The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

That's French for "the ancient system," as in the ancient system of feudal privileges and the exercise of autocratic power over the peasants. The ancien regime never goes away, like vampires and dinosaur bones they are always hidden in the earth, exercising a mysterious influence. It is not paranoia to believe that the elites scheme against the common man. Inform yourself about their schemes here.

Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 2:58 am

Chapter 17: Nox quarta [215]

Cap. xvii

[HI 114] [216] 1 hear the roaring of the morning wind, which comes over the mountains. The night is overcome, when all my life was subject to eternal confusion and stretched out between the poles of fire.

My soul speaks to me in a bright voice: "The door should be lifted off its hinges to provide a free passage between here and there, between yes and no, between above and below, between left and right. Airy passages should be built between all opposed things, light smooth streets should lead from one pole to the other. Scales should be set up, whose pointer sways gently. A flame should burn that cannot be blown out by the wind. A stream should flow to its deepest goal. The herds of wild animals should move to their feeding grounds along their old game paths. Life should proceed, from birth to death, from death to birth, unbroken like the path of the sun. Everything should proceed on this path."

Thus speaks my soul. But I toy casually and terribly with myself. Is it day or night? Am I asleep or awake? Am I alive or have I already died?

Blind darkness besieges me -- a great wall -- a gray worm of twilight crawls along it. It has a round face and laughs. The laughter is convulsive and actually relieving. I open my eyes: the fat cook is standing before me: "You're a sound sleeper, I must say. You've slept for more than an hour."

I: "Really? Have I slept? I must have dreamed, what a dreadful play! Did I fall asleep in this kitchen? Is this really the realm of mothers?" [217]

"Have a glass of water, you're still thoroughly drowsy."

I: 'Yes, this sleep can make one drunk. Where is my Thomas? There it lies, open at the twenty-first chapter: "My soul, in everything and yet beyond everything, you must find your rest in the Lord, for he is the eternal rest of the saints." [218]

I read this sentence aloud. Is not every word followed by a question mark?

"If you fell asleep with this sentence, you must really have had a beautiful dream."

I: "I certainly dreamed, and I will think about the dream. Incidentally, can you tell me whose cook you are?"

"The librarian's. He loves good cooking and I have been with him for many years." / [114/116] [Image 115] [219] /

I: "Oh, I had no idea that the librarian had such a cook."

"Yes, you must know that he's a gourmet."

I: "Farewell, madam cook, and thank you for the accommodation."

"You are most welcome and the pleasure was entirely mine."

Now I am outside. So that was the librarian's cook. Does he really know what food is prepared inside? He has certainly never gone in there for a temple sleep. [220] I think that I'll return the Thomas a Kempis to him. I enter the library.

L: "Good evening, here you are again."

I: "Good evening, Sir, I've come to return the Thomas. I sat down for a bit in your kitchen next door to read, without suspecting that it's your kitchen."

L: "Please, there's no problem whatsoever. Hopefully my cook received you well."

I: "I can't complain about the reception. I even had an afternoon sleep over Thomas."

L: "That doesn't surprise me. These prayer books are terribly boring."

I: "Yes, for people like us. But your cook finds the little book very edifying."

L: "Well yes, for the cook."

I: "Allow me the indiscrete question: have you ever had an incubation sleep in your kitchen?"

L: "No, I've never entertained such a strange idea."

I: "Let me say that you'd learn a lot that way about the nature of your kitchen. Good night, Sir!"

After this conversation I left the library and went outside into the anteroom where I approached the green curtains. I pushed them aside, and what did I see? I saw a high-ceilinged hall before me -- with a supposedly magnificent garden in the background -- Klingsor's magical garden, it occurred to me at once. I had entered a theater; those two over there are part of the play: Amfortas and Kundry, or rather, just what am I looking at? It is the librarian and his cook. He is ailing and pale, and has a bad stomach, she is disappointed and furious. Klingsor is standing to the left, holding the feather the librarian used to tuck behind his ear. How closely Klingsor resembles me! What a repulsive play! But look, Parsifal enters from the left. How strange, he also looks like me. Klingsor venomously throws the feather at Parsifal. But the latter catches it calmly.

The scene changes: It appears that the audience, in this case me, joins in during the last act. One must kneel down as the Good Friday service begins: Parsifal enters -- slowly, his head covered with a black helmet. The lionskin of Hercules adorns his shoulders and he holds the club in his hand; he is also wearing modern black trousers in honor of the church holiday. I bristle and stretch out my hand avertingly, but the play goes on. Parsifal takes off his helmet. Yet there is no Gurnemanz to atone for and consecrate him. Kundry stands in the distance, covering her head and laughing. The audience is enraptured and recognizes itself in Parsifal. He is I. I take off my armor layered with history and my chimerical decoration and go to the spring wearing a white penitent's shirt, where I wash my feet and hands without the help of a stranger. Then I also take off my penitent's shirt and put on my civilian clothes. I walk out of the scene and approach myself -- I who am still kneeling down in prayer as the audience. I rise and become one with myself. [221]


[2] What would mockery be, if it were not true mockery? What would doubt be, if it were not true doubt? What would opposition be, it if were not true opposition? He who wants to accept himself must also really accept his other. But in the yes, not every no is true, and in the no, every yes is a lie. But since I can be in the yes today and in the no tomorrow, yes and no are both true and untrue. Whereas yes and no cannot yield because they exist, our concepts of truth and error can.

I presume you would like to have certainty with regard to truth and error? Certainty within one or the other is not only possible, but also necessary, although certainty in one is protection and resistance against the other. If you are in one, your certainty about the one excludes the other. But how can you then reach the other? And why can the one not be enough for us? One cannot be enough for us since the other is in us. And if we were content with one, the other would suffer great need and afflict us with its hunger. But we misunderstand this hunger and still believe that we are hungry for the one and strive for it even more adamantly.

Through this we cause the other in us to assert its demands on us even more strongly. If we are then ready to recognize the claim of the other in us, we can cross over into the other to satisfy it. But we can thus reach across, since the other has become conscious to us. Yet if our blinding through the one is strong, we become even more distant from the other, and a disastrous chasm between the one and the other opens up in us. The one becomes surfeited and the other becomes too hungry. The satiated grows lazy and the hungry grows weak. And so we suffocate in fat, consumed by lack.

This is sickness, but you see a lot of this type. It must be so, but it need not be so. There are grounds and causes enough that it is so, but we also want it not / [116/117] to be so. For man is afforded the freedom to overcome the cause, for he is creative in and of himself. If you have reached that freedom through the suffering of your spirit to accept the other despite your highest belief in the one, since you are it too, then your growth begins.

If others mock me, it is nevertheless them doing this, and I can attribute guilt to them for this, and forget to mock myself. But he who cannot mock himself will be mocked by others. So accept your self-mockery so that everything divine and heroic falls from you and you become completely human. What is divine and heroic in you is a mockery to the other in you. For the sake of the other in you, set off your admired role which you previously performed for your own self and become who you are.

He who has the luck and misfortune of a particular talent falls prey to believing that he is this gift. Hence he is also often its fool. A special gift is something outside of me. I am not the same as it. The nature of the gift has nothing to do with the nature of the man who carries it. It often even lives at the expense of the bearer's character. His character is marked by the disadvantage of his gift, indeed even through its opposite. Consequently he is never at the height of his gift but always beneath it. If he accepts his other he becomes capable of bearing his gift without disadvantage. But if he only wants to live in his gift and consequently rejects his other, he oversteps the mark, since the essence of his gift is extra-human and a natural phenomenon, which he in reality is not. All the world sees his error, and he becomes the victim of its mockery. Then he says that others mock him, while it is only the disregard of his other that makes him ridiculous.

When the God enters my life, I return to my poverty for the sake of the God. I accept the burden of poverty and bear all my ugliness and ridiculousness, and also everything reprehensible in me. I thus relieve the God of all the confusion and absurdity that would befall him if I did not accept it. With this I prepare the way for the God's doing. What should happen? Has the darkest abyss been emptied and exhausted? Or what stands and waits down there, impending and red-hot? [Image 117] [222]

/ [117/118] Which fire has not been put out and which embers are still ablaze? We sacrificed innumerable victims to the dark depths, and yet it still demands more. What is this crazy desire craving satisfaction? Whose mad cries are these? Who among the dead suffers thus? Come here and drink blood, so that you can speak. [223] Why do you reject the blood? Would you like milk? Or the red juice of the vine?

"His eyes shall be red with wine": this is the intoxicating celestial wine from which the masters of the Torah drink. "And his teeth white with milk", because the Torah is both wine and milk, the Oral and the Written Law.

 -- The Zohar, translated by Harry Sperling and Maurice Simon

Perhaps you would rather have love? Love for the dead? Being in love with the dead? Are you perhaps demanding the seeds of life for the faded thousand-year-old body of the underworld? An unchaste incestuous lust for the dead? Something that makes the blood run cold. Are you demanding a lusty commingling with corpses? I spoke of "acceptance" -- but you demand "to seize, embrace, copulate?" Are you demanding the desecration of the dead? That prophet, you say, lay on the child, and placed his mouth on the child's mouth, and his eyes on its eyes, and his hands on its hands and he thus splays himself over the boy, so that the child's body became warm. But he rose again and went here and there in the house before he mounted anew and spread himself over him again. The boy snorted seven times. Then the boy opened his eyes. So shall your acceptance be, so shall you accept, not cool, not superior, not thought out, not obsequious, not as a self-chastisement, but with pleasure, precisely with this ambiguous impure pleasure, whose ambiguity enables it to unite with the higher, with that holy-evil pleasure of which you do not know whether it be virtue or vice, with that pleasure which is lusty repulsiveness, lecherous fear, sexual immaturity. One wakens the dead with this pleasure.

"AND IT CAME TO PASS WHEN PHARAOH SENT AWAY THE PEOPLE, ETC. R. Simeon discoursed here on the verse: "A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet upon shigionoth" (Hab. III, 1). 'Why', he said, 'is this vision of Habakkuk designated "prayer", a title unique in the prophetic writings? Why do we find only a prayer of Habakkuk and not of Isaiah or Jeremiah? To explain this we must go back to the tradition which says that he was the son of the Shunammite woman who befriended Elisha, and that his name contains an allusion to Elisha's words, "about this set time, according to the time of life, thou wilt embrace (hobeketh) a son" (2 Kings IV, 16). The promise was fulfilled, but the child subsequently died. Why? Because it was given to her and not to her husband; it came from the "feminine" region alone, and everything emanating from the feminine principle ends in death. Elisha, seeing that the child was dead, realized the reason; and therefore, "he lay upon the child, and put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands, and he stretched himself upon the child, and the flesh of the child waxed warm"); that is to say, he connected him with another supernal region where there is an abundance of life, not uprooting the child from the former region, but awakening a new spirit from above and restoring his soul to him. "And the child sneezed seven times, and the child opened his eyes". Now this child became the prophet Habakkuk. The duplicate form of his name (Habakkuk instead of Habuk = embraced) suggests that he owed his life to two "embracings": one of his mother, and one of Elisha, one coming from the sphere to which he was attached at first, and the other from the higher supernal grade.

 -- The Zohar, translated by Harry Sperling and Maurice Simon

Your lowest is in a sleep resembling death and needs the warmth of life which contains good and evil inseparably and indistinguishably. That is the way of life; you can call it neither evil nor good, neither pure nor impure. Yet this is not the goal, but the way and the crossing. It is also sickness and the beginning of recovery. It is the mother of all abominable deeds and all salutary symbols. It is the most primordial form of creation, the very first dark urge that flows through all secret hiding places and dark passages, with the unintentional lawfulness of water and from unexpected places in the loose soil, swelling from the finest cracks to fructify the dry soil. It is the very first, secret teacher of nature, teaching plants and animals the most astonishing and supremely clever skills and tricks, which we hardly know how to fathom. It is the great sage who has superhuman knowledge, who has the greatest of all the sciences, who makes order out of confusion, and who prophesies the future clairvoyantly out of ungraspable fullness. It is the serpentlike, perishable and beneficial, the dreadfully and ridiculously daimonic. It is the arrow that always hits the weakest spot, the spring root which opens the sealed treasure chambers.

You can call it neither clever nor stupid, neither good nor evil, since its nature is inhuman throughout. It is the son of the earth, the dark one whom you should awaken. [224] It is man and woman at the same time and immature sex, rich in interpretation and misinterpretation, so poor in meaning and yet so rich. This is the dead that cried loudest, that stood right at the bottom and waited, that suffered worst. It desired neither blood nor milk nor wine for the sacrifice of the dead, but the willingness of our flesh. Its longing paid no heed to the torment of our spirit which struggled and tortured itself to devise what cannot be devised, that hence tore itself apart and sacrificed itself. Not until our spirit lay dismembered on the altar did I hear the voice of the son of the earth, and only then did I see that he was the great suffering one, who needed salvation. He is the chosen one since he was the most rejected. It is bad to have to say this, but perhaps I hear badly, or perhaps I misunderstand what the depths say. It is miserable to say as much, and yet I must say it.

The depths are silent. He has arisen and now beholds the light of the sun and is among the living. Restlessness and discord rose up with him, doubt and the fullness of life.

Amen, it is finished. What was unreal is real, what was real is unreal. However, I may not, I do not want to, I cannot. Oh human wretchedness! Oh unwillingness in us! Oh doubt and despair. This is really Good Friday, upon which the Lord died and descended into Hell and completed the mysteries. [225] This is the Good Friday when we complete the Christ in us and we descend to Hell ourselves. This the Good Friday on which we moan and cry to will the completion of Christ, for after his completion we go to Hell. Christ was so powerful that his realm covered all the world and only Hell lay outside it.

Who succeeded in crossing the borders of this realm with good grounds, pure conscience, and obeying the law of love? Who among the living is Christ and journeys to Hell in living flesh? Who is it that expands the realm of Christ with Hell? Who is it that is full of drunkenness while sober? Who is it that descended from being one into being two? Who is it that tore apart his own heart to unite what has been separated?

I am he, the nameless one, who does not know himself and whose name is concealed even from himself. I have no name, since I have not yet existed, but have only just become. To myself I am an Anabaptist and a stranger. I, who I am, am not it. But I, who will be I before me and after me, am it. In that I abased myself, I elevated myself as another. In that I accepted myself, I divided myself into two, and in that I united myself with myself, I became the smaller part of myself. I am this in my consciousness. However, I am thus in my consciousness as if I were also separated from it. I am / [Image 119] [226] / [118/120] not in my second and greater state, as if I were this second and greater one myself, but I am always in ordinary consciousness, yet so separate and distinct from it, as if I were in my second and greater state, but without the consciousness of really being it. I have even become smaller and poorer, but precisely because of my smallness I can be conscious of the nearness of the great.


I have been baptized with impure water for rebirth. A flame from the fire of Hell awaited me above the baptismal basin. I have bathed myself with impurity and I have cleansed myself with dirt. I received him, I accepted him, the divine brother, the son of the earth, the two-sexed and impure, and overnight he has become a man. His two incisors have broken through and light down covers his chin. I captured him, I overcame him, I embraced him. He demanded much from me and yet brought everything with him. For he is rich; the earth belongs to him. But his black horse has parted from him.


Truly, I have shot down a proud enemy, I have forced a greater and stronger one to be my friend. Nothing should separate me from him, the dark one. If I want to leave him, he follows me like my shadow. If I do not think of him, he is still uncannily near. He will turn into fear if I deny him. I must amply commemorate him, I must prepare a sacrificial meal for him. I fill a plate for him at my table. Much that I would have done earlier for men, I now must do for him. Hence they consider me selfish, for they do not know that I go with my friend, and that many days are consecrated to him. [227] But unrest has moved in, a quiet underground earthquake, a distant great roaring. Ways have been opened to the primordial and to the future. Miracles and terrible mysteries are close at hand. I feel the things that were and that will be. Behind the ordinary the eternal abyss yawns. The earth gives me back what it hid. / [120/122][Image 121] [228] [229] [230] / [Image 122] [231] [232] / [122/124][Image 123] [233] /
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 3:00 am

Chapter 18: The Three Prophecies

Cap. xviii

[HI 124] [234] Wondrous things came nearer. I called my soul and asked her to dive down into the floods, whose distant roaring I could hear. This happened on 22 January of the year 1914, as recorded in my black book. And thus she plunged into the darkness like a shot, and from the depths she called out: "Will you accept what I bring?"

I: "'I will accept what you give. I do not have the right to judge or to reject."

S: "So listen. There is old armor and the rusty gear of our fathers down here, murderous leather trappings hanging from them, worm-eaten lance shafts, twisted spear heads, broken arrows, rotten shields, skulls, the bones of man and horse, old cannons, catapults, crumbling firebrands, smashed assault gear, stone spearheads, stone clubs, sharp bones, chipped arrowhead teeth -- everything the battles of yore have littered the earth with. Will you accept all this?"

I: "I accept it. You know better, my soul."

S: "I find painted stones, carved bones with magical signs, talismanic sayings on hanks of leather and small plates of lead, dirty pouches filled with teeth, human hair and fingernails, timbers lashed together, black orbs, moldy animal skins -- all the superstitions hatched by dark prehistory. Will you accept all this?"

I: "I accept it all, how should I dismiss anything?"

S: "But I find worse: fratricide, cowardly mortal blows, torture, child sacrifice, the annihilation of whole peoples, arson, betrayal, war, rebellion -- will you also accept this?"

I: ''Also this, if it must be. How can I judge?"

S: "I find epidemics, natural catastrophes, sunken ships, razed cities, frightful feral savagery, famines, human meanness, and fear, whole mountains of fear."

I: "So shall it be, since you give it."

S: "I find the treasures of all past cultures, magnificent images of Gods, spacious temples, paintings, papyrus rolls, sheets of parchment with the characters of bygone languages, books full of lost wisdom, hymns and chants of ancient priests, stories told down the ages through thousands of generations."

I: "That is an entire world -- whose extent I cannot grasp. How can I accept it?"

S: "But you wanted to accept everything? You do not know your limits. Can you not limit yourself?"

I: "I must limit myself. Who could ever grasp such wealth?"

S: "Be content and cultivate your garden with modesty." [235]

I: "I will. I see that it is not worth conquering a larger piece of the immeasurable, but a smaller one instead. A well-tended small garden is better than an ill-tended large garden. Both gardens are equally small when faced with the immeasurable, but unequally cared for."

S: "Take shears and prune your trees."


[2] From the flooding darkness the son of the earth had brought, my soul gave me ancient things that pointed to the future. She gave me three things: The misery of war, the darkness of magic, and the gift of religion.

If you are clever, you will understand that these three things belong together. These three mean the unleashing of chaos and its power, just as they also mean the binding of chaos. War is obvious and everybody sees it. Magic is dark and no one sees it. Religion is still to come, but it will become evident. Did you think that the horrors of such atrocious warfare would come over us? Did you think that magic existed? Did you think about a new religion? I sat up for long nights and looked ahead at what was to come and I shuddered. Do you believe me? I am not too concerned. What should I believe? What should I disbelieve? I saw and I shuddered.

But my spirit could not grasp the monstrous, and could not conceive the extent of what was to come. The force of my longing languished, and powerless sank the harvesting hands. I felt the burden of the most terrible work of the times ahead. I saw where and how, but no word can grasp it, no will can conquer it. I could not do otherwise, I let it sink again into the depths.

I cannot give it to you, and I can speak only of the way of what is to come. Little good will come to you from outside. What will come to you lies within yourself. But what lies there! I would like to avert my eyes, close my ears and deny all my senses; I would like to be someone among you, who knows nothing and who never saw anything. It is too much and too unexpected. But I saw it and my memory will not leave me alone. [236] Yet I curtail my longing, which would like to stretch out into the future, and I return to my small garden that presently blooms, and whose extent I can measure. It shall be well-tended.

The future should be left to those of the future. I return to the small and the real, for this is the great way; the way of what is to come. I return to my simple reality; to my undeniable and most minuscule being. And I take a knife and hold court over everything that has grown without measure and goal. Forests have grown around me, winding plants have climbed up me, and I am completely covered by endless proliferation. The depths are inexhaustible, they give everything. Everything is as good as nothing. Keep a little and you have something. To recognize and know your ambition and your greed, to gather / [124/126] [Image 125] [237] / your craving, to cultivate it, grasp it, make it serviceable, influence it, master it, order it, to give it interpretations and meanings, is extravagant.

It is lunacy; like everything that transcends its boundaries. How can you hold that which you are not? Would you really like to force everything which you are not under the yoke of your wretched knowledge and understanding? Remember that you can know yourself and with that you know enough. But you cannot know others and everything else. Beware of knowing what lies beyond yourself or else your presumed knowledge will suffocate the life of those who know themselves. A knower may know himself. That is his limit.

With a painful slice I cut off what I pretended to know about what lies beyond me. I excise myself from the cunning interpretive loops that I gave to what lies beyond me. And my knife cuts even deeper and separates me from the meanings that I conferred upon myself. I cut down to the marrow, until everything meaningful falls from me, until I am no longer as I might seem to myself until I know only that I am without knowing what I am.

I want to be poor and bare, and I want to stand naked before the inexorable. I want to be my body and its poverty. I want to be from the earth and live its law. I want to be my human animal and accept all its frights and desires. I want to go through the wailing and the blessedness of the one who stood alone with a poor unarmed body on the sunlit earth, a prey of his drives and of the lurking wild animals, who was terrified by ghosts and dreaming of distant Gods, who belonged to what was near and was enemy to the far-off, who struck fire from stones, and whose herds were stolen by unknowable powers that also destroyed the crops of his fields, and who neither knew nor recognized, but who lived by what lay at hand, and received by grace what lay far-off.

He was a child and unsure, yet full of certainty, weak and yet blessed with enormous strength. When his God did not help, he took another. And when this one did not help either, he castigated him. And behold: the Gods helped one more time. Thus I discard everything that was laden with meaning, everything divine and devilish with which chaos burdened me. Truly, it is not up to me to prove the Gods and the devils and the chaotic monsters, to feed them carefully, to warily drag them with me, to count and name them, and to protect them with belief against disbelief and doubt.

A free man knows only free Gods and devils that are self-contained and take effect on account of their own force. If they fail to have an effect, that is their own business, and I can remove this burden from myself. But if they are effective, they need neither my protection nor my care, nor my belief. Thus you may wait quietly to see whether they work. But if they do, be clever, for the tiger is stronger than you. You should be able to cast everything from you, otherwise you are a slave, even if you are the slave of a God. Life is free and chooses its way. It is limited enough, so do not pile up more limitation. Hence I cut away everything confining. I stood here, and there lay the riddlesome multifariousness of the world.


And a horror crept over me. Am I not the tightly bound? Is the world there not the unlimited? And I became aware of my weakness. What would poverty, nakedness and unpreparedness be without consciousness of weakness and without horror at powerlessness? Thus I stood and was terrified. And then my soul whispered to me:
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 3:02 am

Chapter 19: The Gift of Magic

Cap. xix.

[HI 126] [238] "Do you not hear something?"

I: "I'm not aware of anything, what should I hear?"

S: ''A ringing."

I: "A ringing? What? I hear nothing."

S: "Listen harder."

I: "Perhaps something in the left ear. What could it mean?"

S: "Misfortune."

I: "I accept what you say. I want to have fortune and misfortune."

S: "Well, then, raise your hands and receive what comes to you."

I: "What is it? A rod? A black serpent? A black rod, formed like a serpent -- with two pearls as eyes -- a gold bangle around its neck. Is it not like a magical rod?"

S: "It is a magical rod."

I: "What should I do with magic? Is the magical rod a misfortune? Is magic a misfortune?"

S: "Yes, for those who possess it."

I: "That sounds like the sayings of old -- how strange you are, my soul! What should I do with magic?"

S: "Magic will do a lot for you."

I: I'm afraid that you're stirring up my desire and misunderstanding. You know that man never stops craving the black art and things that cost no effort."

S: "Magic is not easy, and it demands sacrifice."

I: "Does it demand the sacrifice of love? Of humanity? If it does, take the rod back."

S: "Don't be rash. Magic doesn't demand that sacrifice. It demands another sacrifice."

I: "What sacrifice is that?"

S: "The sacrifice that magic demands is solace."

I: "Solace? Do I understand correctly? Understanding you is unspeakably difficult. Tell me, what does this mean?"

S: "Solace is to be sacrificed."

I: "What do you mean? Should the solace that I give or the solace that I receive be sacrificed?"

S: "Both."

I: "I'm confused. This is too dark."

S: "You must sacrifice solace for the sake of the black rod, the solace you give and the solace you receive."

I: ''Are you saying that I shouldn't be allowed to receive the solace of those I love? And should give no solace to those I love? This means the loss of a piece of humanity, and what one calls severity toward oneself and others takes its place." [239]

S: "That is how it is."

I: "Does the rod demand this sacrifice?"

S: "It demands this sacrifice."

I: "Can I, am I allowed to make this sacrifice for the sake of the rod? Must I accept the rod?"

S: "Do you want to or not?"

I: "I can't say. What do I know about the black rod? Who gives it to me?"

S: "The darkness that lies before you. It is the next thing that comes to you. Will you accept it and offer it your sacrifice?"

I: It is hard to sacrifice to the dark, to the blind darkness -- and what a sacrifice!"

S: "Nature -- does nature offer solace? Does it accept solace?"

I: "You venture a heavy word. What solitude are you asking of me?"

S: "This is your misfortune, and -- the power of the black rod."

I: "How gloomily and full of foreboding you speak! Are you sheathing me in the armor / [126/128] [Image 127] [240] / of icy severity? Are you clasping my heart with a bronze carapace? I'm happy with the warmth of life. Should I miss it? For the sake of magic? What is magic?"

S: "You don't know magic. So don't judge. What are you bristling at?"

I: "Magic! What should I do with magic? I don't believe in it, I can't believe in it. My heart sinks -- and I'm supposed to sacrifice a greater part of my humanity to magic?

S: "I advise you, don't struggle against this, and above all don't act so enlightened, as if deep down you did not believe in magic."

I: "You're inexorable. But I can't believe in magic, or maybe I have a completely false idea of it."

S: "Yes, I gather that from what you're saying. Cast aside your blind judgment and critical gesture, otherwise you'll never understand. Do you still mean to waste years waiting?"

I: "Be patient, my science has not yet been overcome."

S: "High time that you overcame it!"

I: "You ask a great deal, almost too much. After all -- is science essential to life? Is science life? There are people who live without science. But to overcome science for the sake of magic? That's uncanny and menacing."

S: ''Are you afraid? Don't you want to risk life? Isn't it life that presents you with this problem?"

I: ''All this leaves me so dazed and confused. Won't you give me an enlightening word?"

S: "Oh, so it's solace you long for? Do you want the rod or don't you?"

I: "You tear my heart to pieces. I want to submit to life. But how difficult this is! I want the black rod because it is the first thing the darkness grants me. I don't know what this rod means, nor what it gives -- I only feel what it takes. I want to kneel down and receive this messenger of darkness. I have received the black rod, and now I hold it, the enigmatic one, in my hand; it is cold and heavy, like iron. The pearl eyes of the serpent look at me blindly and dazzlingly. What do you want, mysterious gift? All the darkness of all former worlds crowds together in you, you hard, black piece of steel! Are you time and fate? The essence of nature, hard and eternally inconsolable, yet the sum of all mysterious creative force? Primordial magic words seem to emanate from you, mysterious effects weave around you, and what powerful arts slumber in you? You pierce me with unbearable tension -- what grimaces will you make? What terrible mystery will you create? Will you bring bad weather, storms, cold, thunder and lightning, or will you make the fields fruitful and bless the bodies of pregnant women? What is the mark of your being? Or don't you need that, you son of the dark womb? Do you content yourself with the hazy darkness, whose concretion and crystal you are? Where in my soul do I shelter you? In my heart? Should my heart be your shrine, your holy of holies? So choose your place. I have accepted you. What crushing tension you bring with you! Isn't the bow of my nerves breaking? I've taken in the messenger of the night."

S: "The most powerful magic lives in it."

I: "I feel it and yet can't put into words the nightmarish power granted to it. I wanted to laugh, because so much alters in laughter, and resolves itself only there. But laughter dies in me. The magic of this rod is as solid as iron and as cold as death. Forgive me, my soul, I don't want to be impatient, but it seems to me that something has got to happen to break through this unbearable tension that came with the rod."

S: "Wait, keep your eyes and ears open."

I: "I'm shuddering, and I don't know why."

S: "Sometimes one must shudder before -- the greatest."

I: "I bow; my soul, before unknown forces -- I'd like to consecrate an altar to each unknown God. I must submit. The black iron in my heart gives me secret power. It's like defiance and like -- contempt for men." [241]

[2] Oh dark act, violation, murder! Abyss, give birth to the unredeemed. Who is our redeemer? Who our leader? Where are the ways through black wastes? God, do not abandon us! What are you summoning, God? Raise your hand up to the darkness above you, pray, despair, wring your hands, kneel, press your forehead into the dust, cry out, but do not name Him, do not look at Him. Leave Him without name and form. What should form the formless? Name the nameless? Step onto the great way and grasp what is nearest. Do not look out, do not want, but lift up your hands. The gifts of darkness are full of riddles. The way is open to whomever can continue in spite of riddles. Submit to the riddles and the thoroughly incomprehensible. There are dizzying / [128/130/ [Image 129] / bridges over the eternally deep abyss. But follow the riddles.

Endure them, the terrible ones. It is still dark, and the terrible goes on growing. Lost and swallowed by the streams of procreating life, we approach the overpowering, inhuman forces that are busily creating what is to come. How much future the depths carry! Are not the threads spun down there over millennia? [242] Protect the riddles, bear them in your heart, warm them, be pregnant with them. Thus you carry the future.

The tension of the future is unbearable in us. It must break through narrow cracks, it must force new ways. You want to cast off the burden, you want to escape the inescapable. Running away is deception and detour. Shut your eyes so that you do not see the manifold, the outwardly plural, the tearing away and the tempting. There is only one way and that is your way; there is only one salvation and that is your salvation. Why are you looking around for help? Do you believe that help will come from outside? What is to come will be created in you and from you. Hence look into yourself. Do not compare, do not measure. No other way is like yours. All other ways deceive and tempt you. You must fulfill the way that is in you.

Oh, that all men and all their ways become strange to you! Thus might you find them again within yourself and recognize their ways. But what weakness! What doubt! What fear! You will not bear going your way. You always want to have at least one foot on paths not your own to avoid the great solitude! So that maternal comfort is always with you! So that someone acknowledges you, recognizes you, bestows trust in you, comforts you, encourages you. So that someone pulls you over onto their path, where you stray from yourself, and where it is easier for you to set yourself aside. As if you were not yourself! Who should accomplish your deeds? Who should carry your virtues and your vices? You do not come to an end with your life, and the dead will besiege you terribly to live your unlived life. Everything must be fulfilled. Time is of the essence, so why do you want to pile up the lived and let the unlived rot?


Great is the power of the way. [243] In it Heaven and Hell grow together, and in it the power of the Below and the power of the Above unite. The nature of the way is magical, as are supplication and invocation; [244] malediction and deed are magical if they occur on the great way. Magic is the working of men on men, but your magic action does not affect your neighbor; it affects you first, and only if you withstand it does an invisible effect pass from you to your neighbor. There is more of it in the air than I ever thought. However, it cannot be grasped. Listen:

The Above is powerful,
The Below is powerful,
Twofold power is in the One.
North, come hither,
West, snuggle up,
East, flow upward,
South, spill over.

The winds in-between bind the
cross. The poles are united by the
intermediate poles in-between.
Steps lead from above to below.
Boiling water bubbles in
cauldrons. Red-hot ash envelops
the round floor. [245]
Night sinks blue and deep from
above, earth rises black from
below. / [Image 131] / [130/132]

A solitary is cooking up healing potions.
He makes offering to the four winds.
He greets the stars and touches the earth.
He holds something luminous in his hand.

Flowers sprout around him and the bliss of a new spring kisses all his limbs.

Birds fly around and the shy animals of the forest gaze at him.

He is far from men and yet the threads of their fate pass through his hands.

May your intercession be meant for him, so that his medicine grows ripe and strong and brings healing to the deepest wounds.

For your sake he is solitary and waits alone between Heaven and earth, for the earth to rise up to him and for Heaven to come down to him.

All peoples are still far off and stand behind the wall of darkness.

But I hear his words, which reach me from afar.

He has chosen a poor scribe, someone hard of hearing, who also stutters when he writes.

I do not recognize him, the solitary. What is he saying? He says: "I suffer fear and distress for the sake of man."

I dug up old runes and magical sayings for words never reach men. Words have become shadows.

Therefore I took old magical apparatuses and prepared hot potions and mixed in secrets and ancient powers, things that even the cleverest would not guess at.

I stewed the roots of all human thoughts and deeds.

I watched over the cauldron through many starry nights. The brew ferments forever. I need your intercession, your kneeling, your desperation and your patience. I need your ultimate and highest longing, your purest willing, your most humble subjugation.

Solitary, who are you waiting for? Whose help do you require? There is none who can rush to your aid, since all look to you and wait for your healing art.

We are all utterly incapable and need help more than you. Grant us help so that we can help you in return.

The solitary speaks: "will no one stand by me in this need? Should I leave my work to help you so that you can help me again? But how should I help you, if my brew has not grown ripe and strong? It was supposed to help you. What do you hope from me?"

Come to us! Why are you standing there cooking up marvels? What can your healing and magical potion do for us? Do you believe in healing potions? Look at life, behold how much it needs you! / [132/134] [Image 133] /

The solitary speaks: "Fools, can you not keep watch with me for an hour, [246] until the difficult and long-lasting achieves completion and the juice has ripened?

Just a little longer and fermentation will be complete. Why can't you wait? Why should your impatience destroy the highest opus?"

What highest opus? We are not alive; cold and numbness have seized us. Your opus, solitary one, will not be finished for aeons, even if it advances day after day.

The work of salvation is endless. Why do you want to wait for the end of this work? Even if your waiting turned you into stone for endless ages, you could not endure till the end. And if your salvation came to its end, you would have to be saved from your salvation again.

The solitary speaks: "What smooth-tongued lamentation reaches my ears! What whining! What foolish doubters you are! Unruly children! Persevere, it will be accomplished after this night!"

We will not wait a single night longer; we have persevered long enough. Are you a God, that a thousand nights are as one night to you? For us, this one night would be like a thousand nights. Abandon the work of salvation, and we will be saved. What stretch of ages are you saving us for?

The solitary speaks: "You embarrassing human swarm, you foolish bastard of God and cattle, I'm still lacking a piece of your precious flesh for my mixture. Am I truly your most valuable piece of meat? Is it worth my while to come to the boil for you? One let himself be nailed to the cross for you. One is truly enough. He blocks my way. Therefore neither will I walk on his ways, nor make for you any healing brew or immortal [247] blood potion, but rather I will abandon the potion and cauldron and occult work for your sake, since you can neither wait for nor endure the fulfillment. I throw down your intercession, your genuflection, your invocations. You can save yourselves from both your lack of salvation and your salvation! Your worth rose quite high enough because one died for you. Now prove your worth by each living for himself. My God, how difficult it is to leave a work unfinished for the sake of men! But for the sake of men, I abstain from being a savior. Lo! Now my potion has completed its fermentation. I did not mix a piece of myself into the drink, but I did slice in a piece of humanity, and behold, it clarified the murky foaming potion.

How sweet, how bitter
it tastes!
The Below is weak,
The Above is weak,

The form of the One
becomes double.
North, rise and be gone,
West, retire to your place,

East, spread yourself,
South, die down.
The winds in-between
loosen the crucified. / [134/135]]
[Image 135] [248] / [135/136]

The far poles are separated
by the poles in-between.
The levels are broad ways,
patient streets.
The bubbling pot grows cold.

The ash turns gray
beneath its ground.
Night covers the sky and far
below lies the black earth.

Day approaches, and above the clouds a distant sun.
No solitary cooks healing potions.
The four winds blow and laugh at their bounty.
And he mocks the four winds.
He has seen the stars and touched the earth.
Therefore his hand clasps something luminous
and his shadow has grown to Heaven. [Image 136]

The inexplicable occurs. You would very much like to forsake yourself and defect to each and every possibility: You would very much like to risk every crime in order to steal for yourself the mystery of the changeful. But the road is without end.
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 3:03 am

Chapter 20: The Way of the Cross

Cap. xx. [249]

[HI 136] [250] I saw black serpent, [251] as it wound itself upward around the wood of the cross. It crept into the body of the crucified and emerged again transformed from his mouth. It had become white. It wound itself around the head of the dead one like a diadem, and a light gleamed above his head, and the sun rose shining in the east. I stood and watched and was confused and a great weight burdened my soul. But the white bird that sat on my shoulder spoke to me: [252] "Let it rain, let the wind blow, let the waters flow and the fire burn. Let each thing have its development, let becoming have its day."


