Reflections
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"The essence of the
spiritual life is attending to that which lies deepest within." |
Penelope Yungblut: "The Transformative Journey"
Touchstone offers to accompany you on your inward journey to the Self, God within. What might such a journey be like? What does it offer? How may it be transformative? Here are some ideas about this journey, what it might entail and the possibilities it holds.
It is a journey of recovering energies and hidden parts of self, integrating the unconscious, healing wounds, exploring our creativity and unlived life, working with the vicissitudes of life, mourning ruptures and losses, connecting to others with compassion, honoring our path despite collective expectations, finding that for which we were born, and living our meaning and purpose in the world.
The journey enables us to become more self-aware, to move forward with increasing authenticity and integration, to live in the present with vitality, to realize our potential and our creativity, to give space and support to others, and to relate with curiosity and compassion to diverse peoples and cultures stretching and enriching our lives.
In our journey, we are called to be the change we wish to see in the world. C.G. Jung and the 20th century revolutionaries, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Martin Luther King Jr, are in agreement. The great transformations initially take place in individuals from where they spread in widening circles to society and beyond.
There is no more exciting journey than becoming who we are meant to be and all we can be, responding to that which lies deepest within, and embodying the transformative insights made possible by the journey.
It is a journey of recovering energies and hidden parts of self, integrating the unconscious, healing wounds, exploring our creativity and unlived life, working with the vicissitudes of life, mourning ruptures and losses, connecting to others with compassion, honoring our path despite collective expectations, finding that for which we were born, and living our meaning and purpose in the world.
The journey enables us to become more self-aware, to move forward with increasing authenticity and integration, to live in the present with vitality, to realize our potential and our creativity, to give space and support to others, and to relate with curiosity and compassion to diverse peoples and cultures stretching and enriching our lives.
In our journey, we are called to be the change we wish to see in the world. C.G. Jung and the 20th century revolutionaries, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Martin Luther King Jr, are in agreement. The great transformations initially take place in individuals from where they spread in widening circles to society and beyond.
There is no more exciting journey than becoming who we are meant to be and all we can be, responding to that which lies deepest within, and embodying the transformative insights made possible by the journey.
Charlie Finn: "What Touchstone Means to Me"
Touchstone calls to my mind John Yungblut. It’s hard for me to believe it’s been over 20 years since John bid us farewell, partially because he has been so present in my psyche all these years since. What began in 1990 as a letter-exchange led to my visiting him several times at Touchstone in northern Virginia the next few years. Our talks about the spirit journey before the fire I will never forget. More than mentor, John became truly a spirit-father to me. Those walking a spirit-path will resonate with the force of these words.
With regard to Touchstone, the phrase “objective correlative” from long ago Jesuit years comes back to me. Touchstone is the objective correlative, the concrete embodiment, of the spirit of John Yungblut. It is holy ground, dedicated to the cultivation of the contemplative journey. It has been carried on since John’s passing by his wife Penelope, whom I not only got to know in my visits with John at Touchstone, and in a visit by the two of them to my home in southwest Virginia, but who gave me invaluable assistance as I prepared a tribute to John in a Pendle Hill pamphlet that I entitled John Yungblut: Passing the Mystical Torch. The torch lit by John at Touchstone, wonderfully passed on to Penelope, continues to burn bright.
With regard to Touchstone, the phrase “objective correlative” from long ago Jesuit years comes back to me. Touchstone is the objective correlative, the concrete embodiment, of the spirit of John Yungblut. It is holy ground, dedicated to the cultivation of the contemplative journey. It has been carried on since John’s passing by his wife Penelope, whom I not only got to know in my visits with John at Touchstone, and in a visit by the two of them to my home in southwest Virginia, but who gave me invaluable assistance as I prepared a tribute to John in a Pendle Hill pamphlet that I entitled John Yungblut: Passing the Mystical Torch. The torch lit by John at Touchstone, wonderfully passed on to Penelope, continues to burn bright.
