a patient.
In the sense that many of the co-researchers felt it necessary for their work to be of
benefit to society at large, their words reflect the characteristics described by Gilligan
(1982). They were able to keep moving toward their goals specifically because they knew
that what they were doing was necessary for the community at large. They felt connected to
their community at large and needed by it. One woman stated:
You feel fulfilled. It's the sensation offulfillment. It's great, it's gratifying because it's not
purely and simply that you have done a job but that you have been able to help people. This is im-
portant. I have this great need to do people a good tum, to work for the community, to do some-
thing that helps the community, to alleviate the suffering and uncertainty, the unhappiness of the
people.

This aspect of the relational is evident in the literature on Latin American women. F.
Miller (1991), for example, underlines Lerner's (1986) assertion that women's history in the
Latin American context is part of the search for social and political justice for all people.
This was certainly true for the co-researchers involved with politics. Several indicated that
their involvement in politics was not without considerable risk to themselves and their fam-
ilies, but they were able to continue drawing on an inner strength, one aspect of which was
a connection to their commitment to their life mission. One reports:
Before finishing my second year, I abandoned classes to do political action. I was arrested and
after my release from jail, I had difficulties to find work in my city, Salvador, so I moved to Sao
Paulo. I arrived here in the beginning of the seventies, the worst phase of the military dictatorship
and repression. Despite continuing being loyal to my political ideals, I did not want to run the risk,
I thought I had a right to be happy. I had a great challenge in front of me: how to reconcile making
money and continue to be loyal to my principles. That's when I discovered children's literature and
the necessity of reading in a country of a low cultural level such as Brazil. I think I mastered this
challenge very well, not only because I realized a pioneering and important work; I was the first
'person to be under contract as an editor to edit only children's books, because I realized that with
this work I could succeed in earning a salary with which I could live with dignity, without betray-
ing or renouncing principles.

Another woman described intense and very realistic fears that she had for the safety
of her family and herself. Yet, she persevered and felt empowered by knowledge that she
was working for the good of the city, a process that, in her own words, was irresistible.
She says:
Then-something will happen. Something new shows up and changes everything, opening
another door. And I know I am meant to walk through it. So I do. And sometimes I'm scared.
Sometimes there is hostility, the very real danger of physical aggression. Sometimes I fear for my
family and their safety, and mine, and I feel quite helpless-and from way down deep inside, I feel
the strength return. From somewhere.
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 171

The experiences expressed by women who engaged in political activity in this study
are poignant examples of themes running through the literature on Latin American women.
The concept ofmarianismo referred to by Stevens (1973), for example, is a significant dis-
tinguishing feature of Latin American feminine consciousness as it describes one of the
ways the feminine currently functions in Latin America, and because of its connection to
the ancient matriarchies. In this sense, there is a connection to the literature concerning the
return to goddess consciousness, a consciousness that was always there but hidden and not
spoken of for its own protection.
In the area of political activity, an important distinction between Latin American and
North American women needs to be emphasized. Jaquette (1976) invites us to an expanded
notion of female political participation via her examination of Latin American women's
participation in groups and the roles they have played in informal networks of communica-
tion and influence. Throughout the literature, it is suggested that the political participation
of Latin American women is not always overt and obvious but is nevertheless powerful.
Latin American women's particular style of influence is fertile ground for research with vast
interdisciplinary implications, including sociology, political science, and Latin American
feminine consciousness.
The study presented in this chapter has shown that there are similarities in feminine
consciousness that occur cross-culturally, especially the drive to connect, and interdepen-
dent modes of operating. In addition to this, however, as Angeles Arrien (personal commu-
nication) has stated, the feminine in Latin America has multiple ways of connecting to
achieve political and social ends. As evidenced in both past literature and in this study, there
is a much greater tendency for Latin American women to work together in a group than is
generally seen in the political participation of North American women. I concur with Arrien
that North American women have a greater tendency to imitate the male model of doing it
alone, whereas Latin American women have a greater understanding of collective work.
Throughout my study, women emphasized the need to generate cooperation. They view the
achievement of goals as accomplished by the fostering of collective motivation.
Chaney's (1979) concept of supermadre sheds light on the means by which a woman
can enter into a male-dominated domain and accomplish change. The co-researchers who
worked in the political arena expressed a desire to work for education and the creation of a
good community, using empathy, intuition, and cooperation (which Chaney describes as
predominantly female characteristics). One co-researcher started her political career with
the intention of helping disabled individuals, but eventually began to focus on helping all
those on the margins of society and assisting them to become more integrated into the so-
ciety. She describes her attention to the inner, human, psychological, and moral aspects of
the isolated people of her constituency.
Another important theme that emerged from this study was the inclination to open new
spaces and create new opportunities. The co-researchers described this impetus in terms of
creating new areas of endeavor and addressing needs formally not addressed by the society,
rather than competing on the grounds already established by others. Although the literature
does not make specific reference to this aspect or theme, there are many examples of
women who used unconventional means to move toward their political goals, including the
women who protested in the Plaza de Mayo in Buenos Aries, the participants of the
Arpilleras groups in Chile, the Bolivian coal miners' wives, and the many others who used
other forms of parapolitical behavior to achieve their goals (see Gross & Bingham, 1985).
172 TAN IA SHERTOCK

McManus (1991) describes the Mothers of Courage, or Madres, in Argentina and the non-
violent methods they used to combat the military junta. McManus (1991, pp. 96-97) de-
scribes what he believes to be the true legacy of the Madres:
. . . simple truths, stated in measured tones, carrying great moral authority. The Madres
pricked the conscience of many in Argentina and abroad. They became the conscience of their peo-
ple. And in so doing, they saved many from degradation and despair. They lit the candle in honor
of human dignity and protected it with their lives .... Asked to look back and explain the signifi-
cance of their struggle, Juanita Pargament (Madres treasurer) replies, "To have learned that when
a moral witness uplifts a country, truly it is a great merit. And our country has achieved respect here
and abroad precisely for this."

The findings in my study correspond to Hemphill's (1989) results in that the co-
researchers found that their ability to overcome obstacles and barriers fortified their sense
of competence. They transcended roadblocks through various methods, concentrating on
the task at hand and not allowing themselves to be distracted. While they did not deny the
existence of these obstacles, they refused to allow them to be a significant problem. One
co-researcher said:

I never felt discriminated against, but I was discriminated against. It has always been like
this. There is not a woman in this country that does not suffer discrimination, but I never felt it,
never.

This statement points to the attitude that the co-researchers held toward challenges and
the process of overcoming obstacles. Some relished and enjoyed the challenge itself and
even felt the need to continue to find challenges. Others felt that the challenges were part of
their life path's lessons and, as such, prepared them for important work. It appears that hav-
ing a positive attitude toward obstacles and seeing them as opportunities is an important
constituent of the experience of feeling able to move toward a difficult goal. Cantor and
Bernay (1992) were surprised to find that their participants saw obstacles as opportunities,
concluding (p. 282): "It's not that there are no obstacles to women's success in our culture,
but the psychological 'comfort zones' provided by these women's early lives buffeted them
from the impact of the obstacles."
Some co-researchers reported an event or series of events that interrupted the flow of
their lives and played a part in shifting their perspectives. Two examples involved severe
physical trauma, and one involved arrest and imprisonment. After this event, they made de-
cisions about the course their lives would take and developed a strong conviction that they
would be able to reach meaningful goals. The tragic life events seemed to empower them
to move forward.
This study stands in contrast to much of the literature on Latin American women in
that it validates the individual woman's struggle to overcome internal and external obstacles
to make her life meaningful without projecting blame. There is a remarkable lack of focus
on oppression despite the acknowledgment that it exists. One respondent, a police com-
missioner, reports:

I'm happy. I'm at peace with myself, have no traumas, no frustrations, in whatever I do I'm
happy. This is the important thing. All the difficulties I encountered in my life; this is what happens
to all people. In my case I could never tell you about the suffering that I had to endure to arrive at
this point in time. No, I'm not saying that I never ever suffered, but I struggle and fight and have no
time to suffer. I really don't have time for that. . . . It [discrimination1did happen, but I never re-
ally felt it.
LATIN AMERICAN WOMEN'S EXPERIENCE OF ACCOMPLISHING GOALS 173

This passage illustrates the perspective that successful people view obstacles differ-
ently from unsuccessful people. All these women, to one degree or another, personify fem-
inine values in practice and in doing so provide eminent role models for those privileged to
come into contact with them. They have been able to maintain the integrity of their femi-
nine value system while utilizing the masculine principle within themselves to move out
into the world and in order to materialize goals that benefit the larger society. This study has
revealed aspects of both the behavioral and psychological dimensions of this masculine-
feminine integration. The transpersonal-spiritual implications of this intrapersonal process
offer a promising area for future phenomenological research.

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 8

The Intentionality of
Psychodiagnostic Seeing
A Phenomenological Investigation
of Clinical Impression Formation
Scott D. Churchill

A phenomenologically based psychology seeks to investigate the phenomena of human ex-

perience as manifested in concrete situations. One of the specific interests of phenomeno-
logical psychology is how consciousness is involved in structuring the world of everyday
life: What is going on such that there is l this or that experience? How is experience given to
us, both as lived and as known? The "givenness" of experience refers to both the active and
the passive ways in which the experiencing person becomes aware of something. Such an
interest is characteristic of the phenomenologist's focus upon the "constitution" of experi-
ence. Previous philosophical investigations of constitution (Husserl, 1973, 1982, 1989)
have given us the concept of "intentionality," which refers to the structural (i.e., dynamic,
dialectical, and irreducible) relationship between the perceiver and the perceived. An inten-
tional analysis of experience is an examination of the ways in which the perceiver is present
to an object such that there is a thematic grasp of the object as having a particular quality or
meaning. Phenomenological philosophy raises the question of givenness or constitution at

tHere I am making implicit reference to Heidegger's (1968) later thinking regarding the origins of being: the es
gibt (literally, "it gives," but more typically translated as "there is"). Heidegger invites us to reflect upon the "it"
that "gives" experience. In his earlier work, Heidegger (1962) locates being in Da-sein ("being-there"), that is, the
(human) being that is the "there" ("da 'J where meaning arises.

Scott D. Churchill • Department of Psychology, University of Dallas, Irving, Texas 75062.

175
176 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

the transcendentat2 level, that is, within the realm of "pure" subjectivity. In contrast, an ex-
istential-phenomenological psychology at the empirical level takes as its domain the inten-
tionality of human subjects in specific situations.
In a study I conducted some years ago, the question of how experience is given or con-
stituted was addressed in the situation of psychodiagnostic interviewing (Churchill, 1984a,
b). Although texts on psychodiagnostic assessment are filled with discussions of the various
instruments, techniques, standard procedures, and interview formats to be adopted by as-
sessors, there is a notable absence of research on the psychologist's own experience within
the psychodiagnostic interview. My interest was to articulate a phenomenological under-
standing of the psychologist's experience during a clinical assessment interview for the pur-
pose of better understanding how impressions of personality are co-constituted by the
psychologist's unique style of attentive presence. Although practicing psychologists gener-
ally acknowledge that they themselves are "instruments" of psychodiagnosis, one finds lit-
tle in the clinical research literature clarifying concretely how, in fact, the psychologist is
involved both actively and passively as a perceiving agent in the task of psychodiagnosis.
One reason for this absence of research might be that "the art of clinical examination comes
from attitudes and qualities that are neither obtained nor easily detected by scientific proce-
dures: the clinician's awareness of people and human needs" (Feinstein, 1967 [quoted in
Enelow & Swisher, 1979, p. 7]). Indeed, empirical research on clinical inference and clinical
judgment has focused largely on data processing and decision making, while the lived expe-
rience of the diagnostician is dismissed as nonaccessible to investigation.
The problem I faced was thus a methodological one. Spiegelberg (1975, p. 237) has
pointed out that in studying any form of person perception, "there seems to be no escape
from claiming some kind of priority to the individual consciousness in which the we-phe-
nomenon takes shape." Erik-son (1958, p. 67) likewise observed that "indeed, there is no
choice but to put [the clinician's] subjectivity in the center of an inquiry into evidence and
inference in clinical work." Holt (1971, p. 11) has acknowledged that there are "informal"
processes of observing and listening to the client that do "not generally operate by means
of a highly conscious, rational, explicit drawing of inferences"; the actual forming of a clin-
ical impression is a spontaneous event that "typically happens outside the spotlight of our
fullest (orfocal) awareness." In this sense, "informal assessment" might be seen as an ex-
ample of what Polanyi (1966) referred to as "tacit knowing." Some of the behavioral cues
from the assessee, as well as experiential phenomena on the side of the clinician, are
"known" to the clinician only to the extent that they tacitly signify something else that does
become thematic, namely, the personality of the subject. The informal processes at work in
assessment would include everyday modes of person perception such as empathy, intuition,

2The term "transcendental" refers here to the a priori characteristics of consciousness that exist apart from the
contingencies of its engagement in this or that "transcendent" (or "objective") reality. Husser! uses the adjective
"transcendental" in reference to consciousness when the latter is viewed through the purifying reflection of the
phenomenological reduction; the adjective "transcendent" refers to those objective realities that remain "outside"
one's focus after performing the reduction. "Transcendent" as used here should therefore not be confused with its
spiritual meaning within the discourse of transpersonal psychologists. Outside the phenomenological tradition,
"transcendent" is often used to refer to a sacred dimension. If such a dimension were to be found in Husser!, it
would more proper!y belong to what he calls the "transcendental realm." Commenting in 1925 upon the teachings
of Gautama Buddha, Husser! made the following remark: "Indeed, the purest essence of Indian religiosity ... is,
I would say, not so much 'transcendent' as 'transcendental'" (cited in Hanna, 1996, p. 367). Later, in The Crisis
ofEuropean Sciences and Transcendental Phenomenology. Husser! (1970b, p. 137) would remark that the tran-
scendental attitude of the phenomenologist was perhaps "destined in essence to effect, at first, a complete per-
sonal transformation, comparable in the beginning to a religious conversion."
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 177

snap judgments, stereotyping, attribution, and projection. There is also the psychologist's
"biographical presence" (C. T. Fischer, 1978, p. 214), which refers to the multitude of ways
that one's personal and professional history is co-constitutive of one's "clinical" impres-
sions. It is this "subjective" side of the assessment process that researchers of clinical judg-
ment seek to systematize in the interest of making clinical intuition more reliable: "As soon
as the methods of science are applied to an informal, everyday process, it begins to turn into
a discipline ..." (Holt, 1971, p. 43).
Psychologists attempting to investigate the clinician's "subjectivity," however, have
complained that the clinician's thinking is too "impressionistic" (Marks, Seeman, & Haller,
1974), "complex" (Lanyon, 1972), or too "private, quasi-rational and non-repeatable"
(Hammond, 1966) to be studied empirically. Thus, some researchers would be deterred
from a phenomenological approach to studying clinical impression formation because it ap-
pears that psychologists' judgments are a "function of a process that they cannot trace"
(Hammond, 1966, p. 18). The result of this disparaging stance toward the clinician's capac-
ity for self-examination is a body of research that fails to illuminate in a comprehensive way
how clinicians are "subjectively" involved in the assessment process.
What the research on clinical judgment has contributed is an evaluation of: (1) the rel-
ative utility of various kinds of information used for making clinical decisions, (2) the rel-
ative efficiency of different methods of processing information, and (3) the relative value of
possible decisions regarding treatment. Researchers of clinical judgment have, in effect, ab-
stracted clinical judgment from the rest of the clinician's experience and treated it as an iso-
lated information-processing activity. Instructive clinical texts continue to dwell almost
exclusively on the tasks of "formal" assessment-namely, testing and data interpretation
(e.g., Aiken, 1996; Cramer, 1996; Sperry, 1995) or "what to look for" during the clinical in-
terview (e.g., McWilliams, 1994; Morrison, 1995}-while alluding only obliquely to the
fundamental task of the assessor to elicit and perceive the data in the first place. The irony
is that clinical inference is thought to be more "empirical" when it is based just upon ob-
jective test data-that is, when it is not grounded in the clinician's experience. To the extent
that the psychologist's own involvement within the assessment process is clearly a "func-
tion of covert processes" (Sullivan, 1954, p. 54), these processes ought to be brought to
light so that their influence can be properly evaluated.
Returning to the methodological issue raised earlier, the question for me was how to
make the clinician's subjectivity accessible. Based on an inspiration from Husserl's (1973,
1982, 1989) own investigations into the intentionality of experience, I conceived my re-
search as an intentional analysis of the psychologist's acts ofconsciousness insofar as they
are directed toward understanding a person in the context of psychodiagnostic assessment.
The research was thus a "return to beginnings" in the psychologist's experience-an at-
tempt to bring into focus the way that clinical impressions originate in the psychologist's il-
luminating presence to the client.

THE RESEARCH TOPIC: DESIGNATING THE PHENOMENON

The process of forming clinical impressions relates to many cognate phenomena stud-
ied in both social and clinical contexts: person perception, person cognition, social percep-
tion, interpersonal experience, impression formation, snap judgments, attribution, attention,
implicit personality theory, naive psychology, clinical inference, clinical judgment, and
 178 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

clinical attitude. The difficulty in naming my phenomenon is that the research topic fits no
one of these designations exclusively but at the same time encompasses all of them.
The expression "psychodiagnostic presence" might be used in a general way to refer
to the phenomenon, but the problem with this designation is the nebulous way in which the
term "presence" has been used in phenomenological discourse. "Presence" is certainly in-
volved in a fundamental way in the process of forming clinical impression, but a more de-
terminate expression is needed-one that explicitly acknowledges the perceptual
dimensions of the psychologist's experience. Alfred Schutz's (1962) discussion of "cogni-
tive styles" provides a framework for approaching this general kind of phenomenon, but the
name is not quite right, as the work of psychodiagnosis calls upon thinking, feeling, imag-
ining, sensing, and intuiting all at once; "cognitive style" is thus too limited a way of refer-
ring to the phenomenon. Psychodiagnostic "attitude" might work, but then there is the
problem of the more common association of the term with social values and beliefs, rather
than to "attitude" understood phenomenologically as a constitutive stance of consciousness.
Foucault's (1973) use of the common French expression regard is tempting, but the prob-
lem then becomes how to translate this term into English. (His translator's choice of the
more uncommon English equivalent "gaze" invites a possible misconstruction of the phe-
nomenon as nothing more than a casual glance.)
I eventually decided that the expression seeing in its common, everyday usage was
well suited as a way of referring to the kind of phenomenon under investigation. "Seeing"
preserves the fullness of the phenomenon being sought, in its face-to-face, perceptual, con-
templative, embodied nature. It is a term commonly used to refer to understanding ("Do
you see what I mean?") and imagination ("seeing in the mind's eye") as well as perception.
The idea of perspectivity is implicit, and the term "seeing" is also used to express the
processes oflearning, discovering, admitting something to one's presence, experiencing, in-
quiring, and reflecting. My choice of the term here is also inspired by Castaneda's (1971)
usage, insofar as for him seeing refers to an embodied worldview, an alert style of presence
to one's situation, and, most essentially, a seeing-through the surface appearance of things.
All things considered, "seeing" is a comprehensive and meaningful way of referring to the
psychologist's conscious activity during a diagnostic interview.
Let us now turn to a clarification of what is meant by a seeing that is "psychodiagnos-
tic." For the purpose of this study, the term psychodiagnosis is used to refer in a generic
sense to the process through which a psychologist comes to know the personality of an in-
dividual. Etymologically, the term means "to have seen through to the psyche." The per-
ceptual basis for psychodiagnosis can be lost, however, when we think of diagnosis as a
species of "knowledge" (the latter being a term derived from the Greek gnosis). I have for
this reason chosen the expression "psychodiagnostic seeing" as a way of emphasizing the
perceptual nature of the phenomenon being investigated. The term "psychognosis" was
used in 1874 by Brentano (1973) to refer to a descriptive psychology employing the method
of "inner perception" as a means of describing one's own intentional acts. With the advent
of psychoanalysis as a method of observing other people's psychological lives, the term
"psychodiagnosis" became employed to refer to a process of seeing that could penetrate
"through" (dia) to the depths of another's psychological life. Thus rooted in the tradition of
depth psychology, psychodiagnosis came to be understood as a process through which the
psychologist comes to "know" the character structure of the individual. As such, "psy-
chodiagnosis may be regarded as a portmanteau word signifying the reconciliation of psy-
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 179

chodynamics and diagnosis" (Rosenzweig, 1949, p. 3). Allport's (1937) understanding of

"psychodiagnostics" as a science of "character reading" that sees through expression to the
"inner structural consistency" that comprises the whole of the personality is consistent with
the notion of psychodiagnostic seeing used in this research.
Allport (1937, pp. 500-501) writes: "The fact that one perceives a personality at first
contact, not by fragments pieced together with painful slowness, but with swift 'intuition,'
... is a matter of considerable theoretical importance." This observation is important pre-
cisely because it brings us back to the perceptual origins of clinical impressions. Allport
suggests that an empirical understanding of the psychologist's experience of the expressive
behavior of the client is necessary to lay the foundations of "psychodiagnostics," which he
refers to as "a modem scientific extension of the ancient arts of physiognomy" (p. 497) and
the "most complex branch of psychology" (p. 496). He tells us, in short, that psychodiag-
nostics consists of the discovery of the significance of expression for understanding the "in-
ner qualities of personality" (p. 484). Character reading is not, however, a simple matter of
correlating various expressive features with separate traits; rather, "the feature acts as a
'point of condensation' ... for judgments which are so elusive and complex that their basis
cannot be fully recognized" (p. 505). Allport's remarks regarding the psychodiagnostic
process of "reading" expressive behavior are of value to us in two ways. First, he informs us
of a special way in which clinical impressions are initially grounded in the perceptual ex-
perience of the clinician. Specifically, the embodied expression of the client already signi-
fies, or directs our clinical perception to, the "who" of the person being studied. Second, he
tells us that clinical impressions are further developed through a process of "judging" that
is so difficult to circumscribe that an understanding of what goes into the makeup of a clin-
ical impression (with respect to both what is perceived and how it is perceived) escapes
even the psychologist who forms the impression. These observations helped to shape the fo-
cus of the current research by directing our attention to the implicit constituting activities
that are lived rather than known by the psychologist.

Empathy
One such constitutive activity is the psychologist's "empathic perception" of the
client's embodied expression. The notion of empathy has, in fact, been used by many psy-
chologists in describing the clinician's presence to a client (Allport, 1937; Hamlyn, 1974;
Rogers, 1951; Sarbin, Taft, & Bailey, 1960; Schafer, 1983; Taft, 1955; Tagiuri & Petrullo,
1958; Wiens, 1976). Originally, this term was used to suggest "the imitative assumption
of the postures and facial expressions of other people" (Allport, 1937, p. 530). In the con-
text of assessment, it is usually said that the clinician "puts himself in his client's place"
(Combs & Snygg, 1959, p. 254), "uses his imagination" (Hamlyn, 1974), or "listens with
the third ear" (Reik, 1948) to understand the client's experience. Empathy can be de-
scribed as "the process by which one person is able to imaginatively place himself in an-
other's role and situation in order to understand the other's feelings, point of view,
attitudes, and tendencies to act in a given situation" (Gorden, 1969, pp. 18-19). Theodore
Lipps (1903), in his presentation on the concept of Einfiihlung (which was subsequently
translated into English as "empathy" by Wundt's student, Titchener), suggested that it is
the kinesthetic experience of assuming the postures and facial expressions of others that
is the very source of our knowledge of other people. According to Lipps, slight motor
180 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

movements are induced in the observer by another's presence, and the experiential qual-
ities that are evoked by these movements are perceived in the other person over there.
"The patient's expressive movements involuntarily bring about an imitation in our own
organism" (Reich, 1972, p. 362). We sense in and through our own bodies the intentions
and affects that animate the other, and we simultaneously understand our tacit experience
as significative of the other's expression.
What is important about the concept of empathy for the current research is that it
raises the question of whether the forming of clinical impressions is to be understood as a
perception followed by a judgment, or rather as the singular intuitive experience of a per-
ceiving, imaging, embodied subject. Proponents of the "naive" view prefer to describe per-
son perception as a direct intuition of meaningful qualities, whereas the more commonly
held psychological view holds that person perception is a function of inference. These two
views are in fact derivations of two opposing epistemological traditions.

Inference
"Inference" theorists follow the lead of the British empiricists and associationists, who
purport that impressions of other people are received passively and then organized accord-
ing to laws of association. Accordingly, it is the latter process of organization that makes
sense out of what was originally without sense. Locke's "association of ideas" becomes, in
modem psychological parlance, "inference." In the context of person perception, it refers to
"a cognitive process in which characteristics of a general class are attributed to an individ-
ual taken as an instance of that class" (Sarbin et aI., 1960, p. 5 [emphasis added]). To the
extent that the characteristic is attributed by means of association of the initial sense datum
with information held in the perceiver's memory, the perceived characteristic cannot be said
to exist independently of the perceiver's consciousness (a point with which intuitionists
would not quarrel). But the characteristic is then understood to be the end product of a chain
of cognitive events, the mechanism of which would account for the act of attribution (hence
the trend in assessment literature to supplant the clinician with the computer [beginning
with Holtzmann, 1966]). It is with this reduction of perceived characteristics to a causal net-
work of cognitive processes that the opposing epistemological trend takes issue.

Intuition
The "intuition" approach can be traced back to Leibniz, a 17th-century contemporary
of Locke, for whom perception could not be understood in terms of mechanical transac-
tions. Kant, Brentano, Dilthey, Hussed, James, and Koehler all follow in this tradition,
which today continues to rival the Anglo-American empiricist influence in cognitive theory.
The Continental school, so named because of its origins on the European continent, takes a
"hermeneutic-dialectic" (Radnitzky, 1970) approach to human phenomena, an approach
that enables one to see the individual as the active source of his or her acts (Allport, 1955).
With respect to perceptual acts, meaning is understood to be achieved through acts of direct
intuition (Le., consciousness unmediated by logical operations), rather than inference. That
is, meaning is not a matter of "information processing," but of embodied perception. In the
case of person perception, empathic intuition rather than cognitive association is understood
to be the basis for knowing others.
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 181

Even though Husserl (1970a) privileges that species of intuition directed toward one's
own "inner" experience as "the ideal of adequation" (Levinas, 1973, p. 136), he still allows
for an act of intuition directed toward the other's experience. Following Husserl (1982,
1989), Levinas (1973, p. 150) describes how intuition is a primordial means for discovering
others: "A phenomenological intuition of the life of others, a reflection by Einfiihlung opens
the field of transcendental intersubjectivity." Thus, in the phenomenological tradition, em-
pathy and intuition are related as species to genus, and one can properly refer to an "em-
pathic intuition" whereby one encounters the psychological life of another (see Husserl,
1989, pp. 170-178 & 239-247).
One of the major controversies in the person perception literature has been a debate
over whether or not (or, at least, to what extent) our perceptions of others are mediated by
cognitive processes, namely, inferences or attributions. In general, the existing research
into person perception can be described as efforts to determine what goes into the makeup
of our understanding of others. Some investigators have focused on the perceptual deter-
minants of our understanding, namely, what we react to (From, 1971); others focus on how
we react (Jones & Davis, 1965; Mischel, 1974; Tagiuri & PetrullO, 1958). The study re-
ported in this chapter is interested in "what" is perceived only insofar as this is revelatory
of "how" the perceiver perceives. Unlike traditional empirical studies, which seek to es-
tablish cognitive mechanisms to explain the "how" of person perception, this study seeks
to understand the "how" by illuminating the constitutive perceptual framework (Einstel-
lung) of the perceiver.

THE RESEARCH SITUATION: LOCATING THE PHENOMENON

The question of access to a research phenomenon is a question of finding concrete ev-

idence by means of which to make one's discoveries. Heidegger (1962) distinguishes three
components of any inquiry: that which is asked about (the Gefragtes), that which is inter-
rogated (the Befragtes), and that which is to be found out by the asking (the Erfragte). In
psychological research, these three aspects would correspond to the research question (Le.,
the phenomenon under investigation), the data (i.e., the experience or situation that serves
as a location for the phenomenon), and the results. The question of access to the research
phenomenon (the Gefragtes) is a question of finding concrete evidence (the Befragtes) by
means of which to make one's discoveries (the Erfragte). Empirically based phenomeno-
logical research can thus be described as an investigation of a situation selected for study
about the phenomenon of interest. My research phenomenon (which I eventually referred
to as "psychodiagnostic seeing," but which at the outset of my study remained nameless,
or only vaguely alluded to with expressions such as "clinical intuition") had to be made ac-
cessible in such a way that the individual conscious experience of the psychologist could
become thematic. This amounted first of all to locating the phenomenon in a situation that
could be approached empirically and that could manifest the phenomenon as prominently
as possible. Having considered therapeutic and even everyday situations as possible con-
texts for a study of psychologists' acts of impression formation, I decided upon the assess-
ment interview as the situation that provided the best means of access for this study.
Access to the phenomenon, however, required more than a situation to investigate. It
required an approach, a way of focusing on the situation in order to allow the phenomenon
182 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

to come into view. It is precisely upon this approach that I shall focus in the next part of
this chapter. First, I will summarize here the procedure that I used for obtaining empirical
evidence of the phenomenon of psychodiagnostic seeing [the full statement of this proce-
dure is presented in Churchill (1984b, pp. 70-94)]. Two male clinical psychologists vol-
unteered to participate in the study; both worked in institutional settings in which
assessment was a regular part of the psycholgist's work. Moreover, both were involved in
training psychology interns in assessment interviewing. My data generating activities con-
sisted of the following:
1. Preliminary interview. The purpose of this step was to collect background data to
be used by the researcher in subsequent analyses of the protocol data. The general issues
that were raised included: (I) how does the subject see the function of psychodiagnosis; (2)
what is the role of theory in his assessment of others; and (3) what motivates him to do this
kind of work. (Note: The masculine gender is used exclusively here because of the gender
of the research subjects.) Such background information was considered to be essential in-
sofar as "the 'sedimented' structure of the individual's experience is the condition for the
subsequent interpretation of all new events and activities" (Schutz, 1962, p. xxviii). The
data collected at this stage of the research were transcribed and put aside for subsequent
collating with the other data.
2. Preassessment protocol. Immediately prior to the assessment, the subject was
asked: "How are you going into the assessment? What are your referral questions and what
impressions about the client do you already have as you go into the interview?" The pur-
pose of this research step was to discover prior to the assessment interview, and prior to
the subject's reflection on the interview, what specific questions and impressions were, in
fact, "perceptual horizons" of the subject's subsequent perception of the client.
3. Interview phase ofa psychodiagnostic assessment. This was the concrete research
situation itself, lived by the psychologist acting as a research subject, and videotaped for re-
view during subsequent research interviews. In the assessment, the research subject (the
psychologist) encountered his patient and together they went through what, for the psy-
chologist, was a "standard" psychodiagnostic interview-one that was representative of his
psychodiagnostic work.
4. Postassessment protocol. Immediately following the assessment, the psychologist
was handed these written instructions:

Would you please describe, as fully as you can, what you just experienced during the interview
phase of your interaction with the client. I am interested in the course of events as they took place
for you as you moved through the interview, including those momentary experiences and associa-
tions that might otherwise not seem directly relevant to assessment as such. I would like for your
account to have provided an overview of the entire interview, including your entrance into testing,
and detailed accounts of some of the different kinds of experience and activity that you went
through. Thank you for your help.

Together with the preassessment protocols, the subjects' responses here constituted the em-
pirical data for this research and thus the basis for further elaboration and clarification of
the psychologists' experience.
5. Reading and posing questions to the protocols. The protocol data were read and
reread in order to gain a preliminary sense of the content and organization of the subject's
description. Through gaining a familiarization with the whole, I was able to grasp the con-
textual significance of individual statements and to facilitate the eventual clarification of
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 183

this significance by posing questions to the subject in the follow-up interview. The ques-
tions arose out of my encountering the protocol statements in terms of how the psychologist
was living the psychodiagnostic interview during the moments being described.
6. Follow-up interviews. These were the most important research interviews insofar
as they were directed toward the elaboration and clarification of the experience to which the
protocol data referred. The transcripts of these interviews were used as primary data for re-
flection by the researcher. The interviewing process consisted of a collaborative dialogue
between the researcher and subject, in which the subject was asked to read aloud from the
protocols while I interjected questions to facilitate clarification of issues relevant to the re-
search. During these interviews, the videotape of the assessment was ready at hand to fa-
cilitate the subject's recollection of his experience. (It was especially helpful in enabling me
to direct the psychologist's attention to his own activities and appearance on tape.)
7. Collating the data. The purpose of this research step was to assemble a collated
text out of all the data collected from the subject. This consisted of juxtaposing statements
that spoke to a common theme from different places in the various interviews to form para-
graphs of data, and arranging the paragraphs into a somewhat chronological sequence.
The research thus consisted of videotaping and collecting descriptions of the expe-
rience of diagnostic interviewing from two male clinical psychologists, and then pro-
ceeding with a modified version of Giorgi's (1975) method of protocol analysis in order
to make explicit the "structure" and "style" of psychodiagnostic seeing. Using the data
base of protocols and transcribed interviews obtained from the psychologists both before
and after an actual diagnostic assessment, I proceeded to analyze their experience phe-
nomenologically to reveal the structure of psychodiagnostic seeing in terms of its moti-
vational and preconceptual horizons as well as the modes of attention and explication
exhibited by the psychologists.

THE RESEARCH APPROACH: liTO THE AFFAIRS THEMSELVES"

In the traditional "empirical" approach to perception, both the perceiver and the per-
ceived are viewed from an external point of view as things with objectifiable properties. In
studying perception, one looks to the properties of the respective objects involved and at-
tempts to trace a correspondence between the properties of the perceived and the properties
of consciousness that are activated by the perceived. Consciousness itself is taken here to be
just another aspect of the objectified body, something ultimately reducible to material
events happening in the brain. Thus, to study my perception of a tree, for example, I might
look to the properties of its leaves that make them appear green, then to the properties of my
sensory apparatus that allow me to see green, and attempt to "fine-tune" my understanding
of this relationship according to the laws of physics and physiology. If consciousness itself
has any place in all of this, it is merely as the implicit starting point of the inquiry (i.e., to
study the perception of green leaves requires that I first be conscious of the tree as green
and on that basis set out to investigate my perception).
In contrast to this positivist approach, which seeks material facts and marginalizes
consciousness as an epiphenomenal starting point for "hard" scientific research, there is
an alternative paradigm for the study of consciousness that comes out of the phenomeno-
logical tradition. As Brentano (1973) suggested, the realm of the psychological is different
 184 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

from the realm of the physiological on the basis of there being given to us through "inner
perception" [what Dilthey (1977b) and Heidegger (1962), in essence, called J-erstehen] a
whole world that is of a different nature from what is revealed through "external percep-
tion." Memory and imagination-along with thought, intuition, and feeling-are among the
processes of inner perception that are interwoven in the fabric of our experience, within
which all the powers of psyche function together as a whole (Dilthey, 1977a). What this
meant to Husserl (who was Brentano's student) was that a newly understood correspon-
dence between the perceiver and the perceived could be established through a rigorously
scientific philosophy he eventually called constitutive phenomenology. Husserl's project, in
essence, was this: The correspondence he sought was between (1) the features, not of the
thing in itself, but of the thing as perceived by the experiencing subject, and (2) the essen-
tial characteristics of consciousness that allow things to be perceived as having such quali-
ties as are perceived. That is, if we take the perception of a "tree," Husserl's interest was not
what identifiable qualities of a given object correspond to the designation "tree," but rather
what essential characteristics of consciousness make possible the perception of this object
as a "tree." Thus, for instance, consciousness would have to be able to recognize a relation
between'''form'' and "content" (to use familiar Platonic categories) in order to look at this
particular object and say "I see a tree." If! see a tree, it is because I am capable of seeing the
novel in terms of the familiar; it is because I carry with me to every perceptual encounter a
host of typifications that illuminate the objects of the world for me insofar as they are seen
through the lens of my language system.
A constitutive phenomenology, however, goes far beyond the study of language itself
as a horizon of experience. At a more personal level, it enters the deeper psychological
world of feelings and desire, as well (Husserl, 1970b, p. 317):
Here the research interest is directed toward human beings as persons ... what is in question
is not the world as it actually is but the particular world which is valid for the person ... the ques-
tion is how they, as persons, comport themselves in action and passion-how they are motivated
to their specifically personal acts of perception, of remembering, ofthinking, of valuing....

To give a simple example, borrowed from Sartre's (1948) analysis of the "sour
grapes" experience: I perceive these grapes hanging over my head as delicious, and their
deliciousness is given to me in my sudden experience of desire for them. One might say
that my desire for the grapes and their desirability are intentional correlatives. The grapes
hanging out of reach are constituted in their deliciousness not on the basis of any scientific
evidence concerning their chemical makeup, but rather as a function of my desire for
them. The truth of this can be demonstrated very simply: A moment later, when I discover
that I cannot reach them, I turn away in disgust: "The grapes are sour anyway." Is it on the
basis of the chemical makeup of the grapes that I ascertain their deliciousness, or even
their sourness? No. These perceptions are a function of something else, namely, the illu-
minating presence of a consciousness that intends, first, a desirous relationship to the
grapes and, at the next moment, a disgusted relationship. The motivation for this change in
attitude is still another story, one that would bring us more fully into an existential psy-
choanalysis of the scene. For our purposes here, however, we have at least established a
context for understanding Husserl's undertaking: A relationship can be established be-
tween the object of perception (not as it is but as it is perceived) and the act of perception
that sees (and thus seizes upon or grasps the meaning of) the object. Husserl called the act
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 185

of consciousness the noesis and the intentional object (Le., the object as meant, in the pro-
file in which it is illuminated) the noema.
With his own "noetic-noematic" investigations into the constitution of experience,
Husserl (1973, 1989) provides a general framework that can guide empirical research fo-
cusing on particular noematic interests, such as my own interest in a psychologist's percep-
tual experience of a person. From a phenomenological point of view, an inquiry into the
experiential origins of psychodiagnostic impressions will lead us to an understanding of the
attitude or perceptual style of the psychodiagnostician.
According to Hussed (1970b), we can adopt a variety of attitudes or orientations toward
the world within the "natural standpoint" of everyday life. A change in "attitude" is a change
in one's mode of involvement with the wodd, although we never really abandon our natural
experiential perspective toward objects of perception, even when we assume scientific or
professional roles or attitudes (Hussed, 1982, p. 55). One such specialized attitude, "to take
our own case, is the psychological point of view in which the glance is directed upon [every-
day] experience" (Hussed, 1962, p. 150). Within this general psychological orientation,
Husserl (1970b, p. 318) designated an even more specialized standpoint, a "personalistic at-
titude" that is characterized by an "interest in personal habitualities and characteristics," that
is, an interest in what is unique and particular to the individual person. This "personalistic
viewpoint" is essentially the attitude of the psychodiagnostician, namely, a theoretical and
practical interest aimed toward making thematic statements about an individual's experience
and behavior that goes beyond a general interest in human behavior and motives. But this in-
terest turns out to be just one part within the whole perceptual "style" of the psychodiagnos-
tic ian. In seeking to understand what constitutes a psychological way of seeing, one must
necessarily look to the perceptual "horizons" or contexts of psychological explications. For
Hussed, these contexts ultimately point back to the same prescientific realm of perceptual
receptivity for all theoretical or practical standpoints.

INTENTIONALITY OF PERCEPTUAL EXPERIENCE

Having indicated that an intentional analysis of perceptual experience yields an expli-

cation of "noematic" and "noetic" horizons of experience, I would like to clarify and elab-
orate the meaning of these terms. Noematic horizons constitute the thematic field of
perception, namely, the ever-widening contexts of meaning within which the theme
(noema) presents itself in a given act of experience. Such horizons belonging to the per-
ceptual object include the spatial, social, biographical, and/or historical contexts within
which the object is actually or virtually perceived. By a shift of attitude, one thematic field
may supersede another, and yet the theme remains the same, as when, for example, we first
consider a person with respect to his or her personal development and then with regard to a
situation in which one finds oneself involved (Gurwitsch, 1964, p. 322). Thus, noematic
horizons, as they might appear to a psychodiagnostician, would pertain to the situations
within which a person being evaluated is observed: the family life described to us, the
group therapy in which the person interacts with others, the game room where one reveals
one's locomotor skills and practical intelligence, or the clinical interview in which one re-
veals one's transferences and defenses.
186 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

Noetic horizons, in contrast, refer to those constitutive dimensions of perceptual pres-

ence that are "anticipatory" by nature and that include the motivational and conceptual con-
texts of the perceiver, or what Heidegger (1962, p. 192) refers to more generally as the
"fore-structure of understanding." Here, the connection between separate moments of per-
ception is given a basis in the intentionality of the perceiver's frame of reference: Anticipa-
tions make possible subsequent acts of recognition by pointing the rays of the attentive
regard in particular directions, thus connecting a present perception with the future unfold-
ing of profiles. Gurwitsch (1964) writes:
With the actual perception are interwoven expectancies of future perceptions of such a nature
that what appears through them will adhere to certain typical delineations .... The future perceptions
are anticipated to fill in the structural pattern of the inner horizons of the present perception, which
is specified only as to its typical style and general outline..... (p. 281) These anticipations are of
potential perceptions which, when actualized, will render visible that unseen at the moment (p. 293).

To speak of noetic horizons of perceptual experience is to understand that there is pre-

supposed in any given act of perception "afield ofpregivenness, from which a particular
stands out and, so to speak, 'excites us' to perception and perceptual contemplation"
(Husserl, 1973, pp. 71-72). This field necessarily belongs to the particular perceiver, inso-
far as what is noetic ally pregiven always refers back to the consciousness in which percep-
tual adumbrations take place: "It is a field of prominences for me, toward which my
perception is oriented" (p. 72). What is "pregiven" as the noetic field of perception is the
"foreconception" of the perceiver, which in turn directs one's attention ("foresight") toward
particular features ofa perceptual object (Heidegger, 1962, p. 191).
Husserl's (1973) noetic analysis of the structures of receptive experience (which serves
as the ground for all acts of judgment, including those of the psychologist) clarifies the con-
stitutive role of attention in the forming of an impression: "In general, attention is a tend-
ing of the ego toward an intentional object, toward a unity which 'appears' continuously in
the change of the modes of its givenness and which belongs to the essential structure of a
specific act of the ego ...." (p. 80). To the extent that attention is part of the essential struc-
ture of perceptual acts, any understanding of styles of perceiving would have to disclose the
attentive modes or "cognitive styles" (Schutz, 1962, p. 230) of which various species of per-
ception are the intentional correlates. Collectively, the noetic horizons operative in psy-
chodiagnostic seeing belong to the clinician; they consist of the interests, theoretical
knowledge, and attentive style that are peculiar to the individual clinician.

PERFORMING AN INTENTIONAL ANALYSIS

The phenomenological method par excellence is the method of "intentional analysis." (Gurwitsch,
1964, p. 292)

In performing an intentional (or noetic-noematic) analysis, one proceeds by "begin-

ning with a 'sense' already elaborated in an object that has a unity and permanence before
the mind and then separating out the multiple intendings that intersect in this 'sense'" (Ri-
coeur, 1967, p. 36). This is, in fact, the approach that I took in my own research on clinical
intuition. I was interested in articulating the "intentionality," that is, the structural relation-
ship between perceiver and perceived, revealed in the moments of my subjects' experience
that were described in their protocols and interviews.
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 187

Data
To demonstrate such a focus, I will offer a reflection on the first impression that one
of my research subjects (a clinical psychologist) had of his client. The following statement
is taken from the original protocol and follow-up interviews with this clinical psycholo-
gist, who volunteered to participate in this study by describing his initial impressions of a
client referred to him for evaluation (Churchill, 1984b, p. 344):
... On the phone his voice seemed rather businesslike, on the cold, mistrustful side. [R: Can
you recall what gave you that impression? Was it something that he said or was it more in how he
said it?] It wasn't anything to do with what he said. It was very cut and dry in terms of content. I
said, "Can you come in during the day?" and he said, "No, it's hard because I work." It was totally
in the way that he came across on the phone. Well, you know, there's all kinds of ways people can
come across. Some people come across nervous and confused, other people come across needy and
dependent. And he just sounded very distant-almost as though I was talking to an insurance sales-
man or someone. Very businesslike. [R: Was it that you had trouble feeling a closeness or an em-
pathy for him, or that you were picking up in his voice his being distant from you?] It has nothing
to do with empathy, because I wasn't trying to empathize with him. It was a professionalism. And
later on I found out when I met with him that he's a professional counselor himself. So I think what
was coming across on the phone was a professional voice, which, one of the reasons it stood out,
was that I'm not used to it here.

Idiographic Analysis
On the basis of these self-report data, I performed a reflection guided by the principles
stated earlier. My goal here was to articulate the "intentionality" revealed in the moments
of the psychologist's experience that were described within each paragraph of data. The
question that I formally posed to the data was: What does this moment ofthe psychologist s
experience reveal about his meaning-constituting presence as a clinician? This question
placed my focus squarely on the perceiving as distinguishable from (and ultimately irre-
ducible to, even while being inextricably bound to) the perceived. It was precisely the la-
tency of the act of perceiving within the perceptual moment that I was seeking to uncover.
As Gurwitsch (1964, p. 232) indicated, a constitutive analysis proceeds first with a fo-
cus upon the noetic horizons of a single noema:
Here we are studying a certain phase of the process rather than the process itself as a whole in
its progressive development. ... We confine ourselves to the study of a single perception occurring
at a certain phase of the perceptual process. Our task is to give as complete a description and analy-
sis as possible of the single perception and its noematic correlate, namely, the appearing object ex-
actly as it presents itself through the single perception. We ignore here any changes occurring when
the perception under discussion is integrated into the unity of one sustained perceptual process.

Gurwitsch clearly states here the focus of a noetic analysis, but we still need to indicate the
manner of such an analysis. For Merleau-Ponty (1962, p. 258), "To experience a structure
is not to receive it into oneself passively: it is to live it, to take it up, assume it and discover
its immanent significance." Similarly, Dilthey (1977b) spoke of an act of "reexperiencing"
(Nacherleben) that would involve "the transferring of one's own self into a given set (Inbe-
grifJ) of expressions of life" (p. 132). In this transposition of oneself into the psychic life
of another, there is a "fully sympathetic reliving ... along the line of the events themselves"
(p. 133). What is essential is that the researcher be capable of "co-performing" the subject's
intentional acts: "In empathy I participate in the other's positing" (Husserl, 1989, p. 177).
To "posit" is to take a stand in relation to something, to "position" oneself in such a way as
188 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

to illuminate certain meanings within one's situation. Thus, in empathy, one participates in
the other's unique positioning of himself or herself within a situation. While maintaining
one's own position as researcher, one gradually allows oneself to feel one's way into the
other's experience.
Beginning with my taking up or "reexperiencing" of the psychologist's explication of
a particular profile or aspect of his client, I thus proceeded to reflect back to the intentional
horizons that would be the necessary contexts for such an act of thematization. My analy-
sis thus proceeds from "what" was seen to "how" it was seen, that is, to what constituted the
"seeing" as such. The work of the intentional analysis became an effort on my part to focus
on the very acts ofseeing through which the psychologist was able to understand his client,
but which necessarily remained invisible to the psychologist as long as he remained focused
(even during our research interview!) on the client. Indeed, it was the "how" of the subjects'
experiences that they were not able to articulate for me during the research interviews.
Whenever I asked a subject "How did the client appear to you as such and such?", the sub-
ject would typically reply in terms of what he experienced. For example, when I asked the
psychologist how he came to perceive the client as "businesslike, on the cold, mistrustful
side," he replied: " ... he just sounded very distant-almost as though I was talking to an in-
surance salesman...." (Churchill, 1984b, p. 318). What the subjects were present to were
the vicissitudes of what they saw in their clients. How they were seeing the client, that is,
how they were seeing the client, remained veiled from sight. It was precisely my job to the-
matize what the psychologist himself could not see: his own act of seeing.
Here, then, is a sample of my analysis:
For Dr. S., the initial imaging of his client occurred during a phone conversation. What first
stood out was the style of the expression: . . . he just sounded very distant-almost as though I
was talking to an insurance salesman.... Very businesslike .... one of the reasons it stood out was
that I'm not used to it here." This reveals a spontaneous perceptual tendency toward the unusual
and, at the same time, a tendency toward explicating the unusual in terms ofthe familiar. In de-
scribing his client's voice as "businesslike," Dr. S was hearing his client as speaking in the more
general manner that belongs to businessmen and professionals; that is, Dr. S recognized a general
style of expression which the client's particular manner was like (thus revealing an anticipatory
horizon at work in Dr. S's experience). More concretely, the client's manner of speaking was "like"
Dr. S's prior phone conversations with insurance salesmen. To experience the new voice as "busi-
nesslike" implies that Dr. S's past experiences were part ofthe context of his listening and that he
was seeing a similarity between the voice he was listening to and a kind or type of voice he had
encountered in the past. In describing the voice in terms of this type, Dr. S was using the familiar
to understand the unfamiliar. That is, in order to have articulated his perception of the client's voice
as businesslike, Dr. S must first have "constituted" the meaning of the voice in terms of what was
already familiar to him through past experience. To perceive the client as a "kind" of person re-
quires familiarity with kinds of people: prior knowledge or acquaintance with kinds of people
against which to compare a present perception. For Dr. S, this horizon of his own past experiences
becomes the basis for subsequent acts of typification. This implies that the horizon of past experi-
ences, while essentially latent in any perceptual act, becomes functional only if motivated by a gen-
uine interest in the present object of perception. The activation of such anticipatory horizons in Dr.
S's experience of his present client is constituted, then, by his psychodiagnostic interest in the
client. The horizon of past experiences includes not only Dr. S's histories with other clients, but
his general acquaintance with kinds of individuals.
Also, in light of Dr. S's self-described gentle, receptive style of moving-toward others, it ap-
pears that hearing a businesslike voice became a salient feature of his perception to the extent that
it stood out against his own preferred style of sociality. Dr. S's perception of his client's voice was
further adumbrated by his attunement to the affective quality ofthe voice as "cold, mistrustful,"
which in turn led to the thematization of the client as interpersonally "distant." [An imaginative
variation of this would be a "warm" feeling regarding the client being further adumbrated in the
psychologist's experience as a sense of interpersonal closeness."] He consequently experienced the
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 189

client, on the basis of the cold affective tonality of his voice, as being "mistrustful." So, under his
psychodiagnostic gaze, there was a spontaneous explicative movement from the typical and phys-
iognomic features to the characterization of the client in terms of affective and interpersonal dy-
namics-in this instance, a dynamic which became uniquely thematic for this psychologist in the
context of his own social style. In addition, he heard the client's slow speech over the phone as the
speech of someone who was somewhat depressed. Dr. S used this term descriptively (rather than
diagnostically) to refer to the "slowed-down" quality of the client's disposition as perceived in the
physiognomy of his speech, that is, in its slowness. A variation ofthis would be physiognomically
rapid speech being experienced by the psychologist as revealing excitement. The movement from
physiognomy to disposition is itself an empathic elaboration on the part of the perceiver. Although
grounded in the psychologist's prepredicative receptive experience, the image of the client as de-
pressed was already a movement toward explication, i.e., toward a predicative act of interpretation.

Eidetic Reduction
What I have described up to this point is an application of Husserl's method of
noetic-noematic analysis at the idiographic level. The movement from individual to general
levels of meaning is undertaken in service of the phenomenological interest in universal
structures of experience, and is accomplished by means of the two essential (and mutually
implicative) "steps" of phenomenological analysis as defined by Husserl (1973, pp. 340ft):
(1) an "eidetic reduction" whereby what is idiosyncratic to a particular experience is elim-
inated and (2) a subsequent procedure whereby invariant qualities are confirmed by pro-
ducing "free imaginative variations" of the experience under investigation. The essence of
these research steps consisted of regarding the particular moments of experience (from
which my structural thematizations had been derived) as empirical variations of a general
phenomenon that could take on other possible variations.
The research question posed at this point was: What kinds of conscious phenomena
have been represented in the data? Under the eidetic reduction, the experiences that
formed the basis for the original idiographic analyses were no longer of concern with re-
spect to their status as actual facts (i.e., as representative of specific experiences), but were
transformed in my own imagination into possibilities of psychodiagnostic experience
lending themselves to "free variations." Their empirical status as arbitrary examples of an
eidos were taken as a point of departure for envisioning a multiplicity of variations
through which a unity of sense became evident. Concretely, I would read a passage from
my analysis of one subject's experience, then pause and consider what other ways a psy-
chologist might experience the "same kind" of moment during an assessment. A sense of
what was the same about the imagined variations and the original empirical example was
then articulated as a general theme, that is, a theme common to any and all variations.
What I sought was the invariant form without which the empirical examples and free vari-
ations would not be possible, that is, without which they could not be grasped as examples
of a kind of experience. The eidos or general structural theme was that sense that was con-
gruent to all the variations.
On the basis of the intentional analysis of the psychologist's first impressions pre-
sented above (supplemented by empirical and imagined variations), I was able to begin my
thematization of psychodiagnostic seeing as a perceptual style. The following is a brief ex-
cerpt from the complete analysis (which can be found in Churchill, 1984b):
Initially and at times throughout the interview, the psychologist allows an impression of the
client to form, not as a result of deliberate contemplation, but rather as a spontaneous adumbration
of images. The initial imaging of the client under the receptive regard moves rather spontaneously
190 scon D. CHURCHILL

toward making explications about the psychological meaning of what has been perceived, even if
these explications are not yet formally integrated into a diagnostic statement.
The psychologist's "first impressions" are essentially based upon a prepredicative experience
of the client that is primarily empathic in nature-that is, a receptive, affective attunement with the
individual in which the psychologist's acts of seeing are lived as a tendency toward the vivid pres-
ence ofthe client's experience in the psychologist's own experience. This tendency to "feel" a sense
of the client is preparatory for the psychologist's making explications about the client. The psy-
chologist's empathic "feeling into" the experience of the client is lived pre-thematically: only after
the encounter does the psychologist look back and recognize a moment of his experience as one
where he was "feeling a sense of" the client's experience, or imitating the client's behavior. Such
moments of co-experiencing give way to a passive genesis of images which subsequently become
languaged as explications about the client. In this way, the physiognomic features that were origi-
na

y striking to the psychologist are subsequently taken up in an act of predication whereby the
"sense" or meaning of those features becomes thematic. This sense is what is meant by a "first im-
pression," but also any impression to the extent that it is grounded in the perceiver's perceptual
experience. It is always a predicative (i.e., explicative) act of the psychologist, motivated
by psychodiagnostic interests, that constitutes prepredicative (empathic, sensory) experience as
"information."
Knowledge that the psychologist has about people in general, either from informal acquain-
tance or formal training, is a horizon of psychodiagnostic seeing: past experiences constitute the
thematic field of the psychologist's perception of the client. There is a spontaneous, nondeliberate,
associative relating of the person presently being seen by the psychologist to persons seen in the
past. Understanding the present client involves the awakening of already familiar understandings
about similar kinds of people, without which the client would remain unfamiliar. The awakening of
sedimented understandings makes possible recognition and anticipation, each of which is a part of
the structure of psychodiagnostic seeing. Concretely, the psychologist finds himself informed by
the different histories he has had with different kinds of people, in a way that is motivated distinc-
tively by the task of psychodiagnosis.

ORGANIZING THE RESULTS

In formulating a general structural description out of the individual analyses, it was

necessary to find points of convergence around which the findings at the individual level
could be brought together. A major challenge was deciding how to structure the results:
how to present the phenomenon of psychodiagnostic seeing in an organized way. I was
eventually struck by the way that my research phenomenon was different from others that
had been the subject of empirical-phenomenological investigations. Instead offocusing on
a kind of experience such as jealousy, disappointment, anxiety, decision-making, anger,
frustration, being pleased with oneself, and so on, I was focusing on a constitutive attitude,
a perceptual stance or way ofseeing. It is important, then, that we discuss the various ways
that one might go about the task of constructing a results section that would be adequate to
one's particular research phenomenon.

Noematic Explication: Constituent and Narrative Models

Analysis of typical human experiences gives heavy emphasis to the process and "noe-
matics" of the subject's experience, to the unfolding of "what" happened psychologically.
At least two different but related models for composing empirical-phenomenological ex-
plications have been developed at Duquesne University. The first, which we might call
"constituent analysis," began with van Kaam's (1959) phenomenal study of the experience
of "really feeling understood." His method was "empirical" insofar as he collected self-
report data. His results were "descriptive," though not quite "eidetic," since he did not em-
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 191

ploy Husserl's essential procedure of free imaginative variation; rather, he limited his analy-
ses to the empirical variations presented in the data. Van Kaam's procedure was developed
by Giorgi (1971, 1975, 1985) and Colaizzi (1973, 1978) into a truly empirical-phenome-
no{ogical method reaching beyond the phenomenal to the structural ("intentional") features
underlying psychological processes such as learning and cognition. In the Giorgi-Colaizzi
approach, constituents are related to each other as moments within a structural whole.
Another approach (with at least two different "styles") developed out ofthe first; here,
more emphasis is placed on the emergence of a psychological story. W F. Fischer's research
on being-anxious (1974), being-emotional (1978), and self-deception (1985) traces a par-
ticular sequence of psychological events, and the descriptive results are formulated as
"scenes" or "moments" that interconnect both meaningfully and temporally. Von Eckarts-
berg's hermeneutical (1986) and ecological (1993) approaches to stream-of-consciousness
research likewise culminate in a storying of the essential features of the uniquely personal
experience under investigation. What Fischer and von Eckartsberg have in common is the
mapping of human experience onto an existential matrix: With Fischer, there is an implicit
presence of Heidegger's (1962) "care-structure" in his languaging of his subject's experi-
ence; in von Eckartsberg, one finds Schutz's (1967) social phenomenology as well as Gur-
witsch's (1964) field of consciousness (among other frameworks drawn from Heidegger,
Scheler, Binswanger, and Rosenstock-Huessy) as backdrops against which "experiaction"
falls into relief (von Eckartsberg, 1971, 1986). In fact, both paradigms-constituent (or
theme) analysis and story (or narrative) analysis-are compatible with each other and can
be brought together in an effective and mutually implicating way, as illustrated in Chapter
3 in this volume.

Noetic-Noematic Explication: A Configural-Structural Model

When, as in this investigation, the analysis is focused upon a way ofseeing (and not on
the actual "formation" of an impression), it is not appropriate (or really possible) to arrange
the structural description chronologically as a process. Imagined variations on the chronol-
ogy of psychodiagnostic interviews, for instance, reveal that the actual sequence of events
within a particular instance of forming a clinical impression would not be an invariant fea-
ture of the phenomenon in general. We still find a multidimensional intentionality that
needs to be unraveled analytically so that the various constituents can be grasped and artic-
ulated. With a perceptual style, however, it is not a matter of establishing a temporal logic,
but rather of articulating the interweaving of the perceptual themes and horizons that appear
through the intentional analysis. The "structure" or interweaving appears as a configuration,
as in the relationship offigure to ground (except that this relationship exists in the perceiv-
ing rather than in the perceived). Thus, for instance, past experiences become the horizon or
"ground" of the psychologist's perceiving acts.
I therefore developed a configural (as opposed to a chronological) structure ofpsy-
chodiagnostic seeing to articulate the various frames or layers of the psychologist's experi-
ence. My general structural description was organized around three general structural
aspects of psychodiagnostic seeing that were discerned by reading through the individual
meaning units (within the collated text of data) and asking: What kind of constituent (or
"horizon") of psychodiagnostic seeing is being described here? The various "kinds" of con-
stituents were then regrouped into more embracing categories until the most general level
192 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

was obtained. The general level was reached when I had grouped all of the constituents of
psychodiagnostic seeing into three broad dimensions that were irreducible to each other,
while being structurally intertwined.
The general structures of seeing that emerged in the final analysis were the psycholo-
gist's (1) constitutive projects and interests, (2) modes of attention, and (3) modes of expli-
cation. These three aspects of psychodiagnostic seeing would be general structural aspects
of any kinds of seeing that yield meaningful impressions. In other words, they are dimen-
sions that would have to be interrogated and explicated in order to arrive at a structural un-
derstanding of any perceptual experience (or "intuition" in the strict sense) that results in a
thematization of the perceptual object. Although the three aspects are themselves universals
of seeing, it is the particular way in which these are found to be concretized in psychodiag-
nostic assessment that makes the results of my research distinctive of psychodiagnosis.
Initially, I attempted to "step back" as far as possible in viewing the psychologist as a
person engaged in a psychodiagnostic encounter. I strove to identify the "ultimate" psycho-
logical horizons of psychodiagnostic seeing. The question I posed to the findings was:
What have I discovered in the data that speaks to the most general (trans-situational) hori-
zons of the psychologist's experience during the assessment interview? In what way is psy-
chodiagnostic seeing an expression of more general projects in the lives of the subjects?
This, then, became the first constitutive horizon of psychodiagnostic seeing presented in the
results, namely, the motivational context. To arrive at the "next" horizon, I simply reduced
the range of my questioning from the realm of general life projects to specifically psycho-
logical projects. An example would be the psychologist's interest in the realm of "the psy-
chological" as constitutive of psychodiagnostic relevancy across any or all assessment
interview situations. A further reduction of scope thematized the specific interests of the
psychologist going into this particular assessment interview: What preconceptions and
questions did he bring with him to the encounter? Existentially, these horizons move from
general life projects that are a more ongoing part of the psychologists' lives to the projects
that are more immediate and transient (i.e., situation-specific) in nature.
Having delineated the constitutive projects and interests of the psychodiagnostician, I
next focused upon what those interests were constitutive of, namely, the attentive regard of
the psychologist during the psychodiagnostic interview. In the corresponding section of the
general structural description, I first presented the psychologist's modes of attention to the
client's self-presentation; then I described the psychologist's attention to the task of estab-
lishing rapport with the client; finally, I focused on the psychologist's self-reflective aware-
ness during the interview (see the sample of results presented below).
The third area of results corresponds to the psychologist's thematic understanding of
the client. My explication here was made possible by a shift in focus from the afore-
mentioned motivational horizons and style of presence belonging to the psychologist to the
psychologist's descriptive, diagnostic, and interpretive thematizations: What kinds of ex-
plications were revealed in the data?
In fact, all the layers of this general structural framework are "woven together" in ex-
perience at the same time; a chronological structure was therefore simply not appropriate.
The metaphor of layers is used here to indicate that the different constitutive horizons of an
act of seeing are differentiated not by their place in a sequence of dynamic events, but by
their relatively prethematic status in the perceiver'S experience. Each horizon of seeing is a
horizon precisely because it is not itself "seen." And yet some horizons are closer to be-
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 193

coming thematic than others; for example, the referral questions that are constitutive of
what the psychologist is looking for are prethematic, to be sure, but eventually become the-
matized in the psychologist's description of the patient. On the other hand, personal motives
for being a psychologist are not as likely to become thematic for the psychologist in the
course of perceiving and describing the patient. Such motives are still constitutive horizons
and can be described metaphorically as a different layer of experience than the referral
questions. In this sense, one can say that individual moments of perceptual experience are
"layered" by the various horizons that constitute the psychologist's involvement in and co-
creation of the perceptual encounter.
In summary, the solution opted for in organizing the results was to divide the general
structural description into three sections, each emphasizing one of the general aspects of
psychodiagnostic seeing, while allowing each to demonstrate the interrelatedness of the
structure as a whole. Since each section was written from the point of view of the whole, the
reader will find a latent presence of the whole structure in the description of each of the par-
ticular constituents.

RESULTS

In order to communicate the vivid sense of the phenomenon that was revealed at the
individual level, the results were formulated as an "illustrated general structural descrip-
tion." The illustrations that follow the general structural statements in the results presented
below are drawn from the data that served as the basis for eidetic reduction and free varia-
tion. Thus, the presentation of results follows an approach "in which a structure, a system
of order, is derived from the instances, and which serves to unify them as parts of a whole"
(Dilthey, I 977b, p. 138).3

A General Structural Description of Psychodiagnostic Seeing

In the psychologist's presence to the client's self-presentation, there is revealed a di-
alectical relationship between presence and understanding: There is an interest in a kind of
information that the psychologist can both recognize and facilitate. The psychodiagnosti-
cian's interest is how he is looking. Simultaneously, the psychologist listens and looks for a
particular kind of self-disclosure and attends to facilitating the client's engaging in this kind
of self-disclosure. In listening and looking for a certain kind of information, the psycholo-
gist already has in mind a general sense of what constitutes such information. It is this pre-
conception of what he is looking for that constitutes what will stand out as relevant. In
attending to facilitation, the psychologist is attending to the interpersonal dynamics of the
encounter through which he can get the person to reach the "level" or "kind" of self-dis-
closure sought after. Both "listening for" and "attending to facilitating" serve the psychol-
ogist's reaching toward a kind of understanding. Psychodiagnostic seeing is a grasping, or
reaching toward, constituted by the stance of the particular psychologist who is doing the
reaching. That is, in the psychologist's "reaching toward," there is revealed a "from which"

lBecause of space limitations, only selections from the second area of findings (pertaining to ''the attentive re-
gard of the psychologist'') are presented here. The complete results are available in Churchill (1 984b, pp. 95-152).
194 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

the psychologist reaches, namely, the embodied, biographical, factical, finite (and ulti-
mately human) perspective of the psychologist. Psychodiagnostic seeing is not just a
recording or considering of information given by the client; it is an active seeing that is at
the same time a grasping that looks up, that seeks, that constitutes precisely what about the
client's self-givenness is to be considered information in the first place. The self-givenness
of the client does not become "information" for the psychologist unless he understands it in
such a way that it is relevant to his psychodiagnostic interests. Virtually everything about
the client's self-givenness that is relevant has been constituted as such by the psychologist's
particular style of seeing.

Passive Receptivity: Apperceptive and Empathic Modes of Presence

Although aimed toward the goal of making categorical judgments or "predications"
about the client, psychodiagnostic seeing is lived originally as a prepredicative or receptive
regard for the client through which the psychologist finds himself or herself "struck" by
perceptually given features that are physiognomic (physical characteristics, expressions,
dispositions). The perceptual salience of such features is a function of the psychologist's
own style of presence to others, which attunes his or her gaze to features that carry a mean-
ing relative to that style. Here the psychologist experiences the forming of impressions in a
receptive mode: "just listening to," or "feeling a sense of," the client. This mode is a passive
observing that follows the lead of the client. In hearing and feeling the client's speech while
observing the client's bodily presence, the psychologist is open without being totally pas-
sive, and interested without being directive. The openness of the psychologist is character-
ized by an attunedness for the unusual or unexpected. At such moments, the person
"constitutes himself" in a way that is experienced by the psychologist as not under his
direct control. It is the person who is "forming an impression" for the psychologist.

Illustration. 82 was first struck by his client's physical appearance, and he saw this
appearance as reflecting a "mode of life" consistent with his preconception of the client:
The client's physical delicacy (very slight, very blond, very white) were congruent with the
delicate (hesitant) attitude he exhibited toward the appointment, as manifested by his
"antsy" stance in the waiting room. Unusual facial features (a small face and bug eyes) were
perceived as revealing a "strange" personal quality. (8 himself has dark hair, a heavy beard,
and robust build, and wears glasses that diminish the appearance of his own eyes.) P's un-
usually large eyes and lips, which gave him the appearance of an alien, constituted for 82
the anticipation of a strangeness to be encountered in P's experience and behavior. What is
strange, alien, unusual, is precisely that which does not present itself as familiar or typical.
8imilarly, in 82's first impression over the phone, what stood out initially was the style of
expression: " ... his voice seemed rather businesslike...." " ... one of the reasons it stood
out was that I'm not used to it here." What became salient for 82 here was something he
was not used to in the context of his work with patients-a style of "professionalism" over
the phone: " ... he just sounded very distant-almost as though I was talking to an insur-
ance salesman.... Very businesslike." It was the unexpected quality ofPs voice that was
first languaged by 82 in terms of a style of expression that was already familiar to him but
in a different context. In his attentiveness to that which was out of the ordinary, there is re-
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 195

vealed a style of attention that distinguishes psychodiagnostic seeing from the everyday
"selective inattention" of the natural attitude. S I went even further in stating that he was
always looking for something out of the ordinary. So, while there is a spontaneous contem-
plative tendency toward the familiar (e.g., in terms of which typifications are produced),
there is a perceptual tendency toward the unusual that is typical and distinctive of psy-
chodiagnostic seeing.
S2 's attitude of openness, embodied in his "evenly hovering" presence, was directed
toward developing a global impression of the client's experience. In forming this impres-
sion, S2 was not calculatedly thinking of a diagnostic label; rather, he stayed at the level of
the client's self-description and attempted to get a feel for it: "Gee, this guy's really been de-
pressed: he hasn't been sleeping." S2's attentive regard is revealed here as a tendency toward
the concrete, vivid presence ofthe client's experience in S2's own experience ofp, and is un-
derstood by S2 as a function of his own personal style of interpersonal presence ("gentle,"
"reflective, quiet," and "just being pretty open") "poking through" his professional pres-
ence. S2 entered the interview "just listening to" the client's description of his situated feel-
ings, allowing a "first-level" meaning to be constituted by the client's own description. As
he allowed the client to form an impression in his experience, S2 was not explicitly think-
ing about it. As the impression began to form, S2 noticed himself "feeling easy and com-
fortable." Later, he found himself interested in the client's reaching even greater depths in
his self-disclosure. There is, then, a feeling of satisfaction that accompanies S2's interested
receptivity to the client. S2 feels easeful and comfortable with respect to the satisfaction of
his interest in the client.

Active Seeking: The Psychologist's Illuminating Presence

Psychodiagnostic seeing, although at times a more passive feeling, observing, listen-
ing to, is at other times a more active listening for that is a function of the foresight of the
psychologist. This foresight (i.e., the directive influence of the psychologist's preconcep-
tions and questions concerning the client) is lived as an active meaning-constituting pres-
ence to the client's self-presentation. In this mode of attending to the client, there is an
active seeking that is motivated by the aims of assessment and guided by the psychologist's
preconceptions of psychological typicalities and by the referral questions and information.
Part of what makes psychodiagnostic seeing a praxis is precisely this interest in develop-
ing a certain kind of articulated understanding. The psychologist's imagination is called into
playas a means of filling out initial impressions in a tentative way so that even in the ab-
sence of concrete expectations, the psychologist's foresight is constituted by imagined pos-
sibilities. In seeking, there can be at one extreme a closed-mindedness that shuts out from
sight everything except what is being sought. In this case, seeking becomes a blinding of
oneself to the fulsomeness of the client's self-presentation. A more open seeking is possible
when the psychologist holds in view his or her anticipations of how the client might appear,
while keeping those anticipations more horizontal. In any case, seeking reveals the psy-
chologist's presence as a tendency toward thematic understanding. That is, it is on the basis
of anticipations that the psychologist contemplates the client and thus not only receives im-
ages (presentations from the client that enter the psychologist's sensory experience), but
also moves toward an articulation of the sense of those images. This articulation consists
 196 SCOTT D. CHURCHill

of a thematic penetration to the "inner horizons," or personality, of the person being per-
ceived. The psychologist is not content to merely observe what is apparently self-evident
about the client's self-presentation, but seeks to "see through" [dia-gnosis] the apparent to
the psychological phenomena [psycho-diagnosis] that lie waiting to be brought to the sur-
face by a more penetrating gaze. This "looking for" is at once an act of knowing [gnosis].1t
stands between the signifier (the client's appearance) and the signified (the client's person-
ality), and sees the latter "through" the former. Thus, psychodiagnostic seeing is not only a
question of simple observation (i.e., the reception of the simple self-presentation of the
client in his or her altering modes of appearance) but also, and essentially, a question of
constituting and deciphering a relation of signifier to signified, or a relation of the visible
to a hidden level of visibility that is "in-visible." While present to the relationship of signi-
fier to signified, the psychologist does not simply observe, but actually constitutes this re-
lationship on the basis of his or her psychological foreknowledge.

Illustration. In light of his psychoanalytical background, Sl was "looking primarily

for historical information," as well as seeking to find out whether his client's intellectual de-
fenses were masking a psychotic process. This latter interest became a horizon against
which S 1's perceptions were understood; that is, presently perceived overt behaviors were
grasped as possibly being the appearance of some covert process. In this active mode of
seeking, the preconceptions and questions of the psychologist become the conditions of
possibility for whatever is to be understood about the client. For Sl, the penetrating psy-
choanalytical nature of his gaze made possible his viewing the client's interview behavior
as the surface of a depth and, at the same time, as significative of that depth. This signifi-
cation is not entirely self-evident; otherwise, anyone present to the client would observe his
psychological depths. A psychodiagnostician is called in on the case precisely because of
his special powers of perception. This power does not consist of any magic, but rather refers
to the psychologist's constitutive presence as an instrument of diagnosis. For example, S 1's
seeking "how in touch with his unconscious process he is apt to be" was constituted by his
"basic assumption" that some of the individual's behavior "gets stored in something called
the unconscious."
S2's perceptual activity was not only a passive listening; he also saw himself con-
sciously "looking for threads"-that is, discerning the essential elements of his client's ex-
perience-"and raising them to that level" of understanding that was constituted by S2 's
own theoretical stock of knowledge. The latter provided S2 with the psychological concepts
that generally inform his understanding of individuals, that is, that enable him to "go back
to the person and say, 'I think this is what's happening.'" S2's work thus consisted ofmov-
ing beyond the level of concreteness that was characteristic of his client's self-description.
To accomplish this, he viewed the events described "as an example of some psychological
thing which ties in with all kinds of other things." This was clearly an essential and distinc-
tive constituent of his psychodiagnostic seeing, namely, that he was explicitly present to his
preconceptions of psychological phenomena that provided his gaze with a kind of "fore-
sight" or way of seeing in-to the psychological meaning of the client's lived events. S2 re-
ported that at one point when he asked the client if he felt depressed,
his expression changed, become more grim, sad, almost despairing, and I got a feeling of, this
guy is much sadder than he's putting forth to me.... I remember thinking to myself, "Wow! This guy
is really in the depths" ... his whole posture changed, and his face just grew much sadder, and he
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 197

mentioned feeling uncomfortable, and for me, I thought, "Great!" I was really glad when that hap-
pened because it felt like there was some emotion in it, and when that happened I felt like, "Good,
now we're getting some depth." ... It was like I hit a raw nerve-and I was getting some results.

S2 was clearly not happy that his client was depressed; rather, he was pleased that the client
had expressed his depression. It was not even the content of the client's expression here, but
rather the kind of expression, toward which S2 most fundamentally directed his attention.
Given his personal interest as a psychologist in depths of expression, S2 was actively on the
lookout for this in his client's self-expression, and was pleased when he finally saw that his
client was "in the depths" because he was finally "getting some results." Here it is clear that
getting to the depths of the client's experience was the aim of S2's work. We find here, as
in the case of empathic receptivity, a feeling of satisfaction that occurs when the percep-
tual interest finds fulfillment in the client's self-presentation.
Similarly, when S I found himself less distracted by the videocamera and thus able to
direct "more of my attention to listening to the client," he said to himself, "Thank God!" He
was pleased that at least his most general psychodiagnostic interest (i.e., to direct his atten-
tion to the client) was being fulfilled. Later, toward the end of the interview, Sl found him-
self getting tense and anxious because he had "not fully gotten the kind of history" he had
wanted. Here again, the psychologist appears to be affected by either the fulfillment or the
disappointment of his interest, which also implies the success or failure of his project. At
the end of the interview, S 1 was "satisfied that the mission had been accomplished, that I
had gotten what I had gone in there for," and "was feeling better about the client's situa-
tion-more hopeful." Here we find three different interests fulfilled: (1) the task interest,
namely the project of accomplishing a self-chosen goal; (2) the psychological interest,
namely, seizing upon information from the client relevant to S I 's psychological interests;
and (3) a prognostic interest with a distinctively altruistic character, namely, an interest in
the client's future welfare.
The striving toward fulfillment of interests during the course of psychodiagnostic
seeing reveals something essential about this mode of seeing. It is not, even in its more
passive moments, anything like the casual regard of a man sitting on a park bench with
freedom to turn his attention toward anything at will. Nor is it, in its more active mo-
ments, like the intense and discerning attention of the person driving an automobile
through a snowstorm. The attentive regard of the psychodiagnostician is not characterized
by the capriciousness of the man on the park bench because, regardless of the particular
direction of the gaze and the particular style of "turning toward" characteristic of the psy-
chologist, there is always a striving toward the contemplation of the "self" of the client,
a striving that seeks to remain focused on the client as thematic object. Thus, psychodi-
agnostic seeking involves an active turning away from other possible thematic objects.
Neither is the psychodiagnostic gaze characterized by the kind of "depth" of the attention
of the automobile driver, because the former is a reflective gaze, a seeing of meanings
that hover around one central perceptual object, rather than an intense scanning of the
surface of an ever-changing perceptual field. (The psychologist's attention to the indi-
vidual's personal depths is, indeed, what gave birth to the expression "depth psychology"
in the early part of this century.) These two characteristics of the attentive regard of the
psychodiagnostician are distinctive and essential: It is a turning toward one perceptual
object and, most important, it is an interest in the explication of "psychological" profiles
or aspects or meanings of this object.
198 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

The Self-Refledive Experience of the Psychologist

The anticipating, imaging, feeling, perceiving, remembering, and task-facilitating ac-
tivities of the psychologist are all directed toward a contemplative explication of the client's
psychological life, otherwise known as a "clinical impression." All of these contemplative
acts, directed toward the client as thematic object, are ''unreflective'' to the extent that the
psychologist's attention, or "positional consciousness," is directed away from his own acts,
which remain unthematized as the noetic means of his or her noematic syntheses. There are,
however, moments of the psychologist's experience during the course of psychodiagnostic
seeing when the interest is directed toward the psychologist's own experience, toward his or
her own feelings, behaviors, thoughts, and intentions, taken as thematic object.

Self-Monitoring Presence. Psychodiagnostic seeing is lived simultaneously as an

attention to the client and a self-monitoring presence to the psychologist's own feelings
and expressions. This self-awareness is called into play in two ways. First, the psycholo-
gist's own affective experience is understood as revelatory of the client's psychological
life. Concretely, the psychologist's own gut level reactions to the client are not only taken
notice of, but also seen as signals to something that the client is doing. Second, the psy-
chologist controls expression of these reactions in the interest of maintaining rapport with
the client. The psychologist is aware of aspects of his or her oWIi experience that are visi-
ble, as in the specific awareness that the act of psychodiagnostic seeing (e.g., the pene-
trating gaze) is itself seen by, and thereby affects, the client. Even beyond this, there is a
control of the psychologist's perceptual tendencies. Specifically, the psychologist tries to
guard against distractions of any kind, whether they be personal concerns, extraneous in-
terferences, or even the psychologist's own curiosity. In general, distractions are the cor-
relates of an intending gaze that, for the moment, is not motivated by psychodiagnostic
interests. It is the self-monitoring alertness of the psychologist that redirects the psychol-
ogist's attention to the task-related interests of the interview. Self-monitoring presence is
thus distinctive of psychodiagnostic seeing insofar as it constitutes a very specific form of
self-experience consisting of observation and control of one's own perceptions, feelings,
and actions.

Self-Consciousness and Role-Awareness. The psychologist lives his experience of

the psychodiagnostic assessment as a kind of performance that can be perceived as others:
He is aware of aspects of his own experience that are visible and invisible, aware of how his
colleagues might judge his performance if they were looking, and aware of the impact of his
presence upon the client. The experience of being seen, whether actual or virtual, can make
thematic for the psychologist an awareness ofliving a role, a self-consciousness about who
one is (and how one measures up) in the psychodiagnostic interview situation. Although
role-awareness can become a distraction from the psychodiagnostic task, for the most part
the psychologist lives the role of diagnostician prethematically. Moments when the psy-
chologist's role shifts can occasion a thematic awareness of what one is up to. In assess-
ment, this awareness is revealed particularly in the transition from the interview phase into
testing, which is experienced by the psychologist as a modification of both his role and the
atmosphere of the encounter. The atmosphere becomes more task-oriented with more of a
"work flavor," more formal and serious. The psychologist experiences a shift in his role
from "interested friend" to "technician."
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 199

Critical Reflection. Distinctive of psychodiagnostic seeing is the psychologist's criti-

cal presence to the explications made regarding the client's psychological life, whether they
originate in the client's understanding or the psychologist's. To the extent that the client's own
thematizations are understood to be revelatory of the psychological realm that is of interest
to the particular psychologist, there is a positing of interest in these thematizations (which
constitute the client's "story"). Although the psychologist's empathic presence to the client is
characterized by an implicit belief in the validity of the client's statements for the client, there
occurs a disruption of this belief when the psychologist becomes aware of a discrepancy be-
tween the client's description of his or her experience and what the psychologist perceives as
self-evident on the basis of the client's behavior and expressive gestures. In the psychologist's
critical evaluation of the client's use of psychological or otherwise sophisticated language to
describe his or her experience, there is revealed a bracketing or stripping away of intellectu-
alizations and a positing of belief in both the client's naive experiential descriptions and the
psychologist's own perceptions of the client. This reveals the psychodiagnostic gaze as a di-
recting of attention toward the client's experience as lived; this attention, in turn, is lived by
the psychologist as a suspension of belief in accuracy with respect to the subject's descrip-
tion of his experience. The psychologist not only "checks" the client's self-report against his
or her own perceptions, but also brings his or her own explications under the same scrutiny.
Aware that wishes, anticipations, and preconceptions can result in self-fulfilling prophesies,
the psychologist critically reflects on his or her impressions in an effort to purge them of any
such preconceptions not validated by the client's self-givenness. The psychologist's personal
sense of the validity of explications (i.e., the adequacy of languaging) is constituted by the
psychologist's preconceptions within the realm of "the psychological." Although the achieve-
ment of such an adequacy of description (e.g., in psychological report writing) is limited by
or relative to the psychologist's capacity for critical reflection, such reflection appears as an
essential constituent of psychodiagnostic seeing.

THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL IMPLICATIONS

I first discuss implications of my findings with respect to two pairs of distinctions that
have been made in the literature: (1) "informal" versus "formal" modes of assessment and
(2) "inference" versus "intuition" theories of person perception. Following this discussion,
I suggest some implications for the training of clinical psychologists.

Informal versus Formal Assessment

A topic of interest to clinical and social psychologists alike is the relationship between
everyday and clinical styles of impression formation. The clinical interest is to better under-
stand the informal (everyday) processes of person perception in order to facilitate a more dis-
ciplined employment of these acts in clinical contexts. In this section, I discuss how clinical
psychologists have typically understood the relation of everyday to clinical styles of percep-
tion and offer another approach to this issue in view of my findings. My position is that the
assessment literature4 has generally failed to adequately address the issue of incorporating

'Notable exceptions to this criticism would include Allport (1937), Sullivan (1954), Dana (1982), and C. T. Fischer
(1994).
200 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

everyday processes of person perception into psychodiagnosis due to a misconception of the

relationship between the two.
The distinction made in the clinical literature between formal (clinical) and informal
(everyday) assessment suggests that formal assessment is more disciplined than informal
assessment. It follows that to incorporate informal modes of person perception into clinical
assessment would consist of taking up the former in a more disciplined way than in every-
day situations. Holt (1971, p. 43) writes: "As soon as the methods of science are applied to
an informal, everyday process, it begins to turn into a discipline. perhaps eventually into a
technology, and even a science." The question I am raising here is whether the activities that
fall under the rubric of "formal assessment" are, in fact, a scientific reappropriation of in-
formal impression-formation activities.
Holt suggests that pedestrian modes of person perception can be formalized by apply-
ing scientific methods to them. He means that scientific investigation would establish the
validity of everyday modes of person perception so that they could then be legitimately
brought into the framework of formal diagnosis. The question is: How would these informal
modes be incorporated into a "technology" of formal assessment? Would they remain as in-
formal natural processes, or would they become changed and possibly artificial as a result?
Holt (1971) appears to be ambivalent on this point. On one hand, he suggests that "in dis-
covering psychological principles ... and in applying them to everyday life, we should not
hesitate to make use of empathy and to rely on our feelings" (p. 13). Thus, we can use em-
pathy, feelings, and intuition to discover that empathy, feeling, and intuition are human
processes involved in person perception. Furthermore, we are free to apply these processes
to everyday life situations. On the other hand, Holt states that in order to apply these
processes to the clinical situation, they must be "systematized."
To systematize person perception would consist of first researching it and then, on the
basis of having opened one's eyes more fully to its dimensions, practicing this everyday
process in the clinical situation. This is essentially what Sullivan (1954) meant when he de-
scribed the clinician as, ideally, an "expert in interpersonal relations." Although calling for
a systematic improvement of the clinician's social skills, Holt (1971) ultimately places more
emphasis on what appears to be a regimentation of information-assessment activities. His
own chapters on formal assessment do not present a clinical application of principles of
person perception derived from empirical research. Rather, he discusses such conventional
topics as structured interviews, free association, objective tests, and projective techniques.
The "discipline" of formal assessment is thus to be found in the structuring of interviews
and in the formality of tests; the assessors own powers of understanding are not brought into
the discussion. Instead of simply allowing for a degree of informality within assessment,
Holt ends up trying to formalize an essentially informal process and, in doing so, replaces
the informal process with technique.
In my research, I found that the subjects were cognizant of their experience of their
clients in a way that I would not expect to find in the average person. This leads me to be-
lieve that what makes clinical assessment "formal" is not the perceptual processes involved
but how these processes are taken up----namely, more deliberately. Rather than seeing the
distinction between formal and informal assessment as corresponding to different kinds of
impression-formation activities, which then have to be reconciled in the practice of assess-
ment, I would suggest that we view these activities along the lines of James's (1950, p. 221)
distinction between "knowledge of acquaintance" and "knowledge-about." That is, it would
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 201

seem that the "informal" and "formal" categories refer not so much to types of assessment
as to a relative degree of clarity with respect to how one is structuring one's perceptions.
This relativity exists in both everyday and clinical contexts and is a function of the per-
ceiver's reflective alertness to his or her own perceptual process.
What is distinctive of psychodiagnostic seeing is that the perceiver is relatively more
alert to all that is happening, both "formally" and "informally" (in Holt's sense), than in
everyday perception. The clinical alertness of my subjects was evident, for example, in their
wondering if they were getting enough information, in their awareness of which of
their own idiosyncratic interests tended to distract them from the task of assessment, and
in their reflection upon the significance of their being affected by the client or of the fact
that they were mirroring each other's gestures during the interview. Their rather spon-
taneous consciousness within the interview situation can be viewed as an informal "knowl-
edge of acquaintance" of the client that is no less a part of psychodiagnostic seeing than the
"formal," that is, deliberate, attempts to scrutinize these "informal" impressions. It is the
self-scrutiny of the psychologist that facilitates development of the more precise "knowl-
edge-about" the client that is characteristic of clinical impressions. In this respect, I would
agree that the difference between pedestrian and psychodiagnostic styles of impression for-
mation lies not in the perceptual processes utilized, but in "the degree of validity sought and
the definiteness of the inferences made" (Sarbin, Taft, & Bailey, 1960, pp. 16-17).
Another way in which my findings speak to the idea of a formal/informal distinction
in assessment is in the elaboration of types of attention and explication. Holt's (1971) global
differentiation can be delineated further through the results of this study. For example, the
sections on "passive receptivity" and "active seeking" clarify, on the level of the psycholo-
gist's presence to the client, how in fact both the psychologist's informal and formal per-
ceptions are constituted by task-related interests. Likewise, the section on spontaneous and
deliberate modes of explication clarifies, with respect to the psychologist's impressions of
the client, the genetic relationship between simple modes of explication (of the "knowledge
of acquaintance" variety) and more complex, integrative modes (of the "knowledge-about"
variety). The formal/informal distinction can be further elaborated with respect to the psy-
chologist's task-facilitating presence. Both subjects reported a more personable, social (in-
formal) style of comportment toward the client during the interview phase, as opposed to a
more technical, task-oriented (formal) style in the testing phase. This, in turn, sheds light on
why Holt emphasizes the "test" features of assessment in his presentation of "formal as-
sessment." We often think of formality with respect to customs and manners, so it is in the
psychologist's comportment toward the client that the distinction becomes obvious. By an-
alyzing psychodiagnostic seeing with respect to attentive regard and formation of impres-
sions, this study has helped to clarify the relation of "everyday" to "clinical" modes of
perception.

