PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMATION

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: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 3:51 am

Part 1 of 2

Chapter 4: The Song of the Moth

The double role of Faust: creator and destroyer -- "I came not to send peace, but a sword" -- The modern problem of choice between Scylla of world-renunciation and Charybdis of world-acceptance --The ethical pose of The Hymn of Creation having failed, the unconscious projects a new attempt in the Moth-Song -- The choice, as in Faust -- The longing for the sun (or God) the same as that for the ship's officer -- Not the object, however: the longing is important -- God is our own longing to which we pay divine honors -- The failure to replace by a real compensation the libido-object which is surrendered, produces regression to an earlier and discarded object -- A return to the infantile -- The use of the parent image -- It becomes synonymous with God, Sun, Fire -- Sun and snake -- Symbols of the libido gathered into the sun-symbol -- The tendency toward unity and toward multiplicity -- One God with many attributes: or many gods that are attributes of one -- Phallus and sun -- The sun-hero, the well-beloved -- Christ as sun-god -- "Moth and sun" then brings us to historic depths of the soul -- The sun-hero creative and destructive -- Hence: Moth and Flame: burning one's wings -- The destructiveness of being fruitful -- Wherefore the neurotic withdraws from the conflict, committing a sort of self-murder -- Comparison with Byron's Heaven and Earth.

A LITTLE later Miss Miller travelled from Geneva to Paris. She says:

"My weariness on the railway was so great that I could hardly sleep an hour. It was terrifically hot in the ladies' carriage."


At four o'clock in the morning she noticed a moth that flew against the light in her compartment. She then tried to go to sleep again. Suddenly the following poem took possession of her mind.

The Moth to the Sun

"I longed for thee when first I crawled to consciousness.
My dreams were all of thee when in the chrysalis I lay.
Oft myriads of my kind beat out their lives
Against some feeble spark once caught from thee.
And one hour more -- and my poor life is gone;
Yet my last effort, as my first desire, shall be
But to approach thy glory; then, having gained
One raptured glance, I'll die content.
For I, the source of beauty, warmth and life
Have in his perfect splendor once beheld."


Before we go into the material which Miss Miller offers us for the understanding of the poem, we will again cast a glance over the psychologic situation in which the poem originated. Some months or weeks appear to have elapsed since the last direct manifestation of the unconscious that Miss Miller reported to us; about this period we have had no information. We learn nothing about the moods and phantasies of this time. If one might draw a conclusion from this silence it would be presumably that in the time which elapsed between the two poems, really nothing of importance had happened, and that, therefore, this poem is again but a voiced fragment of the unconscious working of the complex stretching out over months and years. It is highly probable that it is concerned with the same complex as before. [1] The earlier product, a hymn of creation full of hope, has, however, but little similarity to the present poem. The poem lying before us has a truly hopeless, melancholy character; moth and sun, two things which never meet. One must in fairness ask, is a moth really expected to rise to the sun? We know indeed the proverbial saying about the moth that flew into the light and singed its wings, but not the legend of the moth that strove towards the sun. Plainly, here, two things are connected in her thoughts that do not belong together; first, the moth which fluttered around the light so long that it burnt itself; and then, the idea of a small ephemeral being, something like the day fly, which, in lamentable contrast to the eternity of the stars, longs for an imperishable daylight. This idea reminds one of Faust:

"Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow
The green-embosomed houses glitter;
The glow retreats, done is the day of toil,
It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;
Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil
Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!
Then would I see eternal Evening gild
The silent world beneath me glowing. . . .
Yet, finally, the weary god is sinking;
The new-born impulse fires my mind, --
I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking,
The day before me and the night behind,
Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me, --
A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.
Alas! the wings that lift the mind to aid
Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me."


Not long afterwards, Faust sees "the black dog roving there through cornfields and stubble," the dog who is the same as the devil, the tempter, in whose hellish fires Faust has singed his wings. When he believed that he was expressing his great longing for the beauty of the sun and the earth, "he went astray thereover" and fell into the hands of "the Evil One."

"Yes, resolute to reach some brighter distance,
On earth's fair sun I turn my back."


This is what Faust had said shortly before, in true recognition of the state of affairs. The honoring of the beauty of nature led the Christian of the Middle Ages to pagan thoughts which lay in an antagonistic relation to his conscious religion, just as once Mithracism was in threatening competition with Christianity, for Satan often disguises himself as an angel of light. [2] The longing of Faust became his ruin. The longing for the Beyond had brought as a consequence a loathing for life, and he stood on the brink of self-destruction. [3] The longing for the beauty of this world led him anew to ruin, into doubt and pain, even to Marguerite's tragic death. His mistake was that he followed after both worlds with no check to the driving force of his libido, like a man of violent passion. Faust portrays once more the folk-psychologic conflict of the beginning of the Christian era, but what is noteworthy, in a reversed order.

Libido: In my view, this concept is synonymous with psychic energy. Psychic energy is the intensity of the psychic process -- its psychological value. By this I do not mean to imply any imparted value, whether moral, aesthetic, or intellectual; the psychological value is simply conditioned by its determining power, which is manifested in definite psychic operations ('effects'). Neither do I understand libido as a psychic force, a misunderstanding that has led many critics astray. I do not hypostasize [assume the reality of] the concept of energy, but employ it as a concept denoting intensity or value. The question as to whether or no a specific psychic force exists has nothing to do with the concept of libido. Frequently I employ the expression libido promiscuously with 'energy'.

-- Psychological Types, by C.G. Jung


Against what fearful powers of seduction Christ had to defend himself by means of his hope of the absolute world beyond, may be seen in the example of Alypius in Augustine. If any of us had been living in that period of antiquity, he would have seen clearly that that culture must inevitably collapse because humanity revolted against it. It is well known that even before the spread of Christianity a remarkable expectation of redemption had taken possession of mankind. The following eclogue of Virgil might well be a result of this mood:

"Ultima Cumasi venit jam carminis aetas; [i]
Magnus ab integro Saeclorum nascitur ordo,
Jam redit et Virgo, [4] redeunt Saturnia regna;
Jam nova progenies caelo demittitur alto.
Tu modo nascenti puero, quo ferrea primum
Desinet ac toto surget gens aurea mundo,
Casta fave Lucina: tuus jam regnat Apollo.

"Te duce, si qua manent sceleris vestigia nostri,
Inrita perpetua solvent formidine terras.
Ille deum vitam accipiet divisque videbit
Permixtos heroas et ipse videbitur illis,
Pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbem." [5]

[Google translate: "At last came the age of the song Cumasi;
Great is the order of the generations arises afresh,
Now returns the Maid, returns the reign of Saturn;
Now a new generation sent down from heaven.
Only child at his birth, the first by whom the iron
Cease and a golden race shall rise up with all the world,
Chaste Lucina, favor: now thy own Apollo reigns.

"Under your auspices, if there be any traces of our crimes remain,
Cancel the countries free from perpetual fear.
He will receive the life divisque
Mixed with heroes, and himself be seen by them,
His father's will rule a world at peace."]