Dave Pruett: "What Touchstone Has Meant to Me"
With a newly minted Ph.D. in applied mathematics, I began my first university teaching position at Virginia Commonwealth University in August 1986. Despite the crushing demands on a fledgling faculty member, in October that fall, I did something uncharacteristic: on a weeknight—a Thursday as I recall—I attended an evening lecture sponsored by Jungian Ventures, the first and only such lecture I’ve ever attended.
The speaker was an elderly gentleman by the name of John Yungblut. At the time, John was in his early seventies and suffering from Parkinson’s disease. Before launching into his remarks, John apologized for what might be a labored delivery, slowed speech being one of the telltale symptoms of Parkinson’s inexorable toll.
The lecture by John Yungblut was riveting, all the more so because John’s slow pace allowed one to assimilate in real time his fascinating anecdotes and observations about the life and thought of Carl Jung. But what struck me far more than the substance of the talk was a feeling that I have had only a few times in my life: I am in the presence of a truly genuine human being.
More than a year passed before I stumbled onto a promotional flyer for an upcoming Advent Retreat (in December 1987) sponsored by the Episcopal Diocese of Richmond, Virginia. The facilitator was none other than John Yungblut. I signed up immediately.
For an entire weekend, I basked in the glow of John’s spirit and delighted in the intellectual stimulation of his bold and integrative vision: one that wove into a seamless cloth the insights of modern science, depth psychology, and spiritual wisdom. And I thrilled in the discoveries that mysticism is not a four-letter word, that science and spirituality can be “mutually irradiating” enterprises, and that there are shining examples of human beings – Teilhard de Chardin, C. G. Jung, Loren Eiseley, and Thomas Berry among them -- who spent their lives crafting a new and healing “myth of meaning.”
When the retreat ended, not knowing exactly what I was seeking, I diffidently asked John if we could continue communicating. John replied affirmatively, and so it was that I came under John’s mentorship for the last 9 years of his life. Looking back on life from my own advancing age, it is clear that what I owe the man is incalculable. Before I met John, I was floundering through life uncertain of who I was or where I was going. Afterwards, I could utter with increasing confidence these words from Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Kingfisher” sonnet: “What I Do is Me, For That I Came.”
John’s greatest gift was his ability to peer deeply into one’s soul, to find something of value or beauty there, and to bless unreservedly what he found. To bestow the rare gift that set Jesus on his ministry: “This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.” I did not realize this all at once. I did realize that I cherished each and every letter received from John and every hour in his presence.
Once or twice a year, I’d drive 3.5 hours each way to spend the weekend with John, when his wife, Penelope, was in Switzerland for training as a Jungian analyst. Fireside chats with John -- his Irish-setter Honor curled by the hearth -- were magical moments. So too were the times we watched together “The Mass on the World” -- John’s term for the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather -- Bass ales in hand. I loved to make him laugh, for John’s laughter came from sacred depth, bubbling up like an effervescent spring. Leaving John at the end of the weekend, I felt as if I were transporting coals back to my mundane world, and I tried to extend their radiance as long as possible.
John never spoke about himself unless asked directly. But over our 9 years together, I learned to appreciate that I had met a great soul. That he’d attended Harvard Divinity School, where his direction was set for life by Rufus Jones, who advised simply: “Study the mystics.” John did. That he’d left the Episcopal ministry at 44 years of age (because of a recurring dream) to become a Quaker and join the civil rights movement. That he’d known Martin Luther King, Jr., and Thomas Merton personally. That, like Thoreau, he’d spent a night in jail following arrest at a civil-rights demonstration. That he’d struggled mightily -- but successfully -- to articulate a new “myth of meaning,” integrating the complementary insights of Carl Jung, Teilhard de Chardin, and Jesus of Nazareth. That he’d founded Touchstone, Inc., in Virginia, and helped organized the Guild for Spiritual Guidance in Rye, New York, organizations dedicated to what John called The Gentle Art of Spiritual Guidance, the title of one of his most revered books.