Inference Theory versus Intuition Theory of Impression Formation

There has been a long-standing theoretical debate over the process by which we form
an impression of another person. On one hand, there is the view that the subjectivity of the
other is not revealed directly in perception, but is inferred by means of a distinct act of cog-
nition. On the other hand, there is the view that sensing and jUdging occur simultaneously
in an immediate act of intuition, so that an impression of the other is formed perceptually
 202 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

without the mediation of inference. The resolution of this controversy appears, in light of
my findings, to be more a matter of "both/and" than "either/or."
Two modes of attentive regard were discovered. The first, passive receptivity, would
correspond to what is generally referred to as acts of "intuition." The second, active seek-
ing, would be involved in any act of "inference" whereby the perceiver seeks to discover
something beyond what is immediately evident. For example, S 1 was interested in finding
whether his client's intellectual brightness was masking a psychotic process such as schiz-
ophrenia or depression. In raising the question of psychosis, there was certainly an act of in-
ference, in the sense that S I wondered whether the client's brightness was a sign (or mask)
of a hidden process. In making hypotheses, the psychologist does use inference. The issue
is whether the psychologist, in confirming a hypothesis, proceeds only by inference. The
data indicate that there is also the possibility of a direct intuition. S2 observed that his client
appeared to be depressed, although not in a diagnostic sense. Staying at the level of de-
scription, S2 articulated how he saw the client's depression in the latter's posture, tone of
voice, and complaint of being unable to sleep. He did not infer depression; for him, it was
given perceptually in the client's self-presentation.
One reason that inference theorists deny intuition is that their approach to perception
is based upon a disparaging view of the body. On one hand, the other's body isn't "enough"
to convince us of his or her conscious agency; on the other hand, the perceiver's body is
nothing more than a conveyer of information-a mechanical means of representation, not
an intelligent presence. If we understand that "all perceivers have bodies and are oriented to
embodied existence" (Giorgi, 1976, p. 6), then our approach to the perception of others is
quite different. Rather than attempting to isolate the intervening cognitive variables of im-
pression formation (see Arthur, 1966; Hammond, Hursch, & Todd, 1964; Holtzman, 1966;
Lanyon, 1972), we would approach the latter as an act of the integrated body-subject (Mer-
leau-Ponty, 1962). Acknowledging the problem that decision-making technologists face in
attempting to replace clinical intuition with data processing, Holt (1971, p. 12) writes: "The
objective ideal of completely mechanized assessment will be impossible until computers
can be taught to feel, to judge, and to care about people." Technological thinking, with its
striving for efficiency, loses sight of human intuition in its "one-track" search for fast and
reliable formulas of data processing. It treats the psychologist as a mind, not as a person. It
cannot replace the experience of intuition, because only persons can feel and thereby intuit;
pure minds would be able only to infer, insofar as they would be programmed to move from
one piece of information to another. As science continues to investigate the cognitive activ-
ity of the clinician, one might ask: "What becomes of the man-not of the brain but of
the man.... What becomes of the face-to-face, the meeting, the seeing, the forming of the
idea ... ?" (Heidegger, 1968, p. 42).
The problem is that research aimed toward improving the reliability and efficiency of
clinical decision making often results in a theory and practice of diagnostic assessment that
loses sight of its human context. Part of that context is the human way in which the psy-
chologist perceives the client. My subjects were hard-pressed to analyze their impressions
into an orderly sequence of perceptual and cognitive acts. Rather, they described their im-
pressions as having a "sudden" quality to them, while acknowledging that there was a lot
going on all at once in their experience. This "all-at-once" quality should not be dismissed
merely as a function of the subjects' poor powers of introspection, as has been done in the
past by cognitive psychologists. Rather, such self-reports should be taken as a clue to how
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 203

impressions are in fact formed. Clinicians might learn how to form more meaningful im-
pressions if they become more open to their humanness instead of thinking like machines.
Another part of this human context is, of course, the client. The psychologist must first be
oriented toward the client in his or her humanness in order to be able to form an adequate
impression. A computer is capable neither of assuming a human posture toward others nor
of being oriented toward others in their humanness, because no program is capable of rep-
resenting the activities of a body subject.
Psychodiagnostic seeing, as revealed in this study, is more a matter of direct intuiting
than of processing data. To be sure, these results do indicate that there are moments when
the psychologist does form hypotheses based on inference. But these hypotheses are auxil-
iary to the process of seeing, not the basis for it. The implication is that instead of infer-
ence and intuition being left to stand as two opposing theoretical understandings of
impression formation, they can be understood as two different modes of person perception,
two modes that can best be understood as parts of a whole that are experientially integrated
within the impression-formation process.
Informal processes of assessment such as empathy, imagination, and intuition have
been presented above as essential constituents of the psychologist's experience of psy-
chodiagnostic seeing. What follows are some implications for the practice of clinical as-
sessment that emerged from a further exploration of these phenomena.

Imaging and Empathic Contemplation in the Formation

of Clinical Impressions
The assessment literature dwells on clinical judgment and information processing
while paying very little attention to the psychologist's use of images in diagnosis. The
findings of this study reveal that images play an essential role in the genesis of clinical
impressions. Psychodiagnostic knowledge is achieved by the psychologist's acts of
"predication," which build upon images to produce explications that are revelatory of
the psychological life of the client. Images are produced spontaneously as correlatives
of the psychologist's receptive regard. Although the term "image" is sometimes used to
denote pictorial representation in the imagination, I am using the term here as it is cus-
tomarily used to connote the correlative of both perceptual and imaginary acts. Further-
more, as with terms such as "gaze" and "seeing," there is no visual bias intended by the
term "image." Rather, in what Merleau-Ponty (1962) calls "a natural attitude of vision"
(p. 227), that is, a common, naive understanding of the visual and thus of visual lan-
guage, there is revealed "a 'primary layer' of sense experience which precedes its divi-
sion among the separate senses" (p. 227). Similarly, in speaking of "images" I am
referring to what the psychologist experiences in Ii feeling, sensing, listening, observing
presence to the client, which is in fact the way the term was used in context by my re-
search subjects.
The psychologist's imaging of the client, from simple apprehension of physiognomy
to the more contemplative "filling out" of first impressions, is initiated by the client's en-
tering into the perceptual field of the psychologist. For example, S2 's experience of his
client's voice over the phone was not a deliberate contemplation but rather a spontaneous
adumbration of images, "just sort of noting [the client's] tone of voice, his expressions, his
capacity to share personal information." This psychologist experienced the client forming
204 SCOTT D. CHURCHILL

the impressions for him. Initially, he was not thinking in terms of classification; rather, his
presence was more empathic:
I'm trying to get some kind of global impression of what's going on with him. I don't sit there
thinking, "Hmm, unipolar depression." What I think is, "Gee, this guy's really been depressed, he
hasn't been sleeping," and I might wonder to myself if he's having nightmares, I wonder ... if he
can't fall asleep or wakes up early. I try to fill that in ....

The wondering here was the filling out of the initial image by 82's empathic taking up, or
feeling into (einfiihlen), the fact that the client had not been sleeping well. Wondering ap-
pears as a way of setting up anticipations about the client. That is, 82 utilized his imagina-
tion in a disciplined way to open up possibilities for subsequent confirmation. Here, the
movement into imagination is grounded in and motivated by 82's concern for and contem-
plative presence to his client. He momentarily turns away from direct observation in order
to return better informed.
82 also said that he would "try to fill in" the particular nature of the client's sleep dis-
turbance as he further developed his clinical impression. The filling in of the impression
could be either explicitly imagined or implicitly anticipated through the constitutive presence
of 82's foreknowledge of possibilities of sleep disturbances. That is, foreknowledge can ei-
ther motivate the filling out of the initial image in the psychologist's imagination or remain
implicit as an anticipatory horizon for his subsequent act of recognition in which possibili-
ties imagined earlier find fulfillment (Le., are re-cognized) in the perceptual reality.
It is upon these simple acts of explication that the more complex explications are
founded. There is an abundance of literature on the psychologist's acts of typification, pre-
diction, and interpretation, which comprise the explications arrived at by means of a more
deliberate striving. 8uch findings during an assessment are the intentional correlatives of a
regard that seeks. I have given equal emphasis in the general structural description to the
spontaneous images that are the correlatives of an empathic, receptive regard because these
images form the basis or noematic nucleus for all subsequent perceptions and explications
that are integrated into the clinical impression. The initial imaging is an essential part of the
"art" of assessment even if it is an informal procedure that has only a tacit presence in the
assessment findings. Psychologists prefer to speak of their "formal" findings, and so the lit-
erature on assessment emphasizes prediction and diagnostic classification.
The implication I draw from my findings regarding the genetic importance of initial
imaging is that clinical psychologists should explore more rigorously in their own experi-
ence the development of first impressions, which is a domain of research usually reserved
for social psychologists. Informal assessment activities such as empathic and imaginative
contemplation indeed must come under the psychologist's self-scrutiny if they are to be-
come a disciplined part of psychodiagnostic procedure. Trainees in assessment might be-
gin with a long period devoted to critiCal discussion of how they form first impressions.
Person-perception research could be consulted to make them more aware of sources of er-
ror as well as their own untapped resources. The trainee might strive to become more at-
tuned, for example, to the potentially rich source of psychodiagnostic insight to be found
in the more spontaneous upsurge of images during the encounter with a client. The find-
ing that there are active and passive modes of attention and impression formation suggests
that psychologists might be trained to develop their aptitude for each style, rather than just
accepting that "this is my style-this is the way I am." While allowing for stylistic differ-
ences, namely, tendencies toward either the more passive "receptive" mode or the more ac-
INTENTIONALITY OF PSYCHODIAGNOSTIC SEEING 205

tive "seeking" mode, training programs might try to enhance psychologists' skills in their
weaker modes in addition to working with their strengths. Both modes can be effective di-
agnostic listening skills, similar to the way that introversion and extraversion (as "experi-
ence types" on the Rorschach) are both effective styles of coping with reality. Although
psychologists certainly need to "be themselves," they also have a responsibility to call
upon all their psychological skills to form the most complete picture of their clients that
they can.

CONCLUDING REMARKS

To the extent that psychodiagnostic seeing is a "function of covert processes" (Sulli-

van, 1954, p. 54), the question of "knowing how you are looking" becomes a difficult one
both for the clinician and for the researcher who attempts to bring these processes to light.
This study follows a phenomenological approach in attempting to articulate the often im-
plicit perceptual and cognitive acts involved in the forming of clinical impressions. It is
hoped that the reader will have gained some useful insight into both the process of inten-
tional analysis and that of psychodiagnostic seeing.

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 9

Dissociative Women's
Experiences of Self-Cutting
Faith A. Robinson

INTRODUCTION

This research was developed to discover the essence of the phenomenon of nonsuicidal,
self-cutting behavior among highly dissociative persons. Because of their own personal
fears grounded in a lack of understanding, therapists, emergency room personnel, and cri-
sis intervention workers often back away from or are ill prepared to help nonsuicidal
self-cutters who have dissociative disorders. Subsequently, professional ignorance about
self-cutting often leads self-cutters to withdrawal, isolation, and increased shame and guilt.
Many of the women who participated in this study had not revealed their self-cutting be-
haviors to anyone except their therapist; often, their therapists had not asked for details
about their cutting behaviors. In fact, I heard three of these women say, "No one ever asked
me about this."
During this research, a complex interplay between fears, needs, trust/distrust, and guilt
became apparent, and I could see how the complexity of emotions would inhibit openness
in therapy. For such a clinically relevant behavior to be undisclosed complicates therapeu-
tic dynamics and adversely affects an individual's prognosis. One of the positive outcomes
from this research is the opening of communication channels about this very complex and
secretive behavior.
I chose the phenomenological method of research to answer important clinical ques-
tions and provide insight into the forces operating within self-cutting behaviors. Rather
than trying to answer the first obvious question of "why," I wanted to know something of
the meaning of the experience from the views of the cutters themselves. I felt that assisting

Faith A. Robinson • 26485 Carmel Rancho Boulevard, Suite 6, Carmel, California 93923.

209
 210 FAITH A. ROBINSON

professionals to develop the art of comprehending the essence of this potentially dangerous
behavior could bring about greater understanding, patience, and compassion and, ulti-
mately, be most helpful to the cutters themselves.
The participants in this study met the criteria for Multiple Personality Disorder ac-
cording to the diagnostic criteria defined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual ofMen-
tal Disorders-Third Edition, Revised (DSM-III-R) (American Psychiatric Association
[APA], 1987). Most references will be to the diagnostic category in use at the time of the re-
search (Multiple Personality Disorder [MPD]), since this research occurred prior to the
publication of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual ofMental Disorders-Fourth Edition
(DSM-IV) (APA, 1994), which expanded the criteria and renamed the category Dissocia-
tive Identity Disorder (DID).

CURRENT PERSPECTIVES ON DISSOCIATION AND SELF-MUTILATION

Recognition and Prevalence of Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD)

Although once viewed as a "rare" disorder, MPD is currently being recognized and
studied with increasing frequency. MPD is a "complicated clinical disorder" that involves
"fragmentation of self and the transformation of identity" (Ross, 1989, p. 9). A major review
of the history of MPD cites 33 reported cases from 1901 to 1944, 14 from 1944 to 1969, and
50 personally known to one researcher (Greaves, 1980). Braun (1986) estimates that the
nmnber of identified and reported MPD cases went from 500 in 1979 to 5000 in 1986.
This number may be low considering the magnitude of research currently reported.
For example, an epidemiological survey of 454 Canadian adults from Winnipeg's general
population found a 1% prevalence of MPD and 10% prevalence of some type of dissocia-
tive disorder (Ross, 1991). A symptom severity study of 166 MPD and 57 Dissociative Dis-
order Not Otherwise Specified (DDNOS) patients led Ross to conclude that pathological
dissociation may be as common as anxiety, mood, and substance abuse disorders (Ross et
at, 1992). A total of 50 clinical MPD patients in Indiana were studied by Coons, Bowman,
and Milstein (1988) to assess etiological factors in MPD. A 1992 Trenton State Prison study
of 49 inmates found that 60% of the population met the criteria for dissociative disorders
(34% MPD, 26% DDNOS) (Culiner, 1993).

Complexity of MPD Cases

The increased reporting of the nmnber of MPD cases comes along with an increased
reporting of the complexity and severity of cases. The earliest reports involved only a few
alter personalities. Kluft (1984) studied 33 MPD patients who had an average of 13.9 alters.
In 1988, his practice contained 26 patients who had been under clinical observation for 3 or
more years and who had over 25 alters each. Cases now have been reported with as many as
100 alters (Kluft, 1988).

Childhood Exposure to Violence and Abuse

A look at the literature reveals strong evidence for histories of physical and/or sexual
childhood abuse preceding self-mutilative behaviors (Carol, Schaffer, Spensley, &
Abramowitz:, 1980; Green, 1967, 1978; Grunebaum & Klerman, 1967; Roy, 1978). De-
DISSOCIATIVE WOMEN'S EXPERIENCES OF SELF-CUTTING 211

scriptions of "some or excessive" violence in the home during childhood have been dispro-
portionately reported. Self-mutilating patients report not being allowed to express anger in
the home (Caroll et ai., 1980) and recall childhood memories of excessive physical punish-
ment (Roy, 1978).
Trauma plays a significant role in the etiology of MPD (Coons, 1980; Greaves,
1980). Histories of such persons reveal a high incidence of incest trauma (the most com-
monly reported trauma) (Blume, 1986; Putnam, 1986). Sexual abuse is a debilitating event
that causes children to fear punishment, family breakup, disturbance of "their" world, and
death if they divulge the "secret." In addition, survivors are often forbidden to express
anger; the unexpressed anger must therefore be held inside until it becomes a deep rage
(Blume, 1986).

Dissociation as a Childhood Defense Mechanism

The development of the capacity to dissociate during childhood is now seen as a de-
fense mechanism that is a psychological, biological adaptation to a set of repeated childhood
traumas (Putnam, 1989). Depersonalization is also a powerful form of defense. Research
shows a strong connection between depersonalization and self-mutilative behavior. Mount-
ing anxiety leads to depersonalization, overwhelming emotion, and loss of contact with re-
ality just prior to self-mutilation (Rosenthal, Rinzler, Walsh, & Klausner, 1972). In fact, there
is extensive evidence that many cutters report no pain or an altered perception of pain during
the process of cutting (Bach-y-Rita, 1974; Grunebaum & Klerman, 1967; Rosenthal et ai.,
1972). Some see cutting behaviors as responses to depersonalized states and to desires to
return to reality, rather than as direct responses to inner rage (Pitman, 1990).
In summary, several factors are apparent. First, dissociative disorders are clearly asso-
ciated with early childhood traumas in the form of emotional, physical, and/or sexual (usu-
ally incestuous) abuse. Second, a common childhood defense against these traumas is
depersonalization. Third, there is an association between depersonalization and self-abuse
in the form of self-mutilation. This evidence strongly suggests that client self-mutilative be-
havior should lead clinicians to a serious consideration of the possibility of a dissociative
disorder.

Self-Mutilation Associated with Borderline Personality Disorder

Unfortunately, self-mutilation is more clearly connected in the literature to the diag-
nostic category of Borderline Personality Disorder. I think some of the reasons for this are:
(1) MPD was a mysterious, little-understood, and underreported disorder until the 1980s;
(2) dissociative disorders are very complex, and too few clinicians are seeking education
in this clinical area; and (3) self-mutilative behavior is a major symptom of Borderline Per-
sonality Disorder (APA, 1987, 1994). Together, I think these factors have impeded accurate
diagnoses and treatment for may self-mutilators who suffer from dissociative disorders.
Looking at the diagnostic criteria for MPD, the DSM-III-R suggested that MPD per-
sons were often misdiagnosed as having only Borderline Personality Disorder because of
mood swings, poor self-image, and disruptive interpersonal behaviors (no reference is
specifically made here to self-mutilative behaviors). A single reference to self-mutilation is
found under possible complications: "Suicide attempts, self-mutilation, externally directed
violence (including child abuse, assault, or rape), and Psychoactive Substance Dependence
212 FAITH A. ROBINSON

Disorders are possible complications" (APA, 1987, p. 271). The updated version of the
DSM has a more accurate description of the disorder with no cross-reference to Borderline
Personality Disorder and more information linking self-mutilative acts with dissociative
disorders (APA, 1987, 1994).
In Walsh and Rosen's (1988) Self-Mutilation: Theory, Research and Treatment, chap-
ters are dedicated to several clinical populations, including adolescents, borderlines, psy-
chotics, and retarded or autistic popUlations. There is no index reference to dissociative
disorders in this 273-page book.
In Favazza's (1993) Bodies Under Siege: Self-Mutilation in Culture and Psychiatry (a
270-page book on self-mutilation), there are several index notations for Borderline Person-
ality Disorder and one single index notation (referencing one single paragraph) to the dis-
sociative disorder MPD. Favazza describes MPD as a "rare diagnosis" and self-cutting as
"brutal acts" performed by alter egos. Included in this single paragraph is Bliss's (1980) ex-
cellent point that women will direct rage toward themselves, while men will direct rage to-
ward others. Favazza concludes with Bliss's reference to "strange assaultive and lethal
crimes" committed by possible MPD males and a passing reference to Putnam's (1986)
study comparing "internal homicide" to acts of self-mutilation (p. 135).
Despite sparse and misrepresentative offerings in these two books on self-mutilation,
if one looks afbooks specifically addressing dissociative disorders, one will find references
on self-destructive behaviors and ample support for the connection between dissociative
disorders and self-mutilative behavior (Kluft & Fine, 1993; Loewenstein, 1991; Putnam,
1989; Ross, 1989; Ross et aI., 1989). Blume's (1986) work with sexual abuse survivors re-
veals elements common to both MPD patients and cutters, including depersonalization,
alienation from one's body, and self-mutilative acts. Putnam (1986) found self-mutilative
behaviors in at least 33% ofMPD patients. In yet another study, self-mutilation was a com-
mon occurrence among 48% of 100 dissociative clinic patients (Coons & Milstein, 1990).
As mentioned above, there is strong evidence linking dissociative disorders to severe,
recurrent traumas. The abuse suffered by the more severely disturbed dissociative patients
is believed to be more sadistic and bizarre. Severe abuse histories and complex personality
systems increase the likelihood of self-destructive behavior (Ross, 1989).
To thoroughly understand dissociative disorders in today's climate, one should become
aware of related, controversial issues. Such issues include the validity of recalled memo-
ries and the actuality of reported ritual abuse. Both of these issues are pertinent to the data
collected in this research. I will present some information here to help the reader be some-
what aware of the issues raised for each of these controversial SUbjects.

Reliability of Reported Memories

First, let us look at the concept of reliability of memory. One of the major controver-
sies surrounding reports of alleged abuse involves the credibility of reports of the survivors'
memories. All memory is false to some degree. Memory depends on existing mental
schemata and integrates experience in a schema based on previous experience. A well-func-
tioning hippocampus is required for the mind to adapt and categorize data properly. Expe-
riences during states of intense emotion follow different neural pathways of memory
consolidation. A century ago, Pierre Janet suggested that "vehement emotions" accompa-
nying traumatic experiences interfere with information processing and recategorization at a
verbal and symbolic level (van der Kolk, 1993).
DISSOCIATIVE WOMEN'S EXPERIENCES OF SELF-CUTTING 213

That a memory might be distorted or false does not mean a person is intentionally ly-
ing. Some details of the memory may be authentic and other details distorted. Therapists
need to consider the intensity of presenting behaviors relative to a patient's usual presenta-
tion and inquire about further details to evaluate the validity of a report. Van Benschoten
(1990, p. 28) states: "The literal truth is intricately and inextricably woven together with
threads of misperception, suggestion, illusion, dissociation, and induced trance phenomena,
to form the complex web which becomes the survivor's memories." She provides several
examples of studies in which memories of traumatic events were radically changed.
A now-famous study (Loftus, 1993) of implanting "created" memories of being five
years old and lost in a shopping mall reveals the suggestibility of the mind and the unrelia-
bility of memory. After 2 weeks of suggestion, the young man in Loftus's study related
vivid details that were continually expanding; these details included the balding head and
glasses of the fictitious man who had rescued him (p. 532).

Ritual Abuse
Next, let us look at the controversial topic of ritual abuse. Clinical cases of ritual abuse
are being documented, including clinical accounts that contain emotionally shocking and
almost unbelievable information. The term "ritualized abuse" was initially used to cate-
gorize a survivor's experiences of satanic abuse memories. pazder's (1980) definition, cited
in Kahaner (1988, p. 201), is "repeated physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual assaults
combined with a systematic use of symbols, ceremonies, and machinations designed and
orchestrated to attain malevolent effects."
A broader definition of ritual abuse was printed in Survivorship, a publication for sur-
vivors of ritual abuse, torture, and mind control (Star Dancer, 1993, p. 4):
Ritual Abuse is any repeated, systematic mistreatment perpetrated in the name of an ideology
or dogma. This abuse may be mental, physical, emotional, spiritual or sexual and frequently com-
bines all of these types of abuse in an attempt to condition every aspect of the victim's humanity to-
ward that ideology. Ritual abuse is often practiced in the context of religious or pseudo-religious
ceremonies, but is supported through chronic instances of individual, non-ceremonial abusive acts
where doctrine is incorporated by the perpetrator as a rationalization, either deliberately or spon-
taneously (because the perpetrator is him or herself a victim of the mind control system).

The literature reveals that involvement with some type of allegiance to or worship of
Satan in rituals is being reported in clinical settings. This allegiance to Satan is thought to
be a means of justifying the activities performed (Van Benschoten, 1990). It is important,
however, to carefully distinguish between ritual abuse that is satanic in nature (Satanic Rit-
ual Abuse [SRA]) and ritual abuse that is not satanic in nature (StarDancer, 1993; Van Ben-
schoten, 1990).
StarDancer (1993, p.4) lists subtypes of extrafamilial and intrafamilial organizations
in which abusive practitioners are known to perform ritual abuse including sectarian (e.g.,
Satanic, Wiccan, Children of God, Dionysian), nonsectarian (e.g., organized crime,
neo-Nazi, Scientology, pyramid schemes, EST), culturistic (e.g., Aboriginal, Ku Klux Klan,
Santeria, Vodun), multiperpetrator idiosyncratic or charismatic (e.g., Jonestown), single-
perpetrator idiosyncratic (e.g., Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer, Leonard Lake), and pan-
theistic occult (loosely connected networks in which elite perpetrators use knowledge of
metaphysical systems in which archetypal figures represent aspects of Godhead or Primal
Powers and prey upon members' vulnerabilities).
214 FAITH A. ROBINSON

According to Van Benschoten (1990, p. 26), "The practice of deliberate abuse and ne-
glect by many totalist groups on religious, pseudo-religious, and other ideological grounds
has since been well documented." Systematic harm within cultic groups raises fears of "for-
mer members, law enforcement agencies, child welfare organizations, psychotherapists,
and the medical profession" (p. 26).
Ritual abuse survivors seeking therapeutic support are helping us gain understanding
of the modus operandi of cults. Neswald, Gould, and Graham-Costain (1991, p. 47) address
this in their discussion of the mind-control programming observed in SRA:
Concurrently, the etiological underpinnings and treatment demands of these special patients
are being unraveled and understood as never before. As a result, it is becoming increasingly clear
that perhaps the most demanding treatment aspects of such cases concern the problems posed by
what is known as "cult programming."
So called cult "programs" are really no more than conditioned stimulus-response se-
quences--consistent with basic learning theory. Such conditioning is achieved through a large va-
riety of sophisticated and sadistic mind control strategies involving the combined application of
physical pain, double-bind coercion, psychological terror, and split brain stimulation. All programs
!U"e stimulus-sensate triggered. Thus, programs may be enacted (triggered) via auditory, visual, tac-
tile, olfactory and/or gustatory modalities. Classical, operant, and observational/modeling para-
digms all are utilized by the cults and their "programmers."

This information on these two controversies associated with the diagnosis and treat-
ment of dissociative disorders is presented to emphasize the importance of professionals'
keeping an open and critical mind about all sides of these controversial issues. This is only
a sampling, however, and should not be considered inclusive of all points of view. My per-
sonal recommendation is to be well-read and open-minded, but to take a middle-of-the-road
position that considers all possibilities without endorsing any extremes.

PHENOMENOLOGICAL METHODOLOGY

Uniqueness of the Experience Being Studied and Associated Obstacles

The uniqueness of this topic and of this clinical population raised several considera-
tions to be addressed in the research design phase. Ethical concerns were initially discussed
with the research and human subjects review committee. Advice was sought from outside
professionals, an MPD cutter, and an expert on state and American Psychological Associa-
tion ethics.
A delicate balance was required between the goals of research and the goals of clini-
cal psychology in order to capture the essence of the self-cutting experience. Of foremost
consideration was a concern for subjects'personal safety and welfare. Mechanisms for en-
hancing subject safety were therefore incorporated in the research design. First, this study
was designed to study nonsuicidal cutting to avoid the dangers inherent in asking suicidal
clients about intense emotional experiences. Then, to minimize risks, only dissociative
clients who had been diagnosed by their therapists as having MPD and who had experi-
enced nonsuicidal cutting were sought as subjects in this study. These subjects were con-
sidered to be functioning at higher levels of stability and had well-developed therapeutic
support systems.
Referrals were solicited from licensed professionals (nine psychologists and two
MFCCs), who signed a referral form stating that they had a professional, therapist-client
DISSOCIATIVE WOMEN'S EXPERIENCES OF SELF-CUTTING 215

relationship with their MPD client who had engaged in nonsuicidal cutting. They felt that
the client was sufficiently stable to participate without potentially detrimental effects. Fur-
ther, these therapists were available for emergencies during data collection times and sched-
uled a therapy session with each client immediately after their research interviews.
Another important consideration was whether or not to attempt to identify different
"personalities" for each referred client in the interest of securing a protocol from each of
their subpersonalities. After considering the added complexity in the data collection
process, the difficulty (ifnot impossibility) of accessing all ofa subject's personalities, and
the potential interference caused in the subject's therapeutic integrative progress, a decision
was made to collect a single protocol from each subject without any attempt to address sub-
parts of the subject's personality system. It was decided that each subject would have com-
plete control over the type, amount, and source of data provided and that the researcher's
role would be as nonintrusive as possible.

Methodological Steps
I felt the topic of study was worthy of careful consideration and handling. I also was
sensitive to the painful data that would likely emerge from this study, and wanted the subjects
who participated to know that their participation was treated with the greatest respect and se-
riousness. I designed each research step carefully to maximize the validity of the results.

Self-Reflection
The initial step involved my own self-reflection to articulate presuppositions with re-
gard to self-cutting and dissociative subjects. This process of awareness, identification, and
articulation of my biases decreased the likelihood that my personal thoughts would later in-
terfere with my analysis of the subjects' data. I identified five general ideas that addressed
preexisting thoughts and feelings about the experience being studied. These ideas were that
self-cutting involved: (I) an internal state of absorption and disconnection from the outer
world, (2) a temporary state of release, (3) some experience of pleasure, (4) an addictive
process, and (5) the development of tolerance.

Subject Selection
Subjects were II females between 29 and 44 years of age who lived in diverse geo-
graphic areas. Five were married, three were single, and three were divorced. Two were high
school graduates, three had bachelor's degrees, two had master's degrees, and four had ad-
vanced degrees and/or trained specialties within the medical field. Five received financial
support from disability, one from her family, and five from self-employment.

Initial Data Collection

The initial data collection was highly structured and noninteractive. A subject was
handed written instructions that included the following paragraph:
Please recall an experience of self-cutting. Please describe how you felt during this experi-
ence. Describe your feelings just as they were so someone hearing or reading your report would
 216 FAITH A. ROBINSON

know exactly what the experience was like for you. Be sure to describe the experience itself and not
just the content of the situation. Please do not stop until you feel you have described your feelings
as completely as possible. Take as long as you would like to complete your response.

The initial data collection typically took 60-90 minutes to complete. Unique to this
study, sometimes different subpersonalities within the personality system presented data for
the same protocol, each from its own perspective. These different subpersonalities were dis-
cerned by handwriting styles, physical appearance changes, and/or content shifts.

Follow-up
Follow-up interviews consisted of a structured "walk-through" part and a nonstruc-
tured "dialogue" part. During the "walk-through," the initial description of the self-cutting
experience was read aloud phrase by phrase, each time allowing the subject an opportu-
nity to clarifY or enhance her original description. Discussion in this process was minimal
and highly structured in order to keep the data "pure" and unbiased. The original descrip-
tion plus the "walk-through" enhancements represented the "protocol" that would later be
analyzed.
From the onset of data collection, it became apparent that additional dialogue would
be needed to fully understand the subjects'descriptions of their self-cutting experiences.
Words and phrases were sometimes symbolic or cryptic. References to complex interac-
tions within themselves and interactions between the subjects and persons or events in their
private lives made understanding the data a more challenging task than with a nonclinical
population.
During the dialogue phase, I asked unstructured and impromptu questions in order to
better comprehend unclear phrases or concepts. With this more personal dialogue, the sub-
jects'personal stories became "alive," allowing me to frame their descriptions in more ac-
curate contexts. While these latter data were not used directly in the phenomenological
analysis, they did provide an essential function by clarifYing the writers' intentions in us-
ing specific words and phrases.

Data Analysis
Because of the tremendous richness of the data, extra care was taken during the data
analysis stage to not "lose" any of the essence in the process of distillation as I moved from
the raw data successively down toward the essential constituents. Embedded in the process
was a painstaking carefulness to allow the process to unfold naturally and slowly. Because
of the intensity of my own particularly painful emotions, it was necessary to walk away
from the data after each step of the process to allow time and distance to reestablish my per-
sonal mental, emotional, and spiritual balance. I believe that this systematic distancing kept
my own biases at a minimum as the distillation process continued.

Reading the Protocols. Much time was saved by using a computer for storing, work-
ing with, and printing data. This provided benefits to the project because of the amount of
data involved. For example, organization and management of data were easier, specific
components could be located more easily, and working with table formats allowed me to fo-
cus more on the actual data without being distracted by a manual process.
DISSOCIATIVE WOMEN'S EXPERIENCES OF SELF-CUTTING 217

Each protocol was encountered initially through several readings of its contents. As
each protocol was collected, it was entered into a computer file. In follow-up interviews,
protocols were read aloud to their writers in the ''walk-through'' and "dialogue" phases. The
walk-through enhancements were added to the computer file by using brackets and bold
type in order to distinguish these words from the original data. The dialogue questions and
answers were kept separate from the protocols. After all protocols had been collected, they
were privately read aloud in a single sitting to capture a sense of the "wholeness" of the col-
lective experiences.

Discriminating Meaning Units. The first step of phenomenological analysis was to

discriminate "meaning units." Each protocol was slowly read to discern natural breaks in
psychological meaning pertinent to the experience as a whole. According to Giorgi (1985),
meaning units do not exist as such, but are instead perceived transitions relative to the psy-
chological sensitivity of the researcher; hence, it is important to recognize that these "mean-
ing units exist only in relation to the attitude and set of the researcher (p. 15)." This being
the case, the final interview's dialogue process between researcher and subject was invalu-
able in aligning the "attitude and set" of the researcher with that of the subject as she de-
scribed her self-cutting experience.

Discovering the Psychological Relevance. Next, redundancies and irrelevancies

(ideas unrelated to the experience of self-cutting) were removed. The remaining meaning
units were printed and cut into individual slips of paper to facilitate rearrangement by "re-
latedness."
Still working with individual protocols, related meaning units were grouped to find
similar items, such as pain and lack of pain, physiological sensations, and any reference to
a quality associated with blood. The process at this point involved Colaizzi's (1978, p. 59)
"precarious leap," whereby the researcher moves from the subject's words 'to his or her own
words, thereby transporting the researcher from an experience-specific to a psychological
context.
At this point, the data exhibited great complexity. In addition to emerging themes, in-
terconnections between themes were becoming apparent. Their appearance necessitated oc-
casional shifts of data from one identified emerging theme to another. When the refinement
of emerging themes was completed for each of the II protocols, the psychologically rele-
vant themes were printed and cut into slips of individual themes. A different color was used
for each protocol as a means of identifying the source protocol for any given theme.
At this point, there began a new phase in which analytical processes combined with in-
tuitive, feeling processes to intuitively sort these several hundred colored pieces of paper
into categories of similar meanings. This process led to the identification of 58 common
themes referred to as "constituents."
It was sometimes difficult to determine which of two constituents was more promi-
nently identified within a theme. For example, the interconnections in "Cutter feels pain
subside as she watches blood drip" relate both to the feeling of pain and to her experience
of seeing blood. In this particular case, the theme was placed with the constituent of "Pain"
and a notation was made under "Pain" for a secondary reference to "Blood." This process
identified a high number of constituents and complexity of interconnections. The meaning
units could easily have become lost in the volume and complexity of the data. Also, the
218 FAITH A. ROBINSON

relatedness between constituents seemed "essential to the comprehension of the common

elements of the experience for the co-researchers as a group" (Robinson, 1994, p. 51).
To establish a focal point in this complexity and interconnected data, a weighting
technique was developed to measure the number of references made to each constituent,
the number of cross-references between a constituent and other constituents, and the num-
ber of subjects who referenced each constituent. Ultimately, a factored Table of Con-
stituents, Items & Subjects, and Cross-References was created to list each constituent in
its respective order of relative importance. Readers interested in specific details of this
analysis or in the actual table are referred to page 49 of my original dissertation manu-
script (Robinson, 1994).
At this point, the quantification and analysis process required a deliberate effort from
me as researcher to move once again into the qualitative nature of the data. Reprocessing
the initial 58 constituents brought further reduction to 32 constituents that could not be re-
duced any further.

Oescriptive Statements. In organizing the 32 constituents for the final descriptive

statements, several elements were considered: the data collection interviews, the constituents
as seen through the eyes of the subjects, the factored table, and whether the constituents re-
lated meaningfully to the beginning, middle, or end of the self-cutting experience. These
were composed into an all-inclusive detailed general essential structure.
Then, each of the 11 protocols was encapsulated into a one-page, context-specific
summary that captures the personal story of the particular woman (situated essential struc-
tures). The stage was now set for the final synthesis: reducing the individual, personalized
data and the psychologically relevant data to a one-page composite. This final summary
(general essential structure) defines the "essence" of the self-cutting experience.

PHENOMENOLOGICAL RESULTS

Essential Attributes of Self-Cutting (General Essential Structure)

Table 1 lists the final 32 essential constituents of the act of self-cutting in the disso-
ciative popUlation. Not all of these constituents pertain to every case, but the 32 in sum are
representative of the composite constituents of the independent experiences of 11 women.

General Essential Structure

The general essential structure describes my best view of the experience of cutting af-
ter this exhaustive handling of the data collected (Robinson, 1994, p. 86):
Emotional states prior to cutting include feelings of being trapped, inner emotional chaos and
noise, intolerable emotional pain, intense anger, and feelings of separation from significant others.
Cutters are wanting a release of tension, a relief from their enduring pain, and a quieting of the chaos
and noise. They reach a place where it feels as if they will explode or die or where they are feeling
out of control and desperate. It feels as if physical pain could take away their emotional pain.
Alters emerge who seem responsible for the cutting. The actual cutting takes on a compulsive,
habit-like, automated process. The cutter mayor may not have knowledge of plans to cut beforehand.
Cutters shift into an altered mental state. They find a pleasUtable place where they are feeling
in total control of their life. Their pain subsides. As the intensity climbs, they discover relief and
DISSOCIATIVE WOMEN'S EXPERIENCES OF SELF-CUTTING 219

Table 1. Final 32 Constituents

Altered states of consciousness Postcutting emotional states
Blood Precutting emotions
Compulsive quality Preplanning
Control Protective quality
Cutters' attitudes toward having emotions Punishment
Death/suicide Relationship with one's therapist
Desire to have "it" stop Relationships with others
Fear Release function of cutting
Feelings during cutting Scars
Feelings toward cutting Self-image
Getting enough Sexuality
Inner quiet Spiritual connection/love
Loss Stopping cutting
Memories of trauma and rituals Temporary relief
Pain Triggers
Pleasure Who does the cutting?

inner quiet, peace, comfort, nurturing, love, and feelings of safety. This mental state is a highly-
pleasurable aspect of cutting, one that they wish to prolong.
The sight and feel of flowing blood has much symbolism for cutters. It represents life, the pos-
sibility of death, release of ''things trapped" in the body, and survival.
Child alters find means of expression through cutting since they are afraid to communicate for
fear of punishment. Visible scars become a sign to the outer world of their pain, fear, and needs.
Cutters experience much fear and shame after cutting. Their good feelings and relief are al-
ways temporary. They feel sad knowing cutting brings their greatest comfort and meets their love
and nurturing needs. .
Many cutters have been ritually abused. Ritually-abused cutters are often programmed to
not experience feelings. It is likely they have punishing alters who punish them for feeling, dis-
closing secrets, experiencing pleasure, and remembering abusive incidents. These cutters may
experience a protective quality in cutting that keeps their punishers away. It is also likely that rit-
ual-abuse survivors have been programmed to equate blood, pain and violence with sexual urges
and satisfaction.

Complexity of the Experience-Complexity of the Results

The results of this research reflect the complexity of the individuals and experiences be-
ing studied. From the original stories of these 11 women, to the initial 58 constituents, and
then to the final 32 constituents, one can see that self-cutting is not a simple behavior to un-
derstand. The complexity of the research data is found not only in the quantity of significant
elements but also in the intricacies of cross-weavings of connections between the elements.
The complexity of the personal histories of these women opened my eyes to the po-
tential of human beings to act in cruel ways toward other human beings, even their own
family members. The complex, systematized manners of abuse in some cases were shock-
ing. Even more complex were the intricate, survival-seeking mechanisms within the psy-
ches of the abuse survivors.

Ritual Abuse: An Unexpected Discovery. In the developmental phase of the re-

search, a consultant who had a practice including many dissociative patients expressed his
 220 FAITH A. ROBINSON

interest in comparing patients who had been ritually abused to those who had not been rit-
ually abused. I explained my intentions to have a "simple" study, since this was my first re-
search project. Truthfully, since this was my first encounter with the notion of "ritual
abuse," my inclination was to run quickly and far. Fully unaware, I was headed toward ex-
actly this kind of discovery. (I was at a conference when I was introduced to the woman who
became the study's first subject. Her first words were, "I'm a 13th-generation SRA sur-
vivor. Do you still want me in your study?" I asked her if there was any potential danger to
either herself or me if she were to participate. She answered, "No." This was the beginning
of a remarkable journey of discovery.)
As the protocols were being collected, what started to emerge was a qualitative differ-
ence among some of the protocols. This sense of difference emerged particularly as the pro-
tocols were being entered into the computer or read aloud. The qualitative difference that I
was sensing had something to do with "complexity" and "depth" of meaning. After all the
protocols were received and I began the phenomenological process, it struck me that the
protocols written by the seven women who reported some type of ritual abuse all appeared
more complex in many different ways, including literary style, phrasing, hidden meanings,
symbolism, length, and switching between alters.
After the descriptive statements had been written, I went back to the colored slips of
paper from which I could identify the protocol behind each element. I created a table of el-
ements referenced by each of the protocols. The results were interesting, to say the least. Of
the original 58 constituents, 31 % were not referenced by those women who had not been
ritually abused.
From these results, we can see a significant difference between the act of self-cutting
of a ritually abused survivor and that of a non-ritually abused survivor. The difference is ap-
parent in the complexity of their personal experience, the complexity of their memory stor-
age processing, externally reinforced distortions of the concept of good versus bad, the
complexity of their internal coping mechanisms, the depth of fear structures, and their de-
gree of development of masking emotions.

Clinical Significance of This Phenomenological Inquiry

This is a new finding in the field of psychology. It imposes on clinicians a new re-
sponsibility to be aware of and sensitive to a fine distinction in historical abuse back-
grounds, and to recognize differences in treatment approaches and treatment outcomes for
these different groups.

A Rare Glimpse into Private Experience. There is no doubt that this study offers a
very privileged view into a private and secretive phenomenon. Self-cutting is an incredibly
private experience surrounded by much pain, guilt, shame, embarrassment, secrecy, dis-
trust, fear, and self-hate.
Looking back, it is somewhat miraculous that this research could be done at all. With-
out a doubt, many obstacles were overcome in the process, as moments of trust and faith
were required in order to establish the necessary contacts and rapport needed every step of
the way. First, the "human subjects review committee" had to be persuaded that this study
held merit and could be done safely. The success of this research required vision and energy
DISSOCIATIVE WOMEN'S EXPERIENCES OF SELF-CUTTING 221

from the research committee and the 11 referring, supportive therapists. It also required
great courage from the 11 women who shared one of their most intimate, embarrassing, and
private experiences. Trust had to be earned from these women who were not accustomed to
trusting.
I was deeply moved by their personal commitment. These women were at risk of pun-
ishment if the perpetrators of their abuse were to discover their disclosures. Some had to
protect themselves from their own internal perpetrators. I wondered why they would want
to endure such pain, reopen their emotional wounds, and place themselves at risk. One
woman wrote, "I'm willing to do this so others won't have to hurt as much." Another said,
"Knowledge is power."

Understanding and Empathy. In doing this research, I never intended to answer the
question, "Why do people cut themselves?" My purpose was to describe the experience so
all of us might begin to understand its dynamics and essence. The women who shared their
experiences wanted to be heard and understood, not only for themselves but also for others
who hide their experiences in secrecy and shame. The general essential structure provides a
context within which to frame such experiences.
Additionally, the hundred-plus pages of interviews provide a rich source of back-
ground material to help clinicians gain understanding and insight into 11 personal histo-
ries leading to self-cutting experiences. Readers who are willing to undertake a reading of
the dialogue data can draw their own conclusions regarding answers to many questions
(e.g., "Why do people cut themselves?").
I will never be able to fully understand the life histories of the women in this study. As
I read and reread their stories, I personally glimpsed more and more of what they had ex-
perienced. It is my belief that only in understanding an experience are we able to truly em-
pathize with the experiencer.

Clinical Approaches. More and more clients are coming forward with symptoms
common to the dissociative disorders that need to be evaluated and diagnosed. Clinicians
working with such clients have a responsibility to keep themselves up to date on dissociative
disorders by attending conferences, following the rapidly increasing amount of literature,
and establishing peer contacts with professionals who have experience with dissociative dis-
orders and self-cutting. Dissociative cutters, because of their abuse histories, are naturally
suspicious and very perceptive of and sensitive to other people. They want their therapist to
ask questions and understand, but become resentful of having to "teach" the helping profes-
sions, in general, about aspects of dissociation, abuse, and cutting behavior.
This brings us to some important questions. For example, can therapists properly di-
agnose and treat the cases they encounter? The possibility still exists that many persons di-
agnosed as Borderline Personality Disorder are undiagnosed dissociative disorder cases.
This is a delicate matter, since therapists need to exercise caution not to overdiagnose dis-
sociative disorders. When one considers the intricacies of clinical attitudes toward both
these diagnostic categories (borderline versus dissociative), then one must further wonder
what kinds of treatment are being rendered and whether the applied treatment in each case
is appropriate. Treatment methods should be in harmony with recommended approaches es-
tablished by today's experts in the field.
222 FAITH A. ROBINSON

One of the major discoveries in this research is the importance of the therapeutic re-
lationship. The cutting behavior further fragments the world of dissociative clients, as it
isolates them from those who cannot see their pain or understand their needs. In most
cases, therapists were the only external source of support mentioned by the participants in
this study. In most cases, the emotions after cutting included apprehension and fear of
what the therapist would say and do.
Another question that arises is whether the therapist's personal discomfort with self-
cutting behaviors interferes with his or her ability to discuss these issues with the client.
Discussing the cutting incident with their therapist seemed to be an important part of the
process for the 11 women in this study. It brought empathy, nurturing, insight, and closure
to an intense, painful incident. Writing about and discussing the self-cutting experience, in
general, appeared to have some measurable healing effects. In fact, four of the 11 partici-
pants have reported that the intense healing benefits received from participation in this re-
search have extinguished their need for further self-cutting incidents.
Inquiring about what personal meaning the cutting experience holds for a client offers
great potential benefit. Euphoric states of a spiritual quality, for example, might be a link in
cases of serious injury. A client might cut to reexperience this pleasure and not want to
withdraw, unconsciously or consciously, thus prolonging the bleeding or deepening the cut-
ting to intensify the pleasure. The most difficult decision a therapist faces is determining
the client's need for medical care subsequent to cutting. The women in this study indicated
that they wanted their therapist to "trust" them to know when their cuts needed medical at-
tention. The therapist faces immense liability and responsibility concerns, on one hand, and
risks losing the bonds of the therapeutic alliance, on the other.
A third question is whether therapists have an understanding of related controversial
issues. We have evidence from victims' reports corroborated by law enforcement files and
photos, for example, that ritual abuse occurs. There is an extensive psychological literature
on recent research in this area. In the dialogues of the 11 women who participated in this
particular study, seven described experiences of ritual abuse. The complexity of the internal
psychological structures of those who report histories of ritual abuse requires specialized
understanding and skill in treatment.
A final area of concern involves scope of practice and limitations. Are therapists able
to recognize their own limitations, are they willing to refer cases that are beyond the scope
of their practice, and do they know how to find such referral sources? In a conference pre-
sentation on Trauma, Beliefs, and Recovery, Connors (1993) stated:
Patients reporting a history of ritual abuse describe countless profoundly abusive experiences.
Looking beyond the sensationalism and horror of their memories, experienced clinicians recognize
the underlying dynamics of extensive and sophisticated mind control. The outcome of alleged mind
control experiences is the creation of patients with pervasive cognitive distortions that impact their
beliefs, self-image, and world view. Further, these distortions are profoundly resistant to change.

This is consistent with clinical studies on memory distortion that report how the details of
memories of traumatic events are often imprecise (Loftus, 1993). Clinical accounts of mind
control and programming tactics tell us that trickery, illusions, and drugs are often em-
ployed to alterpersons'perceptions (Connors, 1993; Young, 1993; Young, Sachs, Braun, &
Watkins, 1990). These findings highlight the importance and validity of a victim's emo-
tional experience and the need for therapeutic support.
DISSOCIATIVE WOMEN'S EXPERIENCES OF SELF-CUTTING 223

PERSONAL GROWTH FROM PHENOMENOLOGICAL INQUIRY

I started out designing this research project because I had met a woman who had re-
cently cut herself and who wanted to talk about her experience with me. I was surprised at
the intensity of my emotional response to her behavior. My extreme emotional reaction and
her subsequent communicative "shutdown" are what prompted this research.
Self-cutting was an "unknown" to me. In searching for understanding of this one un-
known, I encountered another, the concept of ritual abuse, that was both disarming and
powerful. It was also an "unknown" for me, but one of imagined greater power. I made an
initial conscious decision to categorize it as irrelevant and to avoid it. At first, I was fearless
because I was naive. I had no clue as to the extent of facts I had yet to encounter. As the
process of the research unfolded, elements of ritual abuse appeared from beginning to end.
I could no longer ignore it. That which we do not understand frightens us. Somewhere in
this process, I realized that my fears held the power to keep me in ignorance and that they
also held the key to expanded awareness. I remembered the words of one of the women in
this study, "Knowledge is power."
I have spoken about the courage of the 11 women in this study, but have not mentioned
my own process in this regard. As my awareness grew, I must confess there were moments
when I had to face my own fears and disbeliefs. It was the courage and conviction of these
11 women that helped me through this incredible journey. In horror and shock, I focused on
understanding the data I was analyzing. The elements of ritual abuse were the hardest to
face. It is easy to deny, ignore, walk away from the uncomfortable. I learned that it takes
courage to work through emotional discomfort as we encounter painful possibilities.
I would expect few people to immerse themselves in these areas to the extent required
for this research. But for those who are willing to encounter their own fears, the data are
available if they want to reach further. The people who have read these accounts say they
will never again be the same because, through reading, they have been transformed by feel-
ing the subjects' experiences of pain. As a researcher, I lived with these experiences for al-
most a year, facing the pain over and over again as I worked with the subjects and their data.
I will never be able to return to the state of naivete that I held prior to this research.
All of us can resort to denial to protect ourselves from the uncomfortable. Therapists
are vulnerable to their own "self-protective incredulity" of the "extraordinarily sadistic and
prolonged experiences of satanic ritual abuse" (Van Benschoten, 1990). Van Benschoten
(1990, p. 25) cautions against taking an extremist position in either direction: "Denial pro-
tects us from the intolerable realization of man's capacity for brutality. Over determination
protects us from becoming complacent. ... To realize the danger in not taking patients'
accounts of satanic abuse seriously, one only has to consider instances in which reports of
atrocities were initially denied and later found to be true."

CONCLUSION

Dissociative Identity Disorder (formerly Multiple Personality Disorder) is still viewed

by many health care professionals as a mysterious, rare disorder despite large amounts
of literature documenting its prevalence. Self-mutilative behavior is also viewed as a rare,
 224 FAITH A. ROBINSON

mysterious behavior, partly because of the degree of secrecy and shame surrounding its oc-
currences and the scarcity of public information. This research illuminates dissociative dis-
orders and self-cutting behaviors. It also highlights the varying degrees of complexity
within the scope of both phenomena relative to the intensity of imagined or real childhood
abuses. In light of these discoveries, the results of this research may expand our awareness
of the realities depicted within current psychological literature and research, and deepen our
personal and professional acceptance of these psychological phenomena.

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Bach-y-Rita, G. (1974). Habitual violence and self-mutilation. American Journal of Psychiatry, 131(9), 1018-
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 10

Psychology of Forgiveness
Impl ications for Psychotherapy
Jan O. Rowe and Steen Halling

We live in a world fraught with hostility and alienation at both interpersonal and societal
levels. The media barrage us with reports of ethnic wars growing out of centuries of hatred
and distrust, political terrorism, random violence in the streets, domestic violence, child
abuse of various sorts-the list seems endless. Clearly, there is a tremendous amount of
hurt in our lives-both personal and cultural. What is the impact of injury on our lives?
How can we heal from it?
These were questions we and our fellow researchers had over a decade ago when we
embarked on the study of forgiveness. Partly because of the complexity of the phenomenon,
we decided to focus on forgiveness in everyday life as opposed to more dramatic social or
political contexts. Even so, forgiveness turned out to be a challenging topic to research. For
example, while people were willing to share their experience of forgiveness on deep and
personal levels, their doing so often involved a great deal of emotional pain.
On another level, conducting this research was not only a difficult but also a ground-
breaking enterprise, because in Western culture forgiveness is a word with religious con-
notations, and many people are uncomfortable with it as a topic of dialogue. Moreover,
forgiveness is spoken of more often as an abstract ideal than as central to one's experience.
We have come to wonder whether this confusion concerning the experience of forgiveness
may not be an expression of specific contemporary cultural values that run counter to the
attitudes necessary for forgiveness: openness to oneself and others, to the metaphorical or
mysterious in living, and to mercy. Instead, justice has become synonymous with punish-
ment, mercy with weakness, strength with power over others. Given this situation, it is no

Jan O. Rowe and Steen Halling • Department of Psychology, Seattle University, Seattle, Washington 98122.

227
 228 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

wonder that people are flocking to various mental health practitioners with chronic guilt,
shame, resentment, dis-ease, and feelings of estrangement.
While the cultural attitude toward forgiveness may make forgiveness a topic that is un-
comfortable and unfamiliar for many people, through our research we have come to see
how powerful it is when it does occur. In terms of their actual experience, people consis-
tently reported a sense of liberation, reconnection, and hope about the future. Given such
benefits, the question becomes: How can we facilitate the movement toward forgiveness?
This question, we believe, is particularly important for those who work with those in psy-
chic pain, in particular, psychotherapists.
This chapter gives a brief overview of the literature, describes the qualitative method
we employed in the research, and outlines two dimensions of the phenomenon-forgiving
another and forgiving oneself. Finally, we will address the implications of our research for
the practice of psychotherapy and sitting with people who have deep-seated hurt.

REVIEW OF SELECTED PSYCHOLOGICAL LITERATURE

Until recently, it appeared that psychology had treated the topic of forgiveness with be-
nign neglect (Halling, 1979). In the last decade or so, however, there has been an increased
interest in forgiveness as evidenced by a beginning tradition of empirical research, a num-
ber of doctoral dissertations, and a burgeoning literature that presents strategies for facili-
tating forgiveness in psychotherapy clients.
The neglect of forgiveness in psychology can be attributed in part to some of the so-
cial and cultural factors that we have suggested are responsible for its marginalization
within our society generally. In addition, as a discipline that is highly self-conscious about
its scientific status, psychology has traditionally shied away from phenomena that are
closely related to theology and religion. Further, psychology, insofar as it has been concep-
tualized as a natural science, has placed priority on its method, that is, the experimental
method. It has then avoided topics that cannot be easily studied by this method (Giorgi,
1970), and a topic as profound but resistant to simple definition and direct observation as
forgiveness clearly falls within this category.
In the discussion that follows, we focus primarily on psychological literature that is
empirical in focus, that is, based on interviews, observations, or work with patients. We
want to provide an overall portrait of the way forgiveness is being studied on the basis of a
review of selected literature and on that basis demonstrate that there is a need for phenom-
enological investigations of forgiveness. Our basic point is that despite the increased atten-
tion given to this topic, there are still very few systematic studies of the actual experience
of forgiveness.
Since the time of Freud, the case study has been an important vehicle for advancing
psychological understanding. Hunter (1978), who writes from a psychodynamic perspec-
tive, considers paranoid reactions and forgiveness as two dramatically different responses
to psychological injury. Going beyond the specifics of the case he presents, he speculates
about how developmental factors are related to the capacity for forgiveness and describes
stages that patients go through insofar as they move from blame and anger toward forgive-
ness in therapy. Martyn (1977) attempts to integrate psychoanalytical concepts regarding
personality structure with theological concepts about forgiveness by considering the situa-
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 229

tion of an abused child who is in play therapy. However, given the lack of a more compre-
hensive framework from which to reflect on these two specialized approaches with their
distinct assumptions and technical terms, this integration is not readily accomplished. On
the other hand, Close (1970) describes in everyday language the movement toward forgive-
ness of a young woman who had been sexually abused. In this context, he contends that a
movement beyond blame and recrimination requires that the injured person look at his or
her own responsibility.
There is no question that the case study method contributes to our knowledge of issues
such as forgiveness. Yet case studies are limited in that they often use the situation of a par-
ticular client primarily for illustrating a certain preconceived theory. Further, the struggle
with forgiveness in therapy may take a different form and direction than in everyday life.
For example, in therapy, obstacles to forgiveness may be resolved due to the systematic in-
tervention of an attentive and empathetic professional.
Insofar as clinicians have come to believe that forgiveness can heal hurts and over-
come resentment, it is to be expected that some, at least, will attempt to develop specific
techniques or procedures to facilitate the movement toward forgiveness. One of the earliest
clinicians to do so was Fitzgibbons (1986), who regards forgiveness as a way to overcome
anger and rage, especially in adolescent males. On the basis of his clinical interventions,
Fitzgibbons distinguishes three kinds of forgiveness: cognitive, emotional, and spiritual. He
takes clients through a number of specific steps, such as analyzing the origin of the pain or
hurt, reenacting the painful situation, and persuading them to make a deliberate cognitive
decision to forgive. It is not clear from Fitzgibbons's article, however, what the theoretical
and empirical basis is for either the interventions or the conception of forgiveness that he
proposes.
Worthington and DiBlasio (1990) have written guidelines for helping couples with
troubled relationships move toward granting and seeking forgiveness. They discuss at
length the preparation for what they call the "forgiveness session" (e.g., they tell clients not
to expect too much and encourage them to focus on how they have hurt the other rather than
on how the other has hurt them) and provide criteria far evaluating whether clients have the
capacity for such a session. They clearly do not follow procedures mechanically; instead,
they offer a basic approach that requires clinical judgment in its implementation.
A variety of studies on promoting forgiveness have been developed at the University
of Wisconsin under the leadership of Robert Enright. In a theoretical article, Enright,
Gassin, and Wu (1992) examine a variety of writings on forgiveness-religious, philo-
sophical, and psychological-and formulate developmentally based (especially drawing
upon Kohlberg) psychological models of how people think about and go about forgiving
others. A number of related studies have been carried out to test specific interventions to fa-
cilitate forgiveness with various populations such as incest survivors (Freedman & Enright,
1995) and adolescents (Enright, Santos, & Al-Mabuk, 1989).
Attempts have been made to study the issue of forgiveness using traditional research
methodology. For example, there are two relatively early experimental studies (Gahagan &
Tedeschi, 1968; Tedeschi, Hiester, & Gahagan, 1969). Both investigations involve a pris-
oner's dilemma game situation. Within this experimental context, forgiveness is opera-
tionally defined as the giving of a cooperative response by a subject after his or her
opponent has made a competitive response to a prior cooperative response. Although
a simple change in behavior, along this line, may be associated with forgiveness, this
 230 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

phenomenon cannot reasonably be defined so narrowly because the process entails a

fundamental shift in attitude. Such a shift can by no means be fully explicated from an
observer stance, because neither the inner meaning of the act of forgiveness nor the sig-
nificance of the process is directly "visible."
More recently, McCullough and Worthington (1994), also working from within a nat-
ural science psychological perspective, have evaluated claims that clinicians have made for
the positive consequences of forgiveness. These consequences allegedly include better re-
lationships, diminishment of resentment and anger, and improved physical and mental
health. McCullough and Worthington (1994) argue that the studies they reviewed lack con-
trol groups, fail to specify the treatments involved, do not use standardized measures, and
so on, and they conclude, "there is not enough data to conclude that forgiving has any clear
physical or psychological benefits" (p. 5). It may well be that some clinicians not only fail
to substantiate their claims but also have come to see forgiveness as a general solution to
many of life's problems. Patton (1985), who writes from a pastoral counseling perspective,
has raised questions about the belief that "forgiveness is good for you and that you ought
to become forgiving as soon as possible" (p. 124).
But the McCullough and Worthington review raises a more fundamental question:
How does one understand the nature of forgiveness? Our concern is that many of their own
assumptions about forgiveness are unexamined and erroneous. For example, they refer to
forgiveness as "a religious behavior" (McCullough & Worthington, 1994, p. 4), as some-
thing that a person grants; they also refer to it as a "promising therapeutic tool" (p. 4), and
assume that counselors, especially those who identify themselves as Christian, ought to en-
courage clients who have been hurt to forgive their offender. In other words, they have as-
sumed, without any examination of the actual experience of forgiveness, that it is a
"variable" with effects that can readily be measured and that it is facilitated by specific
kinds of interventions, especially persuasion. In this context, the French philosopher
Gabriel Marcel's (1991) warning against humanity's excessive reliance on technique and
calculation-and with it our disregard of anything that does not depend on us or is not un-
der our control-seems to be very much to the point.
So far, we have commented on the lack of a systematic experiential basis for much of
the theorizing about forgiveness and the development of interventions to bring it about.
There are, however, a few studies (in addition to our own) that look at descriptions of the
movement toward forgiveness on a descriptive basis. Rooney (1989) has done a phenome-
nological study of how five patients came to find forgiveness through their participation in
intensive individual psychotherapy (this was not psychotherapy designed explicitly to fos-
ter forgiveness). This study is distinctive in that it is the point of view of the person who for-
gives, not that of the psychotherapist, that is being considered. For these patients, what was
especially important in psychotherapy was "a confessional exchange between patient and
therapist, in which the patient experiences a continuation of acceptance by the therapist in
the context of the mutual recognition of the patient's wrongdoing" (Rooney, 1989, p. ii).
The outcome of forgiveness included a restoration of the belief that one was worthy of be-
longing, a sense of physical and emotional cleansing, and a more compassionate stance to-
ward both one's own wrongdoings and those of others.
Flanigan (1992) has carried out a much larger-scale study based on interviews with 70
people who had forgiven "the unforgivable." These people were recruited through newspa-
per advertisements. For Flanigan, "unforgivable" injuries are those that were inflicted by
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 231

persons close to the individual (e.g., a parent or spouse), that involved a betrayal, and that
were deeply wounding and destructive of a person's sense of morality.
We can only agree with Flanigan that persons who have forgiven such injuries have
much to teach the rest of us. However, her book is written in the form of a step-by-step man-
ual for persons seeking to forgive, and thus one does not get a complete sense of the subjects'
experience. In addition, Flanigan interprets the stories from a cognitive and social psycho-
logical perspective, which, in our view, does not do justice to the richness of people's lives.

THE DlALOGAL METHOD

As we have already indicated, this chapter is based on two studies, one on "forgiving
another" (Rowe et aI., 1989) and another on "self-forgiveness" (Bauer et aI., 1992). Here,
we want to give a brief overview of the method used in these studies. Along with other phe-
nomenological researchers (e.g., Giorgi, 1970), we believe that the method oUght to be ap-
propriate to the content that one studies and that one cannot adequately evaluate and
interpret research findings without an understanding of how these findings were arrived
at. One of the distinctive features of our investigations is that they led us to develop a new
research method even though that had not been our explicit intention.
Each of the studies was carried out by ourselves and four to six graduate students from
the master's program in psychology at Seattle University. In approaching the topic of for-
giving an other, we found that this phenomenon, which is fundamentally interpersonal,
could be studied most appropriately using a method characterized by open and ongoing
conversation. This conversation or dialogue took place on two levels: among the researchers
and between the researchers and the phenomenon; hence the name dialogal. The dialogal
method differs significantly from other phenomenological methods in its process, although
not in its aim. In contrast to most other studies, faithfulness to the data is fostered through
open dialogue among the researchers in relationship to the data rather than through adher-
ence to a set of explicitly spelled-out procedures.
On one hand, this approach to research developed spontaneously as we struggled as a
group to find an appropriate way to study forgiveness. On the other hand, we were also in-
fluenced, both theoretically and practically, by our prior reading of thinkers such as Buber
(e.g., 1958, 1965), Gadamer (1975), Jaspers (1970), Palmer (1983), Polka (1986), and
Strasser (1969), all of whom emphasize how understanding and interpretation arise out of
dialogue. Encouraged by the success of our first study (Rowe et al., 1989), we decided to
follow a similar approach when we studied self-forgiveness (Bauer et aI., 1992).
During the early stage of each of the studies, the researchers shared their initial im-
pressions and conceptions about the phenomenon in question, whether forgiving another
or forgiving self, and reviewed and summarized pertinent literature. They wrote personal
descriptions about their experience of the phenomenon, and discussed these descriptions,
allowing for the recognition of specific assumptions that additional descriptions might
bring into question. Then the structure of the research was discussed, tentative procedures
were mapped out, and the key research question was formulated. For the first study, this
question was:
Can you tell us about the time during an important relationship when something happened
such that forgiving the other became an issue?
 232 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

The question was deliberately phrased in such a way as to not only gather descriptions of
the completed process but also allow interviews with those in the midst of the process. Sim-
ilarly, for the second study, the question was:
Can you describe a time in your life when self-forgiveness became an issue?

Each member of the research groups posed the research question to a research con-
tributor (or subject), and after the first interview was transcribed, there was a second inter-
view to allow for clarification and further elaboration. Subsequently, each interviewer and
another researcher would write narrative summaries for each contributor. The analysis
phase of the research followed as the entire research group discussed individual interviews
and summaries and questioned the dyad that had written the summaries, in search of themes
that were specific to the particular description. Themes in individual accounts having been
identified, the next step was to compare narratives to identify common themes. Gradually,
a basic understanding of the phenomenon emerged.
Much of our understanding of the dialogal group process came from the work of
Michael Leifer, who was a member of both research groups and who audiotaped the group
discussions throughout the research process of the first study. On the basis of reflections on
these recordings, and on his reading of Gadamer (1975), Leifer (1986) characterized the
discussions as having three levels: preliminary, transitional, and fundamental. Generally
speaking, the movement from preliminary to fundamental dialogue is a movement from a
relatively abstract and disjointed discussion of a topic to a much more experientially
grounded conversation. At this level, the researchers become increasingly attentive to what
others are saying, and increasingly mindful of the phenomenon as something actually pres-
ent in the group through the narratives and transcripts as well as through the researchers' at-
tunement to its experiential reality in their own lives.
Space limitations prevent us from elaborating on the nature of the dialogal method, but
interested readers can consult Rowe et al. (1989), Halling and Leifer (1991), and Halling,
Kunz, and Rowe (1994) for more detailed discussions of the implementation and theoreti-
cal justification of this approach.

THE NATURE OF FORGIVING ANOTHER

As stated earlier, we recognized almost from the beginning of our work together that
forgiveness is a complex phenomenon with many dimensions. For the sake of manageabil-
ity, we limited our initial research to the study of forgiveness in an interpersonal context.
(Later, we undertook the investigation of "self-forgiveness"-a topic that proved to be
somewhat more elusive. This section gives an overview of "forgiving another," and the fol-
lowing section addresses "self-forgiveness.")
The descriptions we gathered, both from ourselves and from others, included ones that
described the completion of forgiveness as well as ones from people in the midst of the
process. In the following interpretation, based on these descriptions, we attempt to identify
the qualities and stages of the process of responding to harm and coping with injury. These
"stages" are far from sharply delineated or easily defined. By speaking of stages, we are ad-
dressing the seeming evidence and dominance of specific kinds of experiences at certain
points in the process.
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 233

From these descriptions, it was evident that the process begins when one perceives
oneself as harmed by another and comes to a resolution insofar as it ends in a psychologi-
cal, ifnot face-to-face, reconciliation with the one who was perceived as hurtful. There are
two basic levels to this process. First, forgiving another is most immediately experienced as
interpersonal; it occurs within the context of a relationship involving another who has
deeply affected one in a hurtful way. Second, and perhaps more profoundly, the experience
of forgiving another also has qualities that transcend one's relationship with that person and
opens one up to oneself and the world in new ways. It is more than a letting go-it is also a
new beginning. The specific nature of these qualities, which become apparent only toward
the end of the process, led us to describe the experience as being spiritual or transpersonal
as well as interpersonal. It is noteworthy that our research group did not start out with a "re-
ligious" or "spiritual" agenda.
The need for forgiveness arises when someone has acted in such a way as to funda-
mentally disrupt the wholeness and integrity of one's life. Initially, on a deep, almost or-
ganic level, there is a tearing of the fabric of one's life, one's world. The injury that
involves forgiving another is one that violates the person's sense of self. The unfolding of
one's life and identity is impeded or terminated. The future, as it was anticipated before the
event, is irrevocably changed; a particular future is experienced as lost altogether, de-
stroyed. A more general future, one beyond "injury," is simply not there for oneself as a
possibility, except insofar as particularly engaging activities or situations take one away,
momentarily, from the recollection of the hurtful event. When one does recollect, the hurt,
pain, and loss of future reemerge at the center of one's life. Thus, the injurious event and
relationship are somehow central or pivotal to the network of one's identity in such a way
that the disruption impinges upon one's "only world," one's "only meaningful identity as
perceived at that time."
In the face of the realization of the hurt, this disruption is profoundly felt. One feels
uprooted, "off center." In the words of one woman whose lover's infidelity was revealed to
her by a woman friend: "As [the friend] talked, my throat became dry and restricted. It was
suddenly extremely cold in my apartment and I began to shiver. I was stunned and unaware
of how to react." Relationships to the world and others at this point are characterized by dis-
tance and dis-ease, and most dramatically so with respect to the injuring person. The dis-
tance or sense of dis-ease remains in relation to that person even after connections with
friends and objects in the familiar world have been reestablished-when, for example, fa-
miliar streets no longer seem foreign and forbidding. However, the deeper levels of mean-
ing of the disruption to one's sense of self are typically not yet articulated (or conscious).
These levels will unfold later.
On a lived level, one experiences the injury as a blow inflicted by the other. There is
the conviction that the other's behavior was aimed at oneself, that one was the target of the
other's demeaning or intentionally unjust and damaging behavior. At the very least, one
believes the injury to have been avoidable had the other person been sensitive to and re-
spectful of oneself. One man said, "If she hadn't known how I felt about it, then it wouldn't
have made any difference." He believed that she acted in conscious disregard of what mat-
tered to him.
Oftentimes, an acknowledgment of responsibility, an apology from the other person, is
thought to be necessary for healing: The man quoted above said, "She could acknowledge
that her position is costly to me. She could apologize, not for her decision, but for how it
 234 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

affects me. That'd be nice. I would like that." Underlying the wish for an apology is often a
wish for the other to be different from the person as experienced. Many times, we seem to
believe that the situation can change only if the other does.
The ongoing experience of hurt entails a preoccupation with the injury. At the time,
one is likely to assume that the other's actions were the simple and sufficient reasons for the
hurt and disruption in one's life. Typically, it is only later that one starts to look at the deeper
implications of "the injury" in relationship to one's sense of self. The hurtful interaction is
remembered as the transition point between a comfortable and familiar sense of the world
and an existence that is disturbing and uprooted. The following is a particularly vivid de-
scription of this transition:
The next morning I felt a slow hideous obsession creeping into [me]. I felt it taking over my
life. I felt fear and then the fear turned into a cold terrifying anger.... I cried and screamed at the
injustice of it. ... It wasn't fair. Why? Why? Why? I asked myself ... what had I done to deserve
this? My questions remained unanswered, and I became angrier.

The initial hurt is often accompanied by anger; in other cases, anger becomes an issue
later. It is important, however, that anger and blame be allowed to be experienced. Genuine
forgiveness cannot take place if there is a disavowal of some vital aspect of one's own expe-
rience and of the relationship to the other person. In some cases, it may be especially hard for
a person to allow anger to emerge-if the other is someone one depends on, if one has a habit
of blaming oneself, if one believes that it is "bad" to be angry at someone one is close to.
Along with anger, there is frequently a desire for revenge or retribution. These fan-
tasies carry the promise of some sort of partial balancing of an injustice; they provide, how-
ever artificially, a "future" of sorts. Most important, they offer a future in which one is no
longer a victim, but the victimizer. The possibility of forgiving the other seems unlikely at
this point, and the anger may be perceived as extending indefinitely. One middle-aged man
seemed to be in this place: "My mother is a stubborn, bigoted, disappointing woman. I don't
see how I can forgive." This quote also provides a good example of the perspective that
views one's own reaction as simply a function of the other person behavior.
If the other person and the relationship are valued, and if one is troubled by one's own
obsession with the hurt, thoughts of revenge are likely to become interspersed with a wish
for reconciliation. Although thoughts of the other as blameworthy may still predominate, in-
creasingly there are moments of questioning oneself. So we may ask: Did I misconstrue the
intentions of the other? Did I do something to contribute to the problem? During this phase,
the enmeshment the hurt has brought about and the self-referential perspective begin to un-
ravel. One begins to catch glimpses of the other in terms apart from the immediate rela-
tionship. Preoccupation with the other's wrongdoing begins to be pierced by guesses at
explanations for his or her behavior that make it more "understandable" or "acceptable."
And there is a dawning awareness that one is somehow helping to keep alive the feelings
of discomfort in relation to the other person. Yet exactly how, and therefore how to cease do-
ing so, are not clear. One woman wondered:
I see the obstacle in front of me but I can't seem to move it: How do I forgive her without her
showing me she knows how much pain I've experienced? How do I forgive and not forget so I can
go on? How do I rid myself of the selfish demand that she acknowledge my pain?

Aside from concerns about restoring the relationship or the growing desire to feel
peaceful rather than haunted by what happened, one may also be moved by an inner oblig-
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 235

ation to forgive; additionally, there may be a sense of guilt about being angry with the other.
But one is unable to simply let go of the hurt and recriminations. At this time in the process,
some critical form of healing has not taken place, and there is a moving back and forth such
that one might speak of being caught between what seems like irreconcilable opposites:
holding on to hurt and anger that create distance and accepting the relationship as it is at
present by somehow letting go of the past.
Letting go, although consciously preferable or at least an "ought," does not as yet really
feel possible. There is a sense of clinging to the hurt and anger, which is to be distinguished
from earlier phases of more spontaneous hurt and anger. This clinging appears to have the
function, partly at least, of keeping oneself away from the other while staying engaged with
what might have been. As distancing implies, mistrust is often a pervasive theme. This phase
may be experienced as an impasse and one feels trapped. One man said, "I did not like the
anger and rage 1 felt, but 1 also did not know how to leave behind the hurt."
To achieve resolution, one may "try" to forgive, may even say one has, only to find the
old pain, anger, and confusion returning. One woman described such an attempt thus:
I wrote her ... that I (forgave) her, ... you see I know that not forgiving her would only de-
stroy myself.... By going through the motions I hoped to feel forgiveness. But I continue to hang
on. Perhaps it is because I feel forgiving her would mean I would have to forget what she did to me.
I don't want to forget because if! do, it may happen again.

There may also be some awareness that clinging to the hurt and anger may serve to
move one away from specific "inner" experiences such as grief. This grief may concern
both the loss of what was and/or could have been, and, on a deeper level, the loss of a par-
ticular way of viewing one's self and the world. The latter loss is the deeper metaphorical
level of meaning that is not yet entirely clear. One woman, after forgiving her father for
years of hurt, said: "[I] am left ... with a deep sadness for me, for my dad, for all of us who
keep ourselves separate out of hurt and fear" She went on to consider, "The avoidance of
this ... sadness may be one reason why [I] resisted forgiving."
During this time, there also may be moments when one feels freed from hanging onto
the injury. These times, however, are fleeting and cannot be willed. One man said:
My hurt and anger vanished as I thought about [her] .... I felt healed.... This experience was
deeply moving, but I would hesitate to call it dramatic. The next day ... I was back to my previous
state, and yet I knew that something was possible even though I had no idea how to get "back there."

The resolution, in the form of forgiveness, appears to come to us in an unexpected context,

often at an unexpected moment. And yet, as one is surprised by the resolution, it becomes
apparent that at some level it was sought, one was willing to forgive and open to this possi-
bility. It seems that this willingness is crucial for forgiveness to occur. Not imagining how
he might forgive his mother, one man said: "I don't see how 1 can forgive anything. Maybe
it's because I'm stubborn or maybe I've talked myself into not being able to back down."
Experientially, however, the moment of forgiveness appears to be the moment of
recognition that forgiveness has already occurred. Rather than being aware of changing,
one realizes that one has changed, one has forgiven the other. Forgiveness comes as a reve-
lation and is often viewed as a gift. One woman reported:
I proceeded to call him and apologize for the letter he was going to receive and in the same
breath I said I forgave him. When I said this I was taken by surprise. It had in a sense come out of
nowhere.
 236 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

It is important to note that there may be a series of revelations; that is, one may forgive a
number of aspects of a relationship independently, or all the injury may be forgiven at once.
Whether forgiveness is piecemeal or all at once may depend upon whether the injury was a
discrete event or a more complicated series of happenings, as well as upon the intensity and
significance of the hurt.
Previous thoughts about what conditions make it possible to forgive (e.g., if the other
were to apologize) turn out not to fit the reality as experienced. The focus has been on what
"the other should do" and less on what one needs to do in order to overcome the injury.
Even when apologies were forthcoming, they did not typically enable people to forgive;
likewise, people forgive even without acknowledgment on the part of the wrongdoers. In a
parallel vein, while the immediate experience of the hurt is very conscious, it seems doubt-
ful that there was clarity to the broader, deeper meaning of the injury. One seems long in
coming to a realization of what significance the wrongdoing had in terms of one's life as a
whole. As previously noted, the focus was on the wounding rather than on the underlying
meaning of the injury.
The critical dimension offorgiving is that one experiences a shift in one's understand-
ing of and relationship to the other person, one's self, and the world. The implications of the
original situation are cast in a new light: The hurt is no longer merely an injury that another
has inflicted, and that therefore acts as a barrier, but instead becomes appropriated as pain
shared with other human beings. In some sense, it is disengaged from the "injuring" person
or at least no longer solely referential to that person. One man described this awareness:
"[I now felt her] as another human being who was struggling and who basically did not
mean me any harm." There is an experience of reclaiming oneself, which at the same time
involves a shift into a larger perspective. No longer does one see oneself in a relationship of
victim and victimizer: One is freed from the status of being the object of another's actions
and so is able to return to oneself. No longer is there only one possible connection with the
other person. There are alternatives where before there were none, and this new vision re-
instates choice into one's life. A sense of responsibility for one's life and relationships is
recovered. After forgiving her father, one woman said:
My life immediately began to change. After spending almost six years in a profession which I
did not enjoy, but had entered to gain my father's approval, I decided to return to school to study
what I loved. By opening my mind to forgiveness, I was able to open my heart, and the transfor-
mation affected my life.

After forgiving a family member for sexual abuse, one person stated, "For the first time in
my life I feel free." Another person said: "I realize that forgiveness has set me free. Free to
continue my life, free to exist without pain and anger, and free to love again." The vision of
newness is so compelling, so like a gift of grace, one will not choose other than to move
gratefully into it. The future-an immediate sense of being on the verge of new begin-
nings-is again available where before it was not; the past, while neither forgotten nor ra-
tionalized away, is no longer a haunting, heavy, and troubling issue.
At the level of lived experience, there is a release of tension, yet this release is one in
which one's active participation is acknowledged on some level, although perhaps most
clearly in retrospect; thus, people frequently speak of being able to "let go" of anger, hurt,
and recriminations. One experiences a restoration of a sense of wholeness and of inner di-
rection and an opening up to perceiving how other people and situations are in their own
right, as distinct and separate from one's own needs and desires: "I stopped trying to
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 237

pigeonhole her into a ready-made mold." One has an attitude of openness to the other; as
one person said: "I feel more relaxed and can look her in the eye, where before I couldn't."
On a reflective level, one sees the other as having acted in a way human beings do, out of
his or her own needs and perceptions; there may even be the recognition that what he or she
did is something one has done or could well do: "Forgiving came with acknowledging that
we aren't perfect." One understands the other person, and oneself, in a new and fuller way.
The experience of forgiveness is one of radically opening to the world and others, as
well as to the person who hurt oneself. There is a sense of arriving home after a long jour-
ney and the world is welcoming, so well remembered and yet transformed. One woman
wrote: "I knew at last that home was where I was. The past was no longer menacing ... the
future was no longer foreboding .... [I] was no longer adrift in a sea of chaos but at the
helm in a world that welcomed me. I wept for joy." Others emerge as persons separate from
oneself, and yet one's connection with them is more tangible than before. There is a clarity
about one's relationship to self and others. There is a sense of relatedness and freedom that
did not exist before.
It is because of the transforming nature of forgiveness, coupled with the experience
that this transformation involves more than one's own will, that we are suggesting there is
a spiritual dimension to forgiveness. More specifically, as we have already indicated, for-
giveness comes as a gift or a "revelation," and it involves coming to a deeper sense of con-
nection to oneself, to others, and, in some cases, to something beyond oneself. There is a
movement of transcendence, that is, an unanticipated and yet welcomed opening up to the
new and an experience of being freed from burdens and restrictions. These aspects were
also evident, as we shall see, in the experience of "self-forgiveness."

THE NATURE OF "SELF-FORGIVENESS,,1

During our study of forgiving another, we began realizing that this phenomenon is in-
timately related to forgiving oneself. We suspected that they might be two sides of the same
coin, so we decided to turn our focus to forgiving oneself.
From the descriptions we have collected, we have come to understand that self-
forgiveness becomes an issue, although not necessarily articulated, as a result of an event,
such as divorce or suicide of a loved one, that leaves one acutely aware of being estranged
from self and others. Generally, this awareness is accompanied by a judgment that one is fun-
damentally a bad person. This experience is so intense it pervades one's existence, and the
embodied belief is that nothing will ever change; the future seems dark and foreboding.
In general, the structure of self-forgiveness, or more accurately that of "experiencing
forgiveness for oneself," involves a shift from fundamental estrangement to being-at-home
with one's self in the world. This at-homeness involves a change in one's identity, which si-
multaneously feels very new and very familiar, as though one were recognizing for the first
time someone who has always been there: That which one has avoided accepting fully about
oneself, for example, the capacity to be enraged or hurtful, is now acknowledged as part of
who one is. One moves from an attitude of judgment to embracing who one is. This shift in

IThis section is based on an article by Bauer et at. (1992) published in the Journal ofReligion and Health. We are
grateful to the journal and the publisher, Human Sciences Press, for permission to include this material here.
238 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

identity grows out of the larger meaning the given incident has for one's life: Whereas the
initial distress is experienced in the context of a specific occasion or "wrongdoing," at some
point there is an awareness that one is in need of forgiveness for merely being human. There
is a clarity about oneself and one's place in the world, a sense of connectedness and freedom
in the face of the future. The journey is an arduous one requiring both an openness to the
mysterious in living and a faith, even in the face of seeming hopelessness, that things can
change. What follows is a more detailed account of the structure of self-forgiveness that in-
volves experiencing one's brokenness and estrangement, moving toward healing, and being
at home in the world.
Self-forgiveness is a pervasive and ongoing process. It begins when one is no longer able
to avoid or deny an increasing awareness that something is fundamentally wrong with one's
self or one's life. This awakening may occur in an obvious way, following a specific "crisis"
or catastrophic event, such as was the case for one woman whose son had committed suicide.
Alternatively, self-forgiveness may follow a series of difficult and profound changes
in a person's life, changes that may appear quite ordinary to outsiders, but are deeply felt by
the person experiencing them. Often, it was only in hindsight that the persons interviewed
were able to see a particular point in their lives as the start of a process ultimately leading
them toward self-forgiveness:
... before I was able to forgive my mother the issue of self-forgiveness never arose because I
didn't think I had done anything wrong, because I had just put it all on her. Then when I was will-
ing to forgive her for what she had done, I was able to see my side a little bit. As I opened up to her
point of view I also opened up to what was happening to me in a different way. And I saw that,
yeah, I was involved with drugs, I was mean to her, I was cruel. ... So that brought me to feeling
... remorseful for what happened and my involvement in it.

At this point, one experiences a sense of "brokenness," an estrangement from self and
others that is deeply painful. This disconnection is often accompanied by intense feelings of
self-recrimination as one replays the situation in one's mind, wracked with confusion, guilt,
anxiety, and despair. One's faults and fallibilities can no longer be denied or contained. One
feels agonizingly vulnerable, naked before self and others.
The closer one gets to realizing how much one has hurt oneself or has been hurtful to
others, the more one's sense of being "bad" or "wrong" intensifies. Often one becomes pre-
occupied with the very wrongness of the precipitating event itself. One fears one's weak-
ness will be discovered and desperately tries to fix the situation by oneself.
There is a struggle in the midst ofa deep sense of remorse. Emptiness, sadness, and in-
tense loneliness may emerge, alternating with cynicism and anger. Self-recrimination often
takes the form of "beating oneself up." At this point, one is not sure whether things will ever
change and one fears becoming stuck: never recovering from devastation, never moving
into healing, but remaining isolated, bitter, and cynical. One woman who suffered a psy-
chotic break after realizing her intense rage at her husband spoke of how hopeless life
seemed to her during this period: "It was like I entered into the darkest part of creation and
really couldn't see much purpose in being alive."
The overall movement of self-forgiveness can be described as one from estrangement
to feeling at home, from darkness to light, from deception and denial to honesty and ac-
knowledgment. This movement is not smooth or linear; it involves a great deal of struggle
and vacillation between acceptance and harsh judgment, but certain aspects of it can be
highlighted and described.
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 239

It is particularly important to experience some kind of loving acceptance from others,

especially of those parts of ourselves that we find disturbing: our anger, hatred, inadequacy,
mistakes, ignorance, hurtfulness, alienation, irresponsibility. Such relationships are found
with therapists, priests or pastors, friends, family; in fact, it may not be too strong a state-
ment to say that what is misleadingly called "self-forgiveness" always takes place in the
context of some variation of loving relationships with others. One woman described her
friends' support after the suicide of her son: While being supportive of her, they respected
and accepted her feeling of extreme vulnerability without being intrusive. Another de-
scribed a moment that was particularly important in her healing process:

... the sacramental moment was when I confessed to being angry at my husband ... and the
priest said it's not a sin to be angry. And I remember looking up at him just totally astounded that this
was not a sin.... As I looked at the priest ... lilt was as though I was looking into the eyes of love.

