The inexplicable

“The greatest and most important problems of life are all fundamentally insoluble. They can never be solved but only outgrown.” ― C.G. Jung

I believe that Jung was on to something here, but I would replace “outgrown” with “acknowledged.” Most every situation in life – good and bad – lingers as an emotional footprint, continuing to impact us in both subtle and dramatic ways. Change does not erase nor reconstruct the past, but rather builds around it, like tree roots stretching over the remains of an old stone wall.

The same durability applies to our old wounds and traumas. No amount of therapy or self-confrontation will erase or displace them, as they are important moments of our past, not to be fixed or dissolved, but having a purpose for being there; teachable moments, if you will. They are the legacies of our pasts, testaments to where we’ve been, and stepping stones to where we can go, if only we are willing to honor their place in our life’s wider narrative.

On second thought:

All of this sounds lovely and inspirational, but I’ve sugarcoated it with a generous amount of poetic BS as well, wanting to believe that everything has its place and reason. And like any fan of wishful thinking, I often choose to believe my own poetic BS. However, if I’m to be completely honest, with both you and myself, then here is the ugly truth, as I see it:

Shit happens, but we don’t always know why, what to do with it, nor how to relieve our suffering over it.

Following the tragic death of his young son, Rabbi Harold Kushner authored his best selling book, “When bad things happen to good people.” His premise being that how we respond to the inexplicable, painful situations in life is what matters, not so much the reason why they happened, which is often beyond our comprehension. He goes on to explain that God is here to help us endure the pain of the inexplicable, and heal from it. This is all well and good, and I don’t disagree in principle, but this feels similar to Jung’s idea of outgrowing the painful past. The slight difference being that Rabbi Kushner makes God’s love and healing powers seem like a compromise or compensation for the universe’s random persecution of us, whereas Jung implies that, over time, we naturally forget our inconsolable traumas or replace them with something more important or advanced. Hmm, none of this seems quite right though, with God being reduced to a trauma therapist, and old traumas riding off into the sunset, never to be heard from again.

To see the flaw in the above, one only needs to look at the persistence of pain in the world, given the prevalence of mental health issues, the pandemic of addictions, and the widespread incidents of violence. Simply stated, we are haunted by the pain that we cannot explain, continuously seeking to either contain it, manage it, escape it, or seek justification for it.

At first, we try to make sense of this inexplicable stuff within a broader context, giving it an elegant role within our life’s story or spiritual agenda. Yet, deep down in our gut, this stuff perpetually sticks out like a sore thumb, not quite fitting any narratives or explanations we’re able to conjure up. Life is like this, full of square pegs that don’t fit our carefully rounded holes – not something that we choose to teach our children or preach at the altar, but this is reality nonetheless, and it is obvious to the eyes that are willing to see it.

Our inability to make sense of a past situation is what keeps us stuck to it, endlessly ruminating over what happened and why, as if we’ve stumbled into a section of unfinished universe, where the rational or logical is missing – maybe even God’s presence. And within this unholy gap, we experience perpetual distress over what we cannot connect with meaningfulness, feeling vulnerable to the inexplicable, ashamed of what we’re unable to explain about our past, like having untenable holes in our resume of life. Yes, we attempt to minimize this distress by endlessly rewriting our stories, but self-delusion only works for so long, and the depression, anger, and anxiety eventually return.

I can’t speak for Carl Jung’s life, but my 58 years are filled with insoluble problems and inexplicable, painful situations that do not fade or lose their urgency over time – that I’ve not outgrown. They are like homeless people tapping on my windows, never letting me forget their faces, reminding me that I’ve not given them the dignity of belonging somewhere, nor comprehending their reason for being.

© 2021 David M. Rubin. All rights reserved.