The turning to asceticism resulting from the general expansion of Christianity brought about a new misfortune to many: monasticism and the life of the anchorite. [6]

Faust takes the reverse course; for him the ascetic ideal means death. He struggles for freedom and wins life, at the same time giving himself over to the Evil One; but through this he becomes the bringer of death to her whom he loves most, Marguerite. He tears himself away from pain and sacrifices his life in unceasing useful work, through which he saves many lives. [7] His double mission as saviour and destroyer has already been hinted in a preliminary manner:

Wagner:

With what a feeling, thou great man, must thou
Receive the people's honest veneration!

Faust:

Thus we, our hellish boluses compounding,
Among these vales and hills surrounding,
Worse than the pestilence, have passed.
Thousands were done to death from poison of my giving;
And I must hear, by all the living,
The shameless murderers praised at last!


A parallel to this double role is that text in the Gospel of Matthew which has become historically significant:

"I came not to send peace, but a sword." Matt, x: 34.


Just this constitutes the deep significance of Goethe's Faust, that he clothes in words a problem of modern man which has been turning in restless slumber since the Renaissance, just as was done by the drama of Oedipus for the Hellenic sphere of culture. What is to be the way out between the Scylla of renunciation of the world and the Charybdis of the acceptance of the world?

The hopeful tone, voiced in the "Hymn to the God of Creation," cannot continue very long with our author. The pose simply promises, but does not fulfil. The old longing will come again, for it is a peculiarity of all complexes worked over merely in the unconscious [8] that they lose nothing of their original amount of affect. Meanwhile, their outward manifestations can change almost endlessly. One might therefore consider the first poem as an unconscious longing to solve the conflict through positive religiousness, somewhat in the same manner as they of the earlier centuries decided their conscious conflicts by opposing to them the religious standpoint. This wish does not succeed. Now with the second poem there follows a second attempt which turns out in a decidedly more material way; its thought is unequivocal. Only once "having gained one raptured glance . . ." and then to die.

From the realms of the religious world, the attention, just as in Faust, [9] turns towards the sun of this world, and already there is something mingled with it which has another sense, that is to say, the moth which fluttered so long around the light that it burnt its wings.

We now pass to that which Miss Miller offers for the better understanding of the poem. She says:

"This small poem made a profound impression upon me. I could not, of course, find immediately a sufficiently clear and direct explanation for it. However, a few days later when I once more read a certain philosophical work, which I had read in Berlin the previous winter, and which I had enjoyed very much, (I was reading it aloud to a friend), I came across the following words: 'La meme aspiration passionnee de la mite vers l'etoile, de l'homme vers Dieu.' (The same passionate longing of the moth for the star, of man for God.) I had forgotten this sentence entirely, but it seemed very clear to me that precisely these words had reappeared in my hypnagogic poem. In addition to that it occurred to me that a play seen some years previously, 'La Mite et La Flamme,' was a further possible cause of the poem. It is easy to see how often the word 'moth' had been impressed upon me."


The deep impression made by the poem upon the author shows that she put into it a large amount of love. In the expression "aspiration passionnee" we meet the passionate longing of the moth for the star, of man for God, and indeed, the moth is Miss Miller herself. Her last observation that the word "moth" was often impressed upon her shows how often she had noticed the word "moth" as applicable to herself. Her longing for God resembles the longing of the moth for the "star." The reader will recall that this expression has already had a place in the earlier material, "when the morning stars sang together," that is to say, the ship's officer who sings on deck in the night watch. The passionate longing for God is the same as that longing for the singing morning stars. It was pointed out at great length in the foregoing chapter that this analogy is to be expected: "Sic parvis componere magna solebam."

It is shameful or exalted just as one chooses, that the divine longing of humanity, which is really the first thing to make it human, should be brought into connection with an erotic phantasy. Such a comparison jars upon the finer feelings. Therefore, one is inclined in spite of the undeniable facts to dispute the connection. An Italian steersman with brown hair and black moustache, and the loftiest, clearest conception of humanity! These two things cannot be brought together; against this not only our religious feelings revolt, but our taste also rebels.

It would certainly be unjust to make a comparison of the two objects as concrete things since they are so heterogeneous. One loves a Beethoven sonata but one loves caviar also. It would not occur to any one to liken the sonata to caviar. It is a common error for one to judge the longing according to the quality of the object. The appetite of the gourmand which is only satisfied with goose liver and quail is no more distinguished than the appetite of the laboring man for corned beef and cabbage. The longing is the same; the object changes. Nature is beautiful only by virtue of the longing and love given her by man. The aesthetic attributes emanating from that has influence primarily on the libido, which alone constitutes the beauty of nature. The dream recognizes this well when it depicts a strong and beautiful feeling by means of a representation of a beautiful landscape. Whenever one moves in the territory of the erotic it becomes altogether clear how little the object and how much the love means. The "sexual object" is as a rule overrated far too much and that only on account of the extreme degree to which libido is devoted to the object.

Apparently Miss Miller had but little left over for the officer, which is humanly very intelligible. But in spite of that a deep and lasting effect emanates from this connection which places divinity on a par with the erotic object. The moods which apparently are produced by these objects do not, however, spring from them, but are manifestations of her strong love. When Miss Miller praises either God or the sun she means her love, that deepest and strongest impulse of the human and animal being.

The reader will recall that in the preceding chapter the following chain of synonyms was adduced: the singer -- God of sound -- singing morning star -- creator -- God of Light -- sun -- fire -- God of Love.

At that time we had placed sun and fire in parentheses. Now they are entitled to their right place in the chain of synonyms. With the changing of the erotic impression from the affirmative to the negative the symbols of light occur as the paramount object. In the second poem where the longing is clearly exposed it is by no means the terrestrial sun. Since the longing has been turned away from the real object, its object has become, first of all, a subjective one, namely, God. Psychologically, however, God is the name of a representation-complex which is grouped around a strong feeling (the sum of libido). Properly, the feeling is what gives character and reality to the complex. [10] The attributes and symbols of the divinity must belong in a consistent manner to the feeling (longing, love, libido, and so on). If one honors God, the sun or the fire, then one honors one's own vital force, the libido. It is as Seneca says: "God is near you, he is with you, in you." God is our own longing to which we pay divine honors. [11] If it were not known how tremendously significant religion was, and is, this marvellous play with one's self would appear absurd. There must be something more than this, however, because, notwithstanding its absurdity, it is, in a certain sense, conformable to the purpose in the highest degree. To bear a God within one's self signifies a great deal; it is a guarantee of happiness, of power, indeed even of omnipotence, as far as these attributes belong to the Deity. To bear a God within one's self signifies just as much as to be God one's self. In Christianity, where, it is true, the grossly sensual representations and symbols are weeded out as carefully as possible, which seems to be a continuation of the poverty of symbols of the Jewish cult, there are to be found plain traces of this psychology. There are even plainer traces, to be sure, in the "becoming-one with God" in those mysteries closely related to the Christian, where the mystic himself is lifted up to divine adoration through initiatory rites. At the close of the consecration into the Isis mysteries the mystic was crowned with the palm crown, [12] he was placed on a pedestal and worshipped as Helios. [13] In the magic papyrus of the Mithraic liturgy published by Dieterich there is the [ii] of the consecrated one: Image [iii]

The mystic in religious ecstasies put himself on a plane with the stars, just as a saint of the Middle Ages put himself by means of the stigmata on a level with Christ. St. Francis of Assisi expressed this in a truly pagan manner, [14] even as far as a close relationship with the brother sun and the sister moon. These representations of "becoming-one with God" are very ancient. The old belief removed the becoming-one with God until the time after death; the mysteries, however, suggest this as taking place already in this world. A very old text brings most beautifully before one this unity with God; it is the song of triumph of the ascending soul. [15]

"I am the God Atum, I who alone was.
I am the God Re at his first splendor.
I am the great God, self-created, God of Gods,
To whom no other God compares."