The nonjudgmental acceptance of another priest led her to refer to him as an "oasis in the
desert." Generally, there is an anchor of some sort-perhaps one's children or one's work-
that helps one to keep going.
One woman recounted a powerful experience of healing through religious symbols
during her pregnancy. The anchor in the process was the priest who guided her through a
meditation exercise that resulted in her experiencing Christ's love and forgiveness in a
compelling and surprising way. The priest's follow-up through regular phone calls to her
after this healing validated her experience of being accepted and helped her through pe-
riods when self-critical thoughts started to push aside the memory of the acceptance she
had experienced. And it was most important to her that this person, who had come to
know about the thoughts and feelings she had concealed from others, did not look at her
differently.
Another important aspect of the self-forgiveness process is a faith or determination
that the pain of experiencing one's brokenness will lead to healing, that is, a faith that there
is something on the "other side." This faith keeps one "hanging in there" at times when
nothing else offers hope of change. In one woman's words: " ... still within me there was,
no, by God, I am going to stick this out . . . I am gonna do this, I don't care what there is.
So even though the darkness was there, there was still that determination inside of me."
One man, who identified part of his self-forgiveness process as reconnecting with
parts of himself that had been "cut off" since he was a child, talked about the "stuckness"
he had felt in trying to find his life's work. He described his determination: " ... you have
to be able to make that affirmation, to be able to say 'O.K., I'm going to go ahead and face
failure ... and forgive myself.' "
For another man, the faith that is integral to forgiving oneself gives direction and shape
to one's life. Faith also opens us to the importance of the metaphorical or symbolic level of
experience. This openness acknowledges that there is something larger than or beyond our
immediate experience that helps to make sense of it. It also acknowledges our own human
limitations about what we can and cannot control, can and cannot know; openness also cre-
ates a sense of wonder about our lives and the world. In this regard, one person described
how encountering the work of Joseph Campbell affected her: " ... that was very healing for
me because I could look at that, the experience of mine, and say, Well, it looks like an ini-
tiatory experience of a shaman. And that helped me to express it in a way that was much
more peaceful."
 240 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

For the woman whose son had committed suicide two years earlier, a dream was a
powerful avenue of transformation. In the dream, she was in a large house with some
friends and her son, who left after lunch to go to the bathroom. Suddenly, she heard a terri-
ble scream from her son and found him sitting on the toilet with blood gushing out of him.
She knew immediately that he was dying, as did he, and there was nothing she could do, so
they held each other during his last moments. This dream marked a profound turning point
in her healing; after it, "life looked like itself again." She was able to reconnect with her ex-
perience and with others in a new way.
Sometimes, the transformative experience is simultaneously physical and metaphor-
ical. In the context of a guided meditation at a retreat, the woman who was pregnant was
encouraged to invite Jesus to come into the closed room in her mind where she believed all
the things for which she had not forgiven herself were kept. As she did so, she realized that
the room was musty and empty rather than full of horrible things. At that point, she felt Je-
sus' presence depart, leaving a void within her. She felt the child turn inside as though re-
sponding to the void, and she became very concerned, thinking, "Now I am really in
trouble." But with the encouragement of the priest, she continued the meditation. Then,
much to her surprise, she had the experience of being filled, and she felt forgiven and
spoken to as an individual.
We were continually reminded that the self-forgiveness process is one that includes
moments of "grace," like the ones described previously, coming unexpectedly as a gift, al-
most out of nowhere. It is faith that allows one to be open to these moments, but they are ex-
perienced at the time as being not of one's own making, but as coming to one. One person
described the experience in this way:
It had been raining that day, there was a beautiful rainbow that stretched from one side of that
valley to the other. So I just pulled up on the rest area up on top of the hill there and just parked the
car and just took it all in. It was as though that was God's covenant with me that yes, all the strug-
gles we've gone through are OK and you're going to make it....
In all of this openness, there is a kind of letting go-letting go of one's old identity,
expectations, and beliefs, especially the belief that one can heal oneself. This may be com-
bined with a sense that "life is too short" to hang on to old grudges, to punish oneself.
"Letting go," however, is not an intellectual, conscious act that we can engage in at will.
One man pointed to this distinction: "People think they have forgiven themselves or some-
body else when they've just figured out or they've understood why they did what they did,
but that's not forgiveness. Understanding is in the head and forgiveness is a surrender of
the heart."
An important aspect of the self-forgiveness process is experiencing the grief that
comes with letting go: grieving for what might have been, feeling regret for what was. In
one man's words: "Not feeling sorry for yourself, in that self-deprecating mode, but feel-
ing sorry towards yourself, really kind of giving up to yourself that open, like, 'I'm sorry'
and allowing yourself to be sorry and to forgive yourself ... then you can move on."
One also comes to a new understanding of responsibility. Where before one was pri-
marily in a denying or blaming stance toward oneself, now there is the honest acknowledg-
ment of one's participation in the event. One man, who had been rageful toward his mother,
described this change as follows: "When I recognized ... that I was feeling the need to for-
give [his mother], I was feeling the possibility of starting to see my own shortcomings, my
own irresponsibility, how I was involved in the situation, that I wasn't just a victim." This
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 241

awareness of one's responsibility frees one to move into a more accepting relationship with
oneself.
At some point, one realizes that one has experienced forgiveness. What one has previ-
ously negated or tried to change in oneself is now accepted as a part of who one is. This ac-
ceptance leads to a new relationship with oneself that has the quality of "being at home," a
sense of ease about oneself and one's place in the world. This was a gradual, subtle change
for most of the people we interviewed. It was not a case of "Before I was a stranger in a
strange land" and "Now I'm home for good." There was instead a growing sense of ease
about one's identity and a lessening of self-recrimination and anguish over one's relation-
ship to the world. For one person, forgiving meant "loving myself, including my mistakes
or hurting of other people, things like that ... [it] seems very peaceful and empowering."
There is a shift of focus to a meta-perspective that can embrace all aspects of one's
self. One is no longer defined solely by incidents or feelings of being "wrong" or "bad."
Rather, there is more of a sense of balance and movement. It is not that one never feels bad
or wrong, but that these feelings do not pervade the entire fabric of one's life. The woman
who had become psychotic in the face of her anger talked about darkness giving way to
longer, more frequent periods of light:
... it was as though a light broke in the darkness on a more regular basis after I began to talk
to [her priest] .... It's almost like it's the other side of where I was, where the light seldom broke
into the darkness, and now the darkness doesn't break into the lightness [as often]. ... [The dark-
ness] is not as frightening, it doesn't seem like it's forever....

This quality of "at-homeness" is fundamentally an acceptance of one's humanness, of-

ten described as a kind of integration or reclaiming. As Buckley (1971, p. 207) has written
so aptly in his discussion of the phenomenology of at-homeness, "A genuine openness to
reality is clearly a primary requisite for feeling at home." Owning parts of oneself that were
previously denied or split off gradually awakens a sense that one's "dark side" is less threat-
ening. One feels ordinary, neither saint nor devil. One becomes more honest with oneself
and, in doing so, also judges others and oneselfless harshly. One woman described this feel-
ing as "a very gentle resolve"; others pointed to an awareness that judgment had ceased to
be the primary way of relating to the world.
Full acceptance of one's humanness involves an awareness of one's connection with
others and the world. Life may go on more or less as usual, but there is a deepened, intimate
sense of involvement. Words such as "reconciliation" and "belonging" were often used to
describe this quality of forgiveness toward oneself. One no longer has to betray one's true
self, or the darker aspect of oneself, in order to feel in community with others. One person
spoke of being a "part of humanity without losing anything, except a false self ... I'm not
afraid to look other people in the face and tell them who I am."
With renewed trust and acceptance of one's place in the world, one becomes more fully
integrated into the ebb and flow of day-to-day living. Life tends to be analyzed less and par-
ticipated in more spontaneously and freely. One man stated:

... by becoming more of a pattern of the way that I relate to myself [forgiveness] becomes a
little bit easier, it becomes more frequent, and maybe even a little less self-conscious. You know, af-
ter a while of swimming you don't have to think of the motions. You just do it ....

Simultaneously, one experiences one's own separateness. One woman spoke of a

deepened sense of individuality as she healed: "I was able to just value that self-care, that
242 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

affirmation of claiming boundaries, just holding my own ...." In reference to her ex-hus-
band, she said: " ... he just very seldom comes to mind ... I thought, 'Well that's wonder-
ful, I really am a separate person now.' "
This at-homeness is accompanied by peace of mind, a sense of unity, a feeling that life
is fundamentally right and needs no correction. As one group member wrote:
... then there is some other place, as yet nameless, which embraces all, giving everything a
connection, and giving [mel a place of belonging. It may be a place of effortless power, of warmth
and light which dispels the darkness and chill of the night, at once deeply familiar and entirely new.

THE IMPLICATIONS OF A PHENOMENOLOGICAL UNDERSTANDING

OF FORGIVENESS FOR PSYCHOTHERAPY

We live in an age when many people experience a strong sense of alienation from com-
munity and themselves. This alienation is often accompanied by feelings of guilt, shame,
anxiety, hostility, and depression. For some people, this situation is reflected in severe dys-
function in their living. Others may experience a general sense of malaise and a lack of
meaning in their lives. It is not unusual for people, in trying to remedy their dis-ease, to
seek out the service of professionals who are concerned with psychological health. While
not always evident or articulated, forgiveness of self and others is often an important issue
for them. This section will briefly outline the authors' assumptions regarding the process of
psychotherapy, the place of forgiveness in a hypothetical therapeutic process, and, finally,
the role of the therapist in facilitating movement toward forgiveness.
The authors bring the following assumptions to their understanding of psychotherapy:
1. Healing and change take place in the context of a profoundly interpersonal rela-
tionship composed of someone who is willing-hesitantly perhaps-to make himself or
herself vulnerable and an open, responsible, respectful therapist who is willing to commit
to this endeavor in service of the patient.
2. We have a fundamental faith in people's individual processes and that of psychother-
apy when it involves two well-intentioned people who meet the criteria enumerated above.
This faith is imperative when the next step in the process is unclear and/or frightening.
3. The relationship develops over time and evolves out of the interaction-both spo-
ken and tacit-between the psychotherapist and the patient. Each therapeutic relationship
and process is unique and a reflection of the persons of the two people involved.
4. We never know what is best for the other. This does not mean we are passive re-
ceptors: We bring our life experiences, personal psychotherapy, and training to bear in re-
sponse to patients and their living; we are mindful, however, of our limitations as human
beings and psychotherapists.
5. We assume that when someone chooses psychotherapy there is a desire for things
to be different even if exactly how this will occur is not clear either to the patient or the psy-
chotherapist and the route is not immediately obvious.
6. We believe people are essentially interpersonal beings. When there is a disturbance
in their capacity to enjoy and participate in community, there is a disturbance in their abil-
ity to enjoy themselves.
People come to psychotherapy for a variety of reasons, for example, depression, in-
somnia, poor interpersonal relationships, feeling empty. Basically their life is not the way
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 243

they want it to be, and they are in some degree of distress, often profound distress. For many
people, seeking help from a professional therapist still carries a stigma, meaning one is a
failure, unable to handle one's own problems and maybe even "crazy." There is also anxiety
about being seen ("seen through") by the psychotherapist. So people often turn to psy-
chotherapy as a last resort, when all else has failed. They often come somewhat embar-
rassed and anxious-unsure of what to expect. But they know one thing: They want things
to be different. They want something to be corrected.
The response of the psychotherapist is crucial at the early stage of the process. A pos-
ture that communicates "I hear you and I can sit with you" begins to provide a foundation
of hope that things might improve. This early phase necessarily involves establishing a re-
lationship (the relationship is always central, but early on it is explicitly so as two strangers
meet). The psychotherapist is interested in who this patient is, what brings the patient to
treatment, what it has been for the patient to be alive, what daily life is like, what the patient
sees/hopes for the future, and so forth. Is this someone to whom I can be of help? Simulta-
neously, the patient is assessing whether the psychotherapist can be relied on, trusted, and
is helpful and competent. Out of this develops a relationship with a quality unlike any other.
If the psychotherapist and patient decide they want to work together, the patient begins a
process of self-exploration.
In this process, it often becomes clear that the patient believes deeply that there are cer-
tain ways of being that are necessary to be loved and other ways of being that will exact pun-
ishment. For example, some people learn to be caretakers and cannot allow themselves to
be cared for, others learn that they have to be perfect to be acceptable. Some are convinced
that they have to be tough or they will be taken advantage of, others that they must always be
positive and never angry or critical. The problem with these ideal self-images is that no one
can live up to them satisfactorily and they limit the full array of human experience. So peo-
ple end up feeling badly about themselves and quite alienated from their deepest aspirations,
feelings, and potentials. But the self-image is such a strong deftnition of what people believe
they should be like that they hope in psychotherapy to finally realize that image. For exam-
ple, the tough guy wants to become tougher or the perfectionist wants to be more perfect.
This is a critical point in the psychotherapy process: One's self definition is called into
question, and this is frightening. If the patient is committed to his growth and feels suffi-
ciently supported in the therapy relationship, he may embark on a process of becoming
more familiar with himself. This is often a difficult and painful time, often involving shame
and guilt. For example, the person who always takes care of others may feel very ashamed
about his own deep desire to be dependent. Clearly, this is an area in which self-forgiveness
is an issue.
This process also involves facing feelings and thoughts about parental figures who
taught one how to be in order to be loved and may have been abusive in various ways. This
realization is often slow in coming. For example, it is not untypical for people to come into
therapy painting a rosy picture of their childhood or at least minimizing the difficulties of
their growing-up experience. We often believe that our parents were justified in what they
did and said because they were crucial to our psychological survival. This belief is often
carried into adulthood, and we are reluctant to consider that they might have been wrong
and hurtful (however well-meaning).
But as the patient begins to realize that she has been given a very limited definition of
who she can be to be accepted, she often becomes very angry toward those who imposed
 244 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

this definition on her. Suddenly, the parents who were seen through rose-colored glasses are
seen in all their failings. The process now becomes one of allowing the client to experience
the disappointment, the anger, the sadness, the grief that come with realizing that someone
very important has let one down. This is a period when the patient focuses on who she is in
her life and also faces who her parents were/are. Slowly, the patient begins to realize that
her task is not to become more perfect, more tough, or more positive, but to accept herself
as being utterly unique and ordinary at the same time. And as the patient becomes more ac-
cepting or forgiving toward herself, parents also seem more ordinary-neither saints nor
Satans, but people who had their failings and limitations but also loved in the only ways
they knew how.
As the psychotherapy comes to an end, people report many things: feeling lighter,
more loving toward self and others, freer, having more choices, more able to maneuver the
storms of life, calmer, less conflicted emotionally. They are no longer rigidly tied to the
past, and the future offers choices and opportunities. There is at once a sense of self-
possession, of independence, and of being a part of the human community. It is this em-
bracing of one's own humanity and the humanity of others that reflects the deeper meaning
of forgiveness.
The role of the psychotherapist in facilitating the movement toward forgiveness re-
quires the same qualities that working through other psychological issues requires: accep-
tance, patience, sensitivity, and knowledge of human experience. These qualities are not
mutually exclusive but obviously interrelated.
In his study offorgiveness in psychotherapy, Rooney (1989) found that the most sig-
nificant factor for clients was the accepting presence of the psychotherapist. Many people
come to psychotherapy with deep-seated feelings of pain, guilt, shame, and anger about
who they are, how they have behaved, and how they have been treated. At some level, they
assume that when they are really known they will be rejected. The fear is that the psy-
chotherapist will be repulsed by who they really are or overwhelmed by the intensity of
their feelings. This expectation reflects how they are in relationship to themselves and how
they have experienced others. The key is the genuine attention by the therapist to the expe-
rience of the patient. This is more important than any specific verbal exchange. It is very
powerful for a patient when the psychotherapist holds his experience, be it anger, self-
loathing, confusion, fantasies, or fear, without being punitive. To be in relationship with
someone who is not rejecting is disarming to someone who expects such a reaction. The pa-
tient is thus called upon to reconsider via the therapist his relationship to self and to others.
Second, the psychotherapist needs to be patient. Each person's process of healing has its
own course and needs to be honored. To offer an interpretation, such as "You need to forgive
your parents" or "You're being unduly harsh on yourself," may reflect what eventually be-
comes obvious but ifill-timed interferes with genuine movement. The patient might feel un-
heard and/or attempt to proceed in a certain direction in order to please the psychotherapist.
Forgiveness comes, but cannot be willed. The psychotherapist needs to be careful to
allow the process to unfold and not attempt to rush it. This is true at each point. For exam-
ple, when a patient is wavering between feeling kindly toward herself and hopeless, or be-
tween seeing parents as flawed human beings and malicious people, the psychotherapist
may be wise to either sit with the wavering or make some comment to the effect that "it's
important not to go too fast." This again reassures the patient that who she is at that moment
is acceptable and her own experience is appropriate for the work she is doing.
PSYCHOLOGY OF FORGIVENESS 245

Third, the psychotherapist must be sensitive to the import for the patient of what is be-
ing expressed. When the client is revealing strong emotion or "irrational" thoughts, the psy-
chotherapist may be tempted to minimize or correct the patient's experience, as a way
perhaps to protect the psychotherapist from the intensity of the affect and/or to help allevi-
ate the patient's suffering. For example, when someone is blaming himself, it is not help-
ful, initially, to try to be reassuring or talk him out of it. The patient needs to feel what he is
experiencing and have that be accepted. Later, there will be time to explore the meaning of
the self-criticalness.
On the other hand, sometimes people continue to express a certain affect-for exam-
ple, anger-when it doesn't quite ring true. Sometimes this occurs when deeper feelings,
such as sadness, are lurking under the surface. Sometimes it happens out of habit. A per-
son so used to feeling a certain way may have difficulty recognizing a decrease in intensity
or the presence of some other emotion. It is helpful if the psychotherapist can discern the
authenticity and depth of what is being expressed. This enables patients to embrace their
own experience more freely as they become more aware of themselves and their relation-
ship to others.
A knowledge of human experience is also useful when helping people come to a
fuller and richer understanding of themselves and others. A therapist can be very helpful
by offering a different perspective than the patient may have. For example, when some-
one is feeling murderous, suggesting that such feelings make sense in light of what has
happened can help make the feeling less threatening. Knowing about the human condi-
tion, particularly forgiveness in this case, gives the therapist insight into what may be
happening. For example, gentle confrontation of a patient when she seems "unable to
move" (an observation that requires careful discernment), such as "What would life be
like if your mother [father, spouse, children] never changed?" or "Can you imagine what
life would be like if you weren't angry at [or yourself]," can be helpful.
Such well-timed inquiries provide the patient with the notion that there are other possi-
bilities, that there may be deeper, unapparent reasons for resisting change, and that one's
fate is not sealed.
When forgiveness is an issue for people, an injury, an injustice, whether the result of
one's own behavior or that of another, is the focus of one's consciousness. Yet in forgiving
either self or another, there is a deeper meaning that has significant ramifications for how
one experiences life. As discussed earlier, when one has been deeply hurt by another, one is
suddenly faced with questions about one's value and place in the world. Similarly, when
self-forgiveness is an issue, one is confronted with attitudes and beliefs about one's self and
one's failures. Out of struggling with these deeper questions of identity, one comes to a
fuller, richer, and more complete embracing of self and others as human beings.
Part of the process that is crucial for forgiveness to occur is the open acknowledgment
and examination of the injustice as experienced. As we have seen, this openness to the in-
jury and its consequences create room to move past the hurt. This attitude of genuine regard
for experience is at the heart of depth psychotherapy. It is not surprising, therefore, that the
two processes-forgiveness and psychotherapy-are harmonious and that the acceptance,
patience, and sensitivity of the psychotherapist are ideal facilitators of forgiveness. Further,
the better the psychotherapist understands the nature of injury and forgiveness, the more
comfortable he or she will be as "witness" to the process, even when forgiveness is never
explicitly on the agenda.
246 JAN O. ROWE AND STEEN HALLING

REFERENCES

Bauer, L., Duffy, 1., Fountain, E., Halling, S., Holzer, M., Jones, E., Leifer, M., & Rowe, 1. O. (1992). Exploring
self-forgiveness. Journal ofReligion and Health, 31 (2), 149-160.
Buber, M. (1958). I and thou. New York: Scribner.
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human (pp. 59-88). New York: Harper & Row.
Buckley, EM. (1971). An approach to a phenomenology of at-homeness. In A. Giorgi, W. E Fischer, & R. von
Eckartsberg (Eds.). Duguesne studies in phenomenological psychology, Volume 1 (pp. 196-211). Pittsburgh,
PA: Duquesne University Press.
Close, H. (1970). Forgiveness and responsibility: A case study. Pastoral Psychology, 21(205), 19-26.
Enright, R. D., Gassin, E. A., & Wu, C. (1992). Forgiveness: A developmental view. Journal ofMoral Education,
2,99-114.
Enright, R. D., Santos, M. 1. D., & AI-Mabuk, R. (1989). The adolescent as forgiver. Journal ofAdolescence, 12,
95-110.
Fitzgibbons, R. P. (1986). The cognitive and emotive uses of forgiveness in the treatment of anger. Psychotherapy,
23(4),629-633.
Flanigan, B. (1992). Forgiving the unforgivable. New York: Macmillan.
Freedman, S. R., & Enright, R. D. (1995). Forgiveness education with incest survivors. Paper presented at the Na-
tional Conference on Forgiveness, University of Wisconsin, Madison, March.
Gadamer, H. (1975). Truth and method. New York: Seabury.
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nal ofConflict Resolution, 12(2),224-234.
Giorgi, A. (1970). Psychology as a human science. New York: Harper & Row.
Halling, S. (1979). Eugene O'Neill's understanding of forgiveness. In A. Giorgi, R. Knowles, & D.L. Smith (Eds.),
Duquesne studies in phenomenological psychology: Volume III (pp. 193-208). Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne
University Press.
Halling, S. Kunz, G., & Rowe, 1.0. (1994). The contributions of dialogal psychology to phenomenological re-
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Halling, S., & Leifer, M. (1991). The theory and practice of dialogal research. Journal ofPhenomenological Psy-
chology, 22(1), 1-15.
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Jaspers, K. (1970). Philosophy: Volume 3. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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Marcel, G. (1991). The philosophy ofexistentialism. New York: Citadel Press.
Martyn, D. W. (1977). A child and Adam: A parable of two ages. Journal ofReligion and Health. 16(4),275-287.
McCullough, M. E., & Worthington, E. L., Jr. (1994). Models of interpersonal forgiveness and their applications
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Palmer, P. (1983). To know as we are known. New York: Harper & Row.
Patton, 1. (1985).ls human forgiveness possible? Nashville: Abingdon Press.
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chotherapy, 27(2),219-233.
 11
Women's Psychospiritual
Paths Before, During, and
After Finding It Difficult
to Pray to a Male God
Kathleen Mulrenin

SHUG: Tell me what your God look like Celie.

CELIE: Okay ... He big and old and tall and graybearded and white. Sort of bluish-gray [eyes1
Cool. Big though. White lashes.
SHUG: Ain't no way to read the Bible and not think God white.... When I found out I thought
God was white, and a man, I lost interest. (Walker, 1982, pp. 201-202)

In this brief excerpt from a dialogue, the novelist Alice Walker (1982) captures an impor-
tant shift in perspective that one woman, Shug, has already undertaken and is gently lead-
ing another woman, Celie, to consider. Shug's perspective is that of a black woman who is
aware of the use of religious images in a specific cultural context, namely, the image of a
white, male God, in a white, male-dominated society. Research in cultural anthropology
(Eisler, 1987; Lerner, 1986; Stone, 1976) and writings by black (Cone, 1970; Jones, 1987)
and feminist theologians (Geller, 1983; Ronan, Taussig, & Cady, 1986; Spretnak, 1982)
suggest that changes in images of the divine often reflect changes in individual and cultural
psychologies. Jones (1987, p. ix) writes: "Especially the concept of God, when it is alien,
can hold one, mind and body, in bondage to a distorted understanding of one's own true
selfhood, one's own humanity, and in the case of Black people, the meaning of one's own
blackness."

Kathleen Mulrenin • Butler Hospital, Providence, Rhode Island 02906.

247
248 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

In my research, women of different Judeo-Christian religious traditions were asked to

describe a time in which they found it difficult to pray to a masculine image of the divine l
and how, if at all, they resolved it. In contrast to Valle's description of spiritual phenomena
(Valle, 1989, 1995; Chapter 12 in this volume), my research is not an investigation ofuni-
tive or self-transcendent experiences. Instead, I examine what happens when praying to
God, the Father, Jesus, or some other male image of a divine fails to bring about a desired
effect-when there is disharmony rather than resonance in the relationship. In examining
explicitly problematic, "gendered" spiritual relationships, we might better understand what
it means essentially, for some women, to be women, to be women in relation to men, to
male images of the divine, and to Judeo-Christian religious communities.
This starting point places my research somewhere on the banks of everyday experi-
ences, offering a few planks in the building of a bridge to span the existential and the
transpersonal dimensions of phenomenological psychology. Like other existentially ori-
ented researchers, I examine experiences rooted in everyday life, specifically, the lives of
women raised in Judeo-Christian traditions. My work remains on the ground of existential
experience, aware of, but not necessarily leaping into, the flow of transcendent experiences.
I study the constellation of relationships, events, feelings, and thoughts that bring women to
realize their struggles with their religious images. In this study, I examine those paths lead-
ing from childhood beliefs in masculine images of the divine to the "awakening of con-
sciousness" to oneself as a woman, one's God as male, and one's culture as patriarchally
organized.
In this chapter, I offer a concise overview of research in psychospirituality, including
women's psycho spiritual development. I also summarize the work of philosophers, theolo-
gians, and social scientists who place current theological and psychological questions con-
cerning gender and spirituality within a broader historical perspective. Following this
review, I discuss the phenomenological research design I employed. Finally, I present and
discuss my qualitative findings on women's psychospiritual paths before, during, and after
they find it difficult to pray to a masculine image of the divine.

THEORIES OF PSYCHOSPIRITUAL DEVELOPMENT

The theorists I review in this section take differing approaches to understanding psy-
chospiritual development. Allport (1950) focused not only on how individuals image the di-
vine, but also on how they develop systems of beliefs that concur with that image. Fowler
(1981) attended more to the cognitive dimensions of beliefs systems than to specific images
of the divine. He relied substantially on Kohlberg's (1968, 1969, 1974), Piaget's (1962,
1967), and Erikson's (1963, 1968) models of development as vital components of his own
thought on faith development. After reviewing these "stage" theorists, I summarize the
works ofRizutto (1979), an object relations theorist, and Randour (1987), whose research
deals exclusively with women's psychospiritual development. I include also in my review

ITo broaden the scope of possible responses, I chose to use the word divine rather than God in my research ques-
tion. From pilot studies, I learned that to use the phrase "masculine image of the divine" left respondents free to
describe any male images that they found difficult rather than restricting them specifically to a male God or, sim-
ply, God. For example, one woman wrote of her image of a "cherub-cheeked infant Jesus."
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 249

the provocative thought of van Kaam (1975), a phenomenological psychologist and prolific
writer in the area offormative spirituality, and Goldenberg (1993), a professor in the psy-
chology of religion. Given these many varied approaches, it is important to mention a com-
monality regarding images of the divine. According to the research of Nelsen, Cheek, and
Au (1985), Pagels (1976), Roof and Roof (1984), and Vergote and Tamayo (1980), the dom-
inant images of the divine are masculine in our Western culture. Furthermore, when alter-
native images are employed, women are more likely than are men to use these different
images. The review of the literature of psycho spiritual development as well as the new light
my findings shed on psycho spiritual development should help us understand how women
might come to question the dominant cultural androcentric images of the divine and their
resolutions to those questions.

Stage Theories of Psychospiritual Development

According to Allport (1950), a psychologist and early writer on the psychology of re-
ligion, the divine is perceived in direct relation to the needs of the individual. In regard to
psychospiritual development, Allport (1950) wrote that the divine is represented: (1) as om-
nipotent when the attribute of power is important to the individual; (2) as a source of
strength and security when affection is desired; (3) as omniscient when knowledge and
guidance are sought; (4) as peace and comfort when solace is sought; and (5) as redeeming
when absolution is needed. Allport (1950) also provided a schema of the difference between
mature and immature religious sentiments. An immature image of the divine stresses the
egocentric needs of the individual and is based primarily on magical thinking and wish ful-
fillment. In such imaging, the emphasis is on self-gratification; the person remains un-
reflective and inconsistent. For example, God is like Celie's old, white man, a Santa
Claus-like figure. For Allport (1950), such an image does not provide the individual with
an integrating or unifying philosophy. It is this process of integration that distinguishes a
mature from an immature religious belief. He further elaborated these criteria to include
an interest in values that transcend bodily needs and an ability to reflect and gather insights
from one's own life.
A cursory overview of Fowler's (1981) stages offaith highlights the similarity of his
conceptualization offaith development to the work of Allport (1950). For example, in the
first stage, the Intuitive-Projective Stage, Fowler (1981) described faith as expressed in
the rudimentary use of language, in imitation, and in fantasy. In the second stage, the
Mythic-Literal Faith, because the child's cognitive skills also have grown, he or she begins
to hear and speak the family story, drama, and myth. The world begins to cohere with ref-
erence to the family unit. In the Synthetic-Conventional Stage, a child learns an ideology,
supported by external authorities, anchored in the larger social sphere of family, friends,
work, and school. The locus of authority is outside oneself. Most children recognize au-
thority as resting with parents, teachers, and clergy. Generally, social custom supports the
child's perception of the authority of others. However, in order to move to the fourth stage
of faith development, the Individuative-Reflective Faith, the locus of authority must shift to
oneself, to the development of what Fowler (1981) termed the executive ego. The fifth stage
involves a widening of one's own worldview to embrace what is paradoxical to one's view
(Conjunctive Stage). In the fifth stage, individuals know dialogically. This kind of knowing
involves affirming both poles of a dialectic. Simply put, one sees both/and rather than
250 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

either!or. One asks a question and knows that in asking the question, one already knows the
path of the answer. Fowler (1981) likened this dialogue to the emergence of unconscious
material to conscious awareness. He also compared his understanding of dialogic knowing
to Buber's (1937) mutual relating of the J- Thou relation.
The sixth stage involves a willingness to overcome the paradoxes oflife and faith through
self-sacrifice (Universalizing Stage). Universalizers willingly live their lives in sacrifice for a
greater good. Fowler (1981, p. 200) wrote of these individuals: "Their heedlessness to self-
preservation and the vividness of their taste and feel for the transcendent moral and religious
actuality give their actions and words an extraordinary and often unpredictable quality." When
one lives a life of self-sacrifice and unpredictability, inevitably tensions and conflicts arise.
Biblical figures are frequently depicted as struggling with the conflict between the desires of
"human nature" and the call to sacrifice selffor others. According to Fowler (1981), univer-
salizers are often filled with such turmoil, conflict, and struggle. The locus of authority at this
stage of faith development is "in a personal judgment informed by the experiences and truths
of previous stages, purified of egoic striving, and linked by disciplined intuition to the princi-
ple of being" (Fowler, 1981, p. 245). In this final stage, authority is based on a finely tuned
intuition developed over years of attentiveness to curbing self-centered interests and in inti-
mate agreement with guiding spiritual, ethical, principles. In the theories of both Allport
(1950) and Fowler (1981), mature spiritualities reflect the shift of authority from an external
locus to oneself, the development of universal guiding principles, and the sacrifice of self, es-
pecially bodily needs. Having considered the more cognitive approaches to psychospiritual de-
velopment, let us turn to an object relations approach offered by Rizutto (1979).

Object Relations Theory and Spiritual Development

Drawing from the insights of object relation theorists (Sandler, 1960; Schafer, 1968;
Winnicott, 1965, 1971, 1975), Rizutto (1979) provides a psychoanalytical analysis of the
development of images of the divine or what she calls "God representations." She identified
the use of God representations as in the service of development or as impediments to
growth. Rizutto (1979) also articulated the elaboration and transformation of these repre-
sentations as an individual matures and adapts to changes in life circumstances. Citing clin-
ical examples, she characterized the God image as directly experienced and rudimentarily
created early in the child's development (Rizutto, 1979, p. 188): "The mirroring compo-
nents of the God representation find their first experience in eye contact, early nursing, and
maternal personal participation in the act of mirroring."
Rizutto (1979) understood God representations to be formed from early representations
of parents and, in some cases, of siblings. These images, though initially inspired by the im-
ages and interactions with the parents and others, exceed the child's experience of others. The
divine image becomes the creation of the child-offspring of the child's fears and desires.
Thus, the child's representation of the divine may be more punitive than the disciplining real
father or more nurturing than the compassionate real mother. Developmentally, these repre-
sentations shift as the child grows. In the words of Rizutto (1979, p. 90):
In the course of development each individual produces an idiosyncratic and highly personal-
ized representation of God derived from his object relations, his evolving self-representations, and
his enviromnental systems of belief. Once formed, that complex representation cannot be made to
disappear; it can only be repressed, transformed, or used.
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 251

Rizutto (1979) neither proposed a specific developmental theory different for each
gender nor considered in any depth the cultural influences on the development of God rep-
resentation. She did call attention, however, to Freud's lack of attentiveness to women's psy-
chospiritual development as distinct from men's psychospiritual development. Rizutto
(1979, p. 42) suggested that Freud's theory offered "no explanation for the God representa-
tion in women except 'cross inheritance.'''

Women's Psychospiritual Experiences

The psychologist Randour (1987) does offer a qualitative analysis of women's spiritual
experience. Because of the foundational importance of her work, I will quote liberally from
her text. Randour's (1987) study included interviews of94 women about their spiritual ex-
periences. Randour (1987, p. 27) asked women to "describe what was, for you, an impor-
tant or memorable spiritual experience . . . describe the situation and how you felt in the
situation as completely as possible." Randour's qualitative research approach yielded de-
scriptive categories or subgroups that she identified as emerging women, selves in conflict,
resolute women, and mystical women. Emerging women described their spiritual experi-
ences as part of a process of self-development, of discovering themselves, their beauty, and
power. "Not one of them speaks of God the Father" (Randour, 1987, p. 44). These women
located authority within themselves, and many of the women were cognizant of feminist
theology.
Selves in conflict were women under the age of 21. They described their spiritual
experiences as struggles with the divine, as trying to achieve a balance between self-
assertion and a traditional understanding of sin. Unlike the emerging women, the selves in
conflict were less at home with self-assertion and pride. They struggled to balance a sense
of self-authority and power with relationship with others (the divine, family, friends).
Resolute women consisted of "older women," though Randour (1987, p. 48) gave no ages:
These women, resolute in their understanding of their spiritual task, do not waver between
seeking to satisfy self and seeking to satisfy others. Talking in the tones of traditional religious
voice, they strive for submission to a higher authority, not self-enhancement. Accepting the tradi-
tional Christian conception of sin for them means that self-assertion endangers their relationship to
God and that acquiescence enhances it.

Mystical women experience themselves as one with the divine. Women in this group
subsumed their will in the will of the divine. Unlike resolute women, mystical women did
not experience themselves as handing over their power or authority. Rather, this experience
of the divine or the sacred is qne of openness, of allowing the sacred within oneself. One
woman described her experience of the sacred within (Randour, 1987, p. 52) as
buried in a darkness in which I could not see, a vacuum in which I could not hear, in a space-
less-timeless void-I "saw" God, I "heard" God, and I was "in" God.... I was "wrapped" in God
and carried a sphere oflight, warmth, and indescribable peace around me.

Other research in psychospiritual development (Jackson & Coursey, 1988; Pargament et aI.,
1988) supports these mystical women's notion of collaboratively relating to the divine. In a
collaborative relationship, authority is located both within oneself and within the divine.
Randour's (1987) research provides a schema that we might reference as we look closely at
the transformations of experiences that occur in women's psychospiritual development.
 252 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

Gender Conflicts with Male Gods: Evidence of an Immature Spirituality?

In this section, I examine the work of van Kaam, a noted theorist and practitioner of
formative spirituality and a founding member of the faculty of phenomenological psychol-
ogy at Duquesne University. In particular, I succinctly summarize his comments relating
psychological developmental issues to spiritual conflicts with male Gods.
Van Kaam (1975, p. 124) cited an explicit example of children who felt anxiety over
the image of God the Father because "their mothers used to instill fear in their children,
threatening to hand the child over to father if the child misbehaved." Van Kaam (1975, p.
112) understood an individual's conflict concerning God's gender as a quasi-spiritual phe-
nomenon rooted in the "infraconsciousness mode" of the body-self rather than the "supra-
consciousness mode" of the spirit-self. Infraconsciousness is restricted to the body and
mundane human interaction. Supraconsciousness involves an openness to a relationship
with God that by definition transcends everyday concerns. According to van Kaam (1975,
p. 110), the conflict over God's gender is an inauthentic conflict that recedes in importance
as one develops a more mature, adult spirituality. A mature spirituality embodies an "open-
ness to what is beyond us, to the whole of all that is, the Holy."
Is van Kaam's (1975) basic premise of splitting the gendered body from the spiritual
self really a more mature spirituality? Allport (1950) and Fowler (1981) might agree, since
both of their psychospiritual developmental theories saw bodily needs and existence as sec-
ondary to higher ideals and principles. As I discuss in more detail below, van Kaam's (1975)
dichotomous thinking is certainly well within the tradition of Western psychology and spir-
ituality. If it is the case that maturity involves a relinquishing of concerns with the body,
then women who find their male God's gender problematic would be considered immature
in their psychological and spiritual development. And yet, rather than assuming maturity or
immaturity on the basis of a particular sociocultural understanding of spirituality, we must
ask what role that culture has in the development and maintenance of these male images.
Furthermore, how do women experience the possible interplay of culture and religious sym-
bols in their psychological and spiritual development? What meaning is there in the statis-
tical fact that masculine images of the divine are more likely to be called into question by
women? What are women telling us when they say they find it difficult to pray to masculine
images of the divine? How shall we understand the body, the gendered body, in psychos-
piritual development for women? To respond to these questions with reference to previous
research, I will review research in the psychology of religion as well as writings of theolo-
gians and mystics in the Judeo-Christian tradition.

EMBODIED OR TRANSCENDENT SPIRITUALITIES

Underhill (1961), the preeminent scholar of mysticism, carefully described two differ-
ent traditions of mysticism that are distinguished by the ways in which individuals experi-
ence their corporeality. One tradition, the Neoplatonist, stems from the writings of Plato.
Within this tradition, the divine is experienced as utterly transcendent. One experiences em-
anations or attributes of the divine, like the shadows on Plato's cave wall. Dionysius, a
Greek philosopher, the Cabalists (Jewish medieval mystics), and Christian ecstatic mystics,
notably St. John of the Cross, are historical examples of this kind of mysticism. Underhill
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 253

(1961, p. 98) suggests: "Obviously, if this theory of the Absolute be accepted, the path of the
soul's ascent to union with the divine must be literally a transcendence: a journey upward
and outward," out of the body. In the other tradition, the theory of immanence, which W.
James endorsed as that ofa "healthy mind" (Underhill, 1961, p. 99), "the quest oftheAb-
solute is no long journey, but a realization of something which is implicit in the self and in
the universe: an opening of the eyes of the soul upon the Reality in which it is bathed. For
them the earth is literally 'crammed into heaven.''' Underhill cautioned, however, against
seeing these two traditions as mutually exclusive. For example, St. John of the Cross (1946)
wrote stirring sensual metaphors of union with the divine and also admonished his readers,
"Wheretofore, he that will place great reliance upon bodily senses will never become a very
spiritual person" (p. 46). Frequently, mystics refer to their experiences in explicitly sensual
or sexual tones. These metaphors suggest a passionate desire for union, intimacy, and rela-
tionship that seems to be best described through sexual or sensual terms. What if we took
these phrases more literally? What if spiritual desire included embodied experience?
Eisler, a cultural anthropologist, has written extensively in her most recent book
(Eisler, 1996) on the evolution of our current Eastern and Western religious cultures and
their changing understanding of sex, pleasure, and pain. Of the Indian Tantric yoga tradi-
tion, Eisler (1996, p. 27) describes pleasure and sex as integral to spiritual practice: "The
central rite is maithuna or sexual union. The purpose of this rite is to awaken the kundalini
or divine energy, which is often explicitly identified with shakti, the creative power of the
Goddess." However, Eisler (1996, p. 147) suggests that within the Tantric tradition there is,
by way of idealizing, a distancing of the embodied female from the path of enlightenment:
"The female sexual energy is described from the male perspective, with the woman playing
an instrumental-and in that sense secondary, indeed peripheral-role to the male's spiri-
tual enlightenment through sex." Nevertheless, as Feuerstein (1989, p. 253) points out,
Tantric yoga "introduced a battery of means that hitherto had been excluded from the spir-
itual repertoire of mainstream Hinduism, notably Goddess-worship and sexuality."
Boyarin (1993), a religious scholar, also has undertaken a study of sex and the body
in the Judeo-Christian traditions and their precedent religions. Boyarin (1993, p. 5) suggests
that "for rabbinic Jews,,,2 "the human being was defined as a body-animated, to be sure,
by a soul-while Hellenistic Jews (such as Philo) and (at least many Greek-speaking)
Christians (such as Paul), the essence of a human being is a soul housed in a body." For the
midrashic, or rabbinic, Jews (Boyarin, 1993, p. 65): "The same drive that in the study-house
will lead a man to study Torah will in bed lead him to have intercourse with his wife, and
this is the very same drive that will lead him into sin when he is alone with a woman to
whom he is not married. The passion is one." Spiritual and sexual desire are, one might say,
genetically identical. For the Hellenistic Jews and Christians, however, the body (matter)
became linked with the feminine (Eve) and the spirit or soul (spirit) became associated with
the masculine (Adam). This dichotomy led to whole theologies and philosophies founded
on a mind-body split as well as misogynistic principles. For example, Boyarin (1993, p. 58)
quotes the Jewish philosopher Maimoindes:
How extraordinary is what Solomon said in his wisdom when likening matter to a married
harlot, for matter is in no way found without form and is consequently always like a married

2Boyarin (1993, p. 2) explains that "the term rabbinic Judaism refers not to the Judaism practiced by Rabbis but to
the Judaism practiced by Rabbis and by those who considered the Rabbis their spiritual authority."
 254 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

woman who is never separated from a man and is never free. However, notwithstanding her be-
ing a married woman, she never ceases to seek for another man to substitute for her husband, and
she deceives and draws him on in every way until he obtains from her what her husband used to
obtain.

Centuries later, employing similar logic, the Christian medieval theologian Aquinas
wrote, "Man is above woman, as Christ is above man" (cited in de Beauvoir, 1952, p. 110).
What developed from the Hellenistic tradition of emanational transcendence was a hier-
archy not only with regard to the individual's relation to his or her own body but also with
regard to gender relations, with men seen as primary over women. This discussion brings us
back to women's developing spiritualities. In finding it difficult to pray to a masculine
image of the divine, women are attending to gender, to the body. Will this embodied context
and experience necessarily involve a more immanent rather than a transcendent experience
of the divine? We shall see, but before presenting my findings, I outline the writings of
Goldenberg (1993), a professor of the psychology of religion at the University of Ottawa,
who analyzed Western philosophical, religious, and psychological theory from a feminist
and engendered perspective.

Goldenberg: Resurrecting the Body

Goldenberg (1993) centered her analysis around a feminist interpretation of the male's
fear of castration. According to Goldenberg (1993), the fear of castration is an artifact of the
boy's loss of connection to the mother through the severing of the umbilical cord. Radically
disconnected from the mother, the boy develops a fear of the maternal and of his own ag-
gressive desire to return to the mother. The fear of castration is embedded in the original ex-
perience of dismemberment.
But what has this psychoanalytical theorizing to do with women's difficulty with mas-
culine images of the divine? Goldenberg (1993, p. 211) described the religious conse-
quence of the original traumatic experience of separation from the mother through the
severing of the umbilical cord as the development of a belief in a transcendent divine:
Transcendence is a wish for something beyond the body, beyond time, and beyond specific re-
lationships to life. Such a notion of perfect safety involves negation of this world and is probably
motivated by a characteristically (but not exclusively) male fear of being merged with matter. The-
ologians envision salvation as up, out, and beyond, and call this hoped-for state of dissociation the
ultimate reality.... In the course of Christian history, men have much preferred to promote [an1im-
age of suffering and agony instead of any image of love and playfulness such as that of Mary with
her baby.

Goldenberg (1993) saw the Platonic foundation of Western theologies, philosophies,

and most psychologies as providing the philosophical ground for the split between the body
and the spirit. Rather than seeing Platonic Forms (Spirit) as the place of ultimate reality,
Goldenberg argued that in the beginning, there was in fact not the dis-embodied heavenly
Word but the earthly Flesh. She grounded her thea-ology in the body, the human body. In
this regard, she also turned to object relations and more Freudian-oriented psychoanalytical
theory rather than, for example, to the archetypal, Platonic ideas of Jung (1969a, b, 1980).
Writes Goldenberg (1993, p. 207):
As women become more and more central to all branches of Western thought, the belief in the
transcendent entities will become less and less tenable. This is true, I suggest, because the tran-
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 255

scendent, the immaterial, and the metaphysical is actually the embodied, the physical, and the fe-
male. It is the exclusion of things female from philosophy, psychology, and theology which has
allowed these disciplines to construct notions of: abstract presence which creates the world and
then controls it.

Continuing her discussion, Goldenberg suggested that a bodily and femininely based
(though not exclusively a femininely experienced) ''transcendence'' might be experienced as
an intersubjective, embodied phenomenon, in which connection and life rather than separa-
tion and death are the key. Goldenberg's analysis undermines the classic Hellenistic Judeo-
Christian religious traditions and in fact also calls into question basic Western philosophical
asswnptions. Despite Goldenberg's (1993) provocative thought, it remains to be seen whether
in women's spiritual experiences there is in fact an embodied, life-oriented experience. Her
writing itself may be more wish than carnal reality. I shall review my empirical research of
women's psychospiritual development, my method, and findings. Finally, in my discussion, I
will reconsider in light of my findings the writings of Goldenberg and others.

METHOD

Subjects
Five women, ranging from 24 to 46 years of age, volunteered to participate in this
study. Two of the women were white, Roman Catholic, and married with children. One
woman was West Indian, an Anglican ministry student, and a single, celibate, lesbian
mother. Another woman of Lebanese descent was raised in an Orthodox Jewish family and
identified herself as a lesbian in a relationship. The fifth woman had been raised Roman
Catholic and as a child also attended a Methodist church. She joined a nondenominational
Christian charismatic church months before she entered the study. She identified herself as
a lesbian.

Procedure
The beginning chapters of this book set out the scope and foundations of phenomeno-
logical inquiry in psychology and present the case that phenomenological empirical meth-
ods allow for a rigorous study of hwnan experience as experienced. These chapters also
show how qualitative findings are structurally and psychologically informative, often com-
plementing the methods of our quantitatively oriented research cousins. In adopting a phe-
nomenological research approach, like other phenomenological researchers, I asswne
neither one particular theoretical psychospiritual stance nor a position of "objectivity." By
definition, the study ofhwnan experience is the study of subjective experience. Thus, rather
than arriving at "objective," ahistorical findings, by using a phenomenological method, my
research reveals a subjective, historically contextualized understanding of women's psy-
chospiritual development. With a phenomenological psychological approach, I have the
tools to examine the essential subjectivity of women's experiences.
The phenomenological-dialogal method I developed was a variation on methods de-
veloped by Fischer (1971,1988), Fischer and Wertz (1979), Giorgi (1970,1985) Halling and
Leifer (1991), Kunz, Clingaman, Kortsep, Kugler, and Park (1987), and von Eckartsberg
 256 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

(1971, 1986). I used a group format in which five women participated in three sequential
four-hour group discussions. Each of the first three group discussions became progressively
more analytical and structurally oriented, while concurrently building increasing levels of
trust and personal reflection in the group. A fourth group discussion, at the conclusion of the
project, provided an opportunity for additional dialogue and for a follow-up on the women's
continued development.
Prior to the first group discussion, I had received from the participants or co-
researchers their original written accounts of a situation in which they found it difficult to
pray to a masculine image of the divine and how, if at all, they resolved it. I reviewed these
accounts or protocols, inserted questions in the text where I wanted them to elaborate on
their experiences, and sent these protocols with my questions back to the women for them
to review and to consider their responses prior to group discussion I. In the first group dis-
cussion, they read their protocols aloud, including in these accounts their responses to my
questions. In this meeting, they listened attentively to each others' experiences. In the sec-
ond group discussion, we reviewed together my preliminary analysis of the data to the
level of narratives with highlighted themes. We continued to clarify aspects of their indi-
vidual experiences, identified and discussed general themes, and imagined other situations
in which this experience might occur. In the third group discussion, we reviewed the gen-
eral structure that I had formulated from all of the data, including their individual proto-
cols, the narratives, and the group discussions. I asked the participants to review the
general structure for understandability and for internal and external validity. I asked them
to consider the following questions: Did this general structure articulate the essential con-
stituents and structure of their individual experiences? Did the structure elucidate the ex-
perience as a whole and any variation that we could imagine of that experience? For our
fourth and final group discussion, we met to celebrate the completion of the project and to
follow up on how they had continued to grow and develop in the 2 112 years since I had be-
gun to work with them.
Below are two original protocols describing experiences of finding it difficult to pray
to masculine images of the divine. These accounts do not include information gained in the
group discussions; nevertheless, they are representative of both the kinds of accounts writ-
ten by the women in this study and the basic nature of the experience of finding it difficult,
as women, to pray to a masculine image of the divine.

RESULTS

Claire's Original ProtocoP

About five years ago, Sacred Heart Church, in the afternoon, a side altar, dominated by a
cross, with Jesus, the man, hanging, well built, only a loincloth for covering. (There is, in the back-
ground mural, Mother Seton, in white, virginal, young woman, on her knees, supplicating a Priest.
As usual, I was depressed.)
Kneeling, and I allowed to fully form in my thoughts, and knowing that I found the image of
Jesus, the man, interfering. I began to wonder, think about what was underneath the loincloth-a
visual image of penis-Jesus as man. Did Jesus get aroused? Was his penis limp in death? What

lClaire's writing style is a composite of prose and poetry. Except where clarification seemed necessary, I chose not
to edit her protocol.
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 257

was the nature of man/Jesus to woman, Claire? How did sex enter into prayer-was it a factor?
Who was this Jesus I prayed to? Could I pray to an alive, virile Jesus? Did I want to? Bottom line,
I think was [that] I allowed the image in-[I allowed in] the fullness of this body and its multiple
ramifications to me as a praying woman. The upshot-the Presence of the Spirit? The Presence of
God-laughter and a pigeon pooping on the image. Normalizing the icon, my thoughts-a balm,
a blessing, an opening. "It is perfectly OK-this line of thought, this inquiry, this interference and
at the same time, because this is not it, at all." This experience basically opened the door for me to
play with image-MotherlFather Mystery God. Go back and forth.

Miriam's Original Protocol

The last time I chose to attend services at the Orthodox synagogue to which my family be-
longed was the first time I remember a clear inability to pray to a male deity-namely God. So
many other memories from my youth have disappeared, and yet this one is very clear.
I was wearing one of my better shuul-going dresses, a black smock-type affair with a lace col-
lar and a print of red and pink roses scattered over it. It was a perfect Fall dress, which was appro-
priate since it was Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement which comes at the end of the Jewish
Year, somewhere around late September/early October. Yom Kippur is perhaps the most sacred of
the Jewish holidays (it is one of the "High Holidays"); Jews fast beginning at sundown the night be-
fore, and spend most of the day in shuul praying for good fortune in the coming year and asking
forgiveness for mistakes made in the past.
I was especially excited this Yom Kippur as I had decided to fast the way the adults did, mean-
ing no food and no water. (I figured that since I had been Bas Mitzvahed about a year earlier, I was,
according to Jewish tradition, a "woman.") To me this symbolized an attempt to move closer to a
faith about which I had always had a high degree of ambivalence. I was known in my Hebrew School
as one who frequently interrupted class with questions such as "How do we know there is a God" or
"Why do we hate the Arabs so much?" I always looked forward to Passover, and yet the plague idea
bothered me a great deal. I loved Purim and yet ran into trouble when I wanted to dress up as Haman.
(Purim is the Jewish child's Halloween; everyone dresses up as a character in one of the famous sto-
ries of the Jews'liberation from oppression. Girls almost always dress as Ester, the womon4 [sic]
who saved her people, and boys as Haman, the evil oppressor-for-the-King.) I engaged in a contin-
ual tug-of-war with, Judaism, never quite able to make a place for myself within its boundaries.
However, on some level I knew that although Judaism didn't necessarily call me, I needed a spir-
itual connection in my life. Since Christianity had never seemed to me to be anything more than a
flimsy excuse for a religion, and also because I was not aware of any other real options, Judaism was
my only choice. So I took it, considering Yom Kippur to be an appropriate time for a new beginning.
I walked to Shuul that day feeling very pious-I remember entering this feeling of piety as if
I had folded myself into a robe. It felt very comfortable and safe: very familiar. Once in the build-
ing, I walked upstairs to the main room where services were being held. I opened the door on the
left (men and womyn sit separately from each other in Orthodox congregations: at Share Torah
womyn sat on the left side of a glass wall, and men on the right) and walked up the aisle to my seat.
I was alone in my row; my mother and sister had chosen not to come to services, and I don't re-
member where my father was-probably somewhere on the other side of the wall.
I picked up the siddur (prayer book) and tried to figure out what prayer they were on. Failing
to do that, I decided to just flip through the book and read the prayers-I felt that the sounds of dav-
ening (praying) voices all around me were inspirational enough to create a holy space, and would
seep into my consciousness in some way. I argued as long as I was reading something relevant, I
would still be sharing the experience.
So I read. The siddur quickly proved to be rather boring so I switched to a copy of the Old Tes-
tament which I found lying on the bench next to me. Turning to Deuteronomy (why, I don't know),
I again read. It was at this time that things began to go wrong.
All of a sudden my eyes were swimming in Lords and Gods and hes and hims. Every name was
a man's name. Every experience was a man's experience. Feeling more and more uncomfortable, I

4Miriam used the term womon for "woman" and womyn for "women" to distance these feminine referents from the
masculine root man. The plural "womyn" is also found in the New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (Brown,
1993) as a nonstandard alternative to the word ''women.'' I adopted these terms in describing one of the adult ex-
perientially based spiritualities, using the phrase "womon-centered." For a feminist philosophical discussion of
these terms, see Hoagland (1988).
 258 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

raised my eyes to look around me, and my discomfort turned to mild anger as I realized, really real-
ized, that here I was on the womyn s side. The womyn around me were chattering and gossiping,
mostly sitting on their benches, while the men on the other side of the glass were up and swaying,
heads bent, davening up a storm. What the hell was going on? "Either I should be over there, or that
damn barrier should come down," was pretty much exactly what I thought. As crossing over was
prohibited, and the wall was there to stay, I decided to try to find a more agreeable section of the
bible in which I could lose myself. Here came the final blow: I couldn'tfind a more agreeable sec-
tion. Throughout the entire book, it was him him him. And a connection was made in an unmistak-
able, very specific way. This god was a man. Pure and simple. It was clear to me, in that moment,
that this book was not using male pronouns to talk about God as a matter of convenience, as I had
been taught; this book was telling me that God = man. Further, there was no room for womon. I had
enough of a sense of my self as female by this time that I clearly felt rejected, scorned and rendered
invisible by this male god.
As a last ditch effort, I called up my previously (vaguely) comforting father-image which I had
created for myself as God and it only angered me further. I wasted no more time. I stood up and
walked out. Within a week I told my parents I wouldn't be returning. Within a few years I found the
book "The Moon and the Virgin" which introduced me to the concept of the feminine spirituality.
This book truly called to me from the shelf of a used bookstore; it put words to the awe I felt at the
sight of the full moon.
Since then I have followed a winding path to the Goddess, and I have explored varied nature-
based religions as ways of bringing myself closer to Her. A decade later my father-image has been
erased from my mind and I see my deity as female. I feel truly blessed to have been able to break
my chains to a male god at such an early age, and thank, the Goddess daily for this gift.

General Structure
From qualitative analysis of these accounts and the three others in the study, and from
analysis of information gained during the group discussions, I formulated a general struc-
ture of the experience of finding it difficult to pray to a masculine image of the divine. In
the general structure, aspects of women's psychospiritual paths before, during, and after
finding it difficult to pray to masculine images of the divine are highlighted. I illustrate the
essential elements of women's pathmaking, that is, how in childhood the beginnings of their
paths, their spiritual beliefs, are influenced by their families and religious communities, and
how these beginnings are then inextricably linked later to women's choices of direction and
their adult experientially based spiritualities.
The experience of finding it difficult to pray to a masculine image of the divine for the
five women of this study, raised in the Judeo-Christian tradition, arose after years of in-
volvement in and active questioning of their religious traditions and communities. The ex-
perience involved three phases. The first phase, growing up in a religious tradition,
included learning androcentric religious images, questioning traditional religious tenets and
practices, and learning that females are seen as "less than" males. This phase also included
the experience of domination by male authorities. These women, as girls, understood them-
selves as different from others and developed an empathic awareness of specific socially
marginalized groups. These foundational experiences and understandings provided the
ground from which later questioning and growth emerged.
The second phase, awakening to the gender of their Gods and the gradual realization
of the personal implications of the recognition of their Gods'male gender, began in a spe-
cific historical context, either in prayer alone or with others, either in a traditional place of
worship or in another environment. At a time of profound emotional and interpersonal tur-
moil, these women sought solace, guidance, or a meaningful connection with their Gods.
Failing to receive the attentiveness or comfort that they sought from their Gods, they be-
came aware of the maleness of their divine images. Their explicit awareness of their Gods'
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 259

maleness and their gradual or sudden implicit or explicit awareness of the social construc-
tion of their images of the divine, as well as their awareness of their own femaleness, mark
the turning point in their relationships to their Gods and to themselves.
The quality of these relational shifts in the awakening process and the affect they ex-
perienced and perceived in their Gods delineated two distinct paths of awakening. The frrst
path, relating mutually, was characterized by one woman's shift in the quality of the rela-
tionship with the divine from a childlike request for assistance to two adults relating recip-
rocally. Affectively, this woman experienced a shift from feeling fearful and depressed to
feeling a sense of openness and humor. On the second awakening path, relating angrily and
willfolly, four of the women, after recognizing their Gods' gender and experiencing them as
contrary to their expectations, renewed their efforts to make their Gods respond as they
wished. This unrequited second effort was followed by feelings of shame or of being
flawed, to which these women responded by angrily withdrawing from the religious context
and from the relationship with their Gods. They angrily refused further engagement with
their traditional religious communities and images and/or disengaged from all spiritual con-
texts and relationships. Having separated from their traditions, these four women found
themselves facing a choice of two other paths: the path that continued away from religion
and spirituality and the path that reconnected with religion and/or spirituality. The three
women who chose the second path, like the woman who related mutually, developed their
own adult spiritualities.
In the third phase,forming an experientially based adult spirituality, four of the five
women continued to develop spiritual relationships in their lives, but on their own terms.
Three evolving spiritualities were based on the women's embodied experiences of relating
mutually to their Gods/Goddesses/sacred processes and on imaginary variation: (1) devel-
oping a "womon·centered" spirituality, exclusive of male images; (2) allowing a family of
images, with male/female and gender-free images; and (3) creating or adopting a gender-free
spirituality, including entire relinquishment of a belief in the divine. Their experiences of em-
bodied self-authority and self-acceptance also highlighted a transformation of childhood ex-
periences of "feeling less than males," "different," or "dominated by male authorities." The
adult experientially based spiritualities reflected important relationships in the women's lives
(including, for some women, relationships to males) and were characterized by specific qual-
ities of mutuality, namely, choice of one's image of the divine based on one's own embodied
life experiences, bringing one's whole self into relationship emotionally, physically, sensu-
ally, and spiritually, and reciprocity within diverse communicative styles.
For all five women in this study, the experience of finding it difficult to pray to a mas-
culine image of the divine was essentially a recognition that their childhood images of God
were too constrictive for their growing sense of themselves as adults. As they developed an
embodied whole sense of self, their images of the divine also expanded in both image and re-
lational capacities. The evolving process of self-other understandings led them to see that they
will never again believe in God the Father or Jesus in the same manner that they once did.

EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL REFLECTIONS AND DISCUSSION

In this section, we will consider closely the paths of women's psychospiritualjourneys

before, during, and after finding it difficult to pray to a male God. We will see how traditional
theories both help and hinder our understanding of women's psychospiritual experiences.
260 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

Growing Up in a Religious Tradition

For all the women in my research, their psychospiritual paths began in childhood. (I
had explicitly recruited women who were "raised in" Judeo-Christian traditions.) Religious
beliefs were focal to their families' sense of family. Each woman belonged to a family, and
the family belonged to a religious community. They were "cradle" Anglicans, Catholics, or
Jews. As is probably a common experience for most children, they were not given a choice
in childhood among many religious traditions or images of the divine. For these women, the
absence of choice about religious beliefs early in life would figure prominently in the de-
velopment of their adult spiritualities. Their childhood worlds were relationally complex
and yet were also simply dichotomous. The complexity of their world included intimate and
conflicted relationships with parents, siblings, and grandparents, among others. There were,
however, those who were given more power and privilege at birth and those who were given
less authority and power from birth. The women, as girls, learned that men are more em-
powered by the world than are women. As Pam, a participant, said, "Being a female was a
mark against me when I was born."

Masculine Images of the Divine, Male Authorities,

and the Meaning of Being a Girl
As Allport (1950) and Fowler (1981) suggested, childhood images of the divine are
most often anthropomorphized and "magical." One's early images are consistent with de-
veloping systems of beliefs that initially place authority outside oneself in God, parents, and
other socially recognized authorities. In my research, despite the attempts by women, as
girls, to question traditional religious tenets, images, and practices, genera)ly they accepted
the predominantly male images of the divine that were given to them, as well as the gender
role stereotypes within their religious practices. Similar to the aforecited insights of black
(Cone, 1970; Jones, 1987) and feminist theologians (Geller, 1983; Ronon et aI., 1986;
Spretnak, 1982), the women in my research developed restricted or thwarted senses of
themselves consistent with cultural and familial teachings and values about women in soci-
ety. The male God was the supreme authority in a patriarchal world, that is, a world that was
perceived and presented as hierarchically organized with primarily males holding positions
of authority, power, and privilege. As Miriam described her childhood image of the divine:
That father image was totally out of a book, an old, white, man-in-the-sky, long flowing beard,
flowing white robe, like the Sistine Chapel, total Dad image .... it was almost exactly, "He'll take
care of everything. It's in his hands."

From my research, I cannot assert that obeying external religious authorities is exclu-
sively a gender-related aspect of these women's psychospiritual development. However,
submitting to religious authority while also developing in a context in which, as a girl, one
was aware of oneself as "being less than" or perceived as "less than" males impeded the
women's developing sense of self-authority. The women in my study recalled having per-
ceived their grandmothers, mothers, other women, or themselves as submissive, compliant,
or valued less than males in their own home, in their religious community, or in other social
contexts. Added to this dimension of seeing oneself as "less than males" was religious au-
thorities' outright rejection of the women's assertion of critical thought, even when they
were not being held in comparison with male others. These religious authorities were not
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 261

exclusively males; female religious authorities also dismissed or refused to respectfully ac-
knowledge the budding critical thinking of the young girls. The women's overt expression
of their individual perspectives as children on religious tenets and stories were thwarted. As
an example of this dynamic, here is a quote from Claire:
I was in the second or third grade asking a question and it was probably one of the most inter-
esting questions I ever asked. I remember asking it in class and the question was shocking to this
Catholic school nun that I said it. It was about Jesus and the story they were telling us. I think it was
really asked in innocence. I think I was real interested and the response I got was, you just don't
do that in this class.

In summary, being a girl carried specific meanings for women who would later find it
difficult to pray to masculine images of the divine. Growing up in their Judeo-Christian fa-
milial traditions suggested to these women as girls that to be female meant to be more re-
stricted and have less opportunities than males. Being a child meant not to question
religious authority. Examples of exclusions based solely on gender included not being per-
mitted to be on the bema (altar) at the synagogue or to speak the prayers aloud, not being
permitted to serve as acolytes, not being permitted to play cricket, and not envisioning one-
self as the hero in children's stories because the heroes were all males. In addition, each of
the women, as girls, experienced at least one experience, though typically multiple experi-
ences, of older males misusing their authority by physically, sexually, or emotionally harm-
ing them.

A Fragmented Self: Being Sexual or Being Spiritual

As others thwarted their curious, active, questioning involvement in the world and dis-
criminated against them as women, the women in my study, as girls, felt increasingly "dif-
ferent," "fragmented," or "split off." They experienced themselves as fragmented in two
distinct ways. First, they split off their reflective selves from their active selves, experienc-
ing an incongruity between their thoughts and their actions. As we saw in the example cited
above from Claire's experience in the second grade, they learned to refrain from expressing
their dissenting or curious thoughts about their religious beliefs. Second, when they expe-
rienced sexual desires or an awareness of their sexual interests in religious or spiritual rela-
tional contexts, they also felt a sense of bodily fragmentation, of bodily shutting down.
These specific findings are not necessarily gender-related. In other words, it could
well be that boys might experience a fragmentation in self-experience, a splitting of their
thoughtful, inquisitive selves from their actively, questioning selves. Furthermore, boys
might also develop a psychological split of their spiritual selves from their sexual selves.
Future research will have to clarify whether this splitting is in fact gender-related. Never-
theless, these two essential constituents offragmentation-(l) the dissenting, curious, and
inquisitive self as distinct from an active, social self and (2) a polarization of one's spiritual
self and one's sexual self-rang true through all religious contexts in the women's proto-
cols. To be spiritual in childhood, and often well into adulthood, means to be passive and ac-
cepting, not attending to oneself in one's wholeness, cognitively, sensually, and spiritually.
Alison, who struggled from childhood to reconcile her homosexuality with her sense of
herself as a spiritual person, described the sexual/spiritual conflict most poignantly:
That's why it's hard for me to pray. I just get a block. I can't do it. I don't know what to do
about it. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to because of my sexual preference, [if] I'm allowed to do that,
 262 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

to pray. I'm so scared right now. I'm not sure I'm allowed to pray or even how to do it. This situa-
tion is hard because I am a spiritual person.

Early in their lives, the women in my research learned to split off their experience of
themselves as sexual beings from their experiences of themselves as spiritual beings. Both
Allport (1950) and Fowler (1981) held that "self sacrifice" and the neglect of bodily needs in
the service of a higher principle or cause were evidence of a more mature spirituality. Lis-
tening to the experience of women, we learn that this splitting off of dimensions of one's ex-
periences brought with it a feeling of fragmentation, of an uncomfortable distance from one's
own bodily experience. Perhaps these experiences might help to foster the "higher princi-
ples" in the more "mature" spiritually developed individuals of which Allport (1950) and
Fowler (1981) have written. For example, in my study, from these disempowered and frag-
mented experiences of self, women developed a sense of empathy for others. They learned to
broaden their own perspective of the experience of being thwarted to include other margin-
alized groups who also suffered discrimination. Claire gave a telling example of her own ex-
perience of both discriminating against and empathizing with another marginalized person:
I remember very early being aware of others. I grew up in the South and racism was out there
and visible. I can remember, I must have been four years old, and we did these skits. Somebody
blackened my face. I was going to do something, dancing, perform in some way. One of the Black
women, who was at the youth center, was watching the performance. I realized I was just appalled
that I was doing what I was doing. I can remember going to her and apologizing. I remember going
to this woman and asking her to forgive me. This woman's response was that it was okay. I was al-
ways aware of this stuff.

This finding of women's tendency to develop empathy for others based on their own expe-
rience of disempowerment helps us to understand how it is that women develop empathy for
others, but at what cost? According to my research, the cost in childhood is that of seeing
themselves, or of believing that others perceive them, as "less than" males. This founda-
tional childhood experience of the imbalance of power between the genders lies at the heart
of the turning point in praying to a male God.

Turning Point: In a Context of Interpersonal Turmoil,

Seeking Solace or Guidance from One's God

The women in my research found it difficult to pray to a masculine image of the divine
when they approached prayer with a profound desire to connect with this Other in a time
of great turmoil. In prayer in this moment, they sought solace, guidance, forgiveness, or ac-
ceptance from a Father or Jesus, believing He should and would offer His kindness or guid-
ance. Prayer was an attempt on their part to have their emotional turmoil addressed or
redressed. The women turned to their powerful, male Gods for assistance. As we reviewed
above, Allport (1950) and Fowler (1981) suggested that early in psychospiritual develop-
ment, one locates authority outside oneself. Allport (1950) astutely pointed out that most
adults retain this childhood belief in external spiritual authorities. For some women in my
research, this experience of the divine as external and "magical" did continue well into their
adulthood. All of the women in my research at the time of finding it difficult to pray to a
masculine image of the divine, whether in adolescence or adulthood, approached their Gods
as they had in childhood; they petitioned Him as an external authority for assistance. They
awaited His helpful response.
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 263

Their prayer concerned interpersonal turmoil in their lives. One woman recounted a
profound loneliness and a desire to connect with her God and her religious community in a
meaningful way as a teenager. Another described the need for comfort following a sexual
assault. Another sought comfort following a threatened physical assault, which evoked
traumatic memories of childhood. A fourth woman desired guidance after the emergence of
memories of childhood sexual assaults and prior to revealing her lesbianism to her mother.
The fifth woman sought acceptance following a rape, the loss of a close friend, who
accepted her lesbianism, and the rejection of her church community because of her sexual
orientation.
In prayer, God's maleness became thematic and problematic. As Claire wrote: "What
was the nature of man/Jesus to woman, Claire?" His maleness obstructed their desires to be
comforted, to be accepted, to feel connected. The male image became known to them
through the use of masculine pronouns in prayer, through stories pertaining primarily to the
experiences of men, through the names Father and Lord, through the bodily image of a male
deity, or through the presence (sometimes in the role of intermediaries) of male clergy. Rec-
ognizing God's maleness meant recognizing that God's maleness was constructed within a
particular social context in which men were more privileged than were women. As Miriam
succinctly wrote, "God = man."
The awareness of the social construction of the gender of the male God made explicit
the previously unacknowledged imbalance of power in the relationship. Where once they
prayed to God the Father/Jesus to make things all right, now they recognized that He was a
male and not responding to their petitions as they had expected. Equally important as the
recognition of the social construction of God's male gender was the recognition of the
meaning of being female. The explicit or implicit understanding of the relation of gender
and power, and the instantiation of this power relation in one's childhood image of the di-
vine, marked the turning point in women's difficulty with male images. We will see in the
spiritualities some of the women eventually created that their new God/dess/sacred
processes would share authority with them rather than maintain the imbalance of power
present in their childhood beliefs in male Gods. Their experientially based spiritual rela-
tionships enjoyed collaboration rather than one-sided obedience, submission, and petition.
Before elaborating on their experientially based spiritualities, let us first consider in more
detail the paths that led to their developing new spiritualities or, for some of the women, for-
feiting all spiritualities.

Relating Mutually or Relating Angrily and Willfully

Once the women recognized the social construction of their male Gods and the sig-
nificance of their being female in a male-privileged social milieu, their paths diverged.
Claire's protocol is illustrative of the path of relating mutually. Miriam's protocol is an ex-
ample of relating angrily and willfully.
At the first fork in the road of women's paths in finding it difficult to pray to a mascu-
line image of the divine, surprisingly, it was not God's gender that dictated whether or not
the relationship would continue. Rather, it was the experienced closeness of one's male God
to one's lived world. If the women experienced God the Father/Jesus as interested in her
as a woman, then the relationship grew in mutuality and in ways previously unforeseen by
the women themselves. For Claire and for women like her, the first step in developing a
 264 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

relationship of mutuality was to become interested in God's "humanity." It was Claire who
first "leveled the playing field" of the perceived power in her relationship with her God.
Claire, the woman, disrobed Jesus, the man. Claire imaged Jesus in his naked humanity.
Claire acted and, by the very nature of her act, assumed power as a woman. Her power was not
a power over her male God, but an empowered stance with her God, in mutual attraction. It is
important to note that for Claire and for women like her, imaging the divine in alternative
ways included imaging her male God in ways that she had not previously experienced Him.
How could Claire have acted from this empowered position so suddenly when other
women did not? Two interrelated psychological constituents made this shift possible. First,
a woman must attend to her embodied experience-literally attune to her senses and herself
as a woman. Second, through this newly embodied presence in a spiritual relational context,
she must cognitively broaden her understanding of her relational experience of herself and
her divine Other. For example, Claire consciously attended to the detail of the maleness of
her God and to herself as a woman. She also attended to the wider context in which her ex-
perience unfolded. For Claire, this wider context included the experience of seeing a bird
defecate on a statue of Jesus. In that moment, the Jesus image her religious community, her
family, and she had constructed collapsed. By humorously and openly attending to her own
and Jesus' detailed embodiment, that is, by literally seeing and experiencing what bad been
previously ignored (Jesus's virility, her femininity, the revealing of images as mere images),
Claire widened her relational perspective. By being in her body, by attuning to the possi-
bility of sexual arousal in a spiritual relationship, she broadened her own and her divine
Other's relational, including affective, capacity. She experienced herself and the Other as
sensual, humorous, respectful, passionate, and open ... as all things and experiences.
In contrast to the openness and good humor on the path of relating mutually, women
who embarked on another path felt angry and willful toward their Gods. These women ex-
perienced their Gods as disinterested, condescending, and distant. Unlike Claire, the angrily
and willfully relating women did not experience an affirmation of their femininity in rela-
tion to their male Gods. At first, in response to their Gods' indifference, the women tried to
further appease them. Initially, they maintained the divine-human, male-female, power-
ful-powerless imbalance that was prominent in the structure of their spiritual relationships
in childhood. Only after years of withdrawal and self-exploration were they able to move
beyond the angry withdrawal to a more mutual and empowering relationship to the divine.
However, one of the women in my study stayed on this path of angry withdrawal, separated
from spiritual relationships and religious contexts, skeptical that she would ever have a spir-
itual relationship again. This choice of refusal to engage spiritually is an essential possibil-
ity for women who have difficulty praying to a masculine image of the divine. For other
women, whose leave from spirituality was only temporary, the possibility of a mutual rela-
tionship with the divine began when they were invited back to spirituality by other women.
These invitations (sometimes in the form of books) included alternative images of the di-
vine accentuating explicitly feminine experiences.

Experientially Based Adult Spiritualities

The essential constituents of an adult spirituality for women who have had difficulty
praying to a masculine image of the divine are a profound self-acceptance as a woman and
an understanding of spirituality and religion on their own terms, according to their own life
WOMEN'S DIFFICUlTIES IN PRAYING TO AMALE GOD 265

experiences. In contrast to asking for assistance from a God/Goddess or a spiritual process

located solely outside the self, these women developed a sense of the divine or of a spiritual
process within themselves. In childhood, each woman had felt different from others, outside
the mainstream. In practicing their adult experientially based spiritualities, the quality of
their self-acceptance emphasized an appreciation of themselves as a woman. This enjoy-
ment of their femininity often explicitly related to the healing ofa traumatic childhood ex-
perience (the abuse of male authority) or limiting self-perceptions. In addition, they
explicitly highlighted a welcoming of their sexualities. Fundamentally, these women came
to a different understanding of themselves, their engendered, embodied experiences, their
own sexual desires and spiritual relationships. The experiences of the divine within and the
freedom to embrace their sexualities carried with them a sense of personal wholeness, a
coming together of previously fragmented senses of self.

The Role of Choice, Embodied Gender, and Reciprocity

in Developing Spiritual Relationships of Mutuality
Mutuality in adult spiritual relationships was characterized by three prominent fea-
tures. First, the women chose their divine images on the basis of their own embodied life ex-
periences and relationships. Second, they brought their whole selves to the relationship,
including their sensual, sexual, embodied femininity and authority. Third, their spiritual
relationship emphasized reciprocity but within diverse communicative styles, such as play-
fulness, conversation, and eroticism, I will discuss in more depth each of these characteris-
tics of mutuality within adult experientially based spiritualities.
Mutuality in the context of these spiritual relationships involved choice. Following dif-
ficulty with their childhood male images of the divine, the women, as adults, embraced im-
ages that best represented their experiences of themselves and relationships of primary
importance to them. Adult spiritualities involved being agents in their spiritual relation-
ships. In contrast to childhood, in which images were given to them, in adulthood, they were
consciously involved in the development of their divine images and of beliefs congruous
with these images. They chose and created their images from their broader life experiences
with their Gods/Goddesses/sacred processes, lovers, friends, family, and nature, and with
their abstractions about life itself.
For the women in my research-indeed, it would seem, for many who, raised in tra-
ditional Judeo-Christian religions, choose images of the divine based on their own em-
bodied experience-the act of choosing one's divine image is no small psychological or
spiritual task. This shift of authority from outside oneself to within oneself is similar to the
findings on psychospiritual development of Allport (1950) and Fowler (1981), but differ-
ent in at least one important way. In my findings, what Fowler (1981) termed the "execu-
tive ego" is an embodied executive ego. Through the crisis of women finding it difficult
to pray to a male image of the divine, self-authority became not only a conscious choice
but also an embodied consciousness, an act of self-authority. The exercising of an embod-
ied authority calls into question the Hellenistic Judeo-Christian tradition of a body/spirit
split (Boyarin, 1993; Underhill, 1961). Embodied feminine authority within a spiritual
context also addresses the gendered role models in religious traditions of women as less
than men (Boyarin, 1993; Goldenberg, 1993). The fall of God the Father as transcendent,
distant, and without gender happened as women became aware of their own bodies and of
266 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

the "divinity" of their own bodies. All of the women in my study included feminine images
of the divine in their adult spiritualities, though their divine images were not always ex-
clusively feminine.
Experiencing themselves as embodied women, while being spiritual, meant attending
to themselves as sensual and sexual beings. They accepted being lustful and experiencing
bodily pleasure, while concurrently affirming their being spiritual. As Claire described: "I
can be prayerful in sexuality with my husband now. In a way that I could not have before
this experience. That was shut off." Unlike the Hellenistic Judeo-Christian tradition and
similar to the Indian Tantric tradition, sexuality is welcomed, in fact incarnated, in the rela-
tional domain of the spiritual.
Finally, the experience of mutuality in their adult spiritualities assumed different com-
municative styles that all involved reciprocity. For Claire, relating to her male God with its
erotic overtones involved a reciprocal attraction of her God toward her. Claire's account also
resembled mystical experiences described by Teresa of Avila (Ramge, 1963), Fowler
(1981), and Randour (1987). Moreover, Fowler's (1981) Universalizing Stage involved an
individual's capacity to endorse seemingly opposite poles of a dialectic. He likened one's at-
titude in this stage to that of the acceptance of emerging unconscious material, a knowing
and not knowing that is ever opening oneself to paradoxical truths. The paradoxical quality
of this relationship also holds true for the women in my study. Paradox within a context of
mutuality or reciprocity characterizes Randour's (1987) mystical women's sense of being
one with and yet distinct from the divine. For the women in Randour's research, this one-
ness was not a handing over of one's authority to God. Likewise in my research, there is
paradox within the oneness, as Claire wrote:
I no longer understand what other is, no longer have solid images, rather the possibility of all
images, all concepts, all thoughts .... We are all god.

Relating mutually with their new images of the divine leveled the previous hierarchically
structured spiritual relationships and essentially contributed to the women's experience of
self-authority, a sense of being whole, of being the ground of their own existence.
Van Kaam's (1975) assertion that the experience of finding it difficult to pray to a
masculine image of the divine is a phenomenon characteristic of an immature spiritual-
ity, of the "infraconsciousness" mode of the "body-self," is descriptively false when
compared to my data (van Kaam, 1975, p. 112). It rings false when we consider matu-
rity as based on a "spirit-self" or "supraconsciousness" disembodied from the infracon-
sciousness of the body-self (van Kaam, 1975, p. 112). Women, like the mystical women
in Randour's (1987) research, who lived their lives undisturbed by the gender of God the
Father, are not more mature or immature than women who, after finding it difficult to
pray to a masculine image of the divine, relate to more diverse images. I believe the psy-
chospiritual maturity of a woman might be better understood by considering, among
other characteristics, her acceptance of herself (as an embodied, spiritual, sexual, rela-
tional authority) and the quality of her relationship to the divine. Only as some women
transform the obstacle of God the Father or Jesus into broader or other (including femi-
nine) images do they step toward further self-growth, authority, and acceptance. More
recent research on spiritual relationships concurs with this possibility of spiritual rela-
tionships as embodied and/or collaborative (Fox, 1981; Jackson & Coursey, 1988; Parga-
ment et aI., 1988).
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO AMALE GOD 267

I will now briefly outline the three subtypes of adult spiritualities the women devel-
oped. These spiritualities are understood to be evolving and fluid, changing with the advent
of new life experiences and self-understandings.

Forging a Womon-Centered Spirituality

All of the women who developed adult spiritualities included feminine images of the
divine in their new spiritualities. In the womon-centered spirituality, however, these divine
images were exclUSively feminine. Negatively judgmental of anything masculine, womon-
centered spirituality evolved in the experience of two of the women in my research. Their
spiritualities reflected their important life relationships as lesbians. In Miriam's words:
I associate with the Goddess a natural way of living. I don't associate a patriarchal God with
walking in the woods at all. To my perception that's not where that happens. It doesn't happen there
but the femaleness happens there. I really do make that kind of black and white distinction. It hasn't
gone beyond gender. It's very womon, womon, womon. I can't include men anywhere. All nature
has the female gender.

Like the other adult experientially based spiritualities, the womon-centered spirituality em-
phasized choice based on the experience of being women, that is, being embodied, gen-
dered persons. This kind of spirituality drew its images from women's life experiences, of
themselves as women, of other women, of nature, and other dimensions oflife. Finally, sim-
ilarly to the other adult experientially based spiritualities, the womon-centered spirituality
was characterized by a self-other process of mutuality, in which the women felt themselves
to be full partners in the relationship.

Allowing a Family of Images

Those women in my research who maintained masculine images of the divine did so
only by broadening their original experiences of their male Gods and by including other
diverse images of the divine, like Mother/Father, Sister/Brother, Mystery/Absurdity. Al-
lowing a diversity of images more accurately represented the relationships and experiences
that were significant to these women. These included relationships with their parents, their
spouses/partners, their siblings, children, and friends. This broadening of images also re-
flected their experiences of life itself-absurdity, surprise, mystery. For the women of this
type of spirituality, questioning their relationships with their male Gods did not necessitate
a "letting go" of that relationship. Rather, they found ways to broaden their relational
spheres to include new understandings of familiar male images, while also adding entirely
new feminine and abstract relationships.
Maintaining male images of the divine in no way forfeited the essential constituents of
choice, of self-acceptance of one's whole sensual, feminine, spiritual being, and of reci-
procity. As Claire's protocol exemplified, one might become aware of one's own feminine
gender and embodied authority in relation to a male image of the divine. Claire felt her
sense of self-affirmation and self-will in this regard no less than did those women who
imaged feminine images of the divine. What shifted for Claire with respect to her male im-
age of the divine was her sense of choice. She chose this new male image among many
other images newly available to her. She also rooted this image in her sense of herself as a
woman. Furthermore, this newly expanded male image was "closer" to her, sensually real,
268 KATHLEEN MULRENIN

"really real" and present to her in a way that was mutually respectful and affirming of her
sense of herself as a woman.

Creating or Adopting a Gender-Free Spirituality

A third alternative to androcentric images of the divine offers a spirituality free of an-
thropomorphic images and therefore also free of gender. This finding was based on data in
my research and on existing literature. In keeping with the formulated constituents of adult
experientially based spiritualities, this kind of spirituality includes the three prominent char-
acteristics of mutuality: (1) choice; (2) being present with one's whole self, sensually, sex-
ually, spiritually, and relationally; and (3) experiencing a reciprocity within a diversity of
communicative styles. The "images" of this spirituality, however, are not of gendered be-
ings but of what I have termed sacred processes. Claire's use of the word "mystery" or "ab-
surdity" is a reflection of dynamic processes in life in which one may participate, to which
one might relate, without identifYing specific gendered beings to whom one is relating. Zen
Buddhism might be a spirituality to which women would tum following difficulty praying
to a masculine image of the divine-although from the data collected in this study, it would
be essential that the practice of Zen for some women include the characteristics of choice,
of an affirmation of self, body, mind, and spirit, and a sense of reciprocity within the sacred
process. Creationism, as Fox (1981) envisions it, rather than as the fundamentalist Chris-
tians see it, would also be an example ofa modem spirituality that is not necessarily gender-
focused. Fox (1981) includes an affirmation of the embodied, sensual-spiritual self in his
understanding of spirituality.

SUMMARY

As the data suggest, the experience of finding it difficult to pray to a masculine image
of the divine is essentially a phenomenon of a woman's developing an awareness of the so-
ciocultural significance of gender and its impact on her psychospiritual development. As
children, these women, raised in Judeo-Christian traditions, believed in a male God who
would take care of them or who would respond authoritatively to their pleas for assistance.
As children, they understood themselves as females to be seen as "less than males."
Through the experience of turning to their male Gods in a time of interpersonal turmoil,
and experiencing these Gods as not responding to them in the manner in which they had
hoped, they were opened to new understandings of the gender of their male Gods and the
sociocultural significance of gender. Through the process of finding it difficult to pray to a
masculine image of the divine, the women in this study developed more affirming senses of
self and self-authorities rooted in their experience and acceptance of themselves as women.
Most of the women in the study continued to develop spiritual relationships beyond their
experience of difficulty with their male Gods. In their new spiritualities, they defined their
spiritual images and relationships on their own terms, based on their own relational experi-
ences. The shift in spiritual authority from an external, male authority to a mutually em-
powering relationship with a being (male or female) or sacred process (without gender) was
essential to this phenomenon. The shift in authority from an external locus to an internal 10-
cus has been documented in previous studies on psychospiritual development. What this
WOMEN'S DIFFICULTIES IN PRAYING TO A MALE GOD 269

study also highlights, however, is a kind of spirituality overlooked or underemphasized not

only in psychological research but also within the studies of religion and spirituality, that is,
the experience and importance of embodied spiritualities. Traditionally, affirmation of gen-
der, or more primordially, of the sensual, sexual body, within spiritual contexts has been dis-
couraged or even denigrated. In the structural analysis of the experience of women who
have difficulty praying to masculine images of the divine, in addition to developing a
deeper understanding of women's psychospiritual development, we have offered some rudi-
mentary contributions to understanding a shift from a spirituality of the transcendent to one
of immanence and embodiment.

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 III

Transpersonal Dimensions

The final eight chapters, in either their original intent or their findings, address transper-
sonal/transcendent dimensions of experience. Chapters 13-19 each describe a phenomeno-
logical investigation of an experience with recognizable transpersonal elements, the
purpose of the research being, in each case, to identify the constituents that comprise the
prereflective structure of the particular experience being studied as it manifests in its re-
flective, conceptual form. These studies, as such, represent the beginning of an emerging
transpersonal-phenomenological psychology.
In this way, phenomenological psychology and research offer us a common language
and approach to both speak about and more deeply understand sacred experience. This pro-
gressive, shared understanding promises to reduce the negative judgments and feelings that
often arise in the comparison of differing religious perspectives by enhancing our ability to
discern and articulate the common elements in sacred experience as it is described in vari-
ous spiritual traditions. In addition, these findings suggest areas for further research, for ex-
ample, identifying those factors that distinguish psychotic from spiritual experience, or
discerning the different levels or types of prayerful or meditative experience.
Chapter 12, by Ron Valle, serves as an introduction to this section on transpersonal di-
mensions. Situating transpersonal psychology within the evolution of the major approaches
in psychology, Valle presents the essence of the existential-phenomenological perspective,
discusses the distinction between the existential and transpersonal world-views, and then
describes the relationship between transpersonal and transcendent awareness. The chapter
concludes with his thoughts on the nature of transpersonal-phenomenological psychology.
Chapter 13, by D. Hanson and Jon Klimo, presents an original research study on the
experience of a particular type of synchronicity. Although the nature of synchronicity has
been addressed historically by a number of psychologists, most notably Carl Jung, this
study represents a first in its intent to reveal the essence or structure of the experience in a
disciplined empirical phenomenological research setting.
Chapter 14, by Ourania Marcandonatou (Elite), offers us a look through the eyes of a
phenomenological psychologist into a realm of experience previously reserved for mystics,
theologians, and scholars of comparative religion: the experience of being silent. Consistent
with the view of most of the world's great spiritual traditions. Elite finds the heart to be the
"innermost silent center of our being" and that being silent facilitates the direct experience
of the "sacred union of opposites."
271
272 PART III

Chapter 15, by Craig Matsu-Pissot, addresses the nature of unconditional love, an is-
sue that has largely been ignored in Western psychology. He reports that, above all else, the
experience of being unconditionally loved by a spiritual teacher is profound, intimate, and
deeply moving for those who accepted his invitation to describe their experience. The re-
lationship of love and sacred experience is discussed in different ways throughout the
chapter.
Chapter 16, by Patricia A. Qualls, chronicles her remarkable journey to the orphanages
in Romania after the recent fall of Communism in that country. Her study focuses on the
volunteers who served with her and their experience of being with the suffering of the or-
phaned children they had cared for while there. As Qualls reflects, the experience of being
with suffering has not-prior to this study-been investigated in any formal way, perhaps
because of its intense and emotionally painful nature.
Chapter 17, by Thomas B. West, examines an experience that touches us at our deep-
est levels-being with a dying person. The profound mystery that dying represents and the
intense feelings that often arise when facing this issue are acknowledged and addressed in
West's presentation.
Chapter 18, by Paul Gowack and Valerie A. Valle, reports research findings on the ex-
perience of feeling grace in voluntary service to the terminally ill. This research naturally
follows West's study on the dying process reported in the preceding chapter, and offers an
empirical phenomenological approach to an experience that has been the focus of discus-
sion almost exclusively in spiritual and religious circles prior to this particular research
project.
Chapter 19, by Timothy West, also addresses an experience previously considered only
by those with an interest in mystical and/or spiritual matters-encountering a divine pres-
ence. In addition, by exploring this experience in the context of near-death experience,
West's study also represents the first empirical phenomenological investigation of any as-
pect of near-death experience.
 12

Transpersonal Awareness
Impl ications for
Phenomenological Research
Ron Valle

When this life ends, the mystery of love begins.

-Swami Rama

Phenomenological psychology invites us not just to an awareness of another perspective

with a previously unrecognized body of knowledge, but to a radically different way of be-
ing-in-the-world. In addition, this different way of being leads naturally to a different mode
or practice of inquiry-the methods of phenomenological research. This chapter will com-
pare phenomenological psychology to the more mainstream behavioral and psychoanalytic
approaches (Valle, 1989), present the essence of the existential-phenomenological per-
spective (Valle, King, & Halling, 1989), discuss the distinctions between the existential and
transpersonal world-views, and then describe the nature of an emerging transpersonal-
phenomenological psychology (Valle, 1995).

