Regression (n.) can go all the way back to the pre-sexual stage: a catatonic girl, newly engaged, kissed her doctor and said “Papa, give me something to eat!”
Regression (n.) that reaches the presexual stage restores the libido to its original undifferentiated polyvalency — and from there it can take a new form, like tilling the earth-mother.
Regression (n.) before a great task is the dangerous moment between annihilation and new life: stuck below, a man is a shadow to the upper world; torn loose, the descent proves a plunge into the fountain of youth.
Regression (n.) should be supported by therapy, not condemned: it leads only apparently back to the mother, who is really the gateway into the unconscious, where the “divine child” — the germ of wholeness — awaits his realization.
Regression (n.) seeks not only incest but food: whoever gives up adapting and returns to the family bosom expects to be warmed, loved — and fed.
Regression (n.) that goes down to the nutritive layer turns the Oedipus complex into a Jonah-and-the-Whale complex: fear of incest becomes fear of being devoured by the mother — witch, wolf, ogre, dragon.
Regression (n.) is not only retreat: when progress is blocked by a divided will, libido flows back to the common archaic root of all functions — where something new can arise.
Regression (n.) sets in automatically whenever a man meets a task he cannot master: the libido draws back, turns inward, and reawakens in the unconscious a primitive analogue of his present situation.
Regression (n.) is retreat before the insurmountable: we reach for what helped in youth, and when that fails go back into childhood — and beyond it.
Regression (n.) that goes back to the mother is not only a fixation: the libido seeks in the mother-imago the memories from which further development can take place.
Regression (n.) brings up what looks like slime from the depths — but the slime holds germs of new life and possibilities for the future.
Regression (n.) is the moment outward progress becomes impossible and the psyche is forced to adapt to its own inner world.
Regression (n.) is not degeneration but a necessary phase of development — the monster swims east toward sunrise with the hero inside; only staying stuck there is decline.
Regression (n.) has two exits: a retreat from the world that ends in dull brooding, or a flight into the world that ends in the life of a wastrel.
Regression (n.) is invariably accompanied by a heightened sense of life — hence the quickening thrill of the mass.
Regression (n.) can be a nation's reculer pour mieux sauter: the stream dammed up breaks into its old bed, but will one day overleap the obstacle.
Regression (n.) that stays within the sacred precinct is not a relapse but a systematic descent ad inferos, retreading history to the pre-Christian level — a psychological nekyia.
Regression (n.) turns into progression when the tension of opposites is unbearable enough.
Regression (n.) that reaches the mythic layer is a reculer pour mieux sauter — not decay but an amassing of powers that will grow into a new order.
Regression (n.) means the patient is seeking himself in his childhood: his one-sided development left parts of his personality behind, and he has to go back for them.