This mental energy is mobile. It shifts between psychic structures and, according to Freud, may even attach to one process to repress another. Over time this can generate pressure. If unresolved, the buildup contributes to psychological dysfunction. Yet the same energy can also be redirected in more constructive ways—sublimation—fueling creative, artistic, intellectual, or socially beneficial pursuits.
Freud also spoke of object cathexis, referring to energy invested in an external “object,” broadly defined as people, ideas, or anything that becomes the target of our instinctual drives.
Later depth psychologists, however, carried Freud’s insight further. They agreed that conflict can yield psychological understanding, but added that the same pressures may open into spiritual development as well—a view Freud did not share.
Freud’s Blind Spot: The Spiritual Dimension
A significant limitation of Freud’s framework is his refusal to consider that libidinal energy might also be redirected toward spiritual life. In works such as The Future of an Illusion, Freud argued that religion functions like a collective illusion or neurosis—a stance that many critics, both religious and secular, have challenged. By contrast, his contemporary Carl Jung broadened the concept of libido into a general psychic or life-energy capable of assuming spiritual, symbolic, or creative forms.
History—and the testimony of many saints and mystics—supports Jung’s broader interpretation. Within Christian monastic traditions, for example, celibacy and chastity have often been described as essential to interior discipline and sustained contemplative work. Devotional anthologies attribute to St. Francis de Sales the striking line: “Chastity is the lily among virtues and makes men almost equal to angels.”³
At the same time, our contemporary materialist mindset often struggles with these ideas. Genuine spiritual sensitivity may be misunderstood even within religious communities influenced by secular assumptions. More troublingly, individuals undergoing deep interior transformation can sometimes be labeled as pathological rather than spiritual, diverted into psychiatric pathways that suppress rather than support their development. For some, what appears chaotic or maladaptive may actually mark the beginning of an inner vocation—an invitation to reorient their lives toward a more spiritual or contemplative direction.
Spiritual Emergency: Crisis as Transformation
This brings us to the concept of spiritual emergency, popularized by Stanislav and Christina Grof. The term captures a dual reality: a crisis (emergency) and a breakthrough (emergence). Unlike Freud’s view of overwhelming psychic states as merely neurotic, the transpersonal perspective resonates with mystical traditions: such states can represent the psyche’s struggle to heal, reorganize, and move toward a higher level of integration.
Where spiritual emergence is gradual and manageable, a spiritual emergency is abrupt—an influx of energy, symbolic content, or insight that the ego cannot yet metabolize. Here the battlefield metaphor intensifies: the “troops” of psychic energy don’t simply reposition; they overwhelm the command center, dismantling rigid structures to make room for a renewed sense of self. For many throughout history, such ruptures have signaled not just collapse but the emergence of a new orientation or purpose.
The Transmutative Potential of Crisis: Beyond Pathology
Seen through this wider lens, experiences sometimes diagnosed as a psychotic break may also contain a transformative dimension. The Grofs and other transpersonal psychologists argue that certain crises involve symbolic material, archetypal imagery, or intense energies that carry developmental potential—though this does not negate the real dangers that accompany such states.
Mainstream psychiatry rightly prioritizes safety, stabilization, and symptom reduction, especially when someone is overwhelmed or at risk. Many clinicians today adopt a blended stance: acute stabilization first, followed by a later exploration of meaning once the person is safe and grounded. What emerges afterward can look less like illness and more like a reorganization toward meaning, relationship, and sometimes a nascent spiritual identity.
Current research underscores just how individualized outcomes are. Some crises respond well to swift medical intervention; others benefit from a more integrative approach that includes psychotherapy, social support, and where appropriate, spiritual framing.
Medication often plays a necessary role early on (acting as a “circuit breaker” in the most severe episodes). But long-term strategies are more complex. While antipsychotics can reduce relapse for many people, prolonged high-dose or indefinite treatment can also produce side effects—emotional blunting, sedation, and cognitive dampening—that may hinder deeper integration. Because research is nuanced and mixed, the best practice today is shared decision-making: careful, individualized discussions about tapering, maintenance, or reduction, with close clinical supervision if changes are made.
East Meets West: Two Models of Breakthrough
A cultural contrast further illuminates these dynamics:
Western Clinical Model (Biomedical):
Psychotic episodes are typically seen as symptoms arising from neurochemical dysregulation. The goal is to stabilize the person and return them to previous functioning. Subjective experiences—visions, voices, symbolic themes—are often seen as meaningless byproducts. In this model, the patient is mostly a recipient of treatment rather than an active interpreter of their experience, and “breakthrough” means symptom control.
Traditional or Shamanic Model (Existential/Spiritual):
Anthropologists such as Mircea Eliade and Tanya Luhrmann have documented societies in which extreme visionary states are interpreted as initiatory experiences or calls to spiritual work. In these contexts, individuals are guided—often by elders—to interpret their visions rather than dismiss them. The crisis becomes meaningful, and “breakthrough” is measured by transformation and the integration of new insight into a socially recognized role. In such traditions, crisis is often inseparable from calling: a difficult initiation that reveals a person’s place in the larger order.
It’s important to add, however, that these patterns are culturally specific rather than universal. Not all societies treat crisis states in this way, and outcomes depend greatly on community support, worldview, and the individual’s own psychological makeup.
Still, the contrast highlights an important question: Is a crisis something to forget—or something to integrate?
Toward a More Integrated Understanding
Whether we speak of cathexis, spiritual emergency, or psychosis, one core truth emerges: the human psyche holds immense energy and an innate drive toward meaning, healing, and integration. When crises are met with insight rather than fear—with containment rather than suppression—they can reveal transformative paths that were previously unimaginable.
The battlefield metaphor captures only part of the story. The deeper reality is that psychic energy, when understood and guided with wisdom, points us toward wholeness, purpose, and a more spacious understanding of what it means to be human.
Seen this way, the crises that shake us may also be the very moments that call us toward who we are meant to become.
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