PHILOSOPHY AND APPROACHES IN PSYCHOLOGY

Existentialism as the philosophy of being became intimately paired with phenomenol-

ogy as the philosophy of experience, since it is our experience alone that serves as a means

Ron Valle • Awakening: A Center for Exploring Living and Dying, Walnut Creek, California 94598.

273
 274 RON VALLE

or way to inquire about the nature of existenc~what it means to be. Existential-phenome-

nology as a specific branch or system of philosophy was therefore the natural result, with
what we have come to know as phenomenological methods being the manifest, practical
form of this inquiry. Existential-phenomenology, when applied to experiences of psycholog-
ical interest, became existential-phenomenological psychology and has taken its place
within the general context of humanistic or "Third Force" psychology, since it is humanistic
psychology that offers an openness to human experience as it presents itself in awareness.
From a historical perspective, the humanistic approach has been both a reaction to and
progression of the world-views that constitute more mainstream psychology, namely, be-
havioral-experimental and psychoanalytic psychology. It is in this way that the philosoph-
ical bases that underlie both existential-phenomenological and transpersonal ("Fourth
Force") psychology have taken root and grown in this field.
In classic behaviorism, the human individual is regarded as a passive entity whose ex-
perience cannot be accurately verified or measured by natural scientific method. This en-
tity, seen as implicitly separate from its surrounding environment, simply responds/reacts
to stimuli that impinge upon it from the external physical and social world. Since only that
which can be observed with the senses, quantified, and whose qualities and dimensions can
be agreed to by more than one observer is recognized as acceptable evidence, human be-
havior (including verbal behavior) became the focus of psychology.
In a partial response to this situation, the radical behaviorism of Skinner (e.g., Skinner,
1974) claims to have resolved this classic behavior-experience split by regarding thoughts
and emotions as subject to the same laws that govern operating conditioning and the roles
that stimuli, responses, and reinforcement schedules play within this paradigm. For the pur-
poses of natural scientific inquiry, thoughts and feelings are, simply, behaviors.
In the psychoanalytic world, an important difference with behavioral psychology
stands out. Experience is recognized not only as an important part of being human, but also
as essential in understanding the adult personality. It is within this context that both Freud's
personal unconscious and Jung's collective unconscious take their place. The human being
is thereby more whole, yet is still treated as a basically passive entity that responds to "stim-
uli" from within (e.g., childhood experiences, current emotions, unconscious motives),
rather than the pushes and pulls from without. Whether the analyst speaks of one's unre-
solved oral stage issues or the subtle effects of the shadow archetype, the implicit separa-
tion of person and world remains unexamined, as does the underlying causal interpretation
of all behavior and experience. Both behavioral and analytic psychology are grounded in an
uncritically accepted linear temporal perspective that seeks to explain human nature via the
identification of prior causes and subsequent effects.

EXISTENTIAL-PHENOMENOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY

It is only when we reach the existential-phenomenological approach in psychology

that the implicitly accepted causal way of being is seen as only one of many ways human
beings can experience themselves and the world. More specifically, our being presents itself
to awareness as a being-in-the-world, so that the human individual and his or her surround-
ing environment are regarded as implicitly interdependent, as inextricably intertwined. The
person and world are said to co-constitute one another. One has no meaning when regarded
TRANSPERSONAL AWARENESS 275

independently of the other. Although the world is still regarded as essentially different in
kind from the person, the human being, with his or her full experiential depth, is seen as an
active agent who makes choices within a given external situation (Le., human freedom al-
ways presents itself as a situated freedom). A number of other concepts come from exis-
tential-phenomenological psychology, including the prereflective, lived structure, the
life-world, and intentionality (see Valle et aI., 1989). All of these concepts represent aspects
or facets of the deeper dimensions of human being and human capacity.
The prereflective level of awareness is central to understanding the nature of phenom-
enological research methodology. Reflective, conceptual experience is regarded as literally
a "reflection" of a preconceptual, and therefore prelanguaged, foundational, bodily know-
ing that exists "as lived" before or prior to any cognitive manifestation of this purely felt-
sense. Consider, for example, the way a sonata exists or lives in the hands of a performing
concert pianist. In fact, ifhe or she begins to think about which note to play next, the style
and power of the performance are very likely to suffer noticeably.
This prereflective knowing is present as the ground of any meaningful (meaning-full)
human experience, and exists in this way, not as a random, chaotic inner stream of subtle
senses or impressions, but as a prereflective structure. This embodied structure or essence
exists as an aspect or dimension of each individual's Lebenswelt, or life-world, and emerges
at the level of reflective awareness as meaning. Meaning, then, is regarded by the phenom-
enological psychologist as the manifestation in conscious, reflective awareness of the un-
derlying prereflective structure of the particular experience being addressed. In this sense,
the purpose of any empirical phenomenological research project is to articulate the under-
lying lived-structure of any meaningful experience on the level of conceptual awareness.
In this way, understanding for its own sake is the purpose of phenomenological research.
The results of such an investigation usually take the form of basic themes or constituents
that collectively represent the structure of the experience for that study. They are the notes,
if you will, that comprise the melody of the experience being investigated.
Possible topics for a phenomenological study therefore include any meaningful human
experience that can be articulated in our everyday language such that a reasonable number
of individuals would recognize and acknowledge the experience being described (e.g., "be-
ing anxious," "really feeling understood," "learning"). These many different experiences
comprise, in a very real sense, the fabric of our existence as experienced. In this way, phe-
nomenological psychology with its attendant research methods has been, to date, an exis-
tential-phenomenological psychology. From this perspective, reflective and prereflective
awareness are essential elements or dimensions of human being as a being-in-the-world.
They co-constitute one another. One cannot be fully understood without reference to the
other. They are truly two sides of the same coin.

TRANSPERSONAL/TRANSCENDENT AWARENESS

There are experiences or certain kinds of awareness, however, that do not seem to be
captured or illuminated by phenomenological reflections on descriptions of our conceptu-
ally recognized experiences and/or our prereflective felt-sense of things. Often referred to
as transpersonal, transcendent, sacred, or spiritual experience, these types of awareness are
not really "experience" in the way we normally use the word, nor are they the same as our
276 RON VALLE

prereflective sensibilities. The existential-phenomenological notion of intentionality is

helpful in understanding this distinction.
Please note that the words "transpersonal," "transcendent," "sacred," and "spiritual"
themselves connote subtle distinctions. For example, "transpersonal" currently refers to any
experience that is trans-egoic, including both the archetypal realities of Jung's collective un-
conscious and radical transcendent awareness. While notions such as the collective uncon-
scious refer to states of mind that are deeper than or beyond our normal ego consciousness,
"transcendent" refers to a completely sovereign or soul awareness without the slightest incli-
nation to defme itself in terms of anything outside itself including contents of the mind, either
conscious or unconscious, personal or collective (i.e., awareness that is not only trans-egoic,
but trans-mind). This distinction between transpersonal and transcendent awareness may, in
fact, lead to the emergence of a "Fifth Force" or more purely spiritual psychology.
Returning to existential-phenomenological psychology, intentionality refers to the
very nature or essence of consciousness as it presents itself. Consciousness is said to be in-
tentional, meaning that consciousness always has an object, whether that intended object be
a physical object, another person, or an idea or feeling. Consciousness is always a "con-
sciousness of" something that is not consciousness itself. This particular way of defin-
ing/describing intentionality directly implies the deep, implicit interrelatedness between the
perceiver and that which is perceived that characterizes consciousness in this approach. It
is this very inseparability that enables us, through disciplined reflection, to illumine the
meaning that was previously implicit and unlanguaged for us in the situation as it was lived.
Transpersonalltranscendent awareness, on the other hand, seems somehow "prior to"
this reflective-prereflective realm, presenting itself as more of a space or ground from which
our more common experience and felt-sense emerge. This space or context does present it-
self in awareness, however, and is thereby known to the one who is experiencing. Implicit in
this awareness, moreover, is the direct and undeniable realization that this foundational space
is not of the phenomenal realm of perceiver and the perceived. Rather, it is a noumenal, uni-
tive space within/from which intentional consciousness and phenomenal experience both
manifest. Personally, I have come to recognize the following six qualities or characteristics
oftranspersonalltranscendent awareness (usually during the practice of meditation) (from "A
Beginning Phenomenology of Transpersonal Experience"; Valle, 1989, pp. 258-259):
I. There is a deep stillness and peace that 1 sense as both existing as itself and, at the same time,
as "behind" all thoughts, emotions, or felt-senses (bodily or otherwise) that might arise or crys-
tallize in or from this stillness. 1 experience this as an isness or amness rather than a state of
whatness or "I am this or that." This stillness is, by its very nature, neither active nor bodily and
is, in this way, prior to both the prereflective and reflective levels of awareness.
2. There is an all-pervading aura or feeling of love for and contentment with all that exists, a feel-
ing that exists simultaneously in my mind and heart. Although rarely focused as a specific de-
sire for anyone or anything, it is nevertheless experienced as an intense, inner energy or inspired
"pressure" that yearns, even "cries," for a creative and passionate expression. 1 sense an open
embracing of everyone and everything just as they are, which literally melts into a deep peace
when 1 fmd myself able to simply "let it all be." Peace of mind is, here, a heart-felt peace.
3. Existing as or with the stillness and love is a greatly diminished, and on occasion absent, sense
of "I." The more common sense of "I am thinking or feeling this or that" becomes a fully pres-
ent "I am" or simply, when in its more intense form, an "Amness" (pure Being in the Heideg-
gerian sense). The sense of a "perceiver" and ''that which is perceived" has dissolved, for there
is no longer any "one" to perceive as we normally experience this identity and relationship.
4. My normal sense of space seems transformed. There is no sense of "being there," of being ex-
tended in and occupying space, but, similar to the previously mentioned, simply Being. Also,
there is a loss of awareness of my body sense as a thing or spatial container. This loss ranges from
TRANSPERSONAL AWARENESS 277

an experience of distance from sensory input to a radical forgetfulness of the body's very exis-
tence. It is here that my everyday, limited sense of body-space touches a sense of the infinite.
5. Time is also quite different from my everyday sense of linear passing time. Seemingly implicit
in the sense of stillness described here is also a sense of time "hovering" or standing still, of be-
ing forgotten (i.e., no longer a quality of mind) much as the body is forgotten. No thoughts
dwelling on the past, no thoughts moving into the future, hours of linear time are experienced as
a moment, as the eternal Now.
6. Bursts or flashes of insight are often part of this awareness, insights that have no perceived or
known antecedents but that emerge as complete or "full-blown." These insights or intuitive "see-
ings" have some of the qualities of more common experience (e.g., although "lighter," they have
a felt weightiness or subtle "content"), but they initially have an "other-than-me" quality about
them, as though the thoughts and words that emerge from the insights are being done to or, even,
through me-a sense that my mind and its contents are vehicles for the manifestation as expe-
rience of something greater and/or more powerful than myself. In its most intense or purest
form, the "other-than-me" quality dissolves as the "me" expands to a broader, more inclusive
sense of self that holds within it all that was previously felt as "other-than-me."

As I came to recognize these qualities or dimensions over the years, I found myself re-
contextualizing the existential-phenomenological concept of intentionality by acknowl-
edging a field of awareness that appears to be inclusive of the intentional nature of mind
but, at the same time, not of it. It therefore seemed necessary to posit a "transintentionality"
that addresses this consciousness without an object (Merrell-Wolff, 1973). I soon came to
realize, as my colleague Steen Halling (personal communication) rightfully pointed out,
that consciousness without an object is also consciousness without a subject, and that
transintentional awareness represents a way of being in which the separateness of a per-
ceiver and that which is perceived has dissolved, a reality not of (or in some way beyond)
time, space, and causation as we normally know them.
This, for me, is the bridge between existentiallhumanistic and transpersonal/transcen-
dent approaches in psychology, for it is here that one is called to recognize the radical dis-
tinction between the reflective/prereflective realm and pure consciousness, between
rational/emotive processes and transcendent/spiritual awareness, between intentional know-
ing of the finite and being the infinite. It is, therefore, mind, not consciousness per se, that
is characterized by intentionality, and it is our recognition of the trans intentional nature of
Being that calls us to investigate those experiences that clearly reflect or present these
transpersonalltranscendent dimensions in the explicit context of phenomenological research
methods.

FURTHER REFLECTIONS AND RECENT RESEARCH

ON TRANSPERSONAL EXPERIENCE

What follows are some personal reflections on these dimensions (from Valle, 1995).
My purpose and hope in offering these reflections is to deepen our understanding of
transpersonal and transcendent awareness through the application of phenomenological
research methodology and to facilitate the emergence of a new approach: transpersonal-
phenomenological psychology.
This presentation and discussion are based on the following thoughts regarding the
meaning of "transpersonal" in this context. Based on the themes that Huxley (1970)
claimed to comprise the "perennial philosophy," I presented five premises that character-
ize any philosophy or psychology as transpersonal (Valle, 1989, p. 261):
 278 RON VALLE

I. That a transcendent, transconceptual reality or Unity binds together (i.e., is immanent in) all ap-
parently separate phenomena, whether these phenomena be physical, cognitive, emotional, in-
tuitive, or spiritual.
2. That the individualized or ego-self is not the ground of human awareness but, rather, only one
relative reflection-manifestation of a greater trans-personal (as "beyond the personal") Self or
One (i.e., pure consciousness without subject or object).
3. That each individual can directly experience this transpersonal reality that is related to the spir-
itual dimensions of human life.
4. That this experience represents a qualitative shift in one's mode of experiencing and involves the
expansion of one's self-identity beyond ordinary conceptual thinking and ego-self awareness
(i.e., mind is not consciousness).
S. This elCperience is self-validating.

It has been written and taught for millennia in the spiritual circles of many different
cultures that sacred experience presents itself directly in one's awareness (Le., without any
mediating sensory or reflective processes) and, as such, is self-validating. The direct per-
sonal experience of God is therefore the "end" of all spiritual philosophy and practice.
TranscendentisacredlDivine experience has been recognized and often discussed, both
directly and metaphorically, in terms of either intense passion or the absolute stillness of
mind. In our day-to-day experience, a harmonious union of passion and stillness or peace
of mind is rarely experienced. In fact, passion and stillness are regarded as somehow an-
tagonistic to each other. For example, when one is passionately involved with some project
or person, the mind is quite active and intensely involved. On the other hand, the calm,
serene, and profoundly peaceful quality of mind that often accompanies deep meditation is
fully disengaged from and thereby disinterested in things and events of the world.
I suggest that what presents itself as quite paradoxical on one level offers us a very real
way to approach the direct personal experience of the transcendent-that is, to first recog-
nize and then deepen any experience in which passion and peace of mind are simultane-
ously fully present in one's awareness. If, in fact, Divine presence manifests in human
awareness in these two ways, and sacred experience is what one truly seeks, it becomes im-
portant to approach and understand those experiences wherever these two dimensions exist
in an integrated and harmonious way. In this way, one comes to understand the underlying
essence that they share, rather than simply being satisfied with the seeming opposites they
first appear to be.
The relationship between passion and peacefulness is addressed in many of the world's
scriptures and other spiritual writings. These two threads, for example, run through the
Psalms (May & Metzger, 1977) of the Judeo-Christian tradition. At one point, we read: "Be
still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46: 10), and "For God alone my soul waits in silence"
(psalm 62:5), and at another point: "For zeal for thy house has consumed me" (psalm 69:9),
and "My soul is consumed with longing for thy ordinances" (Psalm 119:20). Stillness, si-
lence, zeal, and longing all seem to play an essential part in this process.
In his teachings on attaining the direct experience of God through the principles and
practices of yoga, Paramahansa Yogananda (1956) affirms: "I am calmly active. I am ac-
tively calm. I am a Prince of Peace sitting on the throne of poise, directing the kingdom of
activity." And, more recently, Treya Wilber (Wilber, 1991, pp. 338-339) offers an eloquent
exposition of this integration:
I was thinking about the Carmelites' emphasis on passion and the Buddhists' parallel em-
phasis on equanimity. It suddenly occurred to me that our normal understanding of what passion
means is loaded with the idea of clinging, of wanting something or someone, of fearing losing
TRANSPERSONAL AWARENESS 279

them, of possessiveness. But what if you had passion without all that stuff, passion without at-
tachment, passion clean and pure? What would that be like, what would that mean? I thought of
those moments in meditation when I've felt my heart open, a painfully wonderful sensation, a pas-
sionate feeling but without clinging to any content or person or thing. And the two words suddenly
coupled in my mind and made a whole. Passionate equanimity-to be fully passionate about all
aspects of life, about one's relationship with spirit, to care to the depth of one's being but with no
trace of clinging or holding, that's what the phrase has come to mean to me. It feels full, rounded,
complete, and challenging.

It is here that existential-phenomenological psychology with its attendant descriptive

research methodologies comes into play. For if, indeed, we each identify with the contents
of our reflective awareness and speak to and/or share with one another from this perspec-
tive in order to better understand the depths and richness of our meaningful experience,
then phenomenological philosophy and method offer us the perfect, perhaps only, mirror
to approach transcendent experience.
Experiences that present themselves as passionate, peaceful, or an integrated aware-
ness of these two become the focus for exploring in a direct, empirical, and human scien-
tific way the nature of transcendent experience as we live it. Here is the "flesh" and promise
of a transpersonal-phenomenological psychology.
At this point in time, I am pleased to note that a more formal emergence of transper-
sonal-phenomenological psychology has already begun. The following seven chapters in
this volume report recent research studies that employed an empirical phenomenological
approach to investigate experiences with transpersonaVtranscendent qualities or dimen-
sions. Existential-phenomenological and transpersonal psychology have remained, to date,
relatively separate in both their theoretical and research endeavors. It is my hope that the
perspective offered in this chapter and the research described in the chapters that follow will
serve to deepen our understanding of human experience and contribute to the systematic in-
clusion of transpersonal issues within the philosophical and research projects of phenome-
nological psychology in particular, and the broader field of psychology in genera1.

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Merrell-Wolff, F. (l973). The philosophy of consciousness without an object. New York: Julian.
Skinner, B. F. (I 974}. About behaviorism. New York: Vintage.
Valle, R. (1989). The emergence of trans personal psychology. In R. Valle & S. Halling (Eds.), Existential-phe-
nomenological perspectives in psychology: Exploring the breadth ofhuman experience. (pp. 257-268). New
York: Plenum Press.
Valle, R. (I 995}. Towards a transpersonal-phenomenological psychology: On transcendent awareness, passion,
and peace of mind. Journal ofEast-West Psychology, 1(I), 3-15.
Valle, R., King, M., & Halling, S. (1989). An introduction to existential-phenomenological thought in psychology.
In R. Valle & S. Halling (Eds.), Existential-phenomenological perspectives in psychology: Exploring the
breadth ofhuman experience (pp. 3-16). New York: Plenum Press.
Wilber, K. (1991). Grace and grit: Spirituality and healing in the life and death ofTreya Killam Wilber: Boston:
Shambhala.
Yogananda, P. (1956). Affirmation. In Self-realization fellowship lesson S-1 P-9. Los Angeles: Self-Realization
Fellowship.
 13

Toward a Phenomenology
of Synchronicity
D. Hanson and Jon Klimo

INTRODUCTION

The purpose of this chapter is to share the results of a research study of the experience of a
particular type of synchronicity. Carl Jung (1973) defined synchronicity as coincidence that
is acausal, wherein certain events do not seem to be connected by normal causal means, and
that is also particularly meaningful to the experiencer. Specifically, this is a study of a kind
of synchronicity that appears to be goal-directed, although not under the conscious control
of the experiencer. Consider the following example:
The young man sat before me with a soft peaceful expression. I asked him how it came
to be that he was a student at Steiner College studying to become a Waldorf schoolteacher.
His eyes took on a glow as he described falling in love with Steiner philosophy, watching
his young children bloom and thrive in a Waldorf school, and his admiration of one of the
school's master teachers. Albeit innocent of Joseph Campbell's suggestion that we "follow
our bliss," the young man had identified his "bliss." But what to do? His bachelor's degree
was in an unrelated field; his full-time career as a county planner was well under way. Head
of household for a single-income family offour, he had initially seen a career change as out
of the question. After much soul-searching, often shared until the wee hours of the morning
with his wife, the young man fearlessly gave 30 days'notice to job and career. He describes
the process of this move with these words:
During the past two years, I have struggled with making the decision to leave this type of work
[county planner1and pursue an avenue that I felt was more spiritually correct for me. It was not

D. Hanson and Jon Klimo • Rosebridge Graduate School of Integrative Psychology, Concord, California 94518.

281
282 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

until I was secure in this decision that I could surrender to all the chaos surrounding the decision .
. . . The experience would not have occurred without this surrendering. It allowed me to see my
life clearly, and allow the Spirit for us to have an effect.

He submitted his application to Steiner College and relegated the issue of part-time
employment to a future hurdle that he would jump when he came to it. Unexpected and un-
foreseen doors began to open. Forces seemingly reached out to carry him toward his goal.
In his words, "It became obvious to me that this was my destiny."
Of particular significance was the following occurrence: When the young man sub-
mitted his notice, his supervisor immediately sought to hire a replacement. After weeks of
disappointing interviews, he decided to keep the young man on as planner, part-time, a
move unprecedented by the county for this position. For this young man, "The event itself
of the renewed job opportunity is not exciting. The excitement occurred in the original de-
cision to leave."
What happened to this young man? On one level, with the identification of his bliss
and the dissolution of his fears, he took action. He then perceived the world to respond in
unexpected ways to support him in his goal. In his words, "The balance of the tale is des-
tiny. It occurred when I began to trust and love myself." Were the doors that opened luck or
random chance? Was his experience nothing more than a series of coincidences? Or could
he have experienced something more?
This example ends with the kind of questions that led us to using a formal phenome-
nological methodology in order to investigate the experience of "being carried along by a
series or flow of unforeseen circumstances or events culminating in a right and desired out-
come." Since there had never been a survey-type study of such an experience, we did not
know what percentage of the population may have had such an experience. But it seems to
us that many individuals at some time or other have had an experience of something like
this at some point in their lives.
As described, this experience would seem, on the face of it, to have a number of pos-
sible characteristics or associations. Human experience on occasion appears to be em-
bedded in a context that is larger than or different from ordinary day-to-day experience
and the reigning scientific paradigm of how things are supposed to be. From another per-
spective, a transpersonal or transcendent quality is implied with a deeper dimension of
meaning and purpose, wherein something is taking place outside normal ego conscious-
ness and decision making, and outside a world running just on the principles of tradi-
tional classic physics.
The chief identifying characteristic of such an experience, however, may well be what
Jung (1973) termed synchronicity. Over the years, we have come to use this term to indicate
an acausal-or not normally causally connected-and personally meaningful coincidence
or relationship among events. Today, we often hear people talk in terms of feeling as though
they are "riding a wave" of synchronicities. These synchronicities seem to display a fabric
of how events, directions, and destinies may be woven together on some deeper level. What
might be the nature of this deeper loomwork? What or who is the weaver? The experience
chosen for this study serves as a kind of Rosetta Stone for a group of interrelated concep-
tual and experiential domains that are absolutely central to the theme of human existence,
such as intention and free will, purpose, direction in life, and destiny or nonordinary guid-
ance in human affairs.
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 283

RELATED THEMES

Before describing our study of the experience being considered here, we ftrst address
a nwnber of relevant interrelated subjects. These areas include: transpersonal psychology,
the study of spirituaVmystical experiences, meaning, synchronicity, teleology, peak experi-
ence, and a holistic worldview pointed to by both traditional Eastern philosophy and post-
classic physics. It is our hope that by briefly considering these themes, we can set the scene
for better appreciating some of the facets involved in the experience we studied. We did not
know initially whether the experience of being carried along by a series or flow of unfore-
seen circwnstances or events culminating in a right and desired outcome would prove to be
more difficult to research than other kinds of experience, because of its subjective, rela-
tively unverifiable, and idiosyncratic nature, or whether human experiences of whatever
kind equally challenge the researcher to arrive at its essential characteristics. However, there
appears to be something about the subject of this study that spreads into a nwnber of inter-
related realms in ways that most other experiences do not. The attempt to investigate the ex-
perience in question, for example, parallels attempts to understand paranormal and
mysticaVspiritual types of experiences. Pioneer works in the mysticaVspiritual fteld of in-
quiry include C. D. Broad's (1953) Religion, Philosophy and Psychical Research, Evelyn
Underhill's (1955) Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Man 50 Spiritual
Consciousness, W T. Stace's (1960) Mysticism and Philosophy, William James's (1961) The
Varieties ofReligious Experience, Richard Bucke's (1969) Cosmic Consciousness, and Al-
dous Huxley's (1970) The Perennial Philosophy-to name just some of the modern classics
in this field.
With regard to mystical experience, the philosopher W T. Stace (1960) presents what
he calls the "argument for unanimity," or "the argument from analogy," which contends
"that there is an analogous agreement among mystics everywhere about what they experi-
ence, and that this supports belief in the objectivity of the experience" (p. 16). This argu-
ment, however, requires the asswnption "that the witnesses are telling the truth ... [and]
that in their reports of their experiences they have not unintentionally misdescribed the na-
ture of their experiences" (p. 33). Since we each proceed alone through our respective mys-
tical or other nonordinary experiences, proving the objective reality or potentially public
nature of such experiences is beyond a natural scientiftc grasp. What we can do, however,
is seek the commonalties and regularities within the self-reports of such nonordinary expe-
riences. Indeed, this is what the phenomenological approach attempts to do with any hwnan
experience it chooses to investigate.
Including the study of nonordinary and transcendent experience within its scope,
transpersonal psychology, the so-called "fourth force" in psychology, addresses both ego
and the related trans-egoic concepts of spirit in a framework larger than simple physical re-
ality. Transpersonal theory was pioneered by Jung (1976), who asked us to pay attention to
spiritual symbols, seen as embodiments of the nwninous archetypes that, rooted in the un-
conscious, guide us on our odyssey of self-realization. Examples of such archetypal sym-
bols are the mandala; the shadow; the divine child, and the initiation mysteries; the anima,
animus, and the sacred marriage; the hero; the wise man; and the great mother. These spir-
itual symbols point to the future and highest stages ofhwnan development; they are sign-
posts along the way to full spiritual awareness.
 284 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

Another related theme is that of finding meaning in our experience. It appears that
those who had the experience we studied were moved to make meaning for themselves out
of their experience in particularly distinctive ways. Humanistic psychology and existential
psychology address such value-laden domains, which include meaning-making, choice, and
intention. Humankind's awareness of itself and the meaning of its existence in the context
of the larger world is central. For Bugental (1981), a leading existential psychologist, it is
the supreme achievement of our choice-making possibilities to create meaning. Vicktor
Frankl (1963, p. 154), another existential pioneer, wrote that "the striving to find a mean-
ing in one's life is the primary motivational force in man."
One person's experience of a series of events may be that the events are simply random
chance or no more meaningful than their pedestrian qualities suggest. On the other hand,
another person might experience the same series of events and find them deeply and per-
sonally interrelated and meaningful. It would seem that meaning is truly in the eye of the
beholder.
In attempting to come to terms with the enigma of meaning, the contemporary psy-
chologist Csikszentmihalyi (1990) provides three perspectives on what he calls applied
meaning. First, meaning points toward the end, purpose, or significance of something, as in
"the meaning of life." This definition reflects the assumption that events are linked to each
other in terms of an ultimate goal. It assumes a temporal order, a causal connection between
events. In this perspective, meaning assumes that phenomena are not random but fall into
recognizable patterns directed by a final purpose. Second, meaning refers to a person's in-
tentions. For example, "He means well." This implies that people reveal their purposes in
their actions. Their goals are expressed in predictable and consistent ways. Third, meaning
is used to order information. For example, ''Aquatic entomology means the study of insects
that live in water" or "Pain in arthritic joints means it's going to rain." This use of meaning
indicates the identity of different words, or the relationship between events, and thereby
helps to clarify and establish order among unrelated or conflicting pieces of information
(Csikszentmihalyi, 1990).
Teleology and synchronicity are both concepts that address the nature of meaning in
our lives. Let us look at each in tum.
Teleology attributes a character to nature or natural processes of being directed toward
an end or shaped by a purpose. Basing his view on the concept of teleology, evolutionary
thinker and Jesuit scientist Teilhard de Chardin regarded the human individual as an open-
ended creature who may evolve indefinitely. He perceived a teleological pull, in the evolu-
tionary process, toward increased awareness, complexity, and freedom. In this view,
evolution is characterized both by the organism's freedom to choose and by its inner sense of
right direction. In short, he saw evolution moving in a preferred direction (de Chardin, 1961).
In the past, the natural sciences have tended to resist teleological propositions, insist-
ing that they are value-laden and therefore inappropriate for study. Within the field ofpsy-
chology, Jung addressed teleology through his theory of individuation, which portrays the
psyche as essentially goal- or aim-directed and therefore requiring an understanding in tele-
ological terms (i.e., in the language of goals and purposes) (in Clarke, 1992). Further, Jung
(1962, p. 687) tells us: "The nature of the human mind compels us to take the fmalistic [i.e.,
the teleological] view. It cannot be disputed that, psychologically speaking, we are living
and working day by day according to the principle of directed aim or purpose as well as that
of causality."
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 285

Jung's thoughts (Clarke, 1992) correspond with those of de Chardin in applying the
concept to life. He wrote: "Life is directed towards a goal. ... Life is teleology par excel-
lence; it is the intrinsic striving toward a goal, and the living organism is a system of di-
rected aims which seek to fulfill themselves" (p. 170).
He prefaced his document on synchronicity with the desire to "open up a very obscure
field which is philosophically of greatest importance," and he defined synchronicity as "the
timely coincidence of two or several events which cannot be causally related to each other,
but express an identical or similar meaning" (Jung, 1976).
Jung described synchronicity in terms of four categories: (1) "coincidental" experi-
ences between one's mental content (thought or feeling) and an outer event; (2) experiences
wherein one has a dream or vision that coincides with an event that is taking place at a dis-
tance; (3) instances in which one has an image, dream, vision, or premonition about some-
thing that will happen in the future and it does then occur; and (4) a series of synchronistic
connections that culminate in meaning that unites them in terms of their inherent connec-
tion to a significant meeting, process, or goal (Bolen, 1979). An example of this last type
would be the first meeting of two people who ultimately commit to an intimate relationship.
Jung came to the conclusion that the best way to describe the development of person-
ality is in terms of an unfoldment from within. It is interesting to speculate on how such
individual unfoldment and individuation might be acausally connected with this unfolding
from within and the individuation of others as well. Such a connection would appear to
comprise complex syntheses of synchronicities that take the form of teleologically guided
sequences of events involving more than one person.
Progoff (1973, p. 64), a leading Jungian, said: "The coming together by apparent
chance of factors that are not causally linked, but that nevertheless show themselves to be
meaningfully related, is at the very heart of the process by which the purpose of the indi-
vidual's life unfolds and becomes his 'fate.'" Jung (1976, pp. 431-432) wrote: "Just as in a
living body the different parts work in harmony and are meaningfully adjusted to one an-
other, so events in the world stand in a meaningful relationship which cannot be derived
from any immanent causality. The reason for this is that in either case the behavior of the
parts depends on a central control which is superordinate to them" What, then, is this super-
ordinate, guiding, connection-making force that appears to be operating in our lives?
Although we may not be able to understand the source or mechanisms responsible for
such experiences in our lives, we can deepen our understanding by considering Maslow's
(1962) term peak experience, which addresses deeply meaningful experiences that tran-
scend the ordinary. Peak experiences characterize the lives of individuals whom Maslow de-
scribed as "self-actualizing," those who had achieved a high level of maturation, health, and
self-fulfillment. In order to attain such a high level, Maslow maintained, an individual must
undergo such a peak experience as a necessary prerequisite to establishing a more inte-
grated and fully functional identity.
Maslow (1962) described peak experiences as having the following five general charac-
teristics: (1) Perception in the peak moment tends to be nonclassificatory, in that we transcend
our normal perception of the world, which rests essentially on generalization and on a division
of the world into classes of various sorts. Perception can be relatively ego-transcending and
self-forgetful. One may even speak of identification of the perceiver and the perceived, a fu-
sion of what were two into a new and larger whole, a superordinate unit. We may see the world
for a moment as in its own being. (2) There can be a characteristic disorientation of time and
286 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

space. During these moments, the person is subjectively outside time and space. The peak ex-
perience can manifest, for example, in the creative fervor of the poet or artist who becomes
oblivious to his or her surroundings and to the passage oftime. (3) There can be a complete,
though momentary, loss of fear, anxiety, inhibition, defense, and control, a surrender of re-
nunciation, delay, and restraint. The fear of disintegration and dissolution, the fear of being
overwhelmed by the instincts, the fear of death and of insanity, the fear of giving in to unbri-
dled pleasure and emotion, all tend to disappear or go into abeyance during the peak experi-
ence. This, too, implies a greater openness of perception, since fear tends to distort normal
perception. (4) By definition, the peak experience is only good and desirable. It is intrinsically
valid, perfect, complete, and inevitable. It is just as good as it should be. (5) It involves a sud-
den surge of meaning. An individual does not choose to have it. One is surprised by it. In the
cognition of the peak experience, the will does not interfere. We cannot command the peak ex-
perience. It happens to us (Wilson, 1972).
In light of these related issues, the experience investigated in this study can be seen to
be of particular interest to those who also are involved with the study of a variety of nonor-
dinary and transcendent human experiences.

THE RESEARCH: OVERVIEW, SUBJECTS, AND DATA GATHERING

We now turn to a description of the research study itself. First we share the overall de-
sign of the research project with references to the phenomenological research tradition
within which it is situated. Next, we describe the subjects and the data-gathering proce-
dures. We then give a detailed presentation of the data-analysis process. We then share with
the reader how a sample subject's protocol was taken through the complete data-analysis
procedure, with the hope, in doing so, of providing insight into the intricacies of this phe-
nomenological process.
The study asked the following three questions (Giorgi, 1975): (1) Do people have the
experience of being carried along by a series or flow of unforeseen circumstances or events
culminating in a right and desired outcome? (2) If they do, what is the structure (nature,
essence, or form) of the experience? (3) What is the style or "how" of the experience?
Heidegger (1962) states that in seeking to understand a phenomenon, "the phenome-
nologist thinks meditatively about its meaning." The phenomenological researcher is con-
cerned with the meaning of the experience proposed for study, with the way things are
experienced by the experiencer, and with how events are integrated into a dynamic, mean-
ingful experience. As Giorgi (1975, p. 72) writes: "Phenomenology is the study of the struc-
ture, and the variations of structure, of the consciousness to which any thing, event, or
person appears." Phenomenological method is used to elucidate both that which appears
and the manner in which it appears, as well as the overall structure that relates what appears
with its mode or manner of appearance.
The following five tenets of the existential-phenomenological approach were central
to choosing and carrying out this study: (1) In the existential-phenomenological view, cer-
tain kinds of thoughts, feelings, and perceptions of the world express underlying, holistic
ways of knowing (Bohm & Welwood, 1980; Valle & Halling, 1989). (2) The existential-
phenomenological psychologist speaks of the total, indissoluble unity or interrelationship
of the individual and his or her world. Further, the person is viewed as having no existence
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 287

apart from the world and the world as having no existence apart from the person. Each in-
dividual and his or her world are said to co-constitute one another (Valle & Halling, 1989).
(3) It is through the world that the very meaning of the person's existence emerges for both
himself or herself and others (Valle & Halling, 1989). (4) People and the world are always
in dialogue with each other (Valle & Halling, 1989). (5) A major focus of attention is with
the world as given in direct and immediate experience (Husserl, 1970). All experience is re-
garded as having its basis or foundation in the Lebenswelt, or life-world, the world as lived
by the person and not the hypothetical external entity separate from or independent of him
or her. The prereflective structure of any identifiable experience, including the experience
being studied here, is of this realm.
Turning now to the research subjects, or reporters, the following criteria of selection were
used. Subjects had to: (1) be over 18 years of age; (2) have had the experience being studied;
(3) have the ability to describe the experience; and (4) be willing to share their experience by
participating in the study. For the study, 24 subjects were chosen who satisfied these criteria.
The data collection was conducted in two parts. Part I was designed to obtain a written
report of the experience as recalled by the subjects. These written descriptions were elicited
by a questionnaire. Part II of the research consisted of a walk-through interview designed
to clarify the written descriptions and provide a richer description of the experience. De-
scriptions derived from Parts I and II were then brought together as the final protocol.
The initial questionnaire asked each subject to:
I. Select a time and space where you can be alone, uninterrupted, and relaxed.
2. Recall an episode when you experienced being carried along by a series or flow of unfore-
seen circumstances or events culminating in a right and desired outcome. Please describe the ex-
perience so that someone reading or hearing the report would know just what the experience was
like for you. Keep your focus on the experience, not just the situation itself. Do not stop until you
feel you have completely described the experience.

In addition, information regarding age, sex, occupation, and highest education completed
was also collected.
The following instructions were given in person to each subject in the walk-through in-
terview phase of the study:
We're going to walk through the experience together just the way you wrote it. I'll read a part
of it, then stop, and I would like for you to describe for me anything that comes to your mind about
the part of the experience I have just read. You may provide further details about it, describe any
thoughts or feelings you have, relate any images or metaphors that may come to your mind; in
short, just let yourself go and associate to what I've just read to you in whatever way you choose
until you feel ready to stop. We'll then move on to the next part.

These interview reports were recorded by audio tape recorder and then transcribed ver-
batim for analysis. The actual analysis was based very closely on Colaizzi's (1978) method.
A final step used by van Kaam (1959) wherein he calculated the percentages of the occur-
rence of constituents across protocols was added. Figure 1 depicts the various stages in the
data analysis. These steps in the analysis were as follows:
1. The written reports and transcribed walk-through interviews were first combined.
These original protocols were read several times to acquire a feeling sense of each individ-
ual's experience in its totality as well as to obtain a beginning sense of the overall pattern.
2. The protocols were then condensed and summarized. During this process, repeti-
tive statements were eliminated. Statements that directly related to the reporter's experience
 288 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

Comprehensive Constituent Summary ¢ Percentages of Occurrence

'Ir
Constituent Themes ¢ Reflection of Theme

~\. Z~

,
Comprehensive Thematic Structures
A
~

Final Structural Summary

'11

,
Structural Summary
A

Structural Units

_itt
Significant Statements

'1 ~
Protocol Summaries
A

'11
Original Protocols

1~ ,,!
Written Reports Walk-through Interviews

Figure 1. Flow chart of the steps in the analysis.

were extracted and combined into a flowing account of that experience. This process was
repeated for several rounds, culminating in a Protocol Summary.
3. Extracted from each Protocol Summary were significant words, phrases, and sen-
tences that directly pertained to the experience. These Significant Statements provided a
further reduction of the original.
4. The extracted Significant Statements were clustered to form Structural Units.
These units expressed natural components of the experience for each protocol.
5. The Structural Units were then synthesized and woven together to form a Structural
Summary for each protocol. This Structural Summary contains a description that delineates
 PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 289

the unfolding of the experience in terms of essential elements and stages (Ricoeur, 1970).
This step requires the process of an intuitive eidetic grasping of the whole of the experience,
and was repeated through several rounds. Each resulting formulation was then compared to
the Structural Units to check for consistency. With each repetition, the formulation became
more refined until the Structural Units were clearly harmonious (i.e., integrated) in the
Structural Summary (Polkinghome, 1989).
6. In a short follow-up interview, a step formulated by Colaizzi (1978), each reporter
was recontacted and asked by the researcher, "How do my descriptive results compare with
your experience?" and "Have any aspects of your experience been omitted?" Any relevant
new data that emerged from these follow-up interviews were synthesized into the corre-
sponding description or Final Structural Summary (Polkinghome, 1989).
7. Extracted from the Final Structural Summary were words, phrases, and sentences
that together represented Comprehensive Thematic Structures for each protocol.
8. Each cluster of Comprehensive Thematic Structures was then interpreted by the re-
searcher in terms of its psychological meaning to be a theme. It was given a tentative label
and listed. Moving back and forth from each Comprehensive Thematic Structure to the de-
veloping list of themes, the researcher assigned each such cohesive whole to its descriptive
appropriate theme, or added a new theme as needed, until all cohesive wholes from all pro-
tocols were reflected in a preliminary list of themes with subcategories as needed. In this
process, each of the descriptive themes is reflected in the Constituent Themes that result.
In Colaizzi's view, reflection upon the basic descriptions (Comprehensive Thematic
Structures) yields fundamental structures or the fundamental reality of the phenomenon
(themes). In this stage, there is a leap from what the reporters say in their interviews to what
the researcher interprets what they say to mean. Colaizzi (1978, p. 59) states: "This is a pre-
carious leap because, while moving beyond the protocol statements, the meanings he [the
researcher] arrives at and formulates should never sever all connection with the original
protocols; his formulations must discover and illuminate those meanings hidden in the var-
ious contexts and horizons of the investigated phenomenon which are announced in the
original protocols."
The preliminary list of themes was then scrutinized by the researcher for duplication
in meaning and for subcategory overlap until a final list of Constituent Themes emerged.
These Constituent Themes represent, across protocols, the essence of the Comprehensive
Thematic Structures.
9. The Constituent Themes were then woven together, culminating in a flowing Com-
prehensive Constituent Summary.
10. The Percentages of Occurrence of themes across protocols were then calculated
(van Kaam, 1959).

SAMPLE PROCEDURE

Following is a detailed example of the data analysis process for one subject's data.
Please note that the contents of steps 2 and 6 are omitted, since the results of each are virtu-
ally identical to those of the prior step in each case. This example is offered because this step-
by-step process is not usually shared by other phenomenological researchers, who usually
jump from the generic description of the overall data-analysis process to the penultimate step
290 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

of listing the final Constituent Themes. This tends to leave the reader with a vague sense re-
garding the highly rigorous identifying, winnowing, clustering, condensing, paraphrasing,
and interpreting process that takes one from the original verbatim protocols to the final Con-
stituent Themes of the experience or phenomenon in question.

Step 1: Original Protocol

When I was 19 I was living on a farm with some friends, They weren't real old friends. I had
been living with them for about two months. We were renting the house and property up in North-
ern Oregon. I had a very strong desire to live communally with people seeking spiritual values and
when I had come upon this farm it was after a lot of searching. I had left Ohio right after high
school. I did a lot of hitch hiking around and looking for that and never really finding it. There was
so much of it going on at that time, but I just never felt comfortable in the different places I ended
up. I thought, 'this is it' when I first moved in. I did because what I thought about on the exterior.
There were about 12 people there on a cozy farm in Northern Oregon, which is where I always
wanted to end up. Plus I was tired of being rootless. I was getting tired of being shiftless, which I
had been for two years at that point. But after a few months I was beginning to feel perhaps this was
not it. Basically because there wasn't a real emphasis on spiritual ... there wasn't any cohesive fac-
tor to the group, it just wasn't really what I was looking for. There wasn't the spiritual focus I had
been hoping for, but I didn't want to admit it to myself because I really wanted to be settled.
One day I woke early and decided to go on a day hike by myself. Just an impulse. Hadn't re-
ally planned it, There were miles and miles oflogging roads through the forest that surrounded the
area. It was real pretty. It was a wonderful hike. It was. That day was ... I remember that day very
vividly. As I was going for the walk I was thinking that I needed to make a decision on what was
happening there and that I needed my own space to think about it and to figure out what I was go-
ing to do with it. I remember coming to the conclusion that I had to leave the farm. It was real evi-
dent. All of a sudden in my mind I realized that I had to do that. But I felt very good about it and
decided to cast my fate to the wind. I cast my fate to the wind a lot because I really believe in the
flow and I wanted to become a part of it. But I never really ended up where I wanted to go and I was
really ready to land somewhere. On that day I said here we go again, I'm just going to have to do it
again because this just isn't right. And it felt OK for me to do that.
When I returned I found everyone had been packing up to leave throughout the day. It was a
very big surprise. Earlier that morning the landlord came out and demanded everyone leave by
nightfall. Seems he got a notion about not having a bunch of hippies on his land. Never bothered
him before. He knew that we were all called hippies. For some reason he decided he didn't want us
living there and he just came and kicked everyone out. No motive.
My good friend Marcia was waiting for me to return and had packed up my things which
filled my back pack. She was very upset and afraid at not having a place to go. She and I had trav-
eled for about a year. We met at Grand Canyon. We were both kind of looking for the same thing.
She was really ready to stay. She liked the farm and the people. She was really happy with it. It was
about 7:30 when we found ourselves hitchhiking into Portland thinking we would spend the night
with some friends we knew. We had met people in Portland before we stayed at the farm. I remem-
ber feeling very peaceful inside. I was. I remember we were hitch hiking on this mountain road in
Oregon and I remember thinking I probably should be afraid, or on my guard and we were far from
the city. When I got back to the farm I saw everything just as a confirmation to what I knew I
needed to do. It was kind of like all this other time I had been traveling I always had a destination,
but this time I really knew that I was really casting my fate to the wind. I had absolutely no idea
where we were going to go. I really felt like I finally was able to move with it. It was an exhilarat-
ing feeling, very powerful. I really knew that everything was happening the way it should be. I said,
'Marcia, don't worry, the Father will take care of us.' I had complete faith that everything would
be all right. It was very much like being caught up in a wave. It was like not being in control of what
was happening, but it was all right. It wasn't being victimized. It was OK to feel like that. I knew if
I surrendered to it I could ride on the power of it. And it was a powerful exhilarating feeling.
When we arrived at the house where our friends lived one of them, Peter, had come back from
California where he had found a spiritual community. He was planning to leave the very next morn-
ing to go down to live there. He had bought a station wagon, so we could fit in there too. He was up
there going to school. He found this place and sold everything so that we could fit in there too and
was going to leave the next morning. I knew that's why we ended up at his doorstep that night.
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 291

I went down to the community and spent the next 10 years there. Ten pretty amazing years.
These years were very formative to my own spirituality, to undying friendships and also to my mar-
riage. It's where I met my husband, I really know that I was meant to be in that community. That
was the experience that got me there. That experience was waiting for me and I was waiting for it.

Step 2: Protocol Summary

Here, the original protocol is condensed and summarized, eliminating repetition. All
statements directly relating to the experience are extracted and combined into a flowing ac-
count. Due to the almost identical wording of this protocol summary compared to the orig-
inal protocol, this particular step is not illustrated here.

Step 3: Significant Statements

Here, significant words, phrases, and sentences that directly pertain to the experience
are extracted and numbered. There were 57 Significant Statements derived from this par-
ticular protocol summary. As illustrations, numbers 1-10 and 17-26 of these 57 Significant
Statements follow (please refer back to the original protocol to see the relationship between
the original material and the identified Significant Statements):
1. When I was 19 I was living on a farm with some friends.
2. I had a very strong desire to live communally with people seeking spiritual values.
3. When I had come upon this farm it was after a lot of searching.
4. There was so much of it going on at that time, but I just never felt comfortable in
the different places I ended up.
5. I thought 'this is it'when I first moved in.
6. I was tired of being rootless.
7. Which I had been for two years at that point.
8. But after a few months I was beginning to feel perhaps this was not it.
9. There wasn't the spiritual focus I had been hoping for, but I didn't want to admit
it to myself because I really wanted to be settled.
10. One day I woke early and decided to go on a day hike by myself.
17. I really believe in the flow and I wanted to become a part of it.
18. But I never really ended up where I wanted to go and I was really ready to land
somewhere.
19. On that day I said here we go again, I'm just going to have to do it again because
this just isn't right.
20. It felt OK for me to do that.
21. When I returned I found everyone had been packing up to leave throughout the
day.
22. It was a very big surprise.
23. Earlier that morning the landlord came out and demanded everyone leave by
nightfall.
24. Seems he got a notion about not having a bunch of hippies on his land. Never
bothered him before.
25. No motive.
26. My good friend Marcia was waiting for me to return and had packed up my things.
292 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

Step 4: Structural Units

In this step, Significant Statements are clustered to form Structural Units. These are
units that seem to express the natural structure of the experience. Again, consider just a
sampling of how the Significant Statements became clustered into Structural Units. Signif-
icant Statements 3, 4, 6, 7, and 8 become one larger Structural Unit:
When I had come upon this farm it was after a lot of searching. There was so much of it go-
ing on at that time, but I just never felt comfortable in the different places I ended up. I was tired
of being rootless, which I had been for two years at that point. But after a few months I was begin-
ning to feel perhaps this was not it.

Significant Statements 5, 9, and 10 became clustered into another Structural Unit:

I thought 'this is it' when I first moved in. There wasn't the spiritual focus I had been hoping
for, but I didn't want to admit it to myself because I really wanted to be settled. One day I woke
early and decided to go on a day hike by myself.

Significant Statements 17 and 18 clustered as:

I really believe in the flow and I wanted to become a part of it. But I never ended up where I
wanted to go and I was really ready to land somewhere.

Significant Statements 19,20, and 21 became:

One day I said here we go again, I'm just going to have to do it again because this just isn't
right. It felt OK for me to do that. When I returned I found everyone had been packing up to leave
throughout the day.

Significant Statements 22 through 25 became:

It was a very big surprise. Earlier that morning the landlord came out and demanded everyone
leave by nightfall. Seems he got a notion about not having a bunch of hippies on his land. Never
bothered him before. No motive.

Step 5: Structural Summary

Recall that the Structural Summary contains a description that delineates the unfold-
ing of the experience in terms of essential elements and stages, and requires a process of
an intuitive, eidetic grasping of the whole of the experience:
When I was 19 I was living on a farm with some friends.
I had a very strong desire to live communally with people seeking spiritual values.
When I had come upon this farm it was after a lot of searching. There was so much of it going on
at that time, but I just never felt comfortable in the different places I ended up. I was tired of being
rootless, which I had been for two years at that point. But after a few months I was beginning to feel
perhaps this was not it.
I thought 'this is it' when I first moved in. There wasn't the spiritual focus I had been hoping for,
but I didn't want to admit it to myself, because I really wanted to be settled. One day I woke early
and decided to go on a day hike by myself.
Just an impulse. Hadn't really planned it. I remember that day very vividly. I remember coming to
the conclusion that I had to leave the farm.
As I was going for the walk I was thinking that I needed to make a decision on what was happening
there and that I needed my own space to think about it and to figure out what I was going to do with it.
All of a sudden in my mind I realized that I had to do that. But I felt very good about it and de-
cided to cast my fate to the wind.
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 293

I really believe in the flow and I wanted to become part of it. But I never really ended up where I
wanted to go and I was really ready to land somewhere.
On that day I said here we go again, I'm just going to have to do it again because this just isn't right.
And it felt OK for me to do that. When I returned I found everyone had been packing up to leave
throughout the day.
It was a very big surprise. Earlier that morning the landlord came out and demanded everyone leave
by nightfall. Seems he got a notion about not having a bunch of hippies on his land. Never bothered
him before. No motive.
My good friend Marcia was waiting for me to return and had packed up my things.
It was about 7:30 when we found ourselves hitch hiking into Portland thinking we would spend the
night with some friends we knew.
I remember feeling very peaceful inside.
We were hitch hiking on this mountain road and I remember thinking I probably should be afraid,
or on my guard.
We were far from the city.
When I got back to the farm I saw everything just as a confirmation to what I knew I needed to do.
All this other time I had been traveling I always had a destination, but this time I really knew that I
was really casting my fate to the wind. I had absolutely no idea where we were going to go.
I really felt like I finally was able to move with it. It was an exhilarating feeling, very powerful. I
really knew that everything was happening the way it should.
I said 'Marcia, don't worry, the Father will take care of us.' She was very upset and afraid at not
having a place to go. She and I had traveled for about a year. We were both kind oflooking for the
same thing. I had complete faith that everything would be all right.
It was very much like being caught up in a wave. It was like not being in control of what was hap-
pening, but that was all right. I knew if I surrendered to it I could ride on the power of it. And it was
a powerful exhilarating feeling.
When we arrived at the house where our friends lived one of them, Peter, had come back from Cal-
ifornia where he had found a spiritual community. He was planning to leave the very next morning
to go back down to live there. He had bought a station wagon, so we could fit in there, too.
I knew that's why we ended up at his doorstep that night.
I went down to the community and spent the next 10 years there.
Ten pretty amazing years. These years were very formative to my own spirituality, to undying
friendships and also to my marriage. It's where I met my husband.
I really know that I was meant to be in that community.
That was the experience that got me there.
That experience was waiting for me and I was waiting for it.

Step 6: Final Structural Summary

The Structural Summary contains a description that delineates the unfolding of the
experience in terms of essential elements and stages. This description is done in light of an in-
tuitive grasp of the whole experience on the part of the researcher. One continues to review the
Structural Units that support this summary. Then each subject is recontacted and asked, "How
do my descriptive results [now the Structural Summary] compare with your experience? Have
any aspects of your experience been omitted?" Any new data that emerge are then synthesized
with the existing Structural Summaries. The Structural Summary reads quite similarly to the
original Protocol Summary, except that now the material is grouped not in terms of the origi-
nal six prose paragraphs or in terms of the later 57 separated-out Significant Statements, but
294 D. HANSON AND JON KLIMa

rather in tenus of the Structural Units. In the sample protocol being used here, the Final Struc-
tural Summary and the prior Structural Summary are identical.

Step 7: Comprehensive Thematic Structures

A total of 16 Comprehensive Thematic Structures were derived from the Final Struc-
tural Summary. They are listed under step 8 as they are grouped in terms of the original 57
Significant Statements and according to the final 16 Constituent Themes that they led to
and helped comprise.

Step 8: Constituent Themes

In order to give the reader a more direct sense of these results, the presentation of each
of the 16 Comprehensive Thematic Structures begins with the final Constituent Theme (in
boldface) for which they are responsible.
Following each set of grouped Comprehensive Thematic Structures is the researchers'
paraphrasing of them as Reflection ofa Theme, if applicable, identified by italics to distin-
guish it from the subject's own directly quoted material in the Comprehensive Thematic
Structures and their numbered Significant Statements.
Notice that some Comprehensive Thematic Structures are repeated, contributing to
more than one final Constituent Theme. Also, keep in mind that the 16 final Constituent
Themes were derived from all 24 subjects, not from just the single sample protocol being
offered here. Please note that each Comprehensive Thematic Structure led to a particular
Constituent Theme as indicated.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 1: Point of Embarkation):
I. When I was 19 I was living on a farm with some friends.
2. I had a very strong desire to live communally with people seeking spiritual values.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 2: Identification of the
Desire, Need, or Goal):
2. I had a very strong desire to live communally with people seeking spiritual values.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 3: Gather Information):
3. When I had come upon this farm it was after a lot of searching.
4. There was so much of it going on at that time, but I just never felt comfortable in
the different places I ended up.
Reflection of Theme (re: statements 3, 4): In her awareness of and searching for
spiritual communities, she is gathering information regarding the achieve-
ment of her goal.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 4: Action Taken Toward
Desire, Need, or Goal):
3. When I had come upon this farm it was after a lot of searching.
Reflection of Theme: Her searching for a spiritual community entailed conscious
direction on her part toward the desired goal.
51. I went down to the community and spent the next 10 years there.
Reflection ofTheme: Her departure for the spiritual community discovered by her
friend was a conscious action taken toward her goal.
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 295

11. Just an impulse. Hadn't really planned it.

13. As I was going for the walk I was thinking that I needed to make a decision on
what was happening there and that I needed my own space to think about it and
to figure out what I was going to do with it.
14. I remember coming to the conclusion that I had to leave the farm.
Reflection o/Theme (re: statements 11, 13, 14): Following her impulse to take a
day hike was an unconscious action taken that resulted in the privacy to
process her situation and conclude she must leave the farm.

Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 5: Change Occurs):

14. I remember coming to the conclusion that I had to leave the farm.
15. All of a sudden in my mind I realized that I had to do that.
16. But I felt very good about it and decided to cast my fate to the wind.
Reflection o/Theme (re: statements 14-16): The change occurs as she moves to
being at ease with leaving without a destination.

Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 6: Resistance to Possi-

bilities or Changes):
9. There wasn't the spiritual focus I had been hoping for, but I didn't want to admit
it to myself because I really wanted to be settled.
Reflection o/Theme: She is resistant to acknowledging the lack of a spiritual fo-
cus at the farm out of her desire to be settled.

Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 7: Surrender of Control):

14. I remember coming to the conclusion that I had to leave the farm.
15. All of a sudden in my mind I realized that I had to do that.
16. But I felt very good about it and decided to cast my fate to the wind.
Reflection o/Theme (re: statements 14-16): She surrenders control of the form her
desire for a spiritual community will take and decides to leave the farm with-
out a known destination.
20. It felt OK for me to do that.
Reflection o/Theme: She experienced a change from her resistance to moving on
to a feeling of it being okay to do that.

Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 8: Time Lapse):

There is no Comprehensive Thematic Structure in this sample protocol that relates to Con-
stituent Theme 8.

Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 9: Promptings):

10. One day I woke early and decided to go on a day hike by myself.
11. Just an impulse. Hadn't really planned it.
Reflection o/Theme (re: statements 10, 11): She experienced an impulse that led
to a decision to go on a day hike alone.

Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 10: Synchronistic

Occurrences):
10. One day I woke early and decided to go on a day hike by myself.
11. Just an impUlse. Hadn't really planned it.
12. I remember that day vividly.
296 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

13. As I was going for the walk I was thinking that I needed to make a decision on
what was happening there and that I needed my own space to think about it and
to figure out what I was going to do with it.
14. I remember coming to the conclusion that I had to leave the farm.
15. All of a sudden in my mind I realized that I had to do that.
16. But I felt very good about it and decided to cast my fate to the wind.
17. I really believe in the flow and I wanted to become a part of it.
21. When I returned I found everyone had been packing up to leave throughout the
day.
22. It was a very big surprise.
23. Earlier that morning the landlord came out and demanded everyone leave by
nightfall.
24. Seems he got a notion about not having a bunch of hippies on his land. Never
bothered him before.
Reflection of Theme (re: statements 10-17,21-24): The meaningful coincidence
occurred between her inner decision to leave the farm, while unbeknownst to
her, the landlord had evicted the group without warning or apparent motive.
30. It was about 7:30 [P.M.] when we found ourselves hitchhiking into Portland think-
ing we would spend the night with some friends we knew.
37. I had absolutely no idea where we were going to go.
47. When we arrived at the house where our friends lived one of them, Peter, had
come back from California where he had found a spiritual community.
48. He was planning to leave the very next morning to go back down to live there.
49. He had bought an old station wagon, so there was room for us to go too.
50. I knew that's why we ended up at his doorstep that night.
Reflection of Theme (re: statements 30-37, 47-50). The meaningful coincidence
occurred between her inner surrender of control regarding a known destina-
tion and, without foreknowledge, finding herself at the residence of a friend
who was leaving the following morning for a spiritual community and there
was room for her to accompany him.
51. I went down to the community and spent the next 10 years there.
53. These years were very formative to my own spirituality, to undying friendships
and also to my marriage.
54. It's where I met my husband.
55. I really know that I was meant to be in that community.
56. That was the experience that got me there.
57. That experience was waiting for me and I was waiting for it.
Reflection of Theme (re: statements 10-17,21-24,30,37,47-51,53-57): Two
synchronistic occurrences combine in a meaningful way to culminate in her
arrival to a right and desired spiritual community. She also met her future
husband while there.

Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 11: Risk):

19. On that day I said, here we go again, I'm just going to have to do it again because
this just isn't right.
35. All this other time I had been traveling I always had a destination.
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 297

36. This time I really knew that I was really casting my fate to the wind.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 19,35,36): The risk is contained in her deci-
sion to leave without a known destination. This is new behavior for her and
therefore carries the risk of unknown consequences.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 12: Peak Experience):
34. When I got back to the farm I saw everything just as a confirmation to what I
knew I needed to do.
31. I remember feeling very peaceful inside.
32. We were hitch hiking on this mountain road and I remember thinking I probably
should be afraid, or on my guard.
33. We were far from the city.
36. This time I really knew that I was really casting my fate to the wind.
37. I had absolutely no idea where we were going to go.
38. I really felt like I finally was able to move with it.
39. It was an exhilarating feeling, very powerful.
40. I really knew that everything was happening the way it should be.
41. I said, 'Marcia, don't worry, the Father will take care of us.'
42. I had complete faith that everything would be all right.
43. It was very much like being caught up in a wave.
44. It was like not being in control of what was happening, but it was all right.
45. I knew ifI surrendered to it I could ride on the power of it.
46. And it was a powerful exhilarating feeling.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 34, 31-33, 36-46): While experiencing height-
ened awareness of her connection to a non-ego-based power, she has thoughts
of her vulnerability, but is simultaneously without fear. She experiences being
caught up in and moving with a non-ego-based power that requires a surren-
der of her control. It was non-threatening for her to surrender control of what
was happening. The experience evokes in her complete faith in the rightness
of the process and that she will be taken care of by a transcendent element.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 13: Assignment of
Meaning):
4. There was so much of it going on at that time, but I just never felt comfortable in
the different places I ended up.
Reflection of Theme: Although she was aware of the existence of many spiritual
communities, at this point her search to find a comfortable one had been
fruitless.
5. I thought, 'this is it' when I first moved in.
Reflection of Theme: She thought that she had found a community that fit her
needs when she first moved in at the farm.
6. I was tired of being rootless.
8. But after a few months I was beginning to feel perhaps this was not it.
Reflection of Theme (re: statement 8): After a few months, she began to feel that
perhaps the community did not fill her needs.
34. When I got back to the farm I saw everything just as a confirmation to what I
knew I needed to do.
298 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

Reflection ofTheme: Upon returning from her hike to find that she and her friends
had been evicted, she saw everything happening as a confirmation of her de-
cision to leave the farm.
55. I really know that I was meant to be in that community.
56. That was the experience that got me there.
57. That experience was waiting for me and I was waiting for it.
Reflection of Theme (re: statements 55-57): The experience in its totality was
waiting for her as she waited for it to bring her to the spiritual community
that was to offer the culmination of her right and desired outcome.
53. These years were very formative to my own spirituality, to undying friendships
and also to my marriage.
54. It's where I met my husband.
Reflection of Theme (re: statements 53, 54): The years that she spent in the spiri-
tual community were very formative to her spirituality, to undying friend-
ships, and also to her marriage as she met her husband there.
32. We were hitch hiking on this mountain road and I remember thinking I probably
should be afraid, or on my guard.
33. We were far from the city.
37. I had absolutely no idea where we were going to go.
41. I said, 'Marcia, don't worry, the Father will take care of us.'
42. I had complete faith that everything would be all right.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 32, 33, 37, 41, 42): She expresses to her friend
her faith and trust in a transcendent element to take care of them regarding
their safety and their ultimate destination.
40. I really knew that everything was happening the way it should be.
Reflection of Theme: She really knew that the events and circumstances that had
transpired to take them from the farm were part of a predetermined order.
55. I really know that I was meant to be in that community.
Reflection of Theme: She really knows that her presence in the spiritual commu-
nity was part of a predetermined order.
Comprehensive Theme Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 14: Faith or Trust):
41. I said, 'Marcia, don't worry, the Father will take care of us.'
42. I had complete faith that everything would be all right.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 41, 42); The meaning that emanates is that she
can trust the process and outcome of her experience. The meaning that em-
anates is trust and faith that a transcendent element will provide both safety
and right outcome.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 15: Circumstances or
Events Leading to a Right and Desired Outcome):
1. When I was 19 I was living on a farm with some friends.
2. I had a very strong desire to live communally with people seeking spiritual values.
3. When I had come upon this farm it was after a lot of searching.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 1-3): Considerable searching for her desire to
live communally with people seeking spiritual growth led to the farm where
she currently lived with friends.
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 299

10. One day I woke early and decided to go on a day hike by myself.
11. Just an impulse. Hadn't really planned it.
13. As I was going for the walk I was thinking that I needed to make a decision on
what was happening there and that I needed my own space to think about it and
to figure out what I was going to do with it.
14. I remember coming to the conclusion that I had to leave the farm.
19. On that day I said here we go again, I'm just going to have to do this again be-
cause this just isn't right.
20. It felt OK for me to do that.
Reflection of Theme (re: statements 10, 11, 13, 14, 19,20): Her impulse decision
to go on a day hike gave her the opportunity to assess the situation as inade-
quate for her needs, come to the conclusion to leave the farm, and be open
to another possibility.
21. When I returned I found everyone had been packing up to leave throughout the day.
23. Earlier that morning the landlord came out and demanded everyone leave by
nightfall.
25. No motive.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 21,23,25): On returning from her hike, she
found that the landlord had synchronistically, for no apparent reason, evicted
her and her friends, demanding that they leave by nightfall.
30. It was about 7 :30 when we found ourselves hitch hiking into Portland thinking we
would spend the night with some friends we knew.
Reflection ofTheme: At nightfall, the circumstances of the eviction from the farm
called for her and her friends to hike into town in hopes of spending the night
with friends there.
31. I remember feeling very peaceful inside.
32. We were hitch hiking on this mountain road and I remember thinking I probably
should be afraid, or on my guard.
33. We were far from the city.
34. When I got back to the farm I saw everything just as a confirmation to what I
knew I needed to do.
35. All this other time I had been traveling I always had a destination.
36. This time I really knew that I really was casting my fate to the wind.
37. I had absolutely no idea where we were going to go.
38. I really felt like I finally was able to move with it.
39. It was an exhilarating feeling, very powerful.
40. I really knew that everything was happening the way it should be.
41. I said, 'Marcia, don't worry, the Father will take care of us.'
42. I had complete faith that everything would be all right.
43. It was very much like being caught up in a wave.
44. It was like not being in control of what was happening, but it was all right.
45. I knew if! surrendered to it I could ride on the power of it.
46. And it was a powerful exhilarating feeling.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 31-46): The peak experience that had ensued
on her hike held at bay her fears for safety en route, as well as her lack of
control regarding an ultimate destination.
300 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

47. When we arrived at the house where our friends lived one of them, Peter, had
come back from California where he had found a spiritual community.
48. He was planning to leave the very next morning to go back down to live there.
49. He had bought a station wagon, so we could fit in there too.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 47-49): On arrival, she found that one of her
friends had synchronistic ally just returned from a trip wherein he had dis-
covered a spiritual community, was returning there, had bought a station
wagon with extra room, and would take them with him.
50. I knew that's why we ended up at his doorstep that night.
51. I went down to the community and spent the next 10 years there.
Reflection ofTheme (re: statements 50, 51): She gave the offer significant mean-
ing, and took the opportunity to travel to a spiritual community, where she re-
mained for 10 years.
Comprehensive Thematic Structure (basis of Constituent Theme 16: Speculation on the
Future):
There is no Comprehensive Thematic Structure in this sample protocol that relates to Con-
stituent Theme 16. This theme was contributed to by enough of the other 23 subjects for it
to be one of the 16 Final Constituent Themes.

Step 9 and 10: Comprehensive Constituent Summary with Percentages of Occurrence

The 16 Constituent Themes that were generated, most of which contained a number of
subcategories, are listed here in the order that makes the most sense, given the unfolding of
most of the subjects' experiences. Percentages of occurrence of each theme across all sub-
jects are included. In addition, examples of Significant Statements, drawn from various
subjects, are given, one such statement for one subcategory for each theme. These examples
will provide the reader with a sense of how the final Comprehensive Constituent Themes
have their roots in, and were derived from, the primary data.
1. Point of Embarkation (100%). Represents the beginning point of the experience
and is found within the first Significant Statements. Significant is the wide range
of subcategories: (a) homeostasis; (b) trauma; (c) stress; (d) premonition; (e)
change; (f) identification of desire, need, or goal; (g) figure-ground shift. An ex-
ample of (b): "I participated in a Healing the Child Within seminar."
2. Identification of the Desire, Need, or Goal (100%). Subcategories: (a) preexperi-
ence; (b) following figure-ground shift, major life change, or trauma; (c) through
focused attention; (d) post-experience. Example of (a): "I had a very strong desire
to live communally with people seeking spiritual values."
3. Gather Information (includes intuition and precognition) (100%). Subcategories:
(a) regarding possible routes to desired goal; (b) regarding location of self in life-
world. Example of (b): "I began to look seriously at my work situation, with which
I had been dissatisfied for years."
4. Action Taken Toward Desire, Need, or Goal (100%). Subcategories: (a) conscious
striving; (b) despite resistance; (c) without recognition of reason/logic, uncon-
scious. Example of (a): "I practiced my breathing with great diligence (or months
in preparation for my daughter's birth."
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 301

5. Change Occurs (100%). Subcategories: (a) self-induced; (b) other than self-
induced. Example of (a): "Things went back to normal."
6. Resistance to Possibilities or Changes (70%). Subcategories: (a) within self; (b)
by others; (c) by circumstances or events. Example of (a): "I was going off and
didn't want to be tied down."
7. Surrender of Control (45%). Subcategories: (a) regarding what form desire or
goal will take; (b) regarding change; (c) to other than ego-bound power. Example
of (a): "I consciously decided to surrender to the pain."
8. Time Lapse. (22%). Example: "After five months I had experienced no change."
9. Promptings (61%). Subcategories: (a) by an inner urge; (b) by feeling compelled;
(c) by premonitions; (d) by intuitive knowing; (e) by attraction. Example of (b):
"It was very uncomfortable, but I was still being drawn by his absolute uncom-
promising clarity that he wanted to have a relationship with me."
10. Synchronistic Occurrences (56%). Subcategories: (a) meaningful coincidence be-
tween mental content and an outer event; (b) an image (dream, vision, or premo-
nition) about the future that does occur; (c) a series of synchronistic events
culminating in a right and desired outcome. Example of (a) that reflects five Sig-
nificant Statements comprising one Structural Unit and one Comprehensive The-
matic Structure: "Maria said during the June Life's Work course, 'Let's write a
book on life's work together.'This was unforeseen. About this same time a manu-
script was returned to me. And I saw that my thesis [for the article], that Alice's
journey to Wonderland was a journey to the accordance of individual self/iden-
tity and universal self/identity, could be used as a sort of framework, or guiding in-
spiration, for the book on discovering one's life-work or purpose. It was as though
both were the same."
11. Risk (action taken against unknown odds) (96%). Example: "Against my better
judgment, I began to do what was suggested to me, based on my 'willingness to
be willing.' "
12. Peak Experience, Spiritual Experience, or Transpersonal State of Consciousness
(46%). Subcategories: (a) relative; (b) absolute. An example of (b) is represented
by the following four Significant Statements: "It was an exhilarating feeling, very
powerful. I really knew that everything was happening the way it should be. I said,
'Marcia, don't worry, the Father will take care of us.' I had complete faith that
everything would be all right."
13. Assignment of Meaning (100%). Subcategories: (a) regarding process of experi-
ence; (b) regarding self; (c) regarding others; (d) regarding gains; (e) regarding
life; (f) regarding human experience; (g) regarding the transcendent (includes
faith); (h) regarding mystery; (i) regarding destiny or fate. Example of (b): "I was
tired of being rootless."
14. Faith or Trust (43%). Indicates faith or trust in the final outcome, or in a non-ego-
based element of the experience. Subcategories: (a) in outcome; (b) in non-ego-
based element. Example of (a): "I had complete faith that everything would be all
right."
15. Circumstances or Events Leading to a Right and Desired Outcome (100%). These
represent stepping-stones of the experience from the Point of Embarkation to its
culmination in a Right and Desired Outcome. Significant Statements reflecting
302 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

this theme were specific to the flow of the experience of each reporter. Subcate-
gories: (a) with accompanying awareness; (b) with retrospective awareness. An
example of (b): "I was giving birth at home and went into my back yard."
16. Speculation on the Future (57%). Subcategories: (a) regarding self; (b) regarding
self and other(s). Example of (a): "I have no doubt that I'm going to succeed in
everything I do."

INTEGRATION, ANALYSIS, AND SPECULATION

After careful reflection on the 16 Constituent Themes, three primary categories were
formulated in order to understand these findings on a more integrated level:
1. Meaning, which includes choice and intention, and the concept of subjects "co-
creating" their own lives.
2. "Synchronistic teleology," which includes a dynamic pattern of directional, purpose-
ful movement with synchronistic aspects, and with less or no presence or efficacy of
conscious intention. Here, synchronicity appears to be one of the key ways in which
the teleological flow manifests itself in our experience. Synchronicity is the acausal
connector, matchmaker, "cosmic glue," or transcendent intelligence that brings peo-
ple and events together in nonordinary ways [Maslow's (1962) concept of peak ex-
perience appears to characterize this aspect of the experience for the subjects].
3. What might he termed the New Metaphysics, or the emerging paradigm, that might
help us better understand the kind of synchronistic experience focused on in this
study.

Meaning
As mentioned above, all of the subjects, to varying degrees and in varying ways, were
moved to make meaning for themselves out of the experiences they described. That is, the
meaning-making aspect was an integral part of "the experience of being carried along by a
series or flow of unforeseen circumstances or events culminating in a right and desired out-
come." In the aforecited words ofleading existential thinker Frankl (1963, p. 154): "The
striving to find a meaning in one's life is the primary motivational force in man." Recall,
also, that Jung originally defined synchronicity as being "meaningful coincidence," or co-
incidental or "acausal" connections that are deemed personally meaningful by those who
are experiencing them.
Consider, then, this subject of personal meaning making in light of the Constituent
Themes (CTs): CT 2-Identification of the Desire, Need, or Goal, CT 3-Gather Informa-
tion, CT l6-Speculation on the Future, and CT 14-Faith or Trust are all associated with
how subjects assigned meaning to their experience, as opposed to what meanings they
might have assigned. With regard to the latter (i.e., what meanings), CT I-Point of Em-
barkation, CT 5-Change Occurs, CT 100Synchronistic Occurrences, CT 12-Peak or
Spiritual Experiences, and CT l5-Circumstances or Events Leading to a Right and De-
sired Outcome, are all, to varying degrees, categories of meaning that subjects assigned to
aspects of their experience.
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 303

CT 3-Gather Information and CT 13-Assignment of Meaning are found across all

protocols and represent the circulatory system of the experience. These themes occur re-
peatedly and seemingly at random throughout the experience. In combination, they portray
a process wherein the reporter takes in information regarding both location of self in his or
her life-world and of possible routes to a desire, need, or goal that he or she is aware of, and
then applies meaning to the information.
Consider CT 13-Assignment of Meaning: Csikszentmihalyi's (1990) breakdown of
the common usage of applied meaning was evidenced in the protocols. Reporters assigned
meaning that pointed toward an end, purpose, or significance of their experiences, as in
"the meaning of life." This use of meaning reflected their assumption that events are linked
to each other in terms of an ultimate goal. That this aspect of meaning implies teleology as
well shows how deeply interrelated these two primary categories are and demonstrates
how difficult it is to separate them out in certain respects. Also within the domain of mean-
ing making is the complex issue of the extent to which we have free will, choice, and in-
tention that can affect the nature of our lived world and the extent to which it is, so to
speak, out of our hands.
Variations of CT 2-Identification of the Desire, Need, or Goal describe a holistic,
nonordinary model of the process by which individuals may be seen to cocreate their lives.
Recall that 14 of the 16 final Constituent Themes were comprised of two or more subcate-
gories. For example, under CT 2, the subcategory of preexperience identification describes
the process by which participants have already arrived at a chosen focus of attention and
then proceed to go about their role in achieving it. In other words, the reporters gather in-
formation regarding what their positions are in relation to the goal, and regarding possible
routes to the goal (CT 3), apply meaning to that information (CT 13), and take action (CT
4), and change occurs (CT 5), moving them one step closer to the desired outcome (CT 15).
That process is then repeated for each successive step in arriving at the right and desired
outcome. At the same time, within that process, they will be repeating miniversions of the
same process with each decision made. As the individuals move along, they mayor may not
be aware of other factors participating in their progress beyond their own efforts. This real-
ization often comes after their arrival at the goal. Along with this realization may come
recognition that within the process of achieving the preidentified goal, they have also
achieved a right and desired outcome held within it that was not necessarily anticipated.
Continuing with this process of cocreating one's life, identification of one's desire,
need, or goal is sudden and charged with energy and meaning. The picture changes with this
charge of energy. In CT 2, the individual may have a strong attachment to the form that the
desired outcome will take, may resist possibilities or changes that do not fit that precon-
ceived form (CT 6a), and may need to surrender control of the form (CT 7a) in order to
reach a desired outcome. Often, in protocols in which this scenario presented itself, syn-
chronistic occurrences (CT 10) and/or spiritual experiences (CT 12) followed surrender and
a perceived standstill in progress (CT 8).
In subcategory (d) of CT 2-Identification ofthe Desire, Need, or Goal comes with a
"postexperience recognition." The individual seems to move from stepping-stone to step-
ping-stone (CT 15) without consciously choosing to do so with any specific cumulative
outcome in mind (CT 4c) change occurs (CT 5), one mayor may not identify an interme-
diate goal along the way (CT 2), one experiences synchronistic occurrences (CT 10) as well
as spiritual experiences (CT 12), and arrives at the time of the report recognizing a right and
 304 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

desired outcome in culmination of the experience. This particular facet of the experience,
as described by subcategory CT 2d, often covers many years. In such cases, meaning as-
signed is primarily regarding personal growth.
Subcategories CT 2a and 2b reflect the experiences of those who are more conscious
of both their personal power to create their lives and what the desired outcome is. Many
spend a lot of energy striving to achieve that outcome on their own, only to recognize along
the way that it takes more than their individual efforts, that some kind oftrans-egoic or tran-
scendental processes are needed in order to reach their goa1. Surrender is an important is-
sue as these subjects open to possibilities beyond the form of the desire that they are
attached to. In addition, when this surrender of control is charged with risk, it often results
in a peak experience. These individuals perceive themselves as getting to where they needed
to go, but were often not aware of their need until it was fulfilled.

Synchronistic Teleology
Recall that teleology attributes a character or quality to nature and/or natural processes
of being directed toward an end or shaped by an inherent purpose. De Chardin (1961) per-
ceived a teleological "pull," in the evolutionary process, toward increased awareness, com-
plexity, and freedom. In this view, evolution is characterized both by the organism's
freedom to choose and by its inner sense of "right" direction. Jung's process of individua-
tion (Clarke, 1992), as part of its definition, portrays the psyche as essentially goal- or aim-
directed, and therefore requires understanding in teleological terms.
We see this category, which we are calling synchronistic teleology, as expanding to in-
clude an entire kind ofBohmian holomovement or Eastern-type holism (described below),
a dynamic pattern of goal-oriented, purposeful, nonordinary action that appears to contain
a number of stages or steps that are related by the acausal connectionism of synchronicity.
The following CTs reflect this interpretation:
Subcategories CT 2a and 2b reflect the reporters' self-assertion in their choices of de-
sired outcomes in their lives. Increased awareness is seen in their Assignment of Meaning
(CT 13) to the pattern of events that unfold following that self-assertion. A correlation is
also seen in subcategory CT 2d, where a teleological pull is evidenced by the self-defined
"personal growth" of the reporters.
The inner sense of "right direction" is visible in Assignment of Meaning (CT 13) in the
applying of meaning to the Gathering ofInformation (CT 3) in terms of the "rightness" of
the process of the experience and one's role in it. CT 9-Promptings can be seen as con-
tributing to an inner sense of "right" direction in terms of resulting Action Taken (CT 4) oc-
curring across the stepping-stones ofCT 15 in reaching the desired outcome.
CTs 4 and 5 represent the mechanics of the teleological flow experience and appear to
indicate the movement of the experience, as well as the way in which movement occurs.
These two CTs appear to comprise a set that describes one mode of movement inherent to
the experience by revealing movement through a cause-and-effect perspective, or what could
be referred to as "ordinary movement." In other words, the reporters repeatedly experienced
change following action taken toward a desire, need, or goal culminating in movement. Tele-
ological flow, however, is not necessarily comprised of "ordinary movement."
CTs 9 and 10 also comprise a set that can be seen as describing movement, and, in this
way, revealing movement of an acausal nature, or what could be referred to as "nonordinary
PHENOMENOLOGY OF SYNCHRONICITY 305

movement." In other words, the reporters experienced a synchronistic occurrence during the
experience following one or more promptings to act that culminated in movement (as re-
vealed by CT 15).
CTs 6 and 7 comprise a set that indicates the rhythm or wave action of the experience.
In CT 6, the reporters resist possibilities or change (contraction); in CT 7, they surrender
control (expansion), which involves risk (CT 11).

The "New Metaphysics": Bohmian Holomovement and Eastern Holism

This investigation of the experience of being carried along by a series or flow of un-
foreseen circumstances or events culminating in a right and desired outcome produced find-
ings that are consistent with what both age-old Eastern philosophy and contemporary
postclassic physics tell us about the way the world may indeed be operating. According to the
theoretical physicist David Bohm (1980), the phenomenal world that we observe in our or-
dinary states of consciousness represents only one partial aspect of reality-what he calls the
explicate or unfolded order. Its generative matrix-the implicate or enfolded order-
exists on another, subsuming level of reality and cannot be directly observed. In Bohm's the-
ory, the term "implicate" refers to an order of undivided wholeness wherein many elements
are holistically compressed or enfolded together. They are implicate; that is, they have not yet
become apparent, defined, or explicit as separate elements in reflective awareness.
In CT 4 (Action Taken Toward Desire, Need, or Goal), CT 5 (Change Occurs), CT 7
(Surrender of Control), and CT 15 (Circumstances or Events leading to a Right and Desired
Outcome), there may be a relationship between the experience of being carried along by a
series or flow of unforeseen circumstances or events culminating in a right and desired out-
come, on one hand, and David Bohm's concept of what he calls the "holomovement," on the
other. Bohm embeds this holomovement in what he calls a super-implicate order, a higher
order that serves to organize the implicate order, which in turn is responsible for the orga-
nization of all relatively stable forms with complex structures on the explicate level of time,
space, matter, and energy. In many ways, the experience in question may be the epitome of
how we as human beings become aware of this holomovement as it unfolds in our conscious
experience.
Bohm's view of such an unfolding holomovement is related to a number of other per-
spectives, including Bergson's (1975) writing on duration and Whitehead's (1925) philoso-
phy of process. However, it is Eastern philosophical perspectives on the nature and
workings of the universe that bear the closest resemblance to Bohm's holomovement, the
worldview of contemporary physics, and our earlier discussions of meaning and syn-
chronicity.
Aspects of the various Eastern worldviews, as characterized by the Vedic literature, for
example, are intrinsically dynamic, and contain time and change as essential features. The
cosmos is seen as one inseparable reality-forever in motion, alive, organic, spiritual and
material at the same time. Motion and change are seen as essential properties of things. Ac-
cording to the Indian philosopher Coomaraswamy (1977):
We are deceived if we allow ourselves to believe that there is ever a pause in the flow of being,
a resting place where positive existence is attained for even the briefest duration of time. It is only
by shutting our eyes to the succession of events that we come to speak of things rather than
processes.
306 D. HANSON AND JON KLiMO

Quantum physics seems to be in agreement with this view. In the words of Werner
Heisenberg (1962), a pioneer of subatomic physics:
This agreement (in concepts) between modem physics and the deeper understandings of the
mystics demonstrate that in the real world surrounding us, it is not the geometric forms, but the dy-
namic laws concerning movement, or coming into being and passing away, which are permanent .
. . . The world appears as a complicated tissue of events, in which connections of different kinds al-
ternate or overlap or combine and thereby determine the texture of the whole.

This is echoed by Tibetan Buddhist Lama Govinda (1973, p. 93) who writes:
The external world and his inner world are for [the Buddhist) only two sides of the same fab-
ric, in which the threads of all forces and of all events, of all forms of consciousness and their ob-
jects, are woven into an inseparable net of endless, mutually conditioned relations.

CONCLUSION

This study has attempted to elucidate the meaning of one kind of experience and re-
veal its essence. This experience-being carried along by a series or flow of unforeseen cir-
cumstances or events culminating in a right and desired outcome-is idiosyncratic,
complex, and difficult to objectify and analyze. It appears to be nonordinary or paranor-
mal in nature and may possess transcendent or spiritual characteristics, satisfying many of
Maslow's (1962) criteria for both peak experience and self-actualization. It has transper-
sonal implications for understanding the true nature of human experience and the lived
world in a nonpathological, even optimum-performance or normal-reality-transcending,
sense. Studying the experience has led us to a new concept "synchronistic teleological
flow," suggesting a new field of study we might call "teleological synchronicity." It is a real
test of any phenomenological investigative process to attempt to study such an experience
and reflect on the varieties of meanings revealed. We stress the word attempt here, because
even the kind of explorations and speculations offered above are just a beginning in our at-
tempts to understand the far-reaching implications of our findings.
We welcome you to join us in reflecting further on this process. It is noteworthy that
fully half of the first hundred people approached to take part in this study felt that they had
had such an experience, leading us to reasonably suspect that this kind of experience is
more widespread than some might think. This, in turn, suggests that the universe, as we hu-
man beings are capable of experiencing it, does have some transcendental, purposeful qual-
ities that are not only real, but identifiable. We may be face-to-face here with empirical,
experiential evidence, not just for the ego-based, material world as we normally perceive
it, but for a world that is basically holistic, even spiritual, in nature.

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 14

The Experience of Being Silent

Ourania Marcandonatou (Elite)

I am a f0ice speaking softly.

I exist from the first.
I dwell within the Silence . ..
And it is the hidden Voice that dwells within me,
Within the incomprehensible, immeasurable Thought,
Within the immeasurable Silence.
-Trimorphic Protennoia

SILENCE IN PSYCHOLOGY, PHILOSOPHY, AND SPIRITUAL TRADITIONS

Silence has captivated the human psyche from time immemorial. In the fables of the
Golden Age, it is said that primordial humankind understood the language of all animals,
trees, rocks, and natural elements. This first language, it is believed, came from the fullness
of silence and communion with the Divine, in which the Divine and the individual existed
as one. The biblical "fall" refers to the awareness of the separation between the individual
and the Divine. It was precisely because of this standing out of individuals from the pri-
mordial wholeness and oneness of all things in the Divine that this union was broken and
the dual nature of reality emerged. In turn, the self or ego was born and the incessant strug-
gle for reconnection or union with the Divine was initiated.
The ego has played a pivotal part in understanding the workings of one's inner life. In
psychotherapy, the search for truth takes place in a supportive environment where being
silent and listening is widely used by both the therapist and the client. In that environment,
being silent helps bring into the light aspects of the individual's true self. Consequently, be-
ing silent in psychotherapy often leads one to understanding and accepting oneself.

Ourania Marcandonatou (Elite) • School of Liberal Arts, John F. Kennedy University, Orinda, California 94563.

