PROLOGUE:

Sunday, June 26th, 2016

… I cannot employ the language of science to trace this process of growth in myself, for I cannot experience myself as a scientific problem … What we are to our inward vision, and what man appears to be sub specie aeternitatis, can only be expressed by way of myth. My life is more individual and expresses life more precisely than does science. Science works with concepts of averages which are far too general to do justice to the subjective variety of an individual life. …The only question is whether what I tell is my fable, my truth. (p. 3)

p. 3: Definitions and labels from vetted sources is always helpful. In his autobiography, Carl Jung applies his scientific method to explain both his personal “metaphysical” experiences as well as label processes that had not up to this time been cataloged. Imagine validating fantasies, not as self indulgent time wasters for the weak, but a useful tool for the mind to find its way to authentic interaction with its reality and world. But lets not digress.  Here Jung is talking about MYTH. Science gives us substance and myth lends meaning. A great many of us that have survived natural selection are suicidal when life outlasts its point. Clearly as a species we need both meaning and substance (the how and why a thing “is.”

I am not like others, but I do not know what I really am like. (p. 4)

Bernini The quick response to this might be “then who is?” Naturally there are differences between mystics. Why? Because mysticism is a physical process, which should be obvious by how strongly the mystic is effected by this extremely erotic non-physical force. I’ll borrow a post I wrote 10 years ago. It’s interesting that nobody had anything to say to it and it was one of my most heartfelt posts. These particular sorts of intimate relationships is hard to share even as it’s all around us. Why? because our mainstream won’t get near the topic, but separates it out from accepted realities. This is much the same treatment doled out to topics regarding gender and sexuality. This is Othering folks. It’s a fear, prejudice, whatever.

How difficult it was For Carl Jung to find a language, explaining to family, colleagues, even his wife that his closest companion was a consciousness that takes walks with him in his backyard. Like Philemon, Aylward has been with me since I was very little. I may not be as smart as Jung, but I believe I have a small idea of the isolation he felt in his privileged world. William James said even as he had never experienced anything like this, there’s enough stories out there from those that have for us to pay attention and release disbelief.  Through his autobiography, Dr. Jung even gives our society the path to support the mystic’s journey. I hope we use it — soon.

Recollection of the outward events of my life has largely faded or disappeared. But my encounters with the “other” reality, my bouts with the unconscious, are indelibly engraved upon my memory…. When no answer comes from within to the problems and complexities of life, they ultimately mean very little. Outward circumstances are no substitute for inner experience. (p. 5)

Seriously – In a situation like this, what else is there?

Amanda

INTRODUCTION – by ANGELA JAFFE

Saturday, June 25th, 2016

“This Book had its inception during the Eranos Conference held in Ascona in the summer of 1956. there the publisher Kurt Wolff, in conversation with friends from Zurich, spoke of his wish to have Pantheon Books of New York publish a biography of Carl Gustav Jung. Dr. Jolande Jacobi, one of C.G. Jung’s associates proposed that the office of biographer be entrusted to me.

All of us were well aware that the task would by no means be an easy one. Jung’s distaste for exposing his personal life to the public eye was well known. Indeed, he gave his consent only after a long period of doubt and hesitation. But once he had done so, he allotted to me an entire afternoon once a week for our work together. Considering the press of his regular program of work, and how easily he tired–for even then he was past eighty–that was a great deal of time.

We began in the spring of 1957. It had been proposed that the book be written not as a “biography,” but in the form of an “autobiography,” with Jung himself as the narrator. This plan determined the form of the book, and my first task consisted solely in asking questions and noting down Jung’s replies. Although he was rather reticent at the beginning, he soon warmed to the work. He began telling about himself, his development, his dreams and his thoughts with growing interest.” (pp. v-vi)

So we begin our personal journeys. PLEASE do NOT accept my interpretation of the text. Without YOUR vision, this work doesn’t make any sense as a resource for personal journeys if we don’t use ourselves as the primary authority over our magickal lives.

1 FIRST YEARS – important dream

Thursday, June 23rd, 2016

At the time the idea became fixed in my mind that I must live near a lake; without water, I thought, nobody could live at all. (p. 7) [I concur]

1. [non suicidal need to leave this world] From the period of my parents’ separation I have another memory image: a young, very pretty and charming girl with blue eyes and fair hair is leading me, on a blue autumn day, under golden maple and chestnut trees along the Rhine below the Falls, near Worth castle. The sun is shining through the foliage, and yellow leaves lie on the ground. This girl later became my mother-in-law. She admired my father. I did not see her again until I was twenty-one years old. … My mother told me too, of the time when I was crossing the bridge over the Rhine Falls to Neuhausen. The maid caught me just in time–I already had one leg under the railing and was about to slip through. These things point to an unconscious suicidal urge or, it may be, to a fatal resistance to life in this world. (9)

2. [A very important dream when he was 3-4] The vicarage stood quite alone near Laufen castle, and there was a big meadow stretching back from the sexton’s farm. In the dream I was in this meadow. Suddenly I discovered a dark, rectangular, stone-lined hole in the ground.  I had never seen it before. I ran forward curiously and peered down into it. Then I saw a stone stairway leading down. Hesitantly and fearfully, I descended. At the bottom was a doorway with a round arch, closed off by a green curtain. it was a big, heavy curtain of worked stuff like brocade, and it looked very sumptuous. Curious to see what might be hidden behind, I pushed it aside. I saw before me in the dim light a rectangular chamber about thirty feet long. The ceiling was arched and of hewn stone. The floor was laid with flagstones, and in the center a red carpet ran from the entrance to a low platform. On this platform stood a wonderfully rich golden throne. I am not certain, but perhaps a red cushion lay on the seat. It was a magnificent throne, a real king’s throne in a fairy tale. Something was standing on it which I thought at first was a tree trunk twelve to fifteen feet high and about one and a half to two feet thick. It was a huge thing, reaching almost to the ceiling. But it was of a curious composition: it was made of skin and naked flesh, and on top there was something like a rounded head with no face and no hair. On the very top of the head was a single eye, gazing motionlessly upward.

It was fairly light in the room, although there were no windows and no apparent source of light. Above the head, however, was an aura of brightness. The thing did not move, yet I had the feeling that it might at any moment crawl off the throne like a worm and creep toward me. I was paralyzed with terror. At that moment I heard from outside and above me my mother’s voice. She called out, “Yes, just look at him. That is the man-eater!” That intensified my terror even more, and I awoke sweating and scared to death. For many nights afterward I was afraid to go to sleep, because I feared I might have another dream like that.

The dream haunted me for years. Only much later did I realize that what I had seen was a phallus, and it was decades before I understood that it was a ritual phallus. I could never make out whether my mother meant, “That is the man-eater!” or That is the man-eater.” In the first case she would have meant that no Lord Jesus or the Jesuit was the devourer of little children, but the phallus; in the second case that the “man-eater” in general was symbolized by the phallus, so that the dark Lord Jesus, the Jesuit, and the phallus were identical.

The abstract significance of the phallus is shown by the fact that it was enthroned by itself, “upright.” The hole in the meadow probably represented a grave. The grave itself was an underground temple whose green curtain symbolized the meadow, in other words the mystery of Earth with her covering of green vegetation. The carpet was blood red.

3, [Other personality] What about the vault? Perhaps I had already been to the Munot, the citadel Schaffhausen? This is not likely, since no one would take a three-year-old child up there. So it cannot be a memory-trace. Equally, I do not know where the anatomically correctly phallus can have come from. The interpretation of the orificium urethrae as an eye, with the source of light apparently above it, points to the etymology of the word phallus (shining, bright).

At all events, the phallus of this dream seems to be a subterranean God “not to be named,” and such it remained throughout my youth ,,, (connection between Jesus Christ and Jesuit priests). (p. 13)

… So the important thing in the dream was its remarkable symbolic setting and the astounding interpretation: “That is the man-eater.” Not the child’s ogre of a man-eater, but the fact that this was a man-eater, and that it was sitting on a golden throne beneath the earth. For my childish imagination it was first of all the king who sat on a golden throne; then, not a much more beautiful and much higher and much more golden throne far, far away in the blue sky, sat God and Lord Jesus, with golden crowns and white robes. Yet from this same Lord Jesus, came the Jesuit in women’s garb, with a broad black hat, down from the wooded hill. … In the dream I went down into the ole in the earth and found something very different on a golden throne, something non human and underworldy, which gazed fixedly upward and fed on human flesh. It was only fifty years later that a passage in a study of a religious ritual burned into my eyes, concerning the motif of cannibalism that underlies the symbolism of the Mass. Only then did it become clear to me how exceedingly unchildlike, how sophisticated and over sophisticated with the thought that had begun to break through into consciousness in those two experiences. Who was it speaking in me? Whose mind had devised them? What kind of superior intelligence was at work? I know every numbskull will babble on about “black man,” “man-eater,” “chance,” and “retrospective interpretation,” in order to banish something terribly inconvenient that might sully the familiar picture of childhood innocence. Ah, these good, efficient healthy-minded people, they always remind me of those optimistic tadpoles who bask in a puddle in the sun, in the shallowest of water, crowding together and amiably wriggling their tails, totally unaware that the next morning the puddle will have dried up and left them stranded.

Who spoke to me then? Who talked of problems far beyond my knowledge. Who brought the Above and Below together, and laid the foundation for everything that was to fill the second half of my life with stormiest passion? Who but that alien guest who came both from above and from below?

4. [Secrets] Through this childhood dream I was initiated into the secrets of the earth. What happened then was a kind of burial in the earth, and many years were to pass before I came out again. Today I know that it happened in order to bring the greatest possible amount of light into the darkness. It was an imitation into the realm of darkness. My intellectual life had its unconscious beginnings at that time. (pp. 11-15)

5. [Affinity with exotic religions]… I remember a time I could not read, but pestered my mother to read aloud to me out of the Orbis Pictus, an old, richly illustrated children’s book, which contained an account of exotic religions, especially that of the Hindus./ There were illustrations of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva which I found an inexhaustible source of interest. My mother later told me that I always returned to these pictures. Whenever I did so, I had an obscure feeling of their affinity with my “original revelation” — which I never spoke of to anyone. It was a secret I must never betray. Indirectly, my mother confirmed this feeling, for the faint tone of contempt with which she spoke of “heathens” did not escape me. I knew that she would reject my “revelation” with horror, and I did not want to expose myself to any injury.

This childlike behavior was connected on the one hand with an intense sensitivity and vulnerability, on the other hand–and this especially–with the loneliness of my early youth.

“I hated going to church” [and still reviewers often say he was a Christian. I don’t believe it as Christianity is a “religion” and I believe he was most involved in personal revelation and his own journey.] I hated going to church.

6. [rustic schoolmates alienated him from himself] *When I was with them I became different from the way I was at home. I joined in their pranks, or invented ones which at home would never have occurred to me, so it seemed; although, as I knew only too well, I could hatch up all sorts of things when I was alone. It seemed to me that the change in myself was due to the influence of my school fellows, who somehow misled me or compelled me to be different from what I thought I was. The influence of this wider world, this world which contained others besides my parents, seemed to me dubious if not altogether suspect and, in some obscure way, hostile. Though I became increasingly aware of the beauty of the bright daylight world where “golden sunlight filters through green leaves,” at the same time I had a premonition of an inescapable world of shadows filled with frightening unanswerable questions which had me at their mercy. My nightly prayer did, or course, grant me a ritual protection since it concluded the day properly and just as properly ushered in night and sleep. But the new peril lurked by day. It was as if I sensed a splitting of myself, and feared it… (p. 19)

7. [Past-life regression] I also recall from this period (seven to nine) that I was fond of playing with fire. In our garden there was an old wall built of large blocks of stone, the interstices of which made interesting caves. I used to tend a little fire in one of these caves, with other children helping me, a fire that had to burn forever and therefore, had to be constantly maintained by our united efforts, which consisted in gathering the necessary wood. No one but myself was allowed to tend this fire. Others could light other fires in other caves, but these fires were profane and did not concern me. My fire alone was living and had an unmistakable aura of sanctity.

In front of this wall was a slope in which was embedded a stone that jutted out–my stone. Often, when I was alone, I sat down on this stone, and then began an imaginary game that went something like this: “I am sitting on top of this stone and it is underneath” But the stone also could say: “I” and think: “I am lying here on this slope and he is sitting on top of me.” The question then arose, “Am I the one who is sitting on the stone, or am I the stone on which he is sitting?” This question was what now. The answer remained totally unclear, and my uncertainty was accompanied by a feeling of curious and fascinating darkness. But there was no doubt whatsoever that this stone stood in some secret relationship to me. I could sit on it for hours, fascinated by the puzzle it set me. (p. 20)

2 SCHOOL YEARS

Monday, June 20th, 2016

4. [Talking about his “mysteries” secrets and past-life experiences as an altared reality p. 27] The dream of the ityphallic god was my first great secret; the manikin was the second. It does seem however, that I had a vague sense of relationship between the “soul-stone” and the stone which was also myself.

3. (Ultra human personality p. 27) To this day, writing down my memories at the age of eighty-three, I have never fully unwound the tangle of my earliest memories. They are like individual shoots of a single underground rhizome, like stations on a road of unconscious development. While it became increasingly impossible for me to adopt a positive attitude to Lord Jesus, I remember that from the time I was eleven the idea of God began to interest me. I took to praying to God, and this somehow satisfied me because it was a prayer without contradictions. God was not complicated by my distrust. Moreover, he was not a person in a black roe, and not Lord Jesus of the pictures, draped with brightly colored clothes, with whom people behaved so familiarly. Rather he was a unique being of whom, so I heard, it was impossible to form any correct conception. He was, to be sure, something like any correct conception. he was, to be sure, something like a very powerful old man. But to my great satisfaction there was a commandment to the effect that “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image or any likeness of anything.” Therefore one could not deal with him as familiarly as with Lord  Jesus, who was so “secret.” A certain analogy with my secret in the attic began to dawn on me. (p. 27)

7. (past-life reality p. 32-35) I was taking the long road to school from Klein-Huningen, where we lived, to Basel, when suddenly for a single moment I had the overwhelming impression of having just emerged from a dense cloud. I knew all at once, now I am myself! It was as if a wall of mist were at my back, and behind that wall there was not yet an “i.”  But at that moment I came upon myself. Previously I had existed, too, but everything had merely happened to me. (p. 32) Now I happened to myself. Now I knew: I am myself now, now I exist. Previously I had been willed to do this and that; now “I” willed . This experience seemed to me tremendously important and new: there was authority in me.  Curiously at this time and also during the months of my fainting neurosis (he fainted when he didn’t want to go to school) I had lost all memory of the treasure in the attic. Otherwise I would probably have realized even then the analogy between my feeling of authority and the feeling of value which the treasure inspired in me. But that was not so; all memory of the pencil case had vanished.