[2] 2. Truly; the way leads through the crucified, that means through him to whom it was no small thing to live his own life, and who was therefore raised to magnificence. He did not simply teach what was knowable and worth knowing, he lived it. It is unclear how great one's humility must be to take it upon oneself to live one's own life. The disgust of whoever wants to enter into his own life can hardly be measured. Aversion will sicken him. He makes himself vomit. His bowels pain him and his brain sinks into lassitude. He would rather devise any trick to help him escape, since nothing matches the torment of one's own way. It seems impossibly difficult, so difficult that nearly anything seems preferable to this torment. Not a few choose even to love people for fear of themselves. I believe, too, that some commit a crime to pick a quarrel with themselves. Therefore I cling to everything that obstructs my way to myself.

3. [253] He who goes to himself, climbs down. Pathetic and ridiculous forms appeared to the greatest prophet who came before this time, and these were the forms of his own essence. He did not accept them, but exorcized them before others. Ultimately, however, he was forced to celebrate a Last Supper with his own poverty and to accept these forms of his own essence out of compassion, which is precisely that acceptance of the lowest in us. [254] But this enraged the mighty lion, who chased down the lost and restored it to the darkness of the depths. [255] And like all those with power, the one with the great name wanted to erupt from the womb of the mountain like the sun. [256] But what happened to him? His way led him before the crucified and he began to rage. He raged against the man of mockery and pain because the power of his own essence forced him to follow precisely this way as Christ had done before us. Yet he loudly proclaimed his power and greatness. No one speaks louder of his power and greatness than he from whom the earth disappears under his feet. Ultimately the lowest in him got to him, his incapacity, and this crucified his spirit, so that, as he himself had predicted, his soul died before his body. [257]

4. No one rises above himself who has not turned his most dangerous weapon against himself. One who wants to rise above himself shall climb down and hoist himself onto himself and lug himself to the place of sacrifice. But what must happen to a man until he realizes that outer visible success, that he can grasp with his hands, / [136/137] leads him astray. What suffering must be brought upon humanity, until man gives up satisfying his longing for power over his fellow man and forever wanting others to be the same. How much blood must go on flowing until man opens his eyes and sees the way to his own path and himself as the enemy; and becomes aware of his real success. You ought to be able to live with yourself but not at your neighbor's expense. The herd animal is not his brother's parasite and pest. Man, you have even forgotten that you too are an animal. You actually still seem to believe that life is better elsewhere. Woe unto you if your neighbor also thinks so. But you may be sure that he does. Someone must begin to stop being childish.

5. Your craving satisfies itself in you. You can offer no more precious a sacrificial meal to your God than yourself. May your greed consume you, for this wearies and calms it, and you will sleep well and consider the sun of each day as a gift. If you devour other things and other people, your greed remains eternally dissatisfied, for it craves more, the most costly -- it craves you. And thus you compel your desire to take your own way. You may ask others provided that you need help and advice. But you should make demands on no one, neither desiring nor expecting anything from anyone except from yourself. For your craving satisfies itself only within you. You are afraid of burning in your own fire. May nothing prevent you from doing so, neither anyone else's sympathy nor your more dangerous sympathy with yourself. Since you should live and die with yourself.

6. When the flame of your greed consumes you, and nothing remains of you but ash, so nothing of you was steadfast. Yet the flame in which you consumed yourself has illuminated many. But if you flee from your fire full of fear, you scorch your fellow men, and the burning torment of your greed cannot die out, so long as you do not desire yourself.

7. The mouth utters the word, the sign, and the symbol. If the word is a sign, it means nothing. But if the word is a symbol, it means everything. [258] When the way enters death and we are surrounded by rot and horror, the way rises in the darkness and leaves the mouth as the saving symbol, the word. It leads the sun on high, for in the symbol there is the release of the bound human force struggling with darkness. Our freedom does not lie outside us, but within us. One can be bound outside, and yet one will still feel free since one has burst inner bonds. One can certainly gain outer freedom through powerful actions, but one creates inner freedom only through the symbol.

8. The symbol is the word that goes out of the mouth, that one does not simply speak, but that rises out of the depths of the self as a word of power and great need and places itself unexpectedly on the tongue. It is an astonishing and perhaps seemingly irrational word, but one recognizes it as a symbol since it is alien to the conscious mind. If one accepts the symbol, it is as if a door opens leading into a new room whose existence one previously did not know. But if one does not accept the symbol, it is as if one carelessly went past this door; and since this was the only door leading to the inner chambers, one must pass outside into the streets again, exposed to everything external. But the soul suffers great need, since outer freedom is of no use to it. Salvation is a long road that leads through many gates. These gates are symbols. Each new gate is at first invisible; indeed, it seems at first that / [137/138] it must be created, for it exists only if one has dug up the spring's root, the symbol.

To find the mandrake, one needs the black dog, [259] since good and bad must always be united first if the symbol is to be created. The symbol can be neither thought up nor found: it becomes. Its becoming is like the becoming of human life in the womb. Pregnancy comes about through voluntary copulation. It goes on through willing attention. But if the depths have conceived, then the symbol grows out of itself and is born from the mind, as befits a God. But in the same way a mother would like to throw herself on the child like a monster and devour it again.

In the morning, when the new sun rises, the word steps out of my mouth, but is murdered lovelessly; since I did not know that it was the savior. The newborn child grows quickly, if I accept it. And immediately it becomes my charioteer. The word is the guide, the middle way which easily oscillates like the needle on the scales. The word is the God that rises out of the waters each morning and proclaims the guiding law to the people. Outer laws and outer wisdom are eternally insufficient, since there is only one law and one wisdom, namely my daily law, my daily wisdom. The God renews himself each night.

The God appears in multiple guises; for when he emerges, he has assumed some of the character of the night and the nightly waters in which he slumbered, and in which he struggled for renewal in the last hour of the night. Consequently his appearance is twofold and ambiguous; indeed, it even tears at the heart and the mind. On emerging, the God calls me toward the right and the left, his voice calling out to me from both sides. Yet the God wants neither the one nor the other. He wants the middle way. But the middle is the beginning of the long road.

Man, however, can never see this beginning; he always sees only one and not the other, or the other and not the one, but never that which the one as well as the other encloses in itself. The point of origin is where the mind and the will stand still; it is a state of suspension that evokes my outrage, my defiance and eventually my greatest fear. For I can see nothing anymore and can no longer want anything. Or at least that is how it seems to me. The way is a highly peculiar standstill of everything that was previously movement, it is a blind waiting, a doubtful listening and groping. One is convinced that one will burst. But the resolution is born from precisely this tension, and it almost always appears where one did not expect it.

But what is the resolution? It is always something ancient and precisely because of this something new, for when something long since passed away comes back again in a changed world, it is new. To give birth to the ancient in a new time is creation. This is the creation of the new, and that redeems me. Salvation is the resolution of the task. The task is to give birth to the old in a new time. The soul of humanity is like the great wheel of the zodiac that rolls along the way. Everything that comes up in a constant movement from below to the heights was already there. There is no part of the wheel that does not come around again. Hence everything that has been streams upward there, and what has been will be again. For these are all things which are the inborn properties of human nature. It belongs to the essence of forward movement that what was returns. [260] Only the ignorant can marvel at this. Yet the meaning does not lie in the eternal recurrence of the same, [261] but in the manner of its recurring creation at any given time.

The meaning lies in the manner and the direction of the recurring creation. But how do I create my charioteer? Or do I want to be my own charioteer? I can guide myself only with will and intention. But will and intention are simply part of myself. Consequently they are insufficient to express my wholeness. Intention is what I can foresee, and willing is to want a foreseen goal. But where do I find the goal? I take it from what is presently known to me. Thus I set the present in place of the future. In this / [138/139] manner, though I cannot reach the future, I artificially produce a constant present. Everything that would like to break into this present strikes me as a disturbance, and I seek to drive it away so that my intention survives. Thus I close off the progress of life. But how can I be my own charioteer without will and intention? Therefore a wise man does not want to be a charioteer, for he knows that will and intention certainly attain goals but disturb the becoming of the future.

Futurity grows out of me; I do not create it, and yet I do, though not deliberately and willfully, but rather against will and intention. If I want to create the future, then I work against my future. And if I do not want to create it, once again I do not take sufficient part in the creation of the future, and everything happens then according to unavoidable laws to which I fall victim. The ancients devised magic to compel fate. They needed it to determine outer fate. We need it to determine inner fate and to find the way that we are unable to conceive. For a long time I considered what type of magic this would have to be. And in the end I found nothing. Whoever cannot find it within himself should become an apprentice, and so I took myself off to a far country where a great magician lived, of whose reputation I had heard.
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 10:24 am


Chapter 21: The Magician [262]

Cap. xxi.

[HI: 139] {I} [1] [263] After a long search I found the small house in the country fronted by a large bed of tulips. This is where Image[Philemon], the magician, lives with his wife, Image [Baucis]. Image [Philemon] is one of those magicians who has not yet managed to banish old age, but who lives it with dignity, and his wife can only do the same. [264] Their interests seem to have become narrow, even childish. They water their bed of tulips and tell each other about the flowers that have newly appeared. And their days fade into a pale wavering chiaracuso, lit up by the past, only slightly frightened of the darkness of what is to come.

Why is Image a magician? [265] Does he conjure up immortality for himself, a life beyond? He was probably only a magician by profession, and he now appears to be a pensioned magician who has retired from service. His desirousness and creative drive have expired and he now enjoys his well-earned rest out of sheer incapacity, like every old man who can do nothing else than plant tulips and water his little garden. The magical rod lies in a cupboard together with the sixth and seventh books of Moses [266] and the wisdom of Image [Hermes Trismegitsus]. [267] Image is old and has become somewhat feeble-minded. He still murmurs a few magical spells for the well-being of bewitched cattle in return for some petty cash or a gift for the kitchen. But it is uncertain if these spells are still correct and whether he understands their meaning. It is also clear that it hardly matters what he murmurs, / [139/140] as the cattle might also get well on their own. There goes old Image in the garden, bent, with a watering can in his shaking hand. Baucis stands at the kitchen window and looks at him calmly and impassively. She has already seen this image a thousand times -- somewhat more infirm every time, feebler, seeing it a little less well every time since her eyesight gradually has become weaker. [268]

I stand at the garden gate. They have not noticed the stranger. "Image, old magician, how are you?" I call out to him. He does not hear me, seeming to be stone-deaf. I follow him and take his arm. He turns and greets me awkwardly and trembling. He has a white beard and thin white hair and a wrinkled face and there appears to be something about this face. His eyes are gray and old and something in them is strange, one would like to say alive. "I am well, stranger," he says, "but what are you doing here?"

I: "People tell me that you understand the black art. I am interested in that. Will you tell me about it?"

: "What should I tell you about? There is nothing to tell."

I: "Don't be ill-natured, old man, I want to learn."

: "You are certainly more learned than I. What could I teach you?"

I: "Do not be mean. I certainly don't intend to become your competitor. I'm just curious to know what you are up to and what magic you are performing."

: "What do you want? In the past I have helped people here and there who have been sick and disadvantaged."

I: "What exactly did you do?"

: "Well, I did it quite simply with sympathy."

I: " Old man, that word sounds comical and ambiguous."

: "How so?"

I: "It could mean that you helped people either by expressing compassion or by superstitious, sympathetic means."

: "Well, surely it would have been both."

I: "And that's all there was to your magic?"

: "There was more."

I: "What was it, tell me."

: "That is none of your business. You are impertinent and meddlesome."

I: "Please, don't take my curiosity badly. Recently I heard something about magic that awakened my interest in this bygone practice. And then I came to you because I heard that you understand the black art. If magic were still taught today at university, I would have studied it there. But the last college of magic was closed long ago. Today no professor knows anything anymore about magic. So do not be sensitive and miserly but tell me a bit about your art. Surely, you don't want to take your secrets with you to the grave, do you?"

: "Well, all you will do is laugh anyway. So why should I tell you anything? It would be better if everything were buried with me. It can always be rediscovered later. It will never be lost to humanity, since magic is reborn with each and every one of us."

I: "What do you mean? Do you believe that magic is really inborn in man?"

: "If I could, I would say, yes, of course, it is. But you will find this laughable."

I: "No, this time I will not laugh, because I have often wondered about the fact that all peoples in all times and in all places have the same magical customs. As you can see, I have already thought along similar lines."

: "What do you make of magic?"

I: "To put it plainly, nothing, or very little. It appears to me that magic is one of the vain tools of men inferior to nature. I can detect no other tangible meaning in magic."

: Your professors probably also know just as much."

I: "Yes, but what do you know about it?"

: ''I'd prefer not to say."

I: "Don't be so secretive, old man, otherwise I must assume that you know no more than I do."

: "Take it as you please."

I: "Your answer suggests that you most definitely understand more about it than others."

: "Comical fellow, how stubborn you are! But what I like about you is that your reason does not deter you."

I: "That's actually the case. Whenever I want to learn and understand something, I leave my so-called reason at home and give whatever it is that I am trying to understand the benefit of the doubt. I have learned this gradually, because nowadays the world of science is full of scary examples of the opposite."

: "In which case you could do very well for yourself." / [140/141]

I: "I hope so. Now, let us not stray from magic."

: "Why are you so determined about learning more about magic, if you claim that you have left your reason at home? Or would you not consider consistency part of reason?"

I: "I do -- I see, or rather, it seems as if you are quite an adept sophist, who skillfully leads me around the house and back to the door."

: "It seems that way to you because you judge everything from the standpoint of your intellect. If you forsake reason for a while, you will also give up consistency."

I: "That's a difficult test. But if I want to be adept at some point, I suppose I ought to submit to your request. Alright, I'm listening."

: "What do you want to hear?"

I: "You're not going to draw me out. I'm simply waiting for whatever you are going to say"

: "And what if I say nothing?"

I: "Well, then I'll withdraw somewhat embarrassed and think that Image is at the very least a shrewd fox, who definitely would have something to teach me."

Image: "With this, my boy, you have learned something about magic."

I: ''I'll have to chew on this. I must admit that this is somewhat surprising. I had imagined magic as being somewhat different."

Image: "Well, this shows you how little you understand about magic and how incorrect your notion of it is."

I: "If this should be the case, or that's how it is, then I must confess that I approached the problem completely incorrectly. I gather from what you are saying that these matters do not follow ordinary understanding."

Image: "Nor does magic."

I: "But you have not deterred me at all; on the contrary, I'm burning to hear even more. What I know up to now is essentially negative."

Image: "With this you have recognized a second main point. Above all, you must know that magic is the negative of what one can know."

I: "That, too, my dear Image, is a piece of knowledge that is hard to digest and causes me no small pain. The negative of what one can know? I suppose you mean that it cannot be known, don't you? This exhausts my understanding."

Image: "That is the third point that you must note as essential: namely, that there is nothing for you to understand."

I: "Well, I must confess that that is new and strange. So nothing at all about magic can be understood?"

Image: "Exactly. Magic happens to be precisely everything that eludes comprehension."

I: "But then how the devil is one to teach and learn magic?"

Image: "Magic is neither to be taught nor learned. It's foolish that you want to learn magic."

I: "But then magic is nothing but deception."

Image: "Watch out -- you have started reasoning again."

I: "It's difficult to exist without reason."

Image: "And that is exactly how difficult magic is."

I: "Well, in that case it's hard work. I conclude that it is an inescapable condition for the adept that he completely unlearns his reason."

Image: ''I'm afraid that is what it amounts to."

I: "Ye Gods, this is serious."

Image: "Not as serious as you think. Reason declines with old age, since it is an essential counterpart of the drives, which are much more intense in youth than in old age. Have you ever seen young magicians?"

I: "No, the magician is proverbially old."

Image: "You see, I'm right."

I: "But then the prospects of the adept are bad. He must wait until old age to experience the mysteries of magic."

Image: "If he gives up his reason before then, he can already experience something useful sooner."

I: "That seems to me to be a dangerous experiment. One cannot give up reason without further ado."

Image: "Nor can one / [141/142] simply become a magician."

I: "You lay damnable snares."

Image: "What do you want? Such is magic."

I: "Old devil, you make me envious of unreasoning old age."

Image: "Well, well, a youth who wants to be an old man! And why? He wants to learn magic and yet dares not to for the sake of his youth."

I: "You spread a terrible net, old trapper."

Image: "Perhaps you should still wait a few years with magic until your hair has gone gray and your reason has slackened somewhat."

I: "I don't want to listen to your scorn. Stupidly enough, I got caught up in your yarn. I can't make sense of you."

Image: "But stupidity would perhaps be progress on the way to magic."

I: "Incidentally, what on earth do you intend to achieve with your magic?"

Image: "I am alive, as you see."

I: "Other old men are, too."

Image: "Yes, but have you seen how?"

I: "Well, admittedly it was not a pleasant sight. Incidentally, time has left its mark on you, too."

Image: "I know."

I: "So, what gives you the advantage?"

Image: "It doesn't exactly meet the eye."

I: "What kind of advantage doesn't meet the eye?"

Image "I call that magic."

I: "You're moving in a vicious circle. May the devil get the better of you."

Image: "Well, that's another advantage of magic: not even the devil gets the better of me. You're beginning to understand magic, so I must assume that you have a good aptitude for it."

I: "Thank you, Image, that is enough; I feel dizzy. Goodbye!"

I leave the small garden and walk down the street. People are standing around in groups and glancing at me furtively. I hear them whispering behind my back: "Look, there he goes, old Image's student. He spoke a long time with the old man. He has learned something. He knows the mysteries. If only I could do what he is able to do now." "Be quiet, you damned fools," I want to call out to them, but I cannot, since I do not know whether I have actually learned anything. And because I remain silent, they are even more convinced that I have received the black art from Image."


[269] [2] [HI 142] It is an error to believe that there are magical practices that one can learn. One cannot understand magic. One can only understand what accords with reason. Magic accords with unreason, which one cannot understand. The world accords not only with reason but also with unreason. But just as one employs reason to make sense of the world, in that what is reasonable about it approaches reason, a lack of understanding also accords with unreason. / [142/143]

This meeting is magical and eludes comprehension. Magical understanding is what one calls noncomprehension. Everything that works magically is incomprehensible, and the incomprehensible often works magically. One calls incomprehensible workings magical. The magical always surrounds me, always involves me. It opens spaces that have no doors and leads out into the open where there is no exit. The magical is good and evil and neither good nor evil. Magic is dangerous since what accords with unreason confuses, allures and provokes; and I am always its first victim.

Where reason abides, one needs no magic. Hence our time no longer needs magic. Only those without reason needed it to replace their lack of reason. But it is thoroughly unreasonable to bring together what suits reason with magic since they have nothing to do with one another. Both become spoiled through being brought together. Therefore all those lacking reason quite rightly fall into superfluity and disregard. A rational man of this time will therefore never use magic. [270]

But it is another thing for whoever has opened the chaos in himself. We need magic to be able to receive or invoke the messenger and the communication of the incomprehensible. We recognized that the world comprises reason and unreason; and we also understood that our way needs not only reason but also unreason. This distinction is arbitrary and depends upon the level of comprehension. But one can be certain that the greater part of the world eludes our understanding. We must value the incomprehensible and unreasonable equally, although they are not necessarily equal in themselves; a part of the incomprehensible, however, is only presently incomprehensible and might already concur with reason tomorrow. But as long as one does not understand it, it remains unreasonable. Insofar as the incomprehensible accords with reason, one may try to think it with success; but insofar as it is unreasonable, / [143/144] one needs magical practices to open it up.

The practice of magic consists in making what is not understood understandable in an incomprehensible manner. The magical way is not arbitrary, since that would be understandable, but it arises from incomprehensible grounds. Besides, to speak of grounds is incorrect, since grounds concur with reason. Nor can one speak of the groundless, since hardly anything further can be said about this. The magical way arises by itself. If one opens up chaos, magic also arises.

One can teach the way that leads to chaos, but one cannot teach magic. One can only remain silent about this, which seems to be the best apprenticeship. This view is confusing, but this is what magic is like. Where reason establishes order and clarity, magic causes disarray and a lack of clarity. [271]One indeed needs reason for the magical translation of the not-understood into the understandable, since only by means of reason can the understandable be created. No one can say how to use reason, but it does arise if one tries to express only what an opening of chaos means. [272]

Magic is a way of living. If one has done one's best to steer the chariot, and one then notices that a greater other is actually steering it, then magical operation takes place. One cannot say what the effect of magic will be, since no one can know it in advance because the magical is the lawless, which occurs without rules and by chance, so to speak. But the condition is that one totally accepts it and does not reject it, in order to transfer everything to the growth of the tree. Stupidity too is part of this, which everyone has a great deal of, and also tastelessness, which is possibly the greatest nuisance.

Thus a certain solitude and isolation are inescapable conditions of life for the well-being of oneself and of the other, otherwise one cannot / [144/145] sufficiently be oneself. A certain slowness of life, which is like a standstill, will be unavoidable. The uncertainty of such a life will most probably be its greatest burden, but still I must unite the two conflicting powers of my soul and keep them together in a true marriage until the end of my life, since the magician is called Image and his wife Image. I hold together what Christ has kept apart in himself and through his example in others, since the more the one half of my being strives toward the good, the more the other half journeys to Hell.

When the month of the Twins had ended, the men said to their shadows: "You are I," since they had previously had their spirit around them as a second person. Thus the two became one, and through this collision the formidable broke out, precisely that spring of consciousness that one calls culture and which lasted until the time of Christ. [273] But the fish indicated the moment when what was united split, according to the eternal law of contrasts, into an underworld and upperworld. If the power of growth begins to cease, then the united falls into its opposites. Christ sent what is beneath to Hell, since it strives toward the good. That had to be. But the separated cannot remain separated forever. It will be united again and the month of the fish will soon be over. [274] We suspect and understand that growth needs both, and hence we keep good and evil close together. Because we know that too far into the good means the same as too far into evil, we keep them both together. [275]

But we thus lose direction and things no longer flow from the mountain to the valley, but grow quietly from the valley to the mountain. That which we can no longer prevent or hide is our fruit. The flowing stream becomes a lake and an ocean / [145/146] that has no outlet, unless its water rises to the sky as steam and falls from the clouds as rain. While the sea is a death, it is also the place of rising. Such is Image , who tends his garden. Our hands have been tied, and each must sit quietly in his place. He rises invisibly and falls as rain on distant lands. [276] The water on the ground is no cloud, which should rain. Only pregnant women can give birth, not those who have yet to conceive. [277]


[HI 146] But what mystery are you intimating to me with your name, Oh Image? Truly you are the lover who once took in the Gods as they wandered the earth when everyone else refused them lodging. You are the one who unsuspectingly gave hospitality to the Gods; they thanked you by transforming your house into a golden temple, while the flood swallowed everyone else. You remained alive when chaos erupted. You it was who served in the sanctuary when the peoples called out in vain to the Gods. Truly, it is the lover who survives. Why did we not see that? And just when did the Gods manifest? Precisely when Image wished to serve the esteemed guests her only goose, that blessed stupidity: the animal fled to the Gods who then revealed themselves to their poor hosts, who had given their last. Thus I saw that the lover survives, and that he is the one who unwittingly grants hospitality to the Gods. [278]

Truly, Oh Image, I did not see that your hut is a temple, and that you, Image, and Image , serve in the sanctuary / [146/147] This magical power allows itself to be neither taught nor learned. Either one has it or does not have it. Now I know your final mystery: you are a lover. You have succeeded in uniting what has been sundered, that is, binding together the Above and Below. Have we not known this for a long time? Yes, we knew it, no, we did not know it. It has always been this way, and yet it has never been thus. Why did I have to wander such long roads before I came to Image, if he was going to teach me what has been common knowledge for ages? Alas, we have known everything since time immemorial and yet we will never know it until it is has been accomplished. Who exhausts the mystery of love?

[HI 147] Under which mask, Oh Image, are you hiding? You did not strike me as a lover. But my eyes were opened, and I saw that you are a lover of your soul, who anxiously and jealously guards its treasure. There are those who love men, and those who love the souls of men, and those who love their own soul. Such a one is Image, the host of the Gods.

You lie in the sun, Oh Image, like a serpent that coils around itself. Your wisdom is the wisdom of serpents, cold, with a grain of poison, yet healing in small doses. Your magic paralyzes and therefore makes strong people, who tear themselves away from themselves. But do they love you, are they thankful, lover of your own soul? Or do they curse you for your magical serpent poison? They keep their distance, shaking their heads and whispering together.

Are you still a man, Image, or / [147/148] is one not a man until one is a lover of one's own soul? You are hospitable, Image, you took the dirty wanderers unsuspectingly into your hut. Your house then became a golden temple, and did I really leave your table unsatisfied? What did you give me? Did you invite me for a meal? You shimmered multicolored and inextricable; nowhere did you give yourself to me as prey. You escaped my grasp. I found you nowhere. Are you still a man? Your kind is far more serpentlike.

I sought to grab hold of you and tear it out of you, since the Christians have learned to devour their God. And how long will it take for what happens to the God also to happen to man? I look into the vast land and hear nothing but wailing and see nothing but men consuming each other.

Oh Image, you are no Christian. You did not let yourself be engorged and did not engorge me. Because of this you have neither lecture halls nor columned halls teeming with students who stand around and speak of the master and soak up his words like the elixir of life. You are no Christian and no pagan, but a hospitable inhospitable one, a host of the Gods, a survivor, an eternal one, the father of all eternal wisdom.

But did I really leave you unsatisfied? No, I left you because I was really satisfied. Yet what did I eat? Your words gave me nothing. Your words left me to myself and my doubt. And so I ate myself. And because of this, Oh Image, you are no Christian, since you nourish yourself from yourself and force men to do the same. This displeases them most, since nothing disgusts the human animal more than itself. Because of this they would rather eat all crawling, hopping, swimming and flying creatures, yes, even their own species, before they nibble at themselves. But this nourishment is effective and one is soon satiated from it. Because of this, Oh Image, we rise satiated from your table.

Your way, Oh Image, is instructive. You leave me in a salutary darkness, where there is nothing for me to either see or look for. You are no light that shines in the darkness, [279] no savior who establishes an eternal truth and thus extinguishes the / [148/149] nocturnal light of human understanding. You leave room for the stupidity and jokes of others. You do not want, Oh blessed one, anything from the other, but instead you tend the flowers in your own garden. He who needs you asks you, and, Oh clever Image, I suppose that you also ask those from whom you need something and that you pay for what you receive. Christ has made men desirous forever since they expect gifts from their saviors without any service in return. Giving is as childish as power. He who gives presumes himself powerful. The virtue of giving is the sky-blue mantle of the tyrant. You are wise, Oh Image, you do not give. You want your garden to bloom, and for everything to grow from within itself.

I praise, Oh Image, your lack of acting like a savior; you are no shepherd who runs after stray sheep, since you believe in the dignity of man, who is not necessarily a sheep. But if he happens to be a sheep, you would leave him the rights and dignity of sheep, since why should sheep be made into men? There are still more than enough men.

You know, Oh Image, the wisdom of things to come; therefore you are old, oh so very ancient, and just as you tower above me in years, so you tower above the present in futurity, and the length of your past is immeasurable. You are legendary and unreachable. You were and will be returning periodically. Your wisdom is invisible, your truth is unknowable, entirely untrue in any given age, and yet true in all eternity, but you pour out living water, from which the flowers of your garden bloom, a starry water, a dew of the night.

What do you need, Oh Image? You need men for the sake of small things, since everything greater and the greatest thing is in you. Christ spoiled men, since he taught them that they can be saved only by one, namely Him, the Son of God, and ever since men have been demanding the greater things from others, especially their salvation; and if a sheep gets lost / [149/150] somewhere, it accuses the shepherd. Oh Image, you are a man, and you prove that men are not sheep, since you look after the greatest in yourself, and hence fructifying water flows into your garden from inexhaustible jugs.


[HI 150] Are you lonely, Oh Image, I see no entourage and no companions around you; Image is only your other half. You live with flowers, trees, and birds, but not with men. Should you not live with men? Are you still a man? Do you want nothing from men? Do you not see how they stand together and concoct rumors and childish fairy tales about you? Do you not want to go to them and say that you are a man and a mortal as they are, and that you want to love them? Oh Image, you laugh? I understand you. Just now I ran into your garden and wanted to tear out of you what I had to understand from within myself.

Oh Image, I understand: immediately I made you into a savior who lets himself be consumed and bound with gifts. That's what men are like, you think; they are all still Christians. But they want even more: they want you as you are, otherwise you would not be to them and they would be inconsolable, if they could find no bearer for their legends. Hence they would also laugh, if you approached them and said you were as mortal as they are and want to love them. If you did that, you would not be Image. They want you, Image, but not another mortal who suffers from the same ills as they do.

I understand you, Oh Image, you are a true / [150/151] lover, since you love your soul for the sake of men, because they need a king who lives from himself and owes no one gratitude for his life. They want to have you thus. You fulfill the wish of the people and you vanish. You are a vessel of fables. You would besmirch yourself if you went to men as a man, since they would all laugh and call you a liar and a swindler, since Image is not a man.

I saw, Oh Image, that crease in your face: you were young once and wanted to be a man among men. But the Christian animals did not love your pagan humanity, since they felt in you what they needed. They always sought the branded one, and when they caught him somewhere in freedom, they locked him in a golden cage and took from him the force of his masculinity, so that he was paralyzed and sat in silence. Then they praise him and devise fables about him. I know, they call this veneration. And if they do not find the true one, they at least have a Pope, whose occupation it is to represent the divine comedy. But the true one always disowns himself, since he knows nothing higher than to be a man.

Are you laughing, Oh Image? I understand you: it irked you to be a man like others. And because you truly loved being human, you voluntarily locked it away so that you could be for men at least what they wanted to have from you. Therefore I see you, Oh Image, not with men, but wholly with flowers, the trees and the birds and all waters flowing and still that do not besmirch your humanity. For you are not Image to the flowers, trees, and birds, but a man. Yet what solitude, what inhumanity! / [151/152]


[HI 152] Why are you laughing, Oh Image, I cannot fathom you. But do I not see the blue air of your garden? What happy shades surround you? Does the sun hatch blue midday specters around you?

Are you laughing, Oh Image? Alas, I understand you: humanity has completely faded for you, but its shadow has arisen for you. How much greater and happier the shadow of humanity is than it is itself! The blue midday shadows of the dead! Alas, there is your humanity, Oh Image, you are a teacher and friend of the dead. They stand sighing in the shade of your house, they live under the branches of your trees. They drink the dew of your tears, they warm themselves at the goodness of your heart, they hunger after the words of your wisdom, which sounds full to them, full of the sounds of life. I saw you, Oh Image, at the noonday hour when the sun stood highest; you stood speaking with a blue shade, blood stuck to its forehead and solemn torment darkened it. I can guess, Oh Image, who your midday guest was. [280] How blind I was, fool that I am! That is you, Oh Image! But who am I! I go my way, shaking my head, and people's looks follow me and I remain silent. Oh despairing silence! / [152/153] [HI 153]


Oh master of the garden! I see your dark tree from afar in the shimmering sun. My street leads to the valleys where men live. I am a wandering beggar. And I remain silent.


Killing off would-be prophets is a gain for the people. If they want murder, then may they kill their false prophets. If the mouth of the Gods remains silent, then each can listen to his own speech. He who loves the people remains silent. If only false teachers teach, the people will kill the false teachers, and will fall into the truth even on the way of their sins. Only after the darkest night will it be day. So cover the lights and remain silent so that the night will become dark and noiseless. The sun rises without our help. Only he who knows the darkest error knows what light is.


Oh master of the garden, your magical grove shone to me from afar. I venerate your deceptive mantle, you father of all will-o'-the-wisps. / [281] [Image I54] [282]


I continue on my way, accompanied by a finely polished piece of steel, hardened in ten fires, stowed safely in my robe. Secretly, I wear chain mail under my coat. Overnight I became fond of serpents, and I solved their riddle. I sit down next to them on the hot stones lying by the wayside. I know how to catch them cunningly and cruelly, those cold devils that prick the heel of the unsuspecting. I became their friend and played a softly toned flute. But I decorate my cave with their dazzling skins. As I walked on my way, I came to a red rock on which a great iridescent serpent lay. Since I had now learned magic from Image, I took out my flute again and played a sweet magical song to make her believe that she was my soul. When she was sufficiently enchanted, / [154/155] [Image 155] [283] {2} [I] [284] I spoke to her: "My sister, my soul, what do you say?" But she spoke, flattered and therefore tolerantly: "I let grass grow over everything that you do."

I: "That sounds comforting and seems not to say much."

S: "Would you like me to say much? I can also be banal, as you know, and let myself be satisfied that way."

I: "That seems hard to me. I believe that you stand in a close connection with everything beyond, / [155/156] [285] with what is greatest and most uncommon. Therefore I thought that banality would be foreign to you."

S: "Banality is my element."

I: "That would be less astonishing if I said it about myself."

S: "The more uncommon you are, the more common I can be. A true respite for me. I think you can sense that I don't need to torment myself today."

I: "I can feel it, and I'm worried that your tree will ultimately bear me no more fruit."

S: "Worried already? Don't be stupid, and let me rest."

I: "I notice that you like being banal. But I do not take you to heart, my dear friend, since I now know you much better than before."

S: "You're getting to be familiar. I'm afraid that you are beginning to lose respect."

I: "Are you upset? I believe that would be uncalled for. I'm sufficiently well-informed about the proximity of pathos and banality."

S: "So, have you noticed that the becoming of the soul follows a serpentine path? Have you seen how soon day becomes night, and night day? How water and dry land change places? And that everything spasmodic is merely destructive?"

I: "I believe that I saw all this. I want to lie in the sun on this warm stone for a while. Perhaps the sun will incubate me."


But the serpent crept up to me quietly and wound herself smoothly around my feet. [286] Evening fell and night came. I spoke to the serpent and said: "I don't know what to say. All pots are on the boil."

[287] S: ''A meal is being prepared."

I: "A Last Supper, I suppose?"

S: "A union with all humanity."

I: "A horrifying, sweet thought: to be both guest and dish at this meal." [288]

S: "That was also Christ's highest pleasure."

"How holy, how sinful, how everything hot and cold flows into one another! Madness and reason want to be married, the lamb and the wolf graze peacefully side by side. [289] It is all yes and no. The opposites embrace each other, see eye to eye, and intermingle. They recognize their oneness in agonizing pleasure. My heart is filled with wild battle. The waves of dark and bright rivers rush together, one crashing over the other. I have never experienced this before."

S: "That is new, my dear one, at least for you."

I: "I suppose you are mocking me. But tears and laughter are one. [290] / [156/157] I no longer feel like either, and I am rigid with tension. Loving reaches up to Heaven and resisting reaches just as high. They are entwined and will not let go of each other, since the excessive tension seems to indicate the ultimate and highest possibility of feeling."

S: "You express yourself emotionally and philosophically. You know that one can say all this much more simply. For example, one can say that you have fallen in love all the way from the worm up to Tristan and Isolde. [291]

I: "Yes, I know; but nonetheless --"

S: "Religion is still tormenting you, it seems? How many shields do you still need? Much better to say it straight out."

I: " You're not tripping me up."

S: "Well, what is it with morality? Have morality and immorality also become one today?"

I: "You're mocking me, my sister and chthonic devil. But I must say that those two that rose up to Heaven entwined are also good and evil. I'm not joking but I groan, because joy and pain sound shrill together."

S: "Where then is your understanding? You've gone utterly stupid. After all, you could resolve everything by thinking."

I: "My understanding? My thinking? I no longer have any understanding. It has grown impervious to me."

S: "You deny everything that you believed. You've completely forgotten who you are. You even deny Faust, who walked calmly past all the specters."

I: ''I'm no longer up to this. My spirit, too, is a specter."

S: "Ah, I see, you follow my teaching."

I: "Unfortunately, that's the case, and it has benefited me with painful joy."

S: "You turn your pain into pleasure. You are twisted, blinded; just suffer, you fool."

I: "This misfortune ought to make me happy."


The serpent now became angry and tried to bite my heart, but my secret armor broke her poisonous fang. [292] She drew back astonished and said hissing: "You actually behave as if you were unfathomable."

I: "That's because I have studied the art of stepping from the left foot onto the right and vice versa, which others have done unthinkingly from time immemorial."

The serpent raised herself again, as if accidentally / [157/158] holding her tail in front of her mouth, so that I should not see the broken fang. Proudly and calmly she said [293]: "So you have finally noticed this?" But I spoke to her smilingly: "The sinuous line of life could not escape me in the long run."


[2] [HI 158] Where is truth and faith? Where is warm trust? You find all this between men but not between men and serpents, even if they are serpent souls. But wherever there is love, the serpentlike abides also. Christ himself compared himself to a serpent, [294] and his hellish brother, the Antichrist, is the old dragon himself. [295] What is beyond the human that appears in love has the nature of the serpent and the bird, and the serpent often enchants the bird, and more rarely the bird bears off the serpent. Man stands in-between. What seems like a bird to you is a serpent to the other, and what seems like a serpent to you is a bird to the other. Therefore you will meet the other only in human form. If you want to become, then a battle between bird and serpent breaks out. And if you only want to be, you will be a man to yourself and to others. He who is becoming belongs in the desert or in a prison, for he is beyond the human. If men want to become, they behave like animals. No one saves us from the evil of becoming, unless we choose to go through Hell.