309
 310 OURANIA MARCANDONATOU (ELITE)

Transpersonal psychology, a more recent development in the field of psychology,

views the individual as a whole: body, mind, and spirit. It goes beyond the limits of the ego-
self toward the transcendent/spiritual Self. Anthony Sutich (1969), a cofounder of this new
psychology, describes transpersonal psychology in terms mostly concerned with individ-
ual and species-wide meta-needs, values, transcendental phenomena, transcendence of the
self, mystical and peak experiences, ultimate meaning, cosmic awareness, unitive con-
sciousness, oneness, spirit, ecstasy, bliss, playfulness, maximal sensory awareness, and re-
lated concepts, experiences, and activities.
In particular, Abraham Maslow studies different aspects of the human being (e.g., cre-
ativity, values, need hierarchy, deficiency versus being motivation). He is best known for his
work on self-actualization. Maslow (1971) defined self-actualization as "experiencing fully,
vividly, selflessly, with full concentration and total absorption" (p. 45), while he termed
peak experiences as ''the best moments of the human being ... the happiest moments oflife
... experiences of ecstasy, rapture, bliss ... the greatest joy" (p. 105). He went on to say that
perception in the peak experiences can be relatively ego-transcending, self-forgetful, ego-
less, detached, desire less, and unselfish.
Inherent in true silence is a state of consciousness that includes the aforementioned
transpersonal aspects of Self. This state is attained through the control of one's own body,
mind, heart, and speech. Silence, as an aid to worship and/or a method of understanding the
working of one's mind, has been practiced among larger or smaller groups of people
throughout history and in almost all parts of the world. In the world of philosophy, Pythago-
ras and Socrates placed great importance on silence as a means of initiation and as a way of
acquiring inner knowledge (Hastings, 1924).
In more recent times, Max Picard (1948), a renowned Swiss philosopher, examined
and studied in detail the positive phenomenon of silence. He believes that silence is pro-
found because it simply is and thereby belongs to the basic structure of being human. For
him, silence is the origin of all speech. In his classic and poetic book, The World ofSilence,
Picard (1948) wrote that there is no beginning or end to silence because it contains every-
thing within itself. He also believes that silence points to the state of the Divine and that this
is why one finds most practitioners of silence in monastic settings.
In the Eastern Orthodox Christian tradition, there are the hesychasts, individuals who
have attained inner stillness, tranquility, repose, concentration, and/or silence (Colliander,
1982). In the Western Christian tradition, there are the Carmelites and the Trappists. In the
Buddhist tradition, one finds monastics and lay people alike practicing meditation for ex-
tended periods of time. In the Native American tradition, one finds shamans as well as lay
people undertaking the sacred experience of vision questing in remote mountains and
deserts. The vision quest is a rite of passage in which for four days and nights questers re-
main in a solitary spot, fasting and being inwardly centered and silent in order to have a vi-
sion or a sign that will trigger insight (Foster & Little, 1987).
The most important aspect of silence is that of listening. It is curious to note that the
word silent is an anagram of the word listen, so that one cannot be present without the other.
They both bring one to the absolute centeredness of one's being. Brother David Steindl-Rast
is a Benedictine monk and a pioneer in the dialogue that is taking place between the East
and the West. Steindl-Rast (1984) talks about silence as being an attitude of listening-a
gift that each one of us is invited to give the other. This is a special kind of listening; it is a
listening with one's heart, one's whole being. By listening in this way, one opens to the mys-
tery and meaning of personal existence.
THE EXPERIENCE OF BEING SILENT 311

One finds that being silent for extended periods of time is deeply and intimately con-
nected to the heart. Most spiritual traditions point the way to the heart, where knowledge,
meaning, and ultimate transcendence emerge. It is considered to be the ground for the Divine
as well as the ground of one's being. Sogyal Rinpoche (1992), in his book The Tibetan Book
ofLiving and Dying, writes that the mind cannot realize absolute truth. It is only through the
heart and beyond the ordinary mind that one can attain absolute truth. In the Buddhist tradi-
tion, compassion/loving-kindness and wisdom are the cornerstones of an enlightened being.
Compassion is manifested in the Bodhisattva vow, which one takes in order to gain enlight-
enment not just for oneself, but for the sake of all sentient beings (Goleman, 1988).
In the same vein, the Eastern Orthodox Christians talk about the no us, which is the
spiritual mind-where the mind gets baptized within the heart in order to manifest the in-
nermost aspect of the heart. Communion with the nous leads one to enlightenment (pho-
tismos) or deification (theosis) (Palmer, Sherrard, & Kallistos, 1984).
Sri Ramana Maharshi, a renowned yogi in the Hindu tradition, believed that the Self
resides within the heart. Symbolically, the "heart" is the same as God, Self, existence, the
Great Mystery, bliss, the eternal, and the seat of consciousness. It is not only the very core
of one's being but also its spiritual center. It is the consciousness of consciousness, the
thinking of thinking, and the feeling of feeling (Ramana Maharshi, 1978).
In much the same way, being silent during a vision quest creates a certain monotony
for the ordinary mind, which may lead to boredom and then sleep. This allows the real Self,
the Self directed by the heart, to emerge and speak. At this point, reality becomes pure and
the vision becomes manifest (Brown, 1988). The Native American tradition is considered to
be an earth tradition. It is interesting to note that the anagram of the word earth is heart.
These particular spiritual traditions became venues for my own search for the ground
of being or the Divine. My interest and passion for silence grew from my early experiences
of growing up in East Africa, where silence and nature were an integral part of my exis-
tence. I remember reveling in silence and playing in the abundance of the natural beauty
that surrounded me. At a very young age, I began paying attention to minute occurrences of
my psyche's constant fluctuations among stillness, peace, and loss. I learned that nature was
my container and healer and that I could retreat into the quiet natural beauty of it all and be
safe and peaceful. I found that by being silent I was connected and in communion not only
with the Divine but also with the centermost part of my being. At an early age, I experi-
enced that they were both one and the same.
In my adult years, I have continued exploring this relationship with my inner self
through vision quests, spending time in solitude in various monastic settings and retreat
centers, as well as observing silence within my own home. Since my time in silence has
been so personally profound, I wanted to inquire further into this phenomenon to see
whether others did, indeed, have similar experiences.

RESEARCH TOPIC AND METHOD

The actual research topic was "on the experience of being voluntarily silent for a period
of four or more days." I chose the existential-phenomenological methodology because this
type of approach seeks to understand a phenomenon in its pure essence, prior to any reflec-
tive interpretation, scientific or other. It has to do with the world of direct and immediate
everyday experience as it is expressed through one's language. Husserl (1962) describes the
312 OURANIA MARCANDONATOU (ELITE)

"life-world" (Lebenswelt), wherein the individual and the world are always in a dialogue with
each other, where one has no meaning without consideration of the other. It is said that each
individual and his or her world co-constitute one another. In this sense, the research subject
is seen as a co-researcher because both the researcher and the subject, as a unit, co-constitute
the emerging meaning of the experience.
My research was an adaptation of Colaizzi's (1978) method, utilizing a 12-step proce-
dure. I interviewed 12 co-researchers, 9 women and 3 men. They all came from different
spiritual backgrounds and had experienced being silent either in a monastery, a retreat cen-
ter, a home, or in nature. They were all instructed to write a description of their experience
in the following way: (1) to recall a specific time when they were silent for a period of four
or more days; (2) to describe how they felt during that period; (3) to try to describe their
feelings just as they were, so that someone reading or hearing the report would know ex-
actly what that experience was like for them; (4) to keep their focus on the experience itself,
and not just the situation; and (5) to not stop until they felt that they had described their feel-
ings completely, taking as long as they needed to complete their description.
After reading their written descriptions, or protocols, to acquire a beginning understand-
ing of their experience, I proceeded with the "walk-through" interview. This face-to-face
interview was to make explicit and examine more deeply the descriptions that the co-
researchers had written. The intention of the interview was to "walk them through" their writ-
ten description by reading it back to them in a slow and relaxed manner. There was a pause at
the end of each statement, so that the co-researchers had a chance to dwell and reflect on their
experience and describe it in greater detail if they wished. In this way, I feel that the descrip-
tive material was pure in the sense that it was unprompted by any questions that might have
biased the co-researchers' descriptions. The taped interviews were then transcribed.
I proceeded with the analysis in the following manner: All 12 protocols were read
carefully for content as well as to acquire a feeling sense for the material presented. Phrases
or sentences that directly pertained to the investigated phenomenon were underlined and ex-
tracted from each protocol. These were collected and logged as extracted significant state-
ments. The ones with the same meaning were then integrated and translated into a clearer
meaning statement, in which I translated the co-researcher's words in a way that remained
true to the underlying essence of the experience itself without severing any connection with
the original protocol. Colaizzi (1978) describes this procedure as a "precarious leap" that
the phenomenologist makes in order to bring an interpretive-psychological meaning to the
extracted statements.
For each protocol, these meaning statements were first listed and then sorted as theme
clusters. The theme clusters from all 12 protocols were then combined to form 39 con-
stituent themes. From the 39 constituent themes, the ones that were found to contain the
same meaning were then combined to form 17 comprehensive constituent themes. Upon
further reduction, nine final comprehensive constituent themes emerged, reflecting the pre-
reflective structure of the experience itself. A list of the final themes was given to each co-
researcher for feedback and verification.

RESULTS

The essential structural definition or fundamental essence of the research is portrayed

in the following nine final comprehensive constituent themes:
THE EXPERIENCE OF BEING SILENT 313

1. Experiencing the essence of one's being.

2. Experiencing one's inner life with a heightened sense of awareness.
3. Experiencing more acutely through the senses.
4. Experiencing auditory, visual, perceptual, and/or other sensory alterations.
5. Feeling connected and/or unified with various aspects of existence.
6. Feeling intensely a wide range of feelings and emotions.
7. Feeling rejuvenated.
8. Perceiving a change in the ontological meaning and/or significance of ideas and the
nature of personal reality.
9. Perceiving the experience as ineffable.
The 12 co-researchers experienced,felt, and perceived themselves with intensity and
a deep sense of awareness. They also experienced, felt, and perceived the multifaceted as-
pects of their reality in a new way. They all reported that they were transformed on levels
never before realized. Interestingly enough, these nine themes parallel Valle's own personal
reflections on transcendent awareness presented in Chapter 12 in this volume. Valle sug-
gests that there are six qualities or characteristics of transpersonal awareness: (1) deep still-
ness and peace; (2) an all-pervasive aura or feeling oflove; (3) a sense of egolessness; (4) a
transformed sense of space; (5) a sense of timelessness; and (6) bursts or flashes of insight.
These characteristics seem quite harmonious with six of the nine final comprehensive con-
stituent themes of this research (numbers 1,2,4,5,6, and 8).
These nine themes, although relatively distinct in their categories of experiencing,
feeling, and perceiving, nonetheless represent the essence of the experience of being silent
for these co-researchers. Consistent with the phenomenological perspective, this essence is
reflected in the holistic fashion in which these nine comprehensive constituent themes in-
terrelate/interweave.

Final Comprehensive Constituent Themes

1. All 12 co-researchers experienced the essence o/their being in an extraordinarily
conscious and profound way. They reported rediscovering who they really were, where the
essence of love was experienced deeply within themselves. For some, the experience was
found to be equivalent to that of being "home" where they felt not only self-embraced, but
also part of the Universe. During their time in silence, different qualities or states emerged,
such as freedom, voidness, egolessness, nonjudgment, inner power, creativity, purity, clar-
ity, acceptance, control, and integration. The physical body was experienced on several dif-
ferent levels. It was predominantly reported as being light-light exuding from within the
body as well as surrounding it. It was also experienced as energy that was felt in a most in-
tense way.
One co-researcher's own words clearly describe a few of these experiences. For example:
Having much less of a sense of effort or striving in any way-just more of a sense of being; of
being able to be by myself and exist and not have to do anything, certainly not having to talk....
I'm more relaxed and more attentive to what people are saying .... I was more into that internal
space in general. ... [It felt] like an increased awareness of everything around me-interactions,
my own energy, how I am, how I operate, how I think .... Everything became more clear to me and
I became more conscious of it .... My body felt a lot more full oflight.

In a sense, they began the process of relying on and paying attention to their own inner
guidance rather than to external feedback alone.
314 OURANIAMARCANDONATOU (ELITE)

2. They all experienced their inner life with a heightened sense ofawareness. They re-
ported facing and observing themselves with a clear insight into the workings of their mind.
They related experiencing both a decrease and an increase in thought processes, which in
many instances were intense and sometimes even unbearable. This process was accompa-
nied by a variety of powerful emotional states, such as frustration and anger.
Eight co-researchers reported having remembrances of their childhood that were ac-
companied by strong feelings and emotions, positive and negative. Some of them had sat-
isfying and warm nonverbal communication with other individuals whom they encountered
during their silent period. They also felt nourished and healed.
Co-researchers stated that being silent brought about a strong sense of clarity for them.
They discovered that noise and sound were part of silence. For example:

[Being silent1is a process .... Communication begins then with the self.... In silence [there
isla lot of revealing of core beliefs.... I found that the inner life becomes very lucid and thoughts
become very clear, and images become very clear, and imagination, and memory.... There is the
energy and the time to review the structure of personality and makeup .... There is a buildup of en-
ergy when not speaking. Energy being put back into the inner life, becoming clearer.... Noise is a
part of the world, it is not separate from silence.

They reported becoming involved with both the internal and external world in a deeper
and more intense way, appreciating things for what they truly were, rather than for what
they appeared to be. Ultimately, they understood the way they acted or reacted in the world.
Being silent was also experienced as a process in which the present was seen as play-
ing a vital role in one's life. By focusing attention on the present moment, seven of the co-
researchers discovered a plethora of inner messages that were otherwise ignored during
their everyday lives. By remaining silent, they experienced energy as being conserved and
recycled in their inner life, thereby heightening their sense of awareness. One response was:

My whole childhood starts to come in [when I'm silent]. ... There was this incredibly pre-
dominant sense of a tremendous amount of energy saved, on a moment-to-moment basis, from not
having to talk and not having to figure things out, not having to say the words .... I could be more
directly in the experience and less in the words, the mental, whatever distractions were in the way.
Even opinions and thoughts were much less there. I could just be observing. And I could observe
my own feelings and my feelings interacting with people with a heightened awareness-with much
more awareness than when I'm speaking .... All the pressures and pulls and pushes on how I am in
the world became very clear to me and I became more conscious of it.

As a whole, their silence opened up new insights by which they could better understand
themselves, others, and the world around them.
3. All 12 co-researchers experienced more acutely through the senses. Not only did
their senses become more acute, vibrant, and heightened, but they also experienced them-
selves and their environment in a more intense way. Colors, sounds, textures, and motion
became extremely vivid, rich, and brilliant. Hearing, seeing, touching, smelling, and tasting
became sharpened. For example:
Colors were rich and clear, music was exquisite, my cats felt so soft ... very sensual. ... I
felt good in my body, enjoyed feeling the air, smells and sun of spring days .... My perceptions
were much sharper than usual.

For some co-researchers, their physical senses and instincts became so acute that they
developed an alertness that went beyond ordinary perception. They reported feeling and
sensing things around and within the areas of the heart and the solar plexus. Their bodies
THE EXPERIENCE OF BEING SILENT 315

felt stronger and more attuned to the natural environment, not unlike the behavior of ani-
mals in the wild.
Interestingly enough, a few considered their mind as being part of their sense experi-
ence. They reported that they experienced mental activities in an intense way, whereby
thoughts took on a profound meaning. One co-researcher in particular felt a pull on the
brain or the body when she needed to verbally communicate with others. In general, all of
them reported that their physical senses provided a new and rich avenue for knowing them-
selves and their environment in a nonordinary way. One response was:
My senses were heightened to an awareness level that offered me a world full of sensory de-
tails I had never experienced before .... My fingertips became a conduit for the current which
coursed its way to the sea and through my veins .... It [water] felt like liquid gold going into my
system.

4. Of the 12 co-researchers, 11 experienced auditory, visual, perceptual, and/or other

sensory alterations. These experiences fall into the general category of altered states of con-
sciousness in which there was a quantitative, as well as a qualitative, shift in the co-
researchers' pattern of mental functioning. These states of consciousness are not a common
occurrence in everyday living.
The co-researchers reported experiencing an expansion of personal boundaries, with
no distinction between inner and outer reality; they became fused into a single and insepa-
rable reality (e.g., the dream state and the waking state were experienced as one). For oth-
ers, the state of expanded boundaries took the form of timelessness, where past, present,
and future were one and the same.
Six co-researchers reported experiencing an awareness of the cells and molecular
structure of their body to the extent that they became one with the atmosphere and the en-
vironment around them. For example:
It's as ifthere becomes an opening between my cells or my molecules that let my physical be-
ing intermingle with the atmosphere, so that the wind passes through me instead of bouncing off me.

Co-researchers also described seeing light surrounding them. They reported seeing
energy patterns in nature revealing the inner life of plants and trees. They also reported
that they had clairvoyant experiences of events that actually occurred at a later time. There
were instances of visual and auditory hallucinations. One co-researcher in particular re-
ported seeing a man's head rise from the river, while others had visions of guides. Six of
the 12 co-researchers heard music and/or voices during their silent retreat. Independently,
two of them heard two different types of music reverberating from mountains around
them. Another reported hearing harmonic sounds emanating from an audiotaped lecture.
One description was:
I began to have experiences-unassisted by any drugs-of some sort of supernormal auditory
phenomena. In the evening from one range of hills I began to consistently hear polyphonic "chant-
ing." I would also occasionally, at any point during the daytime, become aware of a single bass note .
. . . One time I very clearly heard what seemed to be an AM radio station, although there were no
radios within at least a couple of miles.

Finally, one co-researcher had an unexpected out-of-body experience, during which

she lay suspended and cradled among the stars. The instant that she became fearful, she
found herself back into her body. It was an experience that she claimed will forever be im-
printed in her memory.
 316 OURANIA MARCANDONATOU (ELITE)

5. Feeling connected and/or unified with various aspects ofexistence is another state
that is considered to be an altered state of consciousness. All 12 co-researchers felt "at-one-
ment" and unified with everything. Connectedness was the key to the feeling of oneness
that they characterized as a mystical experience They described feeling connected with ei-
ther animals, nature, people, the Universe, a Greater Force, Spirit, and/or God. They felt be-
ing an integral part of the universe and experiencing a sense of belonging where the ego was
felt to be dissolved. Some of them experienced being either in God or part of God. For
example:
The only way, I think, that I can put [it] into words is that I feel that I am part of God's creation
and that everything I am, and everything that I experience, and everything that surrounds me, and
everything that I can imagine is God. We are all of the same-all connected.

Another response was:

That was probably the beginning when I began to realize that we are one ... I was tapping into
an innate intelligence, plugged into a source beyond my comprehension .... I felt that it [my phys-
ical being] blended into everything.

6. The silent experience, in general, allowed the co-researchers to feel intensely a wide
range offeelings and emotions. This particular theme was found to be an integral part of
each of the other eight final comprehensive constituent themes. Feelings and emotions were
manifested throughout their experience of silence. Although the negative feelings and emo-
tions covered a broader range than the positive ones, more co-researchers felt positive dur-
ing their silence than felt negative. The positive feelings reported, in order of most to least
frequent occurrence, were: love, happiness, peace, calmness, joy, gratefulness, serenity,
"wonderfulness," elation, grace, thankfulness, bliss, security, euphoria, contentment,
groundedness, and feeling blessed. For example:
Part of the experience was that after a few days I started to feel extremely happy-happier
than usual. I'm usually a pretty happy person but this state of not speaking made me feel very lov-
ing and very happy and quite contented with life and everything that was going on around me.

The negative feelings and emotions reported, in order of most to least frequent occur-
rence, were: fear, anger, loneliness, emotional pain, worry, frustration, anxiety, despair,
depression, vulnerability, physical pain, "churning" of emotions, restlessness, sadness,
timidity, paranoia, loss, startle, nervousness, rejection, aggravation, stupor, embarrassment,
suffering, feeling inconsequential, inadequate, inferior, and wrestling with the "demons"
within. Five co-researchers who found that the silent experience was difficult were medita-
tors who did their silent retreat either in a monastery, in a retreat center, or at home. Fol-
lowing is one co-researcher's response:
In these four days of silence I felt a myriad of feelings .... I also remember struggling with
challenging mind states of inferiority, of despair, of sadness, of longing for something that I just
can't seem to find .... I remember feeling the grace of all the wisdom traditions that have come be-
fore me and that will come after me. I remember feeling a speck of dust in a universe of infinite
breadth, unseen to normal seeing. I remember feeling blessed and showered with this grace.

7. The silent experience also brought a distinct feeling ofrejuvenation that was reported
by 11 co-researchers. Some of them related seeing the world "in a new light." Others reported
feeling a sense of rediscovery, while others felt as if they were being born again. The experi-
ence was expressed in terms of strong positive feelings from which they felt a new surge of
THE EXPERIENCE OF BEING SILENT 317

energy and a positive outlook toward life. This theme was inferred from a variety of different
descriptions rather than emerging directly from specific statements expressing "rejuvenation."
Two co-researchers described the feeling of rejuvenation in the following manner:
I wrote a note to a friend saying, "I just gave birth to myself." There was very much a sense of re-
birth that came out of the birthing, that came out of the struggle of those days [of silence].
You often hear that saying, "This is the first day ofthe rest of your life." It's kind oflike that. ...
Everything is as if you are seeing it for the first time.

8. The co-researchers not only saw the world or themselves in a new way or in a new
light, but also perceived a change in the ontological meaning and/or significance of ideas
and the nature ofpersonal reality. In other words, 11 co-researchers perceived a radical
shift in consciousness, acquiring meaningful and clear insights into their personal reality.
This shift was perceived to be closely akin to the spiritual realm. One co-researcher had in-
sights into the essence of God as "arid" and "desert-like, " while another reported perceiv-
ing God's essence to be her own. One described the experience as follows:
The changes that silence brought were clearly of the spirit. I felt peace and harmony in the lat-
ter part of the silent practice, a strong sense of being right where I should be, of being on my path.

Another response was:

During this time of solitude and silence, my spiritual life surrounded me. It wasn't a separate
thing I had to reach for through ritual or prayer. It was simply my entire life. They were one and
the same .... The silence helps to counteract the feeling that everything is random or everything is
just chaotic .... [That] period of silence and solitude was a turning point almost ten years ago.

Some reported perceiving the state of silence as being a "space" or a place to which
they could have direct access to themselves and the Divine. In that place, they all felt safe,
harmonious, and whole. They reported perceiving that a personal transformation had taken
place and that they became more peaceful and "open." One co-researcher described the per-
ception as follows:

It was just [that] the consciousness of how my attention is usually split between listening and
preparing my next sentence was very obvious. Normally, this is going on all the time, but I'm un-
conscious of it. And suddenly there it was very clear.... [It was] a real shift in consciousness of the
burden that [talking] puts on me ... completely unconsciously all the time. And it gave me a dif-
ferent sense of myself in the world ... that the universe and people provide what I need without
having to make a tremendous effort to get that. ... And if I'm not in control things seem to work
out just fine without me doing that. And I think that my life changed after that.

In addition, three co-researchers reported perceiving the dual nature of reality. Some
perceived talking or noise as highly distractive. They observed that words were "clothes"
that cover one's ability to feel. Nonviolent speech-use of language devoid of violent and
negative connotations-was considered by one co-researcher as being a desirable alterna-
tive source of communication.
One co-researcher reported perceiving a shift in the direction of her life. She subse-
quently decided to make the arts her vocation rather than to pursue a career in the sciences.
9. All 12 co-researchers perceived their silent experience to be ineffable. They were
unable to find appropriate words to adequately describe this particular experience. In many
instances, they were unable to complete sentences when trying to describe how they felt
about it or how they perceived it. They all observed that they were unable to articulate their
318 OURANIA MARCANDONATOU (ELITE)

silent experience. In its essence, it is perceived to be wordless. The following responses de-
scribe this aspect:
On speaking of silence, I am struck with the difficulty at hand. How to speak of what feels un-
speakable? .... How to speak of a world without words? How to put words to the sweetness of a
moment in time when one feels the beauty and depth of being alive and aware of what is delicate
and precious, of what is life? How to convey the subtle nuances of perception in movement, a foot-
step perhaps, or of thought, or of seeing into one's life, or the feeling of the presence of a tree? And
how to do this so that you know this experience to exist for yourself also, in our world of talking
and of noise?
It's so hard to explain .... There was a connectedness that was accomplished, a communication that
took place that wasn't verbal at all.

In short, I feel that the essence of ineffability is at the very core of the experience of
silence. The word itself denotes or points to the fact that this experience goes beyond
words or any descriptive efforts that might be undertaken by any individual. From these re-
sults, I now see the essential structure ofthis experience to be a mere reflection of what the
experience of silence truly is-a mystery. The spiritual writings of the ages repeatedly de-
scribe its essence as masked by paradox and riddles. Ironically, only silence itself can best
describe the silent phenomenon. It can be described as the sacred silence-an ineffable ex-
perience indeed.

TRANSPERSONAL ASPECTS

The research findings invite us to look more closely at concepts such as a higher self,
personal transformation, union, transcendence, mystical states, altered states, and love, to
name a few. They all represent transpersonal dimensions of existence wherein the co-
researchers moved from their personal ego-self perspective toward aspects of experience
that can appropriately be named trans-egoic (i.e., transpersonal).
Many of the co-researchers' experiences included "intense realness, unusual sensa-
tions, unity, ineffability and trans-sensate states" (Deikman, 1990, p. 47). According to
Deikman, these experiences are considered to be mystical and transpersonal in nature. In
this context, the silent phenomenon can be characterized as being a transpersonal, tran-
scendent, and mystical experience.
Valle (1989, p. 261) offers five characteristics of the transpersonal realm: (1) there is
a transcendent unity of all aspects of existence; (2) the ego is not the ground of human
awareness; (3) each one of us can directly experience this realm; (4) there is an expansion
of one's self-identity beyond the ordinary mind and its conceptual thinking; and (5) this ex-
perience is self-validating.
All 12 co-researchers not only experienced all of these characteristics, but also came
out of their silent experience transformed, considering it to be a peak experience. Being
silent involves the whole human being, a state in which one experiences, feels, and per-
ceives oneself, others, and the cosmos in a nonordinary and/or nondualistic way. Insight and
awareness increase to the point where new meanings are recognized along with a deeper
understanding of how one acts in the world.
On the basis of the results, it can be said that the silent experience not only is transper-
sonal, transcendent, and mystical in nature, but also has the potential of leading one to a
THE EXPERIENCE OF BEING SILENT 319

place of self-discovery and transformation where self-understanding and the essence of

one's being become manifest. The co-researchers experienced the essence of their being as
light, loving, pure, free, egoless, and integrated. They experienced a profound union and
connection with the whole of creation. They all had a definite sense of a place, a "coming
home" of sorts, a sacred space where they felt safe and trusting. They also became highly
attentive to the world around them with a strong, vibrant, and acute sensorial awareness. At
the same time, they experienced intense feelings and emotions to a point where they felt a
sense of rejuvenation, seeing their lives in a different or new light.
What became explicit from their protocols was that the experience of love was found
to be interwoven throughout all of the nine themes. Being silent seems to be a state in which
one's heart expands to such dimensions that one feels interconnected, part of the whole-in
which there is no longer any alienation or disconnectedness between oneself, others, and/or
the Universe. Through silence, the ego transcends itself to come into communion with a
transpersonal/transcendent reality, thus healing the biblical "fall" and suggesting a reunit-
ing of the individual with the Divine.
The results further suggest that by being silent, one is brought directly in contact with
the here and now. When one is in the here and now, the ever-present, one finds oneself
nowhere (now+here) because all time (past, present, and future) is contained in the now.
This is the point of timelessness, the still point, the void. This is the point at which fullness
and emptiness become one. It is the sacred silence. In other words, the silent experience has
the potential of igniting each individual's inner sense or spark of the timeless dimension of
the Divine, which is waiting to be rediscovered, recognized, awakened, and ultimately illu-
mined from within.
On a more personal level, engaging this type of phenomenological research brought
about a shift in my own consciousness. By immersing myself in the protocols, I became
more acutely aware of my own deep and internal experiences with silence. I discovered that
one of the three elements in phenomenology, namely, that of the essence of the phenomenon,
is none other than the transpersonal-spiritual dimension of reality. I believe, like Valle
(1989), that existential-phenomenologists fall short of treating consciousness in its purest
form-the formless, transcendent-spiritual aspect of reality, which is none other than our
true Self, that which remains constant and unchanged within as we journey through our lives.
Ultimately, I began to realize that what was happening was that my heart was begin-
ning to expand in such a way that it embraced my own personal self. I have observed that,
as a whole, we tend to put ourselves somewhere outside the center of our own hearts. We
are, rather, outer-directed, being more loving, compassionate, or kind toward others than we
are to ourselves. Rarely do we tend to ourselves in this way. By including ourselves in this
journey of loving and ultimate healing, we acquire the essence of unconditional love, which
I believe is the cornerstone of the transpersonal realm.
I feel that we as research psychologists tend to be intimidated from speaking or writing
about love. We speak of many different states of being (e.g., transcendent, transpersonal, mys-
tical, peaceful), but rarely about love. Love is the ground, or better the container, for all those
states. Without a sense of a loving heart, these states become empty vessels that do not corre-
spond to or reflect the total/whole human experience. The co-researchers themselves experi-
enced love in a most profound way. Several of their responses were:
Love appears to be in all things, embedded deeply within every atom, every living cell of all living
things, including myself, my cells ... within all solid things, even rocks, and asphalt, and porcelain.
320 OURANIA MARCANDONATOU (ELITE)

... When the sense of an important self, of a demanding one, when that settles down and becomes
quiet, there is a sense of grace. And in that sense of grace there is love.
During some of these times, I felt that something was still being communicated on a very deep
level, something beautiful and profound-a spiritual love.

My experience of being silent is like a mother's love--an unqualified acceptance.

As I pointed out in the beginning of this chapter, most of the world's spiritual traditions
consider the heart to be the seat of consciousnesslDivine/Self/lover-beloved. The Divine is
believed to be found neither in heaven nor on earth but in the heart. The heart is the inner-
most silent center of our being, where the sacred union of opposites (e.g., earth/heaven,
life/death, body/spirit, feminine/masculine) takes place, thereby healing the proverbial
splitlseparationlbiblical "fall" that begins for each of us at our birth. Being silent facilitates
the direct experience of this sacred union.
I feel that as researchers we are presented with the challenge of beginning to integrate
our whole being into what we are doing and who we are vis-a-vis our work. I contend that
this new and emerging area of transpersonal-phenomenological psychology can transform
our educational process into a more meaningful, vibrant, and creative endeavor.
In phenomenological research, we are looking for the essence of any meaningful ex-
perience. By conducting research with a transpersonal eye, we not only find meaning and
the essence of the subject of our investigation, but also emerge from it transformed. That
is precisely what I wish to elucidate here, that transpersonal-phenomenological research
in its very essence/core has the seed of transformation, for the researcher and the co-
researcher alike.

REFERENCES

Brown, T. (1988). The vision: The dramatic true story of one man s profound relationship with nature. New York:
Berkeley Publishing.
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257-268). New York: Plenum Press.
 15

On the Experience of Being

Unconditionally Loved
Craig Matsu-Pissot

INTRODUCTION

Unconditional love. Rumi, the great Sufi poet-mystic, wrote of this love: "I've heard it said,
there's a window that opens from one mind to another, / but if there's no wall, there's no
need for fitting the window, or the latch" (Barks & BIy, 1981). Such beautiful words. Much
of Rumi's work directly illustrates the loving relationship that he shared with his spiritual
teacher, Shams ofTabriz. Indeed, spiritual traditions from all around the world proclaim un-
conditional love to be among the highest forms of human expression. These traditions have
gone on to describe this expression in the form of the affection a spiritual teacher holds for
students or disciples. Buddhist (Rinpoche, 1992; Wangyal, 1978) and Hindu (Muktananda,
1980; Venkatesananda, 1989) sources, the words of the Old and New Testament, tales from
indigenous or shamanic cultures (Castaneda, 1968, 1972) all show us that the love given us
by spiritual guides is of utmost importance. Experiencing a spiritual teacher's unconditional
love can teach us how to love and accept ourselves. This self-acceptance and self-love can
then find expression in love for our families, friends, colleagues, and even our enemies.
These expressions oflove help us to live a rich and meaningful life.
It was a combination of traditional spiritual teachings and personal experience that led
me to conduct a phenomenological investigation into the experience of receiving uncondi-
tionallove from a spiritual teacher. And it is this investigation that will be the focus of this
chapter. First we will look at some of the existing relevant research and writings. This review
will be followed by a brief description of my own experience of receiving unconditional love

Craig Matsu-Pissot • 15303 Northeast 166th Lane, Woodinville, Washington 98072.

321
 322 CRAIG MATSU-PISSOT

from a spiritual teacher. The final section will concentrate upon the research project itself
and will include a brief description of the methodology and a discussion of the results.

PAST RESEARCH

With such widespread recommendation from spiritual traditions, one might wonder
why there is so little psychological research in the topic of unconditional love, especially re-
garding such love from a spiritual teacher. Considering the implications such research
would have regarding relationships on every level, this seems to be something of an over-
sight. Though a small handful of studies address the topic in peripheral ways, only a single
study directly examined unconditional love of any kind. Hawka (1985) conducted a heuris-
tic study on the experience offeeling unconditionally loved. Not all the sources oflove were
identified, but those that were included a seminar leader, a group of colleagues, a coworker,
and a "personal, private knowing of being loved unconditionally by God" (p. 76).
Hawka reported four major findings. Fundamental to unconditional love was a pro-
found acceptance that included recognition, acknowledgment, and respect free of any
demands or obligations. This acceptance relaxed barriers within the beloved to inner re-
sources, sparked new awarenesses, and facilitated a more creative approach to life, all of
which were part of a greater sense of freedom and openness. The experience was also de-
scribed as revitalizing or empowering. These three factors led to the final primary experi-
ence-a movement from a negative to a positive self-image.
A second study relevant to the experience of unconditional love from a spiritual
teacher was directed by Glick (1983). Glick, also employing a phenomenological method,
explored the change experienced by disciples due to their relationship with a guru. Among
the qualities he cited as being important in the makeup of a guru was unconditional love.
Ten of the subjects explained that their guru's love was instrumental in helping them to
grow as human beings. Glick went on to discuss his finding that the guru's unconditional
love was the foremost component in facilitating positive change in his students.
The loving teacher-student relationship was investigated by Monnlch (1985). Among
her conclusions was that such a relationship offered support and encouragement to the stu-
dent. This positive environment helped the student to reevaluate and overcome perceived per-
sonalliabilities. The student was instilled with a greater courage and expansion. Again, all of
these factors combined to form a greater self-acceptance and self-confidence in the student.
Solimar (1987) has also contributed to our understanding of unconditional love with
her phenomenological investigation into the experience of self-love. She first concluded
that within the context of self-love, the self can be experienced in three ways: in the sensa-
tions, energy, and aliveness of the body; as mind, in ways that express self-confidence, self-
esteem, purposeful interaction with life, and the ability to initiate life changes; and as spirit
or essence, characterized by unity with a larger reality.
Her second finding was that self-love is important to a healthy, joyful life in which
mental imbalances such as depression and neurosis give way to such positive mental states
as joy, peace, and well-being.
Solimar's third conclusion was that self-love is a necessary factor in discovering and
realizing one's true nature, inner potential, and creative expression through initiating a re-
lationship with a deeper self.
EXPERIENCE OF BEING UNCONDITIONALLY LOVED 323

The fourth finding was that self-love is closely related to the ability to love others. Par-
ticipants felt a reduced inclination to be defensive or judgmental. They experienced more
positive relationships with friends, family, and humanity. And they "experienced self-love
as unconditional love for self and for others" (p. 122).
A handful of other studies also approach the question of unconditional love, albeit
more indirectly. Motto and Stein (1973) found that receiving unconditional love is critical
in allowing the expression of hostility and other emotionally charged feelings. The subjects
found themselves in a safe and accepting environment. This accepting atmosphere allowed
them to be more accepting of themselves, thereby becoming more willing to communicate
in a more completely authentic way.
In researching Maslow's theories, Dietch (1978) found correlations between the
essence of a B-Iove relationship and self-actualization (see also Bracket, 1975). Weinmann
and Newcombe (1990) reported that the amount of parental love parallels a significant lin-
ear increase in an adolescent's sense of identity. These adolescents were also more likely to
perceive and return their parents' love than were their peers who had not developed as tan-
gible a sense of self.
Writers from existential psychology have also written about the nature of uncondi-
tionallove. For example, although he did not allude to unconditional love directly, Martin
Buber wrote extensively on the concept of genuine dialogue in his books The Knowledge of
Man (1965) and I and Thou (1970). This form of conversation, which does not necessarily
involve the exchange of words, is based upon a mutual regard. The participants in the dia-
logue are open to each other in a manner completely free of analysis or interpretation, de-
mand or objectification, greed or anticipation. To perceive others in this way is basic to
unconditional love. Each person, with genuine expression and perception, becomes aware
of the other person in his or her wholeness and authenticity. It is a relationship of shared be-
ingness, a dialogue of direct contact.
In his writings, Harper (1966) explored the similarities and differences in the love be-
tween God and the human being, on one hand, and the love that one human being holds for
another or some other aspect of the material world. Harper relied upon a number of his tor-
ical and literary figures as examples of these forms of love. Among the examples are St.
John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, Heloise and Abelard, and Cathy and Heathcliff of
Wuthering Heights.
Two of Harper's conclusions are of particular interest here. The first point is that being
touched by love, whether mystical or existential, can bring about intense confusion, disin-
tegration, and emotional suffering. St. John of the Cross (Harper, 1966) described this type
of response as the dark night of the soul, and wrote of this dark night as "the night of ab-
sence, loss, emptiness which succeeds the peak of ecstasy in the encounter with a living vi-
sion" (p. 118).
This absence, though painful, is part of a process that leads to a purified heart and
mind. One experiences a change of values in which the trivial and unsubstantial can be
more clearly distinguished from what has true value in this life. The heat from the fire of
longing burns away the dross and the base, leaving only what is golden.
The second point Harper raises is that "the root of all evils is the frustration of love"
(p. 169). In this light, he advises us not to repress existential love for the sake of mystical
love. Such a repression leads only to a contracted state of being. These forms of love exist
on a continuum or, better stated, mystical love is found within existential love.
 324 CRAIG MATSU-PISSOT

John Welwood (1990) is another writer who integrates existential psychology with
spiritual thought. It is his contention that unconditional love is always with us, but lies hid-
den under layers of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He writes that we reject within our-
selves aspects of our experience that cause us pain and therefore live only partial lives. But
there is a part of us that is aware of this partial living and seeks to find or rediscover whole-
ness. This facuity of awareness is our inherent unconditional nature.
To heal our segmented or compartmentalized selves, we must be open to what is, we
must encounter it fully without relying on concepts or conditions that lead to evaluation or
judgment. By opening unconditionally to all aspects of our lives, including those we find
painful, we access that intrinsic unconditional nature. When we do so, unconditional love
springs forth naturally to be offered to ourselves and to those around us.

PERSONAL REFLECTIONS

My own experience of unconditional love was very similar to fmdings in the collection of
studies cited above. During my frrst quarter of graduate schoo~ and continuing to the present,
I have been fortunate to have formed relationships with two teachers, Dr. Rina Sircar, a Bud-
dhist nun, and Dr. Angeles Arrien, an anthropologist who has the role of elder in her Basque
community. More than eight years have passed since those initial contacts, but in the course of
those years, much has unfolded due to their presence in my life. They certainly imparted to me
many scholastic lessons within the formal context of my schooling. But the deepest impact
came from their love and acceptance of me as the person that I am. And it was, and continues
to be, an impact that favorably touches every aspect of my relationship with myself and the
world in which I live. It was this gentle, subtle, and pervasive regard they always gave to me that
inspired me to pursue an exploration into the experience of unconditional love in others.
In conducting an existential-phenomenological study of the experience of receiving un-
conditional love from a spiritual teacher-a study that, together with its results, is the main fo-
cus of the remainder of this chapter-I found my personal experiences to be both beneficial
and challenging. Among the benefits were a familiarity with the subject and the inspiration
to investigate it. The challenge was to not let this familiarity and inspiration cloud my reflec-
tion and interpretation of the meaning contained in the descriptions of the co-participants.!

RESEARCH METHODOLOGY

I decided to use an existential-phenomenological approach for this project's research

methodology. For the purposes of the project, unconditional love from a spiritual teacher was
defined as "the experience of being loved and accepted by someone one recognizes as a spir-
itual teacher without the possibility that that love and acceptance will be withdrawn due to
something one might or might not say or do." I enlisted 12 co-participants to take part in the
study. Seeking representation from different spiritual traditions, I found two co-participants

IThe term co-participant rather than the usual term subject is used in recognition that those who contribute to the
research project are involved in a process of co-creating the meaning revealed through the researcher's analysis
and focused intent.
EXPERIENCE OF BEING UNCONDITIONALLY LOVED 325

with relationships with Hindu, Christian, or Native American teachers. Among the remain-
ing teachers were a member of the Jewish faith; a psychologist who was nondenominational
but who, through his love, exemplified for his student the teachings of past Jewish masters;
a minister of a congregation of Jews who believe in Jesus; a Sufi; a Buddhist; and a person
who was identified by his student as being Sufi/other.
Ten of the co-participants wrote descriptions of their experience and two tape-recorded
their initial descriptions; the latter were then transcribed. These initial protocols were then
followed by a walk-through interview. In the walk-through interview, the initial protocol
was read back to the co-participant with selected pauses in the reading that offered the co-
participant opportunities to provide any new insights or further description. A transcript of
the walk-through interview was added to the initial protocol to form the final protocol.
Analysis of the 12 final protocols, based upon procedures outlined by Colaizzi (1978),
involved seven steps:
Step 1. The first step was to carefully read each protocol individually in order to gain
as great an overall understanding of the experience as possible. At this point, and through-
out the analysis, the practice of bracketing became very important. Bracketing is a proce-
dure by which the researcher suspends personal biases or preconceptions by becoming
conscious of them and identifying them. By holding these biases in awareness, I was able
to look at the experiences of the co-participants with a clearer eye, thereby allowing their
descriptions to present themselves in a way less colored by my own biases and/or agendas.
Step 2. After reading all the protocols, I began the work of extracting the significant
statements in each individual's protocol. Extracted significant statements are those phrases,
sentences, or groups of sentences that pertained directly to the experience of receiving un-
conditional love from a spiritual teacher, and not to the situation itself.
Step 3. The significant statements were then formulated into "constituent themes."
This process of explication transforms the statements of the co-participants in such a way
that their meaning or insight is retained and clearly expressed. Explication therefore in-
volves a creative interaction between the researcher's understanding and the words of the
co-participants, whereby the researcher looks deeply within to find and clearly state the
meaning and significance of the experience. Constituent themes were thereby formed for
each co-participant.
Step 4. The constituent themes were then arranged into "comprehensive constituent
themes." Comprehensive constituent themes are the result of a synthesis and integration
process in which like constituent themes are grouped together across all protocols. In this
step, the fundamental aspects of the experience being researched are brought to light.
Step 5. The comprehensive constituent themes were then compared with the original
descriptions of the co-participants to check for any possible inconsistencies. The purpose of
this step is to ensure that the comprehensive constituent themes do in fact reflect the expe-
rience of the co-participants.
Step 6. A "fundamental structural definition" was then developed by combining the
comprehensive constituent themes into a final defining paragraph. This definition provides
a concise description of the essential aspects of the experience.
Step 7. Each of the co-participants was then contacted to discuss the results in order
to insure that the findings were consistent with their experiences. In this light, the co-par-
ticipants were asked for any feedback that they might wish to offer. This final step also pro-
vided an opportunity to thank the co-participants for their involvement in the project.
 326 CRAIG MATSU-PISSOT

COMPREHENSIVE CONSTITUENT THEMES

The comprehensive constituent themes that emerged from the analysis were:
1. The teacher as having nurturing qualities.
2. Encouragement to find/manifest/express one's authentic self-nature.
3. The experience as profound.
4. Mutuality.
5. Transpersonal/metaphysical properties.
6. The experience as psychologically therapeutic.
7. A heightened awareness of one's authentic self-nature.
8. A heightened awareness of unconditional love within one's own being.
9. A shift in perception of self in relationship to other/world.
10. A heightened sense of understanding/commitment to the spiritual/sacred.
11. The experience as continually influencing/inspiring/unfolding.
The fundamental structural definition that emerged from the combination of these
comprehensive constituent themes is as follows:
The experience of receiving love and acceptance from someone whom you recognize
as a spiritual teacher without any possibility that that love and acceptance will be withdrawn
because of anything you might or might not say or do is a profound and continually un-
folding, influential, and inspiring experience. Primary aspects of the experience are
transpersonal or mystical qualities, nurturance, psychological healing, and encouragement
in finding, manifesting, and expressing one's authentic self-nature. The experience fosters
a heightened sense of understanding or commitment to the sacred or spiritual, greater
awareness of unconditional love within one's own being, greater awareness of one's au-
thentic self-nature, and a shift in perception of self in relationship to other and the world.
These themes were found to express three different aspects of the experience. The first
two themes addressed characteristics of the teacher. The characteristics of the experience it-
self are found in themes 3 through 5. The remaining themes pertain to what the experience
evoked within the student.

Themes 1 and 2

What, in addition to unconditional love, did the teacher offer to the student? From the
experiences of the co-participants, we find that these teachers carried in their pockets other
treasures as well. Among these treasures were other nurturing qualities of the teacher and
the encouragement the teacher provided to the students to find, manifest, and express their
authentic self-nature.
All 12 co-participants experienced one or more of the following nurturing qualities
from their teachers: being appreciated, protected, approved of, compassionately comforted,
cared for, forgiven, and disciplined. Any vibrant memory we may have of anyone of these
qualities can help one to appreciate the value of that particular characteristic ofuncondi-
tionallove. The following interaction between a co-participant and her uncle provides a
poignant example. It took place as she was mourning her father's recent death.
I threw myself into his arms, and he held me very tightly, and his first words were in Yiddish,
"Sha, sha, mien kind," which are the comforting words which mean, "Quiet, quiet, my child." Then,
in English, he said, ''Now that your father is dead, I am your father."
EXPERIENCE OF BEING UNCONDITIONALLY LOVED 327

This quote is particularly appropriate because it demonstrates the parental nature of the nur-
turing expressed by the teachers toward their students. This quiet tenderness affords nour-
ishment, deep caring, and a sense of safety, qualities that provide a vital environment that
allows other features of the experience to take root.
But just as a garden must receive water and sun and nutrition, so must the dead twigs
and weeds be removed. This being the case, discipline was also a part of this nurturing, as
attested to by six of the co-participants. In all these cases, however, there was no sense of
stifling or control, but rather the fostering of personal growth and valuable insights. These
experiences were considered to be great gifts given them by their teachers, though it is true
that the students might not have felt this to be the case at the time of the incident.
It is important to remember that the discipline that the co-participants described was rec-
ognized to be given within the context of unconditional love. The discipline was experienced
as being in and a part of unconditional love. Perhaps it is the memory of this unwavering af-
fection, this clear blue sky, that allows the temporary rainstorm of sometimes painful correc-
tion to be fully appreciated. There is a knowing that the moisture is needed and therefore
allowed to penetrate deep to the roots, allowing for the rich and productive insights that the
students later harvested. When problematic behaviors are addressed so genuinely and with
such respect for the student, not only outer change but also inner transformation result.
It does not take too great a leap of the imagination to see that the teachers' uncondi-
tionallove combined with their nurturing qualities would form the basis for an encourage-
ment of the student to find, manifest, and express a more authentic self-nature. For some,
this encouragement took the form of empowerment, for others of confirmation. Where one
co-participant felt supported, another received respect or acknowledgment. Whatever the
case, all 12 described the experience of being encouraged to somehow come into a closer
communion with who they really were. Quotes from their descriptions offer a flavor of what
the experience was like:
[My teacher1created an atmosphere for me to become who I shall become .... It is clear that I will
never walk in my mentor's footsteps, but my own.
Pleasing him is only doing that which will benefit my soul.
The experience ofa love that acknowledges the expression of the truth of myself.
His love provided the basis of strength and his guidance provided ways of developing strength with-
out reliance on him.
This feeling of love was without attachment.

Interesting points come forward in these quotes. First, the student is encouraged to live
more genuinely in the everyday world. This statement speaks to an incitement to carve one's
own niche, follow one's own heart, march to the beat of one's own drummer. It is true that
these phrases seem terribly cliched, but cliches evolve out of experiences that are universal
in nature. Who among us has not felt that the wishes others have for our lives run contrary
to the intuitions of our own hearts? How many ofus have not felt the thrill of having some-
one significant in our lives support these intuitions?
The teacher's encouragement also points toward an inner movement, an intimate au-
thenticity from a spiritual perspective. This movement shows us how limited is the ego as a
form of identity, shows us that we are much more than we ever imagined, that our poten-
tialities do not stop at the door of material existence. It seems that this inner knowledge is
of prime necessity if one is to realize one's true meaning in the world, that clearer un-
derstanding of ego, inner knowledge, and realizing one's true meaning are but a single
 328 CRAIG MATSU-PISSOT

enterprise. It is also quite understandable, then, that a spiritual teacher would encourage a
student to pursue a course that leads to a warmer embrace of or identification with a
transpersonal or spiritual dimension.
The key to the power of this encouragement lies in the engaged detachment of the
teacher. The term "engaged detachment" may seem an oxymoron, but it is the teacher's pri-
mary investment that the student have an open and expansive pasture in which to run, ex-
plore, and test his or her strength, and that this exploration lead to the student's experience
of a positive development. The form or direction of this positive development is not for the
teacher to determine; the student must make this decision. How else can one come to know
one's genuine self than through a significantly unbridled freedom to find and form that gen-
uine self! As has already been discussed, guidance is also a part of the teacher's role, but
that guidance is given in an open way, free of the contraction of selfish stipulations.

Themes 3-5
Turning to characteristics of the experience itself, three fundamental features emerged
from the descriptions. Receiving unconditional love from a spiritual teacher was described
as being profound, was felt to evoke a sense of mutuality, and carried with it transpersonal
and/or metaphysical qualities.
All of the co-participants expressed the profundity of the experience. Many described re-
ceiving unconditional love as extraordinary and as being a great gift or blessing. Again, brief
reference to the protocols themselves is probably the best way of portraying the experience:
What had I done to deserve such bounty?
There no greater gift.
I don't know how anybody could compare it with anything because it's not like anything I've ever
known.
It's impossible for me to convey its importance.
It's a mystery, it's just a mystery.
I can only attribute my change of attitude to the Grace of Allah.
The creator has given me a very precious gift.

Obviously, these people have all been touched in a very deep way. The nature of these
gifts and what makes the experience extraordinary will become increasingly apparent as we
look at the remaining comprehensive constituent themes, the next of which concerns a
sense of mutuality.
In this sense, the student responds in some way to the positive attention of the teacher.
Something is touched and awakened in the student. A spark of affection for the teacher is
kindled. A relationship is formed. Even if a stranger smiles at us guilelessly and conge-
nially, it is only natural, even if we are in the foulest mood, to feel a glimmer of warmth in
our hearts.
This emerging relationship might best be described as a psychological and emotional
opening toward the teacher. Some co-participants described it in just that way, an opening. Ad-
ditional terms include feeling connected to the teacher, and sharing love, caring, or acceptance
with the teacher. The unconditional nature of the love has a truly penetrative quality. Since it
is a love that does not originate from an egoic place, with egoic motivations and concerns, it
reaches a place within the student that transcends the ego. Attachment to limited and therefore
EXPERIENCE OF BEING UNCONDITIONAllY LOVED 329

limiting identities begins to loosen; a more open, assured, and fluid personality is cultivated.
A process begins in which receiving such love and acceptance helps us to more fully love and
accept ourselves. The more we love ourselves, the more we can love others.
As will be seen, this process, initially realized or brought to life in this sense of mutu-
ality, is truly a pivotal aspect of the experience of receiving unconditional love from a spir-
itual teacher. This spiraling reciprocation of love, caring, and acceptance is, in a way, a
training ground, a prototype of things to come; that is, this expansion of positive and af-
firming sentiment is ultimately directed toward self, others, and the world.
The transpersonal dimensions of the experience become more explicit in the next com-
prehensive constituent theme. As defined by Schneier (1989, p. 322): "Transpersonal
means 'over, beyond, or through' the personal and refers to all experiences in which we
transcend the ordinary boundaries and limitations of our personalities." Tillich (1967, p. 20)
stated that the word metaphysical has lost its original meaning of underlying structures or
universal laws and has now taken on the meaning of "a world behind the world. :. the con-
notation of pointing to a duplication of this world by a transcendent realm of beings." These
two definitions provide a foundation for the following discussion.
The range of experience that makes up this particular theme is far-reaching. Among
the experiences recounted by the co-participants are oneness, union, expansion, harmony,
perfection, infinity, universality, timelessness, and awakening of the soul. Additional expe-
riences included entering another level of awareness, recognizing the unfolding of destiny,
being seen in a transcendental sense within the context of a spatial continuum, knowing
without the faculty of the mind, being in the presence of God and looking into the eyes of
Christ, being in communion with Jesus through the intercession of the Holy Spirit, en-
countering past lives, recognizing deceased teachers who have been reborn, and continu-
ing to be taught by teachers who have passed away.
The spiritual impact of being in relationship with a spiritual teacher seems to lie at the
foundation of these experiences. It also seems that the traditional context of the teacher's
path and message colors the experience of the student. The student of a Christian teacher
sees images of Christ, that of a Buddhist teacher grows in understanding karma, and so on.
The depth to which the students have been led by the loving articulation of the teacher's
message is very evident. As was mentioned above in the discussion of mutuality, a profound
opening was experienced. Part of that opening is to realms that are generally unfamiliar, the
transpersonalitranscendent'metaphysical realms. A more expanded understanding of the na-
ture of one's personal being comes to the surface here.

Themes 6-11

Let us now look at what was evoked within co-participants during the experience. All
of the co-participants felt that receiving unconditional love from their spiritual teacher was
psychologically therapeutic. Many wrote that a part of the love they felt from their teacher
was feeling psychologically held, authentically seen, understood, and/or supported though
periods of distress in their lives. In all of these instances, the teacher in effect steps into the
life of the student. The everyday reality that is particular to the student is witnessed by the
teacher in an accepting way, free of judgment or evaluation.
The support during difficult periods in their lives that several co-participants felt from
their teachers is of obvious significance in the therapeutic setting. This is often why people
330 CRAIG MATSU-PISSOT

seek therapy. Who among us has not sought some form of help in enduring and making
sense out of the pain of a death in the family, a divorce, unemployment, or intense psycho-
logical suffering? Whether that help came from a psychotherapist or not, we can still ac-
knowledge the comfort received in knowing that someone was sharing the burden of our
grief, the weight of our pain.
Three additional therapeutic aspects were also brought to light. Many received guid-
ance regarding problematic situations. The supporting presence of the teacher also helped a
number of co-participants to face painful personal issues. And several described the expe-
rience of intense emotional states, either painful or pleasant.
All three of these aspects can be discussed by turning once again to the poet Rumi
(Schimmel, 1992). Rumi likened his relationship with his teacher Shams to that of a potter
making a vase. He said that while the outer hand of the potter is molding and kneading and
working the clay, inside the vessel the teacher provides the warm hand of support. The lov-
ing atmosphere engendered in the relationship with a spiritual teacher allowed the inner life
of the student to emerge in a less threatening manner. At the time, the student is perhaps
conscious only of the pain involved in the molding and the kneading of the ego and its at-
tachments. But because the student is now in the safe harbor of the teacher's love, fear of the
pain has subsided or become manageable. Life has attained a greater meaning; thus, even
the painful aspects of that life have meaning as well. The student, bolstered by the teacher's
love, is more courageous in facing the storms oflife. And so, returning to Rumi's metaphor,
eventually a beautiful vessel is formed. This beautiful vessel is largely comprised of a
greater psychological integration.
This integration provides a natural segue to the next comprehensive constituent theme,
a heightened awareness of one's authentic self-nature. Due to the nurturing encouragement
discussed earlier and to the therapeutic nature of the experience, the students of a purely
loving teacher gain a greater sense of who they are. They embark upon the path of self-
actualization. Accepted, loved, and respected by the spiritual teacher, 11 co-participants de-
scribed experiences ofa heightened awareness of their authentic selves.
One co-participant was particularly expressive in this regard. Following are several
quotes from his protocol.
They keep bringing me back to myself.
Tbey keep giving me opportunities to look at the different layers of what I thought of as myself-my
cultural self, my racial self, my, all of those multiplicities of selves that I have.
It was just this peeling and peeling.
A feeling of a quality of love that nourishes the natural unfoldment of my self to my self.

Coming to this newfound self-awareness was sometimes more an ordeal than an

epiphany. As discussed earlier, painful realizations and troublesome states of mind often
rose to the surface. As we become stronger in who we genuinely are, perhaps we muster the
courage to face our shortcomings, our personal foibles. Our restricting and limiting inter-
pretations of being, our confused and distorted ways of relating to ourselves and the world,
become more apparent. Also more apparent is the need to cast off these hindering interpre-
tations and behaviors.
This path of self-actualization led 10 of the co-participants quite naturally to a height-
ened awareness of unconditional love within their own being. Becoming more accepting
and loving of themselves, strengthened by a clearer perception of their potentials and actu-
EXPERIENCE OF BEING UNCONDITIONALLY LOVED 331

alities and the greater ability to embrace their imperfections, they were increasingly able to
accept and love those around them. In fact, many co-participants came to the realization
that unconditional love is a quality that is inherent in or organic to our being-in-the-world.
Again, I will rely upon the words of the co-participants themselves.
It is the most natural thing in the world.
Regarding unconditional love, in general ... it has its natural place in the universe of mankind.
Everything in the universe is longing to go back to this love.
The mind has created a separation from that love.
It is the truth of what we are, the embodiment oflove.
It is the birthright of everybody.
It is given ... with an acknowledgment that this is simply my natural and organic entitlement by be-
ing born into this life.

Another contributing factor to the heightened awareness of unconditional love appears

to be the mutuality discussed above. The blossoming care and affection that the co-partici-
pants felt for their teachers begins to radiate toward a widening circle of individuals. What
a wonderful process this is, unconditional love begetting unconditional love begetting un-
conditional love. Meher Baba, a Sufi saint of this century, is said to have commented:
Love can never be forced on anyone. It can be awakened in her or him through love itself.
Love is essentially self-communicative. Those who do not have it catch it from those who have it.
True love is unconquerable and irresistible and it goes on gathering power and spreading itself un-
til eventually it transforms everyone whom it touches.

It is important to mention that four of the co-participants viewed family members as the
spiritual teachers from whom they received unconditional love. Two ofthese co-participants
were mother and daughter, so in this particular instance three generations were involved-a
mother unconditionally loving her child who, becoming a mother, unconditionally loves her
child. The mother described this process as the passing oflove "from canoe to canoe." Again,
how natural this appears to be.
The mention of this family connection, coupled with the previous observation that un-
conditional love is inherent in or organic to our individual nature, suggests further realizations.
Unconditional love is not just the unreachable domain of gurus, shamans, or clergy. Nor is un-
conditional love something "out there" that we acquire; it is already part and parcel of our
lives, of our very being. We simply need to become aware of it. The judgments and evaluations
that are so often a part of human relationships are seen to be ephemeral products of the mind.
As those judgments and evaluations are peeled away or held in abeyance, we find that love in
its unconditional form has been waiting there all along, an ember glowing ever so faintly, an
ember that can be fanned and fueled to greater and greater brightness. We all can open our
hearts, we all can love our children, our spouses, and our fellow human beings in this way.
This greater understanding of unconditional love is reflective of a wider dynamic. The
co-participants underwent a shift in their perception of self in relationship to others and the
world. They felt more capable or responsible, they had a better sense of belonging or of
equality, they were more altruistic or reverent, they had more faith or trust or appreciation.
One of the co-participants beautifully portrays this shift. She writes:
It's not like, maybe what I did would be different, but now I'm able to deal with what happens
on a better level, much more appreciative and much less resistance and getting where maybe [I'm]
not trying to control things as much. But just acknowledging how special it is just to be aware of
 332 CRAIG MATSU-PISSOT

[her teacher's] presence in my life because that has brought a lot of comfort and a lot of being able
to talk myself through whatever's happening. It's given me just a lot more courage and peace of
mind. Just accepting instead of trying to change things, to relax sometimes and let things be and re-
lax to the point where it's like, this is okay, and just try to move forward from there.

The transpersonal aspects of the experience also contributed to this change in percep-
tion of the external world. Spiritual experiences have often been credited for meaningful
changes in people's lives. As we see life in such an expanded manner, even for a short pe-
riod of time, this expansion triggers a subtle transformation that slowly permeates various
aspects of our lives.
Another expression of this transformation, as part of receiving unconditional love
from a spiritual teacher, is that the experiencer gains a deeper understanding of or commit-
ment to the spiritual or sacred. This was the case for all 12 co-participants. The following
quotes indicate the breadth of this particular aspect of the experience:
In my mother's presence, I feel ... the sacredness oflife.
A supernatural phenomenon, employing the intercession of the Holy Spirit, who lives in every
believer.
The relationship is constantly developing as I open myself to her grace.
Unconditional love was a way of initiating, sustaining, and fostering deep wisdom.

Some co-participants saw life or features oflife as more sacred, others grew in appreciation
of great spiritual teachers of the past, many found a greater commitment to their teachers
and the teacher's principles, and there were those who found a deeper awareness of spiritual
virtues such as compassion, humility, understanding, devotion, and gratitude.
Experiencing therapeutic benefits, self-actualizing, finding unconditional love within,
shifting toward a new perspective of others and the world, and gaining a heightened com-
prehension of spiritual or sacred understandings are all interrelated. These experiences
share much in both their quality and their texture, and all make up and spring from the jour-
ney to self-awareness and inner transformation.
Moreover, for the co-participants, this journey has not ended. The repercussions of re-
ceiving unconditional love from a spiritual teacher continue from the time of the experience
into the present. The co-participants expressed that the reception of such a positive recog-
nition has continued to unfold in an influential, inspiring way. The experience of all these
inner movements evoked within them carries an impact that stirs a rippling momentum.
A vital element that perseveres in the minds of the co-participants is the magic of those
moments when they basked in the warmth of their teachers' love. The continuing presence
of the teacher is captured in these moments. Once again, I offer their words:
Even as I write these words, my eyes water.
It touched something in me that I never will forget.
I felt blessed, protected, and this feeling seemed very permanent, as if it would last many lifetimes.
Those dear people who have given unconditional love to me still do so from the other side.
He continues to be with me.
Her blessings are always available.
There is no separation.

It seems somehow natural to conclude this discussion with this theme, for, though this
discussion will soon come to an end, the experience lives on within the hearts of the co-
EXPERIENCE OF BEING UNCONDITIONALLY LOVED 333

participants. To have such a profound experience, if even for a short period of time, is
bound to trigger moments of contemplation and unfoldment for a long time to come.
While interviewing the co-participants, I was continually struck by their poignant expres-
sions, by the tears in their eyes. Many, if not all, expressed gratitude for being able to take
part in the project because taking part brought back to life the intimate contact that was be-
ing described. It was obvious that the experience was still very significant to each and
every person as he or she spoke-so much so that I could not help but feel deeply moved
myself.
Spiritual energy is often compared to the brilliant light of the sun. It shines continually
in all directions, bearing with it a subtle yet penetrating warmth. There are perhaps many of
us who, due to the world we have constructed, are blind to the sun, to the golden illuminat-
ing force that reveals to us our own innate, starlike, spiritual essence. But even when blind,
when even purposely closing our eyes, none of us can block out the subtle penetration of the
warmth of that sun.
Unconditional love is a most important aspect, if not the primary expression, of the
spectrum of spiritual energy. What you have just read regarding the experience of receiv-
ing unconditional love from a spiritual teacher is based on the words of people who were
open to that experience. These peoples' words describe what it is like to knowingly bask in
such light and warmth.
It is precisely because the loving sun shines without judgment that it can so magnifi-
cently and completely illuminate our inner and outer worlds. And so, from within this
deeply affectionate light, we can see more clearly the nature of our relationships with our-
selves, the people in our lives, and the environment in which we live. In this gentle radiance,
we can more fully know, pursue, and attain our personal goals, we can become aware of the
beauty of our own unique being.
In this sense, the sun of unconditional love is in the world but not of the world. As we
experience ourselves in increasingly accepting ways, as our vision of being more com-
pletely approaches an expanded view, we begin to experience those around us with an in-
creasingly loving eye. We can see ourselves and others more fully, not just as a collection of
characteristics, a mere mixture of emotions and thoughts and feelings expressed in speech
and action. We begin to be aware of something greater, something marvelous and ineffable,
and we realize that the boundaries that separate us from that ineffable marvel are becom-
ing increasingly permeable. We become involved in a graceful and grace-filled relationship
with everything that is encountered.
Unconditional love. Rumi, the great Sufi poet-mystic, wrote of this love: "I've heard it
said, there's a window that opens from one mind to another, / but if there's no wall, there's
no need for fitting the window, or the latch."

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Bracket, C. (1975). Toward a clarification of the need hierarchy theory: Some extensions of Maslow's conceptu-
alizations. Interpersonal Development. 6. 79-90.
Buber, M. (1965). The knowledge ofman: A philosophy ofthe interhuman. New York: Harper & Row.
Buber, M. (1970). I and Thou. New York: Scribner's.
Castaneda, C. (1968). The teachings ofDon Juan. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Castaneda, C. (1972). Journey to Ixtlan: The lessons ofDon Juan. New York: Pocket Books.
334 CRAIG MATSU-PISSOT

Colaizzi, P. F. (1978). Psychological research as the phenomenologist views it. In R. S. Valle & M. King (Eds.),
Existential-phenomenological alternatives for psychology (pp. 48-71). New York: Oxford University Press.
Dietch,1. (1978). Love, sex roles, and psychological health. Journal ofPersonality Assessment, 42(6),626-634.
Glick, S. (1983) An analysis of the change process in the guru-disciple relationship. Philadelphia: Temple Uni-
versity Press.
Harper, R. (1966) Human love: Existential and mystical. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press.
Hawka, S. M. (1985). The experience offeeling unconditionally loved. Cincinnati, OH: Union Institute.
Monrich, H. (1985). Teaching and learning in love. PsychologicalAbstracts, 74(7), Arlington, VA: American Psy-
chological Association.
Motto, 1. A., & Stein, E. V. (1973). A group approach to guilt in depressive and suicidal patients. Journal ofReli-
gion and Health, 12(4),378-385.
Muktananda. (1980). The perfect relationship. South Fallsburg, NY: SYDA Foundation.
Rinpoche, S. (1992). The Tibetan book of living and dying. San Francisco: Harper Collins.
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Solimar, V. (1987). The nature and experience ofself-love. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, California Institute
of Integral Studies, San Francisco.
Tillich, P. (1967). Systematic theology: Three volumes in one. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Venkatesanda. (1989). The concise srimad bhagavatam. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Wangyal, G. (1978). The door of liberation: Essential teachings of the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. New York: Lot-
sawa.
Weinmann, L. L., & Newcombe, N. (1990). Relational aspects of identity: Late adolescents' perceptions of their
relationships with parents. Journal ofExperimental Child Psychology, 50(3),357-369.
Welwood, 1. (1990). Journey of the heart. New York: Harper Collins.
 16

On Being with Suffering

Patricia A. Qualls

Time to go into the darkness. That place where every fear and disappointment lives. Where every-
thing that frightened and hurt you as a child lies waiting for a chance at revenge. Every self doubt
and recrimination simmers on the back burner in hell's kitchen surrounded by pools of tears, sweat,
and blood. You can hear cries from children there. Children you can never soothe. There in the im-
penetrable darkness are the eyes. Two big, dark eyes that look like full round moons silently sus-
pended in the pale night. Bottomless pits that cannot veil their ravenous hunger. I cannot look at
them fully. I am embarrassed by the naked need and my inability to ease their pain. I tum to walk
away and know that in that moment there is no escape. Each time I look into a mirror I see their re-
flection in my two big eyes. (Co-researcher Mary)

Each day the television news is filled with film of dying children, slaughtered human beings,
starving and war-ravaged humanity. Each day millions of people watch and then do something
with that which they have witnessed. They may store it, ignore it, harden to it, self-medicate,
or respond to it with action. Suffering is not only on our televisions, it is in our lives.
Some people manage to distance themselves from suffering. Others live with and
around suffering every day. Many who have chosen to work in mental and physical health
care facilities have a constant exposure to suffering humanity. Family and professional care-
givers such as nurses, doctors, psychotherapists, and ministers deal with suffering individ-
uals daily. In my experience, these individuals are striving to alleviate suffering. Yet, with
all of this direct personal contact, there remains little understanding of the experience of
suffering itself, and there is even less understanding of the experience of "being with" the
suffering of another.
As my years of clinical course work in graduate psychology came to an end, I was
looking for something to do that would be "meaningful." I was offered an opportunity to
work as a volunteer in a Romanian orphanage as a caregiver for children. When this oppor-
tunity presented itself, I did what any graduate student worth her salt would do: I went to

Patricia A. Qualls • 26405 Valley View, Carmel, California 93923.

335
 336 PATRICIA A. QUALLS

the library. There, I searched for anything addressing orphans, institutional care, and child
rearing. What I found were studies of the ravages of World War II. I armed myself with
child development literature, attachment theory, ideas on bonding, self-psychology, and any
other insight or perspective that I might add to my arsenal to be a "good helper." I took it
upon myself to make copies of this literature to give to my fellow volunteers at an orienta-
tion meeting in New York. I worked diligently in a few weeks' time to prepare myself-and,
I hoped, those who would work with me-for the job that lay ahead. As a caregiver, I fo-
cused on those we would be caring for, their needs, and their lack of basic care, both phys-
ically and emotionally.
Missing, however, was a key piece-understanding the physical, emotional, and psy-
chosocial needs of the caregivers themselves in situations of extreme suffering. I had kept
myself so busy "doing" what needed to be done for others and trying to ease my own anxi-
ety with academic theory that I had missed, up to this point, a crucial piece of the equation,
namely, that the givers of care and the cared for are in a symbiotic relationship in the lived-
experience of suffering. It was with this realization that I decided to use my time in Roma-
nia as the basis of my doctoral research, a phenomenological investigation of the experience
of "being with the suffering of orphaned children one has cared for."
Even with this awareness and design, it was not until I returned to America after eight
months in Romania that I even began to understand the impact of living with and respond-
ing to the suffering of others. Being with suffering has shown itself to be a rich and com-
plex experience calling for a deeper understanding. It is this deeper understanding that has
come from my research that I share in this chapter.

CONTEMPORARY VIEWS OF SUFFERING

Few training programs in the helping professions prepare the student to deal with suf-
fering, to be with it, or to simply allow it to be. Instead, we discuss the alleviation of pain
and pain control. The complexities of suffering are rarely honored. As stated by Archer-
Copp (1990, p. 35): "... no one, including the anthropologist, sociologist, and psychologist,
has markedly enriched our awareness of the phenomenon of suffering. The course is almost
uncharted...." The moral theologian Franz Bockle (1987) describes society as led astray
by the illusion that we might be free of suffering. We therefore try to escape suffering and
the embarrassing stigma that often accompanies it. Our progressive society has established
an anonymous ban on suffering (Metz, 1995). If there is a denial of suffering, we cannot
help those who suffer, nor can we address the needs of the caregivers who are attending to
this phenomenon.
Websters New Collegiate Dictionary (1976, p. 1164) defines "suffer" as "to be forced
to endure death, pain, or distress; to sustain loss or damage." It seems that most if not all hu-
man beings experience suffering at some time during their lives. It has been said to be an in-
herent part of the human condition. For some, it is physical suffering and pain; for others, it
may be psychic and/or spiritual suffering.
Suffering-the meaning of, the reason for-has been explored by almost all of the
world's great religions, and theologians have built grand theories designed to make sense of
it. Psychologists with an existential leaning regard suffering as an integral part of how we
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 337

impart meaning to our existence. Frankl (1959), for example, believed meaning to be in the
very fabric of human experience and emphasized the power of the human spirit to overcome
suffering. Consistent with this emphasis on the relationship between meaning and suffering,
Starck and McGovern (1992, p. 28) point to the possibilities inherent in suffering for the
caregiver as well as for the one who is suffering:
Suffering has the potential to transform the sufferer and/or caregiver and offers an opportunity
for the sufferer and/or caregiver to experience discovery and growth and to give and/or receive
compassion and love. Thus, those who suffer can find new meaning in life, as can those who care
for the sufferers.

One could consider this self-transformative potential or power as the hidden grace in suffering.
Acknowledging the existence of pain in the world, society has attempted to address
via, for example, hospitals, foundations, or charitable organizations, the needs of those who
suffer. On the front line of personal intimate contact, however, are those who deliver some
type of service, care, or protection to the one who is experiencing pain. While most of us
understand intellectually why avoidance and denial may accompany the phenomenon of
suffering, it is from this more personal contact that a deeper questioning arises. What is the
experience of being with suffering? How is it actually lived? How does it come to make it-
self known to the one who is experiencing it? Does it have texture, color, smell, or flavor?
Does it present itself as emotional phases or developmental stages? My research attempted
to answer questions such as these, in the hope that it will provide a deeper understanding so
that we might become more sensitive to our own pain and to the suffering of others.

AN OVERVIEW OF THE RESEARCH

The purpose of this study was to enter into the inner world of caregivers who know-
ingly moved toward the suffering of others. More specifically, I investigated the phenome-
non of being with suffering in the lives of nine individuals (eight women and one man) who
had traveled to Eastern Europe to work as volunteers with the children in a Romanian or-
phanage. My hope was to allow the descriptive world of these caregivers to enlighten oth-
ers about their experience and thereby enhance our sensitivities toward the suffering in our
society in general, and that of the courageous caregivers who serve in our society's institu-
tions in particular. One way to become more aware of suffering is to communicate directly
with and listen to those who are in pain. There are times when those who are suffering have
no voice. There are times when the rest of the world has no ears. There are even times when
the givers of care have lost their selves.
This study consists of descriptions offered by these nine volunteers; the internal
worlds of each participant are brought to light as they describe their own unique way of liv-
ing with the suffering of these children. These descriptions were then analyzed using a phe-
nomenological research method (described below), the elements so discerned being woven
together in a summary form that expresses the essence of the experience of being with suf-
fering in this context.
I personally worked with the co-researchers of this study in an orphanage and hospi-
tal in Romania, a small country in Eastern Europe about the size of Oregon, surrounded by
Hungary, the former Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, and the former Soviet Union. The long-time
338 PATRICIA A. QUALLS

Communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, who had resisted the reform movement that was
overtaking Eastern Europe, was tried and executed in December 1989. It was shortly after
his death that the cameras of the world revealed the atrocities of his reign, including the
conditions of the orphanages in Romania. Most of the individuals participating in this study
saw this film and began to search for a way to reach the children in these institutions. Also
in response, many organizations had begun grassroot efforts to help, one such organization
adopting an orphanage in the village of Calarasi. In conjunction with this particular orga-
nization, the first group of co-researchers in this study arrived in Romania in April 1991, 16
months after the fall of Communism.
The village of Calarasi was a two-hour drive from Bucharest. I will never forget my
first sight of this town. A giant steel factory billowing out black smoke and orange flames
welcomed us. Black soot filled the air and covered the town with a film. The local residents
were not even aware of it. These smells were the first to assault us. Starving wild dogs
roamed the streets. Gypsies and their wagons were a part of the landscape. Every once in a
while, one of the few cars would come tearing down a potholed road, scattering people,
horses, and dogs.
We were the first Americans the people of this village had ever seen. When we arrived,
they followed us in groups, watching our ways, admiring our clothes, some reaching out to
touch us. Because of the years of Securitate (secret police) persecutions, they were at first
afraid to speak to anyone from another country. It was common practice to wiretap homes
of the citizens of this country and to have informants reporting to the Securitate. We had ar-
rived in a country where oppression was the rule, not the exception. Mistrust and the need
to survive had taken its toll on the townspeople.
As we began to make friends with some of the local residents, we soon learned that the
idea of us volunteering to help in the orphanages was unbelievable. Survival was such a ba-
sic premise that the villagers had no time or energy to volunteer anything outside their im-
mediate circle of family and friends. Buying a quart of milk or a loaf of bread might mean
waiting in line for an hour or two at each store. Obtaining fuel for the kitchen stove might
require a two- or three-day wait out in the freezing weather.
Survival and suffering were apparent for all to experience and to witness. The condi-
tions at the orphanage were such that most of the children had never received basic care,
much less the love and tenderness needed for healthy development. The children were left
unattended in rooms, lying in their urine and feces, and there was no stimulation provided.
Flies and mosquitoes covered their bodies in the summer. Their little bodies were often cov-
ered with sores from insect bites. Human touch was rare and most often was handed out
only as a harsh, disciplinary action. Many of the children were infected with the HIV or the
hepatitis B virus. At times, the children were tied to their beds. The newborns in the hospi-
tal section were starving. Drinking water was not given to the children. Hot water was a rare
commodity, as was soap, and basic cleanliness was very difficult to achieve. Most of the
children were unable to talk. There were many children, four and five years old, who could
not walk and had not been introduced to solid foods. Children who could not walk and feed
themselves by the age of six were to be sent to homes for the irrecoverable. The conditions
in these institutions were known to be even harsher and more horrifying.
These were the conditions that the co-researchers in this study experienced each and
every day. The context and details of the study follow.
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 339

PERSONAL HISTORY AND CHOOSING A METHOD

The study of suffering has been left primarily to either the religions of the world or the
medical sciences, and even in these circles there is minimal research on the phenomenon of
being with suffering. Since the purpose of the study was to bring to light the lived experi-
ence of individuals being with suffering, I chose the existential-phenomenological ap-
proach as the most appropriate perspective to apply in understanding the essential nature of
this phenomenon. As Watson (1985, p. 205) says, "In the day-to-day living that brings prob-
lems, struggles, pain, and suffering to many people, the existential-phenomenological fac-
tors bring personal meaning to the human predicament."
As a person and therapist who cares for what is most essential to being, I chose an ex-
istential-phenomenological method since, instead of focusing on statistical relationships
between operationalized variables, this approach studies lived-meanings. More specifically,
I used a structural-type analysis designed to reveal and articulate the basic elements or con-
stituents of the experience of "being with the suffering of orphaned children one has cared
for." This life-world experience was studied and interpreted in this way, revealing a depth,
fullness, and richness previously unknown.
Consider this example. There is a difference between our prereflective, lived, felt-sense
of "hearing a child cry" and our reflective comprehension of the same. Being a new mother
constantly teaches me new ways of thinking, seeing, hearing, and feeling. My sensing now
has a broader range of meaning for me. Before becoming a mother, I would hear a child cry
and identify it as simply that. Now my ears distinguish such different cries as those of
hunger, distress, pain, wet diaper, frustration, and anger. I feel the differences in my body,
and I respond accordingly. The sound enters through my ears and gives my body messages
to respond immediately, or to take a moment, he will right himself or reach his goal, or "Oh
my God!" My reflective responses prior to motherhood were cursory or not as deeply felt
or systematically processed. My relationship to the sound of any baby crying was also much
different than it is now. The sound of a baby crying now offers a depth and breadth of com-
munication that I never understood before. Meanings and themes regarding my own child
are unique and are constantly broadened and enhanced as each new stage in his develop-
ment is reached. My response to other babies has changed as I have learned from my own
child. As I have been brought into the world of a new being and travel from newborn to in-
fant to toddler, I have learned to listen and sense on a level within my being that I never
knew existed before. At first glance, "baby crying" elicited such reactions as acknowledg-
ment, searching for its location, and determining whether the child is attended to. Of
course, I wonder "why" my baby is crying, but Il1.0re important, I am listening and asking
"what" is my baby saying? What is his experience in this moment? What is he telling me?
"Baby crying" still calls me to hear and attune to tone, meaning in the tone, pitch of
the sound, and I still search for and notice what happens, but more is included now in this
initial connection. A level of "measuring" is also happening that was not a part of me prior
to my "training" in the lived experience of being a mother. In other words, the structure of
meaning of this experience has revealed itself in a new way since my own life-world has the
added dimension of motherhood. Only now that I have been with my son's crying in vari-
ous situations on repeated occasions have the meaning and form of his communication be-
come known to me.
340 PATRICIA A. QUAllS

On Bracketing
These meanings are now based in my ever-unfolding history; that is, I always have new
assumptions. In the phenomenological approach to revealing the prereflective structure of
any meaningful experience, self-reflection is central and involves a process known as
"bracketing." Bracketing refers to the process of identifying one's preconceived notions
(i.e., biases) regarding the experience being investigated in order to minimize their effects
on clearly explicating the meaning of the co-researchers' descriptions (Valle, King, &
Halling, 1989).
In this study of being with suffering, I was a caregiver who actually had the experi-
ence of being with the orphans, an experience that was deeply meaningful for me in many
ways. In addition, I assumed that the reality I had perceived was very similar to that per-
ceived by the other caregivers, since we all went to the same village, worked in the same
orphanage, and many times were with the same children. We all brought a unique history,
personality, energy level, and even purpose to engage this experience. In this context, I
would like to share with you a few of my biases regarding this experience as examples of
what I held in my awareness (i.e., bracketed) as I read and reread the descriptive protocols
of my fellow volunteers. I have many beliefs about suffering both as one who has suffered
and as one who has been with those in pain. Having survived a major depression 12 years
ago, I found myself forever changed in a positive way. I felt I was given my self, a second
chance, a rebirth to experience life more fully. That experience seems distant now, the raw-
ness is gone, the layers between myself and the world that had been stripped away have
started to grow back. In many ways, I idealize that time of suffering in my life as extremely
rich. Without that experience, I now feel, I would not have developed as deep a level of
compassion, of understanding, and of empathy as I now have. It is with this history in
mind that I share with you a number of the biases I discovered within: I had believed that
(1) all the caregivers would turn to God or some deep spiritual or religious belief system
to help them with this experience; (2) humor would reveal itself as important in this expe-
rience; (3) being with suffering made one's life rich and meaningful, and this would lead
to positive feelings regarding the experience; (4) being with suffering strips away the usual
way of presenting oneself to the world; and (5) "doing" is sometimes a way of coping with
suffering.

Selection of Co-Researchers
Since this research was about the in,Yestigation of individual caregivers' "being with
suffering," one of Heidegger's beliefs is an important premise to understand. Von Eckarts-
berg (1986, p. 12) describes Heidegger's thoughts about being in the world as grounded
in care, "in concernful presence and openness to the world and others." Another reason I
chose the existential-phenomenological approach is that it would enable me to enter into
the lived-experience of the co-researchers in a "caring" way. The co-researchers spent
weeks and, in some cases, months living this experience, and then took many hours to
write about it, and then share it with me. Our "walk-through" interviews (described below)
often involved hours of travel time for many ofthem. They were not the subjects or objects
of my research, but rather co-researchers who kindly agreed to "re-live" their experiences
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 341

so that we might "re-search" the phenomenon of "being with suffering." This project is the
product of reciprocal relationships, a project that could be accomplished only through
partnership.
The co-researchers met two requirements: (1) They had had the experience of being
with the suffering of orphaned children they had cared for and (2) they had the willingness
and ability to communicate this experience (Polkinghome, 1989).

Eliciting the Protocols

Each co-researcher was given or mailed a sheet of paper with the following request:
"Please describe your experience of being with the suffering of the children you cared for
in Romania." They were asked to focus on the experience, not just the situation. They were
instructed to include enough detail to fully describe their experience, to not stop writing un-
til they had done so, and to take as much time as they needed to complete their description.
After first reading the written protocols, I arranged an in-person "walk-through" in-
terview with each co-researcher. The purpose of this interview was to present each co-
researcher with his or her previously written statements, one by one, in order to elicit any
more thoughts or feelings he or she might have. The walk-through interview was an oppor-
tunity to once again be with the experience and to expand the description of the phenome-
non in a deeper way. These interviews were recorded on audio tape and then transcribed.
Any words added during the interview plus the original written statements became the final
protocol for each co-researcher.

Analyzing the Protocols

The analysis of these data was based on procedures developed by Giorgi (1971, 1975)
and Colaizzi (1978). All protocols were read as a way of getting an initial feeling from the
descriptions. As I read, any words or statements that "jumped out" were simply noted in the
margin. A second reading was approached with a more searching eye, watching for words
and phrases that struck me as significant (i.e., meaning units). The protocols were now re-
viewed with a focus on recognizing themes coming from the meaning units, which allowed
for the emergence of a series of themes for each co-researcher's protocol. These themes
were then examined across protocols, forming theme clusters. The theme clusters were then
referred back to the original protocols for validation. The final themes were then synthe-
sized to form the essential structural definition of the experience of "being with the suffer-
ing of orphaned children one has cared for."
Following Becker (1992), I stayed "with the data" each step of the way, dwelling and
reflecting on the co-researchers' exact words and meanings. I asked myself these questions:
What stood out about this phenomenon? What is the most important aspect? What is the
next most important? How do they fit together?
These co-researchers repeatedly demonstrated their courage by participating in the
care of these children, and then by recounting their experiences for this study. These nine
individuals went to Romania with the hope of alleviating suffering in some way. In what
follows, I invite you to participate in their lived experiences and in all of the many ways in
which these experiences have had an impact on their lives.
 342 PATRICIA A. QUAllS

THE FINDINGS

The following presentation describes the co-researchers' experiences by synthesizing

their own words. I have explicitly trusted the co-researchers' descriptive narrations to be
rich enough to take us deeper into their experiences. This presentation is not meant to offer
an exhaustive analysis of the experience of being with suffering. My intention here is to elu-
cidate new meanings and thereby to broaden our understanding of what it is like to be with
the suffering these individuals experienced. Although another researcher may uncover dif-
ferent meaning structures, my hope is that from this presentation, one will be able to see
how I moved from the co-researchers'words to the final description of the experience.
Reading and rereading the protocols led me to view the data in two general ways: (l)
in a temporal, more linear fashion, and (2) as revealing their underlying elements or con-
stituent themes. In terms of time, the experience emerged in four recognizable components
or phases: (1) the initial desire to go to Romania, (2) the introductory time of actually being
there in Romania, (3) the day-to-day living with the experience, and (4) living with the ex-
perience today. While "being with suffering" takes on a particular quality in each of these
four phases, seeing the process of the experience unfolding in this way was helpful in the
early stages of organizing the meaning units and themes. In many ways, this subdivision of
responses in time facilitated my recognizing important aspects of the experience and how
they interweave in the fabric of the descriptions.
When I say "interweave," I imagine a beautiful rug or tapestry in which the threads
move back and forth across the width of the rug, sometimes touching in just the right place
to make an immediate connection. At other times, the threads do not touch, yet are con-
nected by s.till other threads. Sometimes the exact colors repeat themselves, while at other
times a totally different color appears, or something ofa lighter shade makes itself known.
In their weaving together, they offer us a pattern to perceive. Whatever the variant forms,
each thread is part of the whole. Although analogous to this physical example, the process
of unveiling the meaning of an experience from written protocols is, of course, another mat-
ter. In phenomenological analysis, there is never one way to interpret the essence or mean-
ing of any given set of written or transcribed descriptions. Rather, on the basis of his or her
own self-reflective sensitivities and interpretive sense, each researcher offers a way in the
hope of deepening one's understanding of the experience being investigated.
With this tapestry image in mind, I began to envision the experience of being with suf-
fering as a circle with no beginning and no end. I then watched as definitive patterns began
to make themselves known along this circular path. In this way, I began to find ways to un-
derstand and embrace the data, ways that seemed to keep growing and expanding.
The process gradually revealed aspects of the experience that were not limited by time,
dimensions that did not easily fit into a slot or category. The descriptions showed an ebb and
flow with the past, present, and future. A variety of external and internal forces alike
seemed to shape each instance described, as constituents and themes began to make them-
selves known. This nonlinear, dynamic, more feminine way of articulating the threads of the
tapestry is in line with the more classic approach of protocol analysis. These two ways of
looking at the descriptions offered by the co-researchers helped to articulate the following
ten themes, collectively representing the essential nature of "being with the suffering of or-
phaned children one has cared for" in this study:
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 343

1. Emotional and physical responses.

2. Continual questioning.
3. Indelible and unforgettable experiences.
4. Making a difference, often with hope.
5. Being transformed.
6. Experiencing an altered reality.
7. Relationships with the children or relating with the children.
8. Communicating with God.
9. Developing ways of coping.
10. Reality orientation: coming to terms.
Let us look at each of these themes in turn.
1. Emotional and physical responses. Entering the orphanage was the beginning of
an emotional and physical roller coaster. A wide range of bodily sensations were apparent.
There was the struggling with nausea and the desire to run. The shock of such suffering was
overwhelming, devastating, appalling, frightening, and deeply moving. Even on the first
day, feelings of hopelessness and helplessness began to appear. Arriving at the orphanage
opened a wide range of unexpected emotions. Feelings of fear and disgust toward the chil-
dren were a surprise to some of the caregivers. Co-researcher Mary describes her feelings:
[I was] overwhelmed by the sadness and desperate needs of these children. 1 hear the muffled cry-
ing from the children upstairs.

a. Not prepared. While the participants in this study had believed themselves to be
prepared for anything, they were caught off guard by the sickening smell, the sounds, the
flies and mosquitoes, and the actual state of the children. There was no way to prepare for
this experience. Co-researcher Rachel shares her initial experience:
1 don't know if 1 can describe to you how 1 felt walking through those doors. 1 thought 1 had pre-
pared myself for what 1 was about to see, but 1 guess there is never really any way to mentally pre-
pare yourselffor such suffering. . . .

Another example is described by co-researcher Krystal:

1 tried to prepare nlyself as best as possible for the sights but you can't prepare for the sounds and
you can't prepare for the smells.