Around this time I was invited to spend the holidays with friends of the family who had a house on Lake Lucerne. to my delight, the house was situated right on the lake, and there was  a boathouse and a rowboat. My host allowed his son and me to use the boat, although we were sternly warned not to be reckless. Unfortunately I also knew how ot steer a Waidling (a boat of the gondola type) — that is to say, standing. At home we had such a punt, in which we had tried out every imaginable trick.  The first thing I did therefore, was to take my stand on the stern seat and with one oar push off into the lake. That was too much for the anxious master of the house. He whistled us back and gave me a first-class dressing -down. I was thoroughly crestfallen but had to admit that I had done exactly what he had said not to, and that his lecture was quite justified. At the same time I was seized with rage that this fat, ignorant boor should dare to insult ME. This ME was not only grown up, but important, an authority, a person with office and dignity, an old man, an object of respect and awe. Yet the contrast with reality was so grotesque that in the midst of my fury I suddenly stopped myself, for the question rose to my lips: “Who in the world are you, anyway? You are reacting as though you were the devil only knows how important! And yet you know he is perfectly right. You are barely twelve years old, a schoolboy, and he is a father and a rich, powerful man besides, who owns two houses and several splendid horses.

Then, to my intense confusion, it occurred to me that I was actually two different persons. One of them was the schoolboy who could not grasp algebra and was far from sure of himself, (p. 33)   the other was important, a high authority, a man not to be trifled with, as powerful and influential as this manufacturer. This “other” was an old man who lived in the eighteenth century, wore buckled shoes and a white wig and went driving in a fly with high, concave rear wheels between which the box was suspended on springs and leather straps.

This notion sprang from a curious experience I had had. When we were living in Klein-Huningen, an ancient green carriage from the Black Forest drove past our home one day. It was truly an antique, looking exactly exactly as it had come straight out of the eighteenth century. When I saw it, I felt with great excitement: “That’s it! Sure enough, that comes from my times.” …Then came a curious sentiment ecoeurant, as though someone had stolen something from me, or as though I had been cheated–cheated out of my beloved past. The carriage was a relic of those times! I cannot describe what was happening in me or what it was that affected me so strongly: a longing, a nostalgia, or a recognition that kept saying, “Yes, that’s how it was! Yes, that’s how it was!”

[He continues into how he was Dr. Stuckelberger “a well-known personality in the city of Basel toward the end of the eighteenth century and made a fool of a woman that approached him saying she was sick].[A] statuette of the old doctor had buckled shoes which in a strange way I recognized as my own. I was convinced that these were shoes I had worn. The conviction drove me wild with excitement. “Why, those must be mys shoes!” (p. 34). I could still feel those shoes on my feet, and yet I could not explain where this crazy feeling came from. I could not understand this identity I felt with the eighteenth century. Often in those days I would write the date 1786 instead of 1886, and each time this happened I was overcome by an inexplicable nostalgia.

After my escapade with the boat, and my well-merited punishment, I began pondering these isolated impressions, and they coalesced into a coherent picture: of myself living in two ages simultaneously, and being two different persons. I felt confused, and was full to the rim with heavy reflections. At last I reached the disappointing realization that now, at any rate, I was nothing but the little school boy who had deserved his punishment, and who had to behave according to his age. The other person must be sheer nonsense. (p. 35)

8. [complete submission to the divine: Page 37-38 is about his conversion to his own authentic communication with the divine and how a powerful force forced him against his will to think heretical thoughts. He fought against it for days until finally he released and found the thought silly. He learned that his divine being wants him to submit to IT, not to a church’s directives. These pages are well worth reading. – search for: One fine summer day that same year I came out of school at noon and went to the cathedral square.] The heretical thought was this:

I gathered all my courage, as though I were about to leap forthwith into hell-fire, and let the thought come. I saw before me the cathedral, the blue sky, God sits on His golden throne, high above the world–and from under the throne an enormous turd falls upon the sparkling new roof, shatters it, and breaks the walls of the cathedral asunder. (p. 39)

So that was it! I felt an enormous, an indescribable relief. Instead of the expected damnation, grace had come upon me, and with it an unutterable bliss such as I had never known. I wept for happiness and gratitude. The wisdom and goodness of God had been revealed to me now that I had yielded to His inexorable command. It was as though I had experienced an illumination. A great many things I had not previously understood came clear to me.

…One must be utterly abandoned to God; nothing matters but fulfilling His will. Otherwise all is folly and meaninglessness. From that moment on, when I experienced grace, my true responsibility began. (p. 40)

9. (this archetype with an inferiority complex ) The experience also had the effect of increasing my sense of inferiority, I am a devil or a swine, I thought; I am infinitely depraved. But then I began searching through the New Testament and read, with a certain satisfaction, about the pharisee and the publican, and that reprobates are the chosen ones. It made a lasting impression on me that the unjust steward was praised, and that Peter, the waverer, was appointed the rock upon which the Church was built.

10. (searching for others with ultra human natures p. 41) I wanted to find out whether other people had undergone similar experiences. I never succeeded in discovering so much as a trace of them in others. As a result, I had the feeling that I was either outlawed or elect, accursed or blessed…. I did not say anything about the phallus dream until I was sixty-five…my entire youth can be understood in terms of this secret. It induced in me an almost unendurable loneliness. My one great achievement during those years was that I resisted the temptation to talk about it was anyone. Thus the pattern of my relationship to the world was already prefigured. (p. 41)

6. [Alienation from all others] I know things and must hint at things which other people do not know, and usually do not even want to know…

I heard many religious conversations, theological discussions, and sermons. Whenever I listened to them I had the feeling: “Yes, yes, that is all very well. But what about the secret? The secret is also the secret of grace.” … I devoured the books, but came away none the wiser, I always found myself thinking, “They don’t know either.” I even searched about in my father’s Luther Bible. Unfortunately, the conventional “edifying” interpretation of Job prevented me from taking a deeper interest in this book. I would have found consolation in it, especially in Chapter 9, verses 30ffx “Though I wash myself with snow water…yet shalt thou plunge me in the mire.,,, I was but the sum of my emotions, and the Other in me was the timeless imperishable stone. (p. 42)

[Jung had many discussions with his father which irritated his father.  Jung’s father’s paternal advice]: Oh nonsense,” he was in the habit of saying, “you always want to think. One ought not to think, but believe.” I would think, “no, one must experience and know.” (p. 43)

4,3. (The secret as part of his religion and ultra human nature) …I found myself being guilty and at the same time wishing to be innocent. Somewhere deep in the background I always knew that I was two persons. One was the son of my parents, who went to school and was less intelligent, attentive, hard-working, decent, and clean than many other boys. The other was grown up–old, in fact–skeptical, mistrustful, remote from the world of men, but close to nature, the earth, the sun, the moon, the weather, all living creatures and above all close to the night, to dreams, and to whatever “God” worked directly in him. (p. 44) I put “God” in quotation marks here. For nature seemed, like myself, to have been set aside by God as non-divine, although created by Him as an expression of himself. …I believed that nature [flowery imagery of nature] exemplified the essence of God than men with their ridiculous clothes, their meanness, vanity, mendacity, and abhorrent egotism–all qualities I was all too familiar with myself that is from personality 1, the schoolboy of 1890. Besides his wold there existed another realm, like a temple in which anyone who entered was transformed and suddenly overpowered by a vision of the whole cosmos so that he could only marvel and admire, forgetful of himself. Here lived the “Other,” who knew God as a hidden, personal, and at the same time suprapersonal secret. Here nothing separated man from God; indeed it was though the human mind looked down upon Creation simultaneously with God.

What I am unfolding, sentence by sentence, is something I was then not conscious of in any articulate way, though I sensed it with an overpowering premonition and intensity of feeling. At such times I knew I was worthy of myself, That I was my true self. As son as I was alone, I could pass over into this state. I therefore sought the peace and solitude of the “Other,” personality No. 2.

The play and counterplay between personalities No. 1 and No. 2, which has run through my whole life, has nothing to do with a “split” or dissociation in the ordinary medical sense. On the contrary, it is played out in every individual. In my life, No. 2 has been of prime importance, and I have always tried to make room for anything that wanted to come to me from within. He is a typical figure, but he is perceived only by the very few. (p. 45)

3. (His ultra human nature) …To me it seemed that one’s duty was to explore daily the will of God. [which he would have done but] Personality No. 1 preoccupied me too much of the time….my father’s sermons and those of other parsons became acutely embarrassing to me. All the people about me seemed to take the jargon for granted and the dense obscurity that emanated from it; thoughtlessly they swallowed all the contradictions, such as that God’s ominiscient and therefore foresaw all human history, and that he actually created human beings so that would have to sin, and nevertheless forbids them to sin and even punishes them by eternal damnation in hell-fire. (p. 48)

4. (Secret?) From the beginning I had a sense of destiny, as though my life was assigned to me by fate and had to be fulfilled. This gave me an inner security and though I could never prove it to myself, it proved itself to me. I did not have this certainty, it had me. Nobody could rob me of the conviction that it was enjoined upon me to do what God wanted and not what I wanted. That gave me the strength to go my own way. Often I had the feeling that in all decisive matters I was no longer among men, but was alone with God. and when I was “there” where I was no longer alone, I was outside time; I belonged to the centuries; and He who then gave answer was before my birth. He who always is was there. These talks with the “Other” were my profoundest experiences: on the one hand a bloody struggle, on the other supreme ecstacy.

11. [It’s familial – His mother was much like him] (p. 49) There was an enormous difference between my mother’s two personalities. That was why as a child I often had anxiety dreams about her. By day she was a loving mother, but at night she seemed uncanny. Then she was like one of those seers who is at the same time a strange animal, like a priestess in a bear’s cave. Archaic and ruthless; ruthless as truth and nature. At such moments she was the embodiment of what I have called the n”natural mind.” [fn: The “natural mind” is the “mind which says absolutely straight and ruthless things.” (Seminar on Interpretation of Visions-Zurich, privately printed 1940) “That is the sort of mind which springs from natural sources, and not from opinions taken from books; it wells up from the earth like a natural spring, and brings with it the peculiar wisdom of nature.”]

12. (psychic gifts)… I too have this archaic nature, and in me it is linked with the gift–not always pleasant–of seeing people and things as they are. (p. 50) Recounting a man’s story to his face thinking it was a “story.” He knows things he really can’t know at all.(51)

6. [Throughout 52 where he’s attempting to reach his father and 53-56 where he was looking amongst friends. through his confirmation] I understood religion as something that God did to me; it was an act on His part, to which I must simply yield, for He was the stronger.(57)

13. [His mother told him to read Goethe’s Faust] At last I had found confirmation that there were or had been people who saw evil and its universal power, and –more important–the mysterious role it played in delivering man from darkness and suffering. [He finds similar people through philosopher’s and books) (p. 60)

3. [Something more] In the light of these consideration sine ira et studio, I was struck by the analogy with that other train of ideas which had impressed itself on me so forcefully when I did not want to think the forbidden thought. Although at that time I doubtless saw no difference as yet between personalities No. 1 and No. 2 and still claimed the world of No. 2 as my own personal world, there was always, deep in the background, the feeling that something other than myself was involved. It was as though a breath of the great world of stars and endless space had touched me, or as if a spirit had invisibly entered the room–the spirit of one who had long been dead and yet was perpetually present in timelessness until far into the future. Denouements of this sort were wreathed with the halo of a numen.

That what I was now getting to know as reality  belonged to an order of things different from the view of the world I had grown up with in the country, among rivers and woods, among men and animals in a small village bathed in sunlight, with the winds and the clouds moving over it, and encompassed by dark night in which uncertain things happened. It was no mere locality on the map, but “God’s world,” so ordered by Him and filled with secret meaning.

13. (Researching literature and books – like we’re doing now?) We had Pythagoras in common, but he like Professor Echart. (p. 66)

14. (Academics) attempted to force something to come out by tricks of logic, something they have not been granted and do not really know about. They want to prove a belief to themselves, whereas actually it is a matter of experience (so he says over and again.) He likes Schopenhauer’s suffering of the world (p. 69)  In science I missed the factor of meaning; and in religion, that of empiricism (YES!)

15. (bringing it all together) Only once did it happen that I too went on a vacation trip. [He was 14 and sent to a kind of sanitarium for a “cure” and was thrown in with adults. Here he met and befriended a chemist. Jung saw him as a scientist who might even know about the secret of stones (not). But he was a young man who taught him croquet. Jung was invited to go to a distillery with the boarders where he actually got drunk.] p. 76

I found the various little glasses so inspiring that I was wafted into an entirely new and unexpected state of consciousness. There was no longer any inside or outside, no longer an “I” and the “others,” No. 1 and No. 2 were no more; caution and timidity were gone, and the earth and sky, the universe and everything in it that creeps and flies , revolves, rises, or falls, had all become one. I was shamefully, gloriously, triumphantly drunk. It was as if I were drowned in a sea of blissful musings, but because of the violent heaving of the waves, had to cling with eyes, hands and feet to all solid objects in order to keep my balance on the swaying streets and between the cooking houses and trees.

When his father fetched him, he treated Jung to a boat ride and then a ride alone on a tram up a mountain (p. 78) [where he found “God’s world” on the top.] So profound was the impression this made upon me that my memories of everything that happened afterward in “God’s world” were completely blotted out. But No. 1 also came into his own on this trip and his impressions remained with me for the rest of my life.

[In the beginning after struggling with where he wants to focus his career, a sudden inspiration came that he could study medicine. Of course I’m feeling his “Other” personality’s influence as he was a doctor in the 18th Century. pp. 86 – 87]

2. About this time I had a dream which both frightened and encouraged me. it was night in some unknown place, and I was making slow and painful headway against a mighty wind. Dense fog was flying along everywhere. I had my hands cupped around a tiny light which threatened to go out at any moment. Everything depended on my keeping the little light alive. Suddenly I had the feeling that something was coming up behind me. I looked back, and saw a gigantic black figure following me. But at the same moment I was conscious, in spite of my terror, that I must keep my little light going through night and wind, regardless of all dangers. When I awoke I realized at once that the figure was a “specter of the Brocken, my own shadow on the swirling mists, brought into being by the little light I was carrying. I knew, too, that this little light was my consciousness, the only light I have. My own understanding is the sole treasure I possess, and the greatest. Though infinitely small and fragile in comparison with the powers of darkness, it is still a light, my only light.