Why did I behave as if that serpent were my soul? Only, it seems, because my soul was a serpent. This knowledge gave my soul a new face, and I decided henceforth to enchant her myself and subject her to my power. Serpents are wise, and I wanted my serpent soul to communicate her wisdom to me. Never before had life been so doubtful, a night of aimless tension, being one in being directed against one another. Nothing moved, neither God nor the devil. So I approached the serpent that lay in the sun, as if she were unthinking. Her eyes were not visible, since they blinked in the shimmering sunshine, and / [158/160] [Image 159] [296] / {3} [I] I spoke to her [297]: "How will it be, now that God and the devil have become one? Are they in agreement to bring life to a standstill? Does the conflict of opposites belong to the inescapable conditions of life? And does he who recognizes and lives the unity of opposites stand still? He has completely taken the side of actual life, and he no longer acts as if he belonged to one party and had to battle against the other, but he is both and has brought their discord to an end. Through taking this burden from life, has he also taken the force from it?" [298]

The serpent turned and spoke ill-humoredly: "Truly, you pester me. Opposites were certainly an element of life for me. You probably will have noticed this. Your innovations deprive me of this source of power. I can neither lure you with pathos nor annoy you with banality. I am somewhat baffled."

I: "If you are baffled, should I give counsel? I would rather you dive down to the deeper grounds to which you have entry and ask Hades or the heavenly ones, perhaps someone there can give counsel."

S: "You have become imperious."

I: "Necessity is even more imperious than I. I must live and be able to move."

S: "You have the whole wide earth. What do you want to ask the beyond for?"

I: "It isn't curiosity that drives me, but necessity: I will not yield."

S: "I obey, but reluctantly. This style is new and unaccustomed to me."

I: ''I'm sorry, but there is pressing need. Tell the depths that prospects are not looking too good for us, because we have cut off an important organ from life. As you know, I'm not the guilty one, since you have led me carefully along this way."

S: [299] "You might have rejected the apple."

I: "Enough of these jokes. You know that story better than I do. I am serious. We need some air. Be on your way and fetch the fire. It has already been dark around me for too long. Are you sluggish or cowardly?"

S: ''I'm off to work. Take from me what I bring up." [300]


[HI 160] Slowly, the throne of the God ascends into empty space, followed by the holy trinity, all of Heaven, and finally Satan himself. He resists and clings to his beyond. He will not / [160/161] let it go. The upperworld is too chilly for him.

S: "Have you got tight hold of him?" [301]

I: "Welcome, hot thing of darkness! My soul probably pulled you up roughly?"

S: [302] ''Why this noise? I protest against this violent extraction."

I: "Calm down. I didn't expect you. You come last of all. You seem to be the hardest part."

S: "What do you want from me? I don't need you, impertinent fellow."

I: "It's a good thing we have you. You're the liveliest thing in the whole dogma." [303]

S: "What concern is your prattle to me! Make it quick. I'm freezing."

I: "Listen, something has just happened to us: we have united the opposites. Among other things, we have bonded you with God." [304]

S: "For God's sake, why this hopeless fuss? Why such nonsense?"

I: "Please, that wasn't so stupid. This unification is an important principle. We have put a stop to never-ending quarreling, to finally free our hands for real life."


S: "This smells of monism. I have already made note of some of these men. Special chambers have been heated for them."

I: "You're mistaken. Matters are not as rational with us as they seem to be. [305] We have no single correct truth either. Rather, a most remarkable and strange fact has occurred: after the opposites had been united, quite unexpectedly and incomprehensibly nothing further happened. Everything remained in place, peacefully and yet completely motionless, and life turned into a complete standstill."

S: "Yes, you fools, you certainly have made a pretty mess of things."

I: "Well, your mockery is unnecessary. Our intentions were serious."

S: "Your seriousness leads us to suffer. The ordering of the beyond is shaken to its foundations."

I: "So you realize that matters are serious. I want an answer to my question, what should happen under these circumstances? We no longer know what to do."

S: "Well, it is hard to know what to do, and difficult to give advice even if one would like to give it. You are blinded fools, a brashly impertinent people. Why didn't you stay out of trouble? How do you mean to understand the ordering of the world?"

I: "Your ranting suggests that you are quite thoroughly aggrieved. Look, the holy trinity is taking things coolly. It seems not to dislike the innovation."

S: ''Ah, the trinity is so irrational that one / [161/162] can never trust its reactions. I strongly advise you not to take those symbols seriously." [306]

I: "I thank you for this well-meant advice. But you seem to be interested. One would expect you to pass unbiased judgment on account of your proverbial intelligence."

S: "Me, unbiased! You can judge for yourself. If you consider this absoluteness in its completely lifeless equanimity, you can easily discover that the state and standstill produced by your presumptuousness closely resembles the absolute. But if I counsel you, I place myself completely on your side, since you too find this standstill unbearable."

I: "What? You take my side? That is strange."

S: "That's not so strange. The absolute was always adverse to the living. I am still the real master of life."

I: "That is suspicious. Your reaction is far too personal."

S: "My reaction is far from personal. I am utterly restless, quickly hurrying life. I am never contented, never unperturbed. I pull everything down and hastily rebuild. I am ambition, greed for fame, lust for action; I am the fizz of new thoughts and action. The absolute is boring and vegetative."

I: "Alright, I believe you. So -- just what do you advise?"

S: "The best advice I can give you is: revoke your completely harmful innovation as soon as possible."

I: "What would be gained by that? We'd have to start from scratch again and would infallibly reach the same conclusion a second time. What one has grasped once, one cannot intentionally not know again and undo. Your counsel is no counsel."

S: "But could you exist without divisiveness and disunity? You have to get worked up about something, represent a party, overcome opposites, if you want to live."

I: "That does not help. We also see each other in the opposite. We have grown tired of this game."

S: "And so with life."

I: "It seems to me that it depends on what you call life. Your notion of life has to do with climbing up and tearing down, with assertion and doubt, with impatient dragging around, / [162/163] [Image 163] [307] / [163/164] with hasty desire. You lack the absolute and its forbearing patience."

S: "Quite right. My life bubbles and foams and stirs up turbulent waves, it consists of seizing and throwing away, ardent wishing and restlessness. That is life, isn't it?"

I: "But the absolute also lives."

S: "That is no life. It is a standstill or as good as a standstill, or rather: it lives interminably slowly and wastes thousands of years, just like the miserable condition that you have created."

I: "You enlighten me. You are personal life, but the apparent standstill is the forbearing life of eternity, the life of divinity! This time you have counseled me well. I will let you go. Farewell."


[HI 164] Satan crawls deftly like a mole back into his hole again. The symbol of the trinity and its entourage rise up in peace and equanimity to Heaven. I thank you, serpent, for hauling up the right one for me. Everyone understands his words, since they are personal. We can live again, a long life. We can waste thousands of years.


[HI 164/2] [2] Where to begin, oh Gods? In suffering or in joy, or in the mixed feeling lying between? The beginning is always the smallest, it begins in nothing. If I begin there, I see the little drop of "something" that falls into the sea of nothingness. It is forever about beginning again down where the nothingness widens itself to unrestricted freedom. [308] Nothing has happened yet, the world has yet to begin, the sun is not yet born, the watery firmament has not been separated, [309] we have not yet climbed onto the shoulders of our fathers, since our fathers have not yet become. They have only just died and rest in the womb of our bloodthirsty Europe.

We stand in the vastness, wed to the serpent, and consider which stone could be the foundation stone of the building, / [164/165] which we do not yet know. The most ancient? It is suitable as a symbol. We want something graspable. We are weary of the webs that the day weaves and the night unpicks. The devil is probably supposed to create it, that paltry partisan with sham understanding and greedy hands? He emerged from the lump of manure in which the Gods had secured their eggs. I would like to kick the garbage away from me, if the golden seed were not in the vile heart of the misshapen form.

Arise then, son of darkness and stench! How firmly you cling to the rubble and waste of the eternal cesspit! I do not fear you, though I hate you, you brother of everything reprehensible in me. Today, you shall be forged with heavy hammers so that the gold of the Gods will spray out of your body. Your time is over, your years are numbered, and today your day of judgment has gone to smithereens. May your casings burst asunder, with our hands we wish to take hold of your seed, the golden one, and free it from slithery mud. May you freeze, devil, since we will cold-forge you. Steel is harder than ice. You shall fit into our form, you thief of the divine marvel, you mother ape, you who stuff your body with the egg of the Gods and thereby make yourself weighty. Hence we curse you, though not because of you, but for the sake of the golden seed.

What serviceable forms rise from your body, you thieving abyss! These appear as elemental spirits, dressed in wrinkled garb, Cabiri, with delightful misshapen forms, young and yet old, dwarfish, shriveled, unspectacular bearers of secret arts, possessors of ridiculous wisdom, first formations of the unformed gold, worms that crawl from the liberated egg of the Gods, incipient ones, unborn, still invisible. What should your appearance be to us? What new arts do you bear up from the inaccessible treasure chamber, the sun yoke from the egg of the Gods? You still have roots in the soil like plants and you are animal faces / [165/166] of the human body; you are foolishly sweet, uncanny, primordial, and earthly. We cannot grasp your essence, you gnomes, you object-souls.

You have your origin in the lowest. Do you want to become giants, you Tom Thumbs? Do you belong to the followers of the son of the earth? Are you the earthly feet of the Godhead? What do you want? Speak!" [310]


The Cabiri: "We come to greet you as the master of the lower nature."

I: "Are you speaking to me? Am I your master?"

The Cabiri: "You were not, but you are now."

I: "So you declare. And so be it. Yet what should I do with your following?"

The Cabiri: "We carry what is not to be carried from below to above. We are the juices that rise secretly, not by force, but sucked out of inertia and affixed to what is growing. We know the unknown ways and the inexplicable laws of living matter. We carry up what slumbers in the earthly, what is dead and yet enters into the living. We do this slowly and easily, what you do in vain in your human way. We complete what is impossible for you."

I: "What should I leave to you? Which troubles can I transfer to you? What should I not do, and what do you do better?"

The Cabiri: "You forget the lethargy of matter. You want to pull up with your own force what can only rise slowly, ingesting itself, affixed to itself from within. Spare yourself the trouble, or you will disturb our work."

I: "Should I trust you, you untrustworthy ones, you slaves and slave souls? Get to work. Let it be so."
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 10:25 am

PART 2 OF 5 (CH. 21 CONT'D.)


[311] [HI 166] "It seems to me that I gave you a long time. Neither did I descend to you nor did I disturb your work. I lived in the light of day and did the work of the day. What did you do?"

The Cabiri: "We hauled things up, we built. We placed stone upon stone. Now you stand on solid ground."

I: "I feel the ground more solid. I stretch upward."

The Cabiri: "We forged a flashing / [166/167] sword for you, with which you can cut the knot that entangles you."

I: "I take the sword firmly in my hand. I lift it for the blow."

The Cabiri: "We also place before you the devilish, skillfully twined knot that locks and seals you. Strike, only sharpness will cut through it."

I: "Let me see it, the great knot, all wound round! Truly a masterpiece of inscrutable nature, a wily natural tangle of roots grown through one another! Only Mother Nature, the blind weaver, could work such a tangle! A great snarled ball and a thousand small knots, all artfully tied, intertwined, truly, a human brain! Am I seeing straight? What did you do? You set my brain before me! Did you give me a sword so that its flashing sharpness slices through my brain? What were you thinking of?" [312]

The Cabiri: "The womb of nature wove the brain, the womb of the earth gave the iron. So the Mother gave you both: entanglement and severing."

I: "Mysterious! Do you really want to make me the executioner of my own brain?"

The Cabiri: "It befits you as the master of the lower nature. Man is entangled in his brain and the sword is also given to him to cut through the entanglement."

I: "What is the entanglement you speak of?"

The Cabiri: "The entanglement is your madness, the sword is the overcoming of madness." [313]

I: "You offsprings of the devil, who told you that I am mad? You earth spirits, you roots of clay and excrement, are you not yourselves the root fibers of my brain? You polyp-snared rubbish, channels for juice knotted together, parasites upon parasites, all sucked up and deceived, secretly climbing up over one another by night, you deserve the flashing sharpness of my sword. You want to persuade me to cut through you? Are you contemplating self-destruction? How come nature gives birth to creatures that she herself wants to destroy?"

The Cabiri: "Do not hesitate. We need destruction since we ourselves are the entanglement. He who wishes to conquer new land / [167/168] brings down the bridges behind him. Let us not exist anymore. We are the thousand canals in which everything also flows back again into its origin."

I: "Should I sever my own roots? Kill my own people, whose king I am? Should I make my own tree wither? You really are the sons of the devil."

The Cabiri: "Strike, we are servants who want to die for their master."

I: "What will happen if I strike?"

The Cabiri: "Then you will no longer be your brain, but will exist beyond your madness. Do you not see, your madness is your brain, the terrible entanglement and intertwining in the connection of the roots, in the nets of canals, the confusion of fibers. Being engrossed in the brain makes you wild. Strike! He who finds the way rises up over his brain. You are a Tom Thumb in the brain, beyond the brain you gain the form of a giant. We are surely sons of the devil, but did you not forge us out of the hot and dark? So we have something of its nature and of yours. The devil says that everything that exists is also worthy, since it perishes. As sons of the devil we want destruction, but as your creatures we want our own destruction. We want to rise up in you through death. We are roots that suck up from all sides. Now you have everything that you need, therefore chop us up, tear us out."

I: "Will I miss you as servants? As a master I need slaves."

The Cabiri: "The master serves himself."

I: "You ambiguous sons of the devil, these words are your undoing. May my sword strike you, this blow shall be valid forever."

The Cabiri "Woe, woe! What we feared, what we desired, has come to pass."


/ [168/171] [Image 169] / [HI 171] I set foot on new land. Nothing brought up should flow back. No one shall tear down what I have built. My tower is of iron and has no seams. The devil is forged into the foundations. The Cabiri built it and the master builders were sacrificed with the sword on the battlements of the tower. Just as a tower surmounts the summit of a mountain on which it stands, so I stand above my brain, from which I grew. I have become hard and cannot be undone again. No more do I flow back. I am the master of my own self. I admire my mastery. I am strong and beautiful and rich. The vast lands and the blue sky have laid themselves before me and bowed to my mastery. I wait upon no one and no one waits upon me. I serve myself and I myself serve. Therefore I have what I need. [314]

My tower grew for several thousand years, imperishable. It does not sink back. But it can be built over and will be built over. Few grasp my tower, since it stands on a high mountain. But many will see it / [171/172] and not grasp it. Therefore my tower will remain unused. No one scales its smooth walls. No one lands on its pointed roof. Only he who finds the entrance hidden in the mountain and rises up through the labyrinths of the innards can reach the tower, and the happiness of he who surveys things from there and he who lives from himself. This has been attained and created. It has not arisen from a patchwork of human thoughts, but has been forged from the glowing heat of the innards; the Cabiri themselves carried the matter to the mountain and consecrated the building with their own blood as the sole keepers of the mystery of its genesis. I built it out of the lower and upper beyond and not from the surface of the world. Therefore it is new and strange and towers over the plains inhabited by humans. This is the solid and the beginning. [315]


[HI 172] I have united with the serpent of the beyond. I have accepted everything beyond into myself. From this I have built my beginning. When this work was completed, I was pleased, and I felt curious to know what might still lie in my beyond. So I approached my serpent and asked her / [172/173] amiably whether she would not like to creep over to bring me news of what was happening in the beyond. But the serpent was weary and said that she had no liking for this.


{4}[1] [316] I: "I don't want to force anything, but perhaps, who knows? We will still find out something useful." For a while the serpent hesitated, then she disappeared into the depths. Soon I heard her voice: "I believe that I have reached Hell. There is a hanged man here." A plain, ugly man with a contorted face stands before me. He has protruding ears and a hunchback. He said: "I am a poisoner who was condemned to the rope."

I: "What did you do?"

He: "I poisoned my parents and my wife."

I: "Why did you do that?"

He: "To honor God."

I: "What? To honor God? What do you mean by that?"

He: "First of all, everything that happens is for the honor of God, and secondly, I had my own ideas."

I: "What went through your mind?"

He: "I loved them and wanted to transport them more quickly from a wretched life into eternal blessedness. I gave them a strong, too strong a nightcap."

I: "And did this not lead you to find out what your own interest in this was?"

He: "I was now alone and very unhappy: I wanted to live for the sake of my two children, for whom I foresaw a better future. I was in better health than my wife, so / [173/174] I wanted to live."

I: "Did your wife agree to the murders?"

He: "No, she certainly would have consented, but she knew nothing of my intentions. Unfortunately, the murder was discovered and I was condemned to death."

I: "Have you found your relatives again in the beyond?"

He: "That's a strange and unlikely story. I suspect that I'm in Hell. Sometimes it seems as if my wife were here too, and sometimes I'm not sure, just as little as I'm sure of my own self."

I: "What is it like? Tell me."

He: "From time to time, she seems to speak to me and I reply. But we haven't spoken about either the murder or our children until now. We only speak together here and there, and only about trivial things, small matters from our earlier daily life, but completely impersonal, as if we no longer had anything to do with each other. But the true nature of things eludes me. I see even less of my parents; I believe that I have yet to meet my mother. My father was here once and said something about his tobacco pipe, which he had lost somewhere."

I: "But how do you pass your time?"

He: "I believe that there is no time with us, so there is none to spend. Nothing at all happens."

I: "Isn't that / [174/175] extremely boring?"

He: "Boring? I've never thought about it like that. Boring? Perhaps, but there's nothing interesting. In actual fact, it's pretty much all the same."

I: "Doesn't the devil ever torment you?"

He: "The devil? I've seen nothing of him."

I: "You come from the beyond and yet you have nothing to report? I find that hard to believe."

He: "When I still had a body, I often thought that surely it would be interesting to speak to one of the dead. But now the prospect means nothing much to me. As I said, everything here is impersonal and purely matter of fact. As far as I know, that's what they say."

I: "That is bleak. I assume that you are in the deepest Hell."

He: "I don't care. I guess I can go now, can't I? Farewell."

Suddenly he vanished. But I turned to the serpent [317] and said: "What should this boring guest from the beyond mean?"

S: "I met him over there, stumbling around restlessly like so many others. I chose him as the next best. He strikes me as a good example."

I: "But is the beyond so colorless?"

S: "It seems so; there is nothing but motion, when I make my way over there. Everything merely surges back and forth in a shadowy way. There is nothing personal whatsoever."

I: "What is it, then, with this damned personal quality? Satan recently made / [175/176] a strong impression on me, as if he were the quintessence of the personal."

S: "Of course he would, since he is the eternal adversary, and because you can never reconcile personal life with absolute life."

I: "Can't one unite these opposites?"

S: "They are not opposites, but simply differences. Just as little as you make the day the opposite of the year or the bushel the opposite of the cubit."

I: "That's enlightening, but somewhat boring."

S: "As always, when one speaks of the beyond. It goes on withering away, particularly since we have balanced the opposites and married. I believe the dead will soon become extinct."


[HI 176] [2] The devil is the sum of the darkness of human nature. He who lives in the light strives toward being the image of God; he who lives in the dark strives toward being the image of the devil. Because I wanted to live in the light, the sun went out for me when I touched the depths. It was dark and serpentlike. I united myself with it and did not overpower it. I took my part of the humiliation and subjugation upon myself, in that I took on the nature of the serpent.

If I had / [176/177] not become like the serpent, the devil, the quintessence of everything serpentlike, would have held this bit of power over me. This would have given the devil a grip and he would have forced me to make a pact with him just as he also cunningly deceived Faust. [318] But I forestalled him by uniting myself with the serpent, just as a man unites with a woman.

So I took away from the devil the possibility of influence, which only ever passes through one's own serpenthood, [319] which one commonly assigns to the devil instead of oneself. Mephistopheles is Satan, taken with my serpenthood. Satan himself is the quintessence of evil, naked and therefore without seduction, not even clever, but pure negation without convincing force. Thus I resisted his destructive influence and grasped him and fettered him firmly. His descendants served me and I sacrificed them with the sword.

Thus I built a firm structure. Through this I myself gained stability and duration and could withstand the fluctuations of the personal. Therefore the immortal in me is saved. Through drawing the darkness from my beyond over into the day, I emptied my beyond. Therefore the demands of the dead disappeared, as they were satisfied.

/ [177/178] I am no longer threatened by the dead, since I accepted their demands through accepting the serpent. But through this I have also taken over something of the dead into my day. Yet it was necessary, since death is the most enduring of all things, that which can never be canceled out. Death gives me durability and solidity. So long as I wanted to satisfy only my own demands, I was personal and therefore living in the sense of the world. But when I recognized the demands of the dead in me and satisfied them, I gave up my earlier personal striving and the world had to take me for a dead man. For a great cold comes over whoever in the excess of his personal striving has recognized the demands of the dead and seeks to satisfy them.

While he feels as if a mysterious poison has paralyzed the living quality of his personal relations, the voices of the dead remain silent in his beyond; the threat, the fear, and the restlessness cease. For everything that previously lurked hungrily in him no longer lives with him in his day. His life is beautiful and rich, since he is himself.

But whoever always wants only the fortune of others is ugly, since he / [178/179] cripples himself. A murderer is one who wants to force others to blessedness, since he kills his own growth. A fool is one who exterminates his love for the sake of love. Such a one is personal to the other. His beyond is gray and impersonal. He forces himself upon others; therefore he is cursed into forcing himself upon himself in a cold nothingness. He who has recognized the demands of the dead has banished his ugliness to the beyond. He no longer greedily forces himself upon others, but lives alone in beauty and speaks with the dead. But there comes the day when the demands of the dead also are satisfied. If one then still perseveres in solitude, beauty fades into the beyond and the wasteland comes over onto this side. A black stage comes after the white, and Heaven and Hell are forever there. [320]


{5}[I] [HI 179] Now that I had found the beauty in me and with myself, I spoke to my serpent [321]: "I look back as onto a work that has been accomplished."

Serpent: "Nothing is accomplished yet."

I: "What do you mean? Not accomplished?"

Se: "This is only the beginning."

I: "I think you are lying."

Se: "Whom are you quarreling with? Do you know better?"

I: "I know / [179/180] nothing, but I'd already gotten used to the idea that we had reached a goal, at least a temporary one. If even the dead are about to become extinct, what else is going to happen?"

Se: "But then the living must first begin to live."

I: "This remark could certainly be deeply meaningful, but it seems to be nothing but a joke."

Se: "You are getting impertinent. I'm not joking. Life has yet to begin."

I: "What do you mean by life?"

Se: "I say, life has yet to begin. Didn't you feel empty today? Do you call that life?"

I: "What you say is true, but I try to put as good a face as I can on everything and to settle for things."

Se: "That might be quite comfortable. But you really ought to make much higher demands."

I: "That I dread. I will certainly not assume that I could satisfy my own demands, but neither do I think that you are capable of satisfying them. However, it might be that once again I'm not trusting you enough. I suppose that might be so because I've drawn closer to you in human terms and find you so urbane."

Se: "That proves nothing. Just don't assume that somehow you could ever grasp me and embody me."

I: "So, what should it be? I'm ready."

Se: "You are entitled to a reward for / [180/181] what has been accomplished so far."

I: "A sweet thought, that payment could be made for this."

Se: "I give you payment in images. Behold:"


[HI 181] Elijah and Salome! The cycle is completed and the gates of the mysteries have opened again. Elijah leads Salome, the seeing one, by the hand. She blushes and lowers her eyes while lovingly batting her eyelids.

E: "Here, I give you Salome. May she be yours."

I: "For God's sake, what should I do with Salome? I am already married and we are not among the Turks." [322]

E: "You helpless man, how ponderous you are. Is this not a beautiful gift? Is her healing not your doing? Won't you accept her love as the well-deserved payment for your trouble?"

I: "It seems to me a rather strange gift, more burden than joy. I am happy that Salome is thankful to me and loves me. I love her too -- somewhat. Incidentally, the care I afforded her, was, literally, pressed out of me, rather than something I gave freely and intentionally. If my partly unintentional / [181/182] ordeal has had such a good outcome, I'm already completely satisfied."

Salome to Elijah: "Leave him, he is a strange man. Heaven knows what his motives are, but he seems to be serious. I'm not ugly and surely I'm generally desirable."

Salome to me: "Why do you refuse me? I want to be your maid and serve you. I will sing and dance before you, fend off people for you, comfort you when you are sad, laugh with you when you are happy. I will carry all your thoughts in my heart. I will kiss the words that you speak to me. I will pick roses for you each day and all my thoughts will wait upon you and surround you."

I: "I thank you for your love. It is beautiful to hear you speak of love. It is music and old, far-off homesickness. Look, my tears are falling because of your good words. I want to kneel before you and kiss your hands a hundred times, because they want to give me love. You speak so beautifully of love. One can never hear enough of love being spoken."

Sal: "Why only speak? I want to be yours, utterly and completely yours."

I: "You are like the serpent that coiled around me and pressed out my blood." [323] / [182/183] Your sweet words wind around me and I stand like someone crucified."

Sal: "Why still crucified?"

I: "Don't you see that unrelenting necessity has flung me onto the cross? It is impossibility that lames me."

Sal: "Don't you want to break through necessity? Is what you call a necessity really one?" [324]

I: "Listen, I doubt that it is your destiny to belong to me. I do not want to intervene in your utterly singular life, since I can never help you to lead it to an end. And what do you gain if one day I must lay you aside like a worn garment?"

Sal: "Your words are terrible. But I love you so much that I could also lay myself aside when your time has come."

I: "I know that it would be the greatest torment for me to let you go away. But if you can do this for me, I can also do it for you. I would go on without lament, since I have not forgotten the dream where I saw my body lying on sharp needles and a bronze wheel rolling over my breast, crushing it. I must think of this dream whenever I think of love. If it must be, I am ready."

Sal: "I don't want such a sacrifice. I want to bring you joy. Can I not be joy to you?"

I: "I don't know, perhaps, / [183/184] perhaps not."

Sal: "So then at least try."

I: "The attempt is the same as the act. Such attempts are costly."

Sal: "Won't you bear the cost for my sake?"

I: ''I'm rather too weak, too exhausted after what I have suffered because of you, still to be able to undertake further tasks for you. I would be overwhelmed."

Sal: "If you don't want to accept me, then surely I cannot accept you?"

I: "It's not a matter of acceptance; if it's about anything in particular, it's about giving."

Sal: "But I do give myself to you. Just accept me."

I: "As if that would settle the matter! But being entangled with love! Simply thinking about it is dreadful."

Sal: "So you really demand that I be and not be at the same time. That is impossible. What's wrong with you?"

I: "I lack the strength to hoist another fate onto my shoulders. I have enough to carry."

Sal: "But what if I help you bear this load?"

I: "How can you? You'd have to carry me, an untamed burden. Shouldn't I have to carry it myself?"

E: "You speak the truth. May each one carry his load. He who wants to burden others with his baggage is their slave. [325] It is not too difficult for anyone to lug themselves."

Sal: "But father, couldn't I help him bear part of his burden?"

I: "Then he'd be your slave." / [184/185]

Sal: "Or my master and ruler."

I: "That I shall not be. You should be a free being. I can bear neither slaves nor masters. I long for men."

Sal: "Am I not a human being?"

I: "Be your own master and your own slave, do not belong to me but to yourself. Do not bear my burden, but your own. Thus you leave me my human freedom, a thing that's worth more to me than the right of ownership over another person."

Sal: "Are you sending me away?"

I: ''I'm not sending you away. You must not be far from me. But give to me out of your fullness, not your longing. I cannot satisfy your poverty just as you cannot still my longing. If your harvest is rich, send me some fruit from your garden. If you suffer from abundance, I will drink from the brimming horn of your joy. I know that that will be a balm for me. I can satisfy myself only at the table of the satisfied, not at the empty bowls of those who yearn. I will not steal my payment. You possess nothing, so how can you give? Insofar as you give, you demand. Elijah, old man, listen: you have a strange gratitude. Do not give away your daughter, but set her / [185/186] on her own feet. She would like to dance, to sing or play the lute before people, and she would like their flashing coins thrown before her feet. Salome, I thank you for your love. If you really love me, dance before the crowd, please people so that they praise your beauty and your art. And if you have a rich harvest, throw me one of your roses through the window, and if the fount of your joy overflows, dance and sing to me once more. I long for the joy of men, for their fullness and freedom and not their neediness."

Sal: "What a hard and incomprehensible man you are."

E: "You have changed since I last saw you. You speak another language, one that sounds foreign to me."

I: "My dear old man, I'd like to believe that you find me changed. But you too seem to have changed. Where is your serpent?"

E: "She has gone astray. I believe she was stolen. Since then things have been somewhat gloomy with us. Therefore I would have been happy if you had at least accepted my daughter."

I: "I know where your serpent is. I have her. We fetched her from the underworld. She / [186/187] gave me hardness, wisdom, and magical power. We need her in the upperworld, since otherwise the underworld would have had the advantage, to our detriment."

E: "Away with you, accursed robber, may God punish you."

I: "Your curse is powerless. Whoever possesses the serpent cannot be touched by curses. No, be sensible, old man: whoever possesses wisdom is not greedy for power. Only the man who has power declines to use it. Do not cry, Salome, fortune is only what you yourself create and not what comes to you. Be gone, my unhappy friends, the night grows late. Elijah, expunge the false gleam of power from your wisdom, and you, Salome, for the sake of our love, do not forget to dance."


[2] [326] When everything was completed in me, I unexpectedly returned to the mysteries, to that first sight of the otherworldly powers of the spirit and desire. Just as I had achieved pleasure in myself and power over myself, Salome had lost pleasure in herself but learned love for the other, and Elijah had lost the power of his wisdom but he had learned to recognize the spirit of the other. Salome thus lost the power of temptation and has / [187/188] become love. As I have won pleasure in myself, I also want love for myself. But that really would be too much and would bind me like an iron ring that would stifle me. I accepted Salome as pleasure, and reject her as love. But she wants to be with me. How, then, should I also have love for myself? Love, I believe, belongs to others. But my love wants to be with me. I dread it. May the power of my thinking push it from me, into the world, into things, into men. For something should join men together, something should be a bridge. It is the most difficult temptation, if even my love wants me! Mysteries, open your curtains again! I want to wage this battle to its end. Come here, serpent of the dark abyss.

{6} [327] [1] I hear Salome still crying. What does she want, or what do I still want? It's a damnable payment you have given to me, a payment that one cannot touch without sacrifice. One that requires even greater sacrifice once one has touched it.

Serpent: [328] "Do you mean to live without sacrifice? Life must cost you something, mustn't it?"

I: "I have, I believe, already paid. I have rejected Salome. Is that not sacrifice enough?"

Se: "Too little for you. As has been said, you are allowed to make demands of yourself."

I: "You mean well with your damned logic: demanding in sacrifice? That / [188/189] isn't what I understood. My error has obviously been to my own benefit. Tell me, isn't it enough if I force my feeling into the background?"

Se: "You're not forcing your feeling into the background at all; rather it suits you much better not to agonize further over Salome."

I: "If you're speaking the truth, it's quite bad. Is that why Salome is still crying?"

Se: "Yes, it is."

I: "But what is to be done?"

Se: "Oh, you want to act? One can also think."

I: "But what is there to think? I confess that I know nothing to think here. Perhaps you have advice. I have the feeling that I must soar over my own head. I can't do that. What do you think?"

Se: "I think nothing and have no advice either."

I: "So ask the beyond, go to Heaven or Hell, perhaps there is advice there."

Se: "I am being pulled upward."

Then the serpent turned into a small white bird which soared into the clouds where she disappeared. My gaze followed her for a long time. [329]

Bird: "Do you hear me? I'm far off now. Heaven is so far away Hell is much nearer the earth. I found something for you, a discarded crown. It lay on a street in the immeasurable space of Heaven, a golden crown."

And now it already lies in [330] / [189/Draft] my hand, a golden royal crown, with lettering incised within; what does it say? "Love never ends." [331] A gift from Heaven. But what does it mean?

B: "Here I am, are you satisfied?"

I: "Partially -- at any rate I thank you for this meaningful gift. But it is mysterious, and your gift makes me well-nigh suspicious."

B: "But the gift comes from Heaven, you know."

I: "It's certainly very beautiful, but you know very well what we have grasped of Heaven and Hell."

B: "Don't exaggerate. After all, there is a difference between Heaven and Hell. I certainly believe, to judge from what I have seen, that just as little happens in Heaven as in Hell, though probably in another way. Even what does not occur cannot occur in a particular way."

I: "You speak in riddles that could make one ill if one took them to heart. Tell me, what do you make of the crown?"

B: "What do I make of it? Nothing. It truly speaks for itself."

I: "You mean, through the inscription it bears?"

B: "Precisely; I presume that makes sense to you?"

I: "To some extent, I suppose. But that keeps the question awfully in suspense."

B: "Which is how it is meant to be."

Now the bird suddenly turned into the serpent again. [332]

I: "You're unnerving."

Serpent: [333] "Only for him who isn't in agreement with me."

I: "That I am certainly not. But how could one? To hang in the air in such a way is gruesome."

Se: "Is this sacrifice too difficult for you? You must also be able to hang if you want to solve problems. Look at Salome!"

I, to Salome: "I see, Salome, that you are still weeping. You are not yet done for. I hover and curse my hovering. I am hanging for your sake and for mine. First I was crucified, now I'm simply hanging -- which is less noble, but no less agonizing [334]. Forgive me, for wanting to do you in; I thought of saving you as I did when I healed your blindness through my self-sacrifice. Perhaps I must be decapitated a third time for your sake, like your earlier friend John, who brought us the Christ of agony. Are you insatiable? Do you still see no way to become reasonable?"

Sal: "My beloved, what can I do for you? I have utterly forsaken you."

I: "So why are you still crying? You know I can't bear seeing you in tears."

Sal: "I thought that you were invulnerable since you possessed the black serpent rod."

I: "The effect of the rod seems doubtful to me. But in one respect it does help me: at least I do not suffocate, although I have been strung up. The magic rod apparently helps me bear the hanging, surely a gruesome good deed and aid. Don't you at least want to cut the cord?"

Sal: "How can I? You are hanging too high. [335] High on the summit of the tree of life where I cannot reach. Can't you help yourself. you knower of serpent wisdom?"

I: "Must I go on hanging for long?"

Sal: "Until you have devised help for yourself."

I: "So at least tell me what you think of the crown that the bird of my soul fetched for me from Heaven."

Sal: "What are you saying? The crown? You have the crown? Lucky one, what are you complaining about?"

I: "A hanged king would like to change places with every blessed beggar on the country road who has not been hanged."

Sal (ecstatic): "The crown! You have the crown!"

I: "Salome, take pity on me. What is it with the crown?"

Sal (ecstatic): "The crown -- you are to be crowned! What blessedness for me and you!"

I: ''Alas, what do you want with the crown? I can't understand it and I'm suffering unspeakable torment."

Sal (cruelly): "Hang until you understand."


I remain silent and hang high above the ground on the swaying branch of the divine tree, for whose sake the original ancestors could not avoid sin. My hands are bound and I am completely helpless. So I hang for three days and three nights. From where should help come? There sits my bird, the serpent, which has put on her white feather dress.

Bird: "We'll fetch help from the clouds trailing above your head, when nothing else is of help to us."

I: "You want to fetch help from the clouds? How is that possible?"

B: "I will go and try."

The bird swings off like a rising lark, becomes smaller and smaller, and finally disappears in the thick gray veil of clouds covering the sky. My gaze follows her longingly and I make out nothing more than the endless gray cloudy sky above me, impenetrably gray; harmoniously gray and unreadable. But the writing on the crown -- that is legible. "Love never ends" -- does that mean eternal hanging? I was not wrong to be suspicious when my bird brought the crown, the crown of eternal life, the crown of martyrdom -- ominous things that are dangerously ambiguous.

I am weary; weary not only of hanging but of struggling after the immeasurable. The mysterious crown lies far below my feet on the ground, winking gold. I do not hover, no, I hang, or rather worse, I am hanged between sky and earth -- and do not tire of the state of hanging for I could indulge in it forever, but love never ends. Is it really true, shall love never end? If this was a blessed message to them, what is it for me?

"That depends entirely on the notion," an old raven suddenly said, perched on a branch not far from me, awaiting the funeral meal, and immersed in philosophizing.

I: "Why does it depend entirely on the notion?"

Raven: "On your notion of love and the other."

I: "I know, unlucky old bird, you mean heavenly and earthly love. [336] Heavenly love would be utterly beautiful, but we are men, and, precisely because we are men, I've set my mind on being a complete and full-fledged man."

R: "You're an ideologue."

I: "Dumb raven, be gone!" There, very close to my face, a branch moves, a black serpent has coiled itself around it and looks at me with the blinding pearly shimmer of its eyes. Is it not my serpent?

I: "Sister, and black rod of magic, where do you come from? I thought that I saw you fly to Heaven as a bird and now you are here? Do you bring help?"

Serpent: "I am only my own half; I'm not one, but two; I'm the one and the other. I am here only as the serpentlike, the magical. But magic is useless here. I wound myself idly around this branch to await further developments. You can use me in life, but not in hanging. In the worst case, I'm ready to lead you to Hades. I know the way there."

A black form condenses before me out of the air, Satan, with a scornful laugh. He calls to me: "See what comes from the reconciliation of opposites! Recant, and in a flash you'll be down on the greening earth."