"I was yesterday and know tomorrow; the battle-ground of Gods was made when I spoke. I know the name of that great God who tarries therein.

"I am that great Phoenix who is in Heliopolis, who there keeps account of all there is, of all that exists.

"I am the God Min, at his coming forth, who placed the feathers upon my head. [16]

"I am in my country. I come into my city. Daily I am together with my father Atum. [17]

"My impurity is driven away, and the sin which was in me is overcome. I washed myself in those two great pools of water which are in Heracleopolis, in which is purified the sacrifice of mankind for that great God who abideth there.

"I go on my way to where I wash my head in the sea of the righteous. I arrive at this land of the glorified, and enter through the splendid portal.

"Thou, who standest before me, stretch out to me thy hands, it is I. I am become one of thee. Daily am I together with my Father Atum."


The identification with God necessarily has as a result the enhancing of the meaning and power of the individual. [18] That seems, first of all, to have been really its purpose: a strengthening of the individual against his all too great weakness and insecurity in real life. This great megalomania thus has a genuinely pitiable background. The strengthening of the consciousness of power is, however, only an external result of the "becoming-one with God." Of much more significance are the deeper-lying disturbances in the realm of feeling. Whoever introverts libido -- that is to say, whoever takes it away from a real object without putting in its place a real compensation -- is overtaken by the inevitable results of introversion. The libido, which is turned inward into the subject, awakens again from among the sleeping remembrances one which contains the path upon which earlier the libido once had come to the real object. At the very first and in foremost position it was father and mother who were the objects of the childish love. They are unequalled and imperishable. Not many difficulties are needed in an adult's life to cause those memories to reawaken and to become effectual. In religion the regressive reanimation of the father-and-mother image is organized into a system. The benefits of religion are the benefits of parental hands; its protection and its peace are the results of parental care upon the child; its mystic feelings are the unconscious memories of the tender emotions of the first childhood, just as the hymn expresses it:

"I am in my country.
I come into my city.
Daily am I together with my father Atum." [19]


The visible father of the world is, however, the sun, the heavenly fire; therefore, Father, God, Sun, Fire are mythologically synonymous. The well-known fact that in the sun's strength the great generative power of nature honored shows plainly, very plainly, to any one to whom as yet it may not be clear that in the Deity man honors his own libido, and naturally in the form of the image or symbol of the present object of transference. This symbol faces us in an especially marked manner in the third Logos of the Dieterich papyrus. After the second prayer [20] stars come from the disc of the sun to the mystic, "five-pointed, in quantities, filling the whole air. If the sun's disc has expanded, you will see an immeasurable circle, and fiery gates which are shut off." The mystic utters the following prayer:

Image

The invocation is, as one sees, almost inexhaustible in light and fire attributes, and can be likened in its extravagance only to the synonymous attributes of love of the mystic of the Middle Ages. Among the innumerable texts which might be used as an illustration of this, I select a passage from the writings of Mechtild von Magdeburg (1212-1277):

"O Lord, love me excessively and love me often and long; the oftener you love me, so much the purer do I become; the more excessively you love me, the more beautiful I become; the longer you love me, the more holy will I become here upon earth."

God answered: "That I love you often, that I have from my nature, for I myself am love. That I love you excessively, that I have from my desire, for I too desire that men love me excessively. That I love you long, that I have from my everlastingness, for I am without end." [21]


The religious regression makes use indeed of the parent image without, however, consciously making it an object of transference, for the incest horror [22] forbids that. It remains rather as a synonym, for example, of the father or of God, or of the more or less personified symbol of the sun and fire. [23] Sun and fire that is to say, the fructifying strength and heat -- are attributes of the libido. In Mysticism the inwardly perceived, divine vision is often merely sun or light, and is very little, or not at all, personified. In the Mithraic liturgy there is found, for example, a significant quotation: Image [v]

Hildegarde von Bingen (1100-1178) expresses herself in the following manner: [24]

"But the light I see is not local, but far off, and brighter than the cloud which supports the sun. I can in no way know the form of this light since I cannot entirely see the sun's disc. But within this light I see at times, and infrequently, another light which is called by me the living light, but when and in what manner I see this I do not know how to say, and when I see it all weariness and need is lifted from me, then too, I feel like a simple girl and not like an old woman."


Symeon, the New Theologian (970-1040), says the following:

"My tongue lacks words, and what happens in me my spirit sees clearly but does not explain. It sees the invisible, that emptiness of all forms, simple throughout, not complex, and in extent infinite. For it sees no beginning, and it sees no end. It is entirely unconscious of the meanings, and does not know what to call that which it sees. Something complete appears, it seems to me, not indeed through the being itself, but through a participation. For you enkindle fire from fire, and you receive the whole fire; but this remains undiminished and undivided, as before. Similarly, that which is divided separates itself from the first; and like something corporeal spreads itself into several lights. This, however, is something spiritual, immeasurable, indivisible, and inexhaustible. For it is not separated when it becomes many, but remains undivided and is in me, and enters within my poor heart like a sun or circular disc of the sun, similar to the light, for it is a light." [25]


That that thing, perceived as inner light, as the sun of the other world, is longing, is clearly shown by Symeon's words: [26]

"And following It my spirit demanded to embrace the splendor beheld, but it found It not as creature and did not succeed in coming out from among created beings, so that it might embrace that uncreated and uncomprehended splendor. Nevertheless it wandered everywhere, and strove to behold It. It penetrated the air, it wandered over the Heavens, it crossed over the abysses, it searched, as it seemed to it, the ends of the world. [27] But in all of that it found nothing, for all was created. And I lamented and was sorrowful, and my breast burned, and I lived as one distraught in mind. But It came, as It would, and descending like a luminous mystic cloud. It seemed to envelop my whole head so that dismayed I cried out. But flying away again It left me alone. And when I, troubled, sought for It, I realized suddenly that It was in me, myself, and in the midst of my heart It appeared as the light of a spherical sun."


In Nietzsche's "Glory and Eternity" we meet with an essentially similar symbol:

"Hush! I see vastness! -- and of vasty things
Shall man be done, unless he can enshrine
Them with his words? Then take the night which brings
The heart upon thy tongue, charmed wisdom mine!