This dream was a great illumination for me. Now I knew that No. 1 was the bearer of the light, and that No. 2 followed him like a shadow. My task was to shield the light and not look back at the vita peracta; this was evidently a forbidden realm of light of a different sort. I must go forward against the storm, which sought to thrust me back into the immeasurable darkness of things in the background. In the role of No. 1, I had to go forward into study, moneymaking, responsibilities, entanglements, confusions, errors, submissions, defeats…(p. 88)

My worldview turned around another ninety degrees; I recognized clearly that my path led irrevocably outward, into the limitations and darkness of three-dimensionality. I asked myself: “Whence comes such a dream?” Till then I had taken it for granted that such dreams were sent directly by God. But now I had imbibed so much epistemology that doubts assailed me. One might say, for instance, that my insight had been slowly ripening for a long time and had then suddenly broken through in a dream. And that, indeed, is what had happened. But this explanation is merely a description. The real question was why this process took place and why it broke through into consciousness.  Consciously I had done nothing to promote any such development; on the contrary, my sympathies were on the other side. Something must therefore have been at work behind the scenes, some intelligence, at any rate something more intelligent than myself. For the extraordinary idea that in the light of consciousness the inner realm of light appears as a gigantic shadow was not something I would have hit on of my own accord. Now all at once I understood many things that had been inexplicable to me before–in particular that cold shadow of embarrassment and estrangement which passed over people’s faces whenever I alluded to anything reminiscent of the inner realm.

3. I must leave No. 2 behind me, that was clear. But under no circumstances ought I to deny him to myself or declare him invalid. That would have been a self-mutilation, and would more over have deprived me of any possibility of explaining the origin of the dreams. For there was no doubt in my mind that No. 2 had something to do with the creation of dreams, and I could easily credit him with the necessary superior intelligence. But I felt myself to be increasingly identical to 1 and this state proved in turn to be merely a part of the far more comprehensive No. 2 with whom for that very reason I could no longer fell myself identical. He was indeed a specter, a spirit who could hold his own against the world of darkness. This was something I had not known before the dream, and even at the time–I am sure of this in retrospect–I was conscious of it only vaguely, although I knew it emotionally beyond a doubt. (p. 89)

A schism had taken place between me and No. 2, with the result that “I” was assigned to No. 1 and was separated from No. 2 in the same degree, who thereby acquired, as it were, an autonomous personality. I did not connect this with the idea of any definite individuality, such as a revenant might have, although with my rustic origins this possibility would not have seemed strange to me. In the country people believe in these things according to the circumstances: they are and they are not. The only distinct feature about this spirit was his historical character, his extension in time, or rather his timelessness. Of course I did not tell myself this in so many words nor did I form any conception of his spatial existence. He played the role of a factor in the background of my No. 1 existence. He played the role of a factor in the background of my No. 1 existence, never clearly defined but yet definitely present.

[Conversations with his father were impossible. His mother was rooted in the Christian faith. This apparition was somehow connected to animals, trees, mountains, meadows, and running water, all of which contrasted most strangely with her Christian surface and her conventional assertions of faith. This background corresponded so well to my own attitude that it caused me no uneasiness, on the contrary, it gave me a sense of security and the conviction that here was solid ground on which one could stand. I never occurred to me how “pagan this foundation was. My mother’s No. 2 offered me the strongest support in the conflict then beginning between paternal tradition and the strange, compensatory products which my unconscious had been stimulated to create.

16. [Jung theorizes the connection with the Other spirit and his parents upbringing]…Although we human beings have our own personal life, we are yet in large measure the representatives, the victims and promoters of a collective spirit whose years are counted in centuries. We can well think all our lives long that we are following our own noses, and may never discover that we are, for the most part, supernumeraries on the stage of the world theater. There are factors which although we do not know them, nevertheless influence our lives. There are factors which although we do not know them, nevertheless influence our lives, the more so if they are unconscious. Thus at least a part of our being lives in the centuries–that part which, for my private use, I have designated No. 2. That it is not an individual curiosity is proved by the religion of the West which expressly applies itself to this inner man and for two thousand years has earnestly tried to bring him to the knowledge of our surface consciousness with its personalistic … (Go not outside; truth dwells in the inner man). (p. 91)

[Unsuccessful attempts to assist father’s religious torment by trying to share religious experience’s superiority over faith.] I saw how hopelessly he was entrapped by teh Church and its theological thinking. They had blocked all avenues by which he might have reached God directly, and then faithlessly abandoned him. Now I understood the deepest meaning of my earlier experience: God Himself had disavowed theology and the Church founded upon it. On the other hand God condoned this theology, as He condoned so much else. It seemed ridiculous to me to suppose that men were responsible for such developments. What were men anyways? “They are born dumb and blind as puppies,” I thought, “and like all God’s creatures are furnished with the dimmest light, never enough to illuminate the darkness in which they grope.” I was equally sure that none of the theologians I knew had ever seen “the light that shineth in the darkness” with his own eyes, for if they had they would not have been able to teach a “theological religion,” which seemed quite inadequate to me, since there was nothing to do with it but believe it without hope. … [His father] could not even defend himself against the ridiculous materialism of the psychiatrists. This, too was something that one had to believe, just like theology, only in the opposite sense. I felt both of them lacked epistemological [theory of knowledge] criticism as well as experience.

My father was obviously under the impression that psychiatrists had discovered something in the brain which proved that in the place where mind should have been there was only matter, and nothing “spiritual.” This was borne out by his admonitions that if I studied medicine I should in Heaven’s name not become a materialst. To me this warning meant that I ought to believe nothing at all, for I knew that materialists believed in their definitions just as the theologians did in theirs, and that my poor father had simply jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. I recognized that this celebrated faith of his had played this deadly trick on him, and not only on him but on most ot the cultivated and serious people I knew. The arch sin of faith, it seemed to me, was that it forestalled experience.How did the theologians know that God had deliberately arranged certain things and “permitted” certain others, and how did the psychiatrists know that matter was endowed with the qualities of the human mind? I was in no danger of succumbing to materialism, but my father certainly was. Apparently someone had whispered something about “suggestion,” for I discovered that he was reading Berhneim’s book on suggestion in Sigmund Freud’s translation. [p.94] 

[p. 98-100] During my first years at the university I made the discovery that while science opened the door to enormous quantities of knowledge, it provided genuine insights very sparingly, and these in the main were of a specialized nature. I knew from my philosophical reading that teh existence of the psyche was responsible for this situation. Without the psyche there would be neither knowledge or insight. Yet nothing was ever said about the psyche. Everywhere it was tacitly taken for granted, and even when someone mentioned it…there was no real knowledge of it, fut only philosophical speculation which might just as easily take one turn as another. I could make neither head nor tail of this curious observation.

At the end of my second semester, however, I made another discovery, which was to have great consequences. In the library of a classmate’s father I came upon a small book on spiritualistic phenomena, dating from the seventies. It was an account of the beginnings of spiritualism, and was written by a theologian. My initial doubts were quickly dissipated, for I could not help seeing that the phenomena described in the book were in principle much the same as the stories I had heard again and again in the country since my earliest childhood. The material, without a doubt, was authentic. But the great question of whether these stories were physically true was not answered to my satisfaction. Nevertheless, it could be established that at all times and all over the world the same stories had been reported again and again. There muyst be some reason for this, and it could not possibly have been the predominance of the same religious conceptions everywhere for that was obviously not the case. Rather it must be connected with the objective behavior of the human psyche. But with regard to the cardinal question–the objective nature of the psyche–I could find out absolutely nothing, except what the philosophers said.

The observations of the spiritualists, weird and questionable as they seemed to me, were the first accounts I had seen of objective psychic phenomena. Names like Zoellner and Crookes impressed themselves on me, and I read virtually the whole of the literature available to me at the time. Naturally I also spoke of these matters to my comrades, who to my great astonishment reacted with derision and disbelief or with anxious defensiveness. I wondered at the sureness with which tehy could assert taht things like ghosts and table-turning were impossible and therefore fraudulent, and on the other hand at the evidently anxious nature of their defensiveness. I, too, was not certain of teh absolute reliability of the reports, but why, after all, should there not be ghosts? How did we know taht something was “impossible”? And, aove all what did the anxiety signify? For myself I found such possibilities extremely interesting and attractive. They added another dimension to my life; the world gained depth and background. Could for example, dreams have anything to do with ghosts? Kant’s DREAMS OF A SPIRIT SEER came just at the right moment, [synchronicity] and soon I also discovered Karl Duprel, who had evaluated hese ideas philosophically and psychologically. I dug up Eschenmayer, Passavant, Justinus Kerner, and Gorres and read seven volumes of Swedenborg.

My mother’s No. 2 sympathized wholeheartedly with my enthusiasm, but everyone else I knew was distinctly discouraging. Hitherto I had encountered only the brick wall of traditional views, but now I came up against the steel of people’s prejudice and their utter incapacity to admit unconventional possibilities.

[p. 101 He abhorred anatomy because of the practice of dissecting live animals.]  My compassion for animals did not derive from the Buddhistic trimmings of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, but rested on the deeper foundation of a primitive attitude of mind–on an unconscious identity with animals. At the time, of course, I was wholly ignorant of this important psychological fact.

[p. 102-103 Speaking of Nietzsche] Thoughts out of Season was the first volume that fell into my hands. I was carried away by enthusiasm, and soon afterward read Thus Spake Zarathustra. This, like Goethe’s Faust, was a tremendous experience for me. Zarathustra was Nietzsche’s Faust, his No. 2 and my No. 2 now corresponded to Zarathustra–though this was rather like comparing a molehill with Mount Blanc. And Zarathustra–there could be no doubt about that–was morbid. Was my No. 2 also morbid? This possibility filled me with a terror which for a long time I refused to admit, but the idea cropped up again and again at inopportune moments, throwing me into a cold sweat, so that in the end I was forced to reflect on myself. Nietzsche had discovered his No. 2 only late in life, when he was already past middle age, whereas I had known mine ever since boyhood. Nietzsche had spoken naively and incautiously about this arrheton, this thing not to be named, as though it were quite in order. But I had noticed in time that this only leads to trouble….That I thought, was his morbid misunderstanding: that he fearlessly and unsuspectingly let his No. 2 loose upon a world that knew and understood nothing about such things. He was moved by the childish hope of finding people who would be able to share his ecstasies and could grasp his “transvaluation of all values.” But he found only educated Philistines–tragi-comically, he was one himself. Like the rest of them, he did not understand himself when he fell head first into the unutterable mystery and wanted to sing its praises to the dull, godforsaken masses. That was the reason for the bombastic language, the piling up of metaphors, the hymnlike raptures–all a vain attempt to catch the ear of a world which had sold its soul for a mass of disconnected facts.  The rest of my friends were not so much dumbfounded by the phenomenon of Zarathustra as simply immune to its appeal.

I realized that one gets nowhere unless one talks to people about the things THEY know. The naive person does not appreciate what an insult it is to talk to one’s fellows about anything that is unknown to them.

[p. 104] I realized that I talked only for want of something better, that I ought to be offering facts, and these I lacked entirely. I had nothing concrete in my hands. More than ever I found myself driven toward empiricism. I began to blame the philosophers for rattling away when experience was lacking, and holding their tongues when they ought to have been answering with facts.

* * * * *

[pp. 104-106] During the summer holidays however, something happened that was destined to influence me profoundly. One day I was sitting in my room, studying my textbooks. In the adjoining room, the door to which stood ajar, my mother was knitting. That was our dinging room, where the round walnut dining table stood. The table had come from the dowry of my paternal grandmother, and was at this time about seventy years old. My mother was sitting by the window, about a year away from the table. My sister was at school and our maid in the kitchen. Suddenly there sounded a report like a pistol shot. I jumped up and rushed into the room from which the noise of the explosion had come. My mother was sitting flabbergasted in her armchair, the knitting fallen from her hands. She stammered out, “W-w-what’s happened? It was right beside me!”and stared at the table. Following her eyes, I saw what had happened. The table top had split from the rim to beyond the center, and not along any join; the split ran right through the solid wood. I was thunderstruck. How could such a thing happen? A table of solid walnut that had dried out for seventy years–how could it split on a summer day in the relatively high degree of humidity characteristic of our climate? If it had stood next to a heated stove on a cold, dry winter day, then it might have been conceivable. What in the world could have caused such an explosion? “There certainly are curious accidents,” I thought. My mother nodded darkly. “Yes, yes,” she said in her No. 2 voice., “that means something.” Against my will I was impressed and annoyed with myself for not finding anything to say.

Some two weeks later I came home at six o’clock in the evening and found the household-my mother, my fourteen-year-old sister, and the maid–in a great state of agitation. About an hour earlier there had been another deafening report. This time it was not the already damaged table; the noise had come from the direction of the sideboard , a heavy piece of furniture dating from the early nineteenth century. They had already looked all over it, but had found no trace of a split. I immediately began examining the sideboard and the entire surrounding area, but just as fruitlessly. Then I began on the interior of the sideboard. In the cupboard containing the bread basket I found a loaf of bread, and , beside it, the bread knife. The greater part of the blade had snapped off in several pieces. The handle lay in one corner of the rectangular basket,and in each of the other corners lay a piece of the blade. The knife had been used shortly before, at four-o’clock tea, and afterward put away. Since then no one had gone to the sideboard.

The next day I took the shattered knife to one of the best cutlers in the town. He examined the fractures with a magnifying glass, and shook his head. “This knife is perfectly sound,” he said. “There is no fault in the steel. Someone must have deliberately broken it piece by piece. It could be done, for instance, by sticking the blade into the crack of the drawer and breaking off a piece at a time. Or else it might have been dropped on stone from a great height. But good steel can’t explode. Someone has been pulling your leg.” I have carefully kept the pieces of the knife to this day.

[He analyzes the situation and comes to no conclusion.]

