http://www.rugile.lt/, http://www.vilkise.com/

Rugile Jungian Analyst, Vilnius (2025)

29/08/2025

23rd International Congress of Analytical Psychology, Zurich, Switzerland.
Moments with colleagues, new encounters, resonant themes and presentations. In my case - carefully guarding the boundary against potentially overwhelming external content, stepping back at the right time, returning to my own center, my own themes. Meetings with teachers, therapists, supervisors, creative ideas for the future. Incredibly joyful news - warm congratulations to our professor, Gražina Gudaitė, the future president of the International Association for Analytical Psychology (IAAP). Historical and symbolic places - the hardly accessible C.G. Jung Tower in Bollingen, the roots of depth psychology. Books.

During breaks - pausing to exchange thoughts and impressions, discussing the topic of substances and vibrations with a colleague: should I attend the lecture on psychedelics? What place do psychoactive substances have within the Jungian analytical community? Do I even have the resources to go deeper into this?

I decide not to, because much awaits me: my travel notes from Tibet, the drawing of the Arcana of Acceptance, my own book - all of which demand significant energy, and I cannot afford to scatter it. I do not go, because my path has always been vibrational medicine - not the path of psychoactive substances, but of subtle information carried by the needed substance, potentized essence, vibrational resonance. When I speak of psychology, the spiritual realm, the metaphysical world, and the ways only few has worked with the psyche for millennia, this is the path I mean.

It is a path often said not to exist. Probably because those who follow it never try to persuade or recruit, they have no crowds of students, they do not seek to demonstrate or prove, they do not interfere with others’ choices, nor are they interested in masses, power, or fame. To find them, one would have to seek out hermits in caves. It is a path that has always been protected - which is why it is said not to exist.

By choosing not to walk the paths of others, I accept that the forces stirring within the soul guide each of us in different ways - and I invite no one to follow mine.

29/07/2025

#56 When I look at my completed Arcana of Opening (Revelation), I recall that the first image to emerge was Tutankhamun holding a large serpent in his hands. I immediately understood—it was the very snake whose skin I would later need to use to decorate the Arcana. I had such a skin, gifted to me by a woman who had withdrawn from our group, as if passing the mantle for this work on to me. She offered me the shed skin of her snake, which I kept in a small box for a long time, treating it as something deeply precious and symbolic.

From that gift, I learned that before shedding its skin, a snake’s eyes become cloudy, veiled by a milky film. I recognized the same sensation within myself—a state difficult to name—a felt sense of inner dimming, as if the world outside had turned slightly opaque, its contours softened. That mist, that fogginess in perception, became a signal. It marked a threshold: the moment when my inner serpent was preparing to molt, when I was entering a time of renewal.

The Arcana, centered on the theme of bareness, of shedding protective layers—how to remove the outer armoring, the masks concealing our true form—posed a painful question: how do we open the chest, expose the heart not only for deep healing, but also for the terrifying vulnerability that healing entails? From the very beginning, this arcana was guided by a dream—a dream in which we were told that deep within the heart lies a labyrinth, or perhaps a spiral. I felt how crucial the image of the labyrinth was, and the teaching of the white-robed figures in that dream: you must learn to draw this symbol with precision. Only then can you find your way out.

27/07/2025

#55 That which can kill us may also resurrect us. Poison and medicine often dwell in the same vessel - what harms or heals depends on how, when, and by whom it is used. Knowledge revealed prematurely becomes poison for one, while for another, in the right moment, it arrives as a long-awaited remedy. I have reason to believe we are entering a time of greater unveiling - the lifting of Isis’s veil - and this will come at a cost. In ancient Egypt, a young man in the city of Sais who dared lift the veil from the face of Isis was sentenced to immediate death. And yet, long-hidden mysteries, the ultimate and highest truths, may reveal themselves in visible form. But the question remains - who among us is capable of withstanding such truth?

A symbol always contains both poles - it opens into a depth where contradictions coexist. A sign, on the other hand, holds a fixed meaning: “no entry,” “stop,” “pedestrian crossing.” It allows no ambiguity - any deviation is a violation, met with a penalty. A sign is flat, literal, and unambiguous. But a symbol is not a sign. It is multidimensional, never merely surface. A symbol is a portal - an opening - into other realms.

