What comes to mind when you read the term libido? Oh, come on, don’t be bashful. You know you are thinking that libido is the way we speak about psychic energy that is directed between the polarity of opposites: inner/outer, up/down, full/empty, and so on. Wait, you had something else in mind? Sexual connotations? Well, yes, that too, but that is not the only location for this charge. The sexual instinct is but one of the various instincts and drives that act as channels through which libido, the concept that Freud, Jung, and others began exploring through the lens of psychology beginning in the late 1800s, flows. Jung states, “We would be better advised, when speaking of libido, to understand it as an energy value which is able to communicate itself to any field of activity whatsoever, be it power, hunger, hatred, sexuality, or religion, without ever being itself a specific instinct” (Symbols of Transformation, para. 197). So, libido is not directly equated with sex? Hang on… These are the kinds of exciting bits of confusion we find in language and meaning that catch my attention and beckon my desire to investigate. Let’s explore this a bit.
The act of taking the time to deconstruct language often pays off tenfold. My exploration of the etymology of the term concept is one such endeavor that continues to be bountiful. The origin of this term is linked to the Latin term concipere meaning, “to take in and hold; become pregnant,” also from the root kap “to grasp” (Oxford English Dictionary, Etymology). One interpretation is that a concept is an idea that grabs us, that we gestate and nurture. The concepts that we hold take on life, after their conception, they seek direction, and they influence and act upon us. I offer this here to suggest that the terms that we use, especially when they have an emotional charge, tend to transform ideas into more concrete (i.e., easier to grasp) and fixed realities as we use them more and more. After years of use, terms and their various meanings become more static. The act of poking around with the etymology of a term seeks to remove the boundary lines that occur with time and reclaim the fluidity of meaning. What does this intimate for concepts such as libido? Cassell’s Latin Dictionary defines libido as “violent desire, appetite, longing.” Of course, this definition makes sense with the sexual function. However, it makes just as much sense when speaking about one’s purpose, love, hunger, or any drive at all, actually (maybe the “violent” part doesn’t apply, until we investigate a bit further). So let’s do that, from Cassell’s, violent: “having some quality so strongly as to produce a powerful effect.” With this in mind, violent does not only mean aggression and pain, but it does imply a “powerful effect.” Now we are getting somewhere. To summarize, libido is the term we use to mean psychic energy that, when constellated, has a quality that produces a powerful effect; not only within the domain of the sexual function, also within the domain of many other drives and functions – religious, spiritual, hunger, power, and so on.
From the moment of our birth, this powerful dynamic activates. The little, freshly born baby is bombarded with the reality of the physical world and is thrust into the process of adaptation. At this moment, our baby ego starts to write the story of the world and her place in it. One of the great paradoxes of our lives is that we are both in the world and of the world, and the conflict that this paradox creates some refer to as consciousness. And, as we all know, consciousness is no walk in the park. I imagine birth to be one of the most significant shocks of our life as our sensory systems come on-line, our lungs breathe their first molecule of oxygen, we seek touch and connection as our voice cries out. This is the voice that cries out to express a newly discovered need, and hopefully, in the most ideal of times, the voice is met by someone who “gets” the need and responds by providing what is needed. Touch. Food. Calm. Connection.
Subject (ego), meet Object (outer world).
Object, subject.
Now let the miracle of consciousness ensue.
Edward Tronic, a Harvard-based developmental psychologist, researches the power of this energy dynamic between infant and caregiver, in particular the mother, in his StillFace experiment. Check it out here. This video is one of the most remarkable illustrations of this dynamic, subject/object, I have seen, although the examples are endless. The video displays the necessity for psychic energy to connect with and constellate between an external, outer object. It also illustrates what happens when we do not have a healthy connection and reflection. We do not and cannot exist in a vacuum. In the video, we watch as a mother, while maintaining eye contact with her infant, shifts from participating in the dance of connection and feedback to no longer doing so – it looks as if she takes a beat and then just stares back at the baby. Very quickly, without this reflective energy, the baby begins to try and reconnect with her mother. Within the two minutes of the experiment, the child becomes, well, violent (overwhelmed by powerful energy). She arches her back, cries uncontrollably, eventually she completely dysregulates, as, without the healthy attachment dance, we suffer greatly. Yes, we suffer when our psychic energy is not flowing back and forth, between subject and object, and a powerful force may ensue. In response to this powerful force we may respond by taking healthy risks, an act that may result in generating new life along with the associated feelings of joy, anxiety, excitement, curiosity, etc. If we respond in maladaptive ways, or we do not have the appropriate inner or outer containers for this flow of energy this same life-force may be reduced, resulting in a depletion of these energies and a flood of feelings such as depression, listlessness, helplessness, etc.
