Why I’m Reposting This Now
When the world feels dark, we cannot pretend otherwise. But if we have ever encountered the divine in our own suffering, we know that beneath the surface something is still growing. What feels barren may in fact be preparation, and something unseen continues its work within us and among us.
Last May I wrote about the secret blooming that occurs in solitude and shadow. I’m sharing it again because the reminder feels timely.
We live in a culture that fears solitude. But Carl Jung reminds us that being alone — whether in grief or in facing a part of our shadow self — something green begins to grow. This “blessed greenness,” as the alchemists called it, is the soul’s quiet promise that what feels barren may be secretly blooming. Under the blackness, we carry the fairest green — the life force of transformation itself and thus our loneliness is not punishment. It is preparation.
Jung wrote about a woman — rooted in myth, cloaked in symbolism — who withdrew into solitude, cloaked in blackness, only to discover something hidden beneath: “the fairest green.” This passage, drawn from his — Mysterium Coniunctionis, par 622-623 speaks to an experience more common than we realize, though rarely named: the secret joy that arises not in spite of suffering, but within it. In loneliness, loss, or isolation, something unexpected can awaken — a quiet, generative greenness of the soul. He draws on rich symbolism: the Shulamite from the Song of Songs, Parvati the mountain-dwelling goddess, and the imagery of alchemical transformation. But at the heart of this passage lies a universal truth: our darkest seasons are often the soil in which the deepest growth is taking root.
In the mythic imagination, Parvati grieves her blackness — her shadowed self — and retreats to the forest. Similarly, the Shulamite woman speaks from a place of aloneness, yet her words are not filled with despair. She says:
“What shall I say? I am alone among the hidden; nevertheless I rejoice in my heart, because I can live privily, and refresh myself in myself. But under my blackness I have hidden the fairest green.”
Here, “blackness” symbolizes more than sadness, it is our encounter with the shadow, the unknown part of ourselves we or others may have rejected. In psychological life, this blackness might show up as depression, confusion, heartbreak, or the feeling of being lost. Yet Jung reminds us that this is not just torment, it can also be, paradoxically, a time of secret happiness because when we are stripped of the outer roles and routines that define us, we meet something else — our soul.
Busyness, entertainment, and constant connection with others keep us from this kind of deep encounter with the Self. But when life interrupts us — through grief, betrayal, loss, or illness — we find ourselves alone, something mysterious can happen.
Jung calls this “a relationship that seems like the happiness of a secret love.”
It’s a startling idea. In solitude, when everything seems barren, we find not just ourselves — but an inner partner. This inner greenness is not visible at first. Like a seed buried in the dark soil, it waits. But in the silence, in the waiting, it begins to grow.
Blessed Greenness: The Soul’s Promise
In alchemy, the benedicta viriditas — blessed greenness — is a powerful symbol. It is the spark of life inside of what seems inert. Verdigris, the green rust on aging metal, was considered both a corruption and a sign of the divine spirit at work. The Alchemists saw green not only as the color of hope and rebirth, but also of spiritual perfection. It signified that something hidden was coming alive.
Jung quotes the alchemist Arnaldus de Villanova, who says that the green within the substance is what turns to true gold — not the “common gold,” but something far rarer. This is not about material wealth, or outer success, but about inner transformation, a soulful encounter and the capacity to love. In astrology, gold corresponds to the Sun, which rules Leo — the sign of a radiant heart and authentic self-expression.
Jung draws on this when he writes, “Green signifies hope and the future... but in alchemy green also means perfection.”
This is the quiet joy that Jung describes. It is not a surface happiness, but a deep peace that comes from being aligned with the truth of one’s being. It is the joy of becoming whole — not perfect which implies purity, but not contaminated with unconsciousness. Edward F. Edinger in Mystery of the Coniunctio says:
“The symbolism of purity, in psychological terms, means that we are conscious of our dirt, not that we don’t have dirt but it’s purified dirt because we’re conscious of it. And that makes all the difference.”
In psychological terms, this “green” represents the capacity of the soul to renew itself, to grow. Even when life has gone cold, even when our ego feels defeated, the deeper psyche — the Self — continues its movement toward healing. Darkness and despair from life’s vicissitudes are not the end of the story but the ground from which the gold will be born. Call it wisdom, or soul-maturity, or spiritual integration, it is the result of a long, often painful, encounter with one’s own shadow, limitations, grief, and loss.
