The King and I

In which an archetype appears, and a quest begins.

Apr 14, 2025

Cannabreath often puts me into a dreamlike state, where different voices speak in my head and unexpected images emerge in my mind’s eye. The changes in brain and blood chemistry caused by the accelerated breathing — combined with the psychotropic effects of THC and the emotional impact of the music — collaborate in a beautiful, creative way. Like in dreams, I occasionally see symbolic images; some are clearly archetypes, presumably aspects of my Self. When I see something, I take it as an invitation to explore the image, the feelings, and the associations around it.

Recently I envisioned:

(September 27, 2024) Image of the king. The king radiates a gold light. He has a broad chest, his masculine handsome, thoughtful face (and) blonde feathered hair.

That’s what I’m feeling is missing in my life. I’m King of Nothing.

“King of Nothing.” My initial response stirred up feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. Here I am, a man in his late fifties, living a good life but not really leading anything or anyone. None of my fledgling enterprises or projects have truly taken flight. I’d always thought of myself as a leader, but as I enter into elderhood, I must acknowledge that the reach of my “kingdom” feels … limited.

Recognizing the King and this nagging sense of unfulfilled potential offers rich material to contemplate my relationship to power:

I have a great desire to be king, and a great fear of being king. These two impulses are alive and playing themselves against each other within me. My life may be the vehicle to reconcile these two forces. I can acknowledge and admit that a part of me desires to rule: to feel power, radiance, leadership. To be Top dog. And [part of me] also fears what it must feel like to be at the very top, where every person is under you and maybe trying to get to your top place? 

Is it the puzzle of this lifetime, to overcome the fears that keep me from embracing my King energy?

I realized that my ambivalence around power could be a kind of lifelong epic “quest”, and the appearance of the King in this cannabreath session could be an invitation to examine my relationship to kingship.

To deepen my understanding of what this image might mean, I went to King/Warrior/Magician/Lover: Rediscovering and the Archetypes of the Mature Masculine, a fascinating Jungian exploration of four cultural archetypes that are especially resonant for men. The authors, Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette identify the positive attributes of each figure – how they optimally show up in a mature form, as well as the darker, shadow aspects. I had read this book a few years ago, and I realized that I had already been exploring these archetypes in previous cannabreath experiences, where I’d seen the Lover and the Magician. It was time to reckon with the King.

Moore and Gillette suggest that, at its best, the King’s primary role is to bring order to his1 sphere of influence, while also ensuring the continuity of life through his own fertility. Ideally, the King is guided by a higher power, which he channels to bring order to the world for the greater good – NOT merely to serve his own needs:

It is the mortal king’s duty not only to receive and take to his people this right order of the universe and cast it in societal form but, even more fundamentally, to embody it in his own person, to live it in his own life. (Moore/Gillette page 56)

Of course, archetypes are symbols and are not meant to be read too literally. All of us have the potential to carry an inner monarch and to find constructive ways to express it.

Immediately upon seeing the King, I thought back on two professional relationships — both with people I supposedly cared about — that did not end well. I still carry some regret and resentment and hold onto a grudge of what “they did to me.” But from the perspective of the King, I was able to shift perspective and clearly see how their actions were direct responses to actions I had (or had not) taken:

I've brought back a lesson in kingship. You must take care of those you hold close...Looking at (people) who have shown me the consequences of my neglect/rejection, (which) caused (their) rage and dismissal. If you neglect or reject their needs, they may be so hurt, they become angry and act out against you. I can see my part in causing that.

So the king must understand when others need him who he feels close to, and (if) he rejects them, there will be consequences. The energy will change strongly.

I don’t regret the choices I had to make in these instances; both of these professional relationships had become unsustainable. What’s important here is understanding that the King practices radical responsibility, accepts the consequences of his actions, and carries this wisdom into future relationships. So rather than berate myself for not stepping up enough, I can see that these lessons helped me become more cautious about long-term commitments and more thoughtful about the sustainability of partnerships.

The other aspect of the King—the importance of his fertility, is harder for me to realize. As a gay man who made a choice not to have or raise children, the breeding imperative feels like a "should", identified by these two well-intentioned but heteronormative psychologists. A literal reading of Moore and Gillette could take my unwillingness to procreate as a rejection of my Kingly “duties.” However, I’ve long since chosen to believe that I express creative and parental instincts in other forms, especially in my career as a teacher, working with young adults.

Looking beyond myself, the book reassures me that I’m not alone in my ambivalence towards the kingly impulse. Moore and Gillette acknowledge that:

…most of us also have to confess that overall we have experienced very little of the King energy in its fullness. We may have felt it in bits and pieces, but the sad fact is that this positive energy is disastrously lacking in the lives of most men. Mostly what we have experienced is what we are calling the Shadow King. (page 63)

The Shadow King corresponds to two archetypes: the Weakling and the Tyrant. The Weakling does not acknowledge their own Kingly power, they look to others outside of them to take the reigns. We need to be aware that the collective version of the Weakling involves capitulation and abdication to tyranny,

…when the people, regarding themselves as peasants, turn over all their own inner King energy to ‘der Führer.’ This ‘abdication syndrome,’ the hallmark of the Weakling, is just as disastrous as usurpation syndrome. (page 72)

From a global perspective, it seems to me we have entered a very shadow-y moment. The other side of the shadow here is the Tyrant: the ruler who takes power for his own uses, degrading, exploiting and abusing others. Driven by self-interest, he can be narcissistic, rageful, unwilling to listen to others. Sound familiar?

We are all living in the shadow of the Tyrant now. What do we do about it? How do we activate the monarch within us, and not abdicate at this moment of all times?

My cannabreath-inspired encounter with the King helped me move past regrets about who and what I’m not. Yes, it’s valuable to explore the shadow aspects and acknowledge when I may have expressed the Tyrant, and when, as Weakling, I’ve allowed my own work and career to be dependent on others’ decisions. More importantly, this is an opportunity for all of us to engage and activate our inner Monarchs. My kingdom includes my home, my classrooms, my artistic collaborations, and the spaces where I lead others in breathwork. For now, I recognize these areas as the territory where I can uphold my values, take on the role of a supportive and just leader, and manifest my mature King energy.

Long live the King!

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