The caregivers not only were not prepared for what they were witnessing, but also
were not prepared for the wide range of emotional and physical responses that were arising
within them.
Co-researcher Rachel's description continues:
1think the only way 1 can describe how 1 felt at that very moment was that 1 wanted to vomit. 1 felt
like 1 was going to lose everything in my stomach. 1 couldn't even cry. 1just wanted to run. 1 didn't
want to be there; 1 didn't want to see this; 1 didn't want to hear the children crying. All of a sudden,
1 didn't want any part of this. 1just wanted to go home.

b. Hopelessness and helplessness. The hopelessness and helplessness came in waves.

The co-researchers' deepest sense of themselves was challenged; at times, feelings of in-
adequacy as caregivers flooded or overwhelmed them. Consider co-researcher Krystal's
experience:
344 PATRICIA A. QUALLS

I felt so helpless, because of my fear and I wasn't expecting that. I didn't think that would be a prob-
lem and I was just amazed that I was afraid of this little, little, teeny little wispy child.

Co-researcher Mary describes feeling a constant drone of helplessness and a feeling of

being ineffectual that at times was paralyzing:
I was knocked out of the illusion that I was here to help these children and these people. Hell, I
couldn't even help myself.

c. Anger, guilt, sadness, and pain. Anger at the Romanian workers, the United States,
and God appeared in the beginning. There was guilt for not being able to do enough, for not
being able to be the persons that they thought they were or could be. Shame was added to
the guilt for having feelings of disgust at and fear of these animal-like children. The feel-
ings of guilt, which were present throughout much of the experience, are even more alive
today for a number of the co-researchers. They describe a continuing struggle with guilt
about leaving the children in Romania, as well as going on with their own lives. Co-
researcher Marcos describes his feelings:
Guilt often nagged at me when I think of them; it still does. Anger at the orphanage workers and my
fellow man in general, particularly the privileged Americans, often filled my heart and still does.
Who are we to go on when others suffer?

Co-researcher Lisa states:

This [not feeling the children's pain is when the part offeeling ashamed comes in.

A lingering sadness for the children seems always present, and the experience remains
very painful. Co-researcher Jeanann states:
My memories to share with you about Calarasi will be only peppered with my sorrow, frustrations,
and a whole gamut of emotions I had never experienced before in my life. Because to dig so deep
into these extraordinary three months and come in full touch with what I felt, as you have re-
quested, would be too painful.

There is ambivalence about the pain. The caregivers, at times, wanted the pain to leave,
while at other times they wanted to hold onto it. Co-researcher Jeanann recounts an incident
in the interview and begins to cry as she asks:
How can it [pain] ever leave? How can I ever ... in some ways I never want it to. I ache for chil-
dren that are not loved and [not] treated like little human beings.

2. Continual questioning. Throughout their descriptions, the caregivers asked them-

selves questions as they attempted to sort out and make sense of their experience. In the ini-
tial contact with the suffering, the questions included these: "What had I gotten into?" "Why
am I here?" Co-researcher Rachel describes herself as a coward because she couldn't face
how horrid the conditions were, and she began to ask herself, "What's wrong with me?"
At some point, their focus shifted from questions about themselves such as "What
have I done?" or "What am I doing here?" to others, the world, and the reality of the situa-
tion itself: How could the Romanians let this happen? Why do we as human beings let oth-
ers suffer? Why do others not respond? In this modem era, how could this be happening?
Just how could this be?
Over and over again, the questions of how and why came from the caregivers' lips. As
co-researcher Marcos asked:
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 345

How did the workers there and the people there live with seeing those kids suffer at their hands?

Co-researcher Jane directly states:

My soul was screaming "How?" and "Why?"

The seemingly endless questions go on: Did I do enough? Did I make a difference?
Did I make it worse or cause harm? Why did I go? What was it I did do? Did we do the right
thing? Why do people cause suffering? Who are we to go on while others suffer? Why don't
we do something? What's going to happen to them? Will it ever end?
Co-researcher Mary describes the continual struggle:
As far as improving the lives of the children, what were we really doing here?! .... In retrospect our
coming seems almost cruel. We held and loved these children, slowly coaxing them into their world
and beyond down by the river ... return them crying and begging not to be left in the four walls of
their prison. Would a blind man be willing to see for an hour knowing that the rest of his life would
be spent in darkness? Would the hour of sight comfort him or would it become a torture and exag-
gerate his darkness? Oh God, did I do the right thing? It's so sad! Do you think we made it worse?
Is it worse? How are we ever going to change the world?

3. Indelible and unforgettable experiences. While the whole experience is certainly

one the caregivers will not forget, there are specific moments or incidences that stand out
for each one of them. Many such moments happened on the first day. Co-researcher
Marcos's description captures the physical responses as well as the unforgettable quality of
the experience:
I remember the pit in my stomach growing deeper when I saw the dingy appearance of the orphan-
age-there it stood, desert brown in the middle of a bone-chilling winter. Probably, one of the most
powerful images for me was stepping into the building, like here it goes, here we go. Now it begins,
now what you really carne here for starts to happen. So, that really is a stark memory.

Co-researcher Jeanann states:

That first day, a chill had just come over me as I remember so vividly walking up the steps and into
a dingy dark hall. My senses were alive with anticipation.

Many report a distinct memory of a child or an incident that is still with them:
I will carry her face through eternity.
I will never forget his eyes, the trembling of his body, the gentle thud of his body next to mine.

In the following description by co-researcher Lisa, one can hear the unforgettable na-
ture of the experience, along with the wide range of physical and emotional responses, and
her self-questioning:
The first day I screamed for help-fifty little sets of eyes looking at me pleading for love and hu-
man touch. I remember walking into the classroom and just being so appalled. I walked in and it
was like throwing yourself against the wall when you see something so frightening. I wanted to do
that so badly, because there were all these babies and children on the floor like animals. I thought,
Oh God, what have I done? What am I doing? I was not prepared for it. I really was not prepared
for the state these children are in. What am I getting into? I will never forget realizing how their lit-
tle bones stick out. Our big bodies looking down on these little animals on the floor. We were use-
less. It was scary. I was scared. I really was.

a. Reentry into America. The reentry into America was a shock. As co-researcher
Mary states:
 346 PATRICIA A. QUAllS

When I got home the first thing I had was a salad and a big glass of water. I was just crying. This
is crazy! I had red tomatoes, and it was incredible.

Co-researcher Jeanann describes her experience:

I thought about that first meal that I had in New York after arriving from the three months in
Romania, and how I had to get up; it was at the hotel. I had to get up and leave the restaurant.
We were having breakfast, and I ordered a waffle, and before it could even come, I looked
around and everything was so clean, and everyone was eating these foods with all these choices,
and it was just the imbalance of them with nothing there and us with so much that I just wanted
... it was too overwhelming for me. I had to get up and go up to the room and just cry and sob.
I had a lot of tears that I guess I had not let go of and that's when they chose to come out, or
it's when I'm just sitting there looking at all of this opulence, really, that we take for granted
every day.

4. Making a difference, often with hope. People saw themselves as coming to the or-
phanages to make major changes, to make a difference, to help. The need to make a differ-
ence, to effect some change, however small, was paramount. Many people felt called to go
and give the children love. As co-researcher Jeanann shared:
I can go and love those kids and I just had to, and then everything fell into place. Couldn't I go and
do something-anything-to make a little difference?

The desire to have awakened something, started a ripple, ignited a spark is still pres-
ent in these individuals today. There is an ongoing struggle about the pull to do more, even
go back.
In this context, the theme of needing to keep hope alive appears again and again. Some
even say feeling the pain or thinking about the children keeps their hope alive and gives
meaning to their experience.
Co-researcher Krystal states:
If I couldn't cry, these children wouldn't be in my heart and maybe this whole thing was for naught, and
it certainly wasn't. And I still dream about them, so that means there's hope and that's good.

Co-researcher Mary says:

There's got to be a grain of hope in there somewhere, or else we should all commit hari kari and be
done with it.

Co-researcher Jeanann reflects:

I guess I have to convince myself, yes, some changes are being made. And we did make a differ-
ence. All these teams going over had awakened something over there. And it just has to start with a
little ripple, you know, and if we've done that, praise God, because some things will be done, and
are being done.

Co-researcher Carrie says:

I'm sure we have done some good to comfort them in their internal and external suffering.

Co-researcher Mary recalls:

There is hope. Hope for these children, and in that thought I can go on. I leave group 5 and begin
climbing the stairs to the cries of the others.

5. Being transformed. There were various experiences that were transformative in na-
ture: moments of renewal when all felt hopeless, anger and judgment melting into compas-
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 347

sion, and self-transformations that opened the heart. Learning about self, others, and ways
of the world occurred in different ways. There was also a growing and changing awareness
regarding the suffering of all children, a rising above oneself, this orphanage, this moment
in time. Co-researcher Rachel said:
You change, you never come back the same.

a. Renewal. Even small changes in the children were renewing. The gifts received
from the children are mentioned throughout the co-researchers' descriptions. Co-researcher
Marcos describes his visits to one of the rooms:
The occasional visits I paid to this group would be refreshing and I realize their energy gave me a
"shot in the arm" numerous times when I needed it.

Relating one particular memory, co-researcher Mary continues:

Ceresala looks up as I call her name and this sets her into motion like a wind-up doll. She claps
her hands and rocks her head back and forth like she is keeping time to music that only she can hear
... I stand at the edge of this insanity. I turn to go and outside the frosted windows I see the tops of
white little flowers breaking the ground as they make their way through the garbage to the sun. I am
renewed in this moment.

b. Compassion. Anger and frustration at those who were entrusted with the care of
these children eventually gave way to compassion for the Romanians involved. The Amer-
icans came to understand how hard life really was in this country. An emerging under-
standing and empathy for the plight of the Romanian people led some to reflect. Consider
co-researcher Marcos' questions:
And then I wonder, are they that much different from me? If I was there, you know, would I have
been the one doing that? How do people get like that?"

The co-researchers were also hard on themselves. They thought they were not doing
enough and felt they were not able to respond with enough caring for the children. But,
much like the change in their feelings for the Romanians, they came to have more compas-
sion for themselves. At one point, co-researcher Lisa stated:
I came to understand the situation was a difficult one and [my] feelings were normal for such a
painful situation.

c. Self-learning. New and deeper self-realizations occurred. Some found, for exam-
ple, a new strength and sense of power balancing or replacing the feelings of inadequacy
and helplessness after they returned. Co-researcher Rachel describes this side as:
I've been to Romania. I can do anything now.

Co-researcher Marcos says:

I have confronted evil in the face and done something about it.

In addition to this self-recognition, these caregivers felt gratitude toward their own par-
ents and expressed an appreciation for parenting skills. A new appreciation for democracy
was expressed as well.
d. A global perspective. Seeing meaning in the suffering of innocent children is very
hard. Yet, being with the pain and isolation of these children awakened an awareness of the
needs of children all around the world. The strong desire to get others involved, to heighten
 348 PATRICIA A. QUALLS

their awareness, and to break one's own and others' denial around this suffering is repeated
again and again. As co-researcher Carrie describes:
I really wasn't aware of problems and I didn't care, because I didn't know and I never thought about
it. You think you would know there would have to be problems in the places where there is oppres-
sion and there is war and strife, there would be problems with children. But you don't think about
it because you're so busy doing whatever you have to do. But since I was there, I've been to other
places and you really see how kids don't have a chance.

The orphanage conditions and general situation were often compared to some kind of
death camp or to the Holocaust. There was even an expressed desire to build a memorial to
these children. Caregivers had to reach more deeply into themselves to attend to the suffer-
ing they were seeing and to admit to themselves that such suffering does, in fact, exist. As
co-researcher Krystal stated:
I had to experience it. And it was a lot crueler than I wanted to believe that people are capable of
being. Look at our history books; look at some of the stuff that isn't documented. This is the thing
that's not documented.

Each individual's awareness regarding suffering in the world has changed, and the de-
sire to do something about this suffering seems quite alive in them. They have come to re-
alize that separation among groups of people is one of the main contributors to the
continuance of unnecessary suffering and that the needs of humanity require a bridge that
connects each of us, one to the other.
6. Experiencing an altered reality. There was a quality about the experience that was
unreal, an altered reality, like watching a horror film or having a bad dream. Which world
was the real world? Co-researcher Rachel, at one point, asked:
Will the real world please stand up?

Yet there was also a quality of seeing in new ways, as described by co-researcher Mary:
Suffering [has] this other side. Like getting a package of M & M's from home would be like the
biggest thrill of your whole life. You would spread out all the colors and you would just look at
them. I've never been on drugs, but I imagine that's what it would be like. Look at the yellow. It's
just so incredible! Every little thing mattered, like the flower in the garbage. But I wouldn't see that
otherwise. I never saw that kind of thing in my life before. My other world, my American world be-
fore I went to Romania. You just walk and you don't see things. [Now] it's almost like you're look-
ing for anything subconsciously that could be worthwhile or redeemable. Something to say, okay,
we are okay as a human being because of this flower. Okay, there's a child smiling. I won't kill my-
self. That smile was the most incredible smile of any child that had ever smiled or will ever smile
in the world or in the Universe. It was all you needed. Everything that was good was intensified
more than it was. Every joke was funnier. I don't know. There was something about being stripped
down to that rawness and basicness ....

7. Relating to the children. The co-researchers attempted to develop a connection

with the children in various ways. They described themselves as trying to empathize, to feel
what the children feel, asking "What if that were me?" or noticing that a child reminded
them of someone they knew. Co-researcher Lisa said:

I tried to get into their little bodies to feel what they were or were not feeling. There were times
when I [just] couldn't go that deep.

They perceived the children communicating with and through their eyes. Co-researcher
Lisa noted:
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 349

Their eyes did search for it [love]. How many times had they searched and not got it?; their eyes ...
their big, big eyes.

Every caregiver spoke of the children's eyes: "fifty sets of eyes"; "intelligence in her eyes";
"their big eyes staring at you." Co-researcher Krystal noted:
The eyes said so much; the eyes were asking and I couldn't respond.

The children themselves were instrumental in helping the co-researchers to be with the
situation they were experiencing. Recognizing the children's courage in the midst of their
suffering was strengthening and inspiring. There was a sense of awe at the resiliency of the
human spirit in the ability of the children to respond or simply to go on with so little.
Knowing these children was also referred to as a way of remaining sane. They were per-
ceived as giving and, at times, even taking care of the caregivers. Co-researcher Marcos said:
He helped me keep my sanity.

Co-researcher Lisa stated:

I used to think I was coming to solve their problem; they helped me.

One can hear, see, and feel how the children helped in the co-researchers' descriptions.
Co-researcher Marcos describes his relationship with the children:
I didn't think of it at the time as them being my friends, but you know, I kinda disqualified them
from being eligible to be friends, you know, the roles we had of each other, but they really were.
They helped me to deal with the situation so that I could give them something back. It was an ex-
change. I'm not sure ifit was equal. At times, they gave me more than I gave them.

Co-researcher Lisa describes her experience:

I was afraid. I felt like they were the adults and I was the kid. Because their little faces just kept
smiling and doing whatever. But they were helping me.

Co-researcher Krystal says:

The children gave and taught me [that] in all the suffering and misery we can learn something from
everyone if we take the time.

There were times when the connection with the children had a transpersonal quality.
Co-researcher Marcos describes his experience with Radu:
He was one of those kids you would go wow, this kid is so cute, I was almost stunned to look into
his eyes. I thought, what's going on here? I don't get it. This innocent look. This and it was like he
had something deep in his soul, some question .... I would take to laying down on the floor and I
put him on my chest so we were face-to-face. Initially he cried, but after a couple of moments, he'd
just get real peaceful and relax. Really tender moments. Very gentle, very gentle kid. He'd settle
down and you'd feel like the connection was there, and you could hear him. I'd hear him breathing
and he would just relax and I could feel him having some peace. And I would too. There was one
time when I was talking with him, and he just reached over and put his hand on my leg or put his
hand on my arm and I just felt this energy. This warm energy in his hand. This [boy] has ... he has
healing energy coming out of his hands. I said, "Wow." And this is between me and Radu ... .

Touch was an important part of relating to the children for many. This was especially
evident for those who expressed fear and even disgust toward the children. There would be
an important moment when physical touch would break through the barrier. As co-
researcher Jeanann says:
350 PATRICIAA. QUAllS

... the barriers were broken, even the sickening nauseating smell started to leave and magic began
to happen.

The following passage is from co-researcher Lisa, who worked in one of the most chal-
lenging rooms of the orphanage:
Alina was a little girl who had AIDS and she had open sores all over her body, open sores all over
her hands. I couldn't touch her. I couldn't touch her. She would look at me and I would feel so
ashamed that I could feel that way. I didn't know how to deal with that. How could I feel this way?
I'm still ashamed now of how I felt. I was sitting on the porch outside one day and she walked by
and rushed over, and I felt so grossed out. I remember picking her up and putting her in the corner
as far away as possible .... All of a sudden I felt this thing crawling across my lap and it was Alina.
She had crawled all the way over from the corner. She was in my lap. And I looked down and here
she is smiling at me. And I remember I started to cry. I just broke. How could I do this to her? It was
horrible. It was almost like God's spirit in her. How could I do that to her? It was then I broke and
it was really good. I just broke. I'll never forget that moment.

8. Communicating with God. Among the various transformative, even transpersonal,

experiences described throughout the protocols, there were moments of turning to God in
prayer. These prayers often asked for the grace, courage, and strength to face what was go-
ing on both internally and externally. Co-researcher Jane tells us:
I knew of only one right thing to do in those moments of intense emotional pain and that was to
pray. How many nights in the middle of the night you wake up, but then often that was when you
would just pray. There was only so much you could do, try to accomplish. It was about waking up
at 3 a.m. with the sky clear as a bell and not have any answers for what was going on around you.

Co-researcher Lisa stated:

I remember praying to God. God, please give me the strength to do it. I didn't think I was going to
be able to. All these little kids, I felt they were looking at me, and I had to save them. God, what
have I done to myself?

While God offered comfort and solace for some, others felt forsaken. Questions were
asked: "Where was God in all this?" and "Why would He allow it?" Some caregivers ex-
pressed anger at God for allowing the suffering of innocent children. Co-researcher Rachel
describes the challenge she faced:
How would a merciful and compassionate God allow such suffering? Confronted with your faith
and your beliefs, you think you're just going to take care of some babies and all of a sudden you're
confronting everything you love, who you are, and what you think ....

9. Developing ways ofcoping. As described above, there was a wide range of intense,
at times overwhelming, emotions, anger, guilt, hopelessness, fear, helplessness, frustration,
and the ever-present sadness. Some described emotions they had never felt before. Some
described the feelings as so intense that they were unbearable. During these times, there was
often a need to escape, to get out, a feeling of not being able to spend another minute there,
even of being at the edge of insanity.
At times, there was not just a desire to leave physically, but a sense of leaving one's
body, of putting up a wall and distancing. Some recognized this as an emotional defense de-
signed to protect them from really letting the suffering in. Co-researcher Lisa said:
I remember those times when I didn't feel anything for them. I was oblivious to their situation ....
It was my way of keeping my sanity.

Even that which had first been intolerable became bearable over time. Remembering
one particular visit, co-researcher Jeanann says:
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 351

I was never so happy as when I was walking away from that orphanage. I could hardly walk fast
enough back to our temporally home to throw myself on the bed and cry and cry and cry.

One means of coping was in knowing the stay was finite. Co-researcher Marcos states:
One of the ways I coped was I kept the end in sight.

Co-researcher Krystal says:

One of the ways I coped was by saying, America is not like this.

In many ways, the experience of the suffering the co-researchers encountered is still
very much with them in their lives such that they continue to cope with and integrate their
experiences from this time. Feelings of sadness are still pervasive, and pain regarding the
children and their situation continues to arise. Co-researcher Jane describes how she cur-
rently deals with these feelings:
I shut off and don't think of it unless there is something constructive to be done.

Knowing such cruelty first-hand has led the caregivers to suffering, although dif-
ferent in kind, with the children. When they allow themselves today to think of the chil-
dren, they describe and reexperience the pain. Many saw more than they ever wanted to
see; a loss of innocence occurred along with the disbelief that human beings could be
treated this way.
These feelings are currently being processed in different ways. Co-researcher Marcos
describes how he continues to cope:
My intellect is real strong, and I think it is an indication of how I've kind of steeled myself[to] the
emotions that go with what I saw there. I intellectualize it as a result of it. I'm listening to music
[music is playing in the background], sometimes, and it's like ... there's no words. I don't have any
explanation for when I feel this deep, soul level kind of sadness. And as you were reading, I wasn't
really listening. I was listening to the music, I started to well up from that sound. It speaks to the
softness and the beauty of the human soul that suffers. That music is the soul speaking. The music
is so pure. It really sets me free to let my soul feel.

10. Reality orientation: Coming to terms. At some point, the realization hits that
there is only one thing the caregivers have to give, and that is themselves. Experiencing
what was real often involved a more direct coming to terms with what could or could not be
done. The breaking down of tasks to small doable, achievable goals gave many the courage
to go on. Co-researcher Carrie states:
All we could give them was [our] attention.

Co-researcher Rachel describes the second day:

... the realization of the whole situation began to set in, ... simply all we had were children.

Following this initial realization, a number of co-researchers reported issues involving

their perspective regarding plans and actions. Co-researcher Jan states:
We started making posters; we tried to bring some color into the room ... and we started to do
classes.

Co-researcher Jane says:

I was feeling frustration with an urgency to change the situation.

Co-researcher Jeanann describes her process:

352 PATRICIAA. QUALLS

... my enthusiasm was bashed so many times over the next few days .... It was like we were do-
ing so little.... I sure didn't know ifI was even penetrating, if any of my love or ideas or anything
I came to offer was even making a difference.

Co-researcher Rachel expressed her feelings:

You think you can make a difference and when I looked at these children I knew there wasn't a
whole lot I could ever do.

Co-researcher Marcos states:

I had to override my recognition that I was singularly inadequate to meet their needs and offer what
I could. I understood that I made a valuable difference in their lives though it was far short of what
I wanted for them.

While many had thought they could save all the children, they now realized that work-
ing to save one child took all of their focus, all of their energy. A child must be able to walk
and feed himself or herself to even be allowed in a normal orphanage. When these more
concrete and attainable goals were accomplished, this accomplishment seemed to replenish
the caregivers, allowing them to carry on their work. Small changes were often experienced
as giant steps, offering some hope. It was these moments that provided some answer to the
repeatedly asked question "Why am I here?" Co-researcher Mary's words offer an inte-
grated description of these different themes related to first realizing and then coming to
terms with the hard nature of their situation:
It was like trying to save a drowning man who clawed at you and held you under the water try-
ing to climb out on top of your body. Only one of you would survive. Emotions ran wild. At first,
I was emotionally available to everyone, including the dogs on the street. Then, over the months,
I slowly began to pull away. By the end of my stay I was not even emotionally available for my-
self. And, a year and half later, in some ways I'm still not. I came as a hopeful savior and left as
a frightened child. Exhausted, defeated, and disillusioned. How can I describe my feeling of pain
and reaction to the suffering around and in me. In the beginning you don't believe what you are
seeing, smelling, and feeling. Everything is played out in some cheap surreal movie. Then, as the
sickening reality sinks in, you feel such pity and sadness for the children. Sadness for yourself.
You are that frightened child again abused by your surroundings, abandoned emotionally by your
mother, and left alone to turn inward to the only safety you know. The pain of your childhood is
multiplied a hundred times in the lives of these children. The walls you have built to protect you
from the cruel reality stand in your way now as you try to reach into the souls of these children.
You want to bring them back to themselves. This all seems really worthwhile and meaningful
when you see a smile on a once sullen face. The day four year old Costinel fed himself for the
first time, I was elated. I was high on life and hope and promises! I was renewed in this major
accomplishment.

As a synthesis and structural summation, I offer the following phenomenological psy-

chological description of the experience of being with the suffering of orphaned children
for whom one had cared:
The experience of being with the suffering of others was a developmental process for
these co-researchers. It was a humbling experience. The participants initially all had altru-
istic ideas of how they would respond to being with the suffering of others. Each participant
felt that he or she would be able to offer significant relief to the suffering Romanian or-
phaned children.
The initial contact with the suffering of others elicited shock and bewilderment. The
participants were not prepared for the sensory assault they faced. Suffering does not take
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 353

place in a vacuum; it is an interactive process between the individual and his or her imme-
diate environment. One can physically leave the scene of suffering and still emotionally feel
its presence. The experience of being with suffering seems to possess a lingering quality.
Throughout the experience of being with suffering one engages in periods of pulling
back from the suffering and then moving toward it again. Being with the experience of oth-
ers'suffering does not fit with one's picture of how people want the world to be. This expe-
rience provoked questions such as, "How and why is this happening?" There were no
humanitarian answers to these questions. This experience of being with suffering was even
more painful because it represented man's inhumanity to man. Caregivers can experience
cognitive dissonance when being with the experience of suffering. Participants found them-
selves in various uncomfortable states arising from thoughts such as, "I came to love and
care for these children, but I am also afraid and disgusted by them."
Being with the experience of suffering can challenge the previously held constructs
of a person. This experience challenged the participants' sense of the world, and some co-
researchers' faith in God. This research suggests that being with suffering in an effective
way requires moving away from the suffering. Being with suffering can drain a person of
his or her physical and psychological reserves. Moving away from the suffering allows one
to reconnect with oneself and tolerate being with the suffering person.
The experience of the co-researchers suggests that an empathic connection is crucial,
but not easy to achieve. This connection may be initiated by the one who is suffering. In this
case, the orphaned children initiated contact with the participants. The participants found
that physical touching, hugging, and playing with the children created a powerful emotional
bond. This initiation by the child and the acceptance by the co-researcher melted the
co-researcher's fear. This represents strong evidence that physical contact is a key to a rela-
tionship between the caregiver and his or her experience of being with suffering and the suf-
fering person.
This study suggests that relationships with the person suffering and one's colleagues
in the shared experience are important to everyone. Strong personal bonds, teamwork, and
a sense of community developed among the co-researchers. Findings also indicate that the
experience of being with suffering lives on with these co-researchers. Physically leaving the
immediate environment did not relieve their internal conflicts about their experience of be-
ing with suffering. Two to three years after returning from working with the suffering chil-
dren, they are still trying to make sense of their experiences.
For these participants the experience of being with suffering adds another dimension
to life. Once one has been exposed to the suffering of others it is not easy to forget. There is
a continual call to respond to the needs of those who are suffering-an ongoing internal
struggle for not doing more, and a feeling of guilt for not taking action to relieve the suf-
fering. Having been with the suffering of others elicits an expansion of one's world view
that includes the suffering of others as a harsh reality.
Each held the desire to break the secrecy around suffering and involve others in the re-
sponsibility of caring for those in need. The internal conflict of living one's own life-be-
ing present for oneself-and being present for the needs of others created a moral dilemma.
It is painful to have broken through the denial of suffering, but it may be freeing, too.
The freedom comes from confronting one's fear of suffering, breaking through one's isola-
tion, and being touched by the suffering of others.
354 PATRICIA A. QUAllS

THOUGHTS, FEELINGS, REFLECTIONS

The initial shock of the first day at the orphanage was a powerful surprise, as the co-
researchers all felt that they were prepared for anything until that first encounter. As they
went home on that first day to vent their feelings, regroup, and face the reality of the situa-
tion, the formation of a true team or community began to develop. It was clear from the be-
ginning that the support they would need in order to serve these children would have to
come primarily from each other. I remember participating many years ago in a five-day
team building exercise, a program designed to help business managers learn to work to-
gether. The "program" in Romania, however, did not end at five in the evening. Everyone
could not leave to have a nice meal, call home, check office messages, or have a drink. Ro-
mania was the real thing.
Throughout this chapter, I have referred to the co-researchers as caregivers, "care-
giver" being the official description of the position they were signing up for. Sherwood
(1992) describes caregivers' responses to the experience of suffering and what it means to
care. According to Sherwood (1992, p. 106), caring produces positive change, encourages
growth of the other, and involves both a mutual connectedness and a being present to the
other: "Our purpose as caregivers is to improve the human condition, to enable others to
live life to its fullest, and to alleviate suffering." .
Regarding the study described in this chapter, producing positive change, improving
the human condition, and encouraging growth were the exceptions, not the rule. While there
were moments of mutual connection, and even of being present, these moments represented
only brief interludes in an otherwise overwhelming situation and experience. The ideas of
enabling others to live life to its fullest and to alleviate suffering are most likely notions the
caregivers had when they first left for Romania. They believed these contributions were
possible, but soon realized this belief to be a naive dream. Over and over again, the care-
givers speak of "not making a difference" and even express the fear of "making it worse."
Their initial expectations of major change ended with the hope that they had added some-
thing, anything, to this dismal environment, that they had at least been "a drop in the
bucket" or "a single spark." As co-researcher Carrie said, "I think we all thought we would
go there and change things right away in the first week, right? Walk in there, and all of a
sudden miracles would happen. It didn't happen like that."
Given their knowledge of the extent of the children's suffering, there was guilt for not
doing or being able to do anything to reduce it. The experience had opened them wide, and
now there was no way to close that door. Existential philosophers speak of existential guilt,
the guilt of not living up to one's potential or, as Yalom (1980, p. 277) states, "[feeling]
guilty to the extent that one has failed to fulfill authentic possibility." Since they saw them-
selves as caregivers, it became a transgression of self not to take action to ease suffering
once it was known. They felt guilt not only for not fulfilling their own potential, but also for
walking away from children who already in life have little or no chance at even beginning
to fulfill their own. This self-perception of "caregiver" was challenged daily in Romania, as
well as later when they reentered American life.
Is there an answer to ease the pervasive guilt these individuals are still facing in their
lives? Perhaps. Becker (1992, p. 227) offers a perspective that addresses this very question:
Faced and accepted, existential guilt can clarity values and ground us in commitments by which we
can live with self and others in a shared world. Ultimately, it enables us to face ourselves and others
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 355

with integrity, to stand with human values we can live by, to stretch beyond the confines of our per-
sonal concerns, and to join hands with like-hearted people. Facing existential guilt transforms it
from a limitation into a strong basis for inter-human living.

What if the caregivers had been presented with information about how people respond to
such suffering? What if they had been able to read what had happened to other people who
had experienced these kinds of circumstances? Would it have mattered? Would they have
felt more prepared? Would it have seemed less of an assault on their physical and emotional
beings? As one co-researcher stated, "I guess you can't prepare for such suffering."
For this group, we will never know. I do believe, however, that anyone "back home"
who had received letters from any of these caregivers describing their experiences would
now be better prepared to face the situation they will encounter than the first individuals
who went in without such information. One person who returned from Romania after her
first visit to the orphanage stated quite frankly why she did not stay: "I could not stand the
smell." What better way to prepare than listening to the words of others who have had the
experience?
Since there was no program offered to debrief and reintegrate this particular group of
caregivers as they returned to the United States, and no ongoing support of any kind, this re-
search provided a first opportunity for some to discuss their feelings about their experiences
in Romania, thereby breaking the isolation they were feeling. For others, participating in the
research allowed them to feel as though they were continuing to do something to help these
otherwise forgotten children.
The experience of analyzing the descriptions of those who worked with me in the or-
phanages brought me into their experiences in a very deep and powerful way. In a close and
committed group, there is a very real sense of connection, even power, when another speaks
and you know you're not alone, when you realize that there are others who feel the same
way you do, or when you see that they are struggling with issues that touch your heart. As
a caregiver, I too felt these various feelings, including the often pervasive guilt about leav-
ing and not doing enough. The question "Could I have done it differently?" kept me awake
on many nights. I now see that when I had first decided to do this research, prior to leaving
for Romania, I did not realize the full implications of what I was about to do. As it turned
out, I had unknowingly committed myself to personally integrating a powerful, self-trans-
formative experience.
The beauty of this investigation was in experiencing the dance of my own emerging re-
sponses and reactions as I carefully read and worked with the co-researchers' descriptions.
I am not separate from that which I am investigating. I am a true participant in this phe-
nomenon as its meaning and form became clear. The process of bracketing, in which I ac-
knowledged my participation by observing and noting my initial expectations and feelings,
facilitated my going more deeply into the meaning mosaic. This research, in the end, pro-
vided a forum for me to work through an experience that was far more complex than I had
originally believed or imagined. In fact, at this very moment as I write the ending of this
chapter, its effects are evident. I am aware in the present of desires, fears, and hopes (i.e.,
"biases") arising as I move to write the next phrase or sentence. Let me share some of these
thoughts with you as evidence, if nothing else, of the continuing effects this whole process
is still having on my life:
I find myself wanting to write a "happy ending." Trying to sort through some way of ending this
study on an upbeat note. Is there a way to let the reader down gently, and with hope? Was there
356 PATRICIAA. QUALLS

some great spiritual transformation in the caregivers, or some great relief which resulted from what
they had set out to do? Surely, in all this data, I can find some evidence that will not leave the reader
with a heavy heart. Even as I close this chapter, another bias becomes apparent: the need to make
it better, to protect others from the truth of how difficult and exceedingly painful this experience
truly was. The experience speaks of a loss of innocence and the removal of a veil that, in the past,
kept us from acknowledging and truly feeling the suffering in the world. The truth is there is no
happy ending. There is only the endless suffering of these and other children. The only difference
is that this suffering has now been shared with you.

As I cradle my own son in my arms, I see the unknown faces of all those children who
do not have the love of even one person. I feel the pain of mothers whose children are hun-
gry in their arms. I cry for the mothers and fathers who leave their children at the doors of
an institution believing those walls have more to give their children than they do. The needs
of the world's babies overwhelm me, and I observe myself stopping these thoughts. They
are too much as I hold my own child. These children will always be with me. They are in my
heart, but, at the same time, I see that this does not nourish, hold, or protect them. My own
father, a World War II veteran who suffered his entire life from the ravages of that war, tried
to protect me from feeling the effects of this suffering. He had asked me not to go, saying
"Patricia, you will never forget; you will be forever changed." It appears that he was right.

CONCLUSION

If we are to offer support to those who suffer, then we need to deepen our under-
standing of the experience of all those involved, Perhaps because of its intense and emo-
tionally painful nature, the experience of being with suffering has not been investigated,
prior to this study, in any formal, systematic way. There is a true need for more qualitative
research from psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, and the medical professions,
from those who have the ability to listen with their hearts. This work is ultimately the work
of the soul. It is therefore through being present and listening, not through rational or ex-
perimental analysis, that these dimensions will come to be understood. In this way, phe-
nomenological research offers a way of understanding the experience of being with
suffering on its own terms.
The pain of this experience will not go away. It remains a continual reminder for those
who opened to it. In this way, opening to suffering serves us by keeping us aware of and not
separate from the suffering in the world. I will never forget arriving back in America and
reading that in my small but wealthy California community, there were an estimated 350
homeless school-age children. Romania could attribute the suffering of its children to a dic-
tator, poor economic structure, and the fact that almost everyone was poor. Did I respond to
those homeless children in my own community? No, I did not. Although the same basic
question that we asked in Romania, "How could this be happening?" also arises in our lives
here in the United States, for me, observing my own lack of response, the central question
has become: "Why do I not respond to those who suffer?" There are many factors, intra-
personal, interpersonal, and external, in need of further study regarding the nature of suf-
fering. It is obvious that suffering is all around us and that those who suffer "call" to us.
This phenomenon is complex, our response or lack of response has far-reaching conse-
quence for those who suffer, for those who care for them, and for all sentient beings.
ON BEING WITH SUFFERING 357

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Colaizzi, P. F. (1978). Psychological research as the phenomenologist views it. In R. S. Valle & M. King (Eds.),
Existential-phenomenological alternatives for psychology (pp. 48-71). New York: Oxford University Press.
Frankl, V (I959). Man s search for meaning. New York: Washington Square Press.
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Sherwood, G. (1992). The responses of caregivers to the experience of suffering. In P. 1. Starck & 1. P. McGovern
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 17

The Experience of Being with

a Dying Person
Thomas B. West

INTRODUCTION

Fifteen years ago, I sat at my aunt's bedside and held her hand as she died. This was my first
experience of being with someone at the moment of death. It was a moment of great inti-
macy. At the time, I was aware of how common an experience this was for the hospital per-
sonnel around me. Yet, I felt a sense of awe and privilege at having been able to accompany
my aunt and care for her during her last month of life, right up to the moment of her death.
Since that time, I have been with many people throughout the last days of their lives. And I
have had the privilege to be at the bedside of a number of them as they died. Caring for the
dying and being with them as they die is a common human experience. This chapter de-
scribes an existential-phenomenological study of this common human experience and the
meaningful characteristics that make it up.
Existential-phenomenological research is based on the philosophical presuppositions
concerning human nature found in the philosophical schools of both existentialism and phe-
nomenology. Kierkegaard (Bretall, 1946), in examining his own personal struggles, found
in them examples of the universal struggles of being human. Existentialists followed his
lead in looking at what is fundamental to lived human experience. HusserI (1962) also was
concerned with opening up the phenomenon of concrete lived experience in and of itself.
Heidegger (1962) investigated phenomenologically the experience of authentic human be-
ingness, which he termed Dasein. For him, an awareness of death was a fundamental aspect
of authentic beingness. Heidegger (1962, p. 354) says:

Thomas B. West • Franciscan School ofTheology, Berkeley, California 94709.

359
 360 THOMAS B. WEST

Death is not "added onto" Dasein at its 'end'; .... The nullity by which Dasein's Being is
dominated primordially through and through, is revealed to Dasein itself in authentic Being-
towards-death.

In discussing Heidegger's thoughts on death, Macquarrie (1965) points out that the
person who lives an authentic life always anticipates death and lives resolutely in the light
of this possibility. This understanding that all living is also dying allows for a fonn of tran-
scendent awareness that gives a sense of unity and meaning to life.
Existential-phenomenological research does not focus on explanations of causality,
but rather provides a descriptive structural analysis of any lived experience and thereby de-
scribes qualities of being. Johnston (1988) points out that a phenomenological investigation
of the immediacy oflived experience is one that is deeply concerned with questions related
to the meaning of life. He states that an examination of death, which represents nonbeing,
is central to such an analysis.
Heidegger (1962), seeing that an essential aspect of being human was "Being-towards-
death" (p. 354), noted that this awareness of one's own death is revealed to one through the
experience of "Being-with-Others" and experiencing their death, that is, the death of the
Other (p. 379). Being with and caring for others is essential to the nature of Dasein. Indeed,
Heidegger says that "it is as care that Dasein's totality of Being has been defined" (p 370).
Caregiving and being with the dying are very much a part of the immediacy oflived human
experience.
Herzog (1966), a Jungian psychologist, also felt that the ability to acknowledge the
presence of death in life is decisively important for authentic human living. He found that
those who have gone through the actual experience of the death of another are then able to
open themselves to a deeper aspect of "becoming" that is "the very stuff of life" (p. 9). It is
also worth noting that individuals who have themselves come close to dying, those who
have had a near-death experience or who have survived a suicide attempt, often report dra-
matic changes in how they live following this experience (Heckler, 1994; Ring, 1984, 1991;
Chapter 19 in this volume).
This chapter will discuss an existential-phenomenological study that focused on the
experience of those who have been with a dying person through the process of that person's
dying. What is this experience, inherent in the human condition, for those who have expe-
rienced it?

A REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE ON BEING WITH THE DYING

Rituals surrounding the process of dying are part of all cultures (Campbell, 1959). In
the West, institutions to care for the dying began with the spread of Christianity and can be
traced back to the second century. They were often built in connection with a Christian
church and were called Houses of God. As early as the ninth century and continuing into the
present, Christian religious orders of men and women have been fonned specifically to care
for the sick and the dying (L. Butler, 1967). A recent example is the Dominican Sisters of
St. Rose of Lima, which was founded in 1896 to care for those dying of cancer. The order
currently has six hospices in New York City. Another is Mother Teresa's Missionaries of
Charity, which was founded in India in 1948 and works primarily with the dying in hospices
the order has established there and elsewhere throughout the world.
EXPERIENCE OF BEING WITH A DYING PERSON 361

During the Middle Ages, there developed a literary genre called the ars moriendi, the
art of dying. These books were religious tracts of instruction both for those facing death and
for those who were supporting and attending them through this process. They focused on
death as a transition to etemallife. Books of this type were best-sellers in their day, even as
late as the 17th century in England (Kastenbaum & Costa, 1972). Today, we can see a re-
vival of interest in this area of books that address the spiritual aspects of dying and caring
for those who are dying (Cassidy, 1991; Kubler-Ross, 1975, 1978, 1981; Levine, 1979,
1982, 1984).
Although Mechnikov introduced the term thanatology in 1901, there was not much
scientific research in the area of death and dying until Freud postulated his theory of a death
instinct as part of his metapsycho10gy (Alexander & Adlerstein, 1960). Psychoanalysts,
however, either ignored or rejected this part of psychoanalytical theory because they could
not apply it in their clinical practice (Lifton, 1979). It was not until Eissler (1955) wrote
his seminal work, The Psychiatrist and the Dying Patient, that a psychoanalytical treatment
approach to working with a dying client was developed.
Eissler understood a dying person to be in a biological process determined by the
death instinct. He suggested that a different kind of therapeutic relationship was necessary
in such a case. Eissler called this "the gift situation" (p. 126). He advised the therapist with
such a client to be totally present to the needs and wishes of the dying person and to give
himself or herself as a gift to the dying other without charging a fee. He said that the pecu-
liar difference in psychotherapy with a dying person was the necessity of providing such a
person with an experience of love, and that the giving of oneself as a gift to the dying other
was itself an act of love. He comments that "love seems to be an antidote against the agony
of death" (p. 139). Charon (1963, 1964) found that both the existential psychology of Bin-
swanger and the existential philosophy of Marcel also saw love as the appropriate human
response to being with the dying.
Yet what Eissler advocated was a very unorthodox psychotherapeutic relationship that
even today not many professionals would willingly undertake, given its scope of involve-
ment. On the other hand, he was describing a familiar and common aspect of human rela-
tionship, that of caregiving, of attending to the needs of, comforting, and being present with
a dying person. In our society, entering into such a relationship has often been the role of
women. The final caregivers who attend to the needs of the dying, both in the family and in
hospitals and hospices, are usually female. It should not be surprising, therefore, that the
early work of psychotherapy with dying clients, as reported in the literature, was done pri-
marily by women (Joseph, 1962; Norton, 1963; Rosenthal, 1983).
Joseph (1962) had not read Eissler's book when her client, Alice, developed cancer.
However, she adjusted their therapeutic relationship according to Alice's needs. In doing so,
she felt that she was not being a good analyst because she was acting in a manner that was
too emotional and subjective, and yet she states that she could not have acted differently un-
der the circumstances (p. 27). She began to visit Alice at home, bringing her flowers, hold-
ing her hand, stroking her hair, and comforting her. Joseph made herself available at all
times and did not charge a fee for being with Alice in this way. Later, she attended Alice's
funeral and commiserated with her family on their loss. In retrospect, Eissler's work on be-
ing with the dying gave Joseph a sense of relief in regard to her own professional behavior.
It enabled her to gain a consistent psychotherapeutic interpretation for all aspects of her re-
lationship with Alice.
 362 THOMAS B. WEST

Norton (1963) noticed how reluctant therapists and even medical personnel are to
build a relationship with a dying person. She comments that in such a relationship, the pro-
fessional involved must be willing to be constantly available, empathetic, and appropriately
responsive to the dying person's needs (p. 559).
Eissler (1955) noted how emotionally difficult it was to do this kind of work with the
dying. Renneker (1957) examined the countertransference reactions of therapists working
with cancer patients. He noted a cycle of reactions that began with a wish to terminate treat-
ment and to avoid the client, followed by feelings of guilt and shame, which in turn were
covered over by a reaction-formation of seeing oneself as the Good Samaritan. He de-
scribed the narcissistic investment these therapists had in their clients' health and the sub-
sequent threat to their feelings of omnipotence when their client's disease progressed and
became terminal.
Burton (1962) also commented on the reluctance of therapists to work with the dying
because of their own fear of death. He found that the major countertransference defenses
such therapists used were denial, displacement, and compensation. Clarke's (1981) 20-year
follow up study on Burton's research had very similar results. Feifel (1969) found a ten-
dency in all health professionals to withdraw from dying patients because of their own is-
sues about death and its threat to their professional narcissism. Weisman and Hackett
(1961) said that professionals would rationalize in a defensive manner their own behavior
in pulling away from a dying person. In such situations, they would note a retraction of li-
bidinal interest and a turning away from others by the person in the dying process. It was ac-
tually the professional, however, who first began to withdraw from the patient (p. 251).
Although it can be, and often is, very difficult to be with a dying person, it can also be
highly rewarding. Like Joseph (1962), Sadowy (1991) felt her way in her therapeutic work
with her dying client, Dee. She too adjusted her boundaries so she could be totally present
and available to Dee's needs. She comments that in empathetically being present to Dee, she
was able to "enter a living vibrant internal reality" (p. 197), and that ultimately Dee helped
her to differentiate her own spiritual values. Robbins (1989) also comments on the aspect of
spirituality that becomes part of the psychotherapeutic work of being with a dying client. He
recognizes to do so is to cross a boundary line as a therapist, but asks (p. 283):

If we do believe that death is but one more transition to another level of consciousness, then join-
ing our patients in this "no boundary" level of existence may be a choice for every therapist to
make.

Feifel (1990) described the need of a new ars moriendi that would help the dying
come to a more "human death" (p. 540). Such a treatment model must speak to the soul
and have a spiritual dimension as well as a biological and behavioral one. For him, this
meant that the dying need the support and presence of those who represent "psychological
security" for them. It is their support, their sustaining presence and ability and willingness
to communicate with the dying, that eases and facilitates the dying process. Feifel implied
that it was the dying who would choose the support people whom they wanted to be with
during this time.
In a similar way, Weisman (1977) saw the need of someone "skilled in human interac-
tions" to work with a dying person to facilitate an "appropriate death" (p. 119). He de-
scribed this as a collaborative relationship and not one that was primarily professional in
nature. Such a caregiver would be there to support and guide the patient through the dying
EXPERIENCE OF BEING WITH A DYING PERSON 363

process, providing an experience of a "safe conduct" or passage "through peril and the un-
known" (p. 116).
In an effort to distinguish this type of relationship from that of psychotherapy, Feigen-
berg and Shneidman (1979) called it clinical thanatology. In their model, it is the dying per-
son who chooses who will fill this supportive role. Such a caregiver does not need
professional credentials, but must be familiar with the dying process and have empathy and
self-awareness. The relationship this caregiver undertakes is a committed one that lasts un-
til the client dies. The aim of such a relationship is to support and help the dying person in
any way possible.
As early as 1962, Burton (1962) noted a shift in psychotherapists' approach to working
with dying clients from that of a privileged professional position to one that was more a "true
encounter" between equals in an "I-Thou" relationship (p. 18). Perhaps no one exemplifies
this attitude better than Elizabeth Kubler-Ross (1969, 1970, 1975, 1978, 1981 1983) in her
extensive work and research with the dying. She says (Kubler-Ross, 1970, p. 165):
Counseling the dying is one of the most intense, most personal, the most intimate kind of encounter
between two human beings .... It is a listening to-and at times sharing-the innermost feelings
and concerns, without layers and layers of trimmings around it. ... There is no other counseling
with any other type of patient where it is so important to take off one's professional white coat and
just be a human being. Those who have experienced such moments will agree with me that work-
ing with dying patients is not depressing at all and can be an instructive, gratifying, and at times
even beautiful experience.

R. N. Butler (1991), a physician, noted the continuing need for a "comprehensive ther-
apeutic approach to dying" (p. 11). He wondered (p. 12):
Considering the critical place that dying and death play in all our lives, especially in medical prac-
tice, it is surprising that there are few studies concerning the various dimensions of dying. There
are few direct in-depth studies of the inner experience and immediate conditions in which people
die and perhaps fewer still of the thoughts, feelings and practices of physicians.

Of course, Kubler-Ross (1969, 1970, 1975, 1978, 1981, 1983), in her books and with
her Life, Death, and Transition workshops, has been directly addressing these needs in a
nonacademic manner for 30 years. She emphasizes the spiritual needs of both the dying and
those who care for them. Mother Teresa (1975 ) also understands the dying process to be a
spiritually significant time both for persons who are dying and for those who are with them.
Therefore, she reminds her sisters to always be grateful to God for the spiritual privilege of
caring for the dying. The books of Stephen Levine (1979, 1982, 1984, 1987) and the work-
shops he gives with his wife, Ondrea, also address, in a spiritual way, the inner experience
and immediate conditions of both the dying and those who are supporting them through this
process. Levine has been influenced by the spiritual teachings of Ram Dass (Ram Dass &
Gorman, 1985) and his work with the dying. Valle (1996) describes the relationship be-
tween caregivers and the dying as a "spiritually auspicious time" for both, and says (p. 3):
Serving others selflessly in life and surrendering one's self-identity as a unique body and person-
ality in death are, therefore, two manifestations of the same process-spiritual awakening.

Two recent phenomenological psychology research projects addressed the need Butler
raised to examine the inner experience of dying. Stephen (1987) investigated Weisman's con-
cept of an appropriate death by interviewing 12 terminally ill hospice patients. She felt that
what constitutes an appropriate death is a notion best understood from the dying individual's
364 THOMAS B. WEST

point of view. And Ross (1987) investigated the phenomenon of death directly by engaging
26 people in an open-ended discussion of death. His study describes the phenomenon of
death from the individual's experience. He analyzed his data henneneutically.
It was to fulfill the further need for investigating the inner experience of a caregiver
who is with a dying person as that person goes through the dying process that the study re-
ported in this chapter was undertaken.

INVESTIGATING THE COMMON EXPERIENCE OF BEING WITH THE DYING

I began my existential-phenomenological research project by reflecting on my own

experience of being invited to be with a dying person throughout that person's dying
process. Colaizzi (1973) calls this initial procedure individual phenomenological reflection.
Through it, I tried to identify my own preconceived notions about this experience before en-
gaging co-researchers in my investigation. This process of bracketing my own presupposi-
tions helped me to listen more carefully and understand more clearly my co-researchers'
experience as they described it to me.
The results of my study were co-constituted by myself and my co-researchers. who
shared with me their experience of being invited to be with a dying person. Because this
process involved both their lived experience and my reflection and analysis of that experi-
ence, we did this work together. They are therefore truly co-researchers. After meeting with
each of them, ten in all, and explaining my research interest and intent, I asked each one to
respond in writing to the following request:
Please describe for me as completely as you can your experience of being with a dying person, who
was aware of being in the dying process, and who had asked you to be with him or her as he or she
went through this process.

Having collected their written replies (protocols) and having reviewed each co-
researcher's written response until I was totally familiar with it, I would arrange for an in-
dividual face-to-face follow-up walk-through interview. During this walk-through inter-
view, I would slowly read back to my co-researcher his or her protocol. This step was
included in order to allow each co-researcher the opportunity to make any corrections or
additions. After this step, the tape recording of the walk-through interview was transcribed.
The subsequent transcripts of my ten co-researchers, their original written responses plus
whatever else was added in the walk-through interview, constituted the data that I analyzed
using an existential-phenomenological method first developed by Giorgi (1975) and later
elaborated on by Colaizzi (1978) and Elite (see Chapter 14 in this volume). The following
is a summary of the steps used in this analysis process:
1. All the protocols were read and reread in order to get the sense and feel of the
whole.
2. In each protocol, all sentences, phrases, or statements that referred to the experi-
ence being investigated were extracted to fonn a list of meaning units from that
protocol.
3. The meaning units of each protocol were sorted into theme clusters, within each
protocol.
EXPERIENCE OF BEING WITH A DYING PERSON 365

4. The theme clusters from each protocol were then combined across all protocols to
form a list of38 overall constituent themes. During this process, the everyday lan-
guage of the theme clusters was translated into psychologically coherent expres-
sions used to describe the constituent themes.
5. Through integration, the overall constituent themes were reduced to 24 compre-
hensive constituent themes.
6. Further integration of these comprehensive constituent themes resulted in the list of
the 14 final comprehensive constituent themes.
7. An exhaustive description of these 14 final comprehensive constituent themes was
then written.
8. Disciplined reflection upon this description resulted in the statement of the funda-
mental structure of the experience.

WHAT THE INVESTIGATION OF THIS EXPERIENCE SHOWED

The co-researchers' protocols described, in depth and with intensity, their profoundly
human experience of being with a dying person. For all of them, it had been an experience
that was both painful and rewarding. Their experience was essentially one of loss through
which many of them also felt enriched. The analysis of their data produced the following 14
final comprehensive constituent themes:
1. An explanation and personal description of the relationship and the invitation.
2. Anticipatory grieving: the process of denial and acceptance.
3. Painful, conflicted, and confused emotional states.
4. The course of the illness.
5. Remembering others who have died.
6. The role of family and friends.
7. Feeling a strong connection with the other.
8. Putting oneself aside to care for the other.
9. Humor: the energy oflightness.
10. The experience of gift and gratitude.
11. Spirituality, prayer, and religious ritual.
12. The dying hour.
13. The experience of grief and mourning.
14. Learning from the experience and feeling changed by it.
The results of this study, as indicated in these final comprehensive constituent themes,
show that the experience of being with a dying person is, first of all, one of relationship. It
is from this place of being in a relationship that the invitation to be with the other arises.
This was true for all ten co-researchers: Alina, Catherine, Curt, Dick, Gregg, Jeannie, Mary,
Michael, Michael Mary, and Regan. As Dick remembered:
It was early summer of 1989, ... when Steven asked me to walk this journey with him and beyond.
He asked if I could see it all the way through and preside at his Celebration of Life ceremony....
The fabric of this journey is woven of many threads. There is friendship, love, suffering, courage,
perseverance, hope and trust. These are not unusual threads for these kinds of journeys, but they are
woven very uniquely in this one for me.
366 THOMAS B. WEST

It is also an experience of anticipatory grieving. This process of grieving in advance

begins in a place of emotional denial. The reality of the death to come is avoided or its im-
pact is minimized. Gradually, this denial gives way to a place of acceptance. Throughout
this process, the caregivers experience a wide variety of painful, confused, and conflicted
emotional states. Among these are feelings of anger, guilt, fear, and anxiety. Jeannie re-
flected about this time in this way:
I was very confused. I wanted to be with him, but I didn't want to upset him by being there and
showing a disregard of his feelings .... It was probably my most trying time with him. I didn't un-
derstand what he was going through. I was besieged by emotions that I'd never dealt with before.
The emotions I felt, I still can't even put into words. It was almost like not knowing where do I
turn? What do I do? How do I help? How do I stay out of the way? What do I do?

The experience of being with someone who is dying is one of being with them through
the course of their illness. This means being with them during times of pain, suffering, and
distress. It is necessarily an experience of being with another who is progressively getting
sicker and more debilitated. It is a very trying experience, as Mary attests:
At one very critical time, I stayed in the hospital for seven nights. I took care of my husband dur-
ing the night. He was in agony. This was the hardest time for me .... He was in absolute misery.
Absolute misery. And I was, too. We were both suffering a lot right at that point.

Such caregiving also evokes memories of having been with others who have died. It is,
as well, an experience of being with others and forming a sense of community around the
dying person. This community is made up of family, friends, and other support-givers.
The caregivers develop a strong emotional connection to the dying other that is often
expressed by physical touching. Accompanying this connection is a willingness and ef-
fort on the part of the caregivers to put their own needs aside in order to care for the dying
other. This selflessness is often spoken of as an expression of love for the other. Alina de-
scribes this:
I experienced myself as setting aside my emotions with regard to Richard and his illness in order to
be present for him in another way. I felt myself stripping off any emotion that Richard could expe-
rience as emotional need, any thought or impulse that might draw one drop from Richard's inner re-
sources, which he needed all for himself. ... That was how I experienced myself then, a friend not
detached but taking on detachment as a favor to a friend, gently but firmly laying my immediate
emotions aside for a different kind of love .... I see all the complex subterfuge that went into that
supposedly simple laying aside. It was loving subterfuge....

Unexpected moments of humor shared with others during the dying process are like-
wise a constituent of the experience. Catherine found insight into the naturalness of dying
when her friend's dying request was received in wonder, joy, and mirth by her family and
friends. She remembers:
The air was still and sacred. And then we laughed. Cathy broke the silence with an almost inaudible re-
quest for a new flavor of popsicJe.... Her parents and I looked at each other in delight ... we've talked
about it since that time ... it was like Cathy played a joke on us with our incredible seriousness about
death, so that suddenly things became beautiful in a new way.... It was like dying is not just about seri-
ous profundity and trying to be so perfect. It's just about laughing too and wonder....

Many co-researchers describe their relationship through this time in terms of a gift
they have received from being able to be with the other in this process. A strong sense of
gratitude and appreciation for having been part of this experience with the dying other is a
common response. Michael said:
EXPERIENCE OF BEING WITH A DYING PERSON 367

I could let go and say good-bye, and also say thank you, with a tremendous, deep abiding sense of
gratitude. That's just what gratitude is basically-it's the ability to be present to the love that's there.

Another aspect is a sharing in prayer and religious ritual, both during the course of the
illness and after the death of the other. The caregivers felt their whole experience was a spir-
itually significant time in their lives. Remembering his friend before his death, Dick said:
... he really afforded me the opportunity to see God in even broader ways than I've ever experi-
encedGod....

Later, discussing his friend's funeral service, he said:

It was just amazing to look out at that group of people congregated there.... I never felt so em-
powered by the experience of the people I was experiencing this with ... we loved and had been
loved.... We sought understanding in his death.... We were reduced to that base we call Faith.
Several of us had been chosen to make this journey with him. I, for one, have a new understanding
of healing. Healing is what happens in the soul, the innermost part of our existence, when we sur-
render to the love of God....

There is a recognized terminal phase in the process of dying, a dying hour, that is an
important part of the caregiver's experience. It includes final communications, the behavior
of the dying other and those present at the moment of death, and the memory of either be-
ing there or of receiving the announcement of the death from others after it occurred. Here
is how Gregg described the moment of his friend's death:
Sam continued to breathe intermittently until just after midnight, when he took a single last breath.
This time we could see that the color had drained from his face, and within a couple of minutes
were sure that he was dead. I held him a while longer, remembering the last two years and espe-
cially the last two months, saying good-bye to him inside.

There is a time of postmortem grief and mourning that is shared with others, usually
with the help of rituals. And there is the sense, after having come through this process, of
having learned from it and of being changed by the experience. Jeannie said of her brother's
death:
He carved a path for me with his death. I think until we understand perhaps what life is about, we're
fearful of death, and I think I understand that now. I certainly am not frightened of death at all. I tell
you, I love life. I am very much like my brother. I love living-even the sad times of life. But there
are times I think that death will also be welcomed, and there is no fear in it for me at all. There's
none at all.

From the analysis of this data, a final summary of this unique human experience can
be stated in this way:
The fundamental form or structural definition of the experience of being with a dying
person, who was aware of being in the dying process, and who had asked for your company
through this process, is essentially one of relationship. It is within the context of this rela-
tionship that the agreement to accompany the other through death arises. The experience
of being with the dying other is also characterized both by feeling a strong connection with
the other and by a sense of putting oneself aside in order to care for the other. It is an expe-
rience of anticipating loss and of grieving that loss in advance, and of feeling painful, con-
fused, and conflicted emotional states. It is an experience of being with the dying other
through the course of the other's illness and of remembering other people who have died. It
is an experience of being close to or present with the dying other for the other's dying hour
and, after it, of experiencing postmortem grief and sharing in mourning rituals. It is an
 368 THOMAS B. WEST

experience shared with family, friends, and other support caregivers It is often characterized
by moments of humor and feelings of gratitude. It is, likewise, an experience of receiving
gifts, of learning about oneself, about life, and about death, and feeling changed by all of
this. It is also experienced as a spiritually significant time, involving both individual and
collective prayer and religious ritual.

CONCLUSION

This study supported Eissler's (1955) insight that to be with and helpful to people who
are in the dying process, it is essential to give them an experience of love. For the co-
researchers in this study, doing so was a mutually shared gift, one they gave as well as re-
ceived. And through receiving it, they were changed. They came to a more profound under-
standing of life and of themselves. Carse (1980) sees the most fundamental aspect of being
human as being embedded in a "web of interconnectedness with other persons" (p. 4). It is
death that reveals to us the paradox central to our reciprocal relationships. Carse says (p. 5):
A personal relationship does not exist until we respond to others .... What death reveals therefore
is something of a paradox: we have our life from others, but only to the degree that we freely par-
ticipate in our relationship to those other persons . .. our life is not our own in the sense that it be-
longs exclusively to us; however, it becomes our own to the degree that we share it, make a gift of
it to others.

A major theme in the co-researchers' experience was also gratitude for being able to
share this experience with a community of others drawn together as caregivers. Bartlett
(1972) notes that the crisis of grieving the death of a loved one can break the pattern of iso-
lation in our lives and force us to come close to one another. Experiencing community in
this way can bring a sense of serenity and peace with the knowledge that we belong to one
another.
Benjamin (1988) and Surrey (1991) see the human condition as essentially one of in-
tersubjectivity. In this way, they join the feminist critique of Western psychology's ideal of
autonomy. Since we are always in relationship, a sense of mutuality is the most common hu-
man experience. Surrey (1991) talks about a continuous sense of relationship in life and
says (p. 61):
By relationship I mean an experience of emotional and cognitive intersubjectivity: the on-going, in-
trinsic inner awareness and responsiveness to the continuous existence of the other or others and the
expectation of mutuality in this regard.

In a like manner, Kunkel (1962) believes that there is a oneness that underlies and in-
forms all human experience. He calls it the "we-experience" (p. 44). He sees it as the es-
sential human reality that is at the root of all the sciences, including psychology. The
co-researchers all felt a strong fundamental and spiritual connection with their dying com-
panion. Their experience of connectedness and of community supports this interconnected
view of human nature.
Aries (1981) ends his historical survey of Western cultural attitudes toward death with
a criticism of our contemporary society and our avoidance of death and neglect of the dy-
ing. Science and medical technology have depersonalized the dying process. He points to a
breakdown in the sense of community in our society that has interfered with our ability to
EXPERIENCE OF BEING WITH A DYING PERSON 369

mourn. People are less and less involved when someone dies because there is not a suffi-
cient sense of mutual solidarity, a feeling of being a community. Instead, we have become
"an enormous mass of atomized individuals" and, as such, we are a society that both de-
nies and is ashamed of death (p. 613).
This loss of caring for each other, especially at the time of death, is a loss of shared hu-
manity. Heidegger (1962) saw caring for the other as an essential aspect of being human. As
we lose a sense of ourselves as belonging to each other, and being responsible for each other
in community, we become less human because we lose a spiritual awareness of ourselves.
Mother Teresa, in an address she gave at the College of Marin, commented that the United
States is the poorest country she has ever visited because we are the most spiritually destitute.
Kubler-Ross (1975) also sees this loss of community involvement with the dying as a
symptom of our society's spiritual death. In our avoidance of death and those who are dying,
we hide from experiencing the fullness of our own life. For her, death is the key to the door of
life. The emptiness and sense of purposelessness seen in our contemporary Western culture
are the result of our denial of death. And for Kubler-Ross, the denial of death is a major prob-
lem for all of human evolution and the ultimate survival of our race. She says (p. 165):
Humankind will survive only through the commitment and involvement of individuals in their own
and others' growth and development as human beings. This means the development of loving and
caring relationships in which all members are as committed to the growth and happiness of the oth-
ers as they are to their own. Through [this] commitment ... individual human beings will also make
their contribution to the growth and development-the evolution--of the whole species to become
all that humankind can and is meant to be. Death is the key to that evolution. For only when we un-
derstand the real meaning of death to human existence will we have the courage to become what we
are destined to be.
There are many responses today to Feifel's (1990) call for evolving a new ars
moriendi, one that would emphasize the whole human condition and would care for both
the body and the soul. We can see this in the work of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and those who
have been inspired by her, as well as in the work of Mother Teresa and her Missionaries of
Charity, and in that of Stephen and Ondrea Levine, and of Ram Dass, and of Valle, to name
but a few. These and others who participate in the difficult task of being with and caring for
the dying are helping, not just the dying individual alone, but themselves and all of our so-
ciety. Such caregivers are witnessing the truth of our inherent mutual and spiritual inter-
connectedness. Their experience affirms the core human value of relationships and the need
we all have for communities of mutual support, especially in helping the dying.
As a Franciscan Friar, I am encouraged by the many ways working with the dying is
ministering to the building up of an awareness of our mutual spiritual interconnectedness.
Eight hundred years ago, as he was dying, St. Francis joked with his friends and invited
them to rejoice with him at the approach of "Sister Death," whom he prais~d, along with
all of creation, in his song the "Canticle of Creatures" (Fortini, 1981, p. 601).
Commenting on this song, Doyle (1981, p. 40) notes that St. Francis " ... revealed that
all beings are held in unity through a vast and intricate network of love relationships."
Boff (1989) points out the responsibility for modem humanity that is inherent in St.
Francis' cosmic vision of the mutual interdependence of all creation. He says that we have
forgotten that at our deepest level (pp. 46, 95):
We do not simply live in the world, we co-live.... We cannot achieve our identity while denying a
friendly and fraternal relationship with our natural world ... a right understanding of the basic
structure of humanity, to-be-in-the-world-with-all-things ... in a cosmic democracy ... one must
 370 THOMAS B. WEST

live fraternally with the birds, fire, water, the lark, the wolf, the worm on the road, treating all with
respect and devotion, gentleness and compassion. We all belong mutually to one another....

Part of this interconnectedness of all life is the process of dying. Death is a reality that
we are always living with. Being with and caring for another person who is dying is a fun-
damental human experience. This study has examined the impact such an experience has on
the individual caregiver involved in that process. It is hoped that this research will add to
our understanding of death and the dying process and thus contribute to our shared task of
human development.

REFERENCES

Alexander, 1., & Adlerstein, A. (1960). Studies in the psychology of death. In H. David & 1. Brengelmann (Eds.),
Perspectives in personality research (pp. 65-92). New York: Springer Publishing.
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 18

The Experience of Feeling Grace

in Voluntary Service to
the Terminally III
Paul Gowack and Valerie A. Valle

But Grace is there all along.

Grace is the Self
It is not something to be acquired.
All that is necessary is to recognize its existence.
-Sri Ramana Maharshi (1988)

There exist in many cultures some powerful and distinct human experiences we have little
scientific understanding of. One such experience is the experience of feeling grace. In this
chapter, the nature of the experience of feeling grace in voluntary service to the dying is ex-
plored from a phenomenological perspective. Twelve individuals who described themselves
as having experienced grace while working with the dying were interviewed, their descrip-
tions were analyzed, and seven constituent themes were identified. The relationship of these
themes to previous writings on the nature of grace is then explored.

THE NATURE OF GRACE

Throughout history, from multiple cultures at various times, human beings have spo-
ken of positive experiences that appear to have emanated from beyond themselves. In the

Paul Gowack • 1339 Milvia Street, Berkeley, California 94709. Valerie A. Valle • St. Alban's Epis-
copal Church, Brentwood, California 94513.

373
374 PAUL GOWACK AND VALERIE A. VAllE

West, these have been called experiences of grace. The word grace is the anglicized form of
the Latin gratia, a translation of the Greek charis, whence comes the word "charisma." In
ordinary Greek usage, it meant "gracefulness," "charm," "favor," or "kindness," especially
when it was favor and kindness shown without obligation, as by a superior to an inferior
(Watson, 1959). As the word has come to be understood in religious usage, it refers to "an
influence emanating from God and acting for the spiritual well-being of the recipient"
(Gove, 1966).
Self-described experiences of grace often have a life-transforming effect on the indi-
vidual, yet they have rarely been systematically studied by either religious systems or mod-
em psychology. A review of the literature related to the experience of grace follows.

Religious Perspectives on Grace

The concept of grace suffuses the Hebrew scriptures and the Christian New Testament.
God is seen as showering favor upon the people of God, and the people, who are filled with
grace, do gracious deeds by showing kindness to the poor or generosity to all living things.
Christian theologians filled volumes with definitions and classifications for grace, yet lit-
tle has been said about the nature of the experience of grace.
The Christian understanding of the concept of grace was first systematically devel-
oped by St. Paul. He saw God's grace as the gift of preserving, loving, purposeful generos-
ity that becomes visible in a climatic way in the life, teaching, and resurrection of Jesus
(Fransen, 1965).
St. Augustine wrote in Confessions (Liderbach, 1983) that individuals may be able to
free themselves from entrapments and turn to God, but humans are wholly dependent upon
God for such conversions. To Augustine, the human species is born into sin, and the only re-
lease from this condition is through the help of God. Such freedom comes exclusively as a
consequence of the love or grace of God. The person who has received grace receives as
well the gift of God dwelling within the person, the ability to love other persons, and the
will to do virtuous acts (Liderbach, 1983).
St. Thomas Aquinas wrote an analysis of grace in Summa Theologiae (Dreyer, 1990).
His basic premise is that grace is primarily the gratuitous gift of God, given out of the abun-
dance of God's merciful love. Grace within a person is the outcome of God's mercy, and
God alone is the cause. Through grace are given the gifts of love, wisdom, and understand-
ing for our enjoyment.
In Hinduism, specifically Vedanta, divine grace is ever abundant (Frenz, 1975). Lord
Krishna declares in the Bhagavad Gila (9:29) (Vedakkekara, 1981): "I am the same to all
beings. To Me there is none hateful, none dear." God is seen as all-merciful with infinite
generosity, making no distinctions and blessing human beings with liberation. Grace show-
ers over all equally, but according to Hinduism, one has to rise to avail oneself of it. To the
extent one surrenders the self, one enjoys the experience of achieving peace of mind, tran-
quility, and the grace of God (prasada). This self-surrender is the culmination of all yoga.
Sri Aurobindo (1989) writes that in the spiritual knowledge of self, there are three
parts of the one knowledge. The first is the discovery of the soul, the divine element within
us. When we are consciously aware of the soul, we become aware of a guide within that
knows the truth, the good, the true delight and beauty of existence. The next step is to be-
come aware of the eternal self in us, unborn and one with the self of all beings. The third
FEELING GRACE IN SERVICE TO TERMINALLY ILL 375

step is to know the divine being who is at once our supreme transcendent self, the cosmic
being, and the foundation of our universality.
When we are in contact with our divine consciousness, writes The Mother (1972),
everything is tinged with grace and presence, and things that usually seem dull and unin-
teresting become charming, pleasant, and attractive. When opened to the self, one feels
stronger, freer, happier, and full of energy, and everything has meaning.

Psychology and Grace

William James (1977) was the first psychologist to speak of the individual as having a
"personal identity" as well as a "spiritual me," the personal identity being the ego and the
spiritual identity being one's entire collection of states of consciousness. According to James,
we pass into mystical states from out of ordinary consciousness, as from a less into a more,
as from a smallness into a vastness, and from an unrest to a rest. These experiences are felt
as reconciling and unifying states that may render the soul more energetic and inspired. The
effect of the religious experience is somehow to unify the discord within the self.
Meissner (1984), a Catholic priest and psychiatrist, writes that understanding the
depth's of one's spiritual nature is the work of a psychology of grace and that a meaningful
psychology of grace would help the modem individual realize the relationship of the spiri-
tuallife to psychological development and maturity. Meissner uses St. Augustine's basic
premise of the nature of grace, which equates grace with divine favor and love, and asserts
that in grace, it is God who begins, God who works, and God who finishes.
Meissner (1987) believes that grace works in and through the resources of the ego. Its
influence is maintained in the vital capacity of the ego to perform its proper and autonomous
functions. In this framework, therefore, grace can be regarded as a dynamizing activation of
the energy resources latent within the ego. Grace does not force the ego to act, nor does it re-
place the ego's proper function with a divine activity; rather, its healing effect is to enable the
ego to mobilize its own latent resources and direct them to purposeful action.
Meissner contends that our capacity to relate to God as an object is related to our ca-
pacity to relate to other human beings as objects. The limitations on our ability to relate to
humans limit our ability to relate to God; therefore, the capacity to fully enter into a rela-
tionship with the divine must be given as a special gift coming from God's loving initia-
tive. As our ego develops in its ability to relate to others, however, its response to God's
grace becomes more spontaneous and complete. It is only with the development of ego-au-
tonomy that results from a high level of inner development that we can fully respond to the
divine. Love of God implies complete surrender, and surrendering is an act of unrestrained
autonomy; it is also how we achieve the highest expression of our freedom.
Psychologist A. H. Almaas uses object relations theory to understand grace. Accord-
ing to Almaas (1986), the personality is false while essence represents the real person, the
real and true self, the spirit. He sees our ego identity as masking our true self by taking the
place of essence in our personality. This false self develops through the organization of
the individual's early experience from smaller units into larger more comprehensive ones
concurrently with the development of object representation.
Almaas (1988) contends that for the realization of essence, the fIrst step is to disiden-
tify, to see that we are not whatever self-image we have. This lessening of identification
loosens the rigid structure of the personality and creates more space within us. The final
376 PAUL GOWACK AND VALERIE A. VALLE

process of disidentification is the experience of the dissolution of the psychic structure of

the self-image and the experience of space or what is called the void (Almaas, 1986).
When self-image is dissolved, the individual will experience the loss of boundaries, both
physical and mental, and the nature of the mind is then revealed as an emptiness, a void,
an immaculate empty space. Through this experience, essence emerges as the source, the
life, and the fullness of our being. When essence is reached, it begins the process of free-
ing itselffrom the personality (Almaas, 1984). The consciousness or awareness of the in-
dividual begins to develop, and one becomes more sensitive and aware of emotions and
feelings. Almaas believes the essence is reached through the practice of meditation and
service. Service without regard to boundaries of self and others is seen as necessary for re-
alization and development.
Maslow (1971) also explores what it means to be a whole and psychologically healthy
person. He sees the "fully-human" or self-actualized individual as one who devotes his or
her life to the search for ultimate values. For Maslow, self-actualization implies being able
to see the sacred, the eternal, the symbolic in the world. Self-love, self-worth, and positive
self-regard are also essential components of the self-actualizing process.
Solimar (1986) also stresses the importance of self-love. She writes that the necessary
factor in establishing a mature and genuine capacity to relate to others is through self-love.
She describes self-love as "an emotional embodied experience of well-being, gladness, self-
confident motivation, and unconditional acceptance and validation of self, other, and life; it
is an experience of greater inner potential and wholeness based on an expanded sense of
self-identity" (p. 115). Those individuals who are self-loving are more loving and connected
with friends, family, and humanity as a whole.
Maslow (1964) writes that peak experiences are transient moments of self-actualizing.
The concept of peak experience is similar to what theologians describe as the experience of
grace, yet peak experiences can be secular, religious, mystical, or transcendent and are not
necessarily dependent on churches or specific religions, nor do they necessarily imply the
supernatural. Maslow believed that they are well within the realm of nature. Peak experi-
ences (Maslow, 1962) can be varied, yet contain common characteristics. During peak ex-
periences, the whole universe is often perceived as an integrated and unified whole, while
visual perception, hearing, and feelings are described as most true and complete. Often
there is a disorientation in time and space, including the experience of both universality and
eternity. Perception can be relatively ego-transcending, self-forgetful, and unselfish. The
peak experience is felt as a self-validating, self-justifying moment that carries its own in-
trinsic value. The world is seen as good, desirable, worthwhile, beautiful, and sacred.
The spontaneous mystical experience is in many ways similar to the peak experience.
Pahnke and Richards (1973), through a historical survey of the literature on spontaneous
mystical experience, derived the following nine interrelated categories that attempt to de-
scribe the core of that experience:
1. Unity: The experience of an undifferentiated unity, either internal or external, is
the hallmark of mystical consciousness.
2. Objectivity and reality: This second category has two elements: (a) insightful
knowledge that is felt at an intuitive, nonrationallevel and gained by direct experi-
ence and (b) the feeling of certainty that such knowledge is ultimately real in con-
trast to the feeling that the experience is a subjective illusion.
FEELING GRACE IN SERVICE TO TERMINALLY ILL 377

3. Transcendence of space and time: This refers to the loss of a person's orientation
as to where he or she is during the experience and the radical change in his or her
perspective during which the individual may feel outside of time.
4. Sense of sacredness: An acute awareness of finitude is reported, as though one had
stood before the infinite in profound humility.
5. Deeply felt positive mood: Feelings of joy, love, blessedness, and peace are inher-
ent in this experience.
6. Paradoxicality: Significant aspects of mystical consciousness are felt to be true
even though they violate the laws of Aristotelian logic.
7. Alleged ineffability: One who tries to communicate about mystical consciousness
often claims that the available linguistic symbols are inadequate to contain or even
begin to reflect the experience.
8. Transiency: This refers to the temporary duration of the experience and is an im-
portant difference between mystical awareness and psychosis.
9. Positive changes in attitude and/or behavior: People with such experiences tend to
report changes in attitudes toward themselves, toward others, toward life, and to-
ward mystical consciousness itself.
Even though these categories came from a review of the literature on mystical experi-
ence, the authors did not personally study individuals who had had such experiences. Phe-
nomenological research provides the opportunity to investigate any meaningful experience
systematically and directly. A study by Elite (1993) (see Chapter 14 in this volume) inves-
tigated the experience of individuals who were voluntarily silent for a period of four or
more days. In some ways, the experiences they described had a similarity with the peak ex-
periences described by Maslow and the core categories of mystical experience described by
Pahnke and Richards. Elite found the following nine constituent themes:
1. Experiencing the essence of one's being.
2. Experiencing one's inner life with a heightened sense of awareness.
3. Experiencing more acutely through the senses.
4. Experiencing auditory, visual, perceptual, and/or other sensory alterations.
5. Feeling connected and/or unified with various aspects of existence.
6. Feeling intensely a wide range of feelings and emotions.
7. Feeling rejuvenated.
8. Perceiving a change in the ontological meaning and/or significance of ideas and the
nature of personal reality.
9. Perceiving the experience as ineffable.

The Power of Service

In many religious traditions, charitable service to one's fellow human beings is con-
sidered the most perfect form of devotion to the divine. Christ is quoted as saying "Truly I
tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you
did it to me" (Matthew 25:40) as a call to serve those who have less then we do (Boff,
1979). The Christian saints have often demonstrated a selfless love for others expressed
through service to those with the greatest need.
378 PAUL GOWACK AND VALERIE A. VALLE

Charitable service, or Karma Yoga, is considered one of the paths to enlightenment

within the Hindu tradition. Through Karma Yoga, one realizes the oneness of one's indi-
vidual soul with the universal soul by doing one's duty without attachment to the fruits
thereof. This self-surrender through service leads to greater union with the divine (Reich-
enbach, 1990).
Buddhism also encourages selfless service. Although Buddhism sees suffering as a
universal reality, suffering may be relieved through the application of three principles:
metta, loving-kindness actively pursued (see Chapter 15 in this volume); karuna, compas-
sionate mercy that does not repay evil with evil; and mudita, the feeling and expression of
approval for other people's good deeds. These principles find their expression in works of
social welfare, including public works projects and the maintenance of hospitals and shel-
ters (King, 1952). Islam encourages people to serve Allah by means of good works, includ-
ing almsgiving, kindness, and good treatment of parents, the dying, orphans, and the elderly
(Frenz, 1975).
In Maslow's (1959) description of self-actualized individuals, he states that for them
there is no line or wall between the self and other, between inside and outside. Without a dif-
ferentiation between self and other, there is no distinction between personal pleasure and ser-
vice to others. For Maslow, selfless service is a natural outgrowth of human development.
For Almaas (1984) as well, service is useful and necessary work as part of self-
realization and development. Essence manifests as compassion and service as well as
peace, strength, consciousness, and contentment.
Very little has been done to study the actual experience of those who choose to be of
service to others. The studies of volunteers who work with the dying have found that those
who become the greatest resource to the family involved, and who themselves are most ful-
filled, are often motivated by a desire to serve, to share, and to learn. These volunteers find
value in what they do and the circumstances they find themselves in (Shoenberg, 1972).
The first author of this chapter volunteered time on a weekly basis for three years in
an AIDS hospice. From the rich experiences he had during this time, he grew to feel that
there is a particular "grace" that is experienced by those who extend themselves in service
to those who are in the dying process, and that the experience of grace through voluntary
service is an identifiable experiential phenomenon awaiting a deeper understanding. His
research reported here came from this realization that through selfless service one can
have an experience of grace and from the desire to know more about the nature of this
experience.

THE RESEARCH: BACKGROUND AND PROCEDURE

The research involved a phenomenological investigation of the experience of "feeling

grace" while being of service on a volunteer basis to the terminally ill. Existential-
phenomenological psychology represents a marriage between existentialism and phenom-
enology. S0ren Kierkegaard, a founder of existential philosophy, addressed the fundamen-
tal themes that human beings struggle with in order to bring meaning to their existence
(Haecker, 1937). Edmund Husserl (1962), the primary proponent of phenomenology,
placed great importance on the unbiased study of things as they are actually lived and ex-
perienced so that one might be able to come to an essential understanding of human con-
FEELING GRACE IN SERVICE TO TERMINAllY III 379

sciousness and experience. In brief, existentialism is the philosophy of existence and phe-
nomenology the philosophy of experience.
Martin Heidegger (1962) brought together existential concerns and the study ofhu-
man experience, laying the groundwork for an existential-phenomenological psychology.
Valle, King, and Halling (1989, p. 6) summarize this approach: "Existential-phenomeno-
logical psychology [is] that psychological discipline that seeks to explicate the essence,
structure, or form of both human experience and human behavior as revealed through es-
sentially descriptive techniques including disciplined reflection."
This discipline rests on the concept that the individual and his or her world co-consti-
tute one another. In this sense, the research subject is seen as a co-researcher because the re-
searcher and the subject together manifest or constitute the meaning of the experienced
situation.
Again, the research phenomenon under investigation was the experience of feeling
grace while being of service on a volunteer basis to the terminally ill. Twelve individuals
or co-researchers (eight women and four men) who had had this experience were selected.
Six co-researchers had served as volunteers in a hospice or hospital setting, and six had vol-
unteered to be in the home or other settings. They were instructed to describe their experi-
ence as follows:
Select a time and space where you can be alone, uninterrupted and relaxed. Recall a timels when you
were "feeling grace" while being of service on a volunteer basis to the terminally ill. Please describe
how you felt during that time/so Try to describe your feelings just as they were, so that someone read-
ing or hearing your report would know exactly what that experience was like for you. Keep your focus
on the experience, not just the situation itself. Please do not stop until you feel that you have described
your feelings as completely as possible. Take as long as you would like to complete your description.

After the written protocols were received and read, a face-to-face "walk-through" in-
terview was conducted to further elucidate and deepen the description given in each proto-
col (Mishler, 1986). The author read what had been written back to the co-researcher
sentence by sentence, giving him or her the opportunity to confirm and elaborate on what
had been written. Each interview was tape recorded, transcribed, and added to the original
written protocol.
Upon receipt of the protocols, the meanings contained in the different descriptive ac-
counts of the phenomenon under study were extracted while the researcher exercised a re-
flective attitude toward each life-text or descriptive report of the experience (von
Eckartsberg, 1986). Central to this reflective process is bracketing, an inner discipline by
which the researcher's assumptions, biases, and preconceptions about the phenomenon un-
der study are suspended in awareness in order to minimize the effects these preconceived
notions would have on the process of revealing the meaning structure of the experience be-
ing investigated (Giorgi, 1975).
Focusing on the subjects' experienced meaning as revealed in these life-texts, the ob-
jective was to find the fundamental structure of the phenomenon as it appeared throughout
the many diverse accounts of the phenomenon itself. This was accomplished through the
method of explication (von Eckartsberg, 1986), whereby the life-text is transformed into a
universally understood language using psychological and phenomenological terminology.
What has been implicit becomes explicit through the form of interpretive reading that re-
veals the underlying prereflective structure of the experience that is being investigated. This
results in an understanding of the lived human meaning of the phenomenon.
380 PAUL GOWACK AND VALERIE A. VALLE

The specific analysis used was based on an adaptation of Colaizzi's (1973, 1978) six-
step procedure. The steps were:
1. All of the final protocols were read carefully in order to acquire a feeling for them.
2. The researcher then returned to each protocol and extracted phrases or sentences
that directly pertained to the investigated phenomenon, creating a list. This process
is known as extracting significant statements. Repetitions were eliminated, and the
remaining relevant statements were classified into naturally occurring categories.
3. Each categorized statement was then translated for the purpose of communicating
them more clearly in psychological terms. Colaizzi (1978, p. 59) remarks: "This is
a precarious leap because, while moving beyond the protocol statements, the mean-
ing he arrives at and formulates should never sever all connection with the original
protocols; his formulations must discover and illuminate those meanings hidden in
the various contexts and horizons of the investigated phenomenon which are an-
nounced in the original protocols." This step was repeated for each protocol.
4. All of the formulated meanings were then organized into theme clusters across all
protocols. These theme clusters were then referred back to the original protocols
in order to validate them by searching for anything that was contained in the origi-
nal protocols that was not accounted for in the clusters of themes, or to see whether
the theme clusters proposed anything that was not implied in the original protocols.
At this point, even if discrepancies were noted between the various clusters, or if
themes flatly contradicted each other or appeared totally unrelated, they were not
eliminated. The researcher proceeded with the conviction that what is logically in-
explicable may be existentially real and valid. The researcher was careful to not
prematurely generate a theory that would eliminate the discordant findings or to ig-
nore data that did not appear to fit.
5. All of the results were integrated into an exhaustive description of the investigated
topic by tying together and integrating the themes as a whole:
a. The theme clusters from all 12 protocols were combined across protocols to
form 52 constituent themes.
b. From the 52 constituent themes, the ones that were found to contain the same
meaning were then combined to form 16 comprehensive constituent themes.
c. Upon further reduction, 7 final comprehensive constituent themes emerged.
6. An effort was then made to formulate the exhaustive description of the investigated
phenomenon into a statement identifying its fundamental structure. This was the
essential structural definition of the phenomenon under study.

THE CONSTITUENTS

For the experience offeeling grace while in volunteer service to the terminally ill, 7 fi-
nal comprehensive constituent themes were identified. These 7 themes represent the results
of the research:
1. Feeling present in the moment, often with heightened awareness.
2. Feeling blessed and/or loved.
3. Feeling oneness or connection, often without fear.
FEELING GRACE IN SERVICE TO TERMINALLY ILL 381

4. Feeling guided.
5. Feeling energized.
6. Feeling peace.
7. Feeling joy.
Let us look at each of these in turn.
1. Feeling present in the moment, often with heightened awareness. This theme was
evident in the descriptions of all 12 co-researchers, and is illustrated in their words:
Grace grounded me in the present and surrounded me as though always being part of my dominion,
my environ.
Mentally, it [grace1is an experience of alertness at an elevated level. I feel merged with the mo-
ment, feeling the complete rightness of now. There is no sense of serving another, but only of be-
ing served my this moment.
Grace has a feeling of its own. I am very aware of the other person, their needs and what they need
to do, and what I need to be with that person, and what I need to do to help. I am also aware of God
in that place.
My focus seems intensely sharpened on my duties of making him more comfortable.

2. Feeling blessed and/or loved. Ten co-researchers reported this feeling, usually as a
blessing or love bestowed upon the one serving. Some examples are:
I think the countenance of the Lord shone upon us ... my father and every member of my family
who focused his or her attention on caring for my father during the last weeks of his life.
I am aware of a boundless sense of receiving what I giving. A boundless and deep compassionate
power through a quiet, loving Divine Connection
It was an honor to take care of both of these people, and I feel blessed by the experience.

The blessing received was sometimes felt as a transfer of beneficent power, a power that
emanates from the supernatural world and confers a new quality on the object of the bless-
ing. One example is:
My ministry at the church is musical. For me the hour is a state of grace. I believe that music heals,
that God's love flows through me and out my fingers, and everyone there is bathed in the vibrations
coming from the piano strings.

For others, the feeling of love did not so much come from an outside power as emerge from
the service being offered, and it included a sense of self-love. One co-researcher said:
It seems that in serving my father we served ourselves; in loving him, one another.

3. Feeling ofoneness or connection, often without fear. This theme was reflected in 10
of the 12 descriptions. The co-researchers expressed feeling connected to all human beings and
to all there is. In addition, this experience was described as being spiritual or sacred by those
who felt connected with God, the universe, a higher power, or the inner self. Examples include:
I seem to be connected to an energy and power much greater than myself and my friend.
Sometimes I would touch or kiss his forehead, sometimes quietly hold his hand in mine, but always
with a holiness for all of life. I combed his hair, washed his face, swabbed his mouth, all with the
touch I would imagine belonging to an angel. I did not feel like I was important, that I was like an
angel, but that I had transcended my usual self, and was in touch with the sacredness of all things
on this earth.
I just suddenly found myself connected into and acting from a very "deep" place. I was aware of
oneness.
382 PAUL GOWACK AND VALERIE A. VALLE

Grace for me is that connecting to a Higher Power.