I: "I won't recant, I'm not stupid. If such is the outcome of all this, let it be the end."

Se: "Where is your inconsistency? Please remember this important rule of the art of life."

I: "The fact that I'm hanging here is inconsistency enough. I've lived inconsistently ad nauseam. What more do you want?"

Se: "Perhaps inconsistency in the right place?"

I: "Stop it! How should I know what the right and the wrong places are?"

Satan: "Whoever gets on in a sovereign way with the opposites knows left from right."

I: "Be quiet, you're an interested party. If only my white bird came back with help; I fear I'm growing weak."

Se: "Don't be stupid, weakness too is a way; magic makes good the error."

Satan: "What, you've not yet once had the courage of weakness? You want to become a complete man -- are men strong?"

I: "White bird of mine, I suppose you can't find your way back? Did you get up and leave because you couldn't live with me? Ah, Salome! There she comes. Come to me, Salome! Another night has passed. I didn't hear you cry; but I hung and still hang."

Sal: "I haven't cried anymore, for good fortune and misfortune are balanced in me."

I: "My white bird has left and has not yet returned. I know nothing and understand nothing. Does this have to do with the crown? Speak!"

Sal: "What should I say? Ask yourself."

I: "I cannot. My brain is like lead, I can only whimper for help. I have no way of knowing whether everything is falling or standing still. My hope is with my white bird. Oh no, could it be that the bird means the same thing as hanging?"

Satan: "Reconciliation of the opposites! Equal rights for all! Follies!"

I: "I hear a bird chirping! Is that you? Have you come back?"

Bird: "If you love the earth, you are hanged; if you love the sky, you hover."

I: "What is earth? What is sky?"

B: "Everything under you is the earth, everything above you is the sky. You fly if you strive for what is above you; you are hanged if you strive for what is below you."

I: "What is above me? What is beneath me?"

B: "Above you is what is before and over you; beneath you is what comes back under you."

I: "And the crown? Solve the riddle of the crown for me!"

B: "The crown and serpent are opposites, and are one. Did you not see the serpent that crowned the head of the crucified?"

I: "What, I don't understand you."

B: "What words did the crown bring you? "Love never ends" -- that is the mystery of the crown and the serpent."

I: "But Salome? What should happen to Salome?"

B: "You see, Salome is what you are. Fly, and she will grow wings."

The clouds part, the sky is full of the crimson sunset of the completed third day. [337] The sun sinks into the sea, and I glide with it from the top of the tree toward the earth. Softly and peacefully night falls.

[2] Fear has befallen me. Whom did you carry to the mountain, you Cabiri? And whom have I sacrificed in you? You have piled me up yourselves, turning me into a tower on inaccessible crags, turning me into my church, my monastery, my place of execution, my prison. I am locked up and condemned within myself. I am my own priest and congregation, judge and judged, God and human sacrifice.

What a work you have accomplished, Cabiri! You have given birth to a cruel law from the chaos that cannot be revoked. It is understood and accepted.


The completion of the secret operation approaches. What I saw I described in words to the best of my ability. Words are poor, and beauty does not attend them. But is truth beautiful and beauty true? [338]


One can speak in beautiful words about love, but about life? And life stands above love. But love is the inescapable mother of life. Life should never be forced into love, but love into life. May love be subject to torment, but not life. As long as love goes pregnant with life, it should be respected; but if it has given birth to life from itself, it has turned into an empty sheath and expires into transience.

I speak against the mother who bore me. I separate myself from the bearing womb. [339] I speak no more for the sake of love, but for the sake of life.

The word has become heavy for me, and it barely wrestles itself free of the soul. Bronze doors have shut, fires have burned out and sunk into ashes. Wells have been drained and where there were seas there is dry land. My tower stands in the desert. Happy is he who can be a hermit in his own desert. He survives.


Not the power of the flesh, but of love, should be broken for the sake of life, since life stands above love. A man needs his mother until his life has developed. Then he separates from her. And so life needs love until it has developed, then it will cut loose from it. The separation of the child from the mother is difficult, but the separation of life from love is harder. Love seeks to have and to hold, but life wants more.


The beginning of all things is love, but the being of things is life. [340] This distinction is terrible. Why, Oh spirit of the darkest depths, do you force me to say that whoever loves does not live and whoever lives does not love? I always get it backward! Should everything be turned into its opposite? [341] Will there be a sea where Image's temple stands? Will his shady island sink into the deepest ground? Into the whirlpool of the withdrawing flood that earlier swallowed all peoples and lands? Will the bottom of the sea be where Ararat arises? [342]

What repulsive words do you mutter, you mute son of the earth? You want to sever my soul's embrace? You, my son, do you thrust yourself between? Who are you? And who gives you the power? Everything that I strove for, everything I wrested from myself, do you want to reverse it again and destroy it? You are the son of the devil, to whom everything holy is inimical. You grow overpowering. You frighten me. Let me be happy in the embrace of my soul and do not disturb the peace of the temple.

Off with you, you pierce me with paralyzing force. For I do not want your way. Should I languidly fall at your feet? You devil and son of the devil, speak! Your silence is unbearable, and of awful stupidity.

I won my soul, and to what did she give birth for me? You, monster, a son, ha! -- a frightful miscreant, a stammerer, a newt's brain, a primordial lizard! You want to be king of the earth? You want to banish proud free men, bewitch beautiful women, break up castles, rip open the belly of old cathedrals? Dumb thing, a lazy bug-eyed frog that wears pond weed on his skull's pate! And you want to call yourself my son? You're no son of mine, but the spawn of the devil. The father of the devil entered into the womb of my soul and in you has become flesh.

I recognize you, Image, you most cunning of all fraudsters! You have deceived me. You impregnated my maidenly soul with the terrible worm. Image, damned charlatan, you aped the mysteries for me, you lay the mantle of the stars on me, you played a Christ-fool's comedy with me, you hanged me, carefully and ludicrously, in the tree just like Odin, [343] you let me devise runes to enchant Salome -- and meanwhile you procreated my soul with the worm, spew of the dust. Deception upon deception! Terrible devil trickery!

You gave me the force of magic, you crowned me, you clad me with the shimmer of power, that let me play a would-be Joseph father to your son. You lodged a puny basilisk in the nest of the dove.

My soul, you adulterous whore, you became pregnant with this bastard! I am dishonored; I, laughable father of the Antichrist! How I mistrusted you! And how poor was my mistrust, that it could not gauge the magnitude of this infamous act!

What do you break apart? You broke love and life in twain. From this ghastly sundering, the frog and the son of the frog come forth. Ridiculous -- disgusting sight! Irresistible advent! They will sit on the banks of the sweet water and listen to the nocturnal song of the frogs, since their God has been born as a son of frogs.


Where is Salome? Where is the unresolvable question of love? No more questions, my gaze turned to the coming things, and Salome is where I am. The woman follows your strongest, not you. Thus she bears you your children, in both a good and a bad way.


{7}[I] As I stood so alone on the earth, which was covered by rain clouds and falling night, my serpent [344] crept up to me and told me a story:


"Once upon a time there was a king and he had no children. But he would have liked to have a son. So he went to a wise woman who lived as a witch in the forest and confessed all his sins, as if she were a priest appointed by God. To this she said: 'Dear King, you have done what you should not have done. But since it has come to pass, it has come to pass, and we will have to see how you can do it better in the future. Take a pound of otter lard, bury it in the earth, and let nine months pass. Then dig up that place again and see what you find.' So the king went to his house, ashamed and saddened, because he had humiliated himself before the witch in the forest. Yet he listened to her advice, dug a hole in the garden at night, and placed a pot of otter lard in it, which he had obtained with some difficulty. Then he let nine months go by.

''After this time had passed he went again by night to the place where the pot lay buried and dug it up. To his great astonishment, he found a sleeping infant in the pot, though the lard had disappeared. He took out the infant and jubilantly brought it to his wife. She took it immediately to her breast and behold -- her milk flowed freely. And so the child thrived and became great and strong. He grew into a man who was greater and stronger than all others. When the king's son was twenty years old, he came before his father and said: 'I know that you have produced me through sorcery and that I was not born as one of men. You have made me from the repentance of your sins and this has made me strong. I am born from no woman, which makes me clever. I am strong and clever and therefore I demand the crown of the realm from you.' The old king was startled at his son's knowledge, but even more by his impetuous longing for regal power. He remained silent and thought: 'What has produced you? Otter lard. Who bore you? The womb of the earth. I drew you from a pot, a witch humiliated me.' And he decided to let his son be killed secretly.

"But because his son was stronger than others, he feared him and therefore he wanted to take refuge in a trick. He went again to the sorceress in the forest and asked her for advice. She said: 'Dear King, you confess no sin to me this time, because you want to commit a sin. I advise you to bury another pot with otter's lard and leave it to lie in the earth for nine months. Then dig it out again and see what has happened.' The king did what the sorceress advised him. And thenceforth his son became weaker and weaker, and when the king returned to the place where the pot lay after nine months, he could dig his son's grave at the same time. He lay the dead one in the fosse beside the empty pot.

"But the king was saddened, and when he could no longer master his melancholy, he returned yet again to the sorceress one night and asked her for advice. She spoke to him: 'Dear King, you wanted a son, but the son wanted to be king himself and also had the power and cleverness for it, and then you wanted your son no more. Because of this you lost your son. Why are you complaining? You have everything, dear King, that you wanted.' But the king said: 'You are right. I wanted it so. But I did not want this melancholy. Do you have any remedies against remorse?' The sorceress spoke: 'Dear King, go to your son's grave, fill the pot again with otter's lard, and after nine months see what you find in the pot.' The king did this, as he had been commanded, and henceforth he became happy and did not know why.

"When the nine months had passed, he dug out the pot again; the body had disappeared, but in the pot there lay a sleeping infant, and he realized that the infant was his dead son. He took the infant to himself, and henceforth he grew as much in a week as other infants grow in a year. And when twenty weeks had passed, the son came before the father again and claimed his realm. But the father had learned from experience and already knew for a long time how everything would turn out. After the son had voiced his demand, the old king got up from his throne and embraced his son with tears of joy and crowned him king. And so the son, who had thus become king, was grateful to his father and held him in high esteem, as long as his father was granted life."


But I spoke to my serpent: "In truth, my serpent, I didn't know that you are also a teller of fairy tales. So tell me, how should I interpret your fairy tale?"

Se: "Imagine that you are the old king and have a son."

I: "Who is the son?"

Se: "Well, I thought that you had just spoken of a son who doesn't make you very happy."

I: "What? You don't mean -- that I should crown him?"

Se: "Yes, who else?"

I: "That's uncanny. But what about the sorceress?"

Se: "The sorceress is a motherly woman whose son you should be, since you are a child renewing himself in you."

I: "Oh no, will it be impossible for me to be a man?"

Se: "Sufficient manhood, and beyond that fullness of childhood. Which is why you need the mother."

I: ''I'm ashamed to be a child."

Se: ''And thus you kill your son. A creator needs the mother, since you are not a woman."

I: "This is a terrible truth. I thought and hoped that I could be a man in every way."

Se: "You cannot do this for the sake of the son. To create means: mother and child."

I: "The thought that I must remain a child is unbearable."

Se: "For the sake of your son you must be a child and leave him the crown."

I: "The thought that I must remain a child is humiliating and shattering."

Se: ''A salutary antidote against power! [345] Don't resist being a child, otherwise you resist your son, [346] whom you want above all."

I: "It's true, I want the son and survival. But the price for this is high."

Se: "The son stands higher. You are smaller and weaker than the son. That is a bitter truth, but it can't be avoided. Don't be defiant, children must be well-behaved."

I: "Damned scorn!"

Se: "Man of mockery! I'll have patience with you. My wells should flow for you and pour forth the drink of salvation, if all lands parch with thirst and everyone comes to you begging for the water of life. So subject yourself to the son."

I: "Where am I going to take hold of the immeasurable? My knowledge and ability are poor, my power is not enough."

At which the serpent curled up, gathered herself into knots and said: "Do not ask after the morrow, sufficient unto you is the day. You need not worry about the means. Let everything grow, let everything sprout; the son grows out of himself."


[2] The myth commences, the one that need only be lived, not sung, the one that sings itself. I subject myself to the son, the one engendered by sorcery, the unnaturally born, the son of the frogs, who stands at the waterside and speaks with his fathers and listens to their nocturnal singing. Truly he is full of mysteries and superior in strength to all men. No man has produced him, and no woman has given birth to him.

The absurd has entered the age-old mother, and the son has grown in the deepest ground. He sprang up and was put to death. He rose again, was produced anew in the way of sorcery, and grew more swiftly than before. I gave him the crown that unites the separated. And so he unites the separated for me. I gave him the power and thus he commands, since he is superior in strength and cleverness to all others.

I did not give way to him willingly, but out of insight. No man binds Above and Below together. But he who did not grow like a man, and yet has the form of a man, is capable of binding them. My power is paralyzed, but I survive in my son. I set aside my concern that he may master the people. I am solitary, the people rejoice at him. I was powerful, now I am powerless. I was strong, now I am weak. Since then he has taken all the strength into himself. Everything has turned itself upside down for me.

I loved the beauty of the beautiful, the spirit of those rich in spirit, the strength of the strong; I laughed at the stupidity of the stupid, I despised the weakness of the weak, the meanness of the mean, and hated the badness of the bad. But now I must love the beauty of the ugly, the spirit of the foolish, and the strength of the weak. I must admire the stupidity of the clever, must respect the weakness of the strong and the meanness of the generous, and honor the goodness of the bad. Where does that leave mockery, contempt, and hatred?

They went over to the son as a token of power. His mockery is bloody, and how contemptuously his eyes flash! His hatred is a singing fire! Enviable one, you son of the Gods, how can one fail to obey you? He broke me in two, he cut me up. He yokes the separated. Without him I would fall apart, but my life went on with him. My love remained with me.


Thus I entered solitude with a black look on my face, full of resentment and outrage at my son's dominion. How could my son arrogate my power? I went into my gardens and sat down in a lonely spot on rocks by the water, and brooded darkly. I called the serpent, my nocturnal companion, who lay with me on the rocks through many twilights, imparting her serpent wisdom. But then my son emerged from the water, great and powerful, the crown on his head, with a swirling lion's mane, shimmering serpent skin covering his body; he said to me: [347]

{8} [1] "I come to you and demand your life."

I: "What do you mean? Have you even become a God?" [348]

He: "I rise again, I had become flesh, now I return to eternal glitter and shimmer, to the eternal embers of the sun, and leave you your earthliness. You will remain with men. You have been in immortal company long enough. Your work belongs to the earth."

I: "What a speech! Weren't you wallowing in the earth and the underearth?"

He: "I had become man and beast, and now ascend again to my own country."

I: "Where is your country?"

He: "In the light, in the egg, in the sun, in what is innermost and compressed, in the eternal longing embers. So rises the sun in your heart and streams out into the cold world."

I: "How you transfigure yourself!"

He: "I want to vanish from your sight. You ought to live in darkest solitude, men -- not Gods -- should illumine your darkness."

I: "How hard and solemn you are! I'd like to bathe your feet with my tears, dry them with my hair -- I'm raving, am I a woman?"

He: ''Also a woman, also a mother, pregnant. Giving birth awaits you."

I: "Oh holy spirit, grant me a spark of your eternal light!"

He: "You are with child."

I: "I feel the torment and the fear and the desolation of pregnant woman. Do you go from me, my God?"

He: "You have the child."

I: "My soul, do you still exist? You serpent, you frog, you magically produced boy whom my hands buried; you ridiculed, despised, hated one who appeared to me in a foolish form? Woe betide those who have seen their soul and felt it with hands. I am powerless in your hand, my God!"

He: "The pregnant woman belongs to fate. Release me, I rise to the eternal realm."

I: "Will I never hear your voice again? Oh damned deception! What am I asking? You'll talk to me again tomorrow, you'll chat over and over in the mirror."

He: "Do not rail. I will be present and not present. You will hear and not hear me. I will be and not be."

I: "You utter gruesome riddles."

He: "Such is my language and to you I leave the understanding. No one besides you has your God. He is always with you, yet you see him in others, and thus he is never with you. You strive to draw to yourself those who seem to possess your God. You will come to see that they do not possess him, and that you alone have him. Thus you are alone among men -- in the crowd and yet alone. Solitude in multitude -- ponder this."

I: "I suppose I ought to remain silent after what you have said, but I cannot; my heart bleeds when I see you go from me."

He: "Let me go. I shall return to you in renewed form. Do you see the sun, how it sinks red into the mountains? This day's work is accomplished, and a new sun returns. Why are you mourning the sun of today?"

I: "Must night fall?"

He: "Is it not mother of the day?"

I: "Because of this night I want to despair."

He: "Why lament? It is fate. Let me go, my wings grow and the longing toward eternal light swells up powerfully in me. You can no longer stop me. Stop your tears and let me ascend with cries of joy You are a man of the fields, think of your crops. I become light, like the bird that rises up into the skies of morning. Do not stop me, do not complain; already I hover, the cry of life escapes from me. I can no longer hold back my supreme pleasure. I must go up -- it has happened, the last cord tears away, my wings bear me up. I dive up into the sea of light. You who are down there, you distant, twilight being -- you fade from me."

I: "Where have you gone? Something has happened. I am lamed. Has the God not left my sight?"


Where is the God?

What has happened?

How empty, how utterly empty! Should I proclaim to men how you vanished? Should I preach the gospel of godforsaken solitude?

Should we all go into the desert and strew ashes on our heads, since the God has left us?

I believe and accept that the God [349] is something different from me.

He swung high with jubilant joy.

I remain in the night of pain.

No longer with the God, [350] but alone with myself.


Now shut, you bronze doors I opened to the flood of devastation and murder brooding over the peoples, opened so as to midwife the God.

Shut, may mountains bury you and seas flow over you. [351]


I came to my self, [352] a giddy and pitiful figure. My I! I didn't want this fellow as my companion. I found myself with him. I'd prefer a bad woman or a wayward hound, but one's own I -- this horrifies me.

[353] An opus is needed, that one can squander decades on, and do it out of necessity. I must catch up with a piece of the Middle Ages -- within myself. We have only finished the Middle Ages of -- others. I must begin early, in that period when the hermits died out. [354] Asceticism, inquisition, torture are close at hand and impose themselves. The barbarian requires barbaric means of education. My I, you are a barbarian. I want to live with you, therefore I will carry you through an utterly medieval Hell, until you are capable of making living with you bearable. You should be the vessel and womb of life, therefore I shall purify you.

The touchstone is being alone with oneself.

This is the way. [355]
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 10:27 am

PART 3 OF 5 (CH. 21 CONT'D.)



1. The Handwritten Draft has: "The Adventures of the Wandering" (p. 353).

2. In his essay on Picasso in 1932, Jung described the paintings of schizophrenics -- meaning here only those in which a psychic disturbance would probably produce schizoid symptoms, rather than people who suffered from this condition -- as follows: "From a purely formal point of view, the main characteristic is one of fragmentation, which expresses itself in the so-called lines of fracture, that is, a type of psychic fissure which runs right through the picture" (CW 15, §208).

3. These passages in Latin from the Bible were cited by Jung in Types (1921) (from Luther's Bible) and introduced with the following comments: "The form in which Christ presented the content of his unconscious to the world became accepted and was declared valid for all. Thereafter all individual fantasies became otiose and worthless, and were persecuted as heretical, as the fate of the Gnostic movement and of all later heresies testifies. The prophet Jeremiah is speaking just in this vein when he warns" (CW 6, §81).

4. The Corrected Draft has: "V The Great Wandering I. The Red One" (p. 157).

5. This depicts Jung in the opening scene of this fantasy.

6. The previous paragraph was added in the Draft (p. 167).

7. December 26, 1913.

8. Salerno is a town in southwest Italy, founded by the Romans. Jung may have been referring to the Academia Segreta, which was established in the 1540s and promoted alchemy.

9. The Sophists were Greek philosophers in the fourth and fifth centuries BCE, centered in Athens, and included figures such as Protagoras, Gorgias, and Hippias. They gave lectures and took on students for fees, and paid particular attention to teaching rhetoric. Plato's attack in a number of dialogues gave rise to the modern negative connotation of the term as one who plays with words.

10. The Draft continues: "No one can flout the spiritual development of many centuries and reap what they have not sowed" (p. 172).

11. In Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Zarathustra admonishes the overcoming of the spirit of gravity, and urges "You Higher Men, the worst thing about you is: none of you has learned to dance as a man ought to dance -- to dance beyond yourselves!" ("Of the higher men," p. 306).

12. In a seminar in 1939, Jung discussed the historical transformation of the figure of the devil. He noted that "When he appears red, he is of a fiery, that is, passionate nature, and causes wantonness, hate, or unruly love"; see Children's Dreams: Notes from the Seminar Given in 1936-1940, eds. Lorenz Jung and Maria Meyer-Grass, tr. Ernst Falzeder and Tony Woolfson (Princeton: Princeton University Press/Philemon Series, 2008), p. 174.

13. The Draft continues: "You have heard from Faust about how commanding this kind of joy is" (p. 175). The reference is to Goethe's Faust.

14. The Draft has: "As you have known from Faust, there are many who forget who they were because they let themselves be swept away" (p. 175).

15. Jung elaborated this point in 1928 while presenting the method of active imagination: "As against this, the scientific credo of our time has developed a superstitious phobia about fantasy. But the real is what works. The fantasies of the unconscious work -- there can be no doubt about that" (The Relations between the I and the Unconscious, CW 7. §353).

16. The Draft continues: "Every attentive person knows their Hell, but not all know their devil. There are not only joyful devils, but also sad ones" (p. 178).

17. The Draft continues: "On a later adventure I discovered how seriousness suits the devil. While seriousness certainly makes him more dangerous for you, it doesn't agree with him, believe me" (pp. 178-79).

18. The Draft continues: "With this newly gained joy I took off on adventures without knowing where the way would lead. I could have known, however, that the devil always tempts us first through women. While I might have had clever thoughts as a thinker, it was not so in life. There I was even fatuous and prejudiced. And so quite ready to be caught in a fox trap" 179).

19. The Handwritten Draft has: "Second Adventure" (p. 383).

20. December 28, 1913.

21. Dante's Inferno begins with the poet getting lost in a dark wood. There is a slip of paper in Jung's copy by this page.

22. In "Wish fulfillment and symbolism in fairy tales" (1908), Jung's colleague Franz Riklin argued that fairy tales were the spontaneous inventions of the primitive human soul and the general tendency to wishfulfilment (tr. W A. White, The Psychoanalytic Review [1913], p. 95.) In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido, Jung viewed fairy tales and myths alike as representing primordial images. In his later work, he viewed them as expressions of archetypes, as in "On the archetypes of the collective unconscious" (CW 9, 1, §6). Jung's pupil Marie-Louise von Franz developed the psychological interpretation of fairy tales in a series of works. See her The Interpretation of Fairy Tales (Boston: Shambala, 1996).

23. In "On the psychological aspects of the Kore figure" (1951), Jung described this episode as follows: "A lonely house in a wood, where an old scholar is living. Suddenly his daughter appears, a kind of ghost, complaining that people always only consider her as a fantasy" (CW 9, 1, §361). Jung commented (following his remarks concerning the Elijah and Salome episode above, note 212, p. 69) "Dream iii. presents the same theme, but on a more fairy tale-like plane. The anima is here characterized as a ghostly being" (ibid., §373).

24. The Draft continues: "My friend, you learn nothing about my outer visible life. You only hear about my inner life, the counterpart of my outer life. If you therefore think that I have but my inner life and that is my only life, then you are mistaken. For you must know that your inner life does not become richer at the expense of your outer one, but poorer. If you do not live on the outside, you will not become richer within, but merely more burdened. This is not to your advantage and it is the beginning of evil. Likewise, your outer life will not become richer and more beautiful at the expense of your inner one, but only poorer and poorer. Balance finds the way" (p. 188).

25. The Draft continues: "I returned to my middle ages where I was still romantic, and there I experienced the adventure" (p. 190).

26. In 1921 in Psychological Types, Jung wrote: "A very feminine woman has a masculine soul, and a very masculine man has a feminine soul. The contrast is due to the fact that for example a man is not in all things wholly masculine, but also normally has certain feminine traits. The more masculine his outer attitude is, the more his feminine traits are obliterated: instead, they appear in the unconscious" (CW 6, §804). He designated the man's feminine soul as the anima, and the woman's masculine soul as the animus, and described how individuals projected their soul images onto members of the opposite sex (§ 805).

27. For Jung, the integration of the anima for the man and of the animus for the woman was necessary for the development of the personality. In 1928, he described this process, which required withdrawing the projections from members of the opposite sex, differentiating from them, and becoming conscious of them in The Relations between the I and the Unconscious, part 2, ch. 2, CW 7. §296ff. See also Aion (1951), CW 9, 2, §20ff

28. Instead of this phrase, the Corrected Draft has: "But if he accepts the feminine in himself, he frees himself from slavery to woman" (p. 178).

29. Albrecht Dieterich noted: "Often enough popular belief deems the soul a bird from the start" (Abraxas. Studien zur Religionsgeschichte des spatern Altertums [Leipzig, 1891], p. 184).

30. The Draft and Corrected Draft have: "Inasmuch I was this old man, buried in books and barren science, just and appraising, wresting grains of sand from the infinite desert, my [self] so called soul, namely my inner self, suffered greatly" (p. 180).

31. Human, All Too Human was the title of a work of Nietzsche's, published in three installments from 1878. He described psychological observation as the reflection on the "human, all too human" (tr. R. J. Hollingdale [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996], p. 31).

32. In October 1916, in his talk before the Psychological Club on "Individuation and Collectivity," Jung noted that through individuation, "the individual must now consolidate himself by cutting himself off from the divine and become wholly himself. Thereby and at the same time he also separates himself from society. Outwardly he plunges into solitude, but inwardly into hell, distance from God" (CW 18, §1103).

33. In Dante's Commedia, Hell has nine levels.

34. The Handwritten Draft has: "Third Adventure" (p. 440). The Corrected Draft has "The Rogue," which is then covered over with paper (p. 186).

35. December 29, 1913.

36. The emblem of the city of Zurich bears this motif, showing the late-third-century martyrs Felix, Regula, and Exuperantius.

37. This appears to be a reference to Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in Daniel 3, whom Nebuchadnezzar ordered to be placed into a furnace for refusing to worship the golden idol that he had erected. They were unscathed by the fire, which led Nebuchadnezzar to decree that he would cut up anyone who henceforth spoke against their God.

38. The Acta Sanctorum is a collection of the lives and legends of the saints arranged according to their feast days. Published by Jesuits in Belgium known as the Bollandist Fathers, it began in 1643 and ran to sixty-three folio volumes.

39. In Wilhelm Tell (1805), Friedrich Schiller dramatized the revolt of the Swiss cantons against the rule of the Austrian Habsburg empire at the beginning of the fourteenth century, which led to the founding of the Swiss confederation. In act 4, scene 3, Wilhelm Tell kills Gessler, the imperial representative. Stussi, the ranger, announces, 'The tyrant of the land is dead. From now henceforth we suffer no oppression. We are free men" (tr. W Mainland [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1973], p. 119).

40. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), Jung cited beliefs in different cultures that the moon was the gathering place of departed souls (CW B, §496). In Mysterium Coniunctionis (1955/56), Jung commented on this motif in alchemy (CW 14, §155).

Mention has been made of the stragglers of various Periods who in later Periods were enabled to take a step upward in evolution. There were some, however, who did not take this step. They did not evolve, and were therefore left further and further behind, until they became a drag and a hindrance to the progressive ones. It became necessary to get them out of the way, that the evolution of the others might not be retarded.

In the beginning of the Lemurian Epoch, these "failures" (note that they were failures, not merely stragglers) had crystallized that part of the Earth occupied by them to such a degree that it become as a huge cinder or clinker, in the otherwise soft and fiery Earth. They were a hindrance and an obstruction, so they, with the part of the Earth they had crystallized, were thrown out into space beyond recall. That is the genesis of the Moon....

[In the Lemurian Epoch] the Lords of Form vivified the Human spirit in as many of the stragglers of the Moon Period as had made the necessary progress in the three and one half Revolutions which had elapsed since the commencement of the Earth Period, but at that time the Lords of Mind could not give them the germ of Mind. Thus a great part of nascent humanity was left without this link between the threefold spirit and the threefold body....

When a planet has Moons, it indicates that there are some beings in the life wave evolving on that planet who are too backward to share in the evolution of the main life wave, and they have therefore been sent out from the planet to prevent them from hindering the progress of the pioneers. Such is the case with the beings inhabiting our Moon. In the case of Jupiter it is thought probable that the inhabitants of three of its moons will eventually be able to rejoin the life on the parent planet, but it is thought that at least one of the others is an eighth sphere, like our own Moon, where retrogression and disintegration of the already acquired vehicle will result from too close adherence to material existence upon the part of the evolving beings who have brought themselves to that deplorable end.... When laggards inhabiting a Moon have retrieved their position and returned to the parent planet; or, when continued retrogression has caused complete disintegration of their vehicles, the abandoned Moon also commences to dissolve....The expulsion of these cinder-like dead worlds is analogous to the manner in which hard and foreign bodies imbedded in the human system make their way through the flesh to the skin.

-- The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception, by Max Heindel

41. The Draft continues: "I accepted the rogue, and lived and died with him. Since I lived him, I became his murderer, since we kill what we live" (p. 217).

42. The Corrected Draft continues: "from death" 200).

43. (First Day.) The Handwritten Draft has: Adventure: First Day" (p. 476). The Corrected Draft has: "Dies I. Evening" (p. 201).

44. December 30, 1913. In Black Book 3, Jung noted: "All kinds of things lead me far away from my scientific endeavor, which I thought I had subscribed to firmly. I wanted to serve humanity through it, and now, my soul, you lead me to these new things. Yes, it is the in-between world, the pathless, the manifold-dazzling. I forgot that I had reached a new world, which had been alien to me previously. I see neither way nor path. What I believed about the soul has to become true here, namely that she knows her own way better, and that no intention can prescribe her a better one. I feel that a large chunk of science has been broken off. I suppose it must be like this, for the sake of the soul and her life. I find the thought that this must occur only for me agonizing, and that perhaps no one will gain insight from my work. But my soul demands this achievement. I should be able to do this just for myself without hope -- for the sake of God. This is truly a hard way. But what else did those anchorites of the first centuries of Christianity do? And were they the worst or least capable of those living at the end? Hardly; since they came to the most relentless conclusions with regard to the psychological necessity of their time. They left wife and child, wealth, glory and science -- and turned toward the desert -- for God's sake. So be it" (pp. 1-2).

45. In the next chapter, the anchorite is identified as Ammonius. In a letter of December 31, 1913, Jung noted that the anchorite came from the third century (JFA). There are three historical figures named Ammonius in Alexandria from this period: Ammonius, a Christian philosopher in the third century, once thought to have been responsible for the medieval divisions of the gospels; Ammonius Cerus, who was born a Christian but turned to Greek philosophy and whose work presents a transition from Platonism to Neoplatonism; a Neoplatonic Ammonius in the fifth century; who tried to reconcile Aristotle and the Bible. At Alexandria, there was accommodation between Neoplatonism and Christianity; and some of the pupils of the latter Ammonius converted to Christianity.

46. Philo Judeaus. also called Philo of Alexandria (20 BCE-50 CE), was a Greek-speaking Jewish philosopher. His works presented a fusion of Greek philosophy and Judaism. For Philo, God, to whom he referred by the Platonic term "To On" (the One), was transcendent and unknowable. Certain powers reached down from God to the world. The facet of God knowable through reason is the divine Logos. There has been much debate on the precise relation between Philo's concept of the Logos and John's gospel. On June 23, 1954, Jung wrote to James Kirsch, "The gnosis from which John the Evangelist emanated, is definitely Jewish, but its essence is Hellenistic, in the style of Philo Judaeus, the founder of the teachings of the Logos" (JA).

47. In 1957, Jung wrote: "Until now it has not truly and fundamentally been noted that our time, despite the prevalence of irreligiosity, is so to speak congenitally charged with the attainment of the Christian epoch, namely with the supremacy of the word, that Logos which the central figure of Christian faith represents. The word has literally become our God and has remained so" (Present and Future, CW 10, §554).

48. John 1:1-10: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not."

49. John 1:14: ''And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father), full of grace and truth."

50. The Draft has: "Egyptian" (p. 227). In an Egyptian context, the water, dates, and bread would be offerings to the dead.

51. The Draft continues: "Walking around in a circle I happen to return to myself and to him, the solitary one, who lives down in the depths hidden from the light, held securely by the warm bosom of the rock, above him the glowing desert and sharp resplendent skies" (p. 229).

52. Latin for "whole."

53 The Draft has "to you," and the Corrected Draft has "to me" (p. 232). Throughout this section, the Corrected Draft substitutes "to me" for "to you," and "I" for "you" (p. 214).

54. In 1940, Jung commented on protective word magic ("Transformation symbolism in the mass," CW II, §442).

55 See note 48, above.

56. The Corrected Draft has "(The Anchorite). Second Day. Morning" (p. 219).

57. In "The Philosophical Tree" (1945), Jung noted: ''A man who is rooted below as well as above is sort of like an upright and inverted tree. The goal is not the heights but the center" (CW 13, §333). He also commented on "The inverted tree" (§410f).

58. January 1, 1914.

59. In Greek mythology, Helios was the sun God, and he drove a chariot led by four horses across the sky.

60. During this period, Jung was engaged with the study of Gnostic texts, in which he found historical parallels to his own experiences. See Alfred Ribi, Die Suche nach den eigenen Wurzeln: Die Bedeutung von Gnosis, Hermetik und Alchemie fur C. G. Jung und Marie-Louise von Franz und deren Einffuss auf das moderne Verstandnis dieser Disziplin (Bern: Peter Lang, 1999).

61. In Synchronicity as a Principle of Acausal Connection (1952), Jung wrote: "The scarab is a classical rebirth symbol. According to the description in the ancient Egyptian book Am-Tuat, the dead sun God transforms himself at the tenth station into Khepri, the scarab, and as such mounts the barge at the twelfth station, which raises the rejuvenated sun into the morning sky." (CW 8, §843).

62. Osiris was the Egyptian God of life, death, and fertility. Seth was the God of the desert. Osiris was murdered and dismembered by his brother Seth. Osiris's body was recovered and put back together by his wife, Isis, and he was resurrected. Jung discussed Osiris and Seth in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912) (CW B, §358 f).

63. Horus, Osiris's son, was the Egyptian God of the sky. He fought against Seth.

64. The Corrected Draft continues: "and I am unreal to myself as in a dream" (p. 228). Christian anchorites were perpetually on guard against the appearance of Satan. A famous example of temptations by the devil occurs in Athanasius's life of St. Anthony. In 1921 Jung noted that St. Anthony warned his monks "how cleverly the Devil disguised himself in order to bring holy men to their downfall. The Devil is naturally the voice of the anchorite's own unconscious, that rises up against the forcible suppression of his nature" (Psychological Types, CW 6, §82). St. Anthony's experiences were elaborated by Flaubert in his Temptation of Anthony, a work with which Jung was familiar (Psychology and Alchemy, CW 12, §59).

65. An inversion of Aristotle's definition of man as the "rational animal."

66. See Jung's description of the Pleroma, p. 347, below.

67. The Draft and Corrected Draft continue: "But I saw solitude and its beauty, and I seized the life of the inanimate and the meaning of the meaningless. I also understood this side of my manifoldness. And thus my tree grew in the solitude and quiet, eating the earth with roots reaching far down and drinking the sun with branches reaching [Thus I wandered, following the nature of the water]. The solitude grew and extended around me. I did not know how unlimited the solitude was, and I wandered and looked. I wanted to fathom the depths of solitude and I went so far until every last sound of life died" (p. 235).

68. The Handwritten Draft has: "Fifth Adventure: Death" (p. 557 ).

69. January 2, 1914.

70. Cf. the vision in Liber Primus, ch. 5, "Descent into Hell in the Future," p. 241.

71. In 1940 Jung wrote: "Evil is relative, partly avoidable, partly fate; the same goes for virtue and one often does not know which is worst" ("Attempt at a psychological interpretation of the dogma of the trinity," CW 11, §291).

72. In the Corrected Draft, this sentence is replaced with: "Evil is one-half of the world, one of the two pans of the scale" (p. 242).

73. The Draft continues: "In this bloody battle death steps up to you, just like today where mass killing and dying fill the world. The coldness of death penetrates you. When I froze to death in my solitude, I saw clearly and saw what was to come, as clearly as I could see the stars and the distant mountains on a frosty night" (p. 260).

74. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), Jung had argued that the libido was not only a Schopenhauerian life urge, but contained the contrary striving toward death within itself (CW B, §696).

75. The Draft continues: "To live what is right and to let what is false die, that is the art of life" (p. 261). In 1934 Jung wrote: "Life is an energetic process like any other. But every energetic process is in principle irreversible and therefore unequivocally directed toward a goal, and the goal is the state of rest ... From the middle of life, only he who is willing to die with life remains living. Since what takes place in the secret hour of life's midday is the reversal of the parabola, the birth of death ... Not wanting to live is identical with not wanting to die. Becoming and passing away is the same curve" ("Soul and death," CW 8, §800). See my "'The boundless expanse': Jung's reflections on life and death," Quadrant: Journal of the C. G. Jung Foundation for Analytical Psychology 38 (2008), pp. 9-32.