"I look above, there rolls the star-strewn sea.
O night, mute silence, voiceless cry of stars!
And lo! A sign! The heaven its verge unbars --
A shining constellation falls towards me." [vi]


It is not astonishing if Nietzsche's great inner loneliness calls again into existence certain forms of thought which the mystic ecstasy of the old cults has elevated to ritual representation. In the visions of the Mithraic liturgy we have to deal with many similar representations which we can now understand without difficulty as the ecstatic symbol of the libido: Image [vii]

Silence is commanded, then the vision of light is revealed. The similarity of the mystic's condition and Nietzsche's poetical vision is surprising. Nietzsche says "constellation." It is well known that constellations are chiefly therio- or anthropomorphic symbols.

The papyrus says, Image [viii] (similar to the "rosy-fingered" Eos), which is nothing else than an anthropomorphic image. Accordingly, one may expect from that, that by long gazing a living being would be formed out of the "flame image," a "star constellation" of therio- or anthropomorphic nature, for the symbolism of the libido does not end with sun, light and fire, but makes use of wholly other means of expression. I yield precedence to Nietzsche:

The Beacon [ix]

"Here, where the island grew amid the seas,
A sacrificial rock high-towering,
Here under darkling heavens,
Zarathustra lights his mountain-fires.

"These flames with grey-white belly,
In cold distances sparkle their desire,
Stretches its neck towards ever purer heights --
A snake upreared in impatience:

"This signal I set up there before me.
This flame is mine own soul,
Insatiable for new distances,
Speeding upward, upward its silent heat.

"At all lonely ones I now throw my fishing rod.
Give answer to the flame's impatience,
Let me, the fisher on high mountains,
Catch my seventh, last solitude!"


Here libido becomes fire, flame and snake. The Egyptian symbol of the "living disc of the sun," the disc with the two entwining snakes, contains the combination of both the libido analogies. The disc of the sun with its fructifying warmth is analogous to the fructifying warmth of love. The comparison of the libido with sun and fire is in reality analogous.

There is also a "causative" element in it, for sun and fire as beneficent powers are objects of human love; for example, the sun-hero Mithra is called the "well-beloved." In Nietzsche's poem the comparison is also a causative one, but this time in a reversed sense. The comparison with the snake is unequivocally phallic, corresponding completely with the tendency in antiquity, which was to see in the symbol of the phallus the quintessence of life and fruitfulness. The phallus is the source of life and libido, the great creator and worker of miracles, and as such it received reverence everywhere. We have, therefore, three designating symbols of the libido: First, the comparison by analogy, as sun and fire. Second, the comparisons based on causative relations, as A: Object comparison. The libido is designated by its object, for example, the beneficent sun. B: The subject comparison, in which the libido is designated by its place of origin or by analogies of this, for example, by phallus or (analogous) snake.

To these two fundamental forms of comparison still a third is added, in which the "tertium comparationis" is the activity; for example, the libido is dangerous when fecundating like the bull -- through the power of its passion -- like the lion, like the raging boar when in heat, like the ever-rutting ass, and so on.

This activity comparison can belong equally well to the category of the analogous or to the category of the causative comparisons. The possibilities of comparison mean just as many possibilities for symbolic expression, and from this basis all the infinitely varied symbols, so far as they are libido images, may properly be reduced to a very simple root, that is, just to libido and its fixed primitive qualities. This psychologic reduction and simplification is in accordance with the historic efforts of civilization to unify and simplify, to syncretize, the endless number of the gods. We come across this desire as far back as the old Egyptians, where the unlimited polytheism as exemplified in the numerous demons of places finally necessitated simplification. All the various local gods, Amon of Thebes, Horus of Edfu, Horus of the East, Chnum of Elephantine, Atum of Heliopolis, and others, [29] became identified with the sun God Re. In the hymns to the sun the composite being Amon-Re-Harmachis-Atum was invoked as "the only god which truly lives." [30]

Amenhotep IV (XVIII dynasty) went the furthest in this direction. He replaced all former gods by the "living great disc of the sun," the official title reading:

"The sun ruling both horizons, triumphant in the horizon in his name; the glittering splendor which is in the sun's disc."


"And, indeed," Erman adds, [31] "the sun, as a God, should not be honored, but the sun itself as a planet which imparts through its rays [32] the infinite life which is in it to all living creatures."

Amenhotep IV by his reform completed a work which is psychologically important. He united all the bull, [33] ram, [34] crocodile [35] and pile-dwelling [36] gods into the disc of the sun, and made it clear that their various attributes were compatible with the sun's attributes. [37] A similar fate overtook the Hellenic and Roman polytheism through the syncretistic efforts of later centuries. The beautiful prayer of Lucius [38] to the queen of the Heavens furnishes an important proof of this:

"Queen of Heaven, whether thou art the genial Ceres, the prime parent of fruits; -- or whether thou art celestial Venus; -- or whether thou art the sister of Phoebus; -- or whether thou art Proserpina, terrific with midnight howlings -- with that feminine brightness of thine illuminating the walls of every city." [39]


This attempt to gather again into a few units the religious thoughts which were divided into countless variations and personified in individual gods according to their polytheistic distribution and separation makes clear the fact that already at an earlier time analogies had formally arisen. Herodotus is rich in just such references, not to mention the systems of the Hellenic-Roman world. Opposed to the endeavor to form a unity there stands a still stronger endeavor to create again and again a multiplicity, so that even in the so-called severe monotheistic religions, as Christianity, for example, the polytheistic tendency is irrepressible. The Deity is divided into three parts at least, to which is added the feminine Deity of Mary and the numerous company of the lesser gods, the angels and saints, respectively. These two tendencies are in constant warfare. There is only one God with countless attributes, or else there are many gods who are then simply known differently, according to locality, and personify sometimes this, sometimes that attribute of the fundamental thought, an example of which we have seen above in the Egyptian gods.

With this we turn once more to Nietzsche's poem, "The Beacon." We found the flame there used as an image of the libido, theriomorphically represented as a snake (also as an image of the soul: [40] "This flame is mine own soul"). We saw that the snake is to be taken as a phallic image of the libido (upreared in impatience), and that this image, also an attribute of the conception of the sun (the Egyptian sun idol), is an image of the libido in the combination of sun and phallus. It is not a wholly strange conception, therefore, that the sun's disc is represented with a penis, as well as with hands and feet. We find proof for this idea in a peculiar part of the Mithraic liturgy: Image Image [x]

This extremely important vision of a tube hanging down from the sun would produce in a religious text, such as that of the Mithraic liturgy, a strange and at the same time meaningless effect if it did not have the phallic meaning. The tube is the place of origin of the wind. The phallic meaning seems very faint in this idea, but one must remember that the wind, as well as the sun, is a fructifier and creator. This has already been pointed out in a footnote. [41] There is a picture by a Germanic painter of the Middle Ages of the "conceptio immaculata" which deserves mention here. The conception is represented by a tube or pipe coming down from heaven and passing beneath the skirt of Mary. Into this flies the Holy Ghost in the form of a dove for the impregnation of the Mother of God. [42]

Honegger discovered the following hallucination in an insane man (paranoid dement): The patient sees in the sun an "upright tail" similar to an erected penis. When he moves his head back and forth, then, too, the sun's penis sways back and forth in a like manner, and out of that the wind arises. This strange hallucination remained unintelligible to us for a long time until I became acquainted with the Mithraic liturgy and its visions. This hallucination threw an illuminating light, as it appears to me, upon a very obscure place in the text which immediately follows the passage previously cited:

Image

Mead translates this very clearly: [43]

"And towards the regions westward, as though it were an infinite East wind. But if the other wind, towards the regions of the East, should be in service, in the like fashion shalt thou see towards the regions of that side the converse of the sight."