[p. 107] A few weeks later I heard of certain relatives who had been engaged for some time in table-turning, and also had a medium, a young girl of fifteen and a half. The group had been thinking of having me meet the medium, who produced somnambulistic states and spiritualistic phenomena. When I heard this, I immediately thought of the strange manifestations in our house, and I conjectured that they might be somehow connected with this medium. I therefore began attending the regular seances which my relatives held every Saturday evening. We had results in the form of communications and tapping noises from the walls and the table. Movements of the table independently of the medium were questionable, and I soon found out that limiting conditions imposed on the experiment generally had an obstructive effect. I therefore accepted the obvious autonomy of the tapping noises and turned my attentionto the content of the communications. I set forth the results of these observations in my doctoral thesis. After about two years of experimentation we all became rather weary of it. I caught the medium trying to produce the phenomena by trickery, and this made me break off the experiments–very much to my regret, for I had learned from this example how a No. 2 personality is formed, how it enters into a child’s consciousness and finally integrates into itself. She was one of the precociously matured personalities, and she died of tuberculosis at the age of twenty-six. I saw her once again, when she was twenty-four, and received a lasting impression of the independence and maturity of her personality. …

[p107] All in all, this was the one great experience which wiped out all my earlier philosophy and made it possible for me to achieve a psychological point of view. I had discovered some objective facts about the human psyche. (definition of psyche: the human soul, mind, or spirit. soulspirit, (inner) self, ego, true being, inner persona,subconsciousmindintellect)Yet the nature of the experience was such that once again I was unable to speak of it. I knew no one to whom I could have told the whole story. Once more I had to lay aside an unfinished problem. I was not until two years later that my dissertation appeared.

[pp. 108-113 Probably how he chose psychiatry to treat “diseases of the personality” would be interesting. He might have thought through this discipline he’d access and “treat” the psyche but the career got the best of him as materialist as it is.  I will satisfy myself with his contact with psychic phenomenon in this chapter and close my digesting here.]

3 STUDENT YEARS

Sunday, June 19th, 2016

[In the beginning after struggling with where he wants to focus his career, a sudden inspiration came that he could study medicine. Of course I’m feeling his “Other” personality’s influence as he was a doctor in the 18th Century. pp. 86 – 87]

2. About this time I had a dream which both frightened and encouraged me. it was night in some unknown place, and I was making slow and painful headway against a mighty wind. Dense fog was flying along everywhere. I had my hands cupped around a tiny light which threatened to go out at any moment. Everything depended on my keeping the little light alive. Suddenly I had the feeling that something was coming up behind me. I looked back, and saw a gigantic black figure following me. But at the same moment I was conscious, in spite of my terror, that I must keep my little light going through night and wind, regardless of all dangers. When I awoke I realized at once that the figure was a “specter of the Brocken, my own shadow on the swirling mists, brought into being by the little light I was carrying. I knew, too, that this little light was my consciousness, the only light I have. My own understanding is the sole treasure I possess, and the greatest. Though infinitely small and fragile in comparison with the powers of darkness, it is still a light, my only light.

This dream was a great illumination for me. Now I knew that No. 1 was the bearer of the light, and that No. 2 followed him like a shadow. My task was to shield the light and not look back at the vita peracta; this was evidently a forbidden realm of light of a different sort. I must go forward against the storm, which sought to thrust me back into the immeasurable darkness of things in the background. In the role of No. 1, I had to go forward into study, moneymaking, responsibilities, entanglements, confusions, errors, submissions, defeats…(p. 88)

My worldview turned around another ninety degrees; I recognized clearly that my path led irrevocably outward, into the limitations and darkness of three-dimensionality. I asked myself: “Whence comes such a dream?” Till then I had taken it for granted that such dreams were sent directly by God. But now I had imbibed so much epistemology that doubts assailed me. One might say, for instance, that my insight had been slowly ripening for a long time and had then suddenly broken through in a dream. And that, indeed, is what had happened. But this explanation is merely a description. The real question was why this process took place and why it broke through into consciousness.  Consciously I had done nothing to promote any such development; on the contrary, my sympathies were on the other side. Something must therefore have been at work behind the scenes, some intelligence, at any rate something more intelligent than myself. For the extraordinary idea that in the light of consciousness the inner realm of light appears as a gigantic shadow was not something I would have hit on of my own accord. Now all at once I understood many things that had been inexplicable to me before–in particular that cold shadow of embarrassment and estrangement which passed over people’s faces whenever I alluded to anything reminiscent of the inner realm.

3. I must leave No. 2 behind me, that was clear. But under no circumstances ought I to deny him to myself or declare him invalid. That would have been a self-mutilation, and would more over have deprived me of any possibility of explaining the origin of the dreams. For there was no doubt in my mind that No. 2 had something to do with the creation of dreams, and I could easily credit him with the necessary superior intelligence. But I felt myself to be increasingly identical to 1 and this state proved in turn to be merely a part of the far more comprehensive No. 2 with whom for that very reason I could no longer fell myself identical. He was indeed a specter, a spirit who could hold his own against the world of darkness. This was something I had not known before the dream, and even at the time–I am sure of this in retrospect–I was conscious of it only vaguely, although I knew it emotionally beyond a doubt. (p. 89)

A schism had taken place between me and No. 2, with the result that “I” was assigned to No. 1 and was separated from No. 2 in the same degree, who thereby acquired, as it were, an autonomous personality. I did not connect this with the idea of any definite individuality, such as a revenant might have, although with my rustic origins this possibility would not have seemed strange to me. In the country people believe in these things according to the circumstances: they are and they are not. The only distinct feature about this spirit was his historical character, his extension in time, or rather his timelessness. Of course I did not tell myself this in so many words nor did I form any conception of his spatial existence. He played the role of a factor in the background of my No. 1 existence. He played the role of a factor in the background of my No. 1 existence, never clearly defined but yet definitely present.

[Conversations with his father were impossible. His mother was rooted in the Christian faith. This apparition was somehow connected to animals, trees, mountains, meadows, and running water, all of which contrasted most strangely with her Christian surface and her conventional assertions of faith. This background corresponded so well to my own attitude that it caused me no uneasiness, on the contrary, it gave me a sense of security and the conviction that here was solid ground on which one could stand. I never occurred to me how “pagan this foundation was. My mother’s No. 2 offered me the strongest support in the conflict then beginning between paternal tradition and the strange, compensatory products which my unconscious had been stimulated to create.

16. [Jung theorizes the connection with the Other spirit and his parents upbringing]…Although we human beings have our own personal life, we are yet in large measure the representatives, the victims and promoters of a collective spirit whose years are counted in centuries. We can well think all our lives long that we are following our own noses, and may never discover that we are, for the most part, supernumeraries on the stage of the world theater. There are factors which although we do not know them, nevertheless influence our lives. There are factors which although we do not know them, nevertheless influence our lives, the more so if they are unconscious. Thus at least a part of our being lives in the centuries–that part which, for my private use, I have designated No. 2. That it is not an individual curiosity is proved by the religion of the West which expressly applies itself to this inner man and for two thousand years has earnestly tried to bring him to the knowledge of our surface consciousness with its personalistic … (Go not outside; truth dwells in the inner man). (p. 91)

[Unsuccessful attempts to assist father’s religious torment by trying to share religious experience’s superiority over faith.] I saw how hopelessly he was entrapped by teh Church and its theological thinking. They had blocked all avenues by which he might have reached God directly, and then faithlessly abandoned him. Now I understood the deepest meaning of my earlier experience: God Himself had disavowed theology and the Church founded upon it. On the other hand God condoned this theology, as He condoned so much else. It seemed ridiculous to me to suppose that men were responsible for such developments. What were men anyways? “They are born dumb and blind as puppies,” I thought, “and like all God’s creatures are furnished with the dimmest light, never enough to illuminate the darkness in which they grope.” I was equally sure that none of the theologians I knew had ever seen “the light that shineth in the darkness” with his own eyes, for if they had they would not have been able to teach a “theological religion,” which seemed quite inadequate to me, since there was nothing to do with it but believe it without hope. … [His father] could not even defend himself against the ridiculous materialism of the psychiatrists. This, too was something that one had to believe, just like theology, only in the opposite sense. I felt both of them lacked epistemological [theory of knowledge] criticism as well as experience.

My father was obviously under the impression that psychiatrists had discovered something in the brain which proved that in the place where mind should have been there was only matter, and nothing “spiritual.” This was borne out by his admonitions that if I studied medicine I should in Heaven’s name not become a materialst. To me this warning meant that I ought to believe nothing at all, for I knew that materialists believed in their definitions just as the theologians did in theirs, and that my poor father had simply jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. I recognized that this celebrated faith of his had played this deadly trick on him, and not only on him but on most ot the cultivated and serious people I knew. The arch sin of faith, it seemed to me, was that it forestalled experience.How did the theologians know that God had deliberately arranged certain things and “permitted” certain others, and how did the psychiatrists know that matter was endowed with the qualities of the human mind? I was in no danger of succumbing to materialism, but my father certainly was. Apparently someone had whispered something about “suggestion,” for I discovered that he was reading Berhneim’s book on suggestion in Sigmund Freud’s translation. [p.94] 

[p. 98-100] During my first years at the university I made the discovery that while science opened the door to enormous quantities of knowledge, it provided genuine insights very sparingly, and these in the main were of a specialized nature. I knew from my philosophical reading that teh existence of the psyche was responsible for this situation. Without the psyche there would be neither knowledge or insight. Yet nothing was ever said about the psyche. Everywhere it was tacitly taken for granted, and even when someone mentioned it…there was no real knowledge of it, fut only philosophical speculation which might just as easily take one turn as another. I could make neither head nor tail of this curious observation.

At the end of my second semester, however, I made another discovery, which was to have great consequences. In the library of a classmate’s father I came upon a small book on spiritualistic phenomena, dating from the seventies. It was an account of the beginnings of spiritualism, and was written by a theologian. My initial doubts were quickly dissipated, for I could not help seeing that the phenomena described in the book were in principle much the same as the stories I had heard again and again in the country since my earliest childhood. The material, without a doubt, was authentic. But the great question of whether these stories were physically true was not answered to my satisfaction. Nevertheless, it could be established that at all times and all over the world the same stories had been reported again and again. There muyst be some reason for this, and it could not possibly have been the predominance of the same religious conceptions everywhere for that was obviously not the case. Rather it must be connected with the objective behavior of the human psyche. But with regard to the cardinal question–the objective nature of the psyche–I could find out absolutely nothing, except what the philosophers said.

The observations of the spiritualists, weird and questionable as they seemed to me, were the first accounts I had seen of objective psychic phenomena. Names like Zoellner and Crookes impressed themselves on me, and I read virtually the whole of the literature available to me at the time. Naturally I also spoke of these matters to my comrades, who to my great astonishment reacted with derision and disbelief or with anxious defensiveness. I wondered at the sureness with which tehy could assert taht things like ghosts and table-turning were impossible and therefore fraudulent, and on the other hand at the evidently anxious nature of their defensiveness. I, too, was not certain of teh absolute reliability of the reports, but why, after all, should there not be ghosts? How did we know taht something was “impossible”? And, aove all what did the anxiety signify? For myself I found such possibilities extremely interesting and attractive. They added another dimension to my life; the world gained depth and background. Could for example, dreams have anything to do with ghosts? Kant’s DREAMS OF A SPIRIT SEER came just at the right moment, [synchronicity] and soon I also discovered Karl Duprel, who had evaluated hese ideas philosophically and psychologically. I dug up Eschenmayer, Passavant, Justinus Kerner, and Gorres and read seven volumes of Swedenborg.

My mother’s No. 2 sympathized wholeheartedly with my enthusiasm, but everyone else I knew was distinctly discouraging. Hitherto I had encountered only the brick wall of traditional views, but now I came up against the steel of people’s prejudice and their utter incapacity to admit unconventional possibilities.

[p. 101 He abhorred anatomy because of the practice of dissecting live animals.]  My compassion for animals did not derive from the Buddhistic trimmings of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, but rested on the deeper foundation of a primitive attitude of mind–on an unconscious identity with animals. At the time, of course, I was wholly ignorant of this important psychological fact.

[p. 102-103 Speaking of Nietzsche] Thoughts out of Season was the first volume that fell into my hands. I was carried away by enthusiasm, and soon afterward read Thus Spake Zarathustra. This, like Goethe’s Faust, was a tremendous experience for me. Zarathustra was Nietzsche’s Faust, his No. 2 and my No. 2 now corresponded to Zarathustra–though this was rather like comparing a molehill with Mount Blanc. And Zarathustra–there could be no doubt about that–was morbid. Was my No. 2 also morbid? This possibility filled me with a terror which for a long time I refused to admit, but the idea cropped up again and again at inopportune moments, throwing me into a cold sweat, so that in the end I was forced to reflect on myself. Nietzsche had discovered his No. 2 only late in life, when he was already past middle age, whereas I had known mine ever since boyhood. Nietzsche had spoken naively and incautiously about this arrheton, this thing not to be named, as though it were quite in order. But I had noticed in time that this only leads to trouble….That I thought, was his morbid misunderstanding: that he fearlessly and unsuspectingly let his No. 2 loose upon a world that knew and understood nothing about such things. He was moved by the childish hope of finding people who would be able to share his ecstasies and could grasp his “transvaluation of all values.” But he found only educated Philistines–tragi-comically, he was one himself. Like the rest of them, he did not understand himself when he fell head first into the unutterable mystery and wanted to sing its praises to the dull, godforsaken masses. That was the reason for the bombastic language, the piling up of metaphors, the hymnlike raptures–all a vain attempt to catch the ear of a world which had sold its soul for a mass of disconnected facts.  The rest of my friends were not so much dumbfounded by the phenomenon of Zarathustra as simply immune to its appeal.

I realized that one gets nowhere unless one talks to people about the things THEY know. The naive person does not appreciate what an insult it is to talk to one’s fellows about anything that is unknown to them.

[p. 104] I realized that I talked only for want of something better, that I ought to be offering facts, and these I lacked entirely. I had nothing concrete in my hands. More than ever I found myself driven toward empiricism. I began to blame the philosophers for rattling away when experience was lacking, and holding their tongues when they ought to have been answering with facts.

* * * * *

[pp. 104-106] During the summer holidays however, something happened that was destined to influence me profoundly. One day I was sitting in my room, studying my textbooks. In the adjoining room, the door to which stood ajar, my mother was knitting. That was our dinging room, where the round walnut dining table stood. The table had come from the dowry of my paternal grandmother, and was at this time about seventy years old. My mother was sitting by the window, about a year away from the table. My sister was at school and our maid in the kitchen. Suddenly there sounded a report like a pistol shot. I jumped up and rushed into the room from which the noise of the explosion had come. My mother was sitting flabbergasted in her armchair, the knitting fallen from her hands. She stammered out, “W-w-what’s happened? It was right beside me!”and stared at the table. Following her eyes, I saw what had happened. The table top had split from the rim to beyond the center, and not along any join; the split ran right through the solid wood. I was thunderstruck. How could such a thing happen? A table of solid walnut that had dried out for seventy years–how could it split on a summer day in the relatively high degree of humidity characteristic of our climate? If it had stood next to a heated stove on a cold, dry winter day, then it might have been conceivable. What in the world could have caused such an explosion? “There certainly are curious accidents,” I thought. My mother nodded darkly. “Yes, yes,” she said in her No. 2 voice., “that means something.” Against my will I was impressed and annoyed with myself for not finding anything to say.