76. See above, note 20, p. 231.

77. A reference to the vision above.

78. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), Jung commented on the motif of the wounded heel (CW B. §461).

79. "We are born between faeces and urine," a saying widely attributed to St. Augustine, among others.

80. The Handwritten Draft has instead: "Sixth Adventure" (p. 586). The Corrected Draft has instead: "6. Degenerate Ideals" (p. 247).

81. The mosaic form resembles the mosaics at Ravenna, which Jung visited in 1913 and 1914, and which made a lasting impression on him.

82. January 5, 1914.

83. "Be gone, Satan" -- a common expression in the Middle Ages.

84. The Hyperboreans were a race in Greek mythology who lived in a land of sunshine beyond the north wind, worshiping Apollo. Nietzsche referred on several occasions to the free spirits as Hyperboreans. The Antichrist. §I (Twilight of the Idols/The Antichrist, tr. R. Hollingdale [London: Penguin, 1990], p. 127).

85. A reference to Genesis 2:18: ''And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him." There is one reference to a Philetus in the Bible. 2 Timothy 2:16-18: "But shun profane and vain babblings: for they will increase unto more ungodliness. And their word will eat as doth a canker: of whom is Hymenaeus and Philetus; Who concerning the truth have erred, saying that the resurrection is past already; and overthrow the faith of some."

86. In Chronicles 1:15, David dances before the ark of the covenant.

87. The Corrected Draft has "the wisdom" instead of "the deepest knowledge" (p. 251).

88. The Draft and Corrected Draft have: "I had become a victim of my sanctuaries and beauties, and so I died miserable and depressed [therefore death came to me]" (p. 254).

89. In Persia, the crushed petals of rose were steam-distilled to make rose oil, from which perfumes were made.

90. In 1926, Jung wrote: "The transition from morning to afternoon is a transvaluation of earlier values. From this comes the necessity to appreciate the value of the opposite of our former ideals, to recognize the error in former truth and to feel how much antagonism and even hatred lay in what had formerly passed for love for us" (The Unconscious in Normal and Sick Psychic Life, CW 7. §115).

91. The Corrected Draft has: "green creature" (p. 255).

92. The Corrected Draft has: "my" (p. 257).

93. The Corrected Draft has: "me" (p. 257).

94. The Corrected Draft continues: "like a chameleon" (p. 258). A passage occurs here in the Draft, a paraphrase of which follows: It is our chameleon nature that forces us through these transformations. So long as we are chameleons, we need an annual journey in the bath of rebirth. Therefore I looked at the outdating of my ideals with horror, since I loved my natural greenness and mistrusted my chameleon skin, which changed colors according to the environment. The chameleon does this cleverly. One calls this change a progress through rebirth. So you experience 777 rebirths. The Buddha did not need quite so long to see that even rebirths are vain (pp. 275-76). There was a belief that the soul had to go through 777 reincarnations (Ernest Woods, The New Theosophy [Wheaton, IL: The Theosophical Press, 1929], p. 41).

95. The Draft has instead: "my ideal survival" (p. 277).

96. Image legend: "This image was printed on Christmas 1915." The depiction of Izdubar strongly resembles an illustration of him in Wilhelm Roscher's Ausfuhrliches Lexikon der Griechischen und Romischen Mythologie, of which Jung possessed a copy ([Leipzig: Teubner, 1884-1937], vol. 2. p. 775). Izdubar was an early name given the figure now known as Gilgamesh. This was based on a mistranscription. In 1906 Peter Jensen noted: "It has now been established that Gilgamesch is the chief protagonist of the epic, and not Gistchubar or Izdubar as assumed previously" (Das Gilgamesch-Epos in der Weltliteratur [Strassburg: Karl Triibner, 1906], p. 2). Jung had discussed the Gilgamesh epic in 1912 in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido, using the corrected form, and cited Jensen's work several times.

97. The Handwritten Draft has instead: "Seventh Adventure. First Day" (p. 626). The Corrected Draft has instead: "7. The Great Encounter. First Day. The Hero from the East" (p. 262).

98. January 8, 1914.

99. In Egyptian mythology, the Western lands (the Western bank of the Nile) were the land of the dead.

100. In The Gay Science, Nietzsche argued that thinking originated through the cultivation and uniting of several impulses which had the effect of poisons: the impulse to doubt, to negate, to wait, to collect, and to dissolve ("On the doctrine of poisons," tr. Walter Kaufmann [New York: Vintage, 1974] book 3, section 113).

101. In Babylonian mythology, Tiamat, the mother of the Gods, waged war with an army of demons.

102. The issue of the relation of science to belief was critical in Jung's psychology of religion. See "Psychology and religion" (1938), CW 11.

103. The Draft continues: "This is what I saw in the dream" (p. 295).

104. See Liber Secundus, ch. 4, p. 268f.

105. In Psychological Types (1921), Jung considered thinking and feeling to be the rational functions (CW6, §731).

106. The Draft continues: "As David, you may slay him, Goliath, with a cunning and impudent slingshot" (p. 299). In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (CW B, §383f), Jung discussed the Babylonian creation myth in which Marduk, the God of spring, battles with Tiamat and her army. Marduk slayed Tiamat, and from this he created the world. Thus "the mighty huntsman" corresponds to Marduk.

107. St. Sebastian was a Christian martyr persecuted by the Romans who lived in the third century. He was often depicted tied to a tree and shot with arrows. The earliest such representation is in the Basilica Sant'Apollinaire Nuova in Ravenna.

108. This refers to Hebrews 10:31: "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

109. This refers to Jacob's wrestling with the angel in Genesis 32:24-29: "And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he prevailed not against him. he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. And he said unto him, What is thy name? And he said, Jacob. And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed. And Jacob asked him, and said, Tell me, I pray thee, thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name? And he blessed him there."

110. Image legend: "Arthava-veda 4,1,4." Arthava-veda 4.1,4 is a charm to promote virility: "Thee, the plant, which the Gandharva dug up for Varuna, when his virility had decayed, thee, that causest strength, we dig up. / Ushas (Aurora), Surya (the sun), and this charm of mine; the bull Pragapati (the lord of creatures) shall with his lusty fire arouse him! / This herb shall make thee so very full of lusty strength, that thou shalt, when thou art excited, exhale heat as a thing on fire! / The fire of the plants, and the essence of the bulls shall arouse him! Do thou, O Indra, controller of bodies, place the lusty force of men into this person! /Thou (O herb) art the first-born sap of the waters and also of the plants. Moreover thou art the brother of Soma, and the lusty force of the antelope buck! / Now, O Agni, now, O Savitar, now, O goddess Sarasvati, now, O Brahmanaspati, do thou stiffen the pasas as a bow! / I stiffen thy pasas as a bowstring upon the bow. Embrace thou (women) as the antelope buck the gazelle with ever unfailing (strength)! /The strength of the horse, the mule, the goat and the ram, moreover the strength of the bull bestow upon him, O controller of bodies (Indra)!" (Sacred Books of the East 42, p. 31-32. The connection is to the healing of Izdubar, the wounded bull God.

111. The Handwritten Draft has instead: "I have slept little; unclear dreams upset me more than they have prompted the redeeming word" (p. 686).

112. January 9, 1914.

113. The Draft continues: "thus spoke another voice in me, like an echo" (p. 309).

114. This refers to a scene in the text describing how Jung reduced Izdubar to the size of an egg so he could secretly carry Izdubar into the house and enable his healing. Jung said to Aniela Jaffe concerning these sections that some of the fantasies were driven by fear, such as the chapter on the devil and the chapter on Gilgamesh-Izdubar. From one perspective it was stupid that he had to find a way to help the giant, but he felt that if he didn't do so, he would have failed. He paid for the ridiculous solution through realizing that he had captured a God. Many of these fantasies were a hellish combination of the sublime and the ridiculous. (MP, p. 147-48).

115. In the Draft, this sentence reads: "Like many other Gods and on numerous previous occasions, the God was declared to be a fantasy, and it was thus assumed that he had been dealt with" (p. 314).

116. The Draft continues: "We men apparently believed that there is no such thing as a fantasy, and if we declared something to be fantastic, then it would be well and truly destroyed" (p. 314). In 1932, Jung commented on the contemporary disparagement of fantasy ("The development of the personality." CW 17, §302).

117. This seems to refer to the following chapter.

118. St. Christopher (Greek for 'Christ bearer') was a martyr in the third century. According to legend, he had sought a hermit to inquire as to how he could serve Jesus. The hermit suggested he help carry people across a dangerous crossing in a river, which he did. On one occasion, a small child asked to be taken across. He found that the child was heavier than anyone else, and the child revealed himself to be Christ, bearing the sins of the world.

119. Matthew 11:30.

120. I.e. as Izdubar came to Jung.

121. The chapter title is missing in the calligraphic volume, and is given here following the Draft.

122. Images 50-64 symbolically depict the regeneration of Izdubar.

123. Luke 2:8-11: "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them. Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord."

124. Matthew 2:1-2: "Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him."

125. The attributes of the God in this section are elaborated as the attributes of Abraxas in the second and third sermons in Scrutinies. See below, p. 349.

126. In "Dreams," Jung noted on January 3, 1917: "In Lib. nov. snake image III incent" [stimulus to snake image III in Liber Novus] (p. 1). This notation appears to refer to this image.

127. Image legend: "brahmanaspati." Julius Eggling notes that "Brihaspati or Brahmanaspati, the lord of prayer or worship, takes the place of Agni, as the representative of the priestly dignity ... In Rig-Veda X, 68,9 ... Brihaspati is said to have found (avindat) the dawn, the sky and the fire (agni), and to have chased away the darkness with his light (arka, sun), he seems rather to represent the element of light and fire generally" (Sacred Books of the East 12, p. xvi). See also the note to image 45.

128. The solar barge is a common motif in ancient Egypt. The barge was seen as the typical means of movement of the sun. In Egyptian mythology, the Sun God struggled against the monster Aphophis, who attempted to swallow the solar barge as it traveled across the heavens each day. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912) Jung discussed the Egyptian "living sun-disc" (CW B, §153) and the motif of the sea monster (§ 549f). In his 1952 revision of this text, he noted that the battle with the sea monster represented the attempt to free ego-consciousness from the grip of the unconscious (Symbols of Transformation, CW 5, §539). The solar barge resembles some of the illustrations in the Egyptian Book of the Dead (ed. E. A. Wallis Budge [London: Arkana, 1899 / 1985]), i.e., the vignettes on pp. 390, 400, and 404). The oarsman is usually a falcon-headed Horus. The night journey of the sun God through the underworld is depicted in the Amduat, which has been seen as symbolic process of transformation. See Theodor Abt and Erik Hornung. Knowledge for the Afterlife. The Egyptian Amduat -- A Quest for Immortality (Zurich: Living Human Heritage Publications, 2003).

129. In "Dreams," Jung wrote: "17 1 1917. Tonight: awful and formidable avalanches come crashing down the mountainside, like utterly nightmarish clouds; they will fill the valley on whose rim I am standing on the opposite side. I know that I must take flight up the mountain to avoid the dreadful catastrophe. This dream is explained in the Black Book in strange terms, in an entry bearing the same date. On 17 1 1917 I produced a drawing with red spots on page 58 of Lib. Nov. On 18 1 1917 I read about the current formation of huge sunspots" (p. 2). The following is a paraphrase of the entry in Black Book 6 for January 17, 1917: Jung asks what it is that fills him with fear and horror, what is falling down from the high mountain. His soul tells him to help the Gods and to sacrifice to them. She tells him that the worm crawls up to Heaven, it begins to cover the stars and with a tongue of fire he eats the dome of the seven blue heavens. She tells him that he will also be eaten, and that he should crawl into the stone and wait in the narrow casing until the torrent of fire is over. Snow falls from the mountains because the fiery breath falls down from above the clouds. The God is coming, Jung should get ready to receive him. Jung should hide himself in stone, as the God is a terrible fire. He should remain quiet and look within, so that the God does not consume him in flames (p. 152f ).

130. Image legend: "hiranyagarbha." In the Rig Veda, hiranyagarbha was the primal seed from which Brahma was born. In Jung's copy of vol. 32 of the sacred Books of the East (Vedic Hymns) the only section that is cut is the opening one, a hymn "To the Unknown God." This begins "In the beginning there arose the Golden Child (Hiranyagarbha); as soon as born, he alone was the lord of all that is. He established the earth and this heaven: -- Who is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice?" (p. 1). In Jung's copy of the Upanishads in the Sacred Books of the East, there is a piece of paper inserted near page 311 of the Maitrayana-Brahmana-Upanishad, a passage describing the Self which begins, ''And the same Self is also called ... Hiranyagarbha" (vol. 15, pt. 2).

131. The face of the monster is similar to HI 29.

132. In "Dreams," Jung noted on February 4, 1917: "Started work on the Opening of the Egg (Image)" (p. 5). This indicates that the image depicts the regeneration of Izdubar from the egg. Concerning the solar barge in this image, cf. image 55.

133. Image legend: ''catapatha-brahmanam 2, 2, 4." Satapatha-brahmana 2, 2, 4 (Sacred Books of the East, vol. 12) provides the cosmological justification behind the Agnihotra. It commences by describing how Prajapati, desiring to be reproduced, produced Agni from his mouth. Prajapati offered himself to Agni, and saved himself from Death as he was about to be devoured. The Agnihotra (lit. fire healing) is a Vedic ritual performed at sunrise and sunset. The performers purify themselves, light a sacred fire, and chant verses and a prayer to Agni.

134. The Draft has instead: "Third Day" (p. 329).

135. January 10, 1914. In Black Book 3, Jung wrote: "It appears as if something has been achieved through this memorable event. But it is incalculable where this will all lead. I hardly dare say that Izdubar's fate is grotesque and tragic, for that is what our most precious life is. Fr. Th. Vischer's (A[uch]. E[iner]) is the first attempt to elevate this truth to a system. He rightly deserves a place among the immortal. What lies in the middle is the truth. It has many faces; one is certainly comical, another sad, a third evil, a fourth tragic, a fifth funny, a sixth is a grimace, and so forth. Should one of these faces become particularly obtrusive, we thus recognize that we have deviated from certain truth and approach an extreme that constitutes a definite impasse should we decide to pursue this route. It is a murderous task to write the wisdom of real life, particularly if one has committed many years to serious scientific research. What proves to be most difficult is to grasp the playfulness of life (the childish, so to speak). All the manifold sides of life, the great, the beautiful, the serious, the black, the devilish, the good, the ridiculous, the grotesque are fields of application which each tend to wholly absorb the beholder or describer. / Our time requires something capable of regulating the mind. Just as the concrete world has expanded from the limitedness of the ancient outlook to the immeasurable diversity of our modern outlook, the world of intellectual possibilities has developed to unfathomable diversity. Infinitely long paths, paved with thousands of thick volumes, lead from one specialization to another. Soon no one will be able to walk down these paths anymore. And then only specialists will remain. More than ever we require the living truth of the life of the mind, of something capable of providing firm guidance" (pp. 74-77). Vischer's work was Auch Einer: Eine Reisebekanntschaft (Stuttgart. 1884). In 1921, Jung wrote: "Vischer's novel. Auch Einer, gives a deep insight into this side of the introverted state of the soul, and also into the underlying symbolism of the collective unconscious" (psychological Types, CW 6, §627). In 1932 Jung commented on Vischer in The Psychology of Kundalini Yoga, p. 54. On Auch Einer, see Ruth Heller. "Auch Einer: the epitome of F. Th. Vischer's Philosophy of Life," German Life and Letters 8 (1954) pp. 9-18.
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

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PART 4 OF 5 (CH. 21 CONT'D.)

136. Roscher notes that "As a God, Izdubar is associated with the Sun-God" (Ausfuhrliches Lexikon der Griechischen und Romischen Mythologie, vol. 2, p. 774). The incubation and rebirth of Izdubar follows the classic pattern of solar myths. In Das Zeitalter des Sonnengottes, Leo Frobenius pointed out the widespread motif of a woman becoming pregnant through a process of immaculate conception and giving birth to the sun God, who develops in a remarkably short period of time. In some forms, he incubates in an egg. Frobenius related this to the setting and rising of the sun in the sea ([Berlin. G. Reimer, 1904]. pp. 223-63). Jung cited this work on a number of occasions in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912).

137. In Psychological Types (1921), Jung commented on the motif of the renewed God: "The renewed God signifies a renewed attitude, that is, a renewed possibility for intensive life, a recovery of life, because psychologically God always denotes the greatest value, thus the greatest sum of the libido, the greatest intensity of life, the optimum of psychological life's activity" (CW6, §301).

138. In the next chapter, Jung finds himself in Hell.

139. In "Dreams," Jung wrote on February 15, 1917: "Finished copying the opening scene. / The most wonderful feeling of renewal. Back to scientific work today. / Types!" (p. 5). This refers to completing this section of the transcription into the calligraphic volume, and to continuing his work on Psychological Types.

140. The blue and yellow circles are similar to image 60.

141. This might be the image Tina Keller is referring to in the following statement in an interview, where she recalled Jung's discussion of his relations with Emma Jung and Toni Wolff: "Jung once showed me a picture in the book he was painting, and he said, 'See these three snakes that are intertwined. This is how we three struggle with this problem.' I can only say that it seemed to me very important that, even as a passing phenomenon, here three people were accepting a destiny which was not gone into just for their personal satisfaction" (interview with Gene Nameche, 1969, R. D. Laing papers, University of Glasgow, p. 27) .

142. January 12, 1914.

143. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "cataphatha-brahmanam 2, 2, 4." The same inscription is given to image 64. See notes 132 and 133, above.

144. In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche wrote: "one must have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star" ("Zarathustra's prologue," §5, p. 46; as underlined in Jung's copy).

145. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "Khandogya-upanishad 1, 2, 1-7" The Chandogya Upanisad reads: "Once, when the gods and demons, both children of Prajapati, arrayed themselves against each other, the gods got hold of the High Chant. 'With this we will overpower them,' they thought. / So they venerated the High Chant as the breath within the nostrils. The demons riddled it with evil. As a result, one smells with it both good and evil odors, for it is riddled with evil. / Then they venerated the High Chant as speech. The demons riddled it with evil. As a result, one speaks with it both what is true and what is false, for it is riddled with evil. / Then they venerated the High Chant as sight. The demons riddled it with evil. As a result one sees with it both what is good to see and what is not, for it is riddled with evil. / Then they venerated the High Chant as hearing. The demons riddled it with evil. As a result, one hears with it both what is good to hear and what is not, for it is riddled with evil. / Then they venerated the High Chant as the mind. The demons riddled it with evil. As a result, one envisages with it both what is good to envisage and what is not, for it is riddled with evil. / Finally, they venerated the High Chant as just this breath here within the mouth. And when the demons hurled themselves at it, they were smashed to bits like a clod of earth hurled against a target that is a rock" (Upanishads, tr. P. Olivelle [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996]). The "High Chant" is OM.

146. The Handwritten Draft has instead: "Eighth Adventure" (p. 793).

147. In Memories, while commenting on the Liverpool dream (see below, p. 318, n. 296), Jung noted "According to an older view, the liver is the seat of life" (p. 224).

148. In 1940, Jung discussed ritual anthropophagy, sacrifice, and self-sacrifice in "Transformation symbolism in the mass." CW II.

149. In Black Book 3, Jung noted: "The curtain drops. What dreadful game has been played here? I realize: Nil humanum a me alienum esse puto [nothing human is alien to me]" (p. 91). The phrase is from the Roman playwright Terence, from Heauton Timorumenos. On September 2, 1960, Jung wrote to Herbert Read. ''As a medical psychologist I do not merely assume, but I am thoroughly convinced, that nil humanum a me alienum esse is even my duty" (Letters 2, p. 589).

150. Instead of this sentence, the Draft has: "This experience accomplished what I needed. It occurred in the most abominable manner. The evil that I wanted performed the infamous deed, seemingly without me and yet with me, since I learned that I am party to all the horror of human nature. I destroyed the divine child, the image of my God's formation, through the most dreadful crime which human nature is capable of. It takes this atrocity to destroy the image of the God that drinks all my life force so that I could reclaim my life" (p. 355).

151. I.e., the ritual of the mass.

152. Jung developed his ideas concerning the significance of symbols in Psychological Types (1921). See CW 6, §814ff.

153. In 1909, Jung had his house built in Kusnacht, and had the following motto from the Delphic oracle carved above the door: "Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit" (Called or not, the God will be present). The source of the quotation was Erasmus's Collectanea adagiorum. Jung explained the motto as follows: "It says, yes, the god will be on the spot, but in what form and to what purpose? I have put the inscription there to remind my patients and myself: Timor dei initium sapientiae [Psalms 111:10]. Here another not less important road begins, not the approach to 'Christianity' but to God himself and this seems to be the ultimate question" (Jung to Eugene Rolfe, November 19, 1960, Letters 2, p. 611).

154. There is a note at bottom of the page: "21 VIII. 1917. fect. 14.X.17," possibly an abbreviation for "fecit," i.e., "made."

155. In Black Book 7, in Jung's fantasy of October 7, 1917, a figure appears, Ha, who says he is the father of Philemon. Jung's soul describes him as a black magician. His secret is the runes, which Jung's soul wants to learn. He refuses to teach them, but shows some examples, which Jung's soul asks him to explain. Some of the runes later appear in these paintings. About the runes in this painting, Ha explained: "See the two with different feet, one earth foot and one sun foot -- which reach toward the upper cone and have the sun inside, but I have made one crooked line toward the other sun. Therefore one must reach downward. Meanwhile the upper sun comes out of the cone and the cone gazes after it, dejected about where it is going. One has to retrieve it with a hook and would like to place it in the small prison. Then the three have to stand together, unite, and twirl up at the top (curled). With this they manage to free the sun from its prison again. Now you make a thick bottom and a roof, where the sun sits safe at the top. But inside the house the other sun has risen also. Therefore you too are coiled up at the top and have made a roof over the prison again at the bottom, so that the upper sun cannot enter. The two suns always want to be together -- I said so, didn't I -- the two cones -- each has a sun. You want to let them come together, because then you think that thus you could be one. You have now drawn up both suns and brought them to one another, and now slope to the other side -- that is important (=) but then there are simply two suns at the bottom, so therefore you have to go to the lower cone. Then you put the suns together there, but in the middle, neither at the bottom nor at the top, therefore there are not four but two, but the upper cone is at the bottom and there is a thick roof above and if you want to continue, you long to return with both arms. But at the bottom you have a prison for two, for both of you. Therefore you make a prison for the lower sun and fall toward the other side, to get the lower sun out of the prison. This is what you long for, and the upper cone comes and makes a bridge toward the lower, taking back its sun, which has run away before, and now the morning clouds come into the lower cone, but its sun is beyond the line, invisible (horizon). Now you are one and happy that you have the sun at the top and long to be up there, too. But you are imprisoned in the prison of the lower sun, that is rising. There is a stop. Now you make something quadrilateral above, which you call thoughts, a prison without doors, with thick walls, so that the upper sun does not leave, but the cone has already gone. You lean toward the other side, long for the below and coil up at the bottom. Then you are one and make the serpent's way between the suns -- that is amusing! -- and important (=). But because it was amusing below, there is a roof above and you must raise upward the hook with both arms, so that it goes through the roof. Then the sun below is free and there is a prison above. You look downward, but the upper sun looks toward you. But you stand upright as a pair and have detached the serpent from you -- you have probably been put off. Therefore you make a prison for the below. Now the serpent crosses the sky above the earth. You are driven completely apart, the serpent wriggles its way through the sky around all the stars far above the earth. / At the bottom it says: the mother gives me this wisdom. / Be you content" (pp. 9-10). To Aniela Jaffe, Jung recounted that he had had a vision of a red clay tablet inscribed with hieroglyphics and embedded in his bedroom wall, and that he had transcribed the tablet the following day. He felt that it contained an important message, but he didn't understand it. (MP, p. 172). In letters to Sabina Spielrein dated September 13 and October 10, 1917, Jung commented on the significance of some hieroglyphs she'd seen in a dream. On October 10, he wrote to her that "with your hieroglyphics we are dealing with phylogenetic engrams of a historical symbolic nature." Commenting on the contempt meted out to Transformations and Symbols of the Libido by the Freudians, he described himself as "clinging to his runes" which he would not hand over to those who would not understand them ("The letters of Jung to Sabina Spielrein," Journal of Analytical Psychology 41 [2001], p. 187-8).

156. The runes in this painting appear in Black Book 7 in the entry for October 7, 1917. Jung appended the date "10 September 1917" to them. Ha explained: "If you have managed to move the arc forward, you make a bridge below and move upward and downward from the center, or you separate above and below, split the sun again and crawl like the serpent over the upper and receive the lower. You take with you what you have experienced and go forward to something new" (p. 11).

157. The runes in this painting appear in Black Book 7 in the entry for October 7, 1917. Jung appended the date "11 September 1917" to them. Ha explained: "Now, however, you make a bridge between you and the one longs for the below. But the serpent crawls at the top and draws the sun up. Then both of you move upward and want to go to the upper (Image), but the sun is below and tries to draw you down. But you draw a line above the below and long for the above and are completely at one. There the serpent comes and wants to drink from the vessel of the below. But there comes the upper cone and stops. Like the serpent, the looking coils back and moves forward again and afterward you very much (--) long to return. But the lower sun pulls and thus you become balanced again. But soon you fall backward, since the one has reached out toward the upper sun. The other does not want this and so you fall asunder, and therefore you must bind yourselves together three times. Then you stand upright again and you hold both suns before you, as if they were your eyes, the light of the above and the below before you and you stretch your arms out toward it, and you come together to become one and must separate the two suns and you long to return a little to the lower and reach out toward the upper. But the lower cone has swallowed the upper cone into itself, because the suns were so close. Therefore you place the upper cone back up again, and because the lower is then no longer there, you want to draw it up again and have a profound longing for the lower cone, while it is empty Above, since the sun Above the line is invisible. Because you have longed to return downward for so long, the upper cone comes down and tries to capture the invisible lower sun within itself. There the serpent's way goes at the very top, you are split and everything below is beneath the ground. You long to be further above, but the lower longing already comes crawling like a serpent, and you build a prison over her. But there the lower comes up, you long to be at the very bottom and the two suns suddenly reappear, close together. You long for this and come to be imprisoned. Then the one is defiant and the other longs for the below. The prison opens, the one longs even more to be below, but the defiant one longs for the above and is no longer defiant, but longs for what is to come. And thus it comes to pass: the sun rises at the bottom, but it is imprisoned and above three nest boxes are made for you two and the upper sun, which you expect, because you have imprisoned the lower one. But now the upper cone comes down powerfully and divides you and swallows the lower cone. This is impossible. Therefore you place the cones tip to tip and curl up toward the front in the center. Because that's no way to leave matters! So it has to happen otherwise. The one attempts to reach upward, the other downward; you must strive to do this, since if the tips of the cones meet, they can hardly be separated anymore --therefore I have placed the hard seed in-between. Tip to tip -- that would be too beautifully regular. This pleases father and mother, but where does that leave me? And my seed? Therefore a quick change of plan! One makes a bridge between you both, imprisons the lower sun again, the one longs for the above and the below, but the other longs especially strongly for the forward, above and below. Thus the future can become -- see, how well I can already say it -- yes, indeed, I am clever -- cleverer than you -- since you have taken matters in hand so well, you also get everything beneath the roof and into the house, the serpent, and the two suns. That is always most amusing. But you are separated and because you have drawn the line above, the serpent and the suns are too far below. This happens because beforehand you curled around yourself from below. But you come together and into agreement and stand upright, because it is good and amusing and fine and you say: thus shall it remain. But down comes the upper cone, because it felt dissatisfied, that you had set a limit above beforehand. The upper cone reaches out immediately for its sun -- but there is nowhere a sun to be found anymore and the serpent also jumps up, to catch the suns. You fall over, and one of you is eaten by the lower cone. With the help of the upper cone you get him out and in return you give the lower cone its sun and the upper cone its as well. You spread yourself out like the one-eyed, who wanders in heaven and hold the cones beneath you -- but in the end matters still go awry. You leave the cones and the suns to go and stand side by side and still do not want the same. In the end you agree to bind yourself threefold to the upper cone descending from above. / I am called Ha-Ha-Ha -- a jolly name -- I am clever -- look here, my last sign, that is the magic of the white man who lived in the great magic house, the magic which you call Christianity. Your medicine man said so himself: I and the father are one, no one comes to the father other than through me. I told you so, the upper cone is the father. He has bound himself threefold to you and stands between the other and the father. Therefore the other must go through him, if he wants to reach the cone" (pp. 13-14).

158. The Handwritten Draft has instead: "Ninth Adventure 1st Night" (p. 814).

159. January 14, 1914.

160. The The Imitation of Christ is a work of devotional instruction that appeared at the beginning of the fifteenth century and became extremely popular. Its authorship is still in dispute, though it is generally attributed to Thomas a Kempis (ca. 1380-1471), who was a member of the Brethren of the Common Life, a religious community in the Netherlands that was a prime representative of the devotio moderna, a movement stressing mediation and the inner life. In clear and simple language, The Imitation of Christ exhorts people to be concerned with the inner spiritual life as opposed to outer things, gives advice as to how this is to be lived, and shows the comfort and ultimate rewards of a life lived in Christ. The title derives from the first line of the first chapter, where it is also stated that ''Anyone who wishes to understand and to savor the words of Christ to the full must try to make his whole life conform to the pattern of Christ's life" (The Imitation of Christ, tr. B. Knott [London: Fount, 1996], book I, ch. 1, p. 33). The theme of the Imitation of Christ dates back much earlier. There was much discussion in the Middle Ages concerning how this was to be understood (on the history of this notion, see Giles Constable, "The Ideal of the Imitation of Christ," in Three Studies in Medieval Religious and Social Thought [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995], pp. 143-248). As Constable shows, two broad approaches may be distinguished, depending upon how imitation was understood: the first, the imitation of the divinity of Christ, stressed the doctrine of deification by which "Christ showed the way to become God through him" (p. 218). The second, the imitation of the humanity and body of Christ, stressed the imitation of his life on earth. The most extreme form of this was in the tradition of stigmatics, individuals who bore the wounds of Christ on their body.

161. I.e. Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

162. In The Imitation of Christ, Thomas a Kempis wrote: "There is no salvation for the soul nor hope for eternal life except in the cross. Take up your cross then, and follow Jesus, and you will enter eternal life. He went before you carrying his cross, and on the cross he died for you, so that you too should carry your cross, and long for a death on the cross. For if you share his death, you will also share his life" (book 2, ch. 12, p. 90).

163. The Draft continues: "But we know that the ancients spoke to us in images. Hence my thinking advised me to emulate Christ, not to imitate him but because he is the way. If I follow a way, I do not imitate him. But if I imitate Christ, he is my goal and not my way. But if he is my way, I thus go toward his goal, as the mysteries had shown me previously. Thus my thinking spoke to me in a confused and ambiguous manner, but it advised me to imitate Christ" (p. 366).

164. The Draft continues: "His own way led him to the cross for humanity's own way leads to the cross. My way also leads to the cross, but not to that of Christ, but to mine, which is the image of the sacrifice and of life. But as I was still blinded, I was inclined to yield to the enormous temptation of imitation and to look across to Christ, as if he were my goal and not my way" (p. 367).

165. The references seem to be to Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, respectively.

166. The Draft continues: "Consider this. Once you have considered it, you will understand the adventure that beset me the following night" (p. 368).

167. Second night.

168. January 17, 1914.

169. "The resolve of the upright depends upon the grace of God, not on their own wisdom; in him they trust, whatever they undertake; for man proposes, God disposes, and it is not for man to choose his lot" (The Imitation of Christ, book I, ch. 19, p. 54).

170. Instead of this sentence, Black Book 4 has: "Well, Henri Bergson, I think there you have it -- this is precisely the genuine and right intuitive method" (p. 9). On March 20, 1914, Adolf Keller gave a talk on "Bergson and the theory of libido" to the Zurich Psychoanalytical Society. In the discussion, Jung said "Bergson should have been discussed here long ago. B. says everything that we have not said" (MZS, vol. I, p. 57). On July 24, 1914, Jung gave a talk in London where he noted that his "constructive method" corresponded to Bergson's "intuitive method" ("On psychological understanding," Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology, ed. Constance Long [London: Balliere, Tindall and Cox, 1917], p. 399). The work Jung read was L'evolution creatrice (Paris: Alcan, 1907). He possessed the 1912 German translation.

171. Cary Baynes's transcription has: "Bergson's."

172. In the Draft, the speaker is identified as "The Uncanny One."

173. The biblical Ezechiel was a prophet in the sixth century BCE. Jung saw a great deal of historical significance in his visions, which incorporated a mandala with quaternities, as representing the humanization and differentiation of Yahweh. Although Ezechiel's visions are often viewed as pathological, Jung defended their normality, arguing that visions are natural phenomena that can be designated as pathological only when their morbid aspects have been demonstrated ("Answer to Job," 1952, CW 11, §§665, 667, 686). Anabaptism was a radical movement of the sixteenth-century Protestant reformation, which tried to restore the spirit of the early church. The movement originated in Zurich in the 1520s, where they rebelled against Zwingli and Luther's reluctance to completely reform the church. They rejected the practice of infant baptism, and promoted adult baptisms (the first of these took place in Zollikon, which is near Kusnacht, where Jung lived). Anabaptists stressed the immediacy of the human relation with God and were critical of religious institutions. The movement was violently suppressed and thousands were killed. See Daniel Liechty, ed., Early Anabaptist Spirituality: Selected Writings (New York: Paulist Press, 1994).

174. In 1918, Jung argued that Christianity had suppressed the animal element ("On the unconscious," CW 10, §31). He elaborated this theme in his 1923 seminars in Polzeath, Cornwall. In 1939, he argued that the "psychological sin" which Christ committed was that "he did not live the animal side of himself " (Modern Psychology 4, p. 230).

175. Chapter 13 of book I of the The Imitation of Christ begins: "As long as we are in this world we shall have to face trials and temptations. As it says in the Book of Job -- What is man's life on earth but a time of temptation? That is why we should treat our temptations as a serious matter and endeavor by vigilance and prayer to keep the devil from finding any loophole. Remember that the devil never sleeps, but goes about looking for his prey. There is no one so perfect and holy that he never meets temptation: we cannot escape it altogether" (p. 46). He goes on to emphasize the benefits of temptation, as being the means through which a man is "humbled, purified and disciplined."

176. The citation is from Cicero's Cato Maior de Senectute (Cato the Elder on Old Age). The text is a eulogy to old age. The lines Jung cites are italicized in the following passage: "Om nino, ut mihi quidem videtur, rerum omnium satietas vitae facit satietatem. Sunt pueritiae studia certa; num igitur ea desiderant adulescentes? Sunt ineuntis adulescentiae: num ea constans iam requirit aetas quae media dicitur? Sunt etiam eius aetatis; ne ea quidem quaeruntur in senectute. Sunt extrema quaedam studia senectutis: ergo, ut superiorum aetatum studia occidunt, sic occidunt etiam senectutis; quod cum evenit, satietas vitae tempus maturum mortis affert" (Tullii Ciceronis, Cato Maior de Senectute, ed. Julius Sommerbrodt [Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1873]). Translation: "Undoubtedly, as it seems to me at least, satiety of all things causes satiety of life. Boyhood has certain pursuits: does adolescence yearn for them? Adolescence has its pursuits: does the matured or so-called middle stage of life need them? Maturity, too, has such as not even sought in old age, and finally, there are those suitable to old age. Therefore as the pleasures and pursuits of the earlier periods of life fall away, so also do those of old age; and when that happens one is satiated of life and the time is ripe for death" (Cicero, De Senectute, De Amicitia, De Divinatione [London: William Heinemann, 1927], pp. 86-88, tr. mod.).

Then Cato began thus: -- "Your opinions, most wise Grecians, are much to be admired, and have abundantly justified the profound esteem which all the Litterati have of you; the vices, corruptions, and ulcerated wounds under which the age languishes could not be better discovered and pointed out. Nor are your opinions, which are full of humane knowledge, gain-said here for that they are not excellent, but for that the malady is so habituated in the veins, and is even so grounded in the bones, that the constitution of mankind is worn out, and their vital vertue yields to the strength of the distemper; in short, the patient spits nothing but blood and putrefaction, and the hair falls from his head. The physitian, gentlemen, hath a hard part to play when the sick man's maladies are many, and one so far differing from another that cooling medicines, and such as are good for a hot liver, are nought for the stomach, and weaken it too much. Truly this is just our case, for the maladies which molest our age equal the stars of heaven, and are more various than the flowers of the field. I, therefore, think this cure desperate, and that the patient is totally incapable of humane help. We must have recourse to prayers and to other divine helps, which in like case are usually implored from God; this is the true north-star, which, in the greatest difficulties, leads men into the harbour of perfection, for Pauci prudentia, honesta ab deterioribus, utilia ab noxiis discernunt; plures aliorum eventis docentur. If we approve this consideration, we shall find that when the world was formerly sunk into the same disorders, it was God's care that did help it by sending a universal deluge to raze mankind, full of abominable and incorrigible vice, from off the world. And, gentlemen, when a man sees the walls of his house all gaping and ruinous, and its foundations so weakened that, in all appearance, it is ready to fall, certainly it is more wisely done to pull down the house and build it anew, than to lose money and time in piecing and patching it. Therefore, since man's life is so foully depraved with vice that it is past all human power to restore it to its former health, I do with all my heart beseech the Divine Majestie, and counsel you to do the like, that He will again open the cataracts of Heaven, and pour down upon the earth another deluge, with this restriction, that a new Ark may be made, wherein all boys not above twelve years of age may be saved, and that all the female sex, of whatsoever age, be so wholly consumed, that nothing but their unhappy memory may remain. And I beseech the same Divine Majestie that as He hath granted the singular benefit to bees, fishes, beetles, and other animals, to procreate without the female sex, so He will think men worthy of the like favour. I have learnt for certain that as long as there shall be any women in the world men will be wicked."

