Alejandro Jodorowsky - The Dance of Reality - A Psychomagical Autobiography

I went to see my mother, and just before I took out the ball and gave it to her, she said to me, “I’d like to make you a black shirt,” and began to take the measurements. I was very surprised, I let her measure me and then gave her the ball. She looked at it, scratched it with a fingernail and smiling, said, “The paint comes off easily.” I answered her, “The black goes away, but the weight remains.” She began to cry. I held her in my arms for a long while. Today I am breathing much better.

3. THE LOST COLOR

A tiny painful detail hinders overall development. I have often compared a problem that is considered small to a nail in the shoe. Although small in size, it affects one’s whole gait. This is the testimony of José Zaragoza, a Mexican poet living in Paris.

Knowing the work of A.J., I went to have him read the Tarot cards for me. At that time I was obsessed with the idea that I caused fear in people, an idea reinforced by the fact of my being a foreigner. Without further ado Mr. J. said, “The devil should be dressed in red,” and advised me to get dressed from head to toe in clothes of that color. I simply refused, because I had a strong fear of the ridiculous. But the next day, out of pride rather than conviction, I decided to carry out the prescribed treatment, adding on a scarf in the style of the Tarahumara people, which, as we know, is red and is worn on the forehead. The experience was terrible. At the corner by my house I encountered a group of people who looked at me, surprised. “I’m going to a costume party,” I stammered. In the metro things became almost unbearable. Everyone stared at me, from head to toe. I felt bad because I have always wanted to pass unnoticed, and this was impossible for me under such circumstances. Back at home I felt extremely tired and dirty. I took a shower and felt better. The next day I noticed that my perception had changed significantly. I felt as if I had taken a dose of medicine. I saw red as orange, orange as yellow, and so forth. I went out into the street and found that indeed my perception had changed and that I must be getting used to seeing the whole range of warm colors differently. Although this situation was somewhat embarrassing, I did not feel at all bad, and was able to perform my normal activities. Dressed in red, I went to all the places I normally go, saw all the people I usually see. A week later I had integrated myself into the prescribed color. It was then that I remembered a definite event in my childhood: one day, my mother had ferociously reprimanded me for a small fault saying, “You’re a devil.” This irritated me profoundly and made me blush. She insisted: “You see, now you’ve even turned red!” I then had a fit of inexpressible anger; once this passed over, I became extremely sad: I realized that my mother did not like the color red. From that moment on I removed it from my clothes and, as is obvious from my appearance, got rid of the smallest details relating to red, even though it was my favorite color. When I got that color back, thanks to the act of psychomagic, I regained the world. My trouble was resolved.

4. MILK IN THE EYES

Some physical diseases can be cured with symbolic elements.

The day after my mother died, my eyes began to hurt. The pain lasted eight years and no medicine could alleviate it. You gave me the following advice: “Go to your garden on a moonlit night accompanied by your husband and boil a liter of milk. Let it cool down, bathed in the moonlight. Then repeatedly rinse your eyes with the milk, until dawn.” I did this. The pain disappeared.

5. A DEVOURER OF DENIALS

The whole is present in every part. More often than not, when we get angry it is for reasons other than what we think, and what we demand is not what we really want.

I came to consult you because my son was having fits of anger, demanding things, kicking and screaming. You advised me to give in to his demands, but to satisfy them partially, not completely: “If he wants chocolates, give him one. If he wants cake, give him a small piece, and so on.” I wondered how this could make the child stop throwing one fit after another. Well, for the first few days it was the same as always: he ate up the first chocolate then howled for the second. One day he ate a whole packet of chocolates and ate five gumballs (which I had badly hidden) in one bite. And of course, as usual, he had a fit of rage.

Then, little by little, I realized one thing you’d suggested to me in the reading: I was impatiently saying “no” to him all day. Very few “nos” were because of actual danger, and a great many “nos” were because his demands were disrupting my habitual activities. That is, I only noticed him when he bothered me. For this reason he did everything he could to bother me, especially out of the house where he was not at risk of violence from me. Now, for a month, not a single “no” has escaped my mouth. For a month, whenever we have been together, I have given him my complete attention. His tantrums have ceased. We get along very well. But now I realize that I am lacking a husband, and he a father.

6. ASPIRING TO BALDNESS

Sometimes the daughter’s disease is only the mother’s disease.

This is what I told you: “I pluck out my hairs one by one and chew them between my teeth. I feel this has something to do with my relationship with my mother. I do not know how to stop this habit.” You replied: “You are pulverizing your lover with your teeth. Every hair you pluck out and chew brings you closer to baldness and therefore further away from men. Your mother, abandoned while she was pregnant, has given you a terrible image of your father. You see men through her gaze. You feel too much in this world. When you go to bed, pull out a hair and give it to your mother to chew. While she munches on it, she should stay very close to you and sing you a lullaby. The next morning she should wash your hair and then comb it gently.” I carried out everything that you advised. Strangely, my mother, always so taciturn and cold, collaborated in the act with her entire soul. While combing my hair she began to cry, asking for forgiveness. I no longer pluck out my hair, and my relationship with my mother has improved.

7. METAPHORICAL REALIZATION OF LESBIAN INCEST

Certain neuroses of failure come from a prohibition of sexual pleasure. Most diseases are caused by a lack of freedom. When the client’s way of getting sexual pleasure is not criticized, when she feels she has been given “permission,” then she ceases to unconsciously attach herself to her incestuous desire and allows her dreams to be realized.

My greatly deteriorated relationship with my mother was affecting my femininity. Despite my intense desire, for years I had not been able to have children. When a pregnancy occurred, I always miscarried. Psychoanalysis made me aware of a great lesbian psychological tie with my mother, who was so absent and so desired before being so hated. Knowing that my mother has lived in the Antilles for fifteen years, and I have almost no contact with her, you proposed that I make a huge salad of fresh exotic fruits to eat in the company of a woman, any woman, without giving her any explanation. At work I have a colleague my age who, like me, is called Catalina, and has a little daughter. The ideal person! We often eat a sandwich together in the coffee shop. That day she was very pleasantly surprised when I invited her to share an abundant exotic fruit salad. We ate zealously. In the following months I gave birth to a boy, conceived with awareness and loved. His name is Ángel. His father was born and raised in the Ivory Coast amid exotic fruits such as those I shared with my colleague.

8. REPENTANT PROSTITUTE