In the original Image is the vision, the thing seen. Image means properly the carrying away. The sense of the text, according to this, might be: the thing seen may be carried or turned sometimes here, sometimes there, according to the direction of the wind. The Image is the tube, "the place of origin of the wind," which turns sometimes to the east, sometimes to the west, and, one might add, generates the corresponding wind. The vision of the insane man coincides astonishingly with this description of the movement of the tube. [44]

At the point of contact between leaders and followers reside ideologies. The term "ideology" is used here in quite a loose sense. It refers to any idea or set of ideas that provides a prescriptive view of life. The term is therefore not confined to lengthy doctrines that are systematized in the form of a tract or a dissertation, since ideologies may also be expressed by short slogans. Moreover, they can be loaded with different layers of meaning. They can consist of a formalized and presumably conscious worldview that includes many parts. But they can equally well be comprised of unconscious shared group fantasies, which have the power to charge up the entire group with sufficient energy to trigger unified mass action. Consequently they frequently include myths while their promoters engage in the selling of those myths. Moreover, slogans, catch phrases, enticing ideas, poignant jokes, stirring songs but also a variety of visual images that appear on posters, placards, and walls as well as in illustrations and cartoons published by newspapers and magazines may all represent small bits or chunks of ideologies. Whatever form they take, whether it is one picture that is worth more than a thousand words or an uplifting short slogan, these bits and chunks of ideology encapsulate succinct and rather unidimensional views of the world or of national life. What is more, they may be widely dispersed and "float in the air." When that happens, the ideological prescriptions frequently express themselves through aphorisms. A current American example would be the saying "winning isn't everything, it's the only thing." An earlier German example which is taken from a Nazi marching song would be the lines "For today Germany belongs to us and tomorrow the whole world." As can be seen, such small ideological segments, which prescribe what to expect from life, ride on a variety of "carriers." That is why they may frequently be lifted from songs, plays, jokes, drawings or paintings, political speeches and similar layers of the cultural repository. They are embedded in the culture but their drawing power fluctuates according to the position they happen to occupy in the particular zeitgeist, or spirit of the time. The zeitgeist is a concept that denotes the ripening of a cultural image or idea to the point where its time has arrived. It also connotes a notion of movement where ideas float to the foreground when their time comes or sink to the background when their time is gone. The issue of when an ideology's time for action has arrived is largely determined by changes within the zeitgeist that reflect an altered emotional climate and the shifting winds of public mood.

-- The Roots of Nazi Psychology, by Jay Y. Gonen


The various attributes of the sun, separated into a series, appear one after the other in the Mithraic liturgy. According to the vision of Helios, seven maidens appear with the heads of snakes, and seven gods with the heads of black bulls.

It is easy to understand the maiden as a symbol of the libido used in the sense of causative comparison. The snake in Paradise is usually considered as feminine, as the seductive principle in woman, and is represented as feminine by the old artists, although properly the snake has a phallic meaning. Through a similar change of meaning the snake in antiquity becomes the symbol of the earth, which on its side is always considered feminine. The bull is the well-known, symbol for the fruitfulness of the sun. The bull gods in the Mithraic liturgy were called Image "guardians of the axis of the earth," by whom the axle of the orb of the heavens was turned. The divine man, Mithra, also had the same attributes; he is sometimes called the "Sol invictus" itself, sometimes the mighty companion and ruler of Helios; he holds in his right hand the " bear constellation, which moves and turns the heavens." The bull-headed gods, equally Image with Mithra himself, to whom the attribute Image , "young one," "the newcomer," is given, are merely attributive components of the same divinity. The chief god of the Mithraic liturgy is himself subdivided into Mithra and Helios; the attributes of each of these are closely related to the other. Of Helios it is said: Image Image [xi]

Of Mithra it is said: Image Image [xii]

If we place fire and gold as essentially similar, then a great accord is found in the attributes of the two gods. To these mystical pagan ideas there deserve to be added the probably almost contemporaneous vision of Revelation:

"And being turned, I saw seven golden candlesticks. And in the midst of the candlesticks [45] one like unto the son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about at the breasts with a golden girdle. And his head and his hair were white as white wool, white as snow, and his eyes were as a flame of fire. And his feet like unto burnished brass, as if it had been refined in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters. And he had in his right hand seven stars, [46] and out of his mouth proceeded a sharp two- edged sword, [47] and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength." -- Rev. i: 12 ff.

"And I looked, and beheld a white cloud, and upon the cloud I saw one sitting like unto the son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle." [48] -- Rev. xiv: 14.

"And his eyes were as a flame of fire, and upon his head were many diadems. And he was arrayed in a garment [49] sprinkled with blood. . . . And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, [50] white and pure. And out of his mouth proceeded a sharp sword." -- Rev. xix: 12-15.