-- The Real History of the Rosicrucians, by Arthur Edward Waite

177. Black Book 4 has: "paranoid form of Dementia praecox" (p. 16).

178. In the Draft a passage occurs here, a paraphrase of which follows: Since I was a thinker, my feeling was the lowest, oldest, and least developed. When I was brought up against the unthinkable through my thinking and what was unreachable through my thought power, then I could only press forward in a forced way. But I overloaded on one side, and the other side sank deeper. Overloading is not growth, which is what we need (p. 376).

179. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "26. 1. 1919." The date appears to refer to when this section was transcribed into the calligraphic volume.

180. In 1930, Jung said in a seminar: "We are prejudiced in regard to the animal. People don't understand when I tell them they should become acquainted with their animals or assimilate their animals. They think the animal is always jumping over walls and raising hell all over town. Yet in nature the animal is a well-behaved citizen. It is pious, it follows the path with great regularity, it does nothing extravagant. Only man is extravagant. So if you assimilate the character of the animal, you become a peculiarly law-abiding citizen, you go very slowly, and you become very reasonable in your ways, in as much as you can afford it" (Visions 1, p. 168).

181. The Handwritten Draft has in the margin: "Rom 8 19" (p. 863). What follows in the text is a citation from Romans 8:19-22.

182. This is a citation from Isaiah 66:24.

183. The Draft continues: "We were led by a prophet, whose proximity to God had driven him insane. He raged blindly against Christianity in his sermon, but he was the champion of the dead who had appointed him their spokesman and resounding trumpet. He shouted in a deafening voice so that many would hear him, and the power of his also burned those who resisted death. He preached the struggle against Christianity. This was good, too" (p. 387). The reference is to Nietzsche.

184. The Draft continues: "whose champion you are" (p. 388).

185. The Draft continues: "like that raving prophet who did not know whose cause he was promoting, but instead believed himself to be speaking on his own behalf and thought he was the will of destruction" (p. 388). The reference is to Nietzsche.

186. In 1930, Jung anonymously reproduced this image in "Commentary on 'The Secret of the Golden Flower'" as a mandala painted by a male patient during treatment. He described it as follows: "In the centre, the white light, shining in the firmament; in the first circle, protoplasmic life-seeds; in the second, rotating cosmic principles which contain the four primary colors; in the third and fourth, creative forces working inward and outward. At the cardinal points, the masculine and feminine souls, both again divided into light and dark" (CW 13, A6). He reproduced it again in 1952 in "Concerning mandala symbolism" and wrote: "Picture by a middle-aged man. In the center is a star. The blue sky contains golden clouds. At the four cardinal points we see human figures: at the top, an old man in the attitude of contemplation; at the bottom, Loki or Hephaestus with red, flaming hair, holding in his hands a temple. To the right and left are a light and dark female figure. Together they indicate four aspects of the personality, or four archetypal figures belonging, as it were, to the periphery of the self. The two female figures can be recognized without difficulty as the two aspects of the anima. The old man corresponds to the archetype of meaning, or of the spirit, and the dark chthonic figure to the opposite of the Wise Old Man, namely the magical (and sometimes destructive) Luciferian element. In alchemy it is Hermes Trismegistus versus Mercurius, the evasive 'trickster.' The circle enclosing the sky contains structures or organisms that look like protozoa. The sixteen globes painted in four colors just outside the circle derived originally from an eye motif and therefore stand for the observing and discriminating consciousness. Similarly, the ornaments in the next circle, all opening inward, are rather like vessels pouring out their content toward the center. [Fn: There is a similar conception in alchemy, in the Ripley Scrowle and its variants (Psychology and Alchemy, fig 257). There it is the planetary Gods who are pouring their qualities into the bath of rebirth.] On the other hand the ornaments along the rim open outward, as if to receive something from outside. That is, in the individuation process what were originally projections stream back 'inside' and are integrated into the personality again. Here, in contrast to Figure 25, 'Above' and 'Below,' male and female, are integrated, as in the alchemical hermaphrodite" (CW 9, 1, §682). On March 21, 1950, he wrote to Raymond Piper concerning the same image: "The other picture is by an educated man about 40 years old. He produced this picture also as an at-first unconscious attempt to restore order in the emotional state he was in which had been caused by an invasion of unconscious contents" (Letters 1, p. 550).

187. The Draft continues: "Not one title of Christian law is abrogated, but instead we are adding a new one: accepting the lament of the dead" (p. 390).

188. The Draft continues: "It is nothing other than common evil desire, nothing but everyday temptation, as long as you do not know that it is what the dead demand. But as long as you know about the dead, you will understand your temptation. As long as it is no more than evil desire, what can you do about it? Damn it, regret it, arise anew, only to stumble again and mock and loathe yourself, but definitely despise and pity yourself. But if you know what the dead demand, temptation will become the wellspring of your best work, indeed of the work of salvation: When Christ ascended after completing his work, he led those up with him who had died prematurely and incomplete under the law of hardship and alienation and raw violence. The lamentations of the dead filled the air at the time, and their misery became so loud that even the living were saddened, and became tired and sick of life and yearned to die to this world already in their living bodies. And thus you too lead the dead to their completion with your work of salvation" (pp. 390-91).

189. The Draft continues: "You employ old word magic to protect yourself through superstition for you are still a powerless child of the old wood. But we can see behind your word magic, and it is rendered feeble, and nothing protects you against the chaos other than acceptance" (p. 395).

190. Third night.

191. January 18, 1914.

192. In The Relations between the I and the Unconscious (1928), Jung refers to a case of a man with paranoid dementia he encountered during his time at the Burgholzli who was in telephonic communication with the Mother of God (CW 7, §229).

193. Image legend: "This man of matter rose up too far in the world of the spirits, but there the spirit of the heart bores through him with a golden ray. He falls with joy and disintegrates. The serpent, who is the evil one, could not remain in the world of spirits."

194. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "223.1919." This seems to refer to when this passage was transcribed into the calligraphic volume.

195. In Psychology and Religion (1938), Jung commented on the symbolism of the world clock (CW 11, §110ff ).

196. In Dante's Commedia, the following lines are inscribed over the gates of Hell: "Abandon every hope, you who enter" (canto 3, line 9). See The Divine Comedy of Dante Aligheri, vol. 1., ed. and tr. Robert Durling (New York: Oxford University Press), p. 55.

197. The Draft continues: "For words are not merely words, but have meanings for which they are set. They attract these meanings like daimonic shadows" (p. 403).

198. The Draft continues: "Once you have seen the chaos, look at your face: you saw more than death and the grave, you saw beyond and your face bears the mark of one who has seen chaos and yet was a man. Many cross over, but they do not see the chaos; however the chaos sees them, stares at them, and imprints its features on them. And they are marked forever. Call such a one mad, for that is what he is; he has become a wave and has lost his human side, his constancy" (p. 404).

199. The preceding sentence is crossed out in the Corrected Draft, and Jung has written in the margin: " identification" (p. 405).

200. Jung elaborated on this issue many years later in Answer to Job (1952), where he studied the historical transformation of Judeo-Christian God images. A major theme in this is the continued incarnation of God after Christ. Commenting on the Book of Revelation, Jung argued that: "Ever since John the apocalyptist experienced for the first time (perhaps unconsciously) the conflict into which Christianity inevitably leads, mankind is burdened with this: God wanted and wants to become man" (CW 11, §739). In Jung's view, there was a direct link between John's views and Eckhart's views: "This disturbing invasion engendered in him the image of the divine consort, whose image lives in every man: of the child, whom Meister Eckhart also saw in the vision. It was he who knew that God alone in his Godhead is not in a state of bliss, but must be born in the human soul. The incarnation in Christ is the prototype which is continually being transferred to the creature by the Holy Ghost" (Ibid., §741). In contemporary times, Jung gave great importance to the papal bull of the Assumptio Maria. He held that it "points to the hieros gamos in the Pleroma, and this in turn implies, as we have said, the future birth of the divine child, who, in accordance with the divine trend toward incarnation, will choose as his birthplace the empirical man. This metaphysical process is known as the individuation process in the psychology of the unconscious" (Ibid., §755). Through being identified with the continued incarnation of God in the soul, the process of individuation found its ultimate significance. On May 3, 1958, Jung wrote to Morton Kelsey: "The real history of the world seems to be the progressive incarnation of the deity" (Letters 2, p. 436).

201. Image legend: "The serpent fell dead unto the earth. And that was the umbilical cord of a new birth." The serpent is similar to the serpent in Image 109. In Black Book 7 on January 27, 1922, Jung's soul refers to images 109 and 111. His soul says: "the giant cloud of eternal night is awful. I see a yellow shining stroke on this cloud from the top left-hand corner in the irregular shape of a streak of lightning, and behind it an indeterminate reddish light in the cloud. It does not move. I see a dead black serpent lying beneath the cloud and the lightning. It does not move. Beneath the cloud I see a dead black serpent and the thunderbolt stuck in its head like a spear. A hand, as large as that of a God, has thrown the spear and everything has frozen to a gloomy image. What is it trying to say. Do you recall that image that you painted years ago, the one in which the black and red man with the black and white serpent is struck by the ray of God [i.e., image 109]? This image seems to follow that one, because afterward you also painted the dead serpent [i.e., image 111] and did you not behold a gloomy image this morning, of that man in the white robe and a black face, like a mummy?" I: "How now, what is this supposed to mean?" Soul: "It is an image of your self " (p. 57).

202. The Draft continues: "But who does this under the law of love will move beyond suffering, sit at the table with the anointed and behold God's glory" (p. 406).

203. The Draft continues: "But God will come to those who take their suffering upon themselves under the law of love, and he will establish a new bond with them. For it is predicted that the anointed is supposed to return, but no longer in the flesh, but in the spirit. And just as Christ guided the flesh upward through the torment of salvation, the anointed of this time will guide the spirit upward through the torment of salvation" (p. 407).

204. The Draft continues: "The lowest in you is the stone that the builders discarded. It will become the cornerstone. The lowest in you will grow like a grain of rice from dry soil, shooting up from the sand of the most barren desert, and rise and stand very tall. Salvation comes to you from the discarded. Your sun will rise from muddy swamps. Like all others, you are annoyed at the lowest in you because its guise is uglier than the image of yourself that you love. The lowest in you is the most despised and least valued, full of pain and sickness. He is despised so much that one hides one's face from him, that he is held in no respect whatsoever, and it is even said that he does not exist because one is ashamed for his sake and despises oneself. In truth, it carries our sickness and is ridden with our pain. We consider him the one who is plagued and punished by God on account of his despicable ugliness. But he is wounded, and exposed to madness, for the sake of our own justice; he is crucified and suppressed for the sake of our own beauty. We leave him to punishment and martyrdom that we might have peace. But we will take his sickness upon ourselves, and salvation will come to us through our own wounds" (pp. 407-8). The first lines refer to Psalm 118:22. The passage echoes Isaiah 53, which Jung cited above, p. 229.

205. The Draft continues: "Why should our spirit not take upon itself torment and restlessness for the sake of sanctification?But all this will come over you, for I already hear the steps of those who bear the keys to open the gates of the depths. The valleys and mountains that resound with the noise of battles, the lamentation arising from innumerable inhabited sites is the omen of what is to come. My visions are truth for I have beheld what is to come. But you are not supposed to believe me, because otherwise you will stray from your path, the right one, that leads you safely to your suffering that I have seen ahead. May no faith mislead you, accept your utmost unbelief, it guides you on your way. Accept your betrayal and infidelity, your arrogance and your better knowledge, and you will reach the safe and secure route that leads you to your lowest; and what you do to your lowest, you will do to the anointed. Do not forget this: Nothing of the law of love is abrogated, but much has been added to it. Cursed unto himself is he who kills the one capable of love in himself, for the horde of the dead who died for the sake of love is immeasurable, and the mightiest among these dead is Christ the lord. Holding these dead in reverence is wisdom. Purgatory awaits those who murder the one in themselves who is capable of love. You will lament and rave against the impossibility of uniting the lowest in you with the law of those who love. I say to you: Just as Christ subjugated the nature of the physical to the spirit under the law of the word of the father, the nature of the spirit shall be subjugated to the physical under the law of Christ's completed work of salvation through love. You are afraid of the danger; but know that where God is nearest, the danger is greatest. How can you recognize the anointed one without any danger? Will one ever acquire a precious stone with a copper coin? The lowest in you is what endangers you. Fear and doubt guard the gates of your way. The lowest in you is the unforeseeable for you cannot see it. Thus shape and behold it. You will thus open the floodgates of chaos. The sun arises from the darkest, dampest, and coldest. The unknowing people of this time only see the one; they never see the other approaching them. But if the one exists, so does the other" (pp. 409-10). Jung here implicitly cites the opening lines of Friedrich Holderlin's "Patmos," which was one of his favorite poems: "Near is / the God, and hard to grasp. / But where danger is, / salvation also grows." Jung discussed this in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912, CW B, §651f ).

206. These lines actually cite Isaiah 63:2-6.

207. Matthew 10:34: "Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword."

208. In Answer to Job (1952), Jung wrote of Christ on the cross: "This picture is completed by the two thieves, one whom goes down to hell, the other into paradise. One could hardly imagine a better representation of the oppositeness of the central Christian symbol" (CW 11, §659).

209. Dieterich notes that in Plato's Gorgias, there is the motif that transgressors hang in Hades (Nekyia, p. 117). In Jung's list of references at the back of his copy of Nekyia, he noted: "117 hanging."

210. Matthew 10:16: "Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves."

211. Image legend: "This is the image of the divine child. It means the completion of a long path. Just as the image was finished in April 1919, and work on the next image had already begun, the one who brought the Image came, as Image [Philemon] had predicted to me. I called him Image: [Phanes], because he is the newly appearing God." Image may be the astrological sign for the sun. In the Orphic theogony; Aither and Chaos are born from Chronos. Chronos makes an egg in Aither. The egg splits into two, and Phanes, the first of the Gods, appears. Guthrie writes that "he is imagined as marvelously beautiful, a figure of shining light, with golden wings on his shoulders, four eyes, and the heads of various animals. He is of both sexes, since he is to create the race of the gods unaided" (Orpheus and Greek Religion: A Study of the Orphic Movement [London: Methuen, 1935, p. 80). In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912) while discussing mythological conceptions of creative force, Jung drew attention to the "Orphic figure of Phanes, the 'Shining One,' the first-born, the 'Father of Eros.' In Orphic terms, Phanes also denotes Priapos, a god of love, androgynous, and equal to the Theban Dionysus Lysios. The Orphic meaning of Phanes is the same as that of the Indian Kama, the God of love, which is also a cosmogonic principle" (CW B, §223). Phanes appears in Black Book 6 in the autumn of 1916. His attributes match the classical depictions, and he is described as the brilliant one, a God of beauty and light. Jung's copy of Isaac Cory's Ancient Fragments of the Phoenician, Chaldean, Egyptian, Tryian, Carthaginian, Indian, Persian, and Other Writers; With an Introductory Dissertation; And an Inquiry into the Philosophy and Trinity of the Ancients has underlinings in the section containing the Orphic theogony; and a slip of paper and mark by the following statement: "they imagine as the god a conceiving and conceived egg, or a white garment, or a cloud, because Phanes springs forth from these" ([London: William Pickering, 1832], p. 310). Phanes is God. On September 28, 1916, Phanes is described as a golden bird (Black Book 6, p. 119). On February 20, 1917, Jung addresses Phanes as the messenger of Abraxas (ibid., p. 167). On May 20, 1917, Philemon says that he will become Phanes (ibid., p. 195). On September 11, Philemon describes him as follows: "Phanes is the God who rises agleam from the waters. / Phanes is the smile of dawn. / Phanes is the resplendent day / He is the immortal present. / He is the gushing streams. / He is the soughing wind. / He is hunger and satiation. / He is love and lust. / He is mourning and consolation. / He is promise and fulfillment. / He is the light that illuminates every darkness. / He is the eternal day! He is the silver light of the moon. / He is the flickering stars. / He is the shooting star that flashes and falls and lapses. / He is the stream of shooting stars that returns every year. / He is the returning sun and moon. / He is the trailing star that brings wars and noble wine. / He is the good and fullness of the year. / He fulfills the hours with life-filled enchantment. / He is love's embrace and whisper. / He is the warmth of friendship. / He is the hope that enlivens the void. / He is the magnificence of all renewed suns. / He is the joy at every birth. / He is the blooming flowers. / He is the velvety butterfly's wing. / He is the scent of blooming gardens that fills the nights. / He is the song of joy. / He is the tree of light. / He is perfection, everything done better. / He is everything euphonious. / He is the well-measured. / He is the sacred number. / He is the promise of life. / He is the contract and the sacred pledge. / He is the diversity of sounds and colors. / He is the sanctification of morning, noon, and evening. / He is the benevolent and the gentle. / He is salvation ... / In truth, Phanes is the happy day ... / In truth, Phanes is work and its accomplishment and its remuneration. / He is the troublesome task and the evening calm. / He is the step on the middle way, its beginning, its middle, and its end. / He is foresight. / He is the end of fear. / He is the sprouting seed, the opening bud. / He is the gate of reception, of acceptance and deposition. / He is the spring and the desert. / He is the safe haven and the stormy night. / He is the certainty in desperation./ He is the solid in dissolution. / He is the liberation from imprisonment. / He is counsel and strength in advancement. / He is the friend of man, the light emanating from man, the bright glow that man beholds on his path. / He is the greatness of man, his worth, and his force" (Black Book 7. pp. 16-9). On July 31, 1918, Phanes himself says: "The mystery of the summer morning, the happy day, the completion of the moment, the fullness of the possible, born from suffering and joy, the treasure of eternal beauty, the goal of the four paths, the spring and the ocean of the four streams, the fulfillment of the four sufferings and of the four joys, father and mother of the Gods of the four winds, crucifixion, burial, resurrection, and man's divine enhancement, highest effect and nonbeing, world and grain, eternity and instance, poverty and abundance, evolution, death and the rebirth of God, borne by eternally creative power, resplendent in eternal effect, loved by the two mothers and sisterly wives, ineffable pain-ridden bliss, unknowable, unrecognizable, a hair's breadth between life and death, a river of worlds, canopying the heavens -- I give you philanthropy, the opal jug of water; he pours water and wine and milk and blood, food for men and Gods. / I give you the joy of suffering and suffering of joy. / I give you what has been found: the constancy in change and the change in constancy. / The jug made of stone, the vessel of completion. Water flowed in, wine flowed in, milk flowed in, blood flowed in. / The fours winds precipitated into the precious vessel. The Gods of the four heavenly realms hold its curvature, the two mothers and the two fathers guard it, the fire of the North burns above its mouth, the serpent South encircles its bottom, the spirit of the East holds one of its sides and the spirit of the West the other. / Forever denied it exists forever. Recurring in all forms, forever the same, this one precious vessel, surrounded by the circle of animals, denying itself, and arising in new splendor through its self-denial. / The heart of God and of man. / It is the One and the Many. A path leading across mountains and valleys, a guiding star on the oceans, in you and always ahead of you. /Perfected, indeed truly perfected is he who knows this. /Perfection is poverty. But poverty means gratitude. Gratitude is love (2 August). / In truth, perfection is sacrifice. / Perfection is joy and anticipation of the shadow. / Perfection is the end. The end means the beginning, and hence perfection is both smallness and the smallest possible beginning. Everything is imperfect, and perfection is hence solitude. But solitude seeks community. Hence perfection means community. / I am perfection, but perfected is only he who has attained his limits. / I am the eternal light, but perfect is he who stands between day and night. I am eternal love, but perfect is he who has placed the sacrificial knife beside his love. / I am beauty, but perfect is he who sits against the temple wall and mends shoes for money. / He who is perfect is simple, solitary, and unanimous. Hence he seeks diversity, community, ambiguity. Through diversity, community, and ambiguity he advances toward simplicity, solitude, and unanimousness. / He who is perfect knows suffering and joy, but I am the bliss beyond joy and suffering. / He who is perfect knows light and dark, but I am the light beyond day and darkness. / He who is perfect knows up and down, but I am the height beyond high and low. / He who is perfect knows the creating and the created, but I am the parturient image beyond creation and creature. / He who is perfect knows love and being loved, but I am the love beyond embrace and mourning. / He who is perfect knows male and female, but I am the One, his father and son beyond masculine and feminine, beyond child and the aged. / He who is perfect knows rise and fall, but I am the center beyond dawn and dusk. / He who is perfect knows me and hence he is different from me" (Black Book 7, pp. 76-80).

The phaen belonged, body and soul, to Faceny....

[Faceny] faces Nothingness in all directions. He has no back and no sides, but is all face; and this face is his shape. It must necessarily be so, for nothing else can exist between him and Nothingness. His face is all eyes, for he eternally contemplates Nothingness. He draws his inspirations from it; in no other way could he feel himself. For the same reason, phaens and even men love to be in empty places and vast solitudes, for each one is a little Faceny....

Thoughts flow perpetually from Faceny's face backward. Since his face is on all sides, however, they flow into his interior. A draught of thought thus continuously flows from Nothingness to the inside of Faceny, which is the world. The thoughts become shapes, and people the world. This outer world, therefore, which is lying all around us, is not outside at all, as it happens, but inside. The visible universe is like a gigantic stomach, and the real outside of the world we shall never see.

-- A Voyage to Arcturus, by David Lindsay

212. Jung's marginal note to the volume: 14. IX. 1922.

213. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), Jung referred to a legend in which the tree had withered after the fall (CW B, §375).

214. The Draft continues: "Hence Christ taught: Blessed be ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of God" (p. 416). This refers to Luke 6:20.

215. Fourth night.

216. January 19, 1914.

217. In the first act of the second part of Goethe's Faust, Faust has to descend to the realm of the Mothers. There has been much speculation concerning the meaning of this term in Goethe. To Eckermann, Goethe stated that the source for the name was from Plutarch. In all likelihood, this was Plutarch's discussion of the Mother Goddesses in Engyon. (See Cryus Hamlin, ed., Faust [New York: W W Norton, 1976], pp. 328-29.) In 1958, Jung identified the realm of the Mothers with the collective unconscious (A Modern Myth: Of Things That Were Seen in the Skies, CW 10, §714).

218. The The Imitation of Christ, ch. 21, p. 124.

219. Image legend: "This is the golden fabric in which the shadow of God lives."

220. Jung is referring to the Greek practices of dream incubation. See C. A. Meier, Healing Dream and Ritual: Ancient Incubation and Modern Psychotherapy (Einsiedeln: Daimon Verlag, 1989).

221. In Parsifal, Wagner presented his reworking of the Grail legend. The plot runs as follows: Titurel and his Christian knights have the Holy Grail in their keeping in their castle, with a sacred spear to guard it. Klingsor is a sorcerer who seeks the Grail. He has enticed the keepers of the Grail into his magic garden, where there are flower maidens and the enchantress, Kundry. Amfortas, Titurel's son, goes into the castle to destroy Klingsor but is enchanted by Kundry and lets the sacred spear fall, and Klingsor wounds him with it. Amfortas needs the touch of the spear to heal his wound. Gurnemanz, the oldest of the knights, looks after Kundry; not knowing her role in Amfortas's wounding. A voice from the Grail sanctuary prophesies that only a youth who is guileless and innocent can regain the spear.


"It is our wish and will that this State and this Reich last for a thousand years. We can be happy to know that this future belongs entirely to us! When the older ones among us falter, the youth will stiffen, and remain until their bodies decay."

-- Adolf Hitler, from Triumph of the Will, directed by Leni Riefenstahl
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 10:28 am

PART 5 OF 5 (CH. 21 CONT'D.)

Parsifal enters, having killed a swan. Not knowing his name or the name of his father, the knights hope that he is this youth. Gurnemanz takes him to Klingsor's castle. Klingsor orders Kundry to seduce Parsifal. Parsifal defeats Klingsor's knights. Kundry is transformed into a beautiful woman, and she kisses him. From this, he realizes that Kundry seduced Amfortas, and he resists her. Klingsor hurls the spear at him, and Parsifal seizes it. Klingsor's castle and garden disappear. After wandering, Parsifal finds Gurnemanz. now living as a hermit. Parsifal is covered in black armor, and Gurnemanz is offended that he is armed on Good Friday. Parsifal lays his spear before him, and removes his helmet and arms. Gurnemanz recognizes him, and anoints him king of the knights of the Grail. Parsifal baptizes Kundry. They go into the castle and ask Amfortas to uncover the Grail. Amfortas asks them to slay him. Parsifal enters and touches his wound with the spear. Amfortas is transfigured, and Parsifal radiantly holds up the Grail. On May 16, 1913, Otto Mensendieck gave a presentation to the Zurich Psychoanalytical Society on "The Grail-Parsifal Saga." In the discussion, Jung said: "Wagner's exhaustive treatment of the legend of the Holy Grail and Parsifal would need to be supplemented with the synthetic view that the various figures correspond to various artistic aspirations. -- The incest barrier will not serve to explain that Kundry's ensnarement fails; instead this has to do with the activity of the psyche to elevate human aspirations ever higher" (MZS, p. 20). In Psychological Types (1921), Jung put forward a psychological interpretation of Parsifal (CW 6, §§371-72).

222. Text in image: (Atmavictu); (iuvenis adiutor) [a youthful supporter]; (Image) [TELESPHORUS]; (spiritus malus in homnibus quibusdam) [evil spirit in some men]. Image legend: "The dragon wants to eat the sun and the youth beseeches him not to. But he eats it nevertheless." Atmaviktu (as spelled there) first appears in Black Book 6 in 1917. Here is a paraphrase of the fantasy of April 25, 1917: The serpent says that Atmaviktu was her companion for thousands of years. He was first an old man, and then he died and became a bear. Then he died and became an otter. Then he died and became a newt. Then he died again and came into the serpent. The serpent is Atmaviktu. He made a mistake before then and became a man, while he was still an earth serpent. Jung's soul says that Atmaviktu is a kobold, a serpent conjuror, a serpent. The serpent says that she is the kernel of the self. From the serpent, Atmaviktu transformed into Philemon (p. 179f). There is a sculpture of him in Jung's garden in Kusnacht. In "From the earliest experiences of my life" Jung wrote: "When I was in England in 1920, I carved two similar figures out of thin branch without having the slightest recollection of that childhood experience. One of them I had reproduced on a larger scale in stone, and this figure now stands in my garden in Kusnacht. It was only at that time that the unconscious supplied me with a name. It called the figure Atmavictu -- the 'breath of life.' It is a further development of that quasi-sexual object of my childhood, which turned out to be the 'breath of life,' the creative impulse. Basically; the manikin is a kabir" (JA, pp. 29-30; cf. Memories, pp. 38-39). The figure of Telesphorus is like Phanes in Image 113. Telesphorus is one of the Cabiri, and the daimon of Aesclepius (see fig. 77, Psychology and Alchemy, CW 12). He was also regarded as a God of healing, and had a temple at Pergamon in Asia Minor. In 1950, Jung carved an image of him in his stone at Bollingen, together with a dedication to him in Greek, combining lines from Heraclitus, the Mithraic Liturgy, and Homer (Memories, p. 254).

223. In Book II of the Odyssey, Odysseus makes a libation to the dead to enable them to speak. Walter Burkert notes: "The dead drink the pourings and indeed the blood -- they are invited to come to the banquet, to the satiation with blood; as the libations seep into the earth, so the dead will send good things up above" (Greek Religion. tr.]. Raffar [Oxford: Basil Blackwell. 1987], pp. 194-95). Jung had used this motif in a metaphorical sense in 1912 in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido: "like Odysseus, I have sought to allow this shade [Miss Frank Miller] to drink only as much so as to make it speak so it can give away some of the secrets of the underworld" (CW B. §57n). Around 1910, Jung went on a sailing trip with his friends Albert Oeri and Andreas Vischer, during which Oeri read aloud the chapters from the Odyssey dealing with Circe and the nekyia. Jung noted that shortly after this, he "like Odysseus, was presented by fate with a nekyia, the descent into the dark Hades" (Jung/Jaffe, Erinnerungen, Traume, Gedanken, p. 104). The passage which follows depicting the prophet's revival of the child paraphrases Elisha's revival of the son of the Shunammite widow in 2 Kings 4:32-36.

224. See below, p. 327. --

225. See above, note 135. p. 243 --

226. Image legend: "The accursed dragon has eaten the sun, its belly being cut open and he must not hand over the gold of the sun, together with his blood. This is the turning back of Atmavictu, of the old one. He who destroyed the proliferating green covering is the youth who helped me to kill Siegfried." The reference is to Liber Primus. ch. 7. "Murder of the Hero."

227. The Draft continues: "I put many people, books, and thoughts aside for his sake; but even more, I withdrew from the current world and did the plain and simple, and what suggested it most immediately, to serve his secret purpose. By serving him, the dark one, I encounter another on the path of mercy. If intentions and wishes torment me, I think, feel, and do what lies closest. Thus what is most remote reaches me" (p. 434).

228. In 1944 in Psychology und Alchemy, Jung referred to an alchemical representation of a circle quadrated by four "rivers" in the context of a discussion of mandala symbolism (CW 12, §167n). Jung commented on the four rivers of paradise on a number of occasions -- see, for instance, Aion, CW §§2, 9, 311, 353, 358, 372.

229. Inscription: "XI. MCMXIX. [11. 1919: This date seems to refer to when this image was painted.] This stone, set so beautifully, is certainly the Lapis Philosophorum. It is harder than diamond. But it expands into space through four distinct qualities, namely breadth, height, depth, and time. It is hence invisible and you can pass through it without noticing it. The four streams of Aquarius flow from the stone. This is the incorruptible seed that lies between the father and the mother and prevents the heads of both cones from touching: it is the monad which countervails the Pleroma." On the pleroma, see below p. 347. Concerning the reference to the incorruptible seed, see the dialogue with Ha in the note to image 94, p. 297, n. 157 above.

230. On June 3, 1918, Jung's soul described Philemon as the joy of the earth: "The daimons become reconciled in the one who has found himself, who is the source of all four streams, of the source-bearing earth. From his summit waters flow in all four directions. He is the sea that bears the sun; he is the mountain that carries the sun; he is the father of all four great streams; he is the cross that binds the four great daimons. He is the incorruptible seed of nothingness, which falls accidentally through space. This seed is the beginning, younger than all other beginnings, older than all endings" (Black Book 7, p. 61). Some of the motifs in this statement may have some connections with this image. There is a gap between July 1919 and February 1920 in Black Book 7, during which time Jung was presumably writing Psychological Types. On February 23 he made the following entry: "What lies between appears in the book of dreams, but even more in the images of the red book" (p. 88). In "Dreams" Jung noted around eight dreams during this period, and a vision at night in August 1919 of two angels, a dark transparent mass, and a young woman. This suggests that the symbolic process continues in the paintings in the calligraphic volume, which do not appear to have direct cross-references to either the text in Liber Novus or the Black Books. In 1935, Jung put forward a psychological interpretation of the symbolism of medieval alchemy, viewing the philosopher's stone -- the goal of the alchemical opus -- as a symbol of the self (Psychology and Alchemy, CW 12).

231. Inscription: "4 December MCMXIX. [December 4, 1919: This date seems to refer to when the image was painted.] This is the back side of the gem. He who is in the stone has this shadow. This is Atmavictu, the old one, after he has withdrawn from the creation. He has returned to endless history, where he took his beginning. Once more he became stony residue, having completed his creation. In the form of Izdubar he has outgrown and delivered Image and Ka from him. Image gave the stone, Ka the Image." The final character appears to be the astrological symbol for the sun.

232. On Atmavictu, see note to image 117. On May 20, 1917, Philemon said: ''As Atmavictu I committed the error and became human. My name was Izdubar? I approached him as just that. He paralyzed me. Yes, man paralyzed me and turned me into a dragon's serpent. Fortunately, I recognized my error, and the fire consumed the serpent. And thus Philemon came into being. My form is appearance. Previously, my appearance was form" (Black Book 7, p. 195). In Memories, Jung said: "Later, Philemon became relativized by 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 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. 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 has a lame foot, but was a winged spirit, whereas Ka represented a kind of earth demon or metal demon. Philemon was the spiritual aspect, 'the meaning,' Ka, on the other hand was a spirit of nature like the Anthroparion of Greek alchemy -- with which at that time I was still unfamiliar. Ka was he who made everything real, but who also obscured the kingfisher spirit, the meaning, or replaced it by beauty, the 'eternal reflection.' In time I was able to integrate both figures through the study of alchemy" (pp. 209-10). Wallace Budge notes that "The ka was an abstract individuality or personality which possessed the form and attributes of the man to whom it belonged, and though its normal dwelling place was in the tomb with the body, it could wander at will; it was independent of the man and could go and dwell in any statue of him" (Egyptian Book of the Dead, p. lxv). In 1928, Jung commented: "At a rather higher stage of development, where the idea of the soul already exists, not all the images continue to be projected ... but one or the other complex has come near enough to consciousness to be felt as no longer strange, but as somehow belonging. Nevertheless, the feeling that it belongs is not at first sufficiently strong for the complex to be sensed as a subjective content of consciousness. It remains in a sort of no-man's-land between consciousness and the unconscious, in the half-shadow, in part belonging or akin to the conscious subject, in part an autonomous being, and meeting consciousness as such. At all events it is not necessarily obedient to the subject's intentions, it may even be of a higher order, more often than not a source of inspiration or warning, or of supernatural information. Psychologically such a content could be explained as a partly autonomous complex that is not yet fully integrated. The primitive souls, the Egyptian Ba and Ka, are complexes of this kind" (The Relations between the I and the Unconscious, CW 7, §295). In 1955/56, Jung described the Anthroparion in alchemy as "a type of goblin, that as Image [devoted spirit], spiritus familiaris, stands by the adept in his work and helps the physician to heal" (Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW 14, §304). The Anthroparion was seen to represent the alchemical metals ("On the psychology of the Child archetype," CW 9, I, §268) and appeared in the visions of Zosimos (CW 13, pp. 60-62). The painting of Ka that Jung refers to has not come to light. Ka appeared to Jung in a fantasy on 22, 1917, where he introduced himself as the other side of Ha, his soul. It was Ka who had given Ha the runes and the lower wisdom (see note 155, p. 292). His eyes are of pure gold and his body is of black iron. He tells Jung and his soul that they need his secret, which is the essence of all magic. This is love. Philemon says that Ka is Philemon's shadow (Black Book 7, p. 25ff ). On November 20, Ka calls Philemon his shadow, and his herald. Ka says that he is eternal and remains, while Philemon is fleeting and passes on (p. 34). On February 10, 1918, Ka says that he has built a temple as a prison and grave for the Gods (p. 39). Ka features in Black Book 7 until 1923. During this period, Jung attempts to understand the connection among Ka, Philemon, and the other figures, and to establish the right relation to them. On October 15, 1920, Jung discussed an unidentified picture with Constance Long, who was in analysis with him. Some of the comments she noted shed light on his understanding of the relation of Philemon and Ka: "The 2 figures on either side are personifications of dominants 'fathers.' The one is the creative father, Ka, the other, Philemon that one whom gives form and law (the formative instinct) Ka would equal Dionysus & P = Apollo. Philemon gives formulation to the things within elements of the collective unc ... Philemon gives the idea (maybe of a god) but it remains floating, distant & indistinct because all the things he invents are winged. But Ka gives substance & is called the one who buries the gods in gold & marble. He has a tendency to misprison them in matter, & so they are in danger of losing their spiritual meaning, & becoming buried in stone. So the temple may be the grave of God, as the church has become the grave of Xt. The more the church develops, the more Xt dies. Ka must not be allowed to produce too much -- you must not depend on substantiation; but if too little substance is produced the creature floats. The transcendent function is the whole. Not this picture, nor my rationalization of it, but the new and vivifying creative spirit that is the result of the intercourse between the consc. intelligence and the creative side. Ka is sensation, P is intuition, he is too supra-human (he is Zarathustra, extravagantly superior in what he says & cold. (CGJ has not printed the questions he addressed to P nor his answers) ... Ka & Philemon are bigger than the man, they are supra-human (Disintegrated into them one is in the Col. Unc)" (Diary, Countway library of Medicine, pp. 32-33).