For several co-researchers, the feeling of being connected was an experience of being of
service without fear. Two examples are:
I have had so many gifts from being with the dying. One is the knowledge that comes with grace,
that there is no need to fear. That life is infinitely precious. That what I do, think, feel and say every
minute of every day affects everything else. Everything feels connected to everything else.
I continue to do my work for Alan. I have never disconnected from that activity at all. r carryon car-
ing for my friend, caring for myself. I work in a kind of stillness with no fear.

4. Feeling guided. Nine of the co-researchers felt guidance during their service to the
terminally ill. Some felt they had assistance from a higher power and that what they did
while in service to the dying was the "correct" action because of this guidance. The fol-
lowing are examples of this theme:
When I am filled with grace r am empowered by God, the Universe, a Supreme Being, to carry the
necessary information and assistance to someone who is dying. This is usually in the form of send-
ing clairvoyant pictures telepathically to the dying person. Pictures that show them what is left to
do, say, release, so that they may leave their bodies in peace.
Divine grace is intimate, immediate, and personal. While in the grace I am not aware of consciously
making decisions in my head. I am aware that I am intuitively responding out of my soul connec-
tion with God; whatever I do or say, and however I respond, it is out of response to God.
I felt as ifmy every intention was being guided by a Higher Power.

5. Feeling energized. Nine co-researchers felt energized in particular ways while

serving as a volunteer. This aspect was described in various ways, including a feeling of
buoyancy, of being held or carried, of being physically invigorated, and of being permeated
with light. Examples include:
My experience of it [grace] is that it surrounds quietly, seeping into your cells. This feeling is of
great buoyancy. This feeling of buoyancy filled me and carried me to the threshold of his hospital
room door.
Physically it [grace] manifests as a rush of energy.
It [grace] was so energizing-but it doesn't last.
In my body, the warmth and glow of grace unfolds from above and behind my solar plexus. It even-
tually feels like there is a balloon inflated there inside me. There is a feeling of buoyancy and light-
ness.
It [grace] always begins with a warm glow, and then the realization that the warmth and glow come
from the light, the golden light that pulses throughout the universe. I have seen the light and words
evade a complete description. The light shimmers, pulses, permeates, pervades, fills, surrounds,
and sustains everything.

6. Feelingpeace. Eight of the co-researchers experienced the feeling of peace, an ex-

perience that allowed them to be of service without exhausting themselves physically or
emotionally. They reported an ease when working with the dying. Examples include:
I feel calm, suffused with life force.
I feel peaceful despite a stressful life and I am not worried or anxious.
Nothing about the experience was sanctimonious, nothing felt religious, just a feeling of continu-
ous steady peace.
The moment of grace is-graceful, peaceful.
FEELING GRACE IN SERVICE TO TERMINALLY ILL 383

One co-researcher described this peace as a prevailing experience during the time spent
with the dying:
I have often thought of what it was I felt. What described the experience of being with Tom that last
year. My ever-present sense was that I could and would do nothing else but take care of him. How
can I describe the feeling, the enveloping aura of serenity in the midst of death?

7. Feelingjoy. Seven co-researchers expressed a feeling of joy that stemmed from

simply giving and sharing what was needed in the moment. Joy came from seeing gratitude
and through the intention of being available and freely serving the one who was dying. It
would arise out of loving action toward the one in need, and was connected to the felt grace.
The following examples illustrate this theme:
I go about my work in a kind of sacred joy.
Joy is the closest I can describe it. Joy without exuberance.
I stayed with him a few more minutes making him comfortable, said good-bye. I was very, very happy.
Now, in this moment, tears come to my eyes and my heart fills me with sweet sadness, but that day,
there was no sadness, there was only the joy of sharing his company.

The structural definition that emerged from these constituents is this: The essence of
the experience of feeling grace in voluntary service to the terminally ill was a sense of be-
ing present in the moment with heightened awareness while feeling blessed and loved, con-
nected and guided, energized and at peace, with a sense of joy.

AN EMERGING UNDERSTANDING OF GRACE

The literature on the experience of grace had suggested that through selfless service,
one enhances the opportunity to experience grace. From the Christian call to serve those in
greatest need to the ancient Vedic wisdom regarding selfless surrender, from Maslow's
(1971) description of the self-actualized individual to Almaas's (1984) discussion of the im-
portance of service, the need to give of ourselves, selflessly, has consistently been seen as
part of the process of fulfilling human potential. This study revealed that, at least for these
12 individuals, service to the dying offered an opportunity to experience grace.
The experiences of these volunteers fit with previous descriptions of the nature of
grace, from both the religious and the psychological perspective. Let us now compare the
results of this study with the spiritual and psychological literature on the nature of grace by
looking at each of the constituent themes in turn.
The feeling of being present in the moment, often experienced with heightened
awareness, was included in many of the previous descriptions of grace. Pahnke and
Richards (1973) described a transcendence of time and space, while The Mother (1989)
stated that in divine consciousness, things that usually seem dull and uninteresting become
charming, pleasant, and attractive. Maslow (1964) said that during peak experiences, vi-
sual and auditory perceptions are heightened and a disorientation of time and space may
occur. Similarly, Elite (1993) found both alterations in perception and a more acute expe-
riencing through the senses.
Feeling blessed and/or loved was not specifically described in any of the sources re-
viewed above, but was implicit in St. Augustine's sense that God dwells within (Liderbach,
 384 PAUL GOWACK AND VALERIE A. VALLE

1983) and in St. Thomas Aquinas'sense that grace is a gift of God's merciful love (Dreyer,
1990). In the protocols of this study, this love was often experienced as an exchange oflove
between individuals and/or a higher power.
The feeling of oneness or connection, often without fear, is an experience that shows
up in many of the previous descriptions of grace. James (1977) describes the mystical state
as an experience that is felt as reconciling and unifying. One of the primary aspects of peak
experiences as described by Maslow (1962) is that the whole universe is perceived as an in-
tegrated and unified whole. Pahnke and Richards (1973) list unity as the first of their cate-
gories that describe the core of mystical consciousness. And Elite (1993) found feeling
connected and/or unified with various aspects of existence to be one of the core constituents
of the experience of being voluntarily silent. .
The feeling of being guided by a higher power was consistent with some of the oldest
descriptions of grace. St. Thomas Aquinas described grace as the gift of wisdom (Dreyer,
1990). It is also consistent with the sense of the world as sacred described by Maslow
(1962) and Pahnke and Richards (1973).
Feeling energized is a concept often used in describing the nature of grace. From the
Hindu tradition, The Mother (1972) describes divine consciousness as full of energy.
William James (1977) felt that the mystical state rendered the soul more energetic and in-
spired. Meissner (1987) regarded grace as the activation of energy resources latent within
the ego, and Elite (1993) found that one of the core constituents of the experience of being
silent was feeling rejuvenated.
The feeling of peace gave the respondents an inner ground from which to love and serve
the dying. This is consistent with St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, who suggest that
one of the gifts of grace is the ability to love other persons (Dreyer, 1990; Liderbach, 1983).
The feeling of joy is described by Pahnke and Richards (1973) as a deeply felt positive
mood. Solimar (1986) found that through the experience of loving self and others there is
gladness.

CONCLUDING REFLECTIONS

By employing a phenomenological method to investigate the experience of grace, we

have addressed, in an empirical scientific manner, an experience that, to date, has been dis-
cussed primarily in religious and theological circles. The results of our study suggest that
through the giving of oneself it is possible to experience a feeling of grace, and that the
essence of this experiences, as revealed through this constituent analysis, is consistent with
both religious and psychological theories regarding the nature of grace.
Volunteer work with the dying has been a source of experiencing grace for both au-
thors of this chapter. Theologians have asserted that grace is a free gift from the divine and
cannot be sought or "caused," yet it appears that one can open oneself to experiencing the
presence of grace through selfless service. How can we reconcile these two apparently op-
posing perspectives? It has also been asserted that we are always surrounded by grace, but
most of the time we live our lives unaware of its presence. If this is in fact true, then the re-
sults of this study suggest that love expressed through selfless service, at least when being
with the dying, can help dissolve the boundaries of ego-self that keep us from the awareness
of the presence of grace.
FEELING GRACE IN SERVICE TO TERMINALLY ILL 385

The co-researchers in this study all experienced a sense of being present, often with a
heightened awareness. The deep sense of being present that comes with a more focused kind
of loving service can heighten our awareness not only of our sensory experience, but also of
the presence of grace. It is through this awareness that one can find the energy to be ofloving
service without "burning-out." The incredible amount of energy and love often needed to care
for the terminally ill can be supported by this grace, this source of energy, peace, and joy. It
appears that through surrendering oneself in selfless service, one discovers within all that one
needs. The results of this study reflect the wisdom of these words from a prayer attributed to
St. Francis: "For it is in giving that we receive" (The Book of Common Prayer, 1979).

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 19

On the Encounter with a

Divine Presence during a
Near-Death Experience
A Phenomenological Inquiry
Timothy West

INTRODUCTION

This chapter presents a phenomenological study of the experience of "encountering a divine

presence during a near-death experience." As a result of my own near-death experience
(NDE), I was inspired to investigate what I intuitively felt was the essence and defining ele-
ment of the phenomenon: the meeting with an omnipotent, all-knowing entity or what many
people commonly conceive of as "God." Although there exists a relatively large body of both
empirical and speculative literature concerning near-death experiences, rigorous existential-
phenomenological investigations, such as the study presented in this chapter, are rare. Since
the nature of near-death experience defies "objective" measurement, qualitative or phenom-
enological methods seem best suited to describe the essence of this remarkable event.
The phenomenon of near-death experience, as we shall see, is a multifaceted one with
great breadth and detail. One study cannot hope to cover all its implications. It is hoped that
this synopsis will whet your appetite to the point where you will make your own investiga-
tion into near-death experience in whatever way you see fit.
In my opinion, near-death experience has not been adequately examined at the most
basic level of the experiencer's perception. The phenomenon and its meaning appear to have

Timothy West • 512 Malobar Drive, Novato, California 94945.

387
 388 TIMOTHY WEST

been amplified through the lenses of the respective researchers and their selected excerpts,
rather than through the explication of, and engagement with, raw and primary descriptive
data elicited in a nondirective way. The reports of near-death experiencers themselves have
not directly created, in a true phenomenological fashion, the meanings and themes that
near-death experience has come to represent in the literature. This investigation attempts, in
part, to examine what shifts may take place in the overall meaning of the near-death phe-
nomenon if the locus of the event's description lies solely in the protocols of those who have
had a near-death experience.

Significance of Divine Presence in Near-Death Experience

The term near-death experience was coined by Raymond Moody (1975), and since
that time, several hundred publications, films, and videos concerning the subject have been
produced. Most researchers, however, have not directly concerned themselves with exam-
ining the nature of a divine encounter during an NDE. In fact, only one study asked its sub-
jects whether or not they felt they had encountered "God" or an all-powerful, infinite
presence (Atwater, 1994). Previous research has often confined itself to asking questions,
for example, about the "light" or an "all-consuming love" or "encounters with deceased rel-
atives" (Moody, 1975; Ring, 1980). Yet, until the investigation presented in this chapter,
there has not been a rigorous, phenomenological study of the element of divine encounter
in near-death experience.
Why have investigators shied away from examining this "divine presence" factor? If, as
this study has revealed, a high percentage of individuals who identify themselves as having
had a near-death experience also report encountering "God" or an infinite being, then why
has this aspect not been emphasized in the near-death experience prototypes and rating
scales (Moody, 1975; Ring, 1980)? There are probably a number of reasons for this situation.
First, near-death researchers, from very early on, certainly wanted their research to be
respected and accepted by the scientific community at large. Empirical science is generally
more interested in quantifiable data than in nebulous or infinite entities such as those sug-
gested by reports ofa divine presence. Investigators (Ring, 1980; Sabom, 1982), at least in
the early days of this field's development, certainly did not want to appear scientifically
"soft" or unrigorous. Near-death phenomena were in themselves difficult enough to quan-
tify-researchers did not want to stray into theological or philosophical quagmires. Re-
search therefore focused on the most measurable elements of the overall experience-for
example, the number of times individuals reported a certain category of experience or how
individuals were changed as a result of their NDEs.
Second, although those who have had a near-death experience usually take pains to de-
scribe themselves as having increased interests in spirituality and not religious activity,
some religious organizations feel threatened by the information that is emerging from near-
death studies (Rawlings, 1993). These more dogmatic religious groups would react strongly
to any reports that ordinary individuals were encountering God during involuntary experi-
ences outside a religious structure. Researchers did not want to invite any more pressure or
interference than they were already receiving from this quarter.
Finally, there exists within the NDE research community itself an ongoing debate that
centers around the differences between "radiant" or positive NDEs and the hellish or more
unpleasant varieties. Presumably, although much more evidence needs to be gathered, un-
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 389

pleasant NDEs tend not to contain a divine presence in its positive form, even though, as at
least one researcher has pointed out (Bush, 1994), the "divine" can appear as a dark or un-
derworld entity as well. The point here is that the study of divine presence may challenge
our more Pollyannaish concepts of who or what God is.
One prominent researcher (Ring, 1994) implies that he will not give ontological va-
lidity to experiences that do not contain the element of the all-embracing, all-powerful light
that has been emphasized in so much of the near-death lore. This sort of stance appears to
exclude from the NDE category those frightening experiences that report unpleasant affect
or do not contain "the light," and yet still have powerfully transformative effects on their ex-
periencers, quite similar to their "radiant" counterparts. If, indeed, research into divine
presence in near-death experiences shows the divine encounter to be as much of an element
in frightening experiences as in their more pleasant forms (as the study reported herein im-
plies), the ontological status of "the light" as reflected in the conclusions of early research
(Morse, 1992; Ring, 1984) will need to be reevaluated.
Even though there can be resistance to examining this question, it is an issue that is
clearly important to near-death experiencers themselves, as evidenced by the study reported
in this chapter, in which 10 of 12 individuals, responding to an advertisement for partici-
pants in the study, claimed that they had unequivocally encountered a divine presence. The
goal of this research is to present an essential description of this near-death encounter or, as
Ken Vincent (1994) has phrased it, our present culture's "cleanest generic vision of God."
In a society dominated and often blinded by materialism and technology, perhaps it is time
that we examine the essence of a common form of modem mystical experience.

Mystical Experience, God, and Self-Transformation in Near-Death Experience

Past research indicates that near-death experience bears the earmarks of what is often
termed mystical experience or an enlightenment event (Vincent, 1994). This experience is
often described as containing an encounter with God or some sort of divine or "higher" en-
tity (Ring, 1984). Furthermore, the effects of having such an encounter are nearly always
found to be profoundly transformative (Atwater, 1994; Morse, 1992). These themes, in my
estimation, represent the most important and powerful elements of near-death experience
and of what this phenomenon can teach us.
Let us first look at the term divine presence as it is being used for the purposes of this
study. The term "presence" is meant to be understood as the condition of being present or
perceived as existing or being in attendance in the immediate surroundings or vicinity. The
term "divine" is intended to imply the quality of being like God or a god, given or inspired
by God, or supremely and all-powerfully great, good, and loving. These definitions closely
parallel those given in Webster's New World Dictionary (1988).
Although none of the participants in this study was confused by the meaning of the
term "divine presence," it is important to be exact for the purposes of this chapter, espe-
cially concerning the concept of "God," which is inherent in the term "divine." Again from
Webster's (1988), God is defined as "the entity perceived as being eternal, infinite, all-pow-
erful, and all knowing, often seen as being the creator and ruler of the universe."
The first researcher to carefully examine the "divine" nature of near-death experience
was Kenneth Ring (1984) in his book Heading Toward Omega. Ring, when writing about
his investigations, is painstaking in his efforts to let the data speak for themselves, whether
390 TIMOTHY WEST

these data be from a statistical analysis or the actual transcripts of his interviews with
NDErs. In this spirit, I quote a number of Ring's research subjects to give a flavor of what
the divine element in NDE might be like. These passages from Ring are taken from the
hook Visions of God from the Near-Death Experience by Ken Vincent (1994):
It's something which becomes you and you become it. I could say, "I was peace, I was love."
It was the brightness, it was part of me (p. 29).
It was just pure consciousness. And this enormously bright light seemed almost to cradle me.
I just seemed to exist in it and be part of it and be nurtured by it and the feeling just became more
and more ecstatic and glorious and perfect (p. 29).
It was neither man or woman, but it was both. I have never, before or since, seen anything as
beautiful, loving, and perfectly pleasant as this being. An immense, radiant love poured from it.
An incredible light shone through every single pore of its face. The colors of the light were mag-
nificent, vibrant, and alive .... I had the overpowering feeling I was in the presence of the source
of my life and perhaps even my creator (p. 31).
Upon entering that light ... the atmosphere, the energy, its total pure energy, its total knowl-
edge, its total love, pure love-everything about it is definitely the afterlife, if you will (p. 31).
I cannot begin to describe in human terms the feeling I had at what I saw. It was a giant infi-
nite world of calm, and love, and energy and beauty (p. 31).
An immense radiant love poured from it. An incredible light shone through every single pore
of its face .... I was filled with an intense feeling of joy and awe. I was consumed with an ab-
solutely inexpressible amount oflove (p. 35).
Now I know there's a God and that God is everything that exists, [that's] the essence of God .
. . . Everything that exists has the essence of God within it. I know there's a God now. I have no
question (p. 21).

As implied in the last quotation above, it appears that the divine encounter can have
significant effects on an individual's belief system. Research has shown that near-death ex-
perience, in general, nearly always transforms the nature of one's attitudes toward the exis-
tence of a divine power, often changing a static religious acceptance or even atheism into a
dynamic, spiritual orientation based on experience. In fact, Ring (1984) found all 25 of his
research participants to "strongly believe" in the existence of God after their NDEs. His re-
search sample included those who were atheists, agnostics, and only "nominally religious"
prior to their experiences. Ring (1984, p. 85) states:
Plainly, whatever adherence to a notion of God we may find in such people following their NDE
carmot be attributed to their prior orientation.

After presenting case after case that contains accounts of what we have defined as divine
presence, Ring asks the uitimate questions (p. 84):
Isn't it obvious that what core NDErs experience when they come close to death is what the rest of
us would call God, or if not God, then surely some aspect of the infinitude of God manifest to the
mind or spirit of the NDEr? To what other agency is it, after all, reasonable to ascribe the attributes
of the core experience: the brilliant light, the all-consuming love, the feeling of total acceptance,
the sense of total knowledge .... If this experience is not of God, then what else could it possibly
be?

He goes on to conclude that the core NDE contains the direct and immediate experi-
ence of God and that it is this meeting, connection, or immersion that is the essence and ba-
sis of the NDE's power to transform. He writes (p. 155):
The implication is that the qualities of the light somehow infuse themselves into the core of the
experiencer's being so as to lead to a complete union with the light. In apparently the sense in which
medieval theologian and mystic Meister Eckhart spoke of man becoming God, NDErs may experi-
ence this merging of their own individuality with the divine. In any event, the testimony from more
than one core experiencer indicates that there is a direct transmission of the light's energy into
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 391

themselves and that what is absorbed in that encounter with the light in that moment outside of time
remains with them when they return to the world of time. In short, the seeds of transformation ap-
pear to be planted during the NDE....

Morse (1992) echoes Ring's observations. Morse clearly believes that the essence of
the near-death experience is to be found in "the light." Since nearly all NDErs who experi-
ence this light equate it with what we have come to call divine presence, we may assume
this light to have divine properties. Here is what Morse has to say about the effects of this
light (p. 171):
The ... study neatly documents the fact that people who have near-death experiences are changed
for life. Those changes are most profound in the NDErs who have experiences of light. This was
true whether they had a vivid and powerful memory of a flower-filled heaven bursting with light,
or just a brief and fleeting memory of seeing the light.

Morse in effect is saying that it is during the encounter with this light that the experi-
encer undergoes the changes associated with NDE. Although Morse rarely mentions God
or "the divine" except through the quotations of his research participants, he obviously re-
gards the light as all-powerful when it comes to the transformative properties of near-death
experience.
Atwater (1994), a near-death experiencer as well as a researcher, is more explicit about
the divine quality of the oft-reported light in NDEs. She clearly links the all-powerful qual-
ity of this presence with the essential transformative effects of the phenomenon (p. 142):
... as an experiencer, I can positively affirm that being bathed in the Light on the other side of
death is more than life changing. That light is the very essence, the heart and soul, the all-consum-
ing consummation of ecstatic ecstasy.... You know it's God. No one has to tell you. You know. You
can no longer believe in God, for belief implies doubt. There is no more doubt. None. You now
know God. And you know that you know. And you're never the same again.

Vincent (1994) believes the near-death experience to be our present culture's "clean-
est" and most direct form of individual contact with the divine. Along with Ring and At-
water, Vincent sees the central meaning of the NDE as emanating from its ability to afford
the experiencer a direct revelation of God. From the work of these various researchers, it
seems that the pivotal, trans formative force within the near-death experience is an element
of divine presence or power, usually in the form of "the light."
It is also known that many individuals, throughout history, have had experiences that
parallel modern NDEs, encounters that have come to be termed "mystical." The question
arises whether mystical experience, by definition, includes a divine encounter and
whether near-death experience can therefore be associated with this category of experi-
ence. Several researchers (Atwater, 1994; Moody, 1977; Morse, 1992; Ring, 1984; Vin-
cent, 1994) feel that the near-death experience is indeed a form of mystical experience.
Moody (1977, pp. 99-100) quotes William James as listing the following characteristics
of mystical visions:
1. Ineffability-The subject of it immediately says that it defies expression, that no adequate
report of its contents can be given in words.
2. Noetic quality-Mystical states seem to those who experience them to be also states
of knowledge. They are states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive
intellect....
3. Transiency-Mystical states cannot be sustained for long. Except in rare instances, half
an hour, or at most an hour or two, seems to be the limit beyond which they fade into the
light of common day....
 392 TIMOTHY WEST

4. Passivity--. .. when the characteristic sort of consciousness has set in, the mystic feels as
if his own will were in abeyance, and indeed sometimes as ifhe were grasped and held by
a superior power.... Mystical states ... are never merely interruptive. Some memory of
their content always remains, and a profound sense of their importance. They modify the
inner life ofthe subject.

Based on the findings reviewed above, a given NDE may contain any or all of these
characteristics. Moody points out, however, that near-death experiences appear to contain
elements that are not classically reported in mystical visions recorded throughout history
(e.g., a life review and meeting with dead relatives).
Atwater (1994) quotes another early investigator of mystical phenomena, Richard
Maurice Bucke, and notes that there are striking similarities between Bucke's "pattern of
mystical enlightenment" and the aftereffects ofNDE. Bucke's characteristics are (Atwater,
1994, pp. 145-146):
1. The subjective light: A brilliant blinding flash is seen. The individual's surroundings take
on colors of unearthly hues and brilliance ....
2. The moral elevation: Afterward, the individual becomes moral and upright, shunning the
temptation to judge or criticize another.... A greater duty and service to God and hu-
mankind becomes a life priority.
3. The intellectual illumination: All things are made known, all knowledge is given, all se-
crets of the universe are revealed ... he or she is overwhelmed by total and complete love.
Glowing beings give instructions, as the "Word of God" is seen or felt; the oneness of all
things shown.
4. The sense o/immortality: Thinking is replaced by knowing. The individual realizes his
or her divine identity ... that we are all immortal and divine from "The Beginning."
5. The loss o/the/ear o/death: Death loses all meaning and relevance. The individual now
knows death does not end anything, is nothing but a change of awareness.
6. The loss 0/ the sense 0/ sin: Evil is understood as good misused, that all things are good
in God's eyes.
7. The suddenness, instantaneousness 0/ the awakening: ... the actual moment of illumi-
nation is always unexpected, sudden, and blinding. It can last minutes or hours or days.
8. The previous character of the person: ... resident characteristics are expanded and en-
hanced ... latent abilities surface, including genius ... the desire to learn and excel is
strong.
9. The added charm o/the personality: The individual becomes so magnetic that people and
animals are drawn to him or her. The individual seems divinely protected and guided.
10. The transfiguration: There is a marked change in appearance. The individual seems to
glow and have a light around him or her. There are physical changes. The face looks dif-
ferent, and the individual behaves like a "new" person-as if suddenly more than before.

On the basis of these criteria, the near-death experience again shares important qualities of
an enlightened or mystical event.
Although it may not be clear whether all mystical experiences include a divine en-
counter, a number ofNDE investigators are quite certain that the near-death experience in-
volves some kind of contact with a divine element (Atwater, 1994; Morse, 1992; Vincent,
1994). Atwater (1994, p. 143) comments:
Although not everyone speaks of God when they return from death's door ... the majority do. And
almost to a person they begin to make references to oneness, allness, isness, the directive presence
behind and within and beyond all things.

In the same regard, Vincent (1994, p. 10) points out:

It is this Being of Light or Light, which many experiencers go on to label God or an emissary
of God ... they also and most importantly provide us with a generic vision of how humans see
God.
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 393

Vincent goes on to list a number of historical examples of mystical insights that men-
tion the "light," including The Egyptian Book of the Dead (Vincent, 1994), The Tibetan
Book of the Dead (Evans-Wentz, 1957), the Christian gospels, Zarathustra, St. Paul, and
others. Moody (1988) gives a similar list. Bucke (Atwater, 1994) mentions "light" as the
first element of mystical experience. Morse (1992, p. 175), moreover, views the "light" en-
counter as the sine qua non of the NDE's power to transform:
The transformative part of the experience is seeing the light. If a person has a paranormal experi-
ence such as leaving their body but it is not accompanied by the light, then the experience is not
usually transformative. If the light is experienced then there is a transformation. The trans formative
powers are in the light. That is what our research tells us.

Perennial wisdom and its scriptures contain passages that echo elements of near-death
experience. Christianity's New Testament, The Tibetan Book of the Dead, and the spiritual
science of Sant Mat from Northern India all contain written material alluding to out-of-
body traveling, encounters with "light" phenomena, and the return to a divine oneness
(West, 1996). The element of divine presence seems to appear, in some form, throughout
the great mystical teachings of history. A modern researcher, Vincent (1994), concludes that
present-day near-death experiences have become our culture's most direct form of religious
revelation because of: (1) the consistency of the revelations across cultures and religious
backgrounds and (2) the closeness and verifiability of the revelations' sources. If divine
presence is indeed an essential element of near-death experience, as the previous literature
seems to imply, what are its essential qualities and what form does it take in NDE? This is
the primary question that this phenomenological inquiry was designed to answer.

THE RESEARCH

This study examined the near-death experiences of six men and four women, all of
whom claimed to have encountered a divine presence during this time. A written descrip-
tion of the experience was obtained from each of the participants, who were subsequently
interviewed in a nondirective, "walk-through" fashion. The written protocol plus the tran-
scribed interview were then analyzed carefully for common thematic structure. The method
of analysis was based on an adaptation of Colaizzi's (1978) existential-phenomenological
approach. This research approach proceeded in five phases:
1. Data from the researcher's self-reflection.
2. Selection of co-researchers.
3. Data collection from the written protocols.
4. "Walk-through" interview.
5. Data analysis.

Phase 1. Data from Self-Reflection. During this phase, I closely scrutinized my

own presuppositions concerning the near-death phenomenon by examining my own expe-
rience of the event and by listing any presuppositions or biases that this experience or any
related information may have produced. This was done in order to minimize any inclina-
tions to impose predeterminations on or unwarranted interpretations of the co-researchers'
descriptions. This self-reflective process produced a list of26 preconceptions or biases.
394 TIMOTHY WEST

Phase 2. Selection of Co-Researchers. Co-researchers were solicited through word

of mouth, a posted flyer, and several announcements. Twelve individuals responded and,
over the phone, ten were determined to have undergone a near-death experience in which
they had encountered a divine presence.
The ten co-researchers included six men and four women ranging in age from 29 to
67. Each co-researcher received a consent form to be signed and returned.

Phase 3. Data Collection from the Written Protocols. A questionnaire based on

that of van Kaam (1966) was used to elicit the descriptions. Each co-researcher was asked to:
1. Recall the time when you experienced encountering a divine presence during a
near-death experience.
2. On a separate piece of paper, write your description of how you felt during that
time.
3. Try to describe your feelings just as they were, so that someone reading the report
would know exactly what the experience was like for you. Keep your focus on the
experience itself, not just the situation.
4. Please do not stop until you feel that you have described your feelings as com-
pletely as possible. Take as long as you would like to complete your description.
The co-researchers thus produced written narratives of the experience being investigated.

Phase 4. "Walk-Through" Interview. The face-to-face interviews proceeded with

the researcher reading back the respective written description to each co-researcher in a re-
laxed statement-by-statement fashion, pausing at appropriate times and allowing the expe-
riencers to deepen and detail their descriptions. In this way, the co-researchers "walked
through" their written protocols to give them an opportunity to elaborate as completely as
they cared to. The interviews were tape-recorded and then transcribed.

Phase 5. Data Analysis. The 10 steps used for the data analysis are based on meth-
ods used by Colaizzi (1978) and von Eckartsberg (1986):
1. The final protocols were read carefully several times to gain a feeling for their
characteristic meaning and intent.
2. Significant statements were extracted from each protocol, and a list was made for
each co-researcher.
3. These significant statements were sorted into theme clusters within each protocol.
4. These theme clusters were then combined across protocols to form 84 constituent
themes.
5. The constituent themes were then examined to make sure that all the extracted sig-
nificant statements pertained to that theme.
6. The constituent themes were then clustered in groups that appeared to share a new
level of meaning. This is where I began to use intuitive judgment to generalize
statements without losing the underlying essence of the particular co-researcher's
experience. Elite (see Chapter 14 in this volume) notes that "Colaizzi (1978) de-
scribes this procedure as a 'precarious leap' that the phenomenologist makes in or-
der to bring an interpretive-psychological meaning to the extracted statements."
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 395

7. The constituent themes found to have the same thematic meanings were combined
to form 25 comprehensive constituent themes.
8. Further reduction revealed seven final comprehensive constituent themes. All seven
of the final comprehensive constituent themes were contained in all ten protocols.
9. The final comprehensive constituent themes were then checked to make sure they
included all the meaning statements that belonged in the respective category.
Where appropriate, meaning statements were moved to another theme where the
category was more reflective of the statement. When necessary, the themes them-
selves were altered to more accurately reflect their constituent meaning statements.
10. The essential structural definition of the phenomenon was then derived from the
final comprehensive constituent themes.

Final Comprehensive Constituent Themes

Seven final comprehensive constituent themes emerged from the analysis. Among
them, these themes contain every significant meaning statement in the protocols; in addi-
tion, each theme was found to be present in all ten of the protocols analyzed. The seven fi-
nal comprehensive constituent themes are as follows l :
1. Leaving the body, traveling, and returning to the body.
2. Experiencing infinity and no boundaries with a surrender to and/or merging with a
higher power.
3. Experiencing divine refuge and/or homecoming with extraordinary feelings of
love, acceptance, peace, and joy.
4. Experiencing absolute truth and divine knowledge.
5. Perceiving the experience as ineffable.
6. Perceiving the experience as a personal message.
7. Perceiving the experience as transformational.
A discussion of each final comprehensive constituent theme follows, with several ex-
cerpted examples from the co-researchers' protocols chosen to represent the flavor and
range of the statements that comprise each theme. The excerpts are presented in such a way
as to give an idea of the whole of each co-researcher's unique experience.
1. Leaving the body, traveling, and returning to the body. Each co-researcher in this
study had some sense of having left his or her body or of beginning to do so. This sensa-
tion was expressed in a variety of ways, ranging from simply "going through darkness
somewhere," to a sense of having died and encountering a feeling of "incredible warmth"
in a deep blackness, to a relatively complex journey, to a celestial landscape and city of
light. From these data, it appears that the encounter with a divine presence during a near-
death experience takes place, not within the perceptual field of the physical body, but rather
at some other level of consciousness. The seven general ways in which co-researchers ex-
pressed the fact that they felt they were leaving or had left the physical body are as follows:
a. The sense of having died yet being alive.
b. The sense of having a detached, disembodied awareness without pain.

lAs with all category descriptors in this study, the language of the co-researchers is preserved and included as
much as possible to reflect the essence of the experience as they described it.
396 TIMOTHY WEST

c. The sense of traveling without a body.

d. The experience of having abilities that are not indigenous to the physical body.
e. The experience of going to another world with different dimensions and conditions.
f. The feeling that one has left the concerns of the ordinary world completely behind one.
g. A sense of pain, loss, gain, or problematic reentry into the physical body.
Examples of the different ways that this final comprehensive constituent theme mani-
fested include:
Everyone thought I had died, but I knew I was still alive.... I was conscious of everyone's pres-
ence. I could hear them talking .... All that was left of me was a blue line of light spanning from
my head to my toes about the circumference of a pencil, but that light was fully conscious, fully
aware, fully present. ... Then I left the room ... there was no pain ... I moved without any effort
further and further away and progressively higher ... whatever problems I had before or whatever
troubles I had-none of it mattered anymore .... I moved down the dark tunnel much faster than I
had gone up and felt myself again in my body ... just like that!
I had been traveling through an incredibly vast darkness ... there was no reference ... no arms ...
. I can distinctly remember that memory of no arms, no legs .... And then becoming aware of this
light, just a dot, just a speck; and then just traveling to it, like going through this eternal space and
being conscious.
Immediately I found myself in the midst of a paralyzing electric current which locked my hands
and arms all the way from my shoulders to my fingers .... Suddenly I was just locked into it. ... It
was the closest that I have possibly come to death .... I remember things got dark and I began to
realize that I was going to die .... I experienced that I was going somewhere, I was actually, it was
almost like I was going through this darkness somewhere. That was very, very scary and I knew
right away that something had to happen so I could come back ....

2. Experiencing infinity and no boundaries with a surrender to and/or merging with

a higher power. The co-researchers also experienced encountering some force or power
that they deemed infinitely greater than themselves and responded to in various ways, in-
cluding fear, struggle, awe, and wonder. Some co-researchers felt completely relaxed dur-
ing this experience and felt that they had merged with some divine source. Others struggled
and resisted out of fear before feeling a sense of communion. Another felt that he only ap-
proached this union without completing it. Several co-researchers reported a sensation of
not having boundaries, of not knowing where they began or the infinite began, and of being
completely permeable to a higher power. All the co-researchers invariably felt a respect and
humility in facing what they all perceived to be a colossal and infinite reality far beyond the
limits of this world. In the face of this infinite power, many co-researchers felt a sense of
personal insignificance and even a complete loss of identity and personal control, which in
some cases was seen to be a joy and a relief.
This final comprehensive constituent theme was expressed in three general ways:
a. Fear, wonder, awe, or amazement at the divine vastness or eternity.
b. A profound sense of personal insignificance or loss of identity and control; an ab-
sence of boundaries.
c. Surrender to and often immersion with a supreme oneness, sometimes in the form
of an all embracing "light" or "being of light."
Examples from the co-researchers'words are:
I became light. ... I not just became with, but became of and became part of.... The darkness, it
was like infinite, and I was conscious of this eternity, yet there was no reference ... [just] pure con-
scious awareness of vast eternity ... eternal space ... going beyond your conception of speed, be-
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 397

yond your conception of space ... being aware of so much yet no time passed. And yet all time
passed ... the light became everything.... All this wholeness was there, and it was like it was ra-
diating from the light and myself and the light were merging, evolving, coming together, or be-
coming .... I was conscious of being in awe continually and thinking there could be no grander
sensation of being ....
I simply gave up and relaxed all effort.. ,. It was a wonderful feeling to give up actually ... it's re-
ally an incredible experience.... I gave up, it was like, it's bigger than I am.... I was acutely aware
of the blackest black I had ever experienced....
I was in awe of it ... it is awesome.... I heard a multitude murmuring, but could only see and
sense the light.... [I] felt as much as saw the shimmering light-bright yet soft and not a blind-
ing light ... that just seemed to permeate and pass through ... that nothing could be hidden or not
revealed. I felt exposed as I never have felt before .... Episodes and experiences came round one
after another to my mind and I felt there was nothing about me that was unknown ... the light was
both bathing and passing through me like a slide projector... .
I was standing in this incredibly beautiful meadow or pasture ... almost overwhelming.... I was
absolutely part of everything.... I felt such utter shock, amazingly surprised ... there was no
choice ... like I said it hit me like a train. It was the most powerful force I have ever encountered .
. . so powerful beyond anything I could have imagined ... each time I would have a thought of
amazement ... it was just this total connection with everything. There was no hiding and there was
no reason to hide ...
It was very frightening, yeah ... and out of my control. ... I was screaming. It was very scary ...
there was no one to help me ... the only power that could help me was God.... So I just begged
and prayed to that higher force to save my life.... I began to beg for my life and beg God to help
me and untie me from the rope of death that was pulling me in, and continued to kick, beg, and gasp
for life.... It was so powerful, I had incredible fear and yet respect and love for it.

3. Experiencing divine refuge and/or homecoming with extraordinary feelings of

love, acceptance, peace, and joy. The co-researchers also reported experiencing some as-
pect of divine refuge; that is, they felt loved, peaceful, accepted, safe, and protected to a
degree that they had never felt before. Sometimes this theme was expressed in terms of
feeling like one belonged to a divine family, by being overwhelmed and permeated by an
all-powerful wave of unconditional love, by simply experiencing a feeling of incredible
warmth, or by having a sense of being taken care of or helped. One co-researcher whose
experience was primarily terrifying and unpleasant nevertheless retained a feeling of be-
ing rescued by an all-powerful presence, a sense of having been given a second chance
through a divine act of love.
The co-researchers found their encounter with a divine presence to be ultimately pos-
itive. Although other themes may express feelings of fear, doubt, and insignificance con-
cerning one's own stance and personal abilities vis-a-vis the attributes of divine presence,
this final comprehensive constituent theme shows that contact with this presence is emo-
tionally salutary and even ecstatic. Indeed, it is this intense emotional experience that is per-
haps the most memorable element of the encounter for these co-researchers and that creates
the "longing" and desire to experience the encounter again. The four general ways in which
this theme manifested were:
a. Feelings of unconditional acceptance and love.
b. Experiencing comfort, warmth, and safety, including a sense of homecoming or
rescue.
c. Feelings of peace, contentment, and wholeness with a sense of divine plan.
d. Feelings of joy, bliss, and freedom, including a sense of extraordinary beauty.
Examples from the protocols are:
398 TIMOTHY WEST

It started with fear and ended up with huge feelings of love, of acceptance ... there was no right or
wrong .... It's been very important ... to have the experience of not being judged, of not feeling
that I've fucked up, or could have done it better, and the feelings I got were extraordinary feelings
of acceptance the way I was and that I had done a good job.
I never knew that such peace, such bliss could exist. I was totally loved, totally accepted by this
light. ... I felt so safe, and I felt so seen and known and accepted.... Everything was okay ... it
was like someone was there taking care of me and loving me.... I felt the joy, the peace, the deeply,
loving caring glorious energy of that presence.... I was home. I was safe ... it really felt like I had
come home ... and all my little problems were solved.... Everything was okay.
I wasn't overwhelmed or frightened or anything else ... I was just muy contento. I had a peaceful
easy feeling; I mean I was content. ... I'm a free man. I mean I understood, I felt totally forgiven.
No more guilt ... no guilt at all. Nothing to fear.
I felt such sheer joy and love ... as though I'd been hit by a train of unconditional love and for-
giveness. As though God were saying, "Debbie, you are loved and accepted no matter what you do.
I am with you always".... [God was] telling me everything was okay and I was completely loved
and forgiven ... there was absolutely nothing I could do to make Him love me more or any less.
The love was constant, unchanging, pure and absolute. I knew I belonged and was loved no matter
what ... it was very much like going home or something.
I became peaceful .... I was at peace and so thankful. ... I really think something from a higher
force just gave me another chance....

4. Experiencing absolute truth and divine knowledge. The experience of having re-
ceived some form of absolute truth or divine knowledge was reported. Usually, this theme
manifested as a discrete or specific revelation such as experiencing the truth that "we are
never separate from God and can contact him at any time" or experiencing the knowledge
that "one's life is a choice." Several co-researchers reported that specific passages from the
Bible became alive for them because of their new knowledge. The Scriptures now seemed
real and based on experience. Sometimes co-researchers reported coming to a complete un-
derstanding of how all of creation works or experiencing a complete clarity all at once of
everything there was to know. An example of this sense is:
It was like all questions and answers became one.... I became part of yet a grander understanding
... the light of illumination. If you could turn a light bulb on and have all the knowledge, all an-
swers, that would definitely radiate a light of understanding [that's what it was like] ....

In some instances, this "knowledge" theme seemed closely allied with the "transfor-
mation" category, since several co-researchers described the way that they had been
changed by their encounter in terms of the knowledge they had gained from the experience.
Consider this example:
From that day on I experience my life as a choice. I KNOW I am here by choice, that this is an ex-
perience for me to be involved in. There are occasionally times where I will not want to be here
because there's a lot of work. But I'm aware that I made a choice to be here and I'm not actively
looking for any way out. I just stay with it and I know it's just my choice.

This person clearly considers himself psychologically changed by the knowledge that he
now has a choice.
The three main elements of the absolute truth and divine knowledge theme are:
a. The experience of coming to a complete and total understanding of existence all at
once.
b. The experience of acquiring specific knowledge concerning a certain subject.
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 399

c. The experience of a new and more profound understanding of spiritual Scriptures

and teachings.

Examples of these elements are:

I know I will either be reborn here on earth upon awakening or experience once again what I felt
[during my NDE]. ... I understand that I am the internal external self, I'm the pilot and this is my
earth capsule spaceship .... I am now supremely confident and comfortable with the knowledge
that sometime in the future I will return to that light where I am once again free of my earthly flesh.
I felt so relieved to know God was so real and so powerful beyond anything I could have ever imag-
ined .... I always had that terror. You know, that kind of terror that you wake up with in the middle
of the night, that-<>h, I'm gonna die-you know ... since this occurred I've never experienced that
terror ... now it's more the opposite where I'm never alone. Obviously now there's somebody there .
. . . [I know] I'm this spiritual being stuck in this physical body.... I know I have some mission to
perform and each person leads me closer to the light. ... If I had to say which messages were the
most important they were about loving unconditionally and unconditional forgiveness ... and that
all the answers I was looking for I already had within.
I describe [it] as a wave of knowing or awareness of the truth. I received a "course" in how the uni-
verses were constructed and worked.... When you're part of God then you know everything God
knows because you are God ... it seemed like questions but all coming so fast that it was a matter
of forming my attention towards something and realizing that I actually knew all of that ... there
isn't a separateness though we describe it in a separate fashion as we were still outside and separate
from this, separate from God, separate from the knowledge....
In those infinite moments I acquired the knowledge that allowed me to go back to earth to complete
my life .... I learned how to live with my murderer for another fifteen years by learning what I
could from him and leaving the rest. I learned that the most important phenomena in the universe
are love, truth, and the quest for knowledge.

5. Perceiving the experience as ineffable. The co-researchers reported difficulty in

describing their experience. Several of them found their experience to be so extraordinary
and otherworldly that they struggled to find a situation from this world to compare it to.
Two of the co-researchers sum up this frustration:
Being asked about my feelings when I experienced a divine presence, I am immediately at a loss
for words. For my trouble with explaining what I felt is that I am truly speechless. There are no
words, combination of words, or for that matter any things short of experiencing what I know I have
experienced ... as soon as I bring it out into words they're so limiting, it brings it down and it tries
to package something that is boundless, endless, and eternal.
How do you describe an unlimited universe in the limited terms of our universe? That's always been
the hard part .... [I] just never have been able to find words to describe all that because it's not in-
vented in our universe.

This difficulty in verbally capturing the nature of their divine encounter at times
causes experiencers themselves to doubt their own memories and seek validation from oth-
ers. The fact that it is hard to find other people who understand what they have gone
through was mentioned in several protocols to the point that several co-researchers found
themselves comparing their experiences to other NDE reports in order to have some con-
text in which to place their own reports. Several co-researchers mentioned that thoughts
rather than words were used during the encounter to communicate with other beings or the
divine presence.
In sum, mere words and the normal avenues of human communication are found to be
quite limiting and cannot fully describe the grandeur of this phenomenon according to most
of the co-researchers in this study. If, indeed, we use language to help ourselves make sense
400 TIMOTHY WEST

of our experiences, the fact that this experience is largely ineffable for those who undergo
it may account for the difficulty and extended time period required in integrating the en-
counter into one's personality and belief system. The primary ways in which this theme
manifested are:
a. Experiencing difficulty in finding words to accurately describe the experience.
b. The inability to get others to understand the nature of the experience, including the
sensation of doubting one's own memory or sense of the experience.
c. Experiencing the fact that thoughts rather than words are used to communicate dur-
ing the experience.
d. Experiencing the need to compare one's own NDE to other NDE reports for support
or validation.
e. Experiencing difficulty integrating the experience into one's belief system.
Examples from the co-researchers' descriptions include:
I don't remember anything about any tunnels or the trip there.... I didn't see the tunnel or anything
that anybody talks about. ... When you ask me to reduce the experience to feelings, it is difficult
because even to place the experience into words seems insulting because of the magnitude of the
event. ... I can't put it into words.... I'm simply at a loss as to describe how I felt at that moment.
... There simply are no words to describe Him ... this sounds bizarre but ... I communicated with-
out speaking .... [Things were] pointed out to me in a way no words could have ever communi-
cated....
It is very difficult to describe the experience in words, the closest word for it is a miracle.... I
guess I was in shock and needed some kind of assurance that this realy happened ... telling the
story to someone, telling what I went through, yeah, I was really seeking that. ... I remember it
wasn't really enough talking to the neighbor, but it was a validation that I hadn't lost my mind, this
was really something that had happened....
You know, we're trying to relate it to our eyes and vision ... there's no other words for that. And it
was so much greater than anything I've ever experienced in a physical body that, you know, it's
again limited terms here.... I realized right away that if! said anything out of the ordinary they
might think I had brain damage or something.... I went through periods of thinking I was crazy
'cause there was no support at that time.
I can't even describe it, I can't even describe it. ... You know, people always try to describe these
things ... it is just nothing really works.

6. Perceiving the experience as a personal message. The co-researchers also ex-

pressed the feeling that their divine encounter was personally meant for them or that the ex-
perience had a purpose that spoke uniquely to them as an individual. For example, one
co-researcher felt she had been allowed to come back to this life in order ''to be a mother to
my baby," that the divine presence had granted her wish so that she might fulfill a personal
destiny. As she says:
I was really grateful. I was really happy to be back. Yeah, I knew it was right.

Others also felt that their experience was personally tailored for them, that the en-
counter was uniquely individual and meant to speak directly to one's special needs:
I doubt very much if you're exposed to more than you can assimilate. I imagine that you are given
what you can handle and not more than you can handle.

Along these same lines, these two individuals saw their experience as a kind of "wake-
up call" in which it was pointed out to them that they needed to change certain ways of do-
ing things or to incorporate a specific piece of knowledge into their lives in order to better
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 401

fulfill a divine destiny. Another co-researcher reported feeling challenged by his experience
to bring more harmony and love to the world:
I think one of the great frustrations I have is trying to work with that understanding of the uncon-
ditionallove and acceptance ... which is the challenge and the journey.... That's what the world
needs more of and that's what I live to bring: that peace, that love, and that universal harmony ...
there's got to be action.

Several experiencers expressed feelings of profound gratitude and reported a sense

that they had been personally graced by being allowed to have had the experience. Others
found the encounter to be so personally profound and moving that they knew they would
never forget the experience and in fact periodically found themselves accessing the mem-
ory for personal comfort, validation, or support. One co-researcher, in fact, felt his experi-
ence to be so unique and private that he asked that his protocol not be published so that its
sacred nature would not be violated or disrespected. In sum, the co-researchers reported
their encounters with a divine presence to have a personally directed quality that manifested
in several different ways, including these:
a. Experiencing the encounter as a unique directive concerning one's personal destiny.
b. Experiencing the encounter as unforgettable.
c. Experiencing the encounter as a wake-up call.
d. Experiencing the ability to access the memory of the encounter for personal com-
fort and support.
e. Experiencing one's life being assessed.
f. Experiencing an intense feeling of good fortune and grace to have had the encounter.
g. Experiencing the realization that the NDE makes perfect sense in terms of one's
historical background.
h. Experiencing the fact that one's prayers or wishes were granted by the divine presence.
Examples of this theme are:
And something has driven me from that day that, even where we are sitting right now is part of that.
... I mean for me to understand that things have happened that I don't even know about. ... [I] dis-
tinctly remember feeling grateful. ... I made the conscious decision to live, and for whatever pur-
pose, it's ongoing right now and I know it. ... Each and every day since I had this experience I
awaken with the same sense of rebirth ... it's a good strong healthy place to visit, and that's where
I go when I go to bed,
I do firmly believe that I brought back some of that love with me. Maybe it was always there but I
needed a big jolt to find it ... it was as though I was being told, you know, this is a big area that you
need to change, that you need to adjust your perception of everything .... I know I have some mis-
sion to perform and ... I am real grateful. ... I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. It's
like that pain had a purpose.
I knew God bad released me from the electric power and gave me a second chance .... Thank you!
I am living and kind of celebrating my life. I can drink orange juice again.... It's an experience that
I will never forget. Every time I become depressed or sad about something I do remember that ex-
perience and I have a whole different perspective.
It was communicated to me that I had to go back, that I had a great deal more to do on earth .... I
was brought to that point for some reason, to see that perspective.... I've learned a lot about my-
self from the experience since then.... And I chose to accept it because it wouldn't go away, and it
still hasn't.

7. Perceiving the experience as transformational. The co-researchers reported that, in

some way, they felt changed by their encounter with a divine presence. As with all the final
 402 TIMOTHY WEST

comprehensive constituent themes in this study, the details that comprise this part of their
experience vary widely. Five co-researchers, however, agreed in their reports that, in gen-
eral, the divine encounter had a ''tremendous impact" on their lives. This impact varied
from experiencing difficulty in adjusting to this world after their encounter to experienc-
ing a new appreciation of children to being able to play the church organ with greater pro-
ficiency. Three co-researchers revealed that they had no fear of death because of their
experience, a phenomenon that is often reported in the near-death literature. One co-
researcher even reported that the experience prompted her to enter a recovery program for
alcoholism.
In general, the aftereffects of the co-researchers' experiences appear to be positive, al-
though two of them reported experiencing frustration and a lack of reinforcement for their
new perspectives, and one experienced intense rejection and judgement during the period
immediately following his encounter. Moreover, one should not forget that these co-
researchers often experience physical aftereffects, frequently in terms of a painful and long-
term recovery from injuries or surgery. This theme manifested itself in three general ways:
a. Difficulties readjusting to the realities of this world, including a sense of feeling
"incomplete."
b. Newly acquired abilities, sensitivities, talents, or awareness.
c. Changes in attitudes, interests, and/or beliefs.
Examples of this theme are:
It's been very important to me since I came back to have the experience of not being judged ...
the significance of right or wrong or doing a good job or not doing a good job or fucking up or evil
and good is shifting, has shifted ever since then in me, and I'm not-I know, personally, I'm not as
judgmental and I am less interested in hanging out with or listening to the people who are judg-
mental. ...
[There is] a peacefulness that will travel with me the rest of my life ... there is a tear that resides next
to this for not being able to express or accept the peace that I have experienced in this presence....
I think one of the greatest frustrations I have is trying to work with that understanding of the uncon-
ditionallove and acceptance and know it's there, and at the same time, be human, which is the chal-
lenge and the journey. There's this pure love that I want to radiate outward and I know there's not too
much reinforcement that will nurture it.
I was so awestruck by my experience, it really helped me get through the first phase of recovery..
. . I was a Christian prior to this experience, but since this happened, I have an even more mean-
ingful and personal relationship with Jesus as my Savior ... because He was more theory before I
had this experience ... it was more theory than being real. And then I had just absolute knowledge
after this experience which has really helped me get through my lifetime now.... I have total con-
fidence in a literal heaven and have no fear of death....
I do firmly believe that I brought some of that love with me.... I don't feel the same about other
people now. Many times I'll see a complete stranger and feel such love for them or I look at some-
one I don't know and I'll start praying for them. It's like people just don't look the same to me....
I just thought the Bible was a book and Jesus was some guy in history.... And now it's like I can't
hear the Bible, the Scripture read, without just getting totally overcome.

From these protocols, we can begin to appreciate the intensity, depth, and range that
characterize the encounter with a divine presence during a near-death experience. Perhaps
what is most striking about this experience, among its many extraordinary qualities, is the
profoundly personal and deeply transformative effects it has had on the co-researchers. It is
as though all experiencers, appreciating the fact that they have been allowed contact with a
reality so extraordinarily transcendent, feel as though they have been given a special
ENCOUNTER WITH A DIVINE PRESENCE 403

"gift"-or "peek in the box," as one co-researcher put it. It is not surprising that all the co-
researchers spoke either in their protocols or privately of the problems in sharing with oth-
ers whom they did not know well an experience that is so uncommon and personal.
In my synthesis of the seven final comprehensive constituent themes, the following es-
sential structural definition or fundamental essence of the experience of encountering a di-
vine presence during a near-death experience emerged:
One perceives an ineffable out-of-body sensation during which there occurs an awe-inspiring meet-
ing with an all-loving and infinitely powerful atmosphere or presence. This contact with the divine
is characterized by such infinite power, loving acceptance, and complete immersion in feelings of
well-being or safety that one emerges with a knowledge of ultimate reality that is at odds with what
one has experienced in day-to-day life. The experience engenders intense feelings of gratitude, a
sense of grace, and a sense of a private and personal communication with and acquisition of know1-
edge from a divine source. The indescribable and extraordinary nature of the experience that ac-
companies the wide range of its positive effects can also make it difficult for one to readjust to
normal life. The experience is characterized by producing such dramatically changed attitudes and
awarenesses that one who undergoes it often develops life-changing commitments to pursuits of
spiritual value, and a new, experientially grounded belief concerning divine salvation and afterlife.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

In addition to offering support for past characterizations ofNDEs in general, the re-
sults of this study suggest a number of new ways to understand the nature of a divine en-
counter during a near-death experience. I offer the following conclusions based on the
results of this phenomenological inquiry:
1. It appears that "divine presence" comes in many forms other than "the light" and,
in fact, appears to be available throughout the entire near-death experience.
2. No one event in the experience was singled out by the co-researchers as being any
more powerful or transformative than any other.
3. The divine encounter in near-death experience is an exclusively private and per-
sonal communication and, as such, cannot be evaluated objectively from an outside
perspective. The locus of evaluation for any measure of depth, completeness, or
meaning of the experience must ultimately reside within the experiencer.
4. The themes regarding divine knowledge and experiencing grace in perceiving the
experience as a personal message are underrepresented in the previous literature. In
the whole of Moody's (1975) and Ring's (1980) NDE prototypes, these elements
are mentioned only once.
5. The divine encounter in near-death experience, rather than showing a predictable
structure or sequence of events, is best appreciated or defined in terms of themes
that can embrace a wide variety of occurrences, including terrifying experiences.
6. Any speculation concerning ultimate outcomes or teleologies regarding where the
near-death "continuum" leads, especially in a hierarchical sense, is best left to the
experiencer and his or her learning from the event.
7. The "myths of near-death experience" as elaborated by Atwater (1994) are becom-
ing so well known in the culture at large that experiencers often compare their en-
counters to other reports or hearsay of what the experiences should be like. This can
be used either to validate or to question their own experience.
 404 TIMOTHY WEST

8. Traditional spiritual teachings appear to have numerous concordances with the ma-
terial elicited in these co-researchers'protocols. A foundation for a unified spiritual
vision or truth, much like that of the traditions rooted in the perennial wisdom, ap-
pears to exist in the reports of these experiencers.
9. The phenomenon of the divine encounter during a near-death experience belongs
squarely in the category of mystical experience as defined by several researchers.
This being the case, perhaps we need to consider NDE as an event having more to
do with living than with dying. That is, as Bache (1994) suggests, perhaps we must
separate our notions about NDE from the context of death to understand it more
fully. Clearly, the message and knowledge inherent in the events reported by the co-
researchers in the study have ostensibly more to do with improving how one may
live one's life than with the process of death itself.
As a modem form of mystical experience that is involuntarily experienced by men and
women, young and old, from all walks of life, and apparently without predilection, the di-
vine encounter during a near-death experience can be an overwhelming, ecstatic, life-trans-
forming, and disturbing event. It indelibly impresses upon the experiencer that one is not
ultimately in control of one's destiny, and that identification with one's body, with the con-
ditions of the physical world, and with the relationships with one's most intimate loved ones
is temporary at best. The experience can be a jolting change to one's system of reference, as
well as a teasing glimpse of the divine realm with its extraordinary love and acceptance.
Whether this is a boon, a bane, or a mixed blessing is an assessment only the experiencer
can make, perhaps in his or her most private moments.
NDErs who encounter a divine presence describe their experience in a passionate and
moving way. They often claim that what they have seen has nothing to do with sectarian re-
ligions, theologies, or dogmas. Their encounter is, they would say, a direct experience of the
divine without mediation or interpretation-a purely spiritual or mystical phenomenon.
This inquiry has shown, from the testimony of the co-researchers themselves, that the
ultimate meaning of an encounter with a divine presence during a near-death experience
lies in its intensely subjective nature and its ongoing evaluation by the individual who has
experienced it. The task of eliciting this meaning, and any benefits that it may have for oth-
ers, requires an approach that mirrors the reported qualities of the divine presence itself,
that is, a bearing of open acceptance and nonjudgment. This is what the phenomenological
approach provides.

REFERENCES

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Bache, C. (1994). The perinatal interpretation of frightening near-death experiences. Journal ofNear-Death Stud-
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Bush, N. E. (1994). The paradox of Jonah: Response to "solving the riddle of frightening near-death experiences."
Journal ofNear-Death Studies, 13,47-54.
Colaizzi, P. F. (1978). Psychological research as the phenomenologist views it. In R. S. Valle and M. King (Eds.),
Existential-phenomenological alternatives for psychology (pp. 48-71). New York: Oxford University Press.
Evans-Wentz, W. (Ed.). (1957). The Tibetan book of the dead. New York: Oxford University Press.
Moody, R. (1975). Life after life. New York: Bantam Books.
Moody, R. (1977). Reflections on life after life. New York: Bantam Books.
Moody, R. (1988). The light beyond. New York: Bantam Books.
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Morse, M. (1992). Transformed by the light. New York: Ballantine Books.

Rawlings, M. (1993). To hell and back. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson.
Ring, K. (1980). Life at death: A scientific investigation ofthe near-death experience. New York: Quill.
Ring, K. (1984). Heading toward omega. New York: William Morrow.
Ring, K (1994). Solving the riddle of near-death experiences: Some testable hypotheses and a perspective based
onA course in miracles. Journal ofNear-Death Studies, 13, 5-23.
Sabom, M. (1982). Recollections of death: A medical investigation. New York: Harper & Row.
van Kaam, A. (1966). Existentialfoundations ofpsychology. Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press.
Vincent, K. R. (1994). Visions of God from the near-death experience. Burdett, NY: Lanson Publications.
von Eckartsberg, R. (1986). Life-world experience: EXistential-phenomenological research approaches in psy-
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Webster s new world dictionary. (1988). New York: Simon & Schuster.
West, T. (1996). On the experience of encountering a divine presence during a near-death experience: A phenom-
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 Name Index

Aanstoos, c., 18, 19,53, 59 Bach-y-Rita, G., 211, 224 Braun, B. G., 210,222,224, 225
Abramowitz, S., 210, 211, 224 Bacon, M., 161, 173 Brentano, F., 178, 180, 183, 184,
Addison, R. 8., xiii, xv Bailey, D. E., 179, 180, 20 1,207 205
Adlerstein, A., 361, 370 Barks, C., 321, 333 Bretall, R., 359, 370
Aeschylus, 102, 103, 108 Barry, H., 161, 173 Broad, C. D., 283, 306
Aiken, L. R., 177, 205 Bartlett, G .. 368, 370 Broucek, F. J., 123, 124, 125,
Albers, R. H., 123, 124, 126, Barton, A., 18, 19 154
154 Bauer, L., 231, 237, 246 Brown, L., 269
Alexander, I., 361, 370 Becker, c., 125, 127, 152, 154, Brown, R., 29, 59
Allport,G. w., 179, 180, 199, 341,354,357 Brown, T., 311, 320
205,248,249,250,252, Belenky, M. F., 160, 173 Buber, M., 231, 246, 250, 269,
260,262,265,269 Bern, S. L., 161, 169, 173 323,333
Almaas, A. H .. 375, 376, 378, Benedict, R., 126, 154 Bucke, R. M., 283, 306, 392,
383,385 Benjamin, J., 368, 370 393
AI-Mabuk, R., 229, 246 Berger, B., 10, 19 Buckley, F. M., 50, 60, 241, 246
American Psychiatric Associa- Berger, P., 10, 19 Bugental, J., ix, 284, 307
tion, 211, 212, 224 Bergman, A., 160, 174 Burton, A., 362, 363, 370
Anderson, G., 210, 212, 225 Bergson, H., 305, 306 Bush, N. E., 389, 404
Anderson, R., xi Bernay, T., 161, 172, 173 Buss, A. H., 125, 127, 154
Angel, E., 3, 19 Bingham, M. w., 159, 171, 173 Butler, L., 360, 370
Aquinas, T., 121, 122,254,374, Binswanger, 191, 361 Butler, R. N., 363, 370
384 Bjornson, L., 210, 225
Archer-Copp, A., 336, 357 Bliss, E. L., 212, 224 Cady, S., 247, 260, 270
Aries, P., 368, 370 Block,J., 161, 173 Campbell, 1., 239, 281, 360, 370
Aristotle, 100, 108 Blume, E. S., 211, 212,224 Cantor, D. w., 161, 172, 173
Arrien, A., 171 Bly, R., 321, 333 Carol, J., 210, 211, 224
Arthur, A. Z., 202, 205 Bockle, F., 336, 357 Carse, 1. P., 368, 370
Atwater, P. M., 388, 389, 391, Boff, L., 369, 370, 377, 385 Cassidy, S., 361, 370
392,393,403,404 Bohm, D., 286, 304, 305, 306 Castaneda, C., 178, 205, 321,
Au, P., 249, 270 Bolen, J. S., 159, 173,285,306 333
Augustine, St., 374, 375, 383, Bourgeois, P. L., xv Cataldi, S. L., xiii, xv
384 Bowman, E. S., 210, 224 Chaney, E. M., 159, 171, 173
Aurobindo, 374, 385 Boyarin, D., 253, 265, 269 Charon, 1., 361, 370
Ausubel, D. P., 126, 152, 154 Bracket, c., 323, 333 Chattopadhyaya, D. P., xv
Bradshaw, 1. E., 123, 125, 126, Cheek, N. H., 249, 270
Bache, C., 404 154 Child, 1.,161,173
Bachofen, J. J., 158, 173 Braud, W., xi Chodorow, N., 160, 161, 173

407
408 NAME INDEX

Churchill, S. D., vii, xix, xx, I, Dreyer, E., 374, 383, 385 Freedman, S. R., 229, 246
63,65,67,71,80,83,84, Dreyfus, H. L., xiii, xv Frenz, A., 374, 378, 385
109,175,176,182,187, Duffy, J., 231,237,246 Freud, S., 79, 84, 92, 93. 108,
188,189,193,205 122,124, 125, 126, 154,
Clarke, J., 284, 285, 304, 307 Edwards, D. G., 124, 154 159, 160,228,251,254,
Clarke, P. J., 362, 370 Eisler, R., 158, 173,247,253, 274,361
Clinchy, B. M., 160, 173 269 Friedrich, C., 95
Clingaman, D., 255, 270 Eissler, K. R., 361, 362, 368, Friesen, V. 1.,125,154
Cloonan, T., 41,60 370 Frings, M., 8, 10, 19
Close, H., 229, 246 Elite, 0., vii, xxi, 271, 309, 364, From, F., 181, 206
Colaizzi, P. F., I, 18, 19,23,30, 377,383,384,385,394 Fuller, A. R., xiii, xv
31,32,33,34,35,36,37, Ellenberger, H., I, 19
39,42,43,60,65,84, 161, Embree, L., xv, xvii Gadamer, H., 18, 19, 52, 60, 82,
162,164,165, 173, 191, Emde, R. N., 125, 154 84,231,232,246
205,217,224,287,289, Enelow, A. J., 176, 205 Gahagan, J. P., 229, 246
307,312,320,325,334, Enright, R. D., 229, 246 Galley, H., 385
341,357,364,370,380, Erikson, E. H., 176, 248, 269 Gassin, E. A., 229, 246
385,393,394,404 Erion, E. H., 269 Geller, L., 247, 260, 269
Colli ander, T., 310, 320 Evans-Wentz, W., 393, 404 Gilligan, C., 160, 161, 170,
Combs, A. w., 179, 205 173
Cone, J. H., 247, 260, 269 Favazza, A. R., 212, 224 Gimbutas, M., 158, 173
Connors, K., 222, 224 Feifel, H., 362, 369, 370 Giorgi, A., 1,4,6,16,17,18,
Coomaraswamy, A. K., 305, 307 Feigenberg, L., 363, 370 19, 23, 30, 36, 38, 39, 40,
Coons, P. M., 210, 211, 212, 224 Feinstein, A. R., 176, 205 41,42,43,44,45,47,48,
Costa, P. T., 361, 370 Fell, J. P., 154 49,60,65,81,84,115,122,
Coursey, R. D., 251, 266, 269 Fessler, R., 50, 60 128,154,161,173,183,
Cramer, P., 177,205 Festinger, L., 353, 357 191,202,206.217,224,
Crites, D., 25, 60 Feuerstein, G., 253, 269 228,231,246,255,269,
Csikszentmihalyi, M., 53, 60, Fine, B. D., 79, 84 286,307,341,357,364,
284,303,307 Fine, C. G., 212, 224 370.379,385
Culiner, T., 224 Fischer, C. T., vii, xix, 17, 19, Glick, S., 322, 334
109, III, 115, 116, 122, Goldberger, N. R., 160. 173
Dana, R. H., 199,205 177, 199,205,206,255, Goldenberg, N., 249, 254, 255,
Dann, O. T., 125, 154 269 265,269
Dante, xv Fischer, K. W., 123, 124, 125, Goleman, D., 311, 320
Darwin, C. R., 124, 154 126,154,155 Gorden, R. L., 179, 206
Davies, E., 231, 232, 246 Fischer, W. F., I, 16, 18,19,23, Gorman, P., 363, 371
Davis, K. E., 181, 206 44,45,46,47,48,60,65, Gould, c., 214, 224
Davitz, J., 127, 154 84,128, 154, 191,206 Gove, P. B., 158, 173, 374, 385
de Beauvoir, S.. 254, 269 Fitzgibbons, R. P., 229, 246 Govinda, L., 306, 307
de Chardin, T., 284, 285, 304, Flanigan, B., 230, 246 Gowack, P., vii, xxi, 272, 373
307 Fortini, A., 369, 370 Graham-Costain. v., 214, 224
Deikman, A., 318, 320 Fossum, M. A., 123, 124, 125, Greaves, G., 210, 21 L 224
Delius, H., 84 154 Green, A. H., 210, 224
Denmark, F. L., 158, 173 Foster, S., 310, 320 Greer, G., 159, 173
de Rivera, J., 18, 19, 50, 60, 120, Foucault, M., 178, 206 Grevengoed, N., 251, 266, 270
122, 124, 125 Fountain, E., 231,237,246 Groddeck, G., 92, 93, 108
Denzin, N. K., 121, 122 Fowler, J. W., 248, 249, 250, Gross, S. H., 159, 171, 173
DiBiasio, F. A., 229, 246 252,260,262,265,266, Grunebaum, H. U., 210, 211,
Dietch, J., 323, 334 269 224
Dilthey, W., 84,180,184,187, Fox, M., 266, 268, 269 Gurwitsch, A., 7,19,36,58,60,
193,205 Francis, St., 369, 385 185,186,187,191,206
Diner, H., 158, 173 Frankl, V., 284, 302, 307, 337,
Dinnerstein, D., 161, 173 357 Hackett, T. P., 362, 371
Dionysius, 252 Fransen, P., 374, 385 Haecker, T., 378, 385
Doyle, E., 369, 370 Fraser, G. A., 210, 225 Haller, D. L., 177,206
NAME INDEX 409

Halling, S., vii, ix, xi, xiii, xv, Jaquette,J., 159, 171, 174 Lang, P., 114, 122
xx, 50, 60, 110,227,228, Jaspers, K., 5, 231, 246 Lanyon, R. I., 177, 202, 206
231,232,237,246,255, John of the Cross, St., 252, 253, Lavrin, A., 158, 159, 174
269,273,275,277,279, 270,323 Leary, T., 53, 60
286,287,307,340,357, Johnston, R. C., 359, 370 Leibniz, G. W., 180
379,385 Jones, E., 246 Leifer, M., 231, 232, 237, 246,
Hamlyn, D. W., 179,206 Jones, E. E., 181,206,231,237 255,269
Hammond, K. R., 177,202,206 Jones, M. 1., 260, 269 Lerner, G., 158, 159, 170, 174,
Hanna, F. 1., 176, 206 Jones, W., 247, 251, 266, 270 247,270
Hanson, D., vii, xx, 271, 281 Jordan, J. v., 158, 174 Levinas, E., 181, 206
Harper,1. M., 123, 124, 125, 154 Joseph, F., 361, 362, 370 Levine, S., 361, 363, 369, 371
Harper, R., 323, 334 Jung, C. G., 254, 269, 271, 274, Lewin, M., 64, 84
Hastings, J., 310, 320 276,281,282,283,284, Lewis, H. B., 124, 125, 126, 154
Hathaway, W., 251, 266, 270 285,302,304,307 Lewis, M., 123, 125, 154, 155
Hawka, S. M., 322, 334 Jung, E., 159, 168, 169, 174 Liddell, G. L., 100, 103, 108
Heber, S., 212, 225 Liderbach, D., 374, 383, 384,
Heckler, R. A., 360, 370 Kahaner, L., 213, 224 385
Heidegger, M., 5, 8, II, 14, 19, Kallistos, W., 311, 320 Lifton, R. J., 361, 371
36,65,66,81,84,175,181, Kant, I., 180 Lincoln, Y. S., 121, 122
184,186,191,202,206, Kaplan, A. G., 158, 174 Lindsay-Hartz, 1.,123,124,125,
276,286,307,340,359, Kastenbaum, R., 361, 370 126, 127, 155
360,369,370,379,385 Kaufman, G., 123, 124, 125, Lipps, T., 179, 206
Heisenberg, W., 306, 307 126,154 Little, M., 310, 320
Hemphill, H. A., 169, 172, 174 Keen, E., 18, 19 Locke, J., 180
Herzog, E., 359, 370 Kellner, H., 10, 19 Loevinger,J., 161, 169, 174
Hesiod,99, 101, 103, 108 Kennell, 1., 251, 266, 270 Loewenstein, R. 1., 212, 224
Hiester, J. T., 229, 246 Kidd, 1. W., xiii, xv Loftus, E. F., 213, 222, 224
Hoagland, S. L., 257, 269 Kidd, S. D., xiii, xv Lowery, J. E., vii, xix, 1,63,64,
Holt, R. R., 176, 177,200,201, Kierkegaard, S., 5, 11,359,378 67,69,78,79,80,84
202,206 King, M., ix, x, xi, xiii, xv, 18, Luckmann, T., 10, 19
Holtzman, W. H., 180, 202, 206 20,273,275,279,340,357, Luijpen, W, 5, 19
Holzer, M., 231, 237, 246 379,385 Lynd, H. M., 124, 125, 126, 155
Hoopes, M. H., 123, 124, 125, King, W., 378, 385
154 Klausner, E., 211, 225 Maccoby, E., 161, 174
Homey, K., 160, 174 Klein, E., 94,108 Macquarrie, J., 360, 371
Hunter, R. c., 228, 246 Klein, M., 160, 174 Maes, c., 18, 19
Hursch, C. J., 202, 206 Klerman, G. L., 210, 211, 224 Mahler, M., 160, 174
Husserl, E., xv, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, Klimo, J., vii, xx, 271, 281 Marcel, G., 5, 230, 246, 361
11,13,14,19,29,30,65, Klinger, E., 18, 19,53,60 Marks, P. A., 177,206
66,84,164,175,176,177, Kluft, R. P., 210, 212, 224 Martyn, D. W., 228, 246
180,181,184.185,186, Knowles, R., 17, 19 Mascolo, M. F., 124, 125, 155
187, 189, 191,206,287, Koehler, W., 180 Maslow, A., 285, 302, 306, 307,
307,311,320, 359, 370, Kohlberg, L., 248, 270 310,320,323,376,377,
378,385 Koltuv, V. S., 169, 174 378,383,384,385
Huxley, A., 277, 279, 283, 307 Kortsep, K., 255, 270 Mason, M. J., 123, 124, 125, 154
Kracklauer, c., 50, 60 Matsu-Pissot, c., vii, xxi, 272,
Ihde, D., 18, 19 Kubler-Ross, E., 361, 363, 370, 321
Isenberg, A., 125, 154 369,371 May, H., 278, 279
Izard, C. E., 124, 125, 127, 154 Kugler, B., 255, 270 May, R., x, 3, 19
Kuhn, T., I, 19 McCandless, S., 158, 173
Jacklin, C., 161, 174 Kunkel, K., 368, 371 McClelland, D., 29, 60
Jackson, L. E., 251, 266, 269 Kunz, G., 232, 246, 255, 269 McCullough, M. E., 230, 246
Jager, B., vii, xix, 1,50,60,87 McGovern, J. P., 337, 357
James, W., 180, 200, 206, 283, Lacan, 1., 80, 84 McManus, P., 172, 174
307,374,384,385,391 Laing, R. D., 81, 84,138,154 McNally, 0., vii, xix, 1,63,71,
Janet, P., 212 Lamberton, R., 100, 108 78,80
410 NAME INDEX

McWilliams, N., 177,206 Pahnke, w., 376, 377, 383, 384, Ring, K., 360, 371, 388, 389,
Mead, M., 124, 125, 126, 155, 385 390,391,403,405
161,174 Palmer, G., 311, 320 Rinpoche, S., 311, 320, 321,
Mechnikov, I., 361 Palmer, P., 231, 246 334
Meher Baba, 331 Palmer, R., 18, 19, 52, 60 Rinzler, C., 211, 225
Meissner, W. w., 375, 384, 385 Pargament, K. 1.,251,266,270 Rizutto, A. M., 248, 250, 251,
Merleau-Ponty, M., 5, 6, 8, II, Park, M. S., 255, 270 270
12,13,19,80,82,84,124, Parkes, G., xv Robbins, A., 362, 371
155,187,202,203,206 Patton, J., 230, 246 Robinson, F. A., vii, xx, 109,
Merrell-Wolff, E, 277, 279 Paul, St., 374, 393 209,218,225
Metz, J. B., 336, 357 Pazder, L., 213, 225 Rogers, C., 179, 207
Metzger, B., 278, 279 Petrullo, L., 179, 181, 207 ROn:'anyshyn, R., 18, 19, 50, 60
Michelangelo, 90 Piaget, J., 248, 270 Ronan, M., 247. 260, 270
Middleton-Moz, l, 123, 124, 155 Picard, M., 310, 320 Roof, J. L., 249,270
Miller, E, 170, 174 Pine, E, 160, 174 Roof, W. C., 249, 270
Miller, J. B., 158, 168, 174 Pitman, R., 211, 224 Rooney, A. J., 230, 244, 246
Miller, S., 123, 124, 125, 126. Plato, 252, 254 Rosen, P. M., 212, 225
127, 155,210 Polanyi, M., 176, 206 Rosenstock-Huessy, E., 15, 19,
Miller, S. D., 225 Polka, J., 231,246 191
Milstein, Y., 210, 212, 224 Polkinghome, D. E., 18, 19, 65, Rosenthal, H. R., 361, 371
Mischel, T., 181,206 84, 162, 164, 174,289,307, Rosenthal, R. l, 211, 225
Mishler, E. G., 379. 385 341,357 Rosenzweig, S., 179, 207
Mohanty, J., xv Pollio, H., 43, 60 Ross, C. A., 210, 212, 225
Monrich, H., 322, 334 Potter-Efron, R. T., 123, 124, Ross. L. M., 364, 371
Moody, R., 388, 391, 392, 393, 125,155 Rowe, l 0., vii, xx, 110.227,
403,404 Powers, D., 231, 232, 246 231,232,237,246
Moore, B. E., 79, 84 Progoff, I., 285, 307 Roy, A., 210, 211, 225
Morano, D. Y., 125, 155 Prometheus, 99, 100, 101, 102, Rumi, 321, 330, 333
Morrison, l, 177,206 103, 104, 105
Morse, M., 389, 391, 392, 393, Putnam, E W., 211, 212, 225 Sabom, M., 388, 405
405 Pythagoras, 310 Sachs, R. G., 222, 225
The Mother, 375, 383, 384, 385 Sadowy, D., 362, 371
Mother Teresa, 360, 363, 369, Qualls, P. A., vii, xxi, 272, 335 Sandler, l, 250, 270
371 Santos, M. J., 229, 246
Motto, J. A., 323, 334 Radnitzky, G., 180, 206 Sarbin, T. R., 179, 180, 20 I ,
Moustakas, C., 65, 84 Ram Dass, 363, 369, 371 207
Muktananda, Swami, 321, 334 Rama, Swami, 273 Sartre,J.-P.,5,8, II, 12, 13, 19,
Mulrenin, K., vii, xx, 110,247 Ramana Maharshi, 311, 320, 48, 56, 60, 67, 84, 120, 122,
Murray, E., 15. 17, 19 373,385 184,207
Ramge, S. Y., 266, 270 Sattler, 1. M., 125, 155
Natanson, M., 10, 15, 19,67,84 Randour, M. L., 248, 251, 266, Schafer, R., 179, 207, 250, 270
Nathanson, D. L., 123, 124, 125, 270 Schaffer, C., 210, 211, 224
126,155 Rao, A., vii, xix, I, 63, 75, 78, Scheler, M., 5, 8, 10, 13, 19,
Nelsen, H. M., 249, 270 79,80,84 124, 155, 191
Neswald, D. W., 214, 224 Rawlings, M., 388, 405 Schimmel, A., 330, 334
Newcombe, N., 323, 334 Reagor, P., 210, 225 Schneier, S., 329, 334
Newman, J., 251, 266, 270 Reich, w., 180, 206 Schneider, C. D., 124, 125, 127,
Nichols, M. P., 123, 155 Reichenbach, B., 378, 385 155
Nietzsche, E w., II Reik, T., 179, 207 Schutz, A., 8, 9, 10, 19, 20, 36,
Norton, G. R., 212, 225 Renneker, R. E., 362, 371 60,67, 79, 84, 178, 182,
Norton, J., 361, 362, 371 Rich, A., x, xi 186,191,207
Richards, w., 376, 377, 383, Scott, R., 100, 103, 108
Oppenheim, D., 125, 154 384,385 Seeman, W., 177, 206
Ricoeur, P., 5, 18, 19, 50, 51, 52, Shams ofTabriz, 321, 330
Packer, M. J., xiii, xv 60,186,207,289,307 Shapiro, K. l, 66, 84
Pagels, E. H., 249, 270 Riezler, K., 125, 127, 155 Shaver, l H., 124, 155
NAME INDEX 411

Sherrard, P., 311, 320 Tangri, S. S., 158, 173 Vincent, K. R., 389, 390, 391,
Shertock, T., vii, xx, 109, 157, Tarule, J. M., 160, 173 392,393,405
158,174 Taussig, H., 247, 260, 270 von Eckartsberg, R., vii, xvii,
Sherwood, G., 354, 357 Tavris, C., 114, 122 xix, 1,3,9, 1\.14.16,19.
Shneidman, E. S., 363, 370 Tedeschi, J. T., 229, 246 20,21,22,24,25.46,50,
Shoenberg, B., 378, 385 Teresa of Avila. St., 266, 323 52.60.65.85,128. ISS,
Singer, J., 159, 174 Thompson, H., 160, 174 165,174.191,207,255,
Skinner, B. F., 274, 279 Tillich, P., 329, 334 270,340,357,379,386,
Smith, D., 17. 19 Titchener, E. B., 179 394,405
Smith, M., 225 Titelman, P., 50, 51, 60
Snygg, D., 179, 205 Todd, F. J., 202, 206 Wachterhauser, B. R., xiii, xv
Socrates, 3 I 0 Tomkins, S. S., 126, 155 Walker, A., 247, 270
Sokolowski, R., 82, 84 Walsh, B. W., 212, 225
Solimar, V., 322, 323, 334, 376, Ulanov, A. B., 159, 168, 174 Walsh, M. R., 159, 174
384,385 Underhill, E., 252, 253, 265, Walsh, R., 211, 225
Solomon, R. c., 125, 155 270,283,307 Wangyal, G., 321, 334
Spence, D. P., 84 Watkins, R. T., 222, 225
Spensley, J., 210, 211, 224 Valle, R., vii, x, xi, xv, xx. 3, 18, Watson, J., 339, 357
Sperry, L., 177, 207 20,21,63,87, III, 123, Watson, P., 374, 386
Spiegelberg, H., 3, 5, 7, 11,20, 157,175,209,227,247, Weinmann, L. L., 323, 334
64,82,84,176,207 248,270,271,273,275, Weisman, A. D., 362, 363, 371
Spretnak, C., 247, 260, 270 276,277,279,281,286, Welwood, J., 286, 306, 324, 334
Stace, W. T., 283, 307 287,307,309,313,318, Wertz,F.J.,17,18,19,20,22,
Starck, P. L., 337, 357 319, 320, 321, 335, 340, 23, 53, 60, 65, 66, 81, 83,
StarDancer, C., 213, 225 357,359,363,369,371, 85, 115, 122, 163, 174, 255,
Stein, E. V., 323, 334 373,379,385,387 269
Steindl-Rast, D., 310, 320 Valle, V. A., vii, ix, xvii, xxi, West, T., vii, xxi, 272, 387, 393,
Stephen, D. L., 363, 371 272,373 405
Stevens, E. P., 158, 159, 171, Vallelonga, D. S., vii, xx, 109, West, T. B., vii, xxi, 272, 359
174 123, 125, 126, 128, 133, Whitehead, A. N., 305, 307
Stevick, E. L., 120, 122 134,142,148,149, 150, Wiens, A., 179, 207
Stierlin, H., 125, 155 155 Wilber, K., 278, 279
Stiver, I. P., 158, 174 Van Benschoten, S. C., 213, 214, Wilson, C., 286, 307
Stone, M., 247, 270 223,225 Winnicott, D. w., 250, 270
Strasser, S., 4, 20, 231, 246 van Bronkhorst, J., 231, 232, Wolfe, T. C., 101, 108
Straus, E. w., 124, 127, 155 246 Woodman, M., 159, 174
Sullivan, H. S., 177, 199,200, van den Berg, J. H., 85 Worthington, E. L., 229, 230,
205,207 van der Kolk, B. A., 212, 225 246
Surrey, J. L., 158, 174, 368, van Kaam, A., I, 14, 16, 18,20, Wu, C., 229, 246
371 23, 24, 25, 29, 30, 39, 40, Wundt, w., 179
Sutich, A., 310, 320 42,44,48,49,60,65,85,
Swisher, S. W., 176, 205 161,162,163,164,174, Yalom, I., 354, 357
190,191,207,249,252, Yogananda. P., 278, 279
Taft, R., 179, 180,201,207 266,270,287,289,307, Young, W. C., 222, 225
Tagiuri, R., 179, 181, 207 394,405
Tamayo, A., 249, 270 Vedakkekara, C. M., 374, 386 Zanardi, C., 160, 174
Tangney, J. P., 123, 124, 126, Venkatesanda, 321, 334 Zarathustra, 393
154,155 Vergote, A., 249, 270 Zeus, 99
 Subject Index

Abilities, 402 Amazement, 396

Absence, 323 Ambiguity,I24ff
The Absolute, 253 Ambivalence, 344
Absolution, 249 Amness, 276
Absurdity, 267-268 Analogy, 283
Abuse, 210--211, 221, 265 Analysis, 256, 287, 312, 323, 341-342, 360, 364,
child, 227, 229 380,393,395
emotional, 21 I constitutive, 187
physical and/or sexual childhood, 210, descriptive structural, 360
224 experimental, 356
ritual, 212-214, 219ff hermeneutic, 364
sexual, 211, 229 idiographic, 187-189
Acausal connection, 302, 304 mode of, 130--134
Acausal movement, 304 qualitative, 29, 128,251,258
Acceptance, 244-245,262,266,313,322,328fL process, 364
365ff, 376, 395ff, 404 rational, 356
Achievement, 161 statistical, 390
Acknowledgment, 322, 327 story, 191
Action, 304, 318, 333, 351 structural, 269, 339, 360
Addictive process, 215 theme, 191
Adolescence, 229, 262, 323 Analysis of grace, 374
Adulthood, 243, 261-262, 265 Analytical processes, 217
Affect, 245, 389 Angel, 381
Affection, 249, 321,327, 331,333 Anger, 114-115, 119-121,211,228-230, 234ff,
Affective experience, 145 241,243-245,263-264,314,316,339,
Affective moments, 152 344,346-347,350,366
Affective situation, 133, 136 languaging, 119-120
Aggravation, 316 Anima, 159,283
Agnostics, 390 Animus, 159, 169,283
Agony, 254, 361 Anticipation, 323
Alcoholism, 402 Anthropologist, 336, 356
Alienation, 239, 242 Anticipatory grieving, 365ff
from one's body, 212 Anxiety, 44, 123ff, 238, 242-243, 252, 286,
A Iter egos, 212 336
Altered states, 318 Apology, 233-234
Alters, 219-220 Applied meaning, 284, 303
Altruistic ideas, 352 Appreciation, 331

413
 414 SUBJECT INDEX

Approach, 4, 37, 69, 71, 75,181-182,191,205, Awakening of the soul, 329

221-222,229,231-232,250,255, Awareness, 258, 268, 274--278, 284, 304, 313-314,
273-274,283,339,363,404 318,322,324--325,336,340,347,356,
Approval, 378 359--360,369, 374ff, 402
Archetypal figures, 213 conceptual, 275
Archetypal ideas, 254 cosmic, 310
Archetypal realities, 276 detached, 395
Archetypal symbols, 283 disembodied, 395
Archetype, 274, 283 heightened, 313ff, 326ff, 380ff
Ars moriendi, 361-362, 369 human, 278, 318
Artist, 286 level of, 329
Assessment mystical, 377
art of, 204 prereflective,275-276
clinical, 176-177, 180 reflective, 275-276, 279, 305
diagnostic, 202 sensory, 310, 319
"formal," 200 soul, 276
"informal," 176 sovereign, 276
informal versus formal, 199--20 I spiritual, 283, 369
literature, 203 transintentional,277
modes of, 199 trans-mind, 276
psychodiagnostic, 176, 192, 198 Awe, 359, 396
psychological, 119--120
Assessment interview, 181, 192 Beauty, 251. 311,321, 330, 355, 363, 376, 397
At-homeness, 237-238, 241-242 Beauty of existence, 374
Atheism, 390 Becoming, 360
Attachment, 327-328, 330, 378 Becoming phase, 135-136
Attachment theory, 335 Behavior, 274, 315, 330, 362
Attention, 186, 192, 195, 197,204 changes in. 229, 376
focused, 300 human, 274, 379
types of, 20 I professional, 361
Attitude, 126, 179,230,390 verbal,274
and set of the researcher, 217 Behavior of the dying, 367
changes in, 377,402 Behavior-experience split. 274
clinical, 221 Behavioral approaches, 273
constitutive, 190 Behavioral dimension, 362
cultural, 228, 368 Behavioral-experimental psychology, 274
"personalistic," 185 Behaviorism, 274
psychodiagnostic, 178 Being, 276, 360
Attitude of judgment, 237 transintentional nature of, 277
Attraction, 266, 30 I Being, 135-136. 140, 142, 144ff, 175,274,279,
Attribution, 177, 180-181 311,319--320,339,376
Auditory perception, 383 causal way of, 274
Authentic possibility, 354 centeredness of one's, 310
Authenticity, 245, 323, 327, 359--360 coming into, 306
Authority, 249--251, 260, 262, 265-266 core of one's, 311
embodied, 265-267 cosmic, 375
feminine, 265 emotional, 355
external, 268 enlightened, 311
male, 265, 268 flow of, 305
relational, 266 future, 145
sexual, 266 gendered, 268
spiritual, 266, 268 ground of one's, 311
Autonomy, 368, 375 limited interpretations of, 330
Avoidance, 337 non-,360
of death, 368-369 one's own, 326ff
Awakening, 258-259, 328, 346-347, 392 one's whole, 310
spiritual, 363 past, 145
SUBJECT INDEX 415

Being (cont.) Being spiritual, 261-262, 266

philosophy of, 273 Being taken care of, 397
physical, 355 Being the ground of one's existence, 266
principle of, 250 Being the infinite, 277
qualities of, 360 Being there, 276
states of, 319, 323 Being thwarted, 262
unique, 333 Being touched, 353
way of, 273, 277 Being-towards-death, 360
Being a community, 369 Being transformed, 343ff
Being a girl, 260-261 Being unconditionally loved, 321-333
Being a "space," 3 17 Being whole, 266
Being accepted, 239 "Being with," 335
Being all alone, 141 Being with a dying person, 359--370
Being all-knowing, 389 Being-with-others, 360
Being all-powerful, 389 Being with suffering, 335-356
Being angry, 111-122 Beingness, 323, 359
Being anxious, 44-49,138,151-152,191,275 Beings, 369, 399
Being appreciated, 326 Belief, 240, 243, 265, 354
Being approved of, 326 changes in, 402
Being-ashamed, 123-154 religious, 249
Being-at-home, 241 Belief system, 250, 340, 390, 400
Being cared for, 326 Belonging, 241-242, 369
Being compassionately comforted, 326 Betrayal, 231
Being completely permeable, 396 Bewilderment, 352
Being-depressed, 144ff Biases, 162,215,325,340,355,379,393
Being directed toward, 284 Biblical "fall," 309ff
Being disciplined, 326 Biographical presence, 78, 177
Being discouraged, 145 Biological dimension, 362
Being embarrassed, 150-151 Biological process, 361
Being embedded in, 368 Blame, 228-229, 234, 245
Being-emotional, 191 Blessing, 381, 404
Being eternal, 389 Bliss, 281-282, 310-311, 316, 397
Being female, 263 Blood,217,219,240
Being flawed, 259 Bodhisattva vow, 311
Being forgiven, 326 Bodily existence, 252, 277
Being guilty, 128, 149-152 Bodily experience, 262
Being helped, 397 Bodily image, 263
Being "home," 3 13 Bodily knowing, 275
Being human, xi, 149,238,274,359,360,368-369 Bodily need, 249-250, 252
Being in attendance, 389 Bodily pleasure, 266
Being infinite, 389 Bodily presence, 194
Being-in-the-world, II, 14,273-275,331 Bodily senses, 253
Being ineffectual, 344 Bod~252-254,265,268,276-277,310,315,322,
Being invited to be with a dying person, 364 339,350,369,395,404
"Being less than," 260 "divinity" of, 266
Being light, 313 living, 285
Being like God, 389 molecular structure of, 315
Being lustful, 266 physical, 313, 395-396
Being of Light, 392, 396 sensual, 269
Being phase, 132, 136-146 sexual,269
Being present, 268, 354, 361-362, 384, 389 Body aliveness, 322
Being protected, 326 Body identification, 404
Being regretful, 152 Body messages, 339
Being rescued, 397 Body, mind, and spirit, 310
Being responsible, 369 Body traveling, 395ff
Being sexual, 261-262 Body-self, 252, 266
Being silent, 309--320, 377 Body-space, 277
 416 SUBJECT INDEX

Body/spirit, 265, 320 Childhood exposure to violence and abuse, 210--211

Body-subject, 13, 140,202-203 Childhood memories, 211, 263
Bonding, 335 Childhood traumas, 211
Borderline personality disorder, 211-212 Choice, 265-268, 275, 284, 302-303, 398
Boredom, 3 II Christ's love, 239
Boundaries, 242, 315, 362, 376, 384, 395-397 Christian church, 360
Bracketing, 6-7, 75, 162,199,325,340,355,364, Christian saints, 377
379 Christian teachers. 325, 329
Buddhism, 378 Christian theologian, 374
Buddhist sources, 321 Christianity, 360
Buddhist teacher, 325, 329 Church, 376, 381, 402
Buddhist tradition, 310--311 Church community, 263
"Burn-out," 385 Circumstances, 282ff
Clairvoyant experience, 3 15
Call, 353, 356 Clergy, 249, 263, 331
Calmness, 316 Cliche, 327
Cancer, 360--362 Client, I 82ff, 222, 229-230, 361-363
Care, 336-337, 340, 347, 353, 356, 360, 365ff Clinical approaches, 221-222
Caregivers, 335ff, 361-364, 366, 368--370 Clinical assessment, 176-177, 180
Caregiver's experience, 367 Clinical attitude, 221
Care-structure, 191 Clinical disorder, 210
Caring, 327ff, 340, 347, 353-354, 360, 363, Clinical impression, 198, 203, 205
369-370 Clinical impression formation, 175-205
Carmelites, 310 Clinical inference, 176
Case study approach, 160 Clinical interview, 185
Causal connection, 284 Clinical intuition, 186
Causal interpretation, 274 "Clinical" modes of perception, 201
Causal means, 281 Clinical observation, 210
Causality, 284, 360 Clinical practice, 361
immanent, 285 Clinical psychologist, 199
Causation, 277 Clinical psychology, 214
Cause, 274, 374, 384 Clinical significance, 220--222
Cause and effect, 304 Clinical thanatology, 363
Ceremonies, 213 Clinician, 221, 229-230
Change, 295ff, 313ff, 322, 347, 354, 360, 377, 398, Clinging, 278--279
402,404 Clustering process, 290
Charisma, 374 Co-constitution, 13, 153, 162, 176-177, 274--275,
Charitable service, 377-378 287,312,364.379
Charity, 360 Co-experience, 27-28, 190
Charm, 392 Coincidence, 281-282, 285, 301-302
Child development, 250, 335 Cognitive acts, 202, 205
Child's experience, 250 Cognitive approaches, 250
Childhood image, 259 Cognitive decision, 229
Child-rearing, 335 Cognitive dissonance, 353
Children, 249, 250, 252, 268, 281, 331, 335ff, 402 Cognitive forgiveness, 229
caregiver for, 335ff Cognitive horizon, 9
cognitive skills, 249 Cognitive perspective, 231
eyes, 349 Cognitive phenomena, 278
fears, 250 Cognitive processes, 181
relating with, 343ff Cognitive styles, 178, 186
stories, 261 Cognitive theory, 180
Childhood, 243, 258,260--261,265, 314 Cognitive therapy, 148
Childhood abuse, 210, 224 Cognitive variables, 202
Childhood beliefs, 248, 263 Collaborative dialogue, 46, 183
Childhood defense mechanism, 211 Colleagues, 321-322, 353
Childhood experiences, 259, 262, 265, 274 Collective unconscious, 274, 276
SUBJECT INDEX 417

Comfort, 350, 361, 401 Consciousness (cont.)