How appropriate the name of his non-profit: Touchstone. John was my touchstone. When with him, I could see my “me,” and over our years together, my uniqueness, gifts, and purpose came into focus. I count as my two greatest successes and gifts to the world -- both completed well past midlife -- the JMU Honors course “From Black Elk to Black Holes” and the book that evolved from it, Reason and Wonder, a 12-year labor of love. Without John, both would never have been conceived, or at best would have been stillborn.
John regularly asked at our partings: “Pray that I make a good end.” I’m embarrassed to admit that, not wanting to entertain the thought of losing him, I often flippantly responded to his request. I last saw John on Easter Sunday 1995, appropriately 40 years to the day following the death of Teilhard de Chardin, whose influence on John was as deep as John’s on me. Given that John was bedridden and terminally ill, I knew that this would be our last time together, and I fretted during the long drive to Leesburg about what to say and how to express it. Upon arrival, I was surprised -- astonished really -- to find John’s room awash in light and John radiant. I am fully aware how ridiculous this may sound to anyone who did not know him, but others who saw John in his final days independently corroborate this impression. My words to him were still awkward, but John nevertheless thought our time could not have gone better. John indeed made a good end, the culmination of an extraordinary life well lived. I dearly loved the man, and the intervening years have only made him dearer.
It was such an honor to serve on the Board of Touchstone, to facilitate Penelope in keeping Touchstone’s mission alive, a living legacy to John, type specimen of the rarest of species: Homo sapiens spiritus.
The speaker was an elderly gentleman by the name of John Yungblut. At the time, John was in his early seventies and suffering from Parkinson’s disease. Before launching into his remarks, John apologized for what might be a labored delivery, slowed speech being one of the telltale symptoms of Parkinson’s inexorable toll.
The lecture by John Yungblut was riveting, all the more so because John’s slow pace allowed one to assimilate in real time his fascinating anecdotes and observations about the life and thought of Carl Jung. But what struck me far more than the substance of the talk was a feeling that I have had only a few times in my life: I am in the presence of a truly genuine human being.
More than a year passed before I stumbled onto a promotional flyer for an upcoming Advent Retreat (in December 1987) sponsored by the Episcopal Diocese of Richmond, Virginia. The facilitator was none other than John Yungblut. I signed up immediately.
For an entire weekend, I basked in the glow of John’s spirit and delighted in the intellectual stimulation of his bold and integrative vision: one that wove into a seamless cloth the insights of modern science, depth psychology, and spiritual wisdom. And I thrilled in the discoveries that mysticism is not a four-letter word, that science and spirituality can be “mutually irradiating” enterprises, and that there are shining examples of human beings – Teilhard de Chardin, C. G. Jung, Loren Eiseley, and Thomas Berry among them -- who spent their lives crafting a new and healing “myth of meaning.”
When the retreat ended, not knowing exactly what I was seeking, I diffidently asked John if we could continue communicating. John replied affirmatively, and so it was that I came under John’s mentorship for the last 9 years of his life. Looking back on life from my own advancing age, it is clear that what I owe the man is incalculable. Before I met John, I was floundering through life uncertain of who I was or where I was going. Afterwards, I could utter with increasing confidence these words from Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Kingfisher” sonnet: “What I Do is Me, For That I Came.”
John’s greatest gift was his ability to peer deeply into one’s soul, to find something of value or beauty there, and to bless unreservedly what he found. To bestow the rare gift that set Jesus on his ministry: “This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased.” I did not realize this all at once. I did realize that I cherished each and every letter received from John and every hour in his presence.
Once or twice a year, I’d drive 3.5 hours each way to spend the weekend with John, when his wife, Penelope, was in Switzerland for training as a Jungian analyst. Fireside chats with John -- his Irish-setter Honor curled by the hearth -- were magical moments. So too were the times we watched together “The Mass on the World” -- John’s term for the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather -- Bass ales in hand. I loved to make him laugh, for John’s laughter came from sacred depth, bubbling up like an effervescent spring. Leaving John at the end of the weekend, I felt as if I were transporting coals back to my mundane world, and I tried to extend their radiance as long as possible.