Some two weeks later I came home at six o’clock in the evening and found the household-my mother, my fourteen-year-old sister, and the maid–in a great state of agitation. About an hour earlier there had been another deafening report. This time it was not the already damaged table; the noise had come from the direction of the sideboard , a heavy piece of furniture dating from the early nineteenth century. They had already looked all over it, but had found no trace of a split. I immediately began examining the sideboard and the entire surrounding area, but just as fruitlessly. Then I began on the interior of the sideboard. In the cupboard containing the bread basket I found a loaf of bread, and , beside it, the bread knife. The greater part of the blade had snapped off in several pieces. The handle lay in one corner of the rectangular basket,and in each of the other corners lay a piece of the blade. The knife had been used shortly before, at four-o’clock tea, and afterward put away. Since then no one had gone to the sideboard.

The next day I took the shattered knife to one of the best cutlers in the town. He examined the fractures with a magnifying glass, and shook his head. “This knife is perfectly sound,” he said. “There is no fault in the steel. Someone must have deliberately broken it piece by piece. It could be done, for instance, by sticking the blade into the crack of the drawer and breaking off a piece at a time. Or else it might have been dropped on stone from a great height. But good steel can’t explode. Someone has been pulling your leg.” I have carefully kept the pieces of the knife to this day.

[He analyzes the situation and comes to no conclusion.]

[p. 107] A few weeks later I heard of certain relatives who had been engaged for some time in table-turning, and also had a medium, a young girl of fifteen and a half. The group had been thinking of having me meet the medium, who produced somnambulistic states and spiritualistic phenomena. When I heard this, I immediately thought of the strange manifestations in our house, and I conjectured that they might be somehow connected with this medium. I therefore began attending the regular seances which my relatives held every Saturday evening. We had results in the form of communications and tapping noises from the walls and the table. Movements of the table independently of the medium were questionable, and I soon found out that limiting conditions imposed on the experiment generally had an obstructive effect. I therefore accepted the obvious autonomy of the tapping noises and turned my attentionto the content of the communications. I set forth the results of these observations in my doctoral thesis. After about two years of experimentation we all became rather weary of it. I caught the medium trying to produce the phenomena by trickery, and this made me break off the experiments–very much to my regret, for I had learned from this example how a No. 2 personality is formed, how it enters into a child’s consciousness and finally integrates into itself. She was one of the precociously matured personalities, and she died of tuberculosis at the age of twenty-six. I saw her once again, when she was twenty-four, and received a lasting impression of the independence and maturity of her personality. …

RESULTS:

[p107] All in all, this was the one great experience which wiped out all my earlier philosophy and made it possible for me to achieve a psychological point of view. I had discovered some objective facts about the human psyche. (definition of psyche: the human soul, mind, or spirit. soulspirit, (inner) self, ego, true being, inner persona,subconsciousmindintellect)Yet the nature of the experience was such that once again I was unable to speak of it. I knew no one to whom I could have told the whole story. Once more I had to lay aside an unfinished problem. I was not until two years later that my dissertation appeared.

[pp. 108-113 Probably how he chose psychiatry to treat “diseases of the personality” would be interesting. He might have thought through this discipline he’d access and “treat” the psyche but the career got the best of him as materialist as it is.  I will satisfy myself with his contact with psychic phenomenon in this chapter and close my digesting here.]

4 PSYCHIATRIC ACTIVITIES

Saturday, June 18th, 2016

[The beginning of this chapter talks a great deal about the development of his studies and career. His memorable cases are interesting as they illustrate his approach to psychiatry and later psychology. The chapter opens:]

(p. 114) Dominating my interests and research was the burning question: “What actually takes place inside the mentally ill?” That was something which I did not understand then, nor had any of my colleagues concerned themselves with such problems. Psychiatry teachers were not interested the patient had to say, but rather in how to make a diagnosis or how to describe symptoms and to compile statistics. From a clinical point of view which then prevailed, the human personality of the patient, his individuality, did not matter at all. Rather, the doctor was confronted with Patient X, with a long list of cut-and-dried diagnoses and a detailing of symptoms. Patients were labeled, rubber-stamped with a diagnosis, and for the most part, that settled the matter. The psychology of the mental patient played no role whatsoever.

[Psychiatry hasn’t changed much, but what they have done is developed psychology so it takes the role of “treating” the patient. What is interesting, though, is that today (2014) there is a strong prevalent materialist view in the healthcare industry which has set back the treatment of neurosis and many psychosis centuries. I believe Jung found the answer in applying personal Myth to therapy, because people seem to respond to find their place in society and seeing where they can fit and be useful.

As a priestess I found this chapter useful since it did show how people respond to their environments but I’m attempting here to stay on target which is to give First Born a clue as to who they are which they can superimpose on their lives.]

(p. 131) Since the essence of psychotherapy is not the application of a method, psychiatric study alone does not suffice. I myself had to work for a very long time before I possessed the equipment for psychotherapy if I did not understand their symbolism. It was then that I began to study mythology.

With cultivated and intelligent patients the psychiatrist needs more than merely professional knowledge. He must understand, aside from all theoretical assumptions, what really motivates the patient. Otherwise he stirs up unnecessary resistances.

(p. 132) The psyche is distinctly more complicated and inaccessible than the body. …  The psychotherapist must understand not only the patient; it is equally important that he should understand himself. For that reason the sine qua non is the analysis of teh analyst, what is called the training analysis…Only when the doctor knows how to cope with his own problems will he be able to teach the patient to do the same…In the training analysis the doctor must learn to know his own psyche and to take it seriously. … He will lose a portion of his psyche, just as the doctor has lost that portion of his psyche which he has not learned to understand.

p. 138-139 I never try to convert a patient to anything and never exercise any compulsion. What matters most to me is that the patient should reach his own view of things. Under my treatment a pagan becomes a pagan and a Christian a Christian, a Jew a Jew, according to what his destiny prescribes for him.

(p. 140) [Jung has a wonderful dream Jung had of a wealthy superficial young Jewish girl who was not superficial at all, but a saint who did not have the requisite mythology and therefore the most essential feature of her nature could find no way to express itself. All her conscious activity was directed toward flirtation, clothes, and sex, because she knew of nothing else. She knew only the intellect and lived a meaningless life. In reality she was a child of God whose destiny was to fulfill His secret will. I had to awaken mythological and religious ideas to her for she belonged to that class of human being to whom spiritual activity demanded. Thus her life took on a meaning, and no trace of the neurosis was left…In this case, I had applied no “method,” but had sensed the presence of the numen. My explaining this to her had accomplished the cure. Method did not matter here; what mattered was the “fear of God.”

I have frequently seen people become neurotic when they content themselves with inadequate or wrong answers to the questions of life. They seek position, marriage, reputation, outward success or money, and remain unhappy and neurotic even when they have attained what they were seeking. Such people are usually confined within too narrow a spiritual horizon. Their life has not sufficient content, sufficient meaning. If they are enabled to develop into more spacious personalities, the neurosis generally disappears. for that reason the idea of development was always of the highest importance to me.

The majority of my patients consisted not of believers but of those who had lost their faith. The ones who came to me were the lost sheep. Even in this day and age the believer has the opportunity in his church to live the “symbolic life.”  … But to live and experience symbols presupposes a vital participation on the part of the believer, and only too often this is lacking in people today. In the neurotic it is practically always lacking. In such cases we have to observe whether the unconscious will not spontaneously bring up symbols to replace what is lacking.  But then the question remains of whether a person who has symbolic dreams or visions will also be able to understand their meaning and take the consequences upon himself.

It is obvious that in the course of his practice a doctor will come across people who have a great effect on him too. He meets personalities who, for better or worse, never stir the interest of the public and who nevertheless, or for that very reason, possess unusual qualities or whose destiny it is to pass through unprecedented developments and disasters. Sometimes they are persons of extraordinary talents, who might well inspire another to give his life for them; but these talents may be implanted in so strangely unfavorable a psychic disposition that we cannot tell whether it is a question of genius or of fragmentary development. Frequently, too, in this unlikely soil there flower rare blossoms of the psyche which we would never have thought to find the flatlands of society. For psychotherapy to be effective a close rapport is needed , so close that the doctor cannot shut his eyes to the heights and depths of human suffering. The rapport consists consists, after all, in a constant comparison and mutual conprehension in the dialectical confrontation of two opposing psychic realities. If for some reason these mutual impressions do not impinge on each other, the psychotherapeutic process remains ineffective, and no change is produced. Unless both doctor and patient become a problem to each other, no solution is found.

(p. 144) Among the so-called neurotics of our day there are a good many who in other ages would not have been neurotic–that is, divided against themselves. If they had lived in a period and to a milieu in which man was still linked by myth with the world of the ancestors, and thus with nature truly experienced and not merely seen from outside, they would have been spared this division with themselves. I am speaking of those who cannot tolerate the loss of myth and who can neither find a way to a merely exterior world, to a world as seen by science, nor rest satisfied with an intellectual juggling with words, which has nothing whatsoever to do with wisdom.

These victims of the psychic dichotomy of our time are merely optional neurotics; their apparent morbidity drops away the moment the gulf between the ego and the unconscious is closed. … The doctor who does not know his own experience the numinosity of the archetypes will scarcely be able to escape their negative effect when he encounters it in his practice. He will tend to over or underestimate it, since he possesses only an intellectual point of view but no empirical criterion. This is where those perilous aberrations begin, the first of which is the attempt to dominate everything by the intellect. This serves the secret purpose of placing both doctor and patient at a safe distance from the archetypal effect and thus from real experience, and of substituting for psychic reality an apparently secure artificial, but merely two-dimensional conceptual world in which the reality of life is well covered up by so-called clear concepts. Experience is stripped of its substance, and instead mere names are substituted, which are henceforth put in the place of reality,. No one has any obligations to a concept; that is what is so agreeable about conceptuality–it promises protection from experience. The spirit does not dwell in concepts, but in deeds and in facts. Words butter no parsnips; nevertheless, this futile procedure is repeated ad infinitum.

(p. 145) In my experience, therefore, the most difficult as well as the most ungrateful patients, apart from habitual liars are the so-called intellectuals. With them, one  hand never knows what the other hand is doing. They cultivate a “compartment psychology.” Anything can be settled by an intellect that is not subject to the control of feeling — and yet the intellectual still suffers from a neurosis if feeling is underdeveloped.

A number of my patients became my disciples in the original sense of the word, and have carried my ideas out into the world. Among them I have made friendships that have endured decade after decade. …My patients brought me so close to teh reality of humanlife that I could not help learning essential things from them.

5 SIGMUND FREUD

Thursday, June 16th, 2016

(P. 146) [As a young psychiatrist, Jung approaches his practice objectively, looking at his patients only from the outside. He eventually read Freud’s book, The Interpretation of Dreams after a first attempt a few years earlier before he had enough experience to assimilate it into his own practice. This book became important to Jung’s developing theories around repression “derived from the psychology of neuroses.” (p. 147) He had frequently encountered repressions in his experiments with word association; in response to certain stimulus words the patient either had no associative answer or was unduly slow in his reaction time. They eventually discovered, such a disturbance occurred each time the stimulus word touched upon a psychic lesion or conflict. In most cases the patient was unconscious of this. when questioned about the cause of the disturbance, he would often answer in a peculiarly artificial manner.] My reading of Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams showed me that the repression mechanism was at work here, and that the facts I had observed were consonant with his theory. [Where Freud attributes neuroses with sexuality, Jung found stronger stimulus such as social adaptation, oppression by tragic circumstances, prestige considerations.]

(p. 148)  Because Freud addressed some of Jung’s own findings with regard to patient’s treatment, Jung was sympathetic toward Freud, though grudgingly since Freud was so unpopular. Jung even defended Freud when a speaker at a congress in Munich spoke of obsessional neuroses, but didn’t mention Freud. Jung wrote an article talking about how much Freud’s work contributed to the topic of Obsessional neuroses.  In response two German professors told Jung that he’d be endangering his academic career if he continued to defend Freud. Jung answered that he wouldn’t support any career that restricted research and concealed truth, however he never reconciled the point that a neuroses was ALWAYS based on sexuality.

and -] (p. 149) Above all, Freud’s attitude toward the spirit seemed to me highly questionable. Wherever, in a person or in a work of art, an expression of spirituality (in the intellectual, not the supernatural sense) came to light, he suspected it, and insinuated that it was repressed sexuality. Anything that could not be directly interpreted as sexuality he referred to as psychosexuality.

(p. 150) I protested that this hypothesis, carried to its logical conclusion, would lead to an annihilating judgment upon culture. Culture would then appear as a mere farce, the morbid consequence of repressed sexuality. “Yes,” he assented, “so it is, and that is just a curse of fate against which we are powerless to contend.” I was by no means disposed to agree – but did not feel competent to disagree.

There was something else that seemed to me significant at that first meeting. It had to do with things which I was able to think out and understand only after our friendship was over:

There was no mistaking the fact Freud was emotionally involved in his sexual theory to an extraordinary degree. When he spoke of it, his tone became urgent, almost anxious, and all signs of his normally critical and skeptical manner vanished.  A strange, deeply moved expression came over his face, the cause of which I was at a loss to understand. I had strong intuition that for him sexuality was a sort of numinosum. This was confirmed by a conversation which took place some three years later (in 1910), again in Vienna.

I can still recall vividly how Freud said to me, “My dear Jung, promise me never to abandon the sexual theory. That is the most essential thing of all. You see, we must make a dogma of it, an unshakable bulwark.” He said that to me with great emotion, in the tone of a father saying, “And promise me this one thing, my dear son: that you will go to church every Sunday.” In some astonishment I asked him, “A bulwark–against what?” To which he replied, “Against the black tide of mud” –and here he hesitated for a moment, then added-“of occultism.”

First of all, it was the words “bulwark” and “dogma” that alarmed me; for a dogma, that is to say, an undisputable confession of faith, is set up only when the aim is to suppress doubts once and for all. But no longer has anything to do with scientific judgment; only with a personal power drive.

This was the thing that struck at the heart of our friendship. I knew that I would never be able to accept such an attitude. What Freud seemed to me by “occultism” was virtually everything that philosophy and religion, including the rising contemporary science of parapsychology, had learned about the psyche. (p. 151) To me the sexual theory was just as occult, that is to say, just as unproven an hypothesis, as many other speculative views. As I saw it, a scientific truth was a hypothesis which might be adequate for the moment but was not to be preserved as an article of faith for all time.