The following is an example of this process as it expresses itself in both a developmental and spiritual form a few years after birth:
Around the age of five or six, I ran away from home. Well, I attempted to, that is. I recall the event like it was yesterday. In a surge of emotional charge, seemingly unlike anything I had felt before, I decided that I had had enough. So, I did what obstructed energy does, and I found another path. A pathway through my yard and into the great unknown. After packing my Snoopy suitcase with only the absolute basic needs for survival…
Stuffed animal. ✓
Change of underwear. ✓
Cartoon pajamas. ✓
My feet carried me outside of the front door of my house, into my yard, and out into the world as my wise parents watched the charade from inside my house. I imagine them thinking, or even saying to each other, “let’s see where this goes.” As evidenced by the bang-up and thorough packing job that I did, I was prepared to endure the overwhelming and harsh nature of the world outside of my safe and secure home. And why would I want to leave such a safe and secure environment? Well, in the moments leading up to the great escape, my home was taken over by unreasonable dictators who would not act in accordance with my will.
It is safe to say that as my feet touched the curb that marked the boundary line between what was familiar, reliable, and secure and the unknown world, I felt anxiety swell. But that was not the end of it, determined as I was, I pressed on and looked down my street and could see … the end of my road. Stay or go? Now, that image is the sight that is forever burned into my memory. I did not have the following words then, but if I did, I know that I would have said, “Oh shit!” This image, the street that links up to another, larger street, that links up to an even larger street was just too much for me to comprehend. I had met my match, and I was not ready to face my encounter with the infinite. Psychologically, I was not prepared to experience that degree of anxiety and fear of the unknown world. Practically, I had not even thought to bring a snack.
The act of retrospection often provides a new perspective, new meaning and, therefore, a new way to know our self and a new way “see” our place in the world. There I was. On the curb. Scared about leaving. Angry about returning. Caught between two poles. On the one hand, adventure and anxiety, while on the other security and safety.
My five-year-old self did not “know” what to do next, other than get off of that curb as quickly as possible and head back inside. But what happened with all of that energy? As we all know, energy does not just disappear, it transfers, converts, travels in new directions, sometimes to find other channels and sometimes it overwhelms the banks of its container. Again, psychologically when the libido is repressed from the outer world depression is more likely to emerge – hence the symptom of losing interest in outworld activities that used to provide a sense of aliveness and joy. When this happens in the outer world, the result is what we Houstonians, and Texans contended with several years back during the flood that Harvey brought. The same principles exist in the inner world. The flood. This swell of tension, anger, fear, and will had to go somewhere. The psychic energy, when manifest, will find a channel through which to be expressed. If it is not expressed it dams up (stuck), dries up (stagnant), flows back to the source (repression), or it emerges as a physical symptom – we all know that “stress” impacts our physiology. The flooding of psychic energy may manifest in the outer world as a physical symptom or as a psychological one. Take grief, for example. The outer object (our beloved) is no longer present; therefore the energy that flows back and forth needs to find another object. In the most adapted times, this is the process of grieving, wherein all of the energies that once flowed between the I and the other go through the process of converting, transforming, as new symbols emerge. A few examples include days where we remember our loved ones, and we may continue to talk to them, to write to them, as if they are still here. Or in less adapted ways, we may disconnect from our life-force, imagining that the process is too much for us to handle or contain. The result, in this case, maybe a depression, which is the way we talk about libido that has flowed back into the subject as it seeks another inner or outer container with which to connect. Psychologically and spiritually, we call this container a symbol. Think about a few potent religious symbols for a moment, and you will have a solid idea about where psychic energy can be contained.
The cross. The Torah. A prayer mat. A mandala. For me, rather my five or six-year-old self, two images, or symbols, manifested to contain this libido – musician/artist and a police officer (I loved C.H.I.P.S. and G.I. Joe). These images provided me the psychosocial landscape to work through what emerged on that curb (i.e., how-to manage overwhelming anxiety and work to become one’s authority).
The artist expresses that which is ineffable, transforming the overwhelming into something beautiful, evocative, grotesque, and the like. A physical expression of an internal conflict. Or in the case of the aesthetically pleasing, converting ecstasy into creativity. The container of the musician/artist continues to provide a valuable vessel for me to experience, explore, transform, and transmute the ineffable energies of living that continue to present themselves through and within my life. For my child self, the cop was a strong authority, who, in my estimation, would never let something like anxiety or fear keep them from standing up for what they believe. I found my symbols. Or they found me.
We find this dynamic process in both our outer lives and our inner lives. From the perspective of the outer – sex, grief over the loss of a loved one, the dance of attachment with a loving caregiver, fear about the learning curve in a new job. Within our inner lives, we experience so many different relationships and conflicts; after all, there are many different parts of our self. Jung identified five main instinctual drives: reflection, creativity, activity, sexuality, and hunger. The drive of reflection is one I would like to draw out in closing. Reflection provides each of us the opportunity to discover how we really feel, what we really need, and who we really are so that we can become more of who we were created to be. If anyone of us adapts too far into the outer world, we may become outwardly “successful,” but our inner life suffers. Correspondingly, if we adapt too far to the inner world, we are no longer able to participate in a shared reality. Maybe, through a process of reflection such as the one in which you are currently engaged (by reading this article, of course) we are more likely to release the overly bound ideas and concepts formed throughout our lives, and we may free them to flow. We may query them, rather than act them out as if they are the great dictators of our lives. We may break down the dam. To set free our hearts. Communicate more openly. Express ourselves in less contained ways. To direct the flow of our desires – both within and without. To connect more intimately with friends, family, and others. And yes, one aspect of this is could be a more open and fluid sex-life, but this is only one part of a greater whole.