John never spoke about himself unless asked directly. But over our 9 years together, I learned to appreciate that I had met a great soul. That he’d attended Harvard Divinity School, where his direction was set for life by Rufus Jones, who advised simply: “Study the mystics.” John did. That he’d left the Episcopal ministry at 44 years of age (because of a recurring dream) to become a Quaker and join the civil rights movement. That he’d known Martin Luther King, Jr., and Thomas Merton personally. That, like Thoreau, he’d spent a night in jail following arrest at a civil-rights demonstration. That he’d struggled mightily -- but successfully -- to articulate a new “myth of meaning,” integrating the complementary insights of Carl Jung, Teilhard de Chardin, and Jesus of Nazareth. That he’d founded Touchstone, Inc., in Virginia, and helped organized the Guild for Spiritual Guidance in Rye, New York, organizations dedicated to what John called The Gentle Art of Spiritual Guidance, the title of one of his most revered books.
How appropriate the name of his non-profit: Touchstone. John was my touchstone. When with him, I could see my “me,” and over our years together, my uniqueness, gifts, and purpose came into focus. I count as my two greatest successes and gifts to the world -- both completed well past midlife -- the JMU Honors course “From Black Elk to Black Holes” and the book that evolved from it, Reason and Wonder, a 12-year labor of love. Without John, both would never have been conceived, or at best would have been stillborn.
John regularly asked at our partings: “Pray that I make a good end.” I’m embarrassed to admit that, not wanting to entertain the thought of losing him, I often flippantly responded to his request. I last saw John on Easter Sunday 1995, appropriately 40 years to the day following the death of Teilhard de Chardin, whose influence on John was as deep as John’s on me. Given that John was bedridden and terminally ill, I knew that this would be our last time together, and I fretted during the long drive to Leesburg about what to say and how to express it. Upon arrival, I was surprised -- astonished really -- to find John’s room awash in light and John radiant. I am fully aware how ridiculous this may sound to anyone who did not know him, but others who saw John in his final days independently corroborate this impression. My words to him were still awkward, but John nevertheless thought our time could not have gone better. John indeed made a good end, the culmination of an extraordinary life well lived. I dearly loved the man, and the intervening years have only made him dearer.
It was such an honor to serve on the Board of Touchstone, to facilitate Penelope in keeping Touchstone’s mission alive, a living legacy to John, type specimen of the rarest of species: Homo sapiens spiritus.
Raymond C. Ewing: "My Experience of Touchstone"
Since marrying Penelope Yungblut in January 2010, Touchstone has primarily meant for me the counseling/spiritual direction sessions Penelope conducts with clients, as well as the lectures and seminars she presents at the International School of Analytical Psychology Zurich. Penelope is clearly an important mentor for those in training to become Jungian analysts and she often serves as an examiner. She is also an informal sounding board and advisor for students who come to Zurich from around the world. The twice a year trips Penelope makes to Switzerland give her a great opportunity and responsibility to help shape the future of Jungian psychology.
My late wife, Jerelyn Patten Ewing, had an important relationship with Penelope and John Yungblut beginning in1980. Jere led her first silent retreat when we were in Cyprus from 1981 to 1984 and in doing so was influenced by Penelope. Later, she participated in the two-year Guild for Spiritual Guidance led by John Yungblut primarily because of Penelope’s experience and recommendation. John was an important part of Jere’s development, and she enjoyed a friendship with Penelope to the end of her life.
My late wife, Jerelyn Patten Ewing, had an important relationship with Penelope and John Yungblut beginning in1980. Jere led her first silent retreat when we were in Cyprus from 1981 to 1984 and in doing so was influenced by Penelope. Later, she participated in the two-year Guild for Spiritual Guidance led by John Yungblut primarily because of Penelope’s experience and recommendation. John was an important part of Jere’s development, and she enjoyed a friendship with Penelope to the end of her life.
Penelope Yungblut
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Touchstone, Inc. is supported by honoraria for services provided and by tax deductible contributions which allow us to offer our program without fixed fees.
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