Although I did not properly understand it then, I had observed in Freud teh eruption of unconscious religious factors. Evidently he wanted my aid in erecting a barrier against these threatening unconscious contents.

The impression this conversation made upon me added to my confusion; until then I had not considered sexuality as a precious and imperiled concept to which one must remain faithful. Sexuality evidently meant more to Freud than to other people. for him it was something ot be religiously observed. In the face of such deep convictions one generally becomes shy and reticent. After a few stammering attempts on my part, the conversation soon came to an end.

I was bewildered and embarrassed. I ahd the feeling that I had caught a glimpse of a new, unknown country from which swarms of new ideas flew to meet me. One thing was clear: Freud, who had always made much of his irreligiosity, had now constructed a dogma; or rather, in the place of a jealous God whom he had lost, he had substituted another compelling image, that of sexuality. It was no less insistent, exacting, domineering, threatening, and morally ambivalent than teh original one. Just ass the psychically stronger agnecy is given “divine” or “daemonic” attributes, so the “sexual libido” took over the role of a deus absconditus, a hidden or concealed god. The advantage of this transformation for Freud was, apparently, that he was able to regard the new numinous principle as scientifically irreproachable and free from all religious taint. At bottom, however, the numinosity, that is, the psychological qualities of the two rationally incommensurable opposites–Yahweh and sexuality–remained the same. The name alone had changed, and with it, or course, the point of view: the lost god had now to be sought below, not above. But what difference does it make, ultimately, to the stronger agency. if is called now by one name and now by another? (p. 152) If psychology did not exist, but only concrete objects, the one would actually have been destroyed and replaced by the other. But in reality, that is to say, in psychological experience, there is not one whit the less of urgency, anxiety, compulsiveness, etc. The problem still remains: how to overcome or escape our anxiety, bad conscience, guilt, compulsion, unconsciousness, and instinctuality. If we cannot do this from the bright, idealistic side, then perhaps we shall have better luck by approaching the problem from the dark biological side.

[Jung discusses Freud in terms of power, sexuality and spirituality. He saw Freud’s psychology as] an adroit move on the part of intellectual history, compensating for Nietzsche’s deification of the power principle. So the problem was less “Freud versus Adler” and more “Freud vs. Nietsche.”  [More like]the power drive positive and negative electrical patiens, charge, Eros as a agens, and vice versa. Eros makes just as great demands upon the power drive as the power drive does on Eros. Where is the one drive without the other? One the one hand man succumbs to the drive, on the other hand, he tries to master it. Freud shows how the object succumbs to the drive, and Adler how man uses the drive in order to force his will upon the object.

Wherever the psyche is set violently oscillating by a numinous experience, there is a danger that the thread by which one hands may be torn. should that happen, one man tumbles into an absolute affirmation, another into an equally absolute negation. Nirdvandva (freedom from opposites) is the Orient’s remedy for this. I have not forgotten that. (The Buddhist middle path?) The pendulum of the mind oscillates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong. The numinosum is dangerous because it lures men to extremes, so that a modest truth is regarded as the truth and a minor mistake is equated with fatal error. Tout passe yesterdays truth is today’s deception, and yesterdays false inference may be tomorrow’s revelation. This is particularly so in psychological matters, of which, if truth were told, we still know very little. We are still a long way from understanding what it signifies that nothing has any existence unless some small–and oh, so transitory–consciousness has become aware of it.

(p. 154-155) A mythological situation had arisen: the struggle between light and darkness. That explains its numinosity, and why Freud immediately fee back on his dogma as a religious means of defense. In my next book, Transformation and Symbols of libido which dealt with the hero’s struggle for freedom, Freud’s curious reaction prompted me to investigate further this archetypal them and its mythological background.

What with the sexual interpretation on the one hand and the power drive of dogma on the other I was led, over the years, to a consideration of the problem of typology. It was necessary to study the polarity and dynamics of the psyche. And I also embarked upon an investigation extending over several decades of “the black tide of mud of occultism”–that is to say, I tried to understand the conscious and unconscious historical assumptions underlying our contemporary psychology.

It interested me to hear Freud’s views on precognition and on parapsychology in general. When I visited him in Vienna in 1909 I asked him what he thought of these matters. Because of his materialistic prejudice, he rejected this entire complex of questions as nonsensical, and did so in terms of so shallow a positivism that I had difficulty in checking the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue. It was some years before he recognized the seriousness of parapsychology and acknowledged the factuality of “occult” phenomena.

[pp. 156 – 157 Freud’s agenda was to attach an importance on Jung which Jung didn’t share. Freud’s obsession with sex had religious flavor to it. Freud seemed to need to embroil Jung into his psychic drama around fantasies of fratricide. Apparently Freud fainted during a discussion around mummification and Ikhnaton’s imposing one goddness on his father’s tomb. – Freud often made allusions toward Jung being his successor.] I was no means charmed by the thought of being burdened virtually over my own head, with the leadership of a party. In the first place that sort of thing was not in my nature; in the second place I could not sacrifice my intellectual independence; and in the third place such luster was highly unwelcome to me since it would only deflect me from my real aims. I was concerned with investigating truth, not with questions of personal prestige. [Freud clearly didn’t understand Jung at all.]

[The final blow of their relationship happened during a seven week trip they took to the United States. They spent some of the time interpreting each others dreams. Jung interpreted it as best he could but said he could do more if Freud could supply more information about his private life.]

Freud’s response to these words was a curious look–a look of the utmost suspicion. Then he said, “But I cannot risk my authority!” at That moment he lost it altogether. That sentence burned itself into my memory; and in it the end of our relationship was already foreshadowed. Freud was placing personal authority above truth.

[Power – did this have something to do with his father-issues? Freud (as many psychotherapists) transferred personal issues on his environment. Perhaps I’m doing the same thing?  In Freud’s case, he wasn’t very good at interpreting Jung’s dreams since they had a great deal of collective contents, containing a great deal of symbolic material.]

One was important to me for ti led me for the first time tot he concept of the “Collective unconcious” and thus formed a kind of prelude to my book, Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido.” 

This was the dream. I was in a house I did not know, which had two stories. It was “my house.” I found myself on the upper story, where there was a kind of salon furnished with fine old piece in rococo style. On teh walls hung a number of precious old paintings. I wondered that this should be my house, and thought, “Not bad.” But then it occurred to me that I did not know what the lower floor looked like. Descending the stairs, I reached the ground floor

There everything was much older, and I realized that this part of the house must date from about the fifteenth or sixteenth century. The furnishings were medieval; the floors were of red brick. Everywhere it was rather dark. I went from one room to another, thinking, “now I really must explore the whole house.” I came upon a heavy door, and opened it. Beyond it, I discovered a stone stairway that led down into the cellar. Descending again, I found myself in a beautifully vaulted room which looked exceedingly ancient. Examining the walls, I discovered layers of brick among the ordinary stone blocks, and chips of rick in the mortar. As soon as I saw this I knew that the walls were dated from Roman times. My interest by now was intense. I looked more closely at the floor. It was of stone slabs and in one of these I discovered a ring. When I pulled it, the stone slab lifted, and again I saw a stairway of narrow stone steps leading down into the depths. These too, I descended, and entered a low cave cut into the rock. Thick dust lay on the floor, and in the dust were scattered bones and broken pottery, like remains of a primitive culture. I discovered two human skulls, obviously very old and half disintegrated. Then I awoke.

6 CONFRONTATION WITH THE UNCONSCIOUS

Wednesday, June 15th, 2016

DEVELOPMENT OF THE ARCHETYPE

[p.170 Jung was predictably disoriented but untethered after breaking from Freud. As he felt his way through a new psychotherapeutic approach, he did not impose any theoretical applications to their exchanges] but to wait and see what they would say on their own accord. My aim became to leave things to chance. The result was that the patients would spontaneously report their dreams and fantasies to me, and I would merely ask, “what occurs to you in connection with that?” or “How do you mean that, where does that come from, what do you think about it?” The interpretations seemed to follow of their own accord from the patients’ replies and associations. I avoided all theoretical points of view and simply helped the patients to understand the dream-images by themselves, without application of rules and theories.

(p. 171) Soon I realized that it was right to take the dreams in this way as the basis of interpretation, for that is how dreams are intended. …Naturally, the aspects resulting from this method were so multitudinous that the need for a criterion grew more and more pressing–the need, I might almost put it, for some initial orientation.

…I experienced a moment of unusual clarity in which I looked back over the way I had traveled so far. I thought, “Now you possess a key to mythology and are free to unlock all the gates of the unconscious psyche.” But then something whispered within me, “Why open all gates?” The question arose of what I had accomplished. I had explained the myths of peoples of the past; I had written a book about the hero, the myth in which man has always lived. But in what myth does man live nowadays? [How much do we here in Coven Babylon live in the Christian myth]… then what is your myth–the myth in which you do live?”…

[He had a dream Christmas of 1912 where he found himself in a] magnificent Italian loggia with pillars, a marble floor, and a marble balustrade. I was sitting on a gold Renaissance chair; in front of me was a table of rare beauty. It was made of green stone, like emerald, There I sat, looking out into the distance, for the loggia was set high up on the tower of a castle. My children were sitting at the table too.

Suddenly a white bird descended, a small sea gull or a dove. Gracefully, it came to rest on the table, and I signed to the children to be still so that they would not frighten away the pretty white bird. Immediately, the dove was transformed into a little girl, about eight years of age, with golden blond hair. She ran off with the children and played with them among the colonnades of the castle.

I remained lost in thought, musing about what I had just (P. 172) experienced. The little girl returned and tenderly placed her arms around my neck. Then she suddenly vanished; the dove was back and spoke slowly in a human voice. “Only in the first hours of the night can I transform myself into a human being, while the male dove is busy with the twelve dead.” Then she flew off into the blue air, and I awoke.

[The emerald table – the story of Tabula Smaragdina: the emerald table in the alchemical legend of Hermes Trismegistos. He was said to have left behind a table upon which the basic tenants of alchemical wisdom was engraved in Greek. 12 undead? the apostles? the zodiac? 12 months of the year? another dead end.  could say there was unusual activity with the conscious. Is there a  process to reach it? He freely used his fantasy for this dream. Something dead, but still alive like corpses placed in crematory ovens, but discovered to be still living. – new dream after the fantasy.]

I was in a region like the Alyscamps near Arles. There they have a lane of sarcophagi which go back to Merovingian times. In the dream I was coming from the city, and saw before me a similar lane with a long row of tombs. They were pedestals with stone slabs on which the dead lay. They reminded me of old church burial vaults, where knights in armor lie outstretched. Thus the dead lay in my dream, in their antique clothes, with hands clasped, the difference being that they were not hewn out of stone, but in a curious fashion mummified. I stood still in front of the first grave and looked at the dead man, who was a person of the eighteen-thirties. I looked a his clothes with interest, whereupon he suddenly moved and came to life.

(p. 173) He unclasped his hands; but that was only because I was looking at him. I had an extremely unpleasant feeling, but walked on and came to another body. he belonged to the eighteenth century. There exactly the same thing happened; when I looked at him, he came to life and moved his hands. So I went down the whole row, until I came to the twelfth century–that is, to a crusader in chain mail who lay there was clasped hands. His figure seemed carved out of wood. For a long time I looked at him and thought he was really dead. But suddenly I saw that a finger of his left hand was beginning to stir gently.

Of course I had originally held to Freud’s view that vestiges of old experiences exist in the unconscious. But dreams like this, and my actual experiences of the unconscious, taught me that such contents are not dead — outmoded forms, but belong to our living being. My work had confirmed this assumption, and in course of years there developed from it the theory of archetypes.

[Dreams did not resolve his disorientation and inner pressure. He found nothing after thorough introspection of his life and concluded he simply didn’t know what the issue was – so, he “submitted” to his unconscious and came up with memories of himself at 11 transitioning from an avid obsession with building blocks to building with stone and mortar.

p. 174 Found there was life in that little boy though lost now that he was a man. He needed to reaccess that part of him but how? well, to be a grown man who might again play childish games – this was a turning point of his life. He began collecting stones, building villages and such, but needed a church – which he constructed as a little square building with a domed roof. He couldn’t find a proper altar until he was at the beach and found a fragment of red rock which had been shaped into a little inch high pyramid by the water. Believing in this altar, he connected the experience with his dream of the great god Phallus on the golden throne when he was a little boy; the result being deep satisfaction… He continued this building (playing) systematically, letting his mind wander through his unconscious throughout the day when he wasn’t seeing patients. Eventually his thoughts clarified and he was able to begin to grasp the fantasies whose presence was in himself. Through these buildings he was discovering that he was building his little town like it was a rite. He knew this was the process he needed to discover his own myth and has used creative processes to push through blank walls.

p. 175 – 176 prescient dream images warning WWI]

p. 177 … there was a demonic strength in me, and from the beginning there was no doubt in my mind that I must find the meaning of what I was experiencing in these fantasies. When I endured these assaults of the unconscious I had an unswerving conviction that I was obeying a higher will, and that feeling continued to uphold me until I had mastered the task.

I was frequently so wrought up that I had to do certain yoga exercises in order to hold my emotions in check. But since it was my purpose to know what was going on within myself, I would do these exercises only until I had calmed myself enough to resume my work with the unconscious. As soon as I had the feeling that I was myself again, I abandoned this restraint upon the emotions and allowed the images and inner voices to speak afresh. The Indian, on the other hand, does yoga exercises in order to obliterate completely the multitude of psychic contents and images.

To the extent that I managed to translate the emotions into images–that is to say, to find the images which were concealed in the emotions–I was inwardly calmed and reassured. Had I left those images hidden in the emotions, I might have been torn to pieces by them. There is a chance that I might have succeeded in splitting them off; but in that case I would inexorably have fallen into a neurosis and so been ultimately destroyed by them anyhow. As a result of my experiment I learned how helpful it can be, from the therapeutic point of view, to find  particular images which lie behind emotions.

pp.177-178 I wrote down the fantasies as well as I could, and made an earnest effort to analyze the psychic conditions under which they had arisen. But I was able to do this only in clumsy language.  First I formulated the things as I had observed them, usually in “high-flown language,” for that corresponds to the style of archetypes. Archetypes speak the language of high rhetoric, even of bombast. It is a style I find embarrassing, it grates on my nerves, as when someone draws his nails down a plaster wall, or scrapes his knife against a plate. But since I did not know what was going on, I had no choice but to write everything down in the style selected by the unconscious itself. Sometimes it was as if I were hearing it with my ears, sometimes feeling it with my mouth, as if my tongue were formulating words; now and then I heard myself whispering aloud. Below the threshold of consciousness everything was seething with life.