Photo:
Frontispiece to the book Anatome Animalium by Gerhard Blasius. It shows a personification of science unveiling a personification of nature whose appearance is inspired by the classical goddesses Artemis and Isis.
Engraved by Jan Luyken
1681

26/07/2025

#54 Akhenaten’s name, inscribed on the temple wall thousands of years later.

“You are so complicated,” Horus says to me with a smile on our final day together. He laughed so much one evening when I, quite seriously, told him about the snake I believed I was meant to protect.

“You came all this way—thousands of kilometers—to save a snake?”

“Yes,” I told him.

“Alright then,” he laughed. “Let it be so.”

I understand the snake is a deeply ambivalent symbol—often associated with danger, even death, something to be feared and eliminated. Here, when a dangerous snake is found, almost the entire village rushes in and the men kill it—“the energy at that moment,” Yvon said, “is like evil itself has been conquered.”

And then I arrive, saying: “Don’t touch the snake. Don’t harm it. It’s important.”
I must have seemed completely irrational, almost childlike, lunatic. They laughed, but out of politeness didn’t argue. Some tried to explain, gently, that the snake was deadly. “One bite, and that’s it,” one of the inspectors warned me, drawing a hand across his throat to show what he meant—just in case I didn’t understand his words.

“Yes, I know, I do understand,” I told him in affirmation.

25/07/2025

#53 I cannot explain with my left brain or analytical mind how I managed to resolve deeply embedded, paralyzing, and suppressive physical symptoms—ones that no other method seemed able to shift. These symptoms had long prevented me from fully engaging with my creative process, as if something within was actively sabotaging me, robbing me of the ability to bring forth the ideas I inwardly sensed. Yet by following an inner guidance, I fulfilled everything, carried it through—and something deep in my soul finally healed. Something properly died, was buried, and then resurrected. There has always been a part of me that lived in another time, and it seems I could only free that part through the tools of that era.

I remember how, in 2016, while traveling with a group on the island of Samothrace, I climbed onto a rock and saw a strange symbol carved into it—a single letter A, as if handwritten. I walked past, then turned back to pick it up.

Some time later, I felt that this A symbol was part of my identity, and over the years, I bestowed upon myself an additional name based on the month I was born—August(ina), or in Lithuanian, Rugpjūtė.

In the desert, after completing the final ritual and as we were walking back home, I unexpectedly looked down and saw—right there beneath my feet—another stone bearing the letter A, the second in my life. Turning the stone three times, I watched the three A’s transform:

Akhenaten.
Aten.
Akhetaten.

24/07/2025

#52 Before returning once more to Upper Egypt, I deeply felt that my spiritual task was to inscribe Akhenaten’s name on the temple walls. Yet I had no idea how this would come to pass. I shared this inner sense with Yvon and Horus. I felt personally touched by the relevance of this integration—so much so that I knew I had to act.

There is a sacred place, one I can barely describe, as it remains inaccessible to Christians, a site forbidden in Egypt. Yet this was the place where I was to symbolically carry Akhenaten’s bones. Horus invited us to join a group of Lebanese women who, as Muslims, were permitted access. In the afternoon, several jeeps were prepared so we could drive as far as possible through the sand. We wrapped our heads in scarves and merged with the group. I understood that as the sun set, I had come here to offer my greeting and undergo purification. Yet I also knew I had to return alone at sunrise to perform a crucial ritual—one I hadn’t known beforehand but which revealed itself layer by layer, as I remained present to whatever arose. Only through remembrance and a series of rituals—first in the temple, later in the lands of Thoth and Amarna—did clear inner knowledge emerge. No one else could have named it for me.

When this new knowing emerged and integrated with all I had known before, I shared my insights with Yvon. Without her and Horus’s support, these opportunities for fulfillment would have remained beyond my reach. Their unconditional heart-based presence, our evening conversations about my inner impressions—these were among the most precious and indelible experiences of my life.