Communicating with God, 343ff transpersonal state of, 30 I
Communication, 317, 323, 339, 341, 348, 362, unitive, 310
367,399-400,403 without an object, 277-278
Communion, 309, 311, 319, 327, 329, 396 without a subject, 277-278
Community, 353-354, 356, 366, 368--369 women's, 157
Compassion, 311,332,340,346-347,370 Consciousness of consciousness, 311
Compassionate being, 319 Constituent analysis, ix, 191, 384
Compassionate mercy, 378 Constituent themes, 288ff, 312ff, 325ff, 342ff,
Compassionate mother, 250 365ff, 373, 377, 380ff, 394ff
Compassionate stance, 230 constituent, 288ff, 312ff, 325ff, 342ff, 365ff
Compensation, 362 descriptive, 289
Complexity, 284 final, 312
Comprehensive constituent summary, 288ff fundamental structural, 165ff
Comprehensive constituent themes, 312ff, 325ff, general, 256
365ff, 380ff, 395ff general structural, 189
Comprehensive thematic structures, 288ff perceptual, 191
Computers, 202-203 Constituents, 23, 27, 44,129,132, 152, 169,
Concentration, 310 191-193,196,216ff,261,264,267-268,
Conceptual awareness, 275 275,287,339,342,366,383
Conceptual experience, 275 Constitution, 175
Confidence, 166 Constitutive analysis, 187
Configural-structural model, 191-193 Constitutive attitude, 190
Confirmation, 327 Constitutive horizon, 192
Conflict, 250, 252 Constitutive phenomenology, 184
Confusion, 238, 323 Contemplation, 333
Connectedness, 354, 368, 370 Contemplative explication, 198
Connection, 355, 365ff, 380ff Contemplative presence, 204
Conscious act, 240 Contentment, 276, 316
Conscious awareness, 250 Control, 219, 230, 313, 327
Conscious control, 281 loss of, 286, 396
Conscious intention, 302 Control groups, 230
Consciousness, 5, 9, II, 14,36,56,87, 114, 170, Conversation, 265
175,180,183-184,245,276-277,286, Conversion, 374
319,362,376,378--379 Co-participants, 324ff
acts of, 177 Coping, 343ff, 351
altered states of, 219, 315--316 Coping mechanisms, 220
"awakening of," 248 Co-researcher. I 62ff, 218. 256, 312ff, 337ff, 364ff.
divine, 375, 383-384 379ff, 393ff, 400ff
embodied, 265 Corporeality, 252
field of, 191 Cosmic awareness, 310
feminine, 159, 168--169, 171 Cosmic being, 375
forms of, 306 Cosmic consciousness, 283
horizonal nature of, 9 Cosmic vision, 369
intentional, 276 Cosmos, 318
level of, 395 Counseling, 230, 363
mystical, 376-377, 384 Countertransference, 362
ordinary, 375 Courage, 322, 330, 349-351
performance of, 67 Creation, 319, 369, 398
"positional," 198 Creationism, 268
pure, 277-278 Creative expression, 276, 322
radical shift in, 317 Creative fervor, 286
seat of, 311, 320 Creative interaction, 325
self-, 137, 144, 198 Creative power, 253
states of, 305, 310, 375 Creativity, 310, 313
stream-of-, 191 Crisis, 238, 368
 418 SUBJECT INDEX

Critical thought, 260 Development, 250, 252, 256, 328, 338, 375-376
Cruelty, 351 human, 283, 370, 378
Cults, 214 inner, 375
Cultural anthropology, 247, 253 Developmental process, 352
Cultural attitude, 228, 368 Devotion, 332, 377
Cultural context, 247 Diagnosis, 196,200,203,212,214,221
Cultural influences, 251 Diagnostic assessment, 202
Cultural symbols, 252 Dialectic, 266
Cultural values, 227 Dialectical connected clusters, 153
Culture, 252, 360, 373, 393 Dialectical relationship, 150--151
indigenous, 321 Dialogal approach, 37, 232
shamanic, 321 Dialogal group, 232
Western, 369 Dialogal method, 231-232
Culture building, 14 Dialogic knowing, 249-250
Cutting behavior, 211 ff Dialogue, 52,222,231, 247,256,287,312,323
collaborative, 46, 183
Dark night of the soul, 323 fundamental, 232
Dasein, 8, 175, 359-360 genuine, 323
Data, 22, 25, 27, 36, 38, 41, 44-46, 49-50, 63, 67, personal,216
130ff, 177, 182-183, 187,212,215-218, phase, 216-217
223,256,266,268,286-287,289, preliminary, 232
341-342,364,389-390,393 questioning, 41
interview, 164, 218 questions and answers, 217
primary, 300 topic of, 227
processing, 202-203 Discipline, 250, 327, 338
quantifiable, 388 Disappointment. 244
raw, 129 Disciple, 321-322
Data analysis, 216-218, 286, 289 Discrimination, 262
Data collection, 215-216, 218, 287 Dis-ease. 228, 233, 242
Data gathering, 286ff Disease. 362
Death, II, 145,211,219,255,286,326,330, Disesteem, 150--151
336, 338, 348, 359ff, 362-363, 392. Disgust. 343. 349. 353
404 Disidentification, 376
Death instinct, 360--361 Disintegration. 323
Decision-making, 202, 282 Displacement, 362
Defense mechanism, 211 Dissociation, 221
Deification, 311 Dissociative identity disorder, 209ff
Demand, 322-323 diagnosis and treatment, 214
Democracy, 347, 369 Distress. 243, 329, 336. 339, 366
Denial, 223, 337, 348, 353, 362, 365ff Distrust. 209. 220. 227
Denial of death, 369 The divine, 247ff, 309, 311, 317, 319-320, 375,
Denial of suffering, 336 377-378.384,389.391,404
Depersonalization, 211, 368 ground of, 311
Depression, 196-197,202,242,259,340 Other, 264
Description, 342, 373, 389 state of, 3 I 0
general structural, 190, 193-194 Divine act of love, 397
Descriptive statements, 218 Divine activity, 375
Descriptive structural analysis, 360 Divine being, 375
Descriptive techniques, 379 Divine child, 283
Descriptive theme, 289 Divine connection, 381
Desire, 184,219,236,243,253-254,263, 294ff, Divine consciousness, 375, 383-384
350,353,355,397 Divine destiny, 40 I
Despair, 145-146, 150,238 Divine element, 374, 390, 392
Destiny, 282, 301, 329,401,404 Divine encounter, 387-404
personal,400--401 Divine energy, 253
Detachment, 328 Divine entity, 389
SUBJECT INDEX 419

Divine experience, 278 Ego-self, 278, 310, 318, 384

Divine favor and love, 375 Ego-transcending experience, 310
Divine images, 265 Ego-transcending perception, 285, 376
feminine, 266--267 Egoic motivation, 328
Divine knowledge, 395, 398--399, 403 Egolessnes$, 313
Divine nature, 389 Eidetic grasping, 289, 292
Divine oneness, 393 Eidetic reduction, 189-190, 193
Divine plan, 397 Eidetic science, 6
Divine power, 390 Eidos, 189-190
Divine presence, 278, 387--404 Elation, 316
Divine properties, 391 The elderly, 378
Divine quality, 391 Embarrassment, I 23ff, 220, 316
Divine realm, 404 Embodied authority, 265--267
Divine refuge, 395ff Embodied belief, 237
Divine Self, 320 Embodied consciousness, 265
Divine source, 396 Embodied executive ego, 265
Divine vastness, 396 Embodied experience, 253, 255, 259, 265, 376
Divine will, 251 Embodied female, 253
Divorce, 237 Embodied femininity, 265
Doctors, 335 Embodied gender, 265--267
Dogmas, 404 Embodied perception, 180
Doing, 128, 135-136, I 45ff, 340, 347 Embodied phenomenon, 255
Domination, 258 Embodied presence, 264
Double intentionality, 56 Embodied self, 268
Doubt, 397 Embodied spirituality, 252-255, 269
Drama, 249 Embodied structure, 275
Dream, 240, 285, 30 I, 354 Embodied woman, 266
Dream state, 315 Embodiment, 264, 269
Drive, 253 Emotion, 120--121, 126--127, 148,211-212,219,
Drugs, 222 222,245,274,286, 313ff,333, 376
Duration, 305 attitudes toward, 219
Duty, 378 conflicting, 324
Dwelling, 13-14,66,341 masking, 220
empathic, 65--66 overwhelming, 350
Dying, 311, 359-370, 373-385,387--404 unexpected, 343
art of, 361 vehement, 212
naturalness of, 366 Emotional, 361-362
terminal phase, 366 Emotional assault, 213
Dying children, 335 Emotional bond, 353
Emotional cleansing, 230
Earth, 311, 320 Emotional connection, 366
Earth/heaven, 320 Emotional defense, 350
Eastern holism, 304-306 Emotional discomfort, 223
Eastern Orthodox Christian tradition, 310--311 Emotional experience, 222, 376, 397
Eastern philosophy, 283, 305 Emotional forgiveness, 229
Eastern world-views, 305 Emotional interdependence, 169
Ecological approach, 191 Emotional need, 336
Ecstasy, 310, 323, 404 Emotional opening, 328
Ecstatic presence, 397 Emotional pain, 3 16
Educational process, 320 Emotional phases, 337
Effects, 274, 402 Emotional phenomena, 278
Ego, 283, 309, 316,318--319,327-328,330, 375, Emotional reaction, 223
384 Emotional responses, 343 ff
Ego consciousness, 276, 282 Emotional states, 218--219, 314, 330
Ego defenses, 362 painful, conflicted, and confused, 365ff
Ego-autonomy, 375 Emotional suffering, 323
 420 SUBJECT INDEX

Emotional wounds, 221 Essential structure, 186, 218-219

Empathic contemplation, 203-205 Estrangement, 237-238
Empathic dwelling, 6~6 The eternal, 311, 376, 389
Empathic intuition, 181 The eternal self, 374
"Empathic" perception, 179 Eternal life, 361
Empathic presence, 163, 199,204 Eternal Now, 277
Empathic receptivity, 197 Eternal space, 396
Empathic regard, 204 Eternity, 376, 396
Empathy, 179-181, 187-188, 190,203,221-222, Ethical concerns, 214
262,340,347-348,353,362-363 Ethical personalism, 10
Empirical approach, liS, 154, 177, 183 Ethical principles, 250
Empirical basis, 229 Euphoria, 222, 3 16
Empirical existential-phenomenological psychol- Evaluation, 331, 403
ogy, 176 Events, 282ff, 403
Empirical experiential evidence, 306 The ever-present. 319
Empirical investigation, 123 Evidence, 274
Empirical literature, 387 Evil,323.378
Empirical method, 190 Evolution, 304, 369
Empirical phenomenological investigation, 190 Evolutionary process, 284, 304
Empirical phenomenological method, 191,255 Executive ego, 249, 265
Empirical phenomenological reflection, 30-38, Existence. 165,237.275.284,311,318,337,378,
42-43, 165 384,398
Empirical psychological literature, 228 bodily,252,277
Empirical psychology, 17-18, 39 delight and beauty of, 374
Empirical research, 21-49, 64--65, 69,114-115, material, 327
128,176,181,185,228,255 nature of, 274
Empirical science, 384, 388 personal, 287, 310
Empirical variations, 191 unified with aspects of, 313ff
Empowering experience, 322 Existential and transpersonal dimensions, xiv-xv,
Empowerment, 327 248
Emptiness, 238, 323, 369, 376 Existential concerns, 379
Encounter, 363 Existential contingencies, II
with a divine presence, 387-404 Existential experience, 248
Encouragement, 327-328 Existential guilt, 354
Enemies, 321 Existential learning, 336
Energy, 276,313-314,317,352,375, 384-385 Existential love, 323
Energy of the body, 322 Existential philosophers, 354
"Engaged detachment," 328 Existential philosophy, 361, 378
Enjoyment, 374 Existential project, 13
Enlightenment, 253, 311, 378, 389, 392 Existential psychoanalysis, 12
Environment, 274, 309, 314-315, 322-323, 333, Existential psychology, 284, 323-324, 361
353-354 Existential thinker, 302
Epoche, 5,71 Existential world-view, 273
Equanimity, 278 Existential-hermeneutic work, II
Eroticism, 265-266 Existentiallhumanistic approaches, 277
Essence, 6, 165,209,218,253,273,275,278,306, Existential-phenomenological approach, xiv, 14,
312-313,318,320,322-323,342, 273-274,276-277,286,324,339-340,
375-376.379,383,387,391,394,403 393
fundamental,312 Existential-phenomenological investigation, 387
pure, 311 Existential-phenomenological method, 311,339,364
realization of, 375 Existential-phenomenological paradox, I 5
spiritual, 333 Existential-phenomenological philosophy, 5-8
Essence of one's being, 313ff Existential-phenomenological psychology, 3-4,
Essence of the experience, 286, 384 14-18,176,274-276,279,378-379
Essence of the phenomenon, 319 Existential-phenomenological reflection, 51,
Essential description, 389 259-268
SUBJECT INDEX 421

Existential-phenomenological research, 21-59, Experience (cont.)

359-360,364 intimate, 221
Existential-phenomenological study, 157, 324, inspiring, 326ff
359-360 involuntary, 388
Existential-phenomenologist, 319 kinesthetic, 179
Existential-phenomenology, 11-13,274 life, 242, 255, 259, 264-265, 267, 275, 376
Existentialism, 8, 15,273,359,378-379 life-world, 43, 59, 339
Existentialists, 359 lived, 199,236,336,339-340,364
Expansion, 322, 329 meaning of, 403
Expectation, 240, 259, 354-355 meaningful, 275, 279, 284-285, 320, 335, 340,
Experiaction, 4, 5, 21-22, 52-59,127,191 377
Experience, 175, 185, 19~191, 233, 244-245, metaphorical, 239-240
256,267,273-276,281,286,289,302, nonordinary, 283
311-312,315, 324ff, 335, 341ff, 353ff, objectivity of, 283
359-360,363-365,367-370, 373ff, 388, out-of-body, 315
390,393,396,40Iff painful, 365
as psychologically therapeutic, 326ff paranormal, 283
bodily, 262 peaceful, 279
caregiver's, 367 perceptual, 192-193
child's, 250 personal, 278, 321
clairvoyant, 315 phenomenal, 276
"coincidental," 285 philosophy of, 273
conceptual, 275 physical, 240
concrete lived, 359 positive, 373
day-to-day, 278, 282 prepredicative, 190
direct, 287, 320, 376, 390 previous, 212
divine, 278 private, 22~221
early, 375 profound, 326ff
ego-transcending, 310 psychologist's, 176, 191
embarrassing, 221 quality of, 345
embodied, 253, 255, 259, 265, 376 reflective, 275
emotional, 222, 376, 397 religious, 283, 375-376
empowering, 322 revitalizing, 322
everyday, 248, 31 I rewarding, 365
existential, 248 rich and complex, 336
extraordinary, 328 secular, 376
feminine, 264 self-forgetful, 310
foundational, 258 self-reflective, 198-199
frightening, 389 self-transcendent, 248
growing-up, 243 self-transformative, 355
human, 243-244,255, 274-275,279,282-283, self-validating, 278, 318
286,301, 306, 319,337,359-360,365ff, sensory, 385
373,379 shared, 353
meaningful,275 significance of, 325
nonordinary, 286 subjective, 255, 283, 361
transcendent, 286 subjects', 23 I
human situated, II symbolic level of, 239
humbling, 352 synchronistic, 302
indelible and unforgettable, 343ff tacit, 180
individual's, 364 terrifying, 403
identifiable, 287 therapeutic nature of, 330
immediate, 239, 287, 311, 390 trans-egoic, 276, 318
ineffable, 313ff transformational, 395, 401-402
initiatory, 239 transformative, 240, 346, 350, 403
inner, 181,235,363-364 traumatic, 212, 254
internal, 319 trying, 366
422 SUBJECT INDEX

Experience (cont.) Family, 239, 251,258,260,264-265,281, 321,

"types," 205 323,330-331, 335, 338,361, 365ff.
unitive, 248 37&-378
we-,368 Family story, 249
whole, 293 Family unit, 249
woman's, 158,209-224 Fantasy, 244, 249
Experience of analyzing, 355 Fate, 285, 30 I
Experience of being silent, 309-320 Father, 250, 252, 260, 356
Experience of being unconditionally loved, 321- Favor, 374
333 Fea~ 170,209,219-220,235,238,244,250,252,
Experience of "being with," 335 254259,286,315-316,343,349-350,
Experience of being with a dying person, 359- 353, 355, 366, 380ff, 39&-397
370 loss of, 286
Experience of community, 368 Fear of castration, 254
Experience of connectedness, 368 Fear of death, 286, 362, 392, 402
Experience of disempowerment, 262 Fear of insanity, 286
Experience of distance, 277 Feeling, 178-179,219,245,248,274,286, 313ff,
Experience of dying, 363 333,339, 341, 351 ff, 362, 376
Experience offeeling grace, 373--385 emotionally charged, 323
Experience of forgiveness, 227-228 intensity of, 244, 350
Experience of gift and gratitude, 365ff processes, 2 I 7
Experience of God, 390 unbearable, 350
Experience of grief and mourning, 365ff Feeling blessed and/or loved, 316, 380ff
Experience ofloss, 365 Feeling changed by experience, 365ff, 40 I
Experience oflove, 319, 361, 368 Feeling compelled, 301
Experience of psychological interest, 274 Feeling empathic, 204
Experience of self, 262 Feeling empty, 242
Experience of self-cutting, 209-224 Feeling energized, 381ff
Experience of the sacred within, 251 Feeling enriched, 365
Experience of space, 376 Feeling grace, 373--385
Experiencer, 281, 286 Feeling guided, 381 ff
Experiencing, 264, 3 \0 Feeling "incomplete," 402
Experiencing an altered reality, 343ff Feeling presence, 203
Experiencing comfort, warmth, and safety, Feeling present, 380ff
397 Feeling protected, 397
Experiencing community, 368 Feeling rejuvenated, 313ff
Experiential basis, 230 Feeling safe, 397
Experiential phenomenon, 378 Feeling supported, 327
Experimental method, 228 Feeling of estrangement, 228
Experimental studies, 229 Feeling offeeling, 311
Explicate/unfolded order, 305 Felt-sense, 275-276, 339
Explication, 1&-17,22-23,25,33,41,43--44, Female, 254ff
46-48,131,183,185,190,192,201, Female sexual energy, 253
203-204,325,340,379,388 The feminine. 253, 342
contemplative, 198 principle, 159, 168
noematic, 190-191 Feminine attributes, 168
steps of, 25-26 Feminine authority, 265
Expression, 321-323, 375, 391 Feminine being, 267
External validity, 256 Feminine consciousness, 159, 168-169, 171
Feminine images, 26&-267
Faith, 238ff, 249-250, 298ff, 331 Feminine experience, 264
development, 249 Feminine gender, 267
individuative--reflective, 249 Feminine personality, 160
mythic-literal, 249 Feminine psychology, 160
Faith in God, 353 Feminine relationship, 267
False self, 241, 375 Feminine spirituality, 258
SUBJECT INDEX 423

Feminine/masculine, 320 Gender conflicts, 252

Femininity, 264---265 Gender differences, 160
embodied, 265 Gender identity, 160
sensual, 265 Gender relations, 254
sexual,265 Gender roles, 159
Feminism, 159 sociocultural significance of, 268
Feminist critique, 368 Gender of God, 252, 258, 266, 268
Feminist interpretation, 254 Gendered body, 252
Feminist perspective, 254 General structural description, 190, 193--194
Feminist theologian, 247 General structural theme, 189
Feminist theology, 247. 251 General structure, 40,43,47,114. 128, 133--134,
Figure-ground, 300 192,218-219,256,258-259
Final comprehensive constituent themes, 312ff, General theme, 256
365ff, 380ff, 395ff Generic phenomenon. 126
Final structural summary. 288ff Generosity,374
Final structure, 164 Getting-over phase, 146-149
Final theme, 312 Gift, 347, 361, 365ff, 374--375. 384, 403
The finite, 277, 377 Global perspective, 347
The Flesh, 254 Goal, 157-173.282.284--285, 294ff
Focused attention, 300 God. 240. 247-269.278. 31 1,316-317, 323. 340,
"Foresight," 196 344,353,363.374--375, 381 ff, 387-393
Forgetfulness, 147-148,277 anger at, 350
Forgiveness, 227-245, 262 communicating with, 343ff
cognitive, 229 existence of, 390
emotional, 229 help of, 374
spiritual, 229 Houses of, 360
Forgiving another, 228, 231-237 love of, 374
Form, 254,286,323. 355,379 male, 252ff
Freedom, 237-238,275,284,304,313,322,327, patriarchal, 267
353,374--375,397 revelation of, 391
Free imaginative variation, 7 vision of, 389
Free variation, 193 God representations, 250
Free will, 282, 303 God's essence, 317
Friend, 239, 249, 251, 263, 265, 267, 321, 323, God's "humanity," 264
365ff,376 God's loving initiative, 375
Frustration, 314, 339, 347, 350, 399, 402 Goddess, 253ff
Fundamental description, 30-38, 43,164--165 Goddess cultures, 158
Fundamental dialogue, 232 The good, 374, 389
Fundamental essence, 312 Good fortune, 40 I
Fundamental form, 367 The Good Samaritan, 362
Fundamental meaning, 125 Grace, 236,240, 316,319,328,333,350, 373--385
Fundamental reality, 289 hidden, 337
Fundamental structural definition, 325ff, 367 Gratefulness, 316
Fundamental structural theme, 165ff Gratitude, 332, 347, 363, 365ff, 383, 401
Fundamental structure, 30-38, 42-43, 165, 289, Greed,323
365,379-380 Grief. 235, 240, 244, 330, 365ff
Funeral, 361, 367 Groundedness, 316
Future, 9. 139, 145, 233ff, 277, 283, 285, 300-301, Group discussion, 256
315,319,342 Guidance, 262-263, 327
Future perception, 186 Guilt, I 23ff, 209, 220, 228, 235, 238, 242-244,
Future self, 138, 151 344,350,353--355,362,366
Guru, 322. 331
Gaze, 196, 199,203
Gende~251,254,263,265,269 Hallucinations, 315
embodied, 265-267 Happiness, 316
feminine, 267 Harmon~285,329,401
424 SUBJECT INDEX

Hatred, 239 Horizon (cont.)

Having, 135-136, 145ff "inner," 196
Healing, 222, 229, 238ff, 319-320, 375 intentional, 188
Health, 285, 362, 376 "next," 192
mental, 230, 335 noematic, 185
physical, 230, 335 noetic, 186-187
Health professionals, 362 "perceptual," 182, 185
Hearing, 339, 376 projected, 67
Heart, 276, 279, 310-311, 314, 319-320, 323, psychological, 192
327-328,332,347,356 temporal, 9
Heaven, 320 trans-situational, 192
Helping professions, 336 ultimate, II
Helplessness, 141,343-344,347,350 Horizon of experience, 184
Here and now, 319 Horizon of past experience, 188
Hermeneutic analysis, 364 Horizon of seeing, 192
Hermeneutic circle, 51 Hospice, 360-361, 379
Hermeneutic research, 81 Hostility, 242, 323
Hermeneutic-phenomenological psychology, Human affairs, 282
17-18,37,49-59 Human awareness, 278, 318
Hermeneutical approach, 191 Human behavior, 274, 379
Hermeneutical phase of analytical process, 131 Human being, 219, 237, 244-245, 253, 274-275, 31 0,
Hermeneutics, 17,29,52 318,323,331,335-336,344,351, 373ff, 381
"dialectic," 180 Human beingness, 359
experience, 52 Human body, 254
Hermeneutics of existence, II Human capacity, 275
Hero, 283 Human community, 244
Hesychasts, 310 Human condition, 245, 336, 354, 360, 368-369
Heuristic study, 322 Human consciousness, 378-379
Higher power, 381-382, 384, 395-397 "Human death," 362
Higher self, 318 Human development, 283, 370, 378
Hindu sources, 321 Human experience, 243-244, 255, 274-275, 279,
Hindu teachers, 325 282-283,286,301.306,319,337,
Hindu tradition, 311 359-360, 365ff, 373, 379
Hippocampus, 212 Human evolution, 369
Historical background, 401 Human existence, 282
Historical figures, 323 Human expression. 321
Historical perspective, 274 Human history, 91
Historical survey, 368, 376 Human individual, 274, 284
History, 310, 373, 392-393 Human interaction, 252. 362
human, 91 Human living, 360
life, 221 Human meaning, 379
natural, 91 Human nature, 250, 274, 359, 368
social, 96 Human perspective, 194
Holism, 304-306 Human potential, 383
Holistic world-view, 283 Human predicament, 339
Holomovement, 304 Human race, 369
The Holy, 252 Human reality, 368
Holy Spirit, 329 Human relationship, 331, 361
Homeostasis, 300 Human response, 361
Homosexuality, 261 Human science, 3-4
Hope, 228, 343ff, 352, 355 psychology as, 38-39, 71,121
Hopelessness, 343-344, 350 Human species, 374
Horizon, 57, 75,89,191-192,289 Human spirit, 337, 349
anticipatory, 78, 80, 204 Human subjectivity, 87-107
cognitive, 9 Humanistic approach, 274
constitutive, 192 Humanistic psychology, 274, 284
SUBJECT INDEX 425

Humani~,241,244,247,264,323,335,369,376 Inadequac~239,347
needs of, 348 Incest survivors, 229
Humankind, 284, 309, 369 Incest trauma, 211
Humanness, 203, 241 The individual, 353, 369, 375, 377, 379, 400, 404
Humiliation, 124fT Individual phenomenological reflection, 30-38,
Humili~, 332, 377, 396 42-43,162,364
Humor, 259, 264, 365fT Individuation, 284
Hunger, 339 InefTabili~, 318, 333, 377, 391,395,399-400
Hurt, 227-229, 233fT, 243 Inference, 180-181, 199
theory of, 201-203
"I-Thou" relation, 250, 323, 363 Infidelity, 233
Ideal self, 141, 149 The infinite, 277, 389
Ideals, 252 An infinite being, 388
Ideas, 313fT, 352 Infinite presence, 388
Identification, 303, 375 Infinite reality, 396
Identity, 245, 285, 323, 327, 329 Infini~, 329, 395-397
loss of, 396 Information, 294fT, 355
meaningful, 233 Information processing, 212
personal, 96, 375 Infraconsciousness mode. 252, 266
Ideology, 213, 249 Inhibition. 286
Ignorance, 239 Inhumani~, 353
Illness, 365fT Initiation, 310. 353
Illusion, 2 \3,336,376 Initiation mysteries, 283
Image, 203,250, 252, 264-265,267-268,301 Initiatory experience, 239
androcentric religious, 258, 268 Injury, 234fT, 245. 402
anthropomorphic, 268 Injustice, 245
bodily, 263 Inner energy, 276
childhood, 259 Inner experience, 181, 235, 363-364
cultural androcentric, 249 "Inner" horizon, 196
diverse, 266, 268 Inner knowledge, 310, 327
feminine, 266--267 Inner life, 313fT, 330
gender-free, 259 Inner meaning, 230
male, 252, 267 "Inner" perception, 178
male/female, 259 Inner potential, 322
masculine, 248--249, 254, 259fT Inner power, 313
Image of God the Father, 252 Inner reali~. 315
Image oflove, 254 Inner self, 311, 381
Image of playfulness, 254 Inner transformation, 327, 332
Image of the divine, 247fT, 260fT Inner world, 337
male, 265 Innocence,261,347,350
Imaginary variation, 259 loss of, 351
Imagination, 179, 184, 195, 203 Inquiry, 273-274
Imaginative contemplation, 204 Insanity, 286, 350
Imaginative variation, 7,23,191 Insight, 222, 277, 313, 318, 325, 327
Imaging, 203-205 Insignificance, 397
Imagining, 178 Insomnia, 242
Imitation, 180, 249 Inspiring experience, 326fT
Immanence, 253-254, 269, 278 Instincts, 286, 3 14
Immanent causality, 285 Institutions, 337-338, 356, 360
Immediate experience, 239, 287, 311, 390 Integration, 313
Immortality, 392 psychological, 330
Implicate/enfolded order, 305 Intellect, 161, 391
Impression formation, 204 Intellectual illumination, 392
clinical, 175-205 Intended meaning, 67
intuition theory of, 201-203 Intention, 180, 282, 284, 302-303, 394
styles of, 199 Intentional acts, 178, 187
 426 SUBJECT INDEX

Intentional analysis, 186, 191, 205 Jewish teachers, 325

Intentional consciousness, 276 Joy, 310, 316, 322, 366, 377, 381ff, 395ff
Intentional features, 191 Judeo-Christian traditions, 268, 278
Intentional horizon, 188 Judgment, 238, 241, 331,333, 346. 402
Intentional knowing, 277 free of, 329
Intentionality, 5,13,67,75,87,175,177,186-187, intuitive, 394
275-277 personal, 250
double, 56 Jungian psychologist, 360
multidimensional, 191 Justice, 170, 227
operative, 12
Intentionality of psychodiagnostic seeing, 175- Karma, 329
205 Karma yoga, 378
Intentionality of perceptual experience, 185-186 Karuna,378
Interactive process, 353 Kindness,262,374,378
Interdependence, 369 Kinesthetic experience, 179
Internal validity, 256 Knowing, 161, 168, 178, 180, 205, 266, 387, 389
Interpersonal relationship, 200, 242 affected, 146
Interpretation, 65, 81-82, 204, 231, 323, 330, 393, "as lived," 275
404 bodily, 275
psychotherapeutic, 361 dialogic, 249-250
reflective, 3 II felt, 140, 146
Interpreting process, 290 foundational, 275
Interpretive reading, 379 holistic ways of, 286
Interpretive sense, 342 intentional, 277
Interpretive--psychological meaning, 312, 394 intuitive, 30 I
Interrelationship of individual and world, 286 not, 266
Intersubjective phenomenon, 255 personal, 322
Intersubjectivity, 368 preconceptual, 275
Interview, 130-13 I, 160, I 63ff, 177-178, 182, prelanguaged, 275
196,201,228,230,232,241,251, prereflective,275
289,312,333,341,344,364,373, private, 322
390, 393 "tacit," 176
assessment, 181, 192 Knowledge, 160. 178, 196,223,229,249,311,
data, 164,218 368,374,376,391,398,400,404
follow-up, 183, 216, 287 -about, 200
reports, 287 body of, 273
research, 188 divine, 395, 398-399, 403
"walk-through," 163,216-217,287-288,312, inner, 310, 327
325,340-341,364,379,393-394 psychodiagnostic, 203
Intimacy, 253, 359 self-reflective, 162
Intimate authenticity, 327 spiritual, 374
Intimate contact, 337 Knowledge of acquaintance, 200-20 I
Intimate experience, 221 Knowledge of human experience, 244-245
Intimate relationship, 285 Kundalini, 253
Introspection, 202
Intuition, 64-65,176-181,192,199,201-203, Language, 249, 275, 311, 317, 379, 399
249-250,277-278,300,327,376 Languaging, 119-120
clinical, 186 Law of the threshold, 87-107
and eidetic grasping, 289, 292 Laws, 274
processes, 217 universal, 329
Intuitive judgment, 394 Learning, 30-44, 275
Intuitive knowing, 301 existential, 336
Irrational thoughts, 245 self-,347
Irresponsibility, 240 Learning from experience, 365ff
Isness, 276 Lebenswelt, 275, 287, 312
Isolation, 209, 347, 353, 355, 368 Lesbians, 267
SUBJECT INDEX 427

"Letting go," 240 Living, 242, 374, 404

Liberation, 374 day-to-day, 339, 342
Libidinal interest, 362 natural way of, 267
Life, 233, 238-242, 254--255, 265, 273, 279, Loneliness, 238, 263, 316
285,300--302,314,317,319, Longing, 278, 323, 397
322-324, 327, 330, 332, 335, 340, Loss,219,233,286,316,323,336,361,369,396
344, 347, 353-355, 359-360, 368-370, Love, 10, 219, 236, 254, 273, 276, 281, 313, 316,
376, 398, 400--402 318-319,32Iff,338,353,361,374,377,
authentic, 360 381,384,389, 395ff, 401, 404
co-creating, 302-303 ability to, 323
creative approach to, 322 all-consuming, 388
healthy, 322 Christ's, 239
human, 278 existential, 323
inner, 313ff, 330 for the other, 366
joyful,322 guru's, 322
meaning of, 303 merciful, 374, 384
one's own, 249 mystical, 323
rich and meaningful, 321 parentaL 323
Life changes, 322 selfless, 377
Life circumstances, 250 unconditional, 319, 321 ff, 397
Life direction, 282 Love of God, 375
Life experience, 242, 255, 259, 264--265, 267, 275, Love relationships, 369
376 Loved one, 368, 404
Life history, 221 Lover, 233, 265
Life projects, 67, 192 Loving acceptance, 239
Life transformation, 374 Loving action, 383
Life/death, 320 Loving-kindness, 311, 378
Life-text, 21-22, 39, 379 Loving relationship, 239, 321
Life-text studies, 49-52 Loving self, 384
Life-transformation, 374 Loving service, 385
Life-transforming event, 404
Life-world, 4, 9, 275, 287, 300, 303, 312, Machismo, 158
339 Magical thinking, 249
Life-world experience, 43, 59, 339 Maithuna, 253
Light, 315, 383 Male, 258ff
"The light," 388-389, 391-393, 396,403 clergy, 263
Linear time, 277 deity, 263
Linguistic symbols, 377 Man, 253-254
Listening, 309-310,339, 355-356, 364 Mandala, 283
active, 195 Marianismo, 158-159, 171
presence, 203 Married, 253-254
Literal truth, 213 The masculine, 253, 267
Literary figures, 323 Masculine image, 248-249, 254, 259ff
Literary style, 220 Masculine personality, 160
Lived-body, 11 Masculine principle, 159, 168-169, 173
Lived-experience, 158, 175, 199,236, 336, Materialism, 389
339-340,360,364 Maturation, 285
Lived-future, 127 Maturity, 266
Lived human experience, 359-360 Meaning, 15,29-30,40,47-50,56-58,63,65-67,
Lived human meaning, 379 71,127,129,164,184--185,195-197,
Lived-meaning, 121, 128,339 220,247,252,275-276, 282ff, 302-304,
Lived-past, 127 311-312,315,320,325, 329ff, 337,
Lived-sense, 339 339ff, 346, 355, 375, 379ff, 387-389,
Lived structure, 123, 125, 128, 152,275 391,394,404
Lived-time, 134, 142 applied, 284, 303
Lived-world, 263 assignment of, 297ff
 428 SUBJECT INDEX

Meaning (cont.) Metaphysics, 302, 305-306

categories of. 302 Metapsychology, 361
co-creating the. 324 Method, 255, 287, 394
emerging, 312 dialogal. 231-232
fundamental, 125 empirical phenomenological, 191, 255
immanent possibility of, 80 experimental, 228
in the world, 327 natural scientific, 274
inner, 230 phenomenological, 115-116, 132,209,
intended, 67 214-218,231.255,274,282,286,322,
interpretive-psychological, 312, 394 384, 387
levels of, 233, 235 phenomenologicaHiialogal. 255
lived. 121, 128 qualitative, 228, 387
-making, 284, 302 research, 128-134, 231, 311, 324
metaphorical, 235 Method of analysis, 393
ontological, 313fT Method of phenomenological research, 273
personal, 339 Methodological steps, 215-218
psychological, 217, 289 Methodology, 64, 322
to be, 274 Metta, 378
to life, 360 Mind, 268, 276-278, 310-311, 314-315, 321, 323,
ultimate, 310 329,331,333
Meaning of life, 284, 360 "healthy," 253
Meaning of personal existence, 310 human, 284
Meaning statement, 312, 395 intentional nature of, 277
Meaning structures, 342, 379 nature of, 376
Meaning units, 40-41,75, 130,217,341-342,364 ordinary, 311, 318
Meaningful experience, 275, 279, 284-285, 320, quality of, 277
335,340,377 states of, 276
Meaningful identity, 233 Mind-body split, 253
Measurement, 64, 115, 387 Mind control, 213, 222
Medical personnel, 362 Ministers, 335
Medical professions, 356 Mirroring, 250
Medical sciences, 339 Mirth,366
Medical technology, 368 Misperception, 213
Meditation, 239-240, 276, 278-279, 310, 316, 376 Missionaries of Charity, 360, 369
Memory, 184,212-213,315,327,367,399-401 Mistrust, 235
"created," 213 Modesty, 123fT
recalled, 212 Monastic setting, 310-311
reliability of, 212-213 Monastics, 310
survivor's, 213 Mood,122,328,377,384
Memory consolidation, 212 Moral dilemma, 353
Memory distortion, 222 Moral "doing," 151-152
Memory of being with the dying, 366 Moral elevation, 392
Memory oftrauma and rituals, 219 Moral failure, 151-152
Mental assault, 213 Moral grounds, 149
Mental health, 230, 335 Moral issues, 159
Mental imbalance, 322 Moral theologian, 336
Mental states, 322 Moral values, 149, 160
Mercy, 227, 374 Morality, 231
Meta-needs, 310 Mother, 250, 252, 254, 260, 263, 283, 331-332,
Meta-perspective, 241 339,356
Metaphor, 15,48,192-193,227,253,278,330 Motivation, 3 I 0
sensual, 253 egoic,328
Metaphorical experience, 239-240 self-confident, 376
Metaphorical meaning, 235 Motivational force, 284, 302
The metaphysical, 254, 329 Mourning, 365fT
Metaphysical systems, 213 Mudita, 378
SUBJECT INDEX 429

Multiple personality disorder, 210,223 Nonverbal communication, 314

Mutuality, 265-268, 326ff, 368 Noumenal space, 276
Mutual interdependence, 369 The nous, 3 I I
Mystery, 267-268, 273, 30 I, 310--311, 328 Nurturing, 222, 326ff
Mystical awareness, 377
Mystical consciousness, 376--377, 384 Obedience, 263
Mystical enlightenment, 392 Object relations approach, 250
Mystical experience, 266, 283, 310, 316, 318, Object relations theory, 160,250--251,254,375
376--377,389-393,404 Object representation, 375
Mystical insights, 393 Objectification, 323
Mystical love, 323 Objectivity, 255, 376
Mystical phenomenon, 392,404 Obligation, 322, 374
Mystical states, 318-319, 375, 384 Observer, 274
Mystical teachings, 393 Omnipotence, 362, 387
Mystical vision, 392 One, 278
Mysticism, 252, 283 Oneness, 266, 310, 316, 329, 368, 378, 380ff, 393,
The mystic, 252-253, 283, 306, 321, 333 396
Myth, 249,403 Ontological meaning, 313ff
Ontological validity, 389
Narcissism, 362 Openness, 322
Narrations, 256, 342, 394 Operant conditioning, 274
Narrative analysis, 191 Operative intentionality, 12
Native American teachers, 325 Oppression, 172
Native American tradition, 310--311 Oral stage, 274
Natural attitude, 6, 7 I. 195 Original protocols, 288ff
Natural attitude of vision, 203 Organizations, 338
Natural science, 4, 71, 91-92, 95, 97,121,228 Orphans, 335ff, 378
psychological perspective, 230 The Other, 360
Natural scientific inquiry, 274 Other, 105-107,201,233,238,241-242,245,
Natural scientific method, 274 249-250,301-302,318-319,323,329,
Nature, 265, 267, 311, 315, 322, 324, 327, 376 347,355,360,376,378,404
Near-death experience, 360, 387--404 Other-than-me,277
Near-death studies, 388 Out-of-body experience, 315
Need,209,236,294ff,337,36I, 363, 366,377, Out-of-body traveling, 393
383,400
bodily, 249-250, 252 Pain, 217, 219-220, 222-223, 229, 233-234, 239,
emotional,336 243-244,253,323-324, 327,330, 336ff,
physical, 336 344,347,351 ff, 366, 395,402
psychosocial,336 alleviation of, 336
spiritual, 363 psychic, 228
Need hierarchy, 310 Pain control, 336
Need of humanity, 348 Painful experience, 365
Need of others, 353 Paradigm, x, 3--4, 214, 274, 302
Need to escape, 350 scientific, 282
Nervousness, 3 16 Paradox, 266,318, 368,377
Neurosis, 322 Paranoia, 228, 316
Noematic explication, 190--191 Paranormal experience, 283
Noematic horizon, 185 Parental nature, 327
Noematic syntheses, 198 Parents, 243-244, 249-250, 260, 267, 347, 378
Noetic horizon, 186--187 Passion, 253, 264, 278-279, 311,404
Noetic quality, 391 Passionate desire, 253
Noetic-noematic analysis, 186, 189 Passionate equanimity, 279
Noetic-noematic explication, 191-193 Passionate experience, 279
Noetic-noematic horizons of experience, 185 Passionate expression, 276
Noetic-noematic investigations, 185 Passionate feeling, 279
Nonbeing, 350 Passive receptivity, 194-195,201-202,204
 430 SUBJECT INDEX

Passivity, 392 Person, 274-275, 278-279, 323, 339, 353, 356,

Past, 9, 236, 277, 315, 319, 342 360,374-376,392
Past lives, 329 and world, 287
Pastoral counseling perspective, 230 Person perception, 176-177, 181,200,203
Path of enlightenment, 253, 378 Personal being, 140,329
Path of resolution, 148-149 Personal bonds, 353
Patience, 244-245 Personal contact, 335, 337
Patients, 228, 230, 242-244, 362 Personal control, 396
Patriarchal world, 260 Personal depths, 197
Patriarchy, 248 Personal destiny, 400-40 I
Peace, 249,251,276,281,311,313,316,319,322, Personal dialogue, 216
377, 381ff, 395ff Personal effects, 402
Peace of mind, 276, 278, 374 Personal existence, 287, 310
Peaceful experience, 279 Personal experience, 278, 321
Peak experience, 283, 285-286, 297ff, 306, 310, Personal growth, 223, 327, 354
318,376-377,383-384 Personal histories, 219
People, 242-244,316,353,355,369,374 Personal identity, 96, 375
Perceiver, 202 Personal insignificance. 396
Perceiver and perceived, 175, 183-184,276-277, Personal judgment, 250
285 Personal knowing, 322
Perception, 183, 285-286, 323, 330, 387 Personal meaning, 339
auditory, 383 Personal presence, 90, 95
change in, 332 Personal psychotherapy, 242
"clinical" modes of, 201 Personal reality, 313ff
ego-transcending, 285, 376 Personal self, 319
embodied,I80 Personal transformation. 318
"empathic," 179 Personal unconscious, 274
"everyday," 20 I "Personalities," 215
external, 184 Personality, 176, 178-179. 285, 329, 340,
future, 186 375-376,392
"inner," 178 adult,274
nondualistic, 318 complex systems of, 212
non ordinary, 3 18 feminine and masculine, 160
ordinary, 314 Personality structure, 228, 375
person, 176-177, 181,200,203 Personality system, 215
person's, 222 Personality theory, 177
potential, 186 Phenomenal experience, 276
present, 186 Phenomenal study, 3~38, 164
self-forgetful, 285, 376 Phenomenal world, 305
unselfish, 376 Phenomenological analysis, 189,216-217,342
visual, 376, 383 Phenomenological approach, 205, 255, 283, 339,
Perception of other, 202 388,404
Perception of self, 326ff Phenomenological attitude, 6, 67
Perceptual acts, 202, 205 Phenomenological-dialogal method, 255
Perceptual experience, 192-193 Phenomenological discourse, 178
Perceptual field, 197,203,395 Phenomenological empirical approach, 279
"Perceptual" horizon, 182, 185 Phenomenological empirical methods, 255
Perceptual object, 197 Phenomenological inquiry, 161, 22~223, 255,
Perceptual presence, 186 387,393,403
Perceptual reality, 204 Phenomenological intuition, 181
Perceptual style, 185, 199 Phenomenological investigation, 175, 321-322,
Perceptual tendencies, 198 336,360,378
Perceptual theme, 191 Phenomenological investigative process, 306
Perfection, 243, 329 Phenomenological means, 154
Perennial philosophy, 277, 283 Phenomenological method, 115-116, 132, 209, 214-
Perennial wisdom, 393, 404 218,231,255,274,282,286,322,384,387
SUBJECT INDEX 431

Phenomenological perspective, 313, 373 Philosophy as transpersonal, 277

Phenomenological philosophy, 175,279 Philosophy of being, 273
Phenomenological process, 220, 286 Philosophy of existence, 379
Phenomenological psychological description, 352 Philosophy of experience, 273, 379
Phenomenological psychology, 7,49, 121, 175, Philosophy of process, 305
248,252,273,275,279,363 Physical assault, 213
Phenomenological reduction, 5-7 Physical body, 313, 395-396
Phenomenological reflection, 273, 275 Physical contact, 353
Phenomenological research, 37, 59, 82, 162,273, Physical experience, 240
275,289,319-320,356,377 Physical health, 230, 335
and traditional research, ix-x Physical need, 336
and transpersonal/spiritual experience, x-xi Physical phenomenon, 278
approach, 255 Physical punishment, 211
as existential therapy, 37 Physical reality, 283
design, 248 Physical responses, 343ff
method, ix, 7, 111,209, 273, 275, 277, 279, Physical senses, 314-315
337 Physical suffering, 336
projects, 363 Physical world, 274
tradition, 286 Physics, 282
Phenomenological researcher, 231, 286 modem, 306
Phenomenological results, 218-222 post-classic, 283, 305
Phenomenological structure, 116--117, 120 quantum, 306
Phenomenological study, 230, 387-388 subatomic, 306
Phenomenological terminology, 379 Physiognomy, 179, 194, 203
Phenomenological tradition, 181 Play therapy, 229
Phenomenological understanding, 242-245 Playfulness, 254, 265, 310
Phenomenologist, 286, 312, 394 Playing, 353
Phenomenology, 8-10,15,45,114,273,286,319, Pleasure, 215, 219, 222, 253, 266, 286, 378
359, 378-379 Poet, 286, 321, 330. 333
constitutive, 184 The poor, 374
pure, 7 Possessiveness, 279
social, 191 Potential, 330, 337, 354, 376
Phenomenology and synchronicity, 281-306 Potentialities, 327
Phenomenology of at-home ness, 241 Powe~ 158,251,260,262-264,275,389-391,396
Phenomenon, 278, 284, 289, 311-312, 336--338, attribute of, 249
341,355-356,359,364, 378ff, 387, 389, beneficent, 381
391,395,399 creative, 253
designating the, 177 effortless, 242
embodied,255 ego-bound, 30 I
essence of, 3 19 higher, 381-382, 384, 395-397
generic, 126 inner, 313
intersubjective, 255 sense of, 347, 355
locating the, 181 woman's, 159
physical, 278 Power motivation, 158
research, 181,379 Power of service, 377-378
spiritual, 248, 278 Power of the human spirit, 337
Philosophical assumptions, 255 Power over others, 227
Philosophical bases, 274 Power relationships, 161, 251
Philosophical ground, 254 Power to transform, 393
Philosophical quagmires, 388 Practice of inquiry, 273
Philosophical theory, 254 Practice of Zen, 268
Philosophical writings, 229 Prayer, 247-269, 350, 365ff, 385, 40 I
Philosophy, 249, 253-255, 283, 309-311 "Precarious leap," 217, 312, 380, 394
branch or system of, 274 Precognition, 300
Philosophy and approaches in psychology, Preconceived notions, 340, 364, 379
273-274 Preconceptions, 195-196, 199,325, 379, 393
432 SUBJECT INDEX

Preconceptual knowing, 275 Privacy, 124

"Predication," 203 Private experience, 220-221
Prediction, 204 Private knowing, 322
Prelanguaged knowing, 275 Privilege, 260, 263, 359
Premonition, 300-30 I Programming, 214
The prereflective, ix, 36 Protection, 337, 350
Prereflective awareness, 275-276 Protocol, 21-22, 46, 63, 65.75.121, 130, 134.
Prereflective dimensions, 165 163ff, 182, 187, 215ff, 256, 263. 267,
Prereflective knowing, 275 286ff, 312ff, 325ff, 341 ff, 364ff, 379ff,
Prereflective life, 165 388, 393ff, 402
Prereflective sense, 339 original, 288
Prereflective sensibilities, 276 speak-aloud, 52-53
Prereflective structure, ix, 162, 165, 275, 287, 312. verbatim, 290
340,379 Protocol analysis, 164-165, 183,342
Presence, 90, 96, 178-180, 193-195,203,324, Protocol summaries, 288ff
360,362,375,384,389,391 Psyche, 184, 284, 304, 309, 311
abstract, 255 Psychiatrist, 361, 375
all-powerful, 388, 397 Psychic pain, 228
biographical, 78, 177 Psychic structure, 376
bodily, 194 Psychic suffering, 336
contemplative, 204 Psychical research, 283
critical, 199 Psychoanalysis, 159-160
ecstatic, 397 Psychoanalyst, 274, 361
embodied, 264 Psychoanalytic analysis, 250
empathic, 163, 199,204 Psychoanalytic approach, 273
feeling, 203 Psychoanalytic concepts, 228
illuminating, 195-197 Psychoanalytic psychology, 274
infinite, 388 Psychoanalytic theory, 254, 361
listening, 203 Psychoanalytic treatment, 361
meaning-constituting, 187, 195 Psychoanalytic world, 274
mother's, 332 Psychodiagnosis, 176
observing, 203 Psychodiagnostic assessment, 176, 192, 198
perceptual, 186 Psychodiagnostic attitude, 178
personal, 90, 95 Psychodiagnostic encounter, 192
psychodiagnostic, 178 Psychodiagnostic gaze, 196. 199
self-monitoring, 198 Psychodiagnostic interest, 197
sensing, 203 Psychodiagnostic interview, 176, 182, 191
supporting, 330 Psychodiagnostic knowledge. 203
tacit, 204 Psychodiagnostic presence, 178
task-facilitating, 201 Psychodiagnostic seeing, 175-205
Presence of death, 360 Psychodiagnostics, 179
Presence of emotion, 245 Psychodynamic perspective, 228
Presence of God, 329 Psychological androgyny, 169
Presence of the teacher, 332 Psychological approach, 255
Present, 9, 139,315,319,332,342 Psychological assessment, 119-120
Present moment, 314 Psychological constituents, 264
Present-self,137-138 Psychological context, 217
Present-world, 137-138 Psychological development, 252, 375
Presuppositions, 215, 364, 393 Psychological health, 242, 376
Pride, 251 Psychological horizon, 192
Priest, 239-241, 375 Psychological injury, 228
Principles, 252, 378 Psychological integration, 330
ethical, 250 Psychological literature, 383
spiritual, 250 Psychological maturity, 375
universal guiding, 250 Psychological meaning, 217, 289
Principles of being, 250 Psychological models, 229
SUBJECT INDEX 433

Psychological opening, 328 Purity, 313

Psychological perspective, 383 Purpose, 282,284,304,400
Psychological profiles, 197 Purposeful action, 375
Psychological reconciliation, 232 Purposeful interaction, 322
Psychological relevance, 217-218 Purposelessness, 369
Psychological research, 269, 322
"Psychological security," 362 Qualitative analysis, 29,128,251,258
Psychological story, 191 Qualitative findings, 248, 255
Psychological structure, 222 Qualitative method, 228, 387
Psychological suffering, 330 Qualitative research, 356
Psychological survival, 243 Qualities, 274
Psychological task, 265 purposeful, 306
Psychological terminology, 379 transcendental, 306
Psychological theory, 254, 384 Quantitative, 274
Psychological understanding, 228 Quantum physics, 306
Psychological writings on forgiveness, 229 Question, 250, 256, 352-353, 390, 403
Psychologist, I 76ff, 214, 249, 336, 356, 375 Questioning, 337, 343ff
clinical, 199 Questionnaire, 287
Jungian, 360 Quiet, 219
social, 199, 204
Psycholog~ 179,220,228,255,274,279,284, Racism, 262
309-311, 368 Radical behaviorism, 274
approach in, 273-274 Rage, 21 1-212, 229,238
as transpersonal, 277 Rape, 211, 263
clinical, 214 Rapture, 310
"depth," 197 Rational/emotive processes, 277
"fifth force," 276 Rationalization, 213, 362
"fourth force," 274, 283 Reaction formation, 362
mainstream, 274 Reactions, 355, 362
philosophy and approaches in, 273-274 The Reality, 253
"third force," 274 Reality, 277, 305, 311, 313, 322, 344, 353, 370, 376
Western, 252, 368 altered, 343ff
Psychology and grace, 375--377 colossal, 396
Psychology of forgiveness, 227-245 dual nature of, 309, 317
Psychology of religion, 249, 252, 254 formless aspect of, 3 19
Psychology of women, 157, 160--161, 168 fundamental, 289
Psychosis, 238, 241, 377 human, 368
Psychosocial need, 336 infinite, 396
Psychospiritual development, 248-252, 265, 268- inner, 315
269 inseparable, 315
Psychospiritual journey, 259 internal, 362
Psychospiritual maturity, 266 living, 362
Psychospiritual path, 247-269 objective, 283
Psychotherapeutic interpretation, 361 orientation, 343ff
Psychotherapeutic relationship, 222, 242, 361 outer, 315
Psychotherapist, 228, 230, 242ft 330, 335 personal, 313ff
Psychotherapists' approach, 363 physical, 283
Psychotherap~230,242-245,309,361,363 single, 315
depth,245 transcendent, 278, 402
implications for, 227-245 transcending, 306
personal, 242 transconceptual, 278
practice of, 228 transpersonal, 278
Punishment, 219, 227 transpersonakpiritual dimension of, 319
Pure consciousness, 277-278 ultimate, 254
Pure essence, 311 universal. 378
Pure phenomenology, 7 vibrant, 362
434 SUBJECT INDEX

Reality of the situation, 354 Relationship (cont.)

Realization, 376, 378 intimate, 285
Really feeling understood, 24-30, 275 loving, 239, 321
Realness, 318 meaningful, 285
Reason/logic, 300 mutually empowering, 268
Receptive regard, 204 power with, 251
Receptivity psychotherapeutic, 222, 242, 361
empathic, 197 reciprocal, 341, 368
passive, 194-195,201-202,204 symbiotic, 336
Reciprocity, 265--268 teacher--student, 322
Recognition, 235, 303, 322 to others, 245
Reconciliation, 241 to self and others, 237, 244
Recrimination, 229 troubled, 229
Reexperiencing, 187-188 with children, 343ff
Reflection, 5, 9, 13,22, 30-31, 55--59, 65, 187, with God, 252, 259
232,341,364 with oneself, 241
critical, 199 Relationship of mutuality, 264-267
disciplined, 276, 365, 379 Reliability, 63--83, 212-213
empirical phenomenological, 30-38, 42-43, 165 Relief, 219, 361, 396
existential-phenomenological, 5, 7, 259--268 Religion, 228, 253, 257, 259, 264-265. 269, 283,
individual phenomenological, 30-38, 42-43, 336,339,376,404
162,364 psychology of, 249, 252
phenomenological, 273, 275 Religious acceptance, 390
Reflective awareness, 275--276, 279, 305 Religious activity, 388
Reflective analysis, 129 Religious authorities, 260-261
Reflective attitude, 16 Religious backgrounds, 393
Reflective comprehension, 339 Religious behavior, 230
Reflective dimension, 165 Religious belief, 249, 260-261
Reflective experience, 275 Religious belief system, 340
Reflective interpretation, 311 Religious ceremonies, 213
Reflective level, 237 Religious circles, 384
Reflective process, 278, 379 Religious community, 248, 258-260, 263-264
Reflective self, 261 Religious connotations, 227
Reflective--prereflective realm, 27fr-277 Religious contexts, 261, 264
Regret, 240 Religious cultures, 253
Reinforcement, 274, 402 Religious experience, 283, 375--376
Rejection, 316, 402 Religious groups, 388
Rejuvenation, 317, 319 Religious images, 247-248, 258-260
Relating, 259, 263-264 Religious life, 105--107
Relational authority, 266 Religious orders, 360
Relational capacities, 259 Religious organizations, 388
Relational domain, 266 Religious perspective, 374-375, 383
Relational experience, 264, 268 Religious practices, 258, 260
Relational perspective, 264 Religious revelation, 393
Relational spheres, 267 Religious ritual, 365ff
Relationship, 219, 231, 233, 235--236, 242-243, 248, Religious sentiments, 249
253-254,265--266,322-323,328-330, Religious stories, 261
333,337,353,361-363,365ff,375,404 Religious symbols, 239, 252
abstract, 267 Religious systems, 374
B-love,323 Religious tenets, 258, 260-261
collaborative, 251 Religious theory, 254, 384
conflicted, 260 Religious tracts, 361
feminine, 267 Religious tradition, 248, 255, 258, 260, 265, 377
human, 331, 361 Religious usage, 374
"I-Thou," 363 Religious voice, 251
interpersonal, 200, 242 Religious writings on forgiveness, 229
SUBJECT INDEX 435

Remembering, 365ff The sacred, 251, 332, 376

Remorse, 238 Sacred experience, 275-276, 278, 310
Renewal, 34~347 Sacred marriage, 283
Renunciation, 286 Sacred nature, 40 I
Representations, 250 Sacred processes, 259, 263, 265, 268
Repression, 323 Sacred silence, 318-319
Research, 202, 219ff, 228, 248-249, 252, 255, Sacred space, 319
265-268,279,286,312, 320, 322,336ff, Sacred union, 320
355,363, 370, 378ff, 388ff, 393ff Sacredness, 332, 377
doctoral, 336 Sadness, 238, 244-245, 316, 344,350-351
empirical, 21-49, 64-65, 69,114-115,128,176, Scars, 219
181,185,228,255 Schema, 251
existentially oriented, 248 School, 249
person--perception, 204 Science, 368
phenomenological method, ix, 7, 111,209,273, empirical, 384, 388
275,277,279,337 Scientific community, 388
psychical, 283 Scientific paradigm, 282
psychological, 269, 322 Scientific research, 183, 361
psychologists, 319 Scientific understanding, 373
scientific, 183, 361 Scriptures, 278
traditional methodology, 229 Secrec~220,224,353
Research assumptions, 379 Secular experience, 376
Research community, 388 Security, 316
Research design, 214, 248, 336 Seeing, 178, 188, 191, 194, 196,203,264,277,
Research in cultural anthropology, 247 339,348
Research in psychospirituality, 248 acts of, 188, 192
Research findings, 231, 318 as grasping, 193
Research groups, 232 horizon of, 192
Research method, 128-134,231,311,324 process of, 203
Research on transpersonal experience, 277-279 Seeking, 201-202, 205
Research phenomenon. 181,379 Self, 278, 310-311, 319-320, 373
Research process, 232 transpersonal aspects of, 310
Research project, 223, 286, 322, 364 Self, 149, 197,238,242,245,250,253,259,265,
Research question, 181, 231-232 268,300-302,309,322-324,329-330,
Research situation, 182 337,347,369,374-375,378
Research study, 286, 339 active, 261
Research subjects, 203, 214, 312 ambiguous, 141
Research topic, 311 boundaries of, 376
Researcher's approach, 69, 71, 75 curious, 261
Resentment, 228-230 deeper, 322
Resistance, 300 dissenting, 261
Resolution embodied, 268
path of, 148-149 the eternal, 374
Resolve, 241 false, 241, 375
Respect, 322, 327, 396 fragmentation of, 210
Responses, 274 fragmented, 261-262, 265
Responsibility, 229. 233, 236, 241, 369 future, 138, 151
Restlessness, 316 genuine, 328
Resurrection, 374 higher, 318
Revelation, 23~237, 391, 393, 398 ideal, 141, 149
Revenge, 234 inner, 311, 381
Risk, 296ff in relationship, 331
Ritual abuse, 212-214, 219ff inquisitive, 261
Ritual, 360, 365ff negative, 141
Role awareness, 198 past, 142, 145
Role models, 265 personal, 319
436 SUBJECT INDEX

Self (com.) Self-growth, 266

present, 136--137, 142, 150 Self-hate, 220
reflective, 261 Self-ideal, 141
sense of, 233-234, 277, 323, 343 Self-identity, 278, 318, 376
sensuaI-spiritual, 268 Sel~image, 143,219,243,322,375-376
sexual, 261 Self-induced change, 30 I
social, 261 Self-justifying, 376
spiritual, 252, 261 Self-learning, 347
transcendent, 375 Self-loathing, 244
transgression of, 354 Sel~love,321-323,376,381
true, 375 Self-medicate, 335
validation of, 376 Self-monitoring presence, 198
whole, 265, 268 Self-mutilation, 21 Off
Self-abuse, 211 Self-nature, 326ff
Self-acceptance. 259, 264-265, 267, 321-322 Self of all beings. 374
Self-actualization, 285, 306, 310, 323, 330. 332, Self-other process, 267
376,378,383 Self-other understandings, 259
Self-affirmation, 267 Self-perception, 265, 354
Self-alienation, 145 Self-possession, 244
Self-assertion, 251 Self-presentation, 195-197,202
Self-authority, 251, 259-260, 265-266. 268 Self-preservation, 250
act of, 265 Self-project, 129, 141, l44tf
experience of, 266 Self-psychology, 335
Self-awareness, 330, 332, 363 Self-questioning, 345
Self-care, 241 Self-realization, 283, 347
Self-centered interests, 250 Self-recognition, 347
Self-confidence, 322, 376 Self-recrimination, 238, 241
Self-confident motivation, 376 Self-reflection, 215, 340, 342, 393
Self-consciousness, 137, 144, 198 Self-reflective experience, 198-199
Self-criticalness, 245 Self-reflective knowledge, 162
Self-critical thoughts. 239 Self-reflective sensitivity, 342
Self-cutting, 209ff Self-regard, 376
nonsuicidal, 214-215 Self-rejection, 140
Self-deception, 117-118, 191 Self-report, 199,202,283
Self-definition, 135-\36, 140, 142, 148,243 Self-representations, 250
Self-deprecation, 143, 147 Self-sacrifice. 250, 262
Self-described experiences, 374 Self-scrutiny, 201, 204
Self-description, 196 Self-surrender, 374
Self-destructive behavior, 212 Self-transcendent. 248
Self-disclosure, 193, 195 Self-transformation, 127, 137ff, 347, 389-393
Self-discovery, 319 Self-transformative experience, 355
Self-disesteem, 137ff Self-transformative potential, 337
Self-dislike, 136ff Self-understanding, 142, 267, 319
Self-embraced, 313 Self-validating, 376
Self-enhancement, 251 Self-validating experience, 278, 318
Self-esteem, 322 Self-will, 267
Self-experience, 198, 261 Self-worth, 376
Self-exploration, 243, 264 Selfbood,247
Self-expression, 197 Selfless love, 377
Self-forgetful, 285, 376 Selfless service, 378, 383-385
Self-forgetful experience, 310 Selfless surrender, 383
Self-forgetful perception, 285, 376 Selves in conflict, 251
Self-forgiveness, 228, 231-232, 237-242 Sensation, 279
Self-fulfillment, 285 Sensation of the body, 322, 343
Self-givenness, 199 Sense eXperience, 315
Self-gratification, 249 A sense of, 190
SUBJECT INDEX 437

Sense of awe and privilege, 359 Sexual body, 269

Sense of community, 368 Sexual desire, 253, 261,265
Sense of connection, 355 Sexual energy, 253
Sense of divine plan, 397 Sexual femininity, 265
Sense of homecoming or rescue, 397 Sexual interests, 261
Sense of independence, 244 Sexual orientation, 263
Sense of identity, 323 Sexual repression, 160
Sense of involvement, 241 Sexual self, 261
Sense of liberation, 228 Sexual tones, 253
Sense of morality, 231 Sexual union, 253
Sense of power, 347, 355 Sexual/spiritual conflict, 261
Sense of reconnection, 228 Sexuality, 160,219,253,265--266
Sense of relief, 361 Shadow, 274, 283
Sense of sacredness, 377 Shakti,253
Sense of safety, 327 Shamanic culture, 321
Sense of self, 233-234, 277, 323, 343, 369 Shamans, 310, 331
Sense of serenity and peace, 368 Shame, I 23ff, 209, 220, 224, 228, 242-244, 259,
Sense of unity, 360 344,362,369
Sense of world, 353 ambiguity of, 124--128
The senses, 203, 274, 313ff, 383 Shock,343,352,354
bodily, 253 Shyness, 123 ff
physical, 314--315 Significant statements, 165, 288ff, 312, 325, 380, 394
Sensing, 178, 339 Silence, 160, 278, 309ff
Sensing presence, 203 Sin,251,253,374,392
Sensitivity, 244--245, 337, 402 Sister Death, 369
self-reflective, 342 Situated freedom, 275
Sensory alterations, 313ff Situated structure, 22, 40, 43-44, 47, 132-133
Sensory assault, 352 Sleep, 311
Sensory awareness, 310, 319 Sleep disturbance, 204
Sensory experience, 385 Social behavior, 161
Sensory input, 276 Social custom, 249
Sensory processes, 278 Social history, 96
Sensual being, 266-267 Social phenomenology, 191
Sensual body, 269 Social psychological perspective, 231
Sensual femininity, 265 Social psychologist, 199,204
Sensual metaphor, 253 Social reality, 9
Sensual tones,253 Social self, 261
Sensual-spiritual self, 268 Social welfare, 378
Sentient beings, 356 Society, 336-337, 361, 368-369, 389
Sentiment, 329 Sociologist, 336, 356
Separateness, 241 Solace, 262-263,350
Separation, 254--255, 348 Solidarity, 369
Serenity, 316 Solitude, 31 I
Service, 337, 376-378, 383-384 Soul,253,276,278,362,369,374--375,378,384
charitable, 377-378 awakening of, 329
loving, 385 dark night of the, 323
voluntary, 373-385 universal, 378
Sex,253 work of the, 356
Sex roles, 161 Soul awareness, 276
adaptability, 169 Sovereign awareness, 276
Sex typing, 161 Space, 276-277,286,313,317,375,396-397
Sex ual abuse, 21 I, 236 disorientation of, 285--286, 376, 383
Sexual arousal, 264 experience of, 376
Sex ual assault, 263 transcendence of, 377
Sexual authority, 266 Speech, 310, 333
Sexual beings, 262, 266 nonviolent, 317
438 SUBJECT INDEX

Spirit, 254, 268, 279, 283, 310, 316, 322 Spiritual relationship, 248, 259, 263-268
human, 337, 349 adult,265
Spirit-self, 252, 266 collaborative, 266
The spiritual, 332 embodied, 266
Spiritual aspects of dying, 361 structured, 266
Spiritual assault, 213 Spiritual science, 393
Spiritual authority, 266, 268 Spiritual Scriptures, 399
Spiritual awakening, 363 Spiritual self, 252, 261
Spiritual awareness, 283, 369 Spiritual suffering, 336
Spiritual being, 267 Spiritual symbols, 283
Spiritual beings, 262 Spiritual task, 251, 265
Spiritual beliefs, 258 Spiritual teacher, 321 ff, 332
Spiritual center, 311 Spiritual teachings, 321, 363, 399, 404
Spiritual characteristics, 306 Spiritual thought, 324
Spiritual conflict, 252 Spiritual traditions, 309-311, 320-322
Spiritual connection, 219, 368 Spiritual truth, 404
Spiritual consciousness, 283 Spiritual values, 362
Spiritual context, 259, 265, 269 Spiritual vision, 404
Spiritual death, 369 Spiritual way, 363
Spiritual desire, 253 Spiritual well-being, 374
Spiritual development, 250-252 Spiritual world, 306
Spiritual dimension, 237, 278, 328, 362 Spiritual writings, 278
Spiritual energy, 333 The spiritual/sacred, 326ff
Spiritual enlightenment, 253 Spirituality, 259, 263-264, 268--269, 362, 365ff,
external authorities, 262 388
feminine superiority, 158 adult,252,258--260, 264-268
Spiritual essence, 333 embodied, 252-255, 269
Spiritual experience, 233, 251, 255, 275-276, 301, experientially based, 258--259, 265, 267-268
303,332 feminine, 258
Spiritual forgiveness, 229 formative, 249, 252
Spiritual guides, 321 gender-free, 259, 268
Spiritual identity, 375 immature. 252, 266
Spiritual images, 268 mature, 252
Spiritual interconnectedness, 369 modern,268
Spiritual knowledge, 374 transcendent, 252-255
Spiritual life, 375 Western, 252
Spiritual literature, 383 "womon-centered," 259, 267
mystical experience, 283 Stage theories, 249-250
"Spiritual me." 375 Stages, 232, 289ff
Spiritual mind, 311 developmental, 337, 339
Spiritual orientation, 390 Stages of faith, 249
Spiritual nature, 375 States of consciousness, 305, 310, 375
Spiritual need, 363 States of mind, 276
Spiritual paths, 263 Stereotypes, 159
Spiritual person, 253, 261 gender-role, 260
Spiritual perspective, 327 sex-role, 160
Spiritual phenomenon, 248, 278, 404 Stigma, 336
Spiritual philosophy, 278 The still point, 319
Spiritual "power or strength," 167 Stillness, 276, 278, 310-311, 313
Spiritual practice, 253, 278 Stimulation, 338
Spiritual preference, 261 Stimuli, 274
Spiritual principles, 250 Story, 131, 191, 199,216,218
Spiritual privilege, 363 Story analysis, 191
Spiritual process, 265 Stream-of-consciousness, 191
relational context, 264 Strength, 347, 350
Spiritual psychology, 276 Stress, 300
Spiritual quality, 222 Structural analysis, 269, 339, 360
SUBJECT INDEX 439

Structural definition, 312, 325, 341, 367, 380, 383, Subjectivity of women's experiences, 255
395,403 Submission, 263
Structural description, 191-192,204 Subpersonalities, 215-216
Structural features, 191 Suffering, 254, 316, 335-356, 366, 378
Structural framework, 192 emotional, 323
Structural relationship, 186 psychological, 330
Structural summary, 288ff, 352 Sufi teacher, 325
Structural thematizations, 189 Suicide, 211, 219, 237-240, 360
Structural units, 288ff Superego, 160
Structure, 18,21-23,31,36,42, III, 114, 127, Supernatural world, 381
134,162,164,183,187,191,193,231, Support, 330, 354,362-363,369,400-401
255-256,286, 379ff, 403 Supraconsciousness, 252, 266
comprehensive thematic, 288 Supreme Being, 382
configural, 191 Surrender, 282, 303-304, 374-375, 383, 385,
embodied,275 396--397
essential, 186, 218-219 Surrender of control, 295ff
final, 164 Survey, 210
fundamental, 30-38, 42-43,165,289,365, historical, 368, 376
379-380 Survival, 338, 369
general,40,43,47, 114, 128, 133-134, 192, Symbiotic relationship, 336
218-219,256,258-259 The symbolic, 376
lived, 123, 125, 128, 152,275 Symbols, 15,213,220
personality, 228, 375 cultural, 252
phenomenological, 116--117, 120 linguistic,377
prereflective, ix, 162, 165,275,287, 312, 340, religious, 239, 252
379 Synchronicity, 281-306
psychic, 376 Synchronistic experience, 302
psychological,222 Synchronistic occurrences, 295ff
"sedimented," 182 Synchronistic teleology, 302, 304-305
situated, 22, 40, 43-44, 47, 132-133 Synthesis, 352
thematic, 393 System, 250
underlying, 329 belief, 250, 340, 390, 400
universal, 189 religious, 374
Structure of being human, 310 System of philosophy, 274
Structure of meaning, 339 System of reference, 404
Structure of personality, 375
Structure of receptive experience, 186 'Tacit" knowing, 176
Structure of self-forgiveness, 237 Tantric yoga, 253
Structuring the world, 175 Teacher, 249, 326ff
Struggle, 250, 339, 345, 353, 355, 359, 396 Technique, 230
with the divine, 251 Technolog~368,389
Student, 321 ff, 335-336 Teleological flow, 302, 304
Stupor, 316 Teleology, 283-285, 303-304, 403
Style, 42, 183, 191, 194, 197,204 Temporal horizon, 9
cognitive, 178, 186 Temporal logic, 191
communicative, 259, 265-266, 268 Temporal order, 284
literary, 220 Temporal perspective, 274
perceptual, 185, 199 Tenderness, 327, 338
Style of the experience, 286 Terminal disease, 362
Subject, 214ff, 232, 255, 287ff, 312, 323, 340, 379 The terminally ill, 373-385
Subject-object, II Thanatology, 361
Subjective experience, 255, 283, 361 clinical, 363
Subjective illusion, 376 Thankfulness, 316
Subjective nature, 404 Thematic, 128-129
Subjective understanding, 255 Thematic convergences and divergences, 78
Subjectivity, 176--177,201 Thematic field, 185
human, 87-107 Thematic meanings, 67, 395
 440 SUBJECT INDEX

Thematic object, 197-198 Time, 133,254,277,286,305,342

Thematic results, 76 disorientation of, 285, 376, 383
Thematic structure, 393 linear, 277
Thematic understanding, 192, 195 spiritually significant, 363
Theme, 16,29,44,46,65,70,81, 185, 189,217, transcendence of, 377
232,235,256,275,282,284,289,300, transformations of, 134, 138-139, 142
303,317,319,326,329,332,341-342, Time lapse, 295ff
352,368, 378, 380ff, 388-389, 394ff, 403 Timelessness, 313, 315, 319, 329
constituent, 288ff, 312ff, 325ff, 342ff, 365ff, Timidity, 316
373,377, 380ff, 394ff To be, 274
descriptive, 289 Tolerance, 215, 353
final, 312 Torture, 213
fundamental structural, 165ff Touch,349,353,366
general, 256 Trance phenomena, 213
general structural, 189 Tranquility, 310, 374
perceptual, 191 Transcendence,237,252-255,265,318-319,377
reflection of, 288, 294ff emanational, 254
Theme analysis, 191 ultimate, 311
Theme clusters, 312ff, 341, 364-365, 380, 394 Transcendence of
Theologian, 252, 254, 336, 376 ego,328
Christian, 374 the self, 310
feminist, 247 The transcendent, 269, 278, 301, 329
moral,336 Transcendent awareness, 313, 360
Theological circles, 384 Transcendent characteristics, 306
Theological concepts, 228 Transcendent experience, 248, 27'5-276, 278-279,
Theological quagmires, 388 283,318,376
Theology,228,253-255,404 Transcendent intelligence, 302
feminist, 25 I Transcendent reality, 278, 402
Theory, 254, 380 Transcendent self, 375
preconceived, 229 Transcendent spirituality, 252-255
psychoanalytic, 254, 361 Transcendent unity, 318
stage, 249-250 Transcendent/spiritual awareness, 276--277
Theory of death instinct, 361 Transcendent/spiritual Self, 310
Theory of immanence, 253 Transcendental intersubjectivity, 181
Theory of individuation, 284 Transcendental phenomena, 310
Theory of psychospi ritual development, 248-252 Transcendental processes, 304
Theory of the Absolute, 252 Transcendental sense, 329
Therapeutic aspects, 330 Transconceptual reality, 278
Therapeutic benefits, 332 Trans-egoic concepts, 283
Therapeutic relationship, 222, 242, 361 Trans-egoic experience, 276, 318
Therapeutic setting, 329 Trans-egoic processes, 304
Therapeutic support, 214, 222 Transfiguration, 392
Therapeutic work, 362 Transformation, 97, 129, I37ff, 223, 237, 240, 250,
Therapist, 209, 213ff, 230, 239, 242, 309, 339, 313,318-320,325,332,389-393,398
361-362 inner, 327, 332
Therap~209,228-229,330 Iife-, 374
cognitive, 148 personal, 318
play, 229 self-, 127, 137ff, 347, 389-393
Thinking, 178, 339 Transformation of
conceptual, 3 18 experience, 25 I, 259
dichotomous, 252 identity, 210
technological, 202 Transformational experience, 395, 401-403
Thinking of thinking, 311 Transformative effects, 402
Thought processes, 314 Transformative experience, 240, 346, 350, 403
Thoughts, 274, 277, 286, 333, 341, 354ff, 400 Transiency, 377, 391
conflicting, 324 Transintentional awareness, 277
Thoughts on death, 360 Transintentionality, 277
SUBJECT INDEX 441

Transition, 234, 361, 363 Understanding (cont.)

Transpersonal aspects, 318-320, 332 fore-structure of, 186
Transpersonal awareness, 273--279, 3 \3 foundational, 258
Transpersonal context, II, 277 historically contextualized, 255
Transpersonal dimensions, xiv-xv, 248, 318, psychological, 228
328-329 scientific, 373
Transpersonal experience, 233, 277-279, 318, self-other, 259
350 sociocultural, 252
Transpersonal implications, 306 subjective, 255
Transpersonal quality, 349 thematic, 192, 195
Transpersonal reality, 278 Understanding of ego, 327
Transpersonal realm, 318-319 Understanding of grace. 383--384
Transpersonal state of being, 319 Understanding of passion, 278
Transpersonal state of consciousness, 30 I Understanding of sex. pleasure, and pain, 253
Transpersonal theory, 283 Understanding of sin, 251
Transpersonal world-view, 273 Understanding of spirituality, 268
Transpersonal/metaphysical properties, 326ff Understanding of transpersonal and transcendent
Transpersonal-phenomenological psychology, 273, awareness, 277
277,279,320 Understanding/commitment, 326ff
Transpersonal-phenomenological research, 320 Unfoldment, 333
Transpersonal psychology, 274, 283, 310 Unifying state, 375
Transpersonal/transcendent approaches, 277 Union, 253, 309, 318-319, 329, 378
Transpersonal/transcendent awareness, 275-277 sacred, 320
Transpersonal/transcendent qualities, 279, 282 Unitive consciousness, 310
Transpersonal/transcendent reality, 319 Unitive experience, 248
Trans-sensate states, 318 Unitive space, 276
Trans-situational horizon, 192 Unity, 278, 286, 318, 322, 360, 369, 376
Trappists, 3 10 Universal laws, 329
Trauma, 211, 212, 219, 222, 300 Universal soul, 378
recovery, 222 Universal structure, 189
Treatment, 214, 220-222, 362 Universality, 329, 375-376
Trust, 209, 221-222, 241, 298ff, 319, 331 Universe, 253,305-306,3 \3,315,319,376,381,
Truth,82,143,283,309,369,374,391,398,404 384,389
absolute, 311, 395, 398-399 The unknown, 363
literal, 213
paradoxical, 266 Validation, 341, 399-40 I, 403
Turmoil, 250 Validity, 164,201,212,222,380
emotional, 258, 262 external, 256
interpersonal, 258, 262-263, 268 internal, 256
Typifications, 195, 204 ontological, 389
Typifications of consciousness, 9 Values, 128, 310, 323
hierarchical order of, 10 cultural, 227
temporal, 9 moral, 149, 160
spiritual, 362
Ultimate reality, 254 ultimate, 376
Ultimate values, 376 Violence, 210-211, 227
Unanimity, 283 Virility, 264
Unconditional love, 319, 321 ff, 397 Virtuous acts, 374
The unconscious, 283, 300 Vision, 285, 301, 311, 315, 404
Unconscious material, 250, 266 cosmic, 369
Unconscious motives, 274 living, 323
Understandability, 256 mystical, 392
Understanding, 134, 193, 195, 221, 231-232, 240, Vision of being, 333
245,275,285,304,309,325,329,332, Vision of God, 389
335,340,342,347,356,370,374-375, Vision quest, 310-311
378,398-399 Visual perception, 376, 383
Christian, 374 Void, 251, 319, 376
442 SUBJECT INDEX

Voluntary service, 373-385 Words, 277, 284, 288fT, 317, 321,323,341-342,

Volunteer, 335fT, 378-379, 382, 384 355,400
Vulnerability, 242 Work,249
World, 233. 237-238, 241, 254-255, 274-275, 278,
Waking state, 315 282,285-287,312,314,318-319,321,
"Walk-through" interview, 163,216-217,287- 324,327,329-330,333,337,340,347-
288,312,325,340-341,364,379, 348,353,360,376,379,395-396,40!fT
393-394 another, 395
"We-experience," 368 ego-based, 306
Well-being, 322, 376 external, 306, 332
spiritual,374 festive, 87-89, 98
Western Christian tradition, 310 holistic, 306
Western culture, 369 inner, 306, 333
Western psychology, 252, 368 involvement in, 261
Western spirituality, 252 material, 306
Wholeness, 323-324, 376 outer, 333
Will, 237, 251, 263-264 physical, 274
divine, 251 present, 150
Wisdom, 311, 374, 383-385, 393, 404 sense of the, 353
Wise man, 283 social,274
Wishes, 361, 40 I spiritual, 306
Wish-fulfillment, 249 supernatural,381
Withdrawal, 209, 264 workaday, 87-89, 98
Woman, 157-173,219,253-254,263-264, World as sacred, 384
267-268,361 World behind the world, 329
development of, 158 World in its own being, 285
embodied, 266 World-view, 249, 273-274, 305, 353
emerging, 251 holistic. 283
in history, 170 Written reports, 288fT
Latin American, 157-173
mystical sense, 251, 266 Yoga, 374
psychospiritual path, 247-269 karma, 378
resolute, 251 practices, 278
spiritual experience, 251 principles, 278
Woman's experience, 158, 209-224 Tantric, 253
Woman's power, 159 Yogi,3!1
Women's consciousness, 157
Wonder, 366, 396 Zeal,278
The Word, 254 Zen Buddhism, 268