233. Inscription: "IV Jan, MCMXX [January 4, 1920: This date seems to refer to when the image was painted.] This is the holy caster of water. The Cabiri grow out of the flowers which spring from the body of the dragon. Above is the temple."

234. In Black Book 4, Jung noted: "Thereafter I walk on like a man who is tense, and who expects something new that he has never suspected before. I listen to the depths -- warned, instructed, and undaunted -- outwardly striving to lead a full human life" (p. 42).

235. These lines refer to the end of Voltaire's Candide: "All that is well said -- but we must cultivate our garden" (Candide and Other Stories, tr. R. Pearson [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1759/1998], pp. 392-93). Jung kept a bust of Voltaire in his study.

236. The Draft continues: "How can I fathom what will happen during the next eight hundred years, up to the time when the One begins his rule? I am speaking only of what is to come" (p. 440).

237. The scene in the landscape resembles one of Jung's waking fantasies during his childhood in which Alsace is submerged by water. Basle is turned into a port, there is a ship with sails and a steamer, a medieval town, a castle with cannons and soldiers and inhabitants of the town, and a canal (Memories, p. 100).

238. January 23, 1914.

239. In Ecce Homo, Nietzsche wrote: "Every acquisition, every step forward in is the result of courage, of severity toward oneself, of cleanliness with respect to oneself" [tr. R.]. Hollingdale [Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979], foreword 3, p. 34).

240. Inscription on top: "Amor triumphat." Inscription at bottom: "This image was completed on 9 January 1921, after it had waited incomplete for 9 months. It expresses I know not what kind of grief, a fourfold sacrifice. I could almost choose not to finish it. It is the inexorable wheel of the four functions, the essence of all living beings imbued with sacrifice." The functions are those of thinking, feeling, sensation, and intuition, which Jung wrote about in Psychological Types (1921). On February 23, 1920, Jung noted in Black Book 7: "What occurs between the lover and the beloved is the entire fullness of the Godhead. Both are unfathomable riddles to each other. For who understands the Godhead? / But the God is born in solitude, from the secret / mystery of the individual. / The separation between life and love is the contradiction between solitude and togetherness" (p. 88). The next entry in Black Book 7 is on September 5, 1921. On March 4, 1920, Jung went to North Africa with his friend Hermann Sigg, returning on April 17.

241. In Black Book 4, Jung noted: [Soul:] "Tame your impatience. Only waiting will help you here." [I:] "Waiting -- I know this word. Hercules also found waiting troublesome when he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders." [Soul:] "He had to await Atlas's return and carried the weight of the world for the sake of the apples" (p. 60). The reference is to the eleventh labor of Hercules, in which he has to get the golden apples, which confer immortality. Atlas offered to get them for him, if he held up the world in the interim.

242. In Greek mythology, the Moirae, or three fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropus, spun and controlled the threads of human life. In Norse mythology, the norns spun the threads of fate at the foot of Yggsdrasil, the world tree.

243. The Draft continues: "The power of the way is so great that it carries away others and ignites them. You do not know how this happens; hence it is best you call this effect magical" (p. 453).

244. The Draft continues: "which is represented as a serpent precisely on account of its particular nature" (p. 453).

245. This appears to refer to the magical circle, in which ritual acts are performed.

246. In Matthew 24:40, Christ rebukes his disciples for having been unable to remain awake for an hour while he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane.

247. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "29/11/1922." This appears to refer to when this passage was transcribed.

248. Inscription: "Completed on 25 November 1922. The fire comes out of Muspilli and grasps the tree of life. A cycle is completed, but it is the cycle within the world egg. A strange God, the unnameable God of the solitary; is incubating it. New creatures form from the smoke and ashes." In Norse mythology Muspilli (or Muspelheim) is the abode of the Fire Gods.

249. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "25 February 1923. The transformation of black into white magic."

250. January 27, 1914.

251. The Draft continues: "the serpent of my way" (p. 460).

252. In Black Book 4, this is spoken by his soul. In this chapter and in Scrutinies, we find a shift in the attribution of some statements in the Black Books from the soul to the other characters. This textual revision marks an important psychological process of the characters, separating them out from one another, and disidentifying from them. Jung discussed this process in in 1928, in The Relations between the I and Unconscious, ch. 7. ''The technique for differentiation between the I and the figures of the unconscious" (CW 7). In Black Book 6, the soul explains to Jung in 1916: "If I am not conjoined through the uniting of the Below and the Above, I break down into three parts: the serpent, and in that or some other animal form I roam, living nature daimonically, arousing fear and longing. The human soul, living forever within you. The celestial soul, as such dwelling with the Gods, far from you and unknown to you, appearing in the form of a bird." (Appendix C, p. 370). The textual changes that Jung makes among the soul, the serpent, and the bird from the Black Books in this chapter and in Scrutinies can be seen to be the recognition and differentiation of the threefold nature of the soul. Jung's notion of the unity and multiplicity of the soul resembles Eckhart's. In Sermon 52, Eckhart wrote: "the soul with her higher powers touches eternity, which is God, while her lower powers being in touch with time make her subject to change and biased toward bodily things, which degrade her" (Sermons & Treatises, vol. 2, tr. M. O'C. Walshe [London: Watkins, 1981], p. 55). In Sermon 85, he wrote: "Three things prevent the soul from uniting with God. The first is that she is too scattered, and that she is not unitary: for when the soul is inclined toward creatures, she is not unitary. The second is when she is involved with temporal things. The third is when she is turned toward the body, for then she cannot unite with God" (ibid., p. 264).

253. The Draft continues: "'Why,' you ask, 'does man not want to reach himself?' The raging prophet who preceded this time wrote a book about this and embellished it with a proud name. The book is about how and why man does not want to reach himself " (p. 461). The reference is to Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

254. See "The last Supper," Thus Spoke Zarathustra, p. 294f.

255. In the last chapter of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, "The sign," when the higher men come to meet Zarathustra in his cave, "the lion started violently, suddenly turned away from Zarathustra, and leaped up to the cave, roaring fiercely" (p. 407). In 1926 Jung noted: "The roaring of the Zarathustrian lion drove all the 'higher' men who were clamoring for experience back again into the cavern of the unconscious. Hence his life does not convince us of his teaching" (The Unconscious in Normal and Sick Psychic Life, CW 7. §37).

256. Nietzsche ends Thus Spoke Zarathustra with the lines: "Thus spoke Zarathustra and left his cave, glowing and strong, like a morning sun emerging from behind dark clouds" (p. 336).

257. In Zarathustra's prologue, a tightrope walker falls from a rope. Zarathustra says to the injured tightrope walker: "Your soul will be dead even before your body; therefore nothing any ' (Zarathustra, §6, 48; as underlined in Jung's copy, p. 22). In 1926 Jung argued that this was prophetic of Nietzsche's own fate (The Unconscious in Normal and Sick Psychic CW 7. §36-44).

258. For Jung's differentiation of the significance of signs and symbols, see Psychological Types (1921, CW 6, §814ff).

259. The mandrake is a plant whose roots bear some resemblance to the human figure, hence they have been used in magical rites. According to legend, they shriek when they are pulled from the ground. In "The philosophical tree" (1945), Jung noted that the magical mandrake "when tied to the tail of a black dog, shrieks when it is torn out of the earth" (CW 13, §410).

260. The Draft continues: "Everything is forever the same and yet not, for the wheel rolls along on a long road. But the way leads through valleys and across mountains. The movement of the wheel and the eternal recurrence of its parts is essential to the carriage, but meaning lies in the way. Meaning is attained only through the wheel's constant revolution and forward movement. The recurrence of the past is inherent in forward movement. This can only baffle the ignorant person. Ignorance makes us resist the necessary recurrence of the same, or greed allows the wheel to toss us up and away in its upward movement because we believe that we will rise ever higher with this part of the wheel. But we will not rise higher, but deeper; ultimately we will be at the very bottom. Thus praise standstill, since it shows you that you are not bound to the spokes like Ixion, but sit alongside the charioteer who will interpret the meaning of the way to you" (pp. 469-70). In Greek mythology Ixion was the son of Ares. He tried to seduce Hera, and Zeus punished him by binding him to a fiery wheel that rolled unceasingly.

261. The notion that everything recurs is found in various traditions, such as Stoicism and Pythagoreanism, and features prominently in Nietzsche's work. There has been much debate in Nietzsche studies as to whether it should primarily be understood as an ethical imperative of life affirmation or as cosmological doctrine. See Karl Lowith, Nietzsche's Doctrine of the Eternal Recurrence of the Same, tr.]. Lomax (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997). Jung discusses this in 1934, Nietzsche's Zarathustra, vol. I, pp. 191-92.

262. The Handwritten Draft has instead: "Tenth Adventure" (p. 1061).

263. January 27, 1914.

264. In the Metamorphoses, Ovid tells the tale of Philemon and Baucis. Jupiter and Mercury wandered disguised as mortals, in the hill country of Phyrgia. They searched for somewhere to rest but were barred by a thousand homes. An old couple finally took them in. The couple had been married in their cottage in their youth, grew old together, and contentedly accepted their poverty. They prepared a meal for their guests. During the meal, the couple saw that the flagon automatically refilled itself as soon as it was emptied. In honor of their guests, the couple offered to kill their sole goose. The goose took refuge with the Gods, who said that it should not be killed. Jupiter and Mercury then revealed themselves and told the couple that their neighborhood would be punished, but that they would be spared. They asked the couple to climb the mountain with them. When they reached the top, the couple saw that the country surrounding their cottage had been flooded and only their cottage remained; it had been transformed into a temple with marble columns and a gold roof. The Gods asked what the couple would like, and Philemon replied that they would like to be their priests and serve in their shrine, and also that they could die at the same time. Their wish was granted, and as they died, they transformed into trees side by side. In Goethe's Faust 2, act V, a wanderer, who had previously been saved by them, calls upon Philemon and Baucis. Faust was in the process of building a city on land reclaimed from the sea. Faust proceeds to tell Mephistopheles that he wants Philemon and Baucis moved. Mephistopheles and three mighty men go and burn the cottage, with Philemon and Baucis in it. Faust replies that he had only intended to exchange their dwelling. To Eckermann, Goethe recounted that "My Philemon and Baucis ... have nothing to do with that renowned ancient couple or the tradition connected with them. I gave this couple the names merely to elevate the characters. The persons and relations are similar, and hence the use of the names has a good effect" (June 6, 1831, cited in Goethe, Faust, tr. W Arndt [New York: Norton Critical Edition, 1976), p. 428). On June 7, 1955, Jung wrote a letter to Alice Raphael which refers to Goethe's comments to Eckermann: ''Ad Philemon and Baucis: a typical Goethean answer to Eckermann! trying to conceal his vestiges. Philemon (Image [philema] = kiss), the loving one, the simple old loving couple, close to the earth and aware of the Gods, the complete opposite to the Superman Faust, the product of the devil. Incidentally: in my tower at Bollingen is a hidden inscription: Philemon sacrum Fausti poenitentia [Philemon's Sanctuary, Faust's Repentance]. When I first encountered the archetype of the old wise man, he called himself Philemon. / In Alchemy Ph. and B. represented the artifex or vir sapiens and the soror mystica (Zosimos-Theosebeia, Nicolas Flamel-Peronelle, Mr. South and his daughter in the XIXth Cent.) and the pair in the mutus liber (about 1677)" (Beinecke Library, Yale University). On Jung's inscription, see also his letter to Hermann Keyserling, January 2, 1928 (Letters I, p. 49). On January 5, 1942, Jung wrote to Paul Schmitt, "I have taken over Faust as my heritage, and moreover as the advocate of Philemon and Baucis, who, unlike Faust the superman, are the hosts of the gods in a ruthless and godforsaken age" (Letters 1, pp. 309-10).

265. In Psychological Types (1921), in the course of a discussion of Faust, Jung wrote: "The magician has preserved in himself a trace of primordial paganism, he possesses a nature that is still unaffected by the Christian splitting, which means he has access to the unconscious, which is still pagan, where the opposites still lie in their original naive state, beyond all sinfulness, but, if assimilated into conscious life, produce evil and good with the same primordial and consequently daimonic force. Therefore he is a destroyer as well as savior. This figure is therefore pre-eminently suited to become the symbol carrier for an attempt at unification" (CW 6, §316).

266. The sixth and seventh books of Moses (i.e., in addition to the five contained in the Torah) were published in 1849 by Johann Schiebel, who claimed that they came from ancient Talmudic sources. The work is a compendium of Kabbalistic magical spells, which has been enduringly popular.

267. The figure of Hermes Trismegistus was formed through the amalgamation of Hermes with the Egyptian God Thoth. The Corpus Hermeticum, a collection of largely alchemical and magical texts dating from the early Christian era but initially thought to have been much older, was ascribed to him.

268. In Goethe's Faust, Philemon speaks of his declining powers: "Older, I could not lend a hand [to the building of the dyke] / as once I did full well, / and with my powers ebbing / the waters were pushed back" (Ll. 11087-9)

269. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "Jan. 1924." This seems to refer to when this passage was transcribed into the calligraphic volume. The writing at this point gets larger, with more space between the words. At this time, Cary Baynes commenced her transcription.

270. In Psychological Types (1921) Jung wrote: "Reason can only give one equilibrium if one's reason is already an equilibrating organ ... As a rule, man needs the opposite of his actual condition to force him to find his place in the middle" 6, §386).

271. The Draft continues: "Magical practice hence falls into two parts: developing an understanding of chaos; and second, translating the essence into what can be understood" (p. 484).

272. The Draft continues: "Reason takes up only a very small share of magic. This will offend you. Age and experience are needed. The rash desirousness and fear of youth, as well as its necessary virtuousness, disturb the secret interplay of God and the devil. You are then all too easily torn to one side or the other, blinded or paralyzed" (p. 484).

273. The reference is to the astrological conception of the Platonic month, or aeon, of Pisces, which is based on the precession of the equinoxes. Each Platonic month consists of one zodiacal sign, and lasts approximately 2,300 years. Jung discusses the symbolism attached to this in Aion (1951, CW 6, ch. 6). He notes that around 7 BC there was a conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, representing a union of extreme opposites, which would place the birth of Christ under Pisces. Pisces (Latin for "fishes") is known as the sign of the fish and is often represented by two fish swimming in opposite directions. On the Platonic months, see Alice Howell, Jungian Synchronicity in Astrological Signs and Ages (Wheaton, IL: Quest Books, 1990), p. 125f. Jung started studying astrology in 1911, in the course of his study of mythology, and learned to cast horoscopes (Jung to Freud, May 8, 1911, The Freud/Jung Letters, p. 421). Leclercq's L'Astrologie Grecque on nine occasions in his later work (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1899).

274. This refers to the end of the Platonic month of Pisces and the beginning of the Platonic month of Aquarius. The precise dating of this is uncertain. In Aion (1951), Jung noted: "Astrologically the beginning of the next aeon, according to the starting point you select, falls between AD 2000 and 2200" (CW 9, 2, §149, note 88).

275. In Aion (1951), Jung wrote: "If, as seems probable, the aeon of the fishes is ruled by the archetypal motif of the 'hostile brothers,' then the approach of the next Platonic month. namely Aquarius, will constellate the problem of the union of opposites. It will then no longer be possible to write off evil as a mere privatio boni; its real existence will have to be recognized" (CW 9, §142).

276. The Draft continues: "The hibernal rains began with Christ. He taught mankind the way to Heaven. We teach the way to earth. Hence nothing has been removed from the Gospel, but only added to it" (p. 486).

277. The Draft continues: "Our striving focused on sagacity and intellectual superiority, and we hence developed all our cleverness. But the extraordinary extent of stupidity inherent in all men was disregarded and denied. But if we accept the other in us, we also evoke the particular stupidity of our nature. Stupidity is one of man's strange hobbyhorses. There is something divine about it, and yet something of the megalomania of the world. Which is why stupidity is really large. It keeps away everything that could induce us to intelligence. It leaves everything not understood which is not naturally supposed to demand understanding. This particular stupidity occurs in thought and in life. Somewhat deaf, somewhat blind, it brings about necessary fate and keeps from us the virtuousness coupled with rationality. It is what separates and isolates the mixed seeds of life, affording us thus with a clear view of good and evil, and of what is reasonable and what not. But many people are logical in their lack of reason" (p. 487).

278. In this paragraph, Jung refers to the classical account of Philemon and Baucis from the Metamorphoses.

279. Contrast with John 1:5, where Christ is described as follows: "The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it."

280. Cf. Jung's fantasy of June 1, 1916, where Philemon's guest was Christ (see below, p. 359).

281. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "The bhagavadgita says: whenever there is a decline of the law and an increase in iniquity, then I put forth myself. For the rescue of the pious and for the destruction of the evildoers, for the establishment of the law I am born in every age." The citation is from chapter 4, verses 7-8 of the Bhagavad Gita. Krishna is instructing Arjuna concerning the nature of truth.

282. The text in the image reads: "Father of the Prophet, beloved Philemon." Jung subsequently painted another version of this painting as a mural in one of the bedrooms in his tower at Bollingen. He added an inscription in Latin from the Rosarium Philosophorum, in which Hermes describes the stone as saying: "defend me and I will defend thee, give me my right that I may help thee, for Sol is mine and the beams thereof are my inward parts; but Luna is proper to me, and my light excelleth all light, and my goods are higher than all goods. I give many riches and delights to men desiring them, and when I seek after anything they acknowledge it, I make them understand and I cause them to possess divine strength. I engender light, but my nature is darkness. Unless my metal should be dry, all bodies have need of me, because I moisten them. I blot out their rustiness and extract their substance. Therefore I and my son being joined together, there can be nothing made better nor more honorable in the whole world." Jung cited some of these lines in Psychology and Alchemy (1944, CW 12., §§99, 140, 155). The Rosarium, first published in 1550, was one of the most important texts of European alchemy, and concerns the means of producing the philosopher's stone. It contained a series of woodcuts of symbolic figures, which was Jung's exemplar in Psychology of the Transference. Explained through an Alchemical Series of Pictures. For Doctors and Practical Psychologists (1946, CW 16).

283. In "The psychological aspects of the Kore" (1951), Jung anonymously described this image as "xi. Then she [the anima] appears in a church, taking the place of the altar, still over-life-size but with veiled face." He commented: "Dream xi restores the anima to the Christian church, not as an icon but as the altar itself. The altar is the place of sacrifice and also the receptacle for consecrated relics" (CW 9, 1, §369. 380). On the left-hand side, there is the Arabic word for "daughters." On the border of the image is the following inscription: "Dei sapientia in mysterio quae abscondita est, quam praedestinavit ante secula in gloriam nostram quam nemo princip[i]um huius seculi cognovit. Spiritus enim omnia scrutatur etiam profunda dei [Google translate: Which is hidden in the mystery of the wisdom of God, destined before the worlds unto our glory: which none of the princes of this world knew. For the Spirit searches everything, even the deep things of God.]" This is a citation from 1 Corinthians 2:7-10. (Jung has omitted "Deus" before "ante secula.") The portions cited are marked here in italics: "But we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, even the hidden wisdom, which God ordained before the world unto our glory: which none of the princes of the world knew: for had they known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. But God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit: for the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God." On either side of the arch is the following inscription: "Spirirus et sponsa dicunt veni et qui audit dicat veni et qui sit it veniat qui vult accipiat aquam vitae gratis." The text is from Revelation 22:17: "the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Above the arch is the following inscription: "ave virgo virginum [Google translate: Hail virgin of virgins.]." This is the title of a medieval hymn.

284. January 29, 1914.

285. From this point in the calligraphic volume, Jung's coloring of red and blue initials becomes less consistent. Some have been added here for consistency.

286. This line is not in Black Book 4, where the voice is not identified as the serpent.

287. January 31, 1914.

288. In Mysterium Coniunctionis (1955/56), Jung noted: "If the projected conflict is to be healed, it must return into the soul of the individual, where it had its beginnings in an unconscious manner. He who wants to be the master of this descent must celebrate a Last Supper with himself, and eat his own flesh and drink his own blood; which means that he must recognize and accept the other in himself" (CW 14, §512.).

289. Cf. Isaiah 11:6: "The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them."

290. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "XIV AUG. 1925." This appears to refer to when this passage was transcribed into the calligraphic volume. In the autumn of 1925, Jung went to Africa, together with Peter Baynes and George Beckwith. They left England on October 15, and he arrived back in Zurich on March 14, 1926.

291. The twelfth-century tale of the adulterous romance between the Cornish knight Tristan and the Irish princess Isolde has been retold in many versions, up to Wagner's opera, which Jung referred to as an example of the visionary mode of artistic creation ("Psychology and poetry: 1930, CW 15, §142).

292. This sentence is not in Black Book 4.

293. This sentence is not in Black Book 4.

294. Jung commented on the comparison of Christ with the serpent in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), CW B, §585 and in Aion (1950), CW 9, 2, §291.

295. Cf. Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), CW B, §585.

296. Image legend: "9 January 1927 my friend Hermann Sigg died age 52." Jung described this as "A luminous flower in the center, with stars rotating about it. Around the flower, walls with eight gates. The whole conceived as a transparent window." This mandala was based on a dream noted on January 2, 1927 (see above, p. 217). From the 'town map,' the relation between the dream and the painting is clear (see Appendix A). He anonymously reproduced this in 1930 in "Commentary to the 'Secret of the Golden Flower,'" from which this description is taken. He reproduced it again in 1952, and added the following commentary: "The rose in the center is depicted as a ruby; its outer ring being conceived as a wheel or a wall with gates (so that nothing can come out from inside or go in from outside)." The mandala was a spontaneous product from the analysis of a male patient. After narrating the dream. Jung added: "The dreamer went on: 'I tried to paint this dream. But as so often happens, it came out rather different. The magnolia turned into a sort of rose made of ruby-colored glass. It shone like a four-rayed star. The square represents the wall of the park and at the same time a street leading around the park in a square. From it there radiate eight main streets, and from each of these eight side-streets, which meet in a shining red central point, rather like the Etoile in Paris. The acquaintance mentioned in the dream lived in a house at the corner of one of these stars. The mandala thus combines the classic motifs of flower, star, circle, precinct (temenos), and plan of city divided into quarters with citadel. The whole thing seemed like a window opening on to eternity;' wrote the dreamer" ("Concerning mandala symbolism," CW 9, 1, §654-55). In 1955/56 he used this same expression to denote the illustration of the self (Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW 14, §763). On October 7, 1932, Jung showed this mandala in a seminar, and commented on it the next day. In this account, he states that the painting of the mandala preceded the dream: "You remember possibly the picture that I showed you last evening, the central stone and the little jewels round it. It is perhaps interesting if I tell you about the dream in connection with it. I was the perpetrator of that mandala at a time when I had not the slightest idea what a mandala was, and in my extreme modesty I thought, I am the jewel in the center and those little lights are surely very nice people who believe that they are also jewels, but smaller ones ... I thought very well of myself that I was able to express myself like that: my marvelous center here and I am right in my heart." He added that at first he did not recognize that the park was the same as the mandala which he had painted, and commented: "Now Liverpool is the center of life -- liver is the center of life -- and I am not the center. I am the fool who lives in a dark place somewhere. I am one of those little side lights. In that way my Western prejudice that I was the center of the mandala was corrected -- that I am everything, the whole show, the king, the god" (The Psychology of Kundalini Yoga, p. 100). In Memories, Jung added some further details (pp. 223-24).

297. February 1, 1914.

298. Black Book 4 also has: "I lay these questions before you today, my soul" (p. 91). Here, the serpent is substituted for the soul.

299. Black Book 4: "You are playing Adam and Eve with me" (p. 93).

300. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "Visio."

301. Black Book 4: "Satan crawls out a dark hole with horns and tail, I pull him out by the hands" (p. 94).

302. The interlocutor is Satan.

303 For Jung's account of the significance of Satan, see Answer to Job (1952), CW II.

304 Jung discussed the issue of uniting the opposites at length in Psychological Types (1921), ch. 6, "The type problem in the poetic art." The uniting of the opposites takes place through the production of the reconciling symbol.

305. Black Book 4 has instead of this sentence: "Matters are not as intellectual and generally ethical with us as in Monism" (p. 96). The reference is to Ernst Haeckel's system of Monism, which Jung was critical of.

306. Cf. Jung, "Attempt at a psychological interpretation of the dogma of the trinity" (1940), CW 11.

307. Image legend: "1928. When I painted this image, which showed the golden well-fortified castle, Richard Wilhelm sent me from Frankfurt the Chinese, thousand-year-old text of the golden castle, the embryo of the immortal body. Ecclesia catholic et protestantes et seclusi in secreto. Aeon finitus. (A church both Catholic and Protestant shrouded in secrecy. The end of an aeon.) Jung described this as: A mandala as a fortified city with wall and moat. Within, a moat surrounding a wall fortified with sixteen towers and with another inner moat. This moat encloses a central castle with golden roofs whose centre is a golden temple. He anonymously reproduced this in 1930 in "Commentary on 'The Secret of the Golden Flower,'" from which this description is taken. He reproduced it again in 1952 in "Concerning mandala symbolism" and added the following commentary: "Painting of a medieval city with walls and moats, streets and churches, arranged quadratically. The inner city is again surrounded by walls and moats, like the Imperial City in Peking. The buildings all open inward, toward the center, represented by a castle with a golden roof. It too is surrounded by a moat. The ground round the castle is laid with black and white tiles, representing the united opposites. This mandala was done by a middle-aged man ... A picture like this is unknown in Christian symbolism. The Heavenly Jerusalem of Revelation is known to everybody. Coming to the Indian world of ideas, we find the city of Brahma on the world mountain, Meru. We read in the Golden Flower: 'The Book of the Yellow Castle says: "In the square inch field of the square foot house, life can be regulated." The square foot house is the face. The square inch field in the face: what could that be other than the heavenly heart? In the middle of the square inch dwells the splendor. In the purple hall of the city of Jade dwells the God of Utmost Emptiness and Life.' The Taoists call this center 'the land of ancestors or golden castle'" (CW 9, 1, §691). On this mandala, see John Peck. The Visio Dorothei: Desert Context, Imperial Setting, Later Alignments: Studies in the Dreams and Visions of Saint Pachomius and Dorotheus, Son of Quintus. Thesis, C. G. Jung Institute, Zurich, 1992, pp. 183-85.

308. This line links with the beginning of Sermon one, Scrutinies (see below, p. 346).

309. A reference to the account of creation in the book of Genesis.

310. The Cabiri were the deities celebrated at the mysteries of Samothrace. They were held to be promoters of fertility and protectors of sailors. Friedrich Creuzer and Schelling held them to be the primal deities of Greek mythology, from which all others developed (Symbolik und Mythologie der alten Volker [Leipzig: Leske, 1810-23]; The Deities of Samothrace [1815], introduced and translated by R. F. Brown [Missoula. MT: Scholars Press. 1977]). Jung had copies of both of these works. They appear in Goethe's Faust, part 2, act 2. Jung discussed the Cabiri in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912, CW B §209-11). In 1940 Jung wrote: "The Cabiri are, in fact, the mysterious creative powers, the gnomes who work under the earth, i.e., below the threshold of consciousness, in order to supply us with lucky ideas. As imps and hobgoblins, however, they also lay all sorts of nasty tricks, keeping back names and dates that were 'on the tip of the tongue,' making us say the wrong thing, etc. They give an eye to everything that has not already been anticipated by consciousness and the functions at its disposal ... deeper insight will show that the primitive and archaic qualities of the inferior function conceal all sorts of significant relationships and symbolic meanings, and instead of laughing off the Cabiri as ridiculous Tom Thumbs he may begin to suspect that they are a treasure-house of hidden wisdom" ("Attempt at a psychological interpretation of the dogma of the trinity:' CW 11, §244). Jung commented on the Cabiri scene in Faust in Psychology and Alchemy (1944, CW 12, §203f). The dialogue with the Cabiri that takes place here is not found in Black Book 4, but is in the Handwritten Draft. It may have been written separately; if so it would have been written prior to the summer of 1915.

311. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "Thereupon I laid this matter aside for three weeks."

312. In "Transformation symbolism in the mass" (1941), Jung noted that the motif of the sword played an important role in alchemy and discussed its significance as an instrument of sacrifice, its divisive and separative functions. He noted that 'The alchemical sword brings about the solutio or separatio elementorum, thereby restoring the original condition of chaos, so that a new and more perfect body can be produced by a new impressio formae or imaginatio" (CW 11, §357 & ff).

313. The notion here of overcoming madness is close to Schelling's distinction between the person who is overcome by madness and the person who manages to govern madness (see note 89, p. 238).

314. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "accipe quod tecum est. in collect. Mangeti in ultimis paginis" (Accept what is present. In the last pages of the Mangeti collection). It seems that this refers to the Bibliotheca chemica curiosa, seu rerum ad alchemiam pertinentium thesaurus instructissimus of J. J. Manget (1702), a collection of alchemical texts. Jung possessed a copy of this work, which has some slips of paper in it and some underlinings. Jung's note possibly refers to the last woodcut of the Mutus Liber, which concludes volume one of the Bibliotheca chemica curiosa, a representation of the completion of the alchemical opus, with a man being lifted upward by angels, while another lies prostrate.

315. In Psychological Types, Jung commented on the symbolism of the tower in his discussion of the vision of the tower in The Shepherd of Hermas (CW 6, §390ff). In 1920, Jung began planning his tower at Bollingen.

316. February 2, 1914.

317. Black Book 4 has: "soul" (p. 110).

318. In Goethe's Faust, Mephistopheles makes a pact with Faust that he will serve him in life on condition that Faust will serve him in the beyond (l. 1655).

319. The Corrected Draft has instead: "me with the serpent" (p. 521).

320. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "I still did not realize that I myself was this murderer."

321. February 9, 1914, Black Book 4 has: "soul" (p. 114).

322. Polygamy used to be practiced in Turkey. It was officially banned by Ataturk in 1926.

323. Jung's marginal note to the calligraphic volume: "In XI Cap. of the mystery play" (see above, p. 251).

324. Black Book 4 continues: "I: My principles -- it sounds stupid -- forgive me -- but I have principles. Do not think these are stale moral principles, for these are insights that life has imposed on me. / Serpent: What principles are these?" (pp. 121-22).

325. The issue of master and slave morality featured prominently in the first essay of Nietzsche's On the Genealogy of Morals (tr. D. Smith [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996]).

326. In the calligraphic volume, there is a blank space for a historiated initial.

327. February 11, 1914.

328. In Black Book 4, this figure is identified as "soul" (p. 131).

329. This sentence is added in the Draft, p. 533

330. The transcription in the calligraphic volume of Liber Novus ends at this point. What follows here is transcribed from the Draft, pp. 533-56.

331. This is a quotation from 1 Corinthians 13:8. Near the end of his life, Jung cited it again in his reflections on love at the end of Memories (p. 387). In Black Book 4, the inscription is first given in Greek letters (p. 134).

332. This sentence is added in the Draft (p. 534).

333. This figure is not identified as the serpent in Black Book 4.

334. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), Jung commented on the motif of hanging in folklore and mythology (CW B, §358).

335. There is a passage missing in Black Book 4, covering the end of this dialogue and the next paragraph.

336. Swedenborg described heavenly love as "loving uses for the sake of uses, or goods for the sake of goods, which a man performs for the Church, his country, human society, and a fellow-citizen," differentiating it from self love and love of the world (Heaven and Its Wonders and Hell: From Things Heard and Seen, tr. J. Rendell [London: Swedenborg Society, 1920], §554f).

337. In the Biblical account of creation, the sea and the land were separated on the third day.

338. John Keats's poem "Ode to a Grecian Urn" ends with these lines: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty, -- that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

339. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912, CW B), Jung argued that in the course of psychological development, the individual had to free himself from the figure of the mother, as depicted in heroic myths (see ch. 6, "The battle for deliverance from the mother").

340. In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido (1912), while discussing his concept of libido, Jung referred to the cosmogonic significance of Eros in Hesiod's Theogony, which he linked with the figure of Phanes in Orphism and with Kama, the Hindu God of love (CW B, §223).

341. In his later work, Jung gave importance to "enantiodromia," the principle that everything turns into its opposite, which he attributed to Heraclitus. See Psychological Types (1921), CW 6, §708f.

342. In the biblical account of the flood, the ark came to rest on Mount Ararat (Genesis 8:4). Ararat is a dormant volcanic cone formerly in Armenia (now Turkey).

343. In Norse mythology, Odin was pierced by a spear and hung from the world tree, Yggdrasill, where he hung for nine nights until he found the runes, which gave him power.

344. February 23, 1914. In Black Book 4, the dialogue is with the soul, and this section begins with Jung asking her what is stopping him from getting back to his work, and she tells him that it is his ambition. He thought he had overcome it, but she said that he had simply negated it, and thus tells him the tale that follows (p. 171). On February 13, 1914, Jung gave a talk, "On dream symbolism," to the Zurich Psychoanalytical Society From March 30 to April 13, Jung vacationed in Italy.

345. Black Book 4 has: "ambition" (p. 180).

346. Black Book 4 has "work" instead of "son" in the next few lines (p. 180).

347. April 19, 1914. The preceding paragraph was added in the Draft.

348. In Black Book 5, this dialogue is with his soul (p. 29f).

349. Black Book 5 has instead "Soul" (p. 37).

350. Black Book 5 has instead "with my soul" (p. 38).

351. This paragraph was added in the Draft.

352. The Corrected Draft has instead: "to myself" (p. 555).

353. The remainder is added in the Draft (p. 555f ).

354. In 1930, Jung stated: "A movement back into the Middle Ages is a sort of regression, but it is not personal. It is a historical regression, a regression into the past of the collective unconscious. This always takes place when the way ahead is not free, when there is an obstacle from which you recoil; or when you need to get something out of the past in order to climb over the wall ahead" (Visions, vol. I, p. 148). Around this time, Jung began working intensively on Medieval theology (see Psychological Types [1921], CW 6, ch. 1, "The type problem in the history of the mind in antiquity and the Middle Ages").

355. At this point, the Handwritten Draft has: "Finis," surrounded by a box (p. 1205).
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Re: The Red Book: Liber Novus, by C.G. Jung

Postby admin » Sun Dec 01, 2013 9:47 pm



{I} I resist, I cannot accept this hollow nothing that I am. What am I? What is my I? I always presuppose my I. Now it stands before me -- I before my I. I speak now to you, my I:

[1] We are alone and our being together threatens to become unbearably boring. We must do something, devise a pastime; for example, I could educate you. Let us begin with your main flaw, which strikes me first: you have no correct self-esteem. Have you no good qualities that you can be proud of? You believe that being capable is an art. But one can also learn such skills to some extent. Please, do so. You find it difficult -- well, all beginnings are difficult. [2] Soon you will be able to do it better. Do you doubt this? That is of no use; you must be able to do it, or else I cannot live with you. Ever since the God has arisen and spreads himself in whichever fiery heavens, to do whatever he does, what exactly I do not know, we have depended upon one another. Therefore you must think about improving, or else our life together will become wretched. So pull yourself together and value yourself! Don't you want to?

Pitiful creature! I will torment you a bit if you do not make an effort. What are you moaning about? Perhaps the whip will help?

Now that gets under your skin, doesn't it? Take that -- and that. What does it taste of? Of blood, presumably? Of the Middle Ages in majorem Dei gloriam? [3]

Or do you want love, or what goes by that name? One can also teach with love, if blows do not bear fruit. So should I love you? Press you tenderly to myself?

I truly believe that you are yawning.

How now, you want to speak? But I won't let you, otherwise in the end you will claim that you are my soul. But my soul is with the fire worm, with the son of the frog who has flown to the heavens above, to the upper sources. Do I know what he is doing there? But you are not my soul, you are my bare, empty nothing -- I, this disagreeable being, whom one cannot even deny the right to consider itself worthless.

One could despair over you: your sensitivity and desirousness exceed any reasonable measure. And I should live with you, of all people? I must, since the strange misfortune occurred that gave me a son and took him away.

I regret that I must speak such truths to you. Yes, you are laughably sensitive, self-righteous, unruly, mistrustful, pessimistic, cowardly, dishonest with yourself, venomous, vengeful; one can hardly speak about your childish pride, your craving for power, your desire for esteem, your laughable ambition, your thirst for fame without feeling sick. The playacting and pomposity become you badly and you abuse them to the best of your ability.

Do you believe that it is a pleasure rather than a horror to live together with you? No, three times no! But I promise you that I will tighten the vise around you and slowly pull off your skin. I will give you the chance to be flayed.

You, you of all people wanted to tell other people what to do?

Come here, I will stitch a cloth of new skin onto you, so that you can feel its effect.

You want to complain about others, and that one has done an injustice to you, not understood you, misinterpreted you, hurt your feelings, ignored you, not recognized you, falsely accused you, and what else? Do you see your vanity in this, your eternally ridiculous vanity?

You complain that the torment has not yet come to an end?

Let me tell you: it has only just begun. You have no patience and no seriousness. Only when it concerns your pleasure do you praise your patience. I will double the torment so that you learn patience.

You find the pain unbearable, but there are other things that hurt even more, and you can inflict them on others with the greatest naivety and absolve yourself all unknowingly.