On the final morning, just before dawn, dressed in traditional jellabiyas, we set out on foot with our guide. The village was still cloaked in darkness as we passed through, then moved beyond its edge into the open desert. We walked for about an hour in one direction. I walked holding this moment as the greatest gift—an act of fulfillment.

22/07/2025

#50 The question—how do I truly know what my direction and path are—can only be answered in connection with that vast, infinite world. From it arises the true voice of the heart, which is why it is so elusive, intangible, and difficult to sense—it cannot be heard or felt clearly until our perception becomes attuned to it.

It’s like the way we cannot hear certain frequencies that birds or animals can, or the way we cannot see ultraviolet light and the subtle qualities beyond it. If we are not open in this connection, then we tend to choose our life direction based on what we already know, or on what others—who may have touched that infinity—have told us through their own experience and interpretation.

But I want to hear what emerges from my own lived encounter with the unknown. I remember, long ago, just before awakening, I heard a voice—almost frightening—say: “The Kalbė will come and take what belongs to you.”

Only years later did I realize that in Arabic, qalb means heart.
And so I keep waiting—for the moment my heart will come,
and wondering how I will meet it:
whether I will offer up what is mine willingly,
so that it will not need to take it.

14/07/2025

#48 I reflect on Dr. Ibrahim Karim’s model of reality, which I often share when asking specialists across fields—where do psychotherapy, astrology, osteopathy, vibrational and resonance-based medicine fit within this schema? Where do dreams arise from?

Contradiction becomes inevitable when the integration of archetypal energies in the psyche gradually becomes personified—when the experience of absolute, multilayered reality is filtered through our nervous system and then incorporated into our inner world through symbolic forms and recognizable figures. This process becomes part of our cultural data bank, shaping how we compare and interpret new experiences.

Thus, contradiction arises not only between different forms and appearances that people use to recognize themselves but fundamentally between form itself and the formless, pre-experiential, abstract, undivided reality. It is precisely contact with this kind of light—perhaps we could call it higher reality—that draws us back to our origin, away from dominant belief systems or habitual modes of knowing. These systems typically rely on form—forms observed in nature, in the visible world we use to define ourselves.

In the deepest sense, the conflict is between abstract light and the world of natural forms. And yet, in truth, there is no real conflict—only a cycle, an evolutionary unfolding. But the psyche, bound to familiar and thus “safe” shapes, creates this inner contradiction.

Contact with the unknown—a vast, immeasurable, formless totality—can be so overwhelming, so threatening, that it provokes a panic-level fear of dissolution. Alternatively, it can inflate the ego to a sense of omnipotence. Yet when the ego remains humble and grounded, it can stay afloat in this encounter, avoiding inflation or annihilation, and instead sustain a continuous connection to something greater. This kind of connection is the aspiration—one that becomes possible only through the integration of all inner contradictions.

Photo 1 – Visiting the BioGeometry center in Cairo with Ibrahim Karim

Photo 2 – A diagram from Dr. I. Karim’s book Hidden Reality, redrawn by hand to mark parts of our psyche

13/07/2025

#47 Akhenaten emerged in my psyche as a powerful complex, activating the archetypal energy behind him—so much so that I could subjectively feel and experience him as myself, and myself as him. For a time, my psyche fused with his. This intense resonance led me deep into an inner soul conflict, offering profound clarity on why I choose authenticity over status in my life; why I retreat to build my own world rather than merge into others’ structures in search of fulfillment; why I immediately sense and react sharply to any display of power, and why I focus on educating groups around manipulation and the resilience of identity.

It revealed why individual freedom is so essential to me, why I place such value on each person’s direct connection to source, inner guidance, and internal authority.

There are many authentic threads in my life that mirror Akhenaten’s steps—one of the most central being my profound connection to horses and their distinct energy. It feels as though I can read the pages of his life as if they were my own, grasping the deep inner motives behind his actions. By walking into that space, I begin to see the primal causes of the consequences that exist in my present, and I intuitively sense that some of my body’s unexplained symptoms are rooted in that distant past.

