“No matter what winds blow, they will all pass!”

The Latvian people’s unique

survival instinct is especially evident in times like these.

When I hear about the fate of other nations disappearing, I always wonder—how have Latvians managed to endure?

We have never had a strong and selfless “friend” reaching out to help us in difficult times—quite the opposite, in fact. We have always relied only on ourselves and, at times, on the help of a nearby neighbor—sometimes wisely, sometimes foolishly, but that is another story.

Once again, the dangers surrounding us have activated our extraordinary ability to survive, and it is worth discussing.

Adaptation as a Survival Skill

One of the facets of the Ego is the ability to adapt to circumstances. However, adaptation does not mean simply enduring while lamenting how difficult everything is. Rather, it means adapting in a way that allows us to truly live, not just survive. A fitting example that comes to mind is the film Melānijas hronika by Viesturs Kairišs.

This ability to persevere is one of the strongest traits of Latvians. Every one of us knows family stories of resilience, passed down through generations, embedded in our collective unconscious, strengthening our cultural identity.

The Influence of Authority Complexes

Current restrictions have triggered authority and power complexes in many people—this is natural, as we all have them, though they manifest differently in each person.

The authority complex develops from parental complexes: the stronger it is, the more the Ego is subject to it. It can lead to fear and hatred of authority, provoke rebellion even at great personal risk, or result in passive compliance and submission.

Trusting the mother as an authority figure is deeply ingrained in our cultural unconscious. One of the distinctive traits of Latvian mythology is the reverence for maternal figures—Mother Earth, Fire Mother, Forest Mother, Water Mother, Wind Mother—this list goes on. Our ancestors ensured there was a mother figure for every crucial aspect of life. And why wouldn’t one trust a mother? After all, what mother would wish harm upon her child?

This ingrained trust in authority has its pros and cons, but it has allowed us to survive as a small nation while maintaining our unique identity—a miracle in itself.

The Strength and Burden of Latvian Women

“I buried my sorrow under a rock and walked on singing.”

This deep connection to the archetypal mother, along with the culturally ingrained virtues of diligence and silent endurance, has been a guiding force for many Latvian women. It has also been a dangerous mirage.

Latvian women strive to be the best mothers, wives, friends, colleagues—even taking responsibility for their employers and now, for their children’s education, shouldering burdens far beyond their share. Influenced by their mothers’ experiences—who worked on collective farms, in factories, raised children alone, tended livestock, and often endured alcoholic husbands—they have learned to suppress emotions, feeling only occasional surges of anger and despair.

These women were strong, and they taught their daughters to be strong as well. I am convinced that Latvian women, with their determination and resilience, have carried much of this nation’s hardship on their backs.

But this comes at a cost.

When work drives work, when there is no supportive and equal partner, a woman loses connection with her positive Animus and instead falls under the rule of the negative Animus. Many women today have inherited this burden through generations.

You often hear them say:
“I have to study with my child, I have to work, I have to cook for my husband, I have to clean the house, I have to bathe the kids.”

“Have to” replaces “I want to”, pushing personal desires onto a forgotten shelf where they gather dust.

She works tirelessly, like an ant, from morning until night. Her negative Animus, her inner masculine spirit, does not allow her to relax—not even for a moment. With his critical voice and impossible standards, he demands perfection in everything she does. And once again, the cost is high—overflowing emotions, stress, and exhaustion.

Today, once more, most of the burden falls on women. I have no doubt that they will manage, endure, and keep everything in order. I only hope the price is not too high. Because at stake are not just their relationships with their children, but also their own health.

Outsmarting the Devil: A Latvian Survival Strategy

Another survival skill—reflected even in our fairy tales—is the ability to outwit the devil. Latvians have mastered the art of creating the illusion of agreement, only to emerge victorious in the end.

A brilliant historical example: when Christianity was imposed upon our ancestors, they symbolically “washed it away” in the Daugava River. Lithuanian colleagues admire the abundance of sacred sites we have preserved, which suggests that the adoption of Christianity in Latvia was more formal than transformative. Our ancestors accepted the rules on the surface, while ensuring that the core of their identity remained intact.

I hope that once again, Latvians will find a way to outmaneuver the devil and navigate this challenging time with minimal losses.

Latvian Individualism: A Blessing and a Shield

A joke circulating online says:
“When Latvians were told to maintain a two-meter distance, they were surprised they had to stand so close!”

Latvians often describe themselves as solitary homesteaders—people who prefer to be in their own controlled environment, where every chair, book, and cat is accounted for.

This trait extends beyond those who live in countryside homes—it applies equally to apartment dwellers, no matter how small the space. What matters is the feeling of ownership:
“My apartment, my favorite chair, my table, my cup, my family, my husband, my wife, my world.”

In this “mine and ours”, we find our sense of belonging—our attachment to people and places. Our surroundings reflect our psychological processes—whether we invest our energy in the Ego or the Persona.

Latvian introversion is evident even now: some people are struggling with restrictions, while others are thriving, finally enjoying solitude at home—especially those who previously suffered in open-office environments.

Nature as a Spiritual Refuge

Latvians have a deep love for the Baltic Sea, forests, fresh air, and the scents of nature.

For some, joy comes from sinking their hands into the soil to plant flowers or tomatoes. For others, it’s the ability to bake a homemade cake or prepare comforting meals.

Walking in the woods, rowing a boat, fishing, steaming in a sauna, swimming, playing in an orchestra, dancing under the moonlight, digging in the garden, cooking, reading a book—these are sources of joy and inner peace.

Being alone with one’s thoughts can be a form of meditation, sustaining our Latvian identity, allowing us to live in harmony with nature, our cultural heritage, and our inner selves.

And so, we continue on.