Rites are not invented; they are found, discovered, experienced, and they rise out of some archetypal encounter with depth. The purpose of the symbolic aa which the rite enacts is to lead into or back toward that experience of depth. Obviously rites repeated can lose their capacity to point be-yond themselves into that depth, and they then become empty and sterile. Yet our need for the depth encounter persists. In "The Sym-bolic Life," Jung speaks of how important it is for a tribe of Pueblo Indians to see their rituals as instrumental in helping the sun to rise. That gives peace, when people feel that they are living the symbolic life, that they are actors in the divine drama. That gives the only meaning to human life; everything else is banal and you can dismiss it. A career, producing of children, are all maya compared with that one thing, that your life is meaningful.^^ Without meaningful rites we sustain the most grievous of wounds to the soul-life without depth.
— James Hollis
What Hollis is pointing at here, through Jung's Pueblo example, is not primarily a grief for lost ceremony — it is a diagnosis of what fills the vacuum when the rite has gone hollow. The career, the children, the accumulating proof of a life well-managed: these are not failures of ambition but symptoms of a soul that has lost access to the depth the rite once opened. They become the rite. The achievement-logic runs exactly like a religious conviction — *if I build enough, accomplish enough, provide enough, I will have justified the expenditure of a life* — and it fails in exactly the ritual way, cycling through repetition without ever landing in the depth it promises.
Jung's observation that the Pueblo men experienced their ceremonies as cosmically necessary — as literally helping the sun to rise — is not naïve anthropology. It is a description of what it feels like to act inside a meaning that exceeds personal scale. The wound Hollis names is not the absence of ceremony as social form; it is the foreclosure of that excess. When nothing you do exceeds your own psychology, when everything is finally about you and your development and your becoming, the soul is living entirely within a container too small for what it carries. Depth is not a mood or a quality of attention. It is where the rite pointed, before the pointing stopped.
James Hollis·Under Saturn's Shadow: The Wounding and Healing of Men·1994