From the beginning I had conceived my voluntary confrontation with the unconscious as a scientific experiment which I myself was conducting and in whose outcome I was vitally interested. Today I might equally well say that it was an experiment which was being conducted on me. One of the greatest difficulties for me lay in dealing with my negative feelings. I was voluntarily submitting myself to emotions of which I could not really approve, and I was writing down fantasies which often struck me as nonsense, and toward which I had strong resistances. For as long as we do not understand their meaning, such fantasies are a diabolical mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous. It cost me a great deal to undergo them, but I had been challenged by fate.  Only by extreme effort was i finally able to escape from the labyrinth.

In order to grasp the fantasies which were stirring in me “underground,” I knew that I had to let myself plummet down into them as it were. I felt not only violent resistance to this, but a distinct fear. For I was afraid of losing command of myself and becoming a prey to the fantasies–and as a psychiatrist I realized only too well what that meant. After prolonged hesitation, however, I saw that there was no other way out. I had to take the chance, had to try to gain power over them; for I realized that if I did not do so, I ran the risk of their gaining power over me. A cogent motive for my making the attempt was the conviction that I could not expect of my patients something I did not dare to do myself.

p. 179 December 12, 1913, I resolved upon the decisive step. I was sitting at my desk once more, thinking over my fears. Then I let myself drop. Suddenly it was as though the ground literally gave way beneath my feet, and I plunged down into dark depths. [Panic. Landed on feet in soft, sticky mass.  Complete darkness. After sight adjustment in gloom — more like deep twilight. Before him, entrance to a dark cave, in which stood a dwarf with a leathery skin, like mummified. Squeezed past him through the narrow entrance] and waded knee deep through icy water to the other end of the cave, where on a projecting rock, I saw a glowing red crystal. I grasped the stone, lifted it, and discovered a hollow underneath. At first I could make out nothing, but then I saw that there was running water. In it a corpse floated y, a youth with blond hair and a wound in the head. He was followed by a gigantic black scarab and then by a red, newborn sun, rising up out of the depths of the water. Dazzled by the light, I wanted to replace the stone upon the opening, but then a fluid welled out. I was blood. A thick jet of it leaped up, and I felt nauseated. It seemed to me taht the blood continued to squirt for an unenduraly long time. At last it ceased and the vision came to an end.

I was stunned by this vision. I realized, of course, that it was a hero and solar myth, a drama of death and renewal, the rebirth symbolized by the Egyptian scarab. At the end, the dawn of the new day should have followed, but instead came that intolerable outpouring of blood-an altogether abnormal phenomenon, so it seemed to me But then I recalled the vision of blood that I had had in the autumn of that same year, and I abandoned all further attempt to understand.

[p. 180 Dream 6 days later:] I was with an unknown, brown-skinned man, a savage, in a lonely, rocky mountain landscape. It was before dawn; the eastern sky was already bright, and the stars fading. Then I heard Siegfried’s horn sounding over the mountains and I know that we had to kill him. … Then Siegfried appeared high up on the crest of the mountain, in the first ray of the rising sun. On a chariot made of ht e bones of tee dead he drove at furious speed down the precipitous slope. When he turned a corner, we shot at him, and he plunged down, struck dead.

Filled with disgust and remorse for having destroyed something so great and beautiful, I turned to flee, impelled by the fear that the murder might be discovered. But a tremendous downfall of rain began, and I knew that it would wipe out all traces of the dead. I had escaped the danger of discovery; life could go on, but an unbearable feeling of guilt remained.

When I awoke from the dream, I turned it over in my mind, but was unable to understand it. I tried therefore to fall asleep again, but a voice within me said, “You must understand the dream, and must do so ta once!” The inner urgency mounted until the terrible moment came when the voice said, “If you do not understand the dream, you must shoot yourself!” In the drawer of my night table lay a loaded revolver, and I became frightened. Then I began pondering once again, and suddenly the meaning of the dream dawned on me. “Why, that is the problem that is being played out in the world.” Siegfried, I thought, represents what the Germans want to achieve, heroically to impose their will have their own way. “Where there is a will there is a way!” I had wanted to do the same. But now that was no longer possible. The dream showed that the attitude was no longer possible. The dream showed that the attitude embodied by Siegfried, the hero, no longer suited me. Therefore it had to be killed.

After the deed I felt an overpowering compassion, as though I myself had been shot: a sign of my secret identity with Siegfried, as well as the grief a man feels when he is forced to sacrifice his ideal and his conscious attitudes. This identity and my heroic idealism had to be abandoned, for there are higher things than the ego’s will, and to these one must bow.

p. 181 The small, brown-skinned savage who accompanied me and had actually taken the initiative in the killing was an embodiment of the primitive shadow. The rain showed that the tension between consciousness and the unconscious was being resolved. Although at the time I was not able to understand the meaning of the dream beyond these few hints, new forces were released in me which helped me to carry the experiment with the unconscious to a conclusion.

In order to seize hold of the fantasies, I frequently imagined a steep descent. I even made several attempts to get to very bottom. The first time I reached, as it were, a depth of about a thousand feet, the next time I found myself at the edge of a cosmic abyss. It was like a voyage to the moon, or a descent into empty space. First came the image of a crater, and I had the feeling that I was in the land of the dead. The atmosphere was that of the other world. Near the steep slope of a rock I caught sight of two figures, an old man with a white beard and a beautiful young girl. I summoned up my courage and approached them as though they were real people, and listened attentively to what they told me. The old man explained that he was Elijah, and that gave me a shock. But the girl staggered me even more, for she called herself Salome! She was blind. What a strange couple. Salome and Elijah. But Elijah assured me that he and Salome had belonged together from all eternity, which completely astounded me….They had a black serpent living with them which displayed an unmistakable fondness for me. I stuck close to Elijah because he seemed to be the most reasonable of the three, and to have a clear intelligence. Of Salome I was distinctly suspicious. Elijah and I had a long conversation which, however, I did not understand.

p. 182 … In such dream wanderings one frequently encounters an old man who is accompanied by a young girl, and examples of such couples are to be found in many mythic tales. Thus, according to Gnostic tradition, Simon Magus went about with a young girl whom he had picked up at a brothel. Her name was Helen, and she was regarded as the reincarnation of the Trojan Helen. Klingsor and Kundry, Lao-Tzu and the dancing girl, likewise belong to this category. [the two below Backstory for my Sci-Fi novel in my comments ;)]

I have mentioned that there was a third figure in my fantasy besides Elijah and Salome: the large black snake. [Ah here we go – the fourth of their foursome]. In myths the snake is a frequent counterpart of the hero [The four]. There are numerous accounts of their affinity. For example, the hero has eyes like a snake, or after his death he is changed into a snake and revered as such, or the snake is his mother, etc. In my fantasy, therefore, the presence of the snake was an indication of the hero-myth.

Salome [the two] is an anima figure. She is blind because she does not see the meaning of things [Ah so this means that the two archetype is not interested in deep and critical thinking. perhaps they are single focused on just being the battery for the group and collecting energy]. Elijah is the figure of the wise old prophet [the three] and represents the factor of intelligence and knowledge [He was the Enki in Sumerian legend], Salome, the erotic element. One might say that the two figures are personifications of Logos and Eros. But such a definition would be excessively intellectual [not if it’s part of a science-fiction novel]. …

Soon after this fantasy another figure rose out of the unconscious. He developed out of the Elijah figure. I called him Philemon [THERE’S his four]. Philemon was a pagan and brought with him an Egypto-Hellenistic atmosphere with a Gnostic coloration. His figure first appeared to me in the following dream:

There was a blue sky, like the sea, covered not by clouds but by flat brown clods of earth. It looked as if the clods were breaking apart and the blue water of the sea were becoming visible between them. But the water was the blue sky. Suddenly there appeared from the right a winged being sailing across the sky.

P. 183 I saw that it was an old man with the horns of a bull. He held a bunch of four keys (there’s the four :D) one of which he clutched as if he were about to open a lock. He had the wings of the kingfisher with its characteristic colors.

Since I did not understand this dream-image, I painted it in order to impress it upon my memory. During the days when I was occupied with the painting, I found in my garden, by the lake shore, a dead kingfisher! I was thunderstruck, for kingfishers are quite rare in the vicinity of Zurich and I have never since found a dead kingfisher. The body was recently dead–at the most, two or three days–and showed no external injuries.

Philemon and other figures of my fantasies brought home to me the crucial insight that there are things in the psyche which I do not produce, but which produce themselves and have their own life. [Important plot device. – Philemon is the “four” part of Jung’s First Born Group and was interacting with his mortal paired partner – waiting for him to transcend.] Philemon represented a force with was not myself. In my fantasies I held conversations with him, and he said things which I had not consciously thought. For I observed clearly that it was he who spoke, not I. He said I treated thoughts as if I generated them myself, [He tried telling Jung] but in his view thoughts were like animals in the forest, or people in a room, or birds in the air, and added, “If you should see people in a room, you would not think that you had made those people, or that you were responsible for them.” It was he that taught me psychic objectivity, the reality of the psyche. Through him the distinction was clarified between myself and the object of my thought. He confronted me in an objective manner (as transcendants will ;)) and I understood that there is something in me which can say things that I do not know and do not intend, things which may even be directed against me.

Psychologically, Philemon represented superior insight. He was a mysterious figure to me. At times he seemed to me quite real, as if he were a living personality. I went walking up and down the garden with him, and to me he was what the Indians call a guru.

p. 184 Whenever the outlines of a new personification appeared, I felt it almost as a personal defeat. It meant: “Here is something else you didn’t know until now!” Fear crept over me that the succession of such figures might be endless [I guess these Ones are pretty fearful], that I might lose myself in bottomless abysses of ignorance. My ego felt devalued–although the successes I had been having in worldly affairs might have reassured me. In my darknesses … I could have wished for nothing better than a real, live guru, someone possessing superior knowledge and ability [An alien Transcended? wow] who would have disentangled for me the involuntary creations of my imagination. This task was undertaken by the figure Philemon, whom in this respect I had willy-nilly to recognize as my psychagogue. And the fact was that he conveyed to me many an illuminating idea.

More than 15 years later a highly cultivated elderly Indian visited me, a friend of Gandhi’s, and we talked about Indian education–in particular, about the relationship between guru and chela. I hesitantly asked him whether he could tell me anything about the person and character of his own guru, whereupon he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “Oh yes, he waas Shankaracharya.”

“You don’t mean the commentator on the Vedas who dies centuries ago?” I asked.

“Yes, I mean him,” he said, to my amazement.

“Then you are referring to a spirit?” I asked.

“Of course it was his spirit,” he agreed.

At that moment I thought of Philemon.

“There are ghostly gurus too,” he added. “Most people have living gurus. But there are always some who have a spirit for Teacher.” [Sure if you’re an alien First Born, not knowing you’re First Born and your transcended partner is contacting you and teaching all kinds of cool stuff.]

This information was both illuminating and reassuring to me. Evidently, then, I had not plummeted right out of the human world, but had only experienced the sort of thing that could happen to others who made similar efforts.

Later, Philemon became relativized by the emergence of yet another figure, whom I called Ka. In ancient Egypt the “king’s ka” was his earthly form, the embodied soul. In my fantasy the ka-soul came from below, out of the earth as if out of a deep shaft. I did a painting of him, showing him in his earth-bound form, as a herm with base of stone and upper part of bronze.

p. 185 High up in the painting appears a kingfisher’s wing, and between it and the head of Ka floats a round, glowing nebula of stars. Ka’s expression has something demonic about it–one might also say, Mephistophelian. In one hand he holds something like a colored pagoda, or a reliquary, and in the other a stylus with which he is working on the reliquary. He is saying, “I am he who buries the gods in gold and gems.”

Philemon had a lame foot, (Hephestis) but was a winged spirit, whereas Ka represented a kind of earth demon or metal demon. Philemon was the spiritual aspect of “meaning.” Ka, on the other hand, was a spirit of nature like the Antroparion of Greek alchemy–with which at the time I was still unfamiliar.” Ka was he who made everything real, but who also obscured the haleyon spirit, Meaning, or replaced it by beauty, the “eternal reflection.”

In time I was able to integrate both figures through the study of alchemy.

When I was writing down these fantasies, I once asked myself, “What am I really doing? Certainly this has nothing to do with science. But then what is it?” Whereupon a voice within me said, “It is art.” I was astonished. I had never entered my head that what I was writing had any connection with art. Then I thought, “Perhaps my unconscious is forming a personality that is not me, but which is insisting on coming through to expression.” I knew for a certainty that the voice had come from a woman. I recognized it as the voice of a patient, a talented psychopath who had a strong transference to me. She had become a living figure within my mind.

[p. 186-189 The appearance and meticulous study of Jung’s animae discussing difference between art and science. He found ways to separate his conscious from his unconscious feminine! He also testified his gratitude for his career as a doctor and his wife and 5 children for his sanity. As he explored his subconscious, the chaos might have engulfed him]. (the end of 189) Thus my family and my profession always remained a joyful reality and a guarantee that I also had a normal existence.]

P. 188 [IMPORTANT] I wrote these fantasies down first in the Black Book [fantasies being his insights]; later I transferred them to the Red Book, which I also embellished with drawings. It contains most of my mandala drawings. In the Red Book I tried an esthetic elaboration of my fantasies, but never finished it. I became aware that I had not yet found the right language, that I still had to translate it into something else. Therefore I gave up this estheticizing tendency in good time, in favor of a rigorous process of understanding. I saw that so much fantasy needed firm ground underfoot, and that I must first return to reality. For me, reality meant scientific comprehension. I had to draw concrete conclusions from the insights the unconscious had given me–and that task was to become a life work. [His spiritual journey] 

 [He says] It is of course ironical that I, a psychiatrist, should at almost every step of my experiment have run into the same psychic material which is the stuff of psychosis and is found in the insane. This is the fund of unconscious images which fatally confuse the mental patient. But it is also the matrix of a mythopoeic imagination which ahs vanished from our rational age. Though such imagination is present everywhere, it is both tabooed and dreaded, so that it even appears to be a risky experiment or a questionable adventure to entrust oneself to the uncertain path that leads into the depths of the unconscious. It is considered the path of error, or equivocation and misunderstanding. I am reminded of Goethe’s words: “Now let me dare to open wide the gate/Past which men’s steps have ever flinching trod.”

p. 189 (separation from paragraph for emphasis) The second part of Faust, too, was more than a literary exercise. It is a link in the Aurea Catena which has existed from the beginnings of philosophical alchemy and Gnosticism down to Nietzsche’s Zarathustra. Unpopular, ambiguous, and dangerous, it is a voyage of discovery to the other pole of the world.

p. 190 -191 Very gradually the outlines of an inner change began making their appearance within me. In 1916 I felt an urge to give shape to something I was compelled from within, as it were, to formulate and express what might have been said by Philemon (his 4) [the reason he didn’t know what was going on was because he was the support. the darts would have known, but he is the surrogate for the 3 dart you understand, so the 3 may not have felt it important to tell his support the mission;)] This was how the Septem Sermones ad Mortuos with its peculiar language came into being.