One of the most painful and pivotal themes is the radical opposition—without the possibility of reconciliation at the time—the polarization of people, and the aggressive effort to erase another’s identity.

12/07/2025

#46 As I listened to Yvon in the temple that day, something very deep was stirred within me. I didn’t allow myself to interrupt her, even though many questions and reactions arose—something powerful was activating from the depths of my unconscious. Every word she spoke felt important, and I realized that in this unexpected way, an inner ignition was happening—a kind of awakening, a resonance. And although my ego wanted to intervene, to grasp and understand immediately, I remained still.

Through her words, I seemed to hear a distant, personally-lived past as she spoke about how the influence of the Amun Ra priesthood had grown stronger, their religious and political power intensifying—especially in Karnak, where their presence was most concentrated. I sensed clearly that in such a field of power manipulation, Akhenaten’s drive could have emerged—a motivation to restore a direct connection with the supreme light, without form, expressed as the singular, all-encompassing solar disk. Whether it was a motive or a true mystical vision of an indivisible higher reality, it pointed toward something that challenged all intermediaries—undermining their spiritual and possibly social authority.

I could feel within myself how powerful and undeniable the impulse must have been in his soul, this yearning for unity with the one, the only, the absolute and abstract source.

Akhenaten, or Amenhotep IV, initially shared rule with his father Amenhotep III, but after his father’s death, he shifted the spiritual center from Karnak to Amarna, founding a new vision of the solar light as Aten—the singular, sole god of Egypt. It was a radical rupture, dissolving the long-established world of Egyptian archetypal deities—rich in natural and animal symbolism—and replacing it with an abstract, formless solar disk symbolizing undivided oneness.

11/07/2025

#45 The name Akhenaten stirred something powerful in me, opening and awakening a deep memory when I first heard about him at the Abydos temple. A name not inscribed on the wall that honors all the pharaohs. A name that was meant to be destroyed, erased from the face of the earth.

When we first met, Yvon shared how, in Seti I’s court, people had split into two clear groups—those who insisted Akhenaten’s name should never be spoken within the temple walls, and others who believed his name must be included, that doing so was an act of rightful respect. It struck me as something essential to my soul—as though a moment, frozen in my psyche and in the pages of history, was reappearing once more in a new form, in a new time.

It echoes every moment we reject something, every time we push away, split off, deny, exile—when it seems the only way to define ourselves is through negating something else. Yet there is always the other group—the ones who say it is unwise to reject what we do not yet fully understand. To reject parts of the whole.

But how do we truly accept? What does it mean to accept something that is not “me”? Something our ego does not want to identify with—something we are most afraid to see in the light of day? Acceptance not as a theoretical notion, not as a distant spiritual ideal—but as an embodied experience in the here and now. Especially in relationships, where the rejected parts of ourselves meet us directly, where this kind of acceptance demands everything and often comes at a deep cost.

09/07/2025

#44 This began to emerge as we started working with the deeper layers of the collective psyche—engaging with thirteen mysteries, archetypal energies that can only be recognized through each group member’s individual psychic expression, personal unconscious, and conscious integration process. That’s why the ongoing work with dreams, deep self-reflection, and the group field is part of our long-term commitment—our contract—until the Nigredo book is born.

We all give this journey the time it needs to unfold at its own pace, since none of us knows where the Arcana may take us, what it might ask us to touch within ourselves, where it might invite us to travel, what we might still have to encounter, recognize, and experience. And only then, perhaps, find the words to speak about it—to try to explain it in terms rooted in depth psychology.

Working in a group is, for me, a sacred task—something I could never replicate or reproduce on a larger scale. I have always regarded groups as inherently risky to the individual—especially when there is no clearly defined contract around the group dynamic, or when the necessary psychological competence to contain destructive forces is lacking. As Jung wrote, the individual and their responsibility tend to dissolve in the mass; in a group, all energies naturally tend to mix in every direction.

That’s why guiding a group requires a heightened capacity to perceive both the inner and outer, the depth and the horizon simultaneously. And a readiness to take responsibility for its shadow.

Rugile Jungian Analyst

29/08/2025

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