Jodorowsky, Alejandro - Psychomagic - The Transformative Power of Shamanic Psychotherapy

I agree.

I told myself then that you, as a writer and a friend, could give form to this knowledge to which I am only a servant. I insist then on this dimension of service. Oh, I know, it sometimes happens that I am unbearable: I am a mystical clown, a surrealist of spirituality, a panic provocateur . . . But I have truly, sincerely worked on myself. You may think me an exuberant charlatan, but I am nothing less than an honest man, a creator touched by the suffering of beings who wanted, all of their lives, to serve the beauty that frees them. Psychomagic is part of the best I have in me. What I aspire to, in all honesty, is sharing—for my good and for the good of others. If this book brings a degree of recognition, that is extremely good, but that is not my business. It is truly in a spirit of service that I conceive this book with you.

Briefly, Psychomagic is a purely spiritual approach . . .

Exactly. I concentrate on action—on relieving suffering by prescribing an act—without worrying about the fruits that I could personally harvest. Because of this, Psychomagic could not be relegated to a medical or paramedical approach. It rests before everything on detachment from the practical.

Will it always be possible to remain detached? A number of therapists fall into the trap. When they earn their living by their practice, material necessity makes them take on more and more patients nonselectively.

Even if demand forces me to make Psychomagic a professional practice, I will never find myself financially dependent on it, for the good and simple reason that comic books and cinema suffice for me to live well. And yet, I do not have any intention of abandoning the artistic creation. From the material point of view, detachment comes from knowing that I can stop at any time and not find myself without resources.

Can you clarify what you understand as “ detachment,” not only from the material point of view but in respect to the practice of Psychomagic itself?

To be able to help a person, it is necessary to never expect anything of him and to penetrate all aspects of his privacy without getting personally involved. I will give you an example. A participant in one of my massage courses could not bear to have someone touch her chest. As soon as a man, even a man whom she desired, pretended to brush her breasts, she would start screaming. This caused a lot of suffering, and she wished deeply to be free of this irrational panic. I proposed that she take off her shirt. This she accepted, revealing beautiful breasts, which were not monstrous or unusual. I asked her, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she responded.

“I would like to touch you in a particular way, which is unlike both the touch of a desirous man playing with your body and the cold medical examination. I would like to touch you with my spirit. Do you think I could touch you, establish an intimate contact with you which is not sexual at all?”

“Maybe . . .”

I then put my hands three meters from her breasts and spoke to her softly, “Look at my hands. I am going to approach you slowly, millimeter by millimeter. As soon as you feel attacked or bothered, tell me to stop, and I will not advance any farther.”

Then I very slowly moved my hands closer to her. I found myself ten centimeters from her breasts when she asked me to stop. So I obeyed. Then, after a long moment, I got really close to the painful zone. Slowly, very slowly, I again began to move my hands toward her, very much listening to what was happening with her. Reassured by the quality of the attention I showed her, feeling that I operated very kindly, she did not emit the least protestation. In the end, my hands were on her chest, to her amazement, without her feeling any pain.

Why I have I told this story? Because this example shows the kind of “detachment” that is, I believe, indispensable to anyone who truly wishes to help others. I could touch, feel the breasts of this woman by being something other than my sexual “I,” without thinking for one second of taking pleasure from this touch. In fact, it was with my soul that I touched her. At that moment, I was no longer a man but an entity. It is necessary to be able to touch the body of another in order to contact the spirit, without this proximity awakening unresolved issues in ourselves. I cited you the case of a pretty woman but, without a doubt, I should make clear that I have touched all sorts of people, old, young, beautiful, ugly, at times deformed or sick . . . What is important is to position oneself in an inner state that excludes all temptation to profit from the other or to abuse the power that one has over the other. Because, at the end of the day, whether through tarot, massage, or Psychomagic, nothing acquires sense but by a unique force, a detached energy that, at times, stirs a human being to help another human being. It has to do with a pure energy, very pure, very simple, and very subtle. In the instant that personal will, desire, or fear comes into play, the relationship of help loses its justification and becomes a masquerade. I do not say that, in me, these manifestations of the ego can’t surge when I act, but if I recognize them immediately for what they are and I let them pass as thoughts, pass as in Zen meditation, then they can fade straightaway without influencing the relationship with the person who gave me an opportunity to help. I am very conscious of the necessity for inner purification, ritual ablutions that have been preconceived well enough by tradition and that release not only attachments of the body but, above all, those of the heart and the soul. Looking at it another way, what good does it do to beat my head against the wall if I am not purified, sufficiently transparent? I remember a Zen story along this line: Walking in snowy country, the disciple asked the master, “Master, the sidewalks are white; when will they lose this color?” The master did not respond right away. He concentrated in his hara, and then said, in a harsh voice, “When the sidewalks are white, they are white; when they are not white, they are not white!” What a great response! The essential is to accept oneself. If my present condition bothers me, that’s a sign for me to correct it. So, more or less consciously, I try to be distinct from what I am; in short, I am not me. If, on the other hand, I accept my state at the moment, I am at peace. I do not whine under the pretext that I must be more of a saint, more beautiful, more pure than I am—here in this moment. When I am white, I am white; when I am obscure, I am obscure. That’s it! That does not prevent me from working on me, to seek to become a better instrument; this acceptance of myself does not limit my aspirations but rather sustains them. Because one can only advance from where one truly is.

This, you say, carries the possible risk of misrepresentation: if I understand you, only a person who has already worked a lot on his own problems can give psychomagic advice. I would go as far as to say that this approach is yours alone, the fruit of your very specific journey, and it appears difficult for others to apply it. Perhaps, some could be inspired by it, but no one could know how to play it the way you do. Yet, we know well enough that you have been a role model. Your nights of Mystical Cabaret attract a range of people, some of whom believe themselves more advanced than they really are and use your lessons for their own benefit.

Alas, this is true. I will cite but one example of this kind of attitude. After hearing me talk a bit about Psychomagic, a guy quickly authorized himself to practice it. He organized a stage and, with a lot of confidence, prescribed some women to do the same act: each must buy a big pair of scissors and send it as a gift to her mother! What a catastrophe! Actually, there is much more advice than there are people, and it would not be possible to prescribe acts en masse. The psychomagic supermarket is an aberration. Each act is “tailor-made,” based on listening deeply and, as I have already explained, on a spontaneous contact with the unconscious, which is the only way to render this specific disidentification possible—only as the fruit of long spiritual work. To prescribe the same act to a group, without really listening and without true love, seems criminal to me. One can image the reaction of the mothers receiving the scissors by mail . . . That can only have a negative effect. When I prescribe a seemingly aggressive act, I only do it having the certitude that the consequences will be positive. It is always about an essentially creative act. This man, on the contrary, has exercised a destructive influence.