But you will learn silence. For this I will pull out your tongue -- with which you have ridiculed, blasphemed and -- even worse -- joked. I will pin all your unjust and depraved words one by one to your body with needles so that you can feel how evil words stab.

Do you admit that you also derive pleasure from this torment? I will increase this pleasure until you vomit with joy so that you know what taking pleasure in self-torment means.

You rise against me? I am screwing the vise tighter, that's all. I will break your bones until there is no longer a trace of hardness there.

For I want to get along with you -- I must -- damn you -- you are my I, which I must carry around with me to the grave. Do you think that I want to have such foolishness around me all my life? If you were not my I, I would have torn you to pieces long ago.

But I am damned to haul you through a purgatory so that you too will become somewhat acceptable.

You call on God for help?

The dear old God has died, [4] and it is good that way, otherwise he would have had pity on your repentant sinfulness and spared me the execution by granting mercy. You must know that neither a God of love nor a loving God has yet arisen, but instead a worm of fire crawled up, a magnificent frightful entity that lets fire rain on the earth, producing lamentations. [5] So cry to the God, he will burn you with fire for the forgiveness of your sins. Coil yourself and sweat blood. You have needed this cure for a long time. Yes -- others always do wrong -- and you? You are the innocent, the correct, you must defend your good right and you have a good, loving God on your side, who always forgives sins with pity. Others must reach insight, not you, since you have a monopoly on all insight from the start and are always convinced that you are right. And so cry really loudly to your dear God -- he will hear you and let fire fall on you. Have you not noticed that your God has become a fiery worm with a flat skull who crawls red-hot on the earth?

You wanted to be superior! How laughable. You were, and are, inferior. Who are you, then? Scum that disgusts me.

Are you perhaps somewhat powerless? I place you in a corner where you can remain lying until you come to your senses again. If you no longer feel anything, the procedure is of no use. After all, we must proceed skillfully. It really says a lot about you that one needs such barbaric means for your amendment. Your progress since the early Middle Ages appears to be minuscule.


[6] Did you feel dejected today, inferior, debased? Shall I tell you why?

Your inordinate ambition is boundless. Your grounds are not focused on the good of the matter but on your vanity. You do not work for humanity but for your self-interest. You do not strive for the completion of the thing but for the general recognition and safeguarding of your own advantage. I want to honor you with a prickly crown of iron; it has teeth inside that bore themselves into your flesh.

And now we come to the vile swindle that you pursue with your cleverness. You speak skillfully and abuse your capability and discolor, tone down, strengthen, apportion light and shade, and loudly proclaim your honorableness and upright good faith. You exploit the good faith of others, you gloatingly catch them in your snares and speak of your benevolent superiority and the prize that you are for others. You play at modesty and do not mention your merit, in the certain hope that someone else will do it for you; you are disappointed and hurt if this doesn't happen.

You preach hypocritical composure. But when it really matters, are you calm? No, you lie. You consume yourself in rage and your tongue speaks cold daggers and you dream of revenge.

You are gloating and resentful. You begrudge the other the sunshine, since you would like to assign it to those whom you favor because they favor you. You are envious of all well-being around you and you impertinently assert the opposite.

Inside yourself you think unsparingly and coarsely only what always suits you, and with this you feel yourself above humanity and not in the least responsible. But you are responsible to humanity in everything that you think, feel, and do. Do not pretend there is a difference between thinking and doing. You rely only on your undeserved advantage, not to be compelled to say or do what you think and feel.

But you are shameless in everything where no one sees you. If another said that to you, you would be mortally offended, despite knowing that it is true. You want to reproach others for their failings? So that they better themselves? Yes, confess, have you bettered yourself? From where do you get the right to have opinions of others? What is your opinion about yourself? And what are the good grounds that support it? Your grounds are webs of lies covering a dirty corner. You judge others and charge them with what they should do. You do this because you have no order within yourself, because you are unclean.

And then -- how do you really think? It appears to me that you even think with men, regardless of their human dignity; you dare think by means of them, and use them as figures on your stage, as if they were how you conceive them? Have you ever considered that you thus commit a shameful act of power, as bad as that for which you condemn others, namely that they love their fellow men, as they claim, but in reality exploit them to their own ends. Your sin flourishes in seclusion, but it is no less great, remorseless, and coarse.

What is concealed in you I will drag out into the light, shameless one! I will crush your superiority under my feet.

Do not speak to me about your love. What you call love oozes with self-interest and desirousness. But you speak about it with great words, and the greater your words are, the more pathetic your so-called love is. Never speak to me of your love, but keep your mouth shut. It lies.

I want you to speak about your shame, and that instead of speaking great words, you utter a discordant clamor before those whose respect you wanted to exact. You deserve mockery, not respect.

I will burn out of you the contents of which you were proud, so that you will become empty like a poured-out vessel. You should be proud of nothing more than your emptiness and wretchedness. You should be a vessel of life, so kill your idols.

Freedom does not belong to you, but form; not power, but suffering and conceiving.

You should make a virtue out of your self-contempt, which I will spread out before men like a carpet. They should walk over it with dirty feet and you should see to it that you are dirtier than all the feet that step on you.

[7] If I tame you, beast, I give others the opportunity to tame their beasts. The taming begins with you, my I, nowhere else. Not that you, stupid brother I, had been particularly wild. There are some who are wilder. But I must whip you until you endure the wildness of the others. Then I can live with you. If someone does you wrong, I will torment you to death, until you have forgiven the wrong suffered, yet not just by paying lip service, but also in your heavy heart with its heinous sensitivity. Your sensitivity is your particular form of violence.

Therefore listen, brother in my solitude, I have prepared every kind of torture for you, if it should ever occur to you again to be sensitive. You should feel inferior. You should be able to bear the fact that one calls your purity dirty and that one desires your dirtiness, that one praises your wastefulness as miserliness and your greed as a virtue.

Fill your beaker with the bitter drink of subjugation, since you are not your soul. Your soul is with the fiery God who flamed up to the roof of the heavens.


Should you still be sensitive? I notice that you are forging secret plans for revenge, plotting deceitful tricks. But you are an idiot, you cannot take revenge on fate. Childish one, you probably even want to lash the sea. Build better bridges instead; that is a better way to squander your wit.

You want to be understood? That's all we needed! Understand yourself, and you will be sufficiently understood. You will have quite enough work in hand with that. Mothers' little dears want to be understood. Understand yourself, that is the best protection against sensitivity and satisfies your childish longing to be understood. I suppose you want to turn others into slaves of your desirousness again? But you know that I must live with you and that I will no longer tolerate such abject plaintiveness. [8]


{2} After I had spoken these and many more angry words to my I, I noticed that I began to bear being alone with myself. But the touchiness still stirred in me frequently and I had to lash myself just as often. And I did this until even the pleasure in self-torment faded. [9]

[10] Then I heard a voice one night; it came from afar and was the voice of my soul. She spoke: "How distant you are!"

I: "Is that you my soul, from which height and distance do you speak?"

S: "I am above you. I am a world apart. I have become sunlike. I received the seeds of fire. Where are you? I can hardly find you in your mists."

I: "I am down on the murky earth, in the dark smoke that the fire left us, and my gaze does not reach you. But your voice sounds closer."

S: "I feel it. The heaviness of the earth penetrates me, damp cold enshrouds me, gloomy memories of former pain overcome me."

I: "Do not lower yourself into the smoke and the darkness of the earth. I would like that which I am still working on to remain sunlike. Otherwise I will lose the courage to live further down in the darkness of the earth. Let me just hear your voice. I will never want to see you in the flesh again. Say something! Take it from the depths, from which fear perhaps flows to me."

S: "I cannot, since your creative source flows from there."

I: "You see my uncertainty."

S: "The uncertain way is the good way. Upon it lie possibilities. Be unwavering and create."

I heard the rushing of wings. I knew that the bird rose higher, above the clouds in the fiery brilliance of the outspread Godhead.

[11] I turned to my brother, the I; he stood sadly and looked at the ground and sighed, and would rather have been dead, since the burden of enormous suffering burdened him. But a voice spoke from me and said:

"It is hard -- the sacrificed fall left and right -- and you will be crucified for the sake of life."

And I said to my I: "My brother, how do you like this speech?"

But he sighed deeply and moaned: "It is bitter, and I suffer much."

To which I answered: "I know, but it is not to be altered." But I did not know what that was, since I still did not know what the future held (this happened on the 21st May of the year 1914). In the excess of suffering I looked up to the clouds and called out to my soul and asked her. And I heard her voice, happy and bright, and she answered:

"Much happiness has happened to me. I rise higher, my wings grow."

I was seized with bitterness at these words and I cried: "You live from the blood of the human heart."

I heard her laughing -- or was she not laughing? "No drink is dearer to me than red blood."

Powerless anger seized me and I called out: "If you were not my soul who followed the God to the eternal realm, I would call you the most terrible scourge of men. But who moves you? I know that divinity is not humanity. The divine consumes the human. I know that this is the severity, this is the cruelty; he who has felt you with his hands can never remove the blood from his hands. I have become enslaved to you."

She answered: "Do not be angry, do not complain. Let the bloody victims fall at your side. It is not your severity, it is not your cruelty, but necessity. The way of life is sown with fallen ones."

I: "Yes, I see, it is a battlefield. My brother, what is with you? Are you groaning?"

Then my I answered: "Why should I not groan and moan? I load myself with the dead and cannot haul their number."

But I did not understand my I and therefore spoke to him: "You are a pagan, my friend! Have you not heard that it is said, let the dead bury their dead? [12] Why do you want to be burdened with the dead? You do not help them by hauling them."

Then my I wailed: "But I pity the poor fallen ones, they cannot reach the light. Perhaps if I haul them --?"

I: "What is this? Their souls have accomplished as much as they could. Then they encountered fate. It will also happen to us. Your compassion is sick."

But my soul called from afar: "Leave him compassion, compassion binds life and death."

These words of my soul stung me. She spoke of compassion, she, who rose up following the God without compassion, and I asked her:

[13] "Why did you do that?"

For my human sensitivity could not grasp the hideousness of that hour. She answered:

"It is not meant for me to be in your world. I besmirch myself on the excrement of your earth."

I: "Am I not earth? Am I not excrement? Did I commit an error that forced you to follow the God into the upper realms?"

S: "No, it was inner necessity. I belong to the Above."

I: "Has no one suffered an irreplaceable loss through your disappearance?"

S: "On the contrary; you have enjoyed utmost benefit."

I: "If I heed my human feeling about this, doubt could come over me."

S: "What have you noticed? Why should what you see always be untrue? It is your particular wrong that you cannot stop making a fool of yourself. Can you not remain on your way for once?"

I: "You know that I doubt, because of my love for men."

S: "No, for the sake of your weakness, for the sake of your doubt and disbelief. Stay on your way and do not run away from yourself. There is a divine and a human intention. They cross each other in stupid and godforsaken people, to whom you also belong from time to time."

Since what my soul spoke about referred to nothing that I could see, nor could I see what my I suffered from (since this happened two months before the outbreak of the war), I wanted to understand it all as personal experiences within me, and consequently I could neither understand nor believe it all, since my belief is weak. And I believe that it is better in our time if belief is weak. We have outgrown that childhood where mere belief was the most suitable means to bring men to what is good and reasonable. Therefore if we wanted to have a strong belief again today, we would thus return to that earlier childhood. But we have so much knowledge and such a thirst for knowledge in us that we need knowledge more than belief. But the strength of belief would hinder us from attaining knowledge. Belief certainly may be something strong, but it is empty, and too little of the whole man can be involved, if our life with God is grounded only on belief. Should we simply believe first and foremost? That seems too cheap to me. Men who have understanding should not just believe, but should wrestle for knowledge to the best of their ability. Belief is not everything, but neither is knowledge. Belief does not give us the security and the wealth of knowing. Desiring knowledge sometimes takes away too much belief. Both must strike a balance.

But it is also dangerous to believe too much, because today everyone has to find his own way and encounters in himself a beyond full of strange and mighty things. He could easily take everything literally with too much belief and would be nothing but a lunatic. The childishness of belief breaks down in the face of our present necessities. We need differentiating knowledge to clear up the confusion which the discovery of the soul has brought in. Therefore it is perhaps much better to await better knowledge before one accepts things all too believingly. [14]

From these considerations I spoke to my soul:

"Is all that to be accepted? You know in what sense I ask this. It is not stupid and unbelieving to ask thus, but is doubting of a higher type."

To this she answered: "I understand you -- but it is to be accepted."

To which I replied: "The solitude of this acceptance terrifies me. I dread the madness that befalls the solitary."

She answered: "As you already know, I have long predicted solitude for you. You need not be afraid of madness. What I predict is valid."

These words filled me with disquiet, since I felt that I could almost not accept what my soul predicted, because I did not understand it. I always wanted to understand it with regard to myself. Therefore I said to my soul: "What misunderstood fear torments me?"

"That is your disbelief, your doubt. You do not want to believe in the size of the sacrifice that is required. But it will go on to the bitter end. Greatness requires greatness. You still want to be too cheap. Did I not speak to you of abandonment, of leaving be? Do you want to have it better than other men?"

"No," I replied, "No, that is not it. But I fear committing an injustice to men if I go my own way."

"What do you want to avoid?" she said; "there is no avoidance. You must go your way, unconcerned about others, no matter whether they are good or bad. You have laid your hand on the divine, which those have not."

I could not accept these words since I feared deception. Therefore I also did not want to accept this way that forced me into dialogue with my soul. I preferred to speak with men. But I felt compelled toward solitude and I feared at the same time the solitude of my thinking which departed from accustomed paths. [15] As I pondered this, my soul spoke to me: "Did I not predict dark solitude for you?"

"I know," I answered, "but I did not really think that it would happen. Must it be so?"

"You can only say yes. There is nothing to do other than for you to take care of your cause. If anything should happen, it can only happen on this way."

"So it is hopeless," I cried, "to resist solitude?"

"It is utterly hopeless. You should be forced into your work."

As my soul spoke thus, an old man with a white beard and a haggard face approached me. [16] I asked him what he wanted with me. To which he replied:

"I am a nameless one, one of the many who lived and died in solitude. The spirit of the times and the acknowledged truth required this from us. Look at me -- you must learn this. Things have been too good for you." [17]

"But," I replied, "is this another necessity in our so very different time?"

"It is as true today as it was yesterday. Never forget that you are a man and therefore you must bleed for the goal of humanity. Practice solitude assiduously without grumbling so that everything will in time become ready. You should become serious, and hence take your leave from science. There is too much childishness in it. Your way goes toward the depths. Science is too superficial, mere language, mere tools. But you must set to work." [18]

I did not know what work was mine, since everything was dark. And everything became heavy and doubtful and an endless sadness seized me and lasted for many days. Then, one night, I heard the voice of an old man. He spoke slowly, heavily, and his sentences appeared to be disconnected and terribly absurd, so that the fear of madness seized me again. [19] For he spoke the following words:

[20] "It is not yet the evening of days. The worst comes last.
The hand that strikes first, strikes best.
Nonsense streams from the deepest wells, amply like the Nile.
Morning is more beautiful than night.
Flowers smell until they fade.
Ripeness comes as late as possible in spring, or else it misses its purpose."


These sentences that the old man spoke to me on the night of the 25 May of the year 1914 appeared to me dreadfully meaningless. I felt my I squirm in pain. It moaned and wailed about the burden of the dead that rested on it. It seemed as if it had to carry a thousand dead.

This sadness did not leave until the 24th June 1914. [21] In the night my soul spoke to me: "The greatest comes to the smallest." After this nothing further was said. And then the war broke out. This opened my eyes about what I had experienced before, and it also gave me the courage to say all of that which I have written in the earlier part of this book.


{3} From there on the voices of the depths remained silent for a whole year. Again in summer, when I was out on the water alone, I saw an osprey plunge down not far from me; he seized a large fish and rose up into the skies again clutching it. [22] I heard the voice of my soul, and she spoke: "That is a sign that what is below is borne upward."

-- The Pictorial Language of Hieronymus Bosch, by Clement A. Wertheim Aymes

Soon after this on an autumn night I heard the voice of an old man (and this time I knew that it was Image). [23] He said: [24] "I want to turn you around. I want to master you. I want to emboss you like a coin. I want to do business with you. One should buy and sell you. [25] You should pass from hand to hand. Self-willing is not for you. You are the will of the whole. Gold is no master out of its own will and yet it rules the whole, despised and greedily demanded, an inexorable ruler: it lies and waits. He who sees it longs for it. It does not follow one around, but lies silently, with a brightly gleaming countenance, self-sufficient, a king that needs no proof of its power. Everyone seeks after it, few find it, but even the smallest piece is highly esteemed. It neither gives nor squanders itself. Everyone takes it where he finds it, and anxiously ensures that he doesn't lose the smallest part of it. Everyone denies that he depends on it, and yet he secretly stretches out his hand longingly toward it. Must gold prove its necessity? It is proven through the longing of men. Ask it: who takes me? He who takes it, has it. Gold does not stir. It sleeps and shines. Its brilliance confuses the senses. Without a word, it promises everything that men deem desirable. It ruins those to be ruined and helps those on the rise to ascend. [26]

A blazing hoard is piled up, it awaits the taker. What tribulations do men not take upon themselves for the sake of gold? It waits and does not shorten their tribulations -- the greater the tribulations, the greater the trouble, the more esteemed it is. It grows from underground, from the molten lava. It slowly exudes, hidden in veins and rocks. Man exerts all cunning to dig it out, to raise it."

But I called out dismayed: "What ambiguous speech, Oh Image!"

[27] But Image continued: "Not only to teach, but also to disavow, or why then did I teach? If I do not teach, I do not have to disavow. But if I have taught, I must disavow thereafter. For if I teach, I must give others what they should have taken. What he acquires is good, but the gift that was not acquired is bad. To waste oneself means to want to suppress many. Deceitfulness surrounds the giver because his own enterprise is deceitful. He is forced to revoke his gift and to deny his virtue.

The burden of silence is not greater than the burden of my self that I would like to load onto you. Therefore I speak and I teach. May the listener defend himself against my ruse, by means of which I burden him.

The best truth is also such a skillful deception that I also entangle myself in it as long as I do not realize the worth of a successful ruse."

And I was startled again and cried: "Oh Image, men have deceived themselves about you, therefore you deceive them. But he who fathoms you, fathoms himself."

[28] But Image fell silent and retired into the shimmering cloud of uncertainty. He left me to my thoughts. And it occurred to me that high barriers would still need to be erected between men, less to protect them against mutual burdens than against mutual virtues. It seemed to me as if the so-called Christian morality of our time made for mutual enchantment. How can anyone bear the burden of the other, if it is still the highest that one can expect from a man, that he at least bears his own burden.

But sin probably resides in enchantment. If I accept self-forgetting virtue, I make myself the selfish tyrant of the other, and I am thus also forced to surrender myself again in order to make another my master, which always leaves me with a bad impression and is not to the other's advantage. Admittedly, this interplay underpins society, but the soul of the individual becomes damaged since man thus learns always to live from the other instead of from himself. It appears to me that if one is capable, one should not surrender oneself as that induces, indeed even forces, the other to do likewise. But what happens if everyone surrenders themselves? That would be folly.

Not that it would be a beautiful or a pleasant thing to live with one's self but it serves the redemption of the self. Incidentally, can one give oneself up? With this one becomes one's own slave. That is the opposite of accepting oneself. If one becomes one's own slave -- and this happens to everyone who surrenders himself -- one is lived by the self. One does not live one's self; it lives itself. [29]

The self-forgetting virtue is an unnatural alienation from one's own essence, which is thus deprived of development. It is a sin to deliberately alienate the other from his self by means of one's own virtuousness, for example, through saddling oneself with his burden. This sin rebounds on us. [30]

It is submission enough, amply enough, if we subjugate ourselves to our self. The work of redemption is always first to be done on ourselves, if one dare utter such a great word. This work cannot be done without love for ourselves. Must it be done at all? Certainly not, if one can endure a given condition and does not feel in need of redemption. The tiresome feeling of needing redemption can finally become too much for one. Then one seeks to rid oneself of it and thus enters into the work of redemption.

It appears to me that we benefit in particular from removing every sense of beauty from the thought of redemption, and even need to do so, or else we will deceive ourselves again because we like the word and because a beautiful shimmer spreads out over the thing through the great word. But one can at least doubt whether the work of redemption is in itself a beautiful thing. The Romans did not find the hanged Jew exactly tasteful, and the gloomy excessive enthusiasm for catacombs around which cheap, barbaric symbols gathered probably lacked a pleasant shimmer in their eyes, given that their perverse curiosity for everything barbaric and subterranean had already been aroused.

I think it would be most correct and most decent to say that one blunders into the work of redemption unintentionally, so to speak, if one wants to avoid what appears to be the unbearable evil of an insurmountable feeling of needing redemption. This step into the work of redemption is neither beautiful nor pleasant nor does it divulge an inviting appearance. And the thing itself is so difficult and full of torment that one should count oneself as one of the sick and not as one of the overhealthy who seek to impart their abundance to others.

Consequently we should also not use the other for our own supposed redemption. The other is no stepping stone for our feet. It is far better that we remain with ourselves. The need for redemption rather expresses itself through an increased need for love with which we think we can make the other happy. But meanwhile we are brimming with longing and desire to alter our own condition. And we love others to this end. If we had already achieved our purpose, the other would leave us cold. But it is true that we also need the other for our own redemption. Perhaps he will lend us his help voluntarily, since we are in a state of sickness and helplessness. Our love for him is, and should not be, selfless. That would be a lie. For its goal is our own redemption. Selfless love is true only as long as the demand of the self can be pushed to one side. But someday comes the turn of the self. Who would want to lend himself to such a self for love? Certainly only one who does not yet know what excess of bitterness, injustice, and poison the self of a man harbors who has forgotten his self and made a virtue of it.

In terms of the self, selfless love is a veritable sin.

[31] We must presumably often go to ourselves to re-establish the connection with the self, since it is torn apart all too often, not only by our vices but also by our virtues. For vices as well as virtues always want to live outside. But through constant outer life we forget the self and through this we also become secretly selfish in our best endeavors. [32] What we neglect in ourselves blends itself secretly into our actions toward others.

Through uniting with the self we reach the God. [33]

I must say this, not with reference to the opinions of the ancients or this or that authority, but because I have experienced it. It has happened thus in me. And it certainly happened in a way that I neither expected nor wished for. The experience of the God in this form was unexpected and unwanted. I wish I could say it was a deception and only too willingly would I disown this experience. But I cannot deny that it has seized me beyond all measure and steadily goes on working in me. So if it is a deception, then deception is my God. Moreover, the God is in the deception. And if this were already the greatest bitterness that could happen to me, I would have to confess to this experience and recognize the God in it. No insight or objection is so strong that it could surpass the strength of this experience. And even if the God had revealed himself in a meaningless abomination, I could only avow that I have experienced the God in it. I even know that it is not too difficult to cite a theory that would sufficiently explain my experience and join it to the already known. I could furnish this theory myself and be satisfied in intellectual terms, and yet this theory would be unable to remove even the smallest part of the knowledge that I have experienced the God. I recognize the God by the unshakeableness of the experience. I cannot help but recognize him by the experience. I do not want to believe it, I do not need to believe it, nor could I believe it. How can one believe such? My mind would need to be totally confused to believe such things. Given their nature, they are most improbable. Not only improbable but also impossible for our understanding. Only a sick brain could produce such deceptions. I am like those sick persons who have been overcome by delusion and sensory deception. But I must say that the God makes us sick. I experience the God in sickness. A living God afflicts our reason like a sickness. He fills the soul with intoxication. He fills us with reeling chaos. How many will the God break?

The God appears to us in a certain state of the soul. Therefore we reach the God through the self. [34] [35] Not the self is God, although we reach the God through the self. The God is behind the self, above the self, the self itself, when he appears. But he appears as our sickness, from which we must heal ourselves. [36] We must heal ourselves from the God, since he is also our heaviest wound.

For in the first instance the God's power resides entirely in the self, since the self is completely in the God, because we were not with the self. We must draw the self to our side. Therefore we must wrestle with the God for the self. Since the God is an unfathomable powerful movement that sweeps away the self into the boundless, into dissolution.

Hence when the God appears to us we are at first powerless, captivated, divided, sick, poisoned with the strongest poison, but drunk with the highest health.

Yet we cannot remain in this state, since all the powers of our body are consumed like fat in the flames. Hence we must strive to free the self from the God, so that we can live. [37]

[38] It is certainly possible and even quite easy for our reason to deny the God and to speak only of sickness. Thus we accept the sick part and can also heal it. But it will be a healing with loss. We lose a part of life. We go on living, but as ones lamed by the God. Where the fire blazed dead ashes lie.

I believe that we have the choice: I preferred the living wonders of the God. I daily weigh up my whole life and I continue to regard the fiery brilliance of the God as a higher and fuller life than the ashes of rationality. The ashes are suicide to me. I could perhaps put out the fire but I cannot deny to myself the experience of the God. Nor can I cut myself off from this experience. I also do not want to, since I want to live. My life wants itself whole.

Therefore I must serve my self. I must win it in this way. But I must win it so that my life will become whole. For it seems to me to be sinful to deform life where there is yet the possibility to live it fully. The service of the self is therefore divine service and the service of mankind. If I carry myself, I relieve mankind of myself and heal my self from the God.

I must free my self from the God, [39] since the God I experienced is more than love; he is also hate, he is more than beauty, he is also the abomination, he is more than wisdom, he is also meaninglessness, he is more than power, he is also powerlessness, he is more than omnipresence, he is also my creature.


In the following night, I heard the voice of Image again and he said: [40]

"Draw nearer, enter into the grave of the God. The place of your work should be in the vault. The God should not live in you, but you should live in the God."

[41] These words disturbed me since I had thought before precisely to free myself from the God. But Image advised me to enter even deeper into the God.

Since the God has ascended to the upper realms, Image also has become different. He first appeared to me as a magician who lived in a distant land, but then I felt his nearness and, since the God has ascended, I knew that Image had intoxicated me and given me a language that was foreign to me and of a different sensitivity. All of this faded when the God arose and only Image kept that language. But I felt that he went on other ways than I did. Probably the most part of what I have written in the earlier part of this book was given to me by Image. [42]Consequently I was as if intoxicated. But now I noticed that Image assumed a form distinct from me.


{4} [43] Several weeks later, three shades approached me. I noticed from their chilly breath that they were dead. The first figure was that of a woman. She drew near and made a soft whirring sound, the whirring of the wings of the sun beetle. Then I recognized her. When she was still alive, she recovered the mysteries of the Egyptians for me, the red sun disk and the song of the golden wings. She remained shadowy and I could hardly understand her words. She said:

"It was night when I died -- you still live in the day -- there are still days, years ahead of you -- what will you begin -- let me have the word -- oh, that you cannot hear! How difficult -- give me the word!"

I answered dismayed: "I do not know the word that you seek."

But she cried: "The symbol, the mediator, we need the symbol, we hunger for it, make light for us."

"Wherefrom? How can I? I do not know the symbol that you demand."

But she insisted: "You can do it, reach for it."

And precisely at this moment the sign was placed in my hand and I looked at it filled with boundless astonishment. Then she spoke loudly and joyfully to me: [44]

"That is it, that is HAP, the symbol that we desired, that we needed. It is terribly simple, initially stupid, naturally godlike, the God's other pole. This is precisely the pole we needed."

"Why do you need HAP?" [45] I replied.

"He is in the light, the other God is in the night."

"Oh," I answered, "what's that, beloved? The God of the spirit is in the night? Is that the son? The son of the frogs? Woe betide us, if he is the God of our day!"

But the dead one spoke full of triumph:

"He is the flesh spirit, the blood spirit, he is the extract of all bodily juices, the spirit of the sperm and the entrails, of the genitals, of the head, of the feet, of the hands, of the joints, of the bones, of the eyes and ears, of the nerves and the brain; he is the spirit of the sputum and of excretion."

"Are you of the devil?" I exclaimed full of horror, "where does my flashing godly light remain?"

But she said: "Your body remains with you, my beloved, your living body. The enlightening thought comes from the body."

"What thought are you talking about? I recognize no such thought," I said.

"It crawls around like a worm, like a serpent, soon there, soon here, a blind newt of Hell."

"Then I must be buried alive. Oh horror! Oh rottenness! Must I attach myself completely, like a leech?"

"Yes, drink blood," she said, "suck it up, get your fill from the carcass, there is juice inside, certainly disgusting, but nourishing. You should not understand, but suck!"

"Damned horror! No, three times no," I cried in outrage.

But she said: "It should not irritate you, we need this meal, the life juices of men, since we want to share in your life. Thus we can draw closer to you. We want to give you tidings of what you need to know."

"That is horribly absurd! What are you talking about?"

[46] But she looked at me as she had done on the day I had last seen her among the living, and on which she showed me, unaware of its meaning, something of the mystery of what the Egyptians had left behind. And she said to me:

"Do it for me, for us. Do you recall my legacy, the red sun disk, the golden wings and the wreath of life and duration? Immortality, of this there are things to know."

"The way that leads to this knowledge is Hell."

[47] From this I sank into gloomy brooding since I suspected the heaviness and incomprehension and the immeasurable solitude of this way. And after a long struggle with all the weakness and cowardice in me, I decided to take upon myself this solitude of the holy error and the eternally valid truth. [48]

And in the third night I called to my dead beloved and asked her:

"Teach me the knowledge of the worms and the crawling creatures, open to me the darkness of the spirits!"

She whispered: "Give blood, so that I may drink and gain speech. Were you lying when you said that you would leave the power to the son?"

"No, I was not lying. But I said something that I did not understand."

"You are fortunate," she said, "if you can say what you do not understand. So listen: HAP [49] is not the foundation but the summit of the church that still lies sunken. We need this church since we can live in it with you and take part in your life. You have excluded us to your own detriment."

"Tell me, is HAP for you the sign of the church in which you hope for community with the living? Speak, why do you hesitate?"

She moaned and whispered with a weak voice: "Give blood, I need blood." [50]

"So take blood from my heart," I spoke.

"I thank you," she said, "that is fullness of life. The air of the shadow world is thin since we hover on the ocean of the air like birds above the sea. Many went beyond limits, fluttering on indeterminate paths of outer space, bumping at hazard into alien worlds. But we, we who are still near and incomplete, would like to immerse ourselves in the sea of the air and return to earth, to the living. Do you not have an animal form into which I can enter?"

"What," I exclaimed horrified, "you would like to be my dog?"

"If possible, yes," she replied, "I would even like to be your dog. To me you are of unspeakable worth, all my hope, that still clings to earth. I would still like to see completed what I left too soon. Give me blood, much blood!"

"So drink," I said despairingly; "drink, so that what should be will be."

She whispered with a hesitant voice: "Brimo [51] -- I guess that's what you call her -- the old one -- which is how it begins -- the one who bore the son -- the powerful HAP, who grew out of her shame and strove after the wife of Heaven, who arches over earth, for Brimo, above and below, envelops the son. [52] She bears and raises him. Born from below, he fertilizes the Above, since the wife is his mother, and the mother is his wife."

"Accursed teaching! Is this still not enough of the horrifying Mysterium?" I cried full of outrage and abhorrence.

"If Heaven becomes pregnant and can no longer hold its fruit, it gives birth to a man who carries the burden of sin -- that is the tree of life and of unending duration. Give me your blood! Listen! This riddle is terrible: when Brimo, the heavenly, was pregnant, she gave birth to the dragon, first the afterbirth and then the son, HAP, and the one who carried HAP. HAP is the rebellion of the Below, but the bird comes from the Above and places itself on the head of HAP. That is peace. You are a vessel. Speak, Heaven, pour out your rain. You are a shell. Empty shells do not spill, they catch. May it stream in from all the winds. Let me tell you that another evening is approaching. A day; two days, many days have come to an end. The light of day goes down and illumines the shadow, itself a shadow of the sun. Life becomes a shadow, and the shadow enlivens itself, the shadow that is greater than you. Do you think that your shadow is your son? He is small at midday, and fills the sky at midnight." [53]

But I was exhausted and desperate and could hear no more, and so I said to the dead one:

[54] "So you introduce the terrible son who lived beneath me, under the trees on the water? Is he the spirit that the heavens pour out, or is he the soulless worm that the earth bore? Oh Heaven -- Oh most sinister womb! Do you want to suck the life out of me for the sake of the shadow? Should humanity thus completely go to waste for divinity? [55] Should I live with shadows, instead of with the living? Should all the longing for the living belong to you, the dead? Did you not have your time to live? Did you not use it? Should a living person give his life for your sake, you who did not live the eternal? Speak, you mute shadows, who stand at my door and demand my blood!"

The shadow of the dead one raised its voice and said: "You see -- or do you still not see, what the living do with your life. They fritter it away. But with me you live yourself, since I belong to you. I belong to your invisible following and community. Do you believe that the living see you? They see only your shadow, not you -- you servant, you bearer, you vessel --"

"How you hold forth! Am I at your mercy? Should I no longer see the light of day? Should I become a shadow with a living body? You are formless and beyond grasp, and you emanate the coldness of the grave, a breath of emptiness. To let myself be buried alive -- what are you thinking of? Too soon, it seems to me, I must die first. Do you have the honey that pleases my heart and the fire that warms my hands? What are you, you mournful shadows? You specters of children! What do you want with my blood? Truly, you are even worse than men. Men give little, yet what do you give? Do you make the living? The warm beauty? Or joy perhaps? Or should all this go to your gloomy Hell? What do you offer in return? Mysteries? Will the living live from these? I regard your mysteries as tricks if the living cannot live from them."

But she interrupted me and cried: "Impetuous one, stop, you take my breath away. We are shadows; become a shadow and you will grasp what we give."

"I do not want to die to descend into your darkness."

"But," she said, "you need not die. You must only let yourself be buried."

"In the hope of resurrection? No joking now!"

But she spoke calmly: "You suspect what will happen. Triple walls before you and invisibility -- to Hell with your longing and feeling! At least you do not love us, so we will cost you less dearly than the men who roll in your love and patience and have you make a fool of yourself."

"My dead one, I think you are speaking my language."

She replied to me scornfully: "Men love -- and you! What an error! All this means is that you want to run away from yourself. What do you do to men? You tempt and coax them into megalomania, to which you fall victim."

"But it grieves me, pains me, howls at me; I feel a great longing, everything soft complains, and my heart yearns."

But she was unsparing. "Your heart belongs to us," she said. "What do you want with men? Self-defense against men -- so that you walk on your own two feet, not on human crutches. Men need the undemanding, but they are always wanting love to be able to run away from themselves. This ought to stop. Why do fools go out and preach the gospel to the negroes, and then ridicule it in their own country? Why do these hypocritical preachers speak of love, divine and human love, and use the same gospel to justify the right to wage war and commit murderous injustice? Above all, what do they teach others when they themselves stand up to their necks in the black mud of deception and self-deceit? Have they cleaned their own house, have they recognized and driven out their own devil? Because they do none of this, they preach love to be able to run away from themselves, and to do to others what they should do to themselves. But this greatly prized love, given to one's own self, burns like fire. These hypocrites and liars have noticed this -- as you have -- and prefer to love others. Is that love? It is false hypocrisy. [56] It always begins in yourself and in all things and above all with love. Do you believe that one who wounds himself unsparingly does the other a good deed with his love? No, of course you don't believe it. You even know that he only teaches the other how one must wound oneself, so that he can compel others to express sympathy. Therefore you should be a shadow since this is what men need. How can they get away from the hypocrisy and foolishness of your love if you yourself cannot? For everything begins with yourself. But your horse still cannot refrain from whinnying. Even worse, your virtue is a wagging dog, a growling dog, a licking dog, a barking dog -- and you call that human love! But love is: to bear and endure oneself. It begins with this. It is truly about you; you are not yet tempered; other fires must yet come over you until you have accepted your solitude and learned to love.

What do you ask about love? What is love? To live, above all, that is more than love. Is war love? You are bound to see what human love is still good enough for -- a means like other means. Therefore, above all, solitude, until every softness toward yourself has been burnt out of you. You should learn to freeze." [57]

"I see only graves before me," I answered, "what cursed will is above me?"

"The will of the God, that is stronger than you, you slave, you vessel. You have fallen into the hands of the greater. He knows no pity. Your Christian shrouds have fallen, the veils that blinded your eyes. The God has become strong again. The yoke of men is lighter than the yoke of the God; therefore everyone seeks to yoke the other out of mercy. But he who does not fall into the hands of men falls into those of the God. May he be well and may woe betide him! There is no escape."

"Is that freedom?" I cried.

"The highest freedom. Only the God above you, through yourself. Comfort yourself with this and that as well as you can. The God bolts doors that you cannot open. Let your feelings whimper like puppies. The ears on high are deaf."

"But," I answered, "is there no outrage for the sake of the human?"

"Outrage? I laugh at your outrage. The God knows only power and creation. He commands and you act. Your anxieties are laughable. There is only one road, the military road of the Godhead."

The dead one spoke these unsparing words to me. [58] As I did not want to obey anyone, I had to obey this voice. And she spoke unsparing words about the power of the God. I had to accept these words. [59] We have to greet a new light, a blood-red sun, a painful wonder. No one forces me to; only the foreign will in me commands and I cannot escape since I find no grounds to do so.
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