Image

THE FIRE OF TRUTH PRODUCES
LIGHT AND ILLUMINATION
WE ARE ABLE TO BRING ABOUT ILLUMINATION BY BURNING
MORE INTENSELY IN OUR LIVES
BY BEARING THE COSMIC CROSS
BY OFFERING OUR SELF
AS A JOYFUL SACRIFICE
DECREPITUDE AND OLD AGE ARE A SIGN OF THE PROCESS OF
COMBUSTION WHICH HAS TRANSFORMED THE PHYSICAL BODY AT
ITS OWN EXPENSE INTO A SUBTLE BODY, INTO THE BODY
OF RESURRECTION. OUR SUFFERINGS ARE A SIGN OF BEING BURNED, OF
BEING ANNIHILATED IN OUR EGO.
THE MORE WE ARE SHATTERED THE MORE OUR CONSCIOUSNESS
RISES WITH GREATER BRIGHTNESS, GREATER INCANDESCENCE
WE GLOW
WE BECOME TRANSPARENT TO LIGHT
THIS IS THE PASSAGE FROM FIRE TO
LIGHTABRAHAM TURNED THE SWORD, WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE
SACRIFICED ISAAC, UPWARDS, AND IT BECAME THE FLAMING
SWORD WHICH BREAKS THROUGH ALL PLANES, RESULTING IN THE
PRODUCTION OF LIGHT. ALL THIS MAKES POSSIBLE, IN THE
HEKALOTH OF THE JEWS, THE PASSAGE OF SOULS FROM THE
FOURTH PLANE, THE PLANE OF THE SERAPHIM, WHO ARE ANGELS
OF FIRE, TO THE FIFTH PLANE, THE PLANE OF THE CHERUBIM, WHO
ARE BEINGS OF LIGHT. EVERYTHING SEEMS TO TEND TO MAKE
US PURE CONSCIOUSNESS. THE FIRE IS ONE'S VIBRATION TO THE
TRUTH, AND IT IS THAT WHICH TRANSFORMS ONE INTO A BEING OF
LIGHT.
IT IS A MATTER OF BECOMING AWARE OF THE PROCESS OF COMBUSTION
IN OURSELVES BY FANNING THE FIRE IN THE SOLAR
PLEXUS WITH THE BREATH, THEREBY REALIZING THE PURIFYING
IGNEOUS ELEMENT IN OUR MAGNETIC FIELD.
IN A CERTAIN SENSE WE ARE LIKE A FLAME. THE BUDDHISTS HAVE
THE IMAGE OF THE FLAME THAT PASSES FROM LOG TO LOG, BURNING
THROUGH LOG AFTER LOG; FOR THE FLAME TO PERSIST THERE
ALWAYS HAS TO BE ANOTHER LOG, OTHERWISE THE FLAME IS
EXTINGUISHED. THE LOWER ASPECT OF OUR CONSCIOUSNESS IS
LIKE A FLAME WHICH DEPENDS ON WHAT IT CAN BURN. IN A CERTAIN
SENSE THIS FLAME IS OUR DESIRES, OUR CRAVINGS. WE ARE A
CONTINUITY OF CRAVINGS: THE CRAVING OF ONE BEING IS
CONTINUED THROUGH ANOTHER BEING, THE WHOLE OF LIFE
IS TENSIONED TOWARD THE FULFILLMENT OF DESIRE.
RESURRECTION IS THE OVERCOMING OF DESIRE
WE ARE FIRE WHICH IS BURNING NOT ONLY OUR BODIES BUT OUR
PERSONALITIES
UNTIL THEY ARE PURIFIED AND ILLUMINATED
PURIFICATION HAPPENS WHEN THERE IS JUST COLD LIGHT.
IN THE HEART CENTER THERE IS HEAT AND LIGHT, IN THE THROAT
CENTER THERE IS HEAT AND NO LIGHT, AND IN THE HIGHER
CENTERS THERE IS JUST THIS COLD LIGHT AND NO HEAT. BY HAMMERING
THE FIRE IN THE SOLAR PLEXUS WE UNLEASH A CHAIN
REACTION WHICH WILL IGNITE THE LIGHT OF THE SUN IN THE
HEART CENTER, WHICH WILL THEN BE SUBLIMATED INTO THE
COLD LIGHT OF THE CROWN CENTER, A VERY COOL TRANSCENDENTAL
LIGHT CORRESPONDING TO THE LIGHT OF VERY HIGH
ALTITUDES, ALMOST FROZEN, IMMACULATE AND DIAPHANOUS,
RISING LIKE A FOUNTAIN OF LIGHT ABOVE THE TOP OF THE HEAD.

-- Toward the One, by Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 3:52 am

Part 2 of 2

One need not assume that there is a direct dependency between the Apocalypse and the Mithraic liturgy. The visionary images of both texts are developed from a source, not limited to one place, but found in the soul of many divers people, because the symbols which arise from it are too typical for it to belong to one individual only. I put these images here to show how the primitive symbolism of light gradually developed, with the increasing depth of the vision, into the idea of the sun-hero, the "well-beloved." [51] The development of the symbol of light is thoroughly typical. In addition to this, perhaps I might call to mind the fact that I have previously pointed out this course with numerous examples, [52] and, therefore, I can spare myself the trouble of returning to this subject. [53] These visionary occurrences are the psychological roots of the sun-coronations in the mysteries. Its rite is religious hallucination congealed into liturgical form, which, on account of its great regularity, could become a generally accepted outer form. After all this, it is easily understood how the ancient Christian Church, on one side, stood in an especial bond to Christ as "sol novus," and, on the other side, had a certain difficulty in freeing itself from the earthly symbols of Christ. Indeed Philo of Alexandria saw in the sun the image of the divine logos or of the Deity especially ("De Somniis," i: 85). In an Ambrosian hymn Christ is invoked by "O sol salutis," and so on. At the time of Marcus Aurelius, Meliton, in his work, [54] Image , called Christ the Image [xiii] [Helios, the rising sun -- the only sun rising from heaven!]

Still more important is a passage from Pseudo-Cyprian: [55]

"O quam praeclara providentia ut illo die quo factus est sol, in ipso die nasceretur Christus, v. Kal. Apr. feria IV, et ideo de ipso ad plebem dicebat Malachias propheta: 'Orietur vobis sol iustitiae et curatio est in pennis ejus,' hic est sol iustitiae cuis in pennis curatio praeostendebatur." [xiv] [56] ["O, how remarkable a providence that Christ should be born on the same day on which the sun moves onward, V. Kal. of April the fourth holiday, and for this reason the prophet Malachi spoke to the people concerning Christ: 'Unto you shall the sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings, this is the sun of righteousness in whose wings healing shall be displayed.'"]


Image

Beyond the dream of the fleeting me
I watch
In the silence of all created things
The traces of my self
Voiding themselves in the roots of all existence.
Pure virtuality
Yet looking down from that timeless selfless place --
Outside space --
I watch the immutable archetype of me --
Sprouting into what I think is me --
Finally emerging out of its immersion
In the fabric of the planet
Speeding to the everlastingness in resurrection
Of a me beyond recognition

-- Toward the One, by Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan


In a work nominally attributed to John Chrysostomus, "De Solstitiis et Aequinoctiis," [57] occurs this passage:

"Sed et dominus nascitur mense Decembri hiemis tempore, VIII. Kal. Januarias, quando oleae maturae praemuntur ut unctio, id est Chrisma, nascatur sed et Invicti natalem appellant. Quis utique tarn invictus nisi dominus noster qui mortem subactam devicit? Vel quod dicant Solis esse natalem, ipse est sol iustitiae, de quo Malachias propheta dixit: 'Dominus lucis ac noctis conditor et discretor qui a phopheta Sol iustitiae cognominatus est.'" [xv]


According to the testimony of Eusebius of Alexandria, the Christians also shared in the worship of the rising sun, which lasted into the fifth century: Image [xvi]

Augustine preached emphatically to the Christians:

"Non est Dominus Sol factus sed per quern Sol factus est -- ne quis carnaliter sapiens Solem istum (Christum) intelligendum putaret."
[Google translate: It is not the Lord made ​​the sun, but by which the sun was made -- a wise man according to the flesh, lest any of your sun (Christ) thought to be understood.]