But unlike ego-driven achievement, this gold does not shine in public, it glows quietly within — humble, sacred, and utterly real. This kind of growth cannot be rushed or even fabricated through the will. Like spring after winter, it follows its own rhythm and yet, when it comes, it changes everything.
Perhaps the most healing message in Jung’s reflection is that in being alone, we find out who we are beneath the personas we wear. We grieve the ways we have been misunderstood, abandoned, or even self-abandoned. But if we turn the page after a dark night of the soul experience, we also begin to hear something deeper — the voice of the Self calling us home.
From Shadow to Springtime
Everyone at some point must descend into their inner forest. Everyone will feel, at times, the weight of their own blackness, what the Alchemists called our shadow, the prima materia, but this descent is sacred and a prelude to spring. The Shulamite, Parvati, the alchemical green — all point us to the same truth that what we think is the end may be the beginning of a deeper becoming. Often, the worst thing that ever happened to you is the best thing.
I lost my left eye in 2013 and it was devastating. I could not get on freeways easily or change lanes. I tripped and fell from having no depth perception. Driving in the dark became dangerous so I am limited to going to places that are close by in the evening. The doctor did an experiment on me. He made a mistake and he blinded me. In Texas because of the medical malpractice tort reform you cannot sue a doctor easily unless you have substantial financial resources. After many phone calls, I eventually found two lawyers, a man and woman team who agreed help me. Then, they proceeded to lie to me and not return phone calls. They dropped my case two weeks before the end of the statute of limitations. I later discovered they had professional ties to the opposing legal team, which left me feeling betrayed and abandoned.
After three years of drinking myself silly, feeling like a victim and pushing away everyone that was dear to me from my dark depression, I went to see my Jungian analyst who had retired to live in Austin, Texas. He listened to me empathically and told me I was suffering from PTSD and it was normal to feel what I was feeling. Then he said one sentence to me that snapped me out of it. He said, “Let’s see what the unconscious wants from you.” On the bus ride back from Austin to Houston, I knew exactly what it was that I refused to “SEE.” With that insightful aha, my healing began and I dove further into reading Jung. I read the three volumes on Alchemy by myself as I had no one to tell or talk about what I was learning. Those books are complicated but I am an Astrologer so I knew the astrological symbolism and had learned the meaning of the alchemical processes through a book by Liz Greene and Howard Sasportas called the Dynamics of the Unconscious. At that point, I had studied both Jung and Astrology twenty-three years. When I came upon the para 622-623 in Mysterium Coniunctionis, I could feel what he meant. I was feeling this joy inside myself more and more with every passing day.
And then, something uncanny happened — a synchronicity. I love to sing and I go to karaoke weekly. One day I was in the grocery store and I heard a song that just started playing in my mind. The song is I’ve Never Been Loved Like This Before by Stephanie Mills. I only knew the chorus and I thought to myself, sometime I need to sing it. The very next day I went back to the grocery store for something I forgot and as I was pondering, what was that song? Right then as I had the thought, I turned down a different aisle and it started playing in my mind again. I knew I had never heard anyone sing it in karaoke but my unconscious knew the lyrics of the song and more than that, it knew what I was feeling. I went out to my car and brought it up on YouTube. I had chills all up and down my body when I heard the lyrics. I felt both joy and gratitude.
Never Knew Love Like This Before
I never knew love like this before;
Now I’m lonely never more,
Since you came into my life...
You are my lovelight, this I know,
And I’ll never let you go;
You’re my all, you’re part of me.
Once I was lost, and now I’m found,
Then you turned my world around;
When I need, I call your name...
‘Cause I never knew love like this before;
Opened my eyes,
‘Cause I never knew love like this before;
What a surprise,
‘Cause I never knew love like this before...
This feeling’s so deep inside of me,
Such a tender fantasy;
You’re the one I’m living for...
You are my sunlight and my rain,
And time could never change
What we share forevermore...
Ooh, hoo... I never knew love like this before;
Now I’m lonely never more,
Since you came into my life...
Jung’s writings offered me something affirming and sacred. Solitude, sorrow, and encountering one’s shadow are not signs of moral failure — but thresholds of becoming the individual we each came here to be. Life brings us detours and experiences that may at first appear senseless — but they are part of the path of individuation. Beneath our pain, something meaningful is at work — something green and growing. The world does not often celebrate this kind of transformation so it remains below the surface of our existence but the soul celebrates for us and with us.
