Leaning into Inferior Function

How Life Gambles with Us Wee Critters

Inferior Function

"Inferior function" is a Jungian concept that refers to our least-developed capacity. But oddly enough, I first heard about it in a writing seminar, where the theory went something like this: a poet's work is at its strongest when they lean into the aspect of their craft that comes least easily to them.

For instance, when a free verse, stream-of-consciousness type writer successfully embraces the rigors of form. It’s when artist ventures outside their comfortable home turf, often, that the magic happens.

Of course, it's hard to force ourselves to do what doesn't come naturally. But for better or worse (better in the long run, worse in the short!) life has a way of coaxing it out of us. Almost for sport, I think. It's as if the powers that be have an interest in seeing us stretch into new and interesting shapes. I suspect they're placing bets on us from above as to how we'll manage.

Take my case. I had zero interest in becoming an acupuncturist. I think I'd had a grand total of one acupuncture treatment (an entirely forgettable one) when I applied to Chinese Medicine programs circa 2009. I was in it for the herbal studies, and the whole needling thing sort of came along for the ride as a package deal. (For most Asian medicine students in this country it's the other way around: they pick up herbs on the side while studying acupuncture, if at all).  I learned to needle because it was literally part of the program. And it meant getting physical in ways I never really had. Getting a lot more comfortable with bodies and touch and up-close encounter than this cerebral one-time physics major was used to. Catching up on some perhaps underdeveloped social skills. Cultivating a steady, devoted presence. All of which is a work in progress, it’s fair to say.

But by the time I finished Chinese Medicine school, I'd grown fairly used to doing hands-on work and had warmed up some to this strange art of pricking people to help them feel better. I didn't exactly love acupuncture, but I became reasonably competent at it, while still focusing on my first loves, the herbal stuff and I Ching divination.

Then a strange thing happened, or maybe not so strange. First little by little, then by a big leap, the needles grew on me. It was partly the dawning realization that acupuncture allowed for an uber direct and precise application of a profound ancient cosmology. Partly that the results of this applied philosophy could be instantaneous and dramatic. Somehow, in digging deeper and learning new styles, in encountering remarkable lineages of practice (like Sa’am and Master Tung style) and experiencing their powerful effects for myself, something shifted. I suppose you could say I surrendered, softened, opened to this weird magic I hadn't even been looking for. I grew into it.

Now, on a good day, I find myself having fun with this craft, dancing with the needles. Like a musician who's learned the ropes of scale and harmony, I'm able to improvise on a solid foundation, and that's a beautiful feeling.

Herbal medicine is still my first love: we're solid for life. But as acupuncture has taught me, there's a lot to be said for leaning into the inferior function and working that edge. In so doing, you may find one day that what was once tender new growth has become a sturdy bra

nch, capable of supporting new shoots of its own.

We're never really off the hook, after all. One challenge begets the next. All part of life's gamble to see what we can become in the short span of a lifetime.