Art has preserved much of the remnants of sun-worship, [58] thus the nimbus around the head of Christ and the halo of the saints in general. The Christian legends also attribute many fire and light symbols to the saints. [59] The twelve apostles, for example, are likened to the twelve signs of the zodiac, and are represented, therefore, with a star over the head. [60]

It is not to be wondered at that the heathen, as Tertullian avows, considered the sun as the Christian God. Among the Manichaeans God was really the sun. One of the most remarkable works extant, where the Pagan, Asiatic, Hellenic and Christian intermingle, is the Image, edited by Wirth. [61] This is a book of fables, but, nevertheless, a mine for near-Christian phantasies, which gives a profound insight into Christian symbolism. In this is found the following magical dedication: Image Image [xvii] In certain parts of Armenia the rising sun is still worshipped by Christians, that "it may let its foot rest upon the faces of the worshippers." [62] The foot occurs as an anthropomorphic attribute, and we have already met the theriomorphic attribute in the feathers and the sun phallus. Other comparisons of the sun's ray, as knife, sword, arrow, and so on, have also, as we have learned from the psychology of the dream, a phallic meaning at bottom. This meaning is attached to the foot as I here point out, [63] and also to the feathers, or hair, of the sun, which signify the power or strength of the sun. I refer to the story of Samson, and to that of the Apocalypse of Baruch, concerning the phoenix bird, which, flying before the sun, loses its feathers, and, exhausted, is strengthened again in an ocean bath at evening.

Under the symbol of "moth and sun" we have dug down into the historic depths of the soul, and in doing this we have uncovered an old buried idol, the youthful, beautiful, fire-encircled and halo-crowned sun-hero, who, forever unattainable to the mortal, wanders upon the earth, causing night to follow day; winter, summer; death, life; and who returns again in rejuvenated splendor and gives light to new generations. The longing of the dreamer concealed behind the moth stands for him.

The ancient pre-Asiatic civilizations were acquainted with a sun-worship having the idea of a God dying and rising again (Osiris, Tammuz, Attis-Adonis), [64] Christ, Mithra and his bull, [65] Phoenix and so on. The beneficent power as well as the destroying power was worshipped in fire. The forces of nature always have two sides, as we have already seen in the God of Job. This reciprocal bond brings us back once more to Miss Miller's poem. Her reminiscences support our previous supposition, that the symbol of moth and sun is a condensation of two ideas, about one of which we have just spoken; the other is the moth and the flame. As the title of a play, about the contents of which the author tells us absolutely nothing, "Moth and Flame" may easily have the well-known erotic meaning of flying around the flame of passion until one's wings are burned. The passionate longing, that is to say, the libido, has its two sides; it is power which beautifies everything, and which under other circumstances destroys everything. It often appears as if one could not accurately understand in what the destroying quality of the creative power consists. A woman who gives herself up to passion, particularly under the present-day condition of culture, experiences the destructive side only too soon. One has only to imagine one's self a little away from the every-day moral conditions in order to understand what feelings of extreme insecurity overwhelm the individual who gives himself unconditionally over to Fate.

Image

SOME OF US DO GO ON THIS JOURNEY
WE DIDN'T STAND UP AND SAY WE VOLUNTEER
(IT DIDN'T WORK THAT WAY AT ALL
IT'S NOT LIKE YOU HAD A CHOICE
OF VOLUNTEERING OR NOT VOLUNTEERING)
THAT ISN'T THE WAY IT WORKS.
IT'S AS IF YOU'RE PROPELLED INTO IT
LIKE THE MOTH INTO THE FLAME

-- Be Here Now, by Ram Dass


To be fruitful means, indeed, to destroy one's self, because with the rise of the succeeding generation the previous one has passed beyond its highest point; thus our descendants are our most dangerous enemies, whom we cannot overcome, for they will outlive us, and, therefore, without fail, will take the power from our enfeebled hands. The anxiety in the face of the erotic fate is wholly understandable, for there is something immeasurable therein. Fate usually hides unknown dangers, and the perpetual hesitation of the neurotic to venture upon life is easily explained by his desire to be allowed to stand still, so as not to take part in the dangerous battle of life. [66] Whoever renounces the chance to experience must stifle in himself the wish for it, and, therefore, commits a sort of self-murder. From this the death phantasies which readily accompany the renunciation of the erotic wish are made clear. In the poem Miss Miller has voiced these phantasies.

She adds further to the material with the following:

"I had been reading a selection from one of Byron's poems which pleased me very much and made a deep and lasting impression. Moreover, the rhythm of my last two verses, 'For I the source, etc.,' and the two lines of Byron's are very similar.

'Now let me die as I have lived in faith,
Nor tremble though the universe should quake.'"


This reminiscence with which the series of ideas is closed confirms the death phantasies which follow from renunciation of the erotic wish. The quotation comes which Miss Miller did not mention from an uncompleted poem of Byron's called "Heaven and Earth." [67] The whole verse follows:

"Still blessed be the Lord,
For what is passed,
For that which is;
For all are His,
From first to last --
Time -- Space -- Eternity -- Life -- Death --
The vast known and immeasurable unknown
He made and can unmake,
And shall I for a little gasp of breath
Blaspheme and groan?
No, let me die as I have lived in faith,
Nor quiver though the universe may quake!"


The words are included in a kind of praise or prayer, spoken by a "mortal" who is in hopeless flight before the mounting deluge. Miss Miller puts herself in the same situation in her quotation; that is to say, she readily lets it be seen that her feeling is similar to the despondency of the unhappy ones who find themselves hard pressed by the threatening mounting waters of the deluge. With this the writer allows us a deep look into the dark abyss of her longing for the sun-hero. We see that her longing is in vain; she is a mortal, only for a short time borne upwards into the light by means of the highest longing, and then sinking to death, or, much more, urged upwards by the fear of death, like the people before the deluge, and in spite of the desperate conflict, irretrievably given over to destruction. This is a mood which recalls vividly the closing scene in "Cyrano de Bergerac": [68]

C
yrano:

Oh, mais . . . puisqu'elle est en chemin,
Je l'attendrai debout . . . et l'epee a la main.

Que dites-vous? . . . C'est inutile? Je le sais.
Mais on ne se bat pas dans l'espoir du succes.
Non, non. C'est bien plus beau lorsque c'est inutile.

Je sais bien qu'a la fin vous me mettrez a bas. . . .

[Google translate: Oh, but. . . since Death comes,
I will wait up. . . and the sword in hand.
What do you say? . . . It is useless? I know.
But we do not fight in the hope of success.
No, no. It's much nicer when it is useless.
I know that at the end you will lay me down to....]


We already know sufficiently well what longing and what impulse it is that attempts to clear a way for itself to the light, but that it may be realized quite clearly and irrevocably, it is shown plainly in the quotation "No, let me die," which confirms and completes all earlier remarks. The divine, the "much-beloved," who is honored in the image of the sun, is also the goal of the longing of our poet.

Byron's "Heaven and Earth" is a mystery founded on the following passage from Genesis, chapter vi:2: "And it came to pass . . . that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and they took them wives of all that they chose." Byron offers as a further motif for his poem the following passage from Coleridge: "And woman wailing for her Demon lover." Byron's poem is concerned with two great events, one psychologic and one telluric; the passion which throws down all barriers; and all the terrors of the unchained powers of nature: a parallel which has already been introduced into our earlier discussion. The angels Samiasa and Azaziel burn with sinful love for the beautiful daughters of Cain, Anah and Aholibama, and force a way through the barrier which is placed between mortal and immortal. They revolt as Lucifer once did against God, and the archangel Raphael raises his voice warningly:

"But man hath listened to his voice
And ye to woman's -- beautiful she is,
The serpent's voice less subtle than her kiss.
The snake but vanquished dust; but she will draw
A second host from heaven to break heaven's law."


