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Passage III
I have
noticed in the course of my psychoanalytic work that the state of mind of a
man in contemplation is entirely different from that of a man who is
observing his psychic processes. In contemplation there is a greater play of
psychic action than in the most attentive self-observation; this is also
shown by the tense attitude and wrinkled brow of contemplation, in contrast
with the restful features of self-observation. In both cases, there must be
concentration of attention, but, besides this, in contemplation one exercises
a critique, in consequence of which he rejects some of the ideas which he has
perceived, and cuts short others, so that he does not follow the trains of
thought which they would open; toward still other thoughts he may act in such
a manner that they do not become conscious at all—that is to say, they are
suppressed before they are perceived. In self-observation, on the other hand,
one has only the task of suppressing the critique; if he succeeds in this, an
unlimited number of ideas, which otherwise would have been impossible for him
to grasp, come to his consciousness. With the aid of this material, newly
secured for the purpose of self-observation, the interpretation of
pathological ideas, as well as of dream images, can be accomplished. As may
be seen, the point is to bring about a psychic state to some extent analogous
as regards the apportionment of psychic energy (transferable attention) to
the state prior to falling asleep (and indeed also to the hypnotic state). In
falling asleep, the "undesired ideas" come into prominence on account
of the slackening of a certain arbitrary (and certainly also critical)
action, which we allow to exert an influence upon the trend of our ideas; we
are accustomed to assign "fatigue" as the reason for this
slackening; the emerging undesired ideas as the reason are changed into
visual and acoustic images. In the condition which is used for the analysis
of dreams and pathological ideas, this activity is purposely and arbitrarily
dispensed with, and the psychic energy thus saved, or a part of it, is used
for the attentive following of the undesired thoughts now coming to the
surface, which retain their identity as ideas (this is the difference from
the condition of falling asleep). "Undesired ideas" are thus
changed into "desired" ones.
The
suspension thus required of the critique for these apparently "freely
rising" ideas, which is here demanded and which is usually exercised on
them, is not easy for some persons. The "undesired ideas" are in
the habit of starting the most violent resistance, which seeks to prevent
them from coming to the surface. But if we may credit our great
poet-philosopher Friedrich Schiller, a very similar tolerance must be the
condition of poetic production. At a point in his correspondence with Koerner, for the noting of which we are indebted to Mr.
Otto Rank, Schiller answers a friend who complains of his lack of
creativeness in the following words: "The reason for your complaint lies, it seems to me, in the constraint which your
intelligence imposes upon your imagination. I must here make an observation
and illustrate it by an allegory. It does not seem beneficial, and it is
harmful for the creative work of the mind, if the intelligence inspects too
closely the ideas already pouring in, as it were, at the gates. Regarded by
itself, an idea may be very trifling and very adventurous, but it perhaps
becomes important on account of one which follows it; perhaps in a certain
connection with others, which may seem equally absurd, it is capable of
forming a very useful construction. The intelligence cannot judge all these
things if it does not hold them steadily long enough to see them in
connection with the others. In the case of a creative mind, however, the
intelligence has withdrawn its watchers from the gates, the ideas rush in
pell-mell, and it is only then that the great heap is looked over and
critically examined. Messrs. Critics, or whatever else you may call
yourselves, you are ashamed or afraid of the momentary and transitory madness
which is found in all creators, and whose longer or shorter duration
distinguishes the thinking artist from the dreamer. Hence your complaints
about barrenness, for you reject too soon and discriminate too severely"
(Letter of December 1, 1788).
And yet,
"such a withdrawal of the watchers from the gates of intelligence,"
as Schiller calls it, such a shifting into the condition of uncritical
self-observation, is in no way difficult.
Most of my
patients accomplish it after the first instructions; I myself can do it very
perfectly, if I assist the operation by writing down my notions. The amount,
in terms of psychic energy, by which the critical activity is in this manner
reduced, and by which the intensity of the self-observation may be increased,
varies widely according to the subject matter upon which the attention is to
be fixed.
From Sigmund Freud,
The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. A. A. Brill.
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