…The atmosphere was thick, believe me! Then I knew that something had to happen. The whole house was filled as if there were a crowd present, crammed full of spirits. They were packed deep right up to the door, and the air was so thick it was scarcely possible to breathe. As for myself, I was all a-quiver with the question: “For God’s sake, what in the world is this?” Then they cried out in chorus, “We have come back from  Jerusalem where we found not what we sought.” That is the beginning of the Septem Sermones.

Then it began to flow out of me, and in the course of three evenings the thing was written. As soon as I took up the pen, the whole ghostly assemblage evaporated. The room quieted and the atmosphere cleared. The haunting was over.

[p. 191 He dreamed his soul got away from him and this is significant] the soul, the anima, establishes the relationship to the unconscious. In a certain sense this is also a relationship to the collectivity of the dead; for the unconscious corresponds to the conscious. In a certain sense this is also a relationship to the mythic land of the dead, the land of the ancestors. If, therefore, one has a fantasy of the soul vanishing, this means that it has withdrawn into the unconscious or into the land of the dead. There it produces a mysterious animation and gives visible form to the ancestral traces, the collective contents. Like a medium it gives the dead a chance to manifest themselves. Therefore soon after the disappearance of my soul the “dead” appeared to me, and the result was the Septem Sermones. This is an example of what is called “loss of the soul” — a phenomenon encountered quite frequently among primitives… From that time on, the dead have become ever more distinct for me as the voices of the Unanswered, Unresolved, and Unredeemed; for since the questions and demands which my destiny required me to answer did not come to me from outside, they must have come from the inner world. These conversations with the dead formed a kind of prelude to what I had to communicate to the world about the unconscious; a kind of pattern of order and interpretation of its general contents.

[p. 193 Interesting. He quit his job in the university where he’d been for about 7 years. He blames his work and experimentation on the unconscious which stilled his intellectual work. He found it impossible to read a scientific book for 3 years! The stuff coming up from the unconscious struck him dumb. he could neither understand it or give it form. Until he was done with experimenting in confronting the unconscious he could not appear before the public.

p. 194. continues to feel misunderstood since he can’t explain any of these experiences though he does finally resolve as later he sees the interaction between the two worlds. As long as he saw this exchange as an irreconcilable contradiction between what happened as he focused outward or inward. But he had to somehow prove to the outside world that these psychic experiences were real not only to himself but to others as well. It was a matter of showing the world a different way of seeing — problem with right and left brain cognitive processes.]

p. 195 Painted his first mandala in 1916 and understood them in 1918-1919 as his daily mandalas helped him see his psychic transformations. There was a woman who was trying to convince him his work with the unconscious had artistic value. He didn’t believe it. He was still struggling with whether or not these fantasies which he felt were utilitarian being spontaneous and natural and not realistically his own “arbitrary invention.”

p. 196 [If all goes well, and the self is experiencing wholeness, then the mandala was symmetrical. But if self delusional the mandala was unbalanced.] …to be sure, at first I could only dimly understand them; but they seemed to me highly significant, and I guarded them like precious pearls. I had the distinct feeling that they were something central, and in time I acquired through them a living conception of the self. The self, I thought, was like the monad which I am, and which is my world [and which is the nature of every First Born Group. This mandala represents this monad, and corresponds to the microcosmic nature of the psyche.

p. 197 Uniform development exits, at most, only at the beginning; later, everything points toward the center. This insight gave me stability, and gradually my inner peace returned. I knew that in finding the mandala as an expression of the self, I had attained what was for me the ultimate. Perhaps someone else knows more, but not I.

Some years later (in 1927) I obtained confirmation of my ideas about the center and the self by way of a dream. I represented its essence in a mandala which I called “Window on Eternity.” The picture is reproduced in The Secret of the Golden Flower (Fig. 3). A year later I painted a second picture, likewise a mandala, within a golden castle in the center. When it was finished, I asked myself, “Why is this so Chinese?” I was impressed by the form and choice of colors, which seemed to me Chinese, although there was nothing outwardly Chinese about it. Yet that was how it affected me. It was a strange coincidence that shortly afterward I received a letter from Richard Wilhelm enclosing the manuscript of a Taoist-Alchemical treatise entitled The Secret of the Garden Flower, with a request that I write a commentary on it. I devoured the manuscript at once, for the text gave me undreamed of confirmation of myt ideas about the mandala and the circumambulation of the center. That was the first event which broke through my isolation. I became aware of an affinity; I could establish ties with something and someone.

P. 198 [The dream he talks about on p. 198 gave him finality so he didn’t need to do mandalas anymore – bottom].  This dream brought with it a sense of finality. I saw that here the goal had been revealed. One could not go beyond the center. The center IS the goal, and everything is directed toward that center.

p. 199 …After this dream I gave up drawing or painting mandalas. The dream depicted the climax of the whole process of development of consciousness. It satisfied me completely, for it gave a total picture of my situation. I had known, to be sure, that I was standing, and there had been no one among my associates who could have understood. The clarification brought about by the dream made it possible for me to take an objective view of the things that filled my being.

…The years when I was pursuing my inner images were the most important in my life-

7 THE WORK (ALCHEMY FOR THE AGES)

Tuesday, June 14th, 2016

According to Carl Jung, each of us have a portal to the collective unconscious. Conscious exploration of memories only takes us so far in establishing a healthy mind.

It is a part of our minds (is it a brain function or even a genetic predilection?) so it seems possible our human bodies are conduits for accessing that which resides in the collective unconscious…right?

Part of its function is an organic data base where all information is stored. Perhaps this is what some call Akashic Records. I believe this is one thing we (as a coven) can explore.

In Chapter VI of Memories, Dreams and Reflections, he states the first step is into our imaginations. There are exercises for those that have a harder time getting through this step in coloring or creating mandalas or any other creative process.

When we get lost in a creative project, we are moving through our imaginations into our psychic selves. Our “psychism” (it seems) is a doorway to the collective unconscious.

I think the collective unconscious might be a means to other dimensions. I believe we are uniquely created to connect and communicate with dimensional intelligence (read Born to Believe by Andrew Newberg, MD).

In Chapter VII, of MDR, Jung attempted to verify his findings and found interesting commonalities with Medieval Alchemy and then even farther with the early Christian Gnostics.

Alchemy established Jung’s link to Goethe for an example of an “archetypal transformation” while Goethe was writing Faust. For Goethe, Faust was his opus magnum or divinum – his main business. Goethe’s whole life was enacted in this drama. “What was active with him (Goethe) was a living substance – a supranatural process process — the great dream of the mundus archetypus the archetypal world ” (MDR, p. 206).

Though an incredibly significant process, I believe this “archetypal transformation” is where much confusion lies between Jungian Psychologists studying human symbolism and a mystic who might see this process separate from Jung’s Philemon.

Jung had one goal – to penetrate into the secret of the personality. And our work is to find out within ourselves why our personalities are so important to our spiritual health and well-being.

Jung began with an intense preoccupation with the images of his unconscious and a stream of images (4 years in his magick mountain [a shaman’s death?]).

What does one do with the unconscious?
***The Relations between the Ego and the Unconscious
There are contents within the unconscious (Jung’s lecture in 1916)
The attitude the conscious mind takes toward the contents of the unconscious is important.

Psychological types limits and determines a person’s judgment.
The ego is how the individual interacts with the world, people and things.
Points of view are relative. There’s a unity that compensates for this great diversity – Answer in the Chinese Tao.

***Explore Prometheus and Epinetheus.
*** The classical era of the Middle Ages.

Libido: a psychic analogue of physical energy
Libido combined with hunger, aggression and sex are expressions of psychic energy. (p. 208)

Psychic energy, like energy defined in physics work with electricity, light, heat, etc. is a measure of intensity with greater of lesser quantities. Taking the libido in terms of energy we are sidestepping qualitative questions, and focus on discussing libido in terms of the theory of energetics. Man’s drives be seen as various manifestations of energic processes and thus as forces analogous to heat, light, etc. The modern physicist would not think all forces came simply from heat so a psychologist would not lump all instincts under sexuality.

***Jung discovered the unconscious undergoes or produces change through fantasies.

***Through alchemy, Jung discovered the unconscious is a PROCESS.
The psyche transforms or develops through its relationship between the ego (personality?) and the contents of the unconscious. Individually, the transformation can be read from dreams and fantasies.
In the collective life, it comes through religions and their changing symbols.

The study of these transformation processes and understanding Alchemical symbolism Jung arrived at the central concept of Analytical Psychology: The process of individuation.

***Paracelsus (Paracelsus as a Spiritual Phenomenon): Ones view of the world and the relations between psychology and religion.
The writings of Paracelsus contain a wealth of original ideas, including clear formulations of the questions posed by the alchemists. Jung’s years in his own “magick mountain” corresponded with to Paracelsus’ process of alchemical transformation. (thru a religious philosophy) (209)

The relationship of the symbolism of the unconscious to religions
Interesting Jung found Christianity had a message for Western Man, but only if seen within the perspective of the times, because otherwise it loses its effects.

***This is why I appreciate the ancients as they worked their religion around their science. Not the other way around. But then it could be argued the ancients weren’t western but had an Eastern mindset.

Jung connects Christianity with Zosimos, a 3d century alchemist & gnostic.

***note: The more serious alchemists realized that the purpose of their work was not the transmutation of base metals into gold, but the production of an aurum non vulgi (“not the common gold”) or aurum philosophicum (“philosophical gold”). In other words, they were concerned with spiritual values and the problem of psychic transformation. Aniela Jaffe note in MDR p. 210.

OK, connecting:
The Contents of the Unconscious relationship with the Ego.
Read Psychology and Alchemy; Spiritual Exercises by Ignatius Loyola

Jung’s Dream: “Bathed in bright light at the foot of my bed, the figure of Christ on the Cross. It was not quite life-size, but extremely distinct; and I saw that his body was made of greenish gold.”
Jung’s explanation: Green gold is the living quality which the alchemists saw not only in man but also in inorganic nature.
An expression of the life-spirit, the anima mundi or filus macrocosmi the Anthropos who animates the whole cosmos.

This spirit has poured himself into everything, even inorganic matter. (3d Paganism class)

***The emphasis on the metal is the undisguised alchemical conception of Christ as a union of spiritually alive and physically dead matter.

See Aion – relation of the Christ figure and psychology; the religious content Christianity developed over the centuries. was Christ and the various glosses he attracted astrologically predicted through the millennia.

Was there a historical Jesus? What was the collective mentality of his time? (Elaine Pagels?) The primordial image of the Anthropos that was constellated: the archetype which was already constellated whose roots lie in Jewish tradition and the Egyptian Horus myth. It did not include the sumerian mythos where the Jews originated because the Egyptian mythos had taken possession of the people as a sort of Zeitgeist.

***This was the image of the Son of Man standing up against Augustus Ceasar, the ruler of the known world. Made the Jewish messianic problem into a world issue. (interesting piece as these were the Christians that destroyed the Library at Alexandria – aforementioned aggression) In other words the collective unconsciousness of Western people of a whole people (symbolized in Jesus) robbed of their cultural independence of spiritual autonomy swallowed up (by the U.S. or institution) within the power of the techno-military-industrial complex. There is a wave of hope in an expectation of redemption in a “Christ.” UFOs are a typical child from a technical age of the 60s or the games thriving in our computer worldwide phenomenon.

The Question: (remember our ego’s relationship with the Unconscious) – how does psychology correspond with alchemy – or what special problems of psychotherapy treat the work of the alchemists?

***The key is with “transference” and the concept of coniunctio

***The Grail legend and alchemy.

*** ichthys symbol: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichthys

Job as a prefiguration of Christ.

Core of Christianity:
The idea of comparing the suffering Christ with Job, God’s suffering servant.
The sins of the world are the cause of suffering and the suffering of the Christian.

Job reflects the dark and light side of God. He expects God to stand by him against God (Abraxas?)

So then, who is responsible for for these sins? In the final analysis it is God who created the world and its sins, and who therefore became Christ in order to suffer the fate of humanity.

***Answer to Job (book): Religious problems of modern man. Think about David forsaking Uriah, David’s general married to Bathsheba.

***The Indian ambience of the illustrates the “other side.” (not by accident)

The divan-i-kaas‘ representation of content related to the center.
(Any chance this is the symbol for the content of the Collective Unconscious?) p. 219.

The center is the seat of Akbar the Great, ruler of a subcontinent and a Lord of the World like David. But Uriah is higher than David as a prefiguration of Christ. For Jung, this allusion to Uriah signified the necessity for him to speak publicly about the ambivalence of the God image in the Old Testament and his wife’s death.

Man’s consciousness of the world annihilates Creation in its essential aspect.

Buddha suggests the idea of world annihilation thru enlightenment the Nidana chain – the chain of causality which leads inevitably to old age, sickness, and death–can be broken, so that the illusion of Being comes to an end.

The Aion: How the appearance of Christ coincided with the beginning of the new aeon, the age of the Fishes. The objective astronomical event, Hammurabi was the entrance of the Ram while Jesus was the entrance of the spring equinox into the sign of Pisces.

The Christ problem in Aion: the phenomenon of the Anthropos (the self in psychological terms) is expressed in the experience of the individual. Concern with the interplay between the conscious and unconscious, with the development of consciousness from the unconscious;
the impact of the greater personality, the inner man, upon the life of every individual.

Mysterium Coniunctionis: the problem of the transference, primarily following Jung’s original intention of representing the whole range of alchemy as a kind of psychology of alchemy, or as an alchemical basis for depth psychology where Analytical Psychology is given its place in reality and established upon its historical foundation. He felt he reached the bounds of scientific understanding, “the transcendental, the nature of the archetype per se, concerning which no further scientific statements can be made.

His work [as are all missions] an expression of his inner development.; for commitment to the contents of the unconscious forms the man and produces his transformations. Work can be regarded as stations along life’s way (amen).

All his writings may be considered tasks imposed from within; their source was a fateful compulsion. People don’t want to see the counterweight to the conscious world.

Jung accomplished what he was “asked” to do. He completed his mission. (p. 222)

        
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