The power of God is threatened by the seduction of passion; a second fall of angels menaces heaven. Let us translate this mythologic projection back into the psychologic, from whence it originated. Then it would read: the power of the good and reasonable ruling the world wisely is threatened by the chaotic primitive power of passion; therefore passion must be exterminated; that is to say, projected into mythology. The race of Cain and the whole sinful world must be destroyed from the roots by the deluge. It is the inevitable result of that sinful passion which has broken through all barriers. Its counterpart is the sea and the waters of the deep and the floods of rain, [69] the generating, fructifying and "maternal waters," as the Indian mythology refers to them. Now they leave their natural bounds and surge over the mountain tops, engulfing all living things; for passion destroys itself. The libido is God and Devil. With the destruction of the sinfulness of the libido an essential portion of the libido would be destroyed. Through the loss of the Devil, God himself suffered a considerable loss, somewhat like an amputation upon the body of the Divinity. The mysterious hint in Raphael's lament concerning the two rebels, Samiasa and Azaziel, suggests this.

". . . . Why,

Cannot this earth be made, or be destroyed,
Without involving ever some vast void
In the immortal ranks? . . ."


Love raises man, not only above himself, but also above the bounds of his mortality and earthliness, up to divinity itself, and in the very act of raising him it destroys him. Mythologically, this self-presumption finds its striking expression in the building of the heaven-high tower of Babel, which brings confusion to mankind. [70] In Byron's poem it is the sinful ambition of the race of Cain, for love of which it makes even the stars subservient and leads away the sons of God themselves. If, indeed, longing for the highest things -- if I may speak so -- is legitimate, then it lies in the circumstances that it leaves its human boundaries, that of sinfulness, and, therefore, destruction. The longing of the moth for the star is not absolutely pure and transparent, but glows in sultry mist, for man continues to be man. Through the excess of his longing he draws down the divine into the corruption of his passion; [71] therefore, he seems to raise himself to the Divine; but with that his humanity is destroyed. Thus the love of Anah and Aholibama for their angels becomes the ruin of gods and men. The invocation with which Cain's daughters implore their angels is psychologically an exact parallel to Miss Miller's poem.

Anah: [72]

Seraph! From thy sphere!
Whatever star [73] contains thy glory.

In the eternal depths of heaven
Albeit thou watchest with the 'seven,'
Though through space infinite and hoary
Before thy bright wings worlds will be driven,

Yet hear! Oh! think of her who holds thee dear!

And though she nothing is to thee,
Yet think that thou art all to her.

***

Eternity is in thy years,
Unborn, undying beauty in thine eyes;
With me thou canst not sympathize,
Except in love, and there thou must
Acknowledge that more loving dust
Ne'er wept beneath the skies.
Thou walkest thy many worlds, [74] thou seest
The face of him who made thee great,
As he hath made of me the least
Of those cast out from Eden's gate;

Yet, Seraph, dear!
Oh hear!

For thou hast loved me, and I would not die
Until I know what I must die in knowing,
That thou forgettest in thine eternity
Her whose heart death could not keep from o'erflowing
For thee, immortal essence as thou art, [76]
Great is their love who love in sin and fear;
And such, I feel, are waging in my heart
A war unworthy: to an Adamite
Forgive, my Seraph! that such thoughts appear.
For sorrow is our element ...

***

The hour is near
Which tells me we are not abandoned quite.
Appear! Appear!
Seraph!
My own Azaziel! be but here,
And leave the stars to their own light.

Aholibama:

I call thee, I await thee and I love thee.

***

Though I be formed of clay,
And thou of beams [76]
More bright than those of day on Eden's streams,
Thine immortality cannot repay
With love more warm than mine
My love. There is a ray [77]
In me, which though forbidden yet to shine,
I feel was lighted at thy God's and mine. [78]
It may be hidden long: death and decay
Our mother Eve bequeathed us -- but my heart
Defies it: though this life must pass away,
Is that a cause for thee and me to part?

***

I can share all things, even immortal sorrow;
For thou hast ventured to share life with me,
And shall I shrink from thine eternity?
No, though the serpent's sting [79] should pierce me through,
And thou thyself wert like the serpent, coil
Around me still. [80] And I will smile
And curse thee not, but hold
Thee in as warm a fold
As -- but descend and prove
A mortal's love
For an immortal. . . .


The apparition of both angels which follows the invocation is, as always, a shining vision of light.

Aholibama:

The clouds from off their pinions flinging
As though they bore to-morrow's light.

Anah:
But if our father see the sight!

Aholibama:

He would but deem it was the moon
Rising unto some sorcerer's tune
An hour too soon.

***

Anah:

Lo! They have kindled all the west,
Like a returning sunset. . . .
On Ararat's late secret crest
A wild and many colored bow,
The remnant of their flashing path,
Now shines! . . .


At the sight of this many-colored vision of light, where both women are entirely filled with desire and expectation, Anah makes use of a simile full of presentiment, which suddenly allows us to look down once more into the dismal dark depths, out of which for a moment the terrible animal nature of the mild god of light emerges.

"... and now, behold! it hath
Returned to night, as rippling foam,
Which the leviathan hath lashed
From his unfathomable home,
When sporting on the face of the calm deep,
Subsides soon after he again hath dash'd
Down, down to where the ocean's fountains sleep."


Thus like the leviathan! We recall this overpowering weight in the scale of God's justice in regard to the man Job. There, where the deep sources of the ocean are, the leviathan lives; from there the all-destroying flood ascends, the all-engulfing flood of animal passion. That stifling, compressing feeling [81] of the onward-surging impulse is projected mythologically as a flood which, rising up and over all, destroys all that exists, in order to allow a new and better creation to come forth from this destruction.

Japhet:

The eternal will
Shall deign to expound this dream
Of good and evil; and redeem
Unto himself all times, all things;

And, gather'd under his almighty wings,
Abolish hell!
And to the expiated Earth
Restore the beauty of her birth.

Spirits:

And when shall take effect this wondrous spell?

Japhet:

When the Redeemer cometh; first in pain
And then in glory.

Spirits:

New times, new climes, new arts, new men, but still
The same old tears, old crimes, and oldest ill,
Shall be amongst your race in different forms;
But the same mortal storms
Shall oversweep the future, as the waves
In a few hours the glorious giants' graves.


The prophetic visions of Japhet have almost prophetic meaning for our poetess; with the death of the moth in the light, evil is once more laid aside; the complex has once again, even if in a censored form, expressed itself. With that, however, the problem is not solved; all sorrow and every longing begins again from the beginning, but there is "Promise in the Air" -- the premonition of the Redeemer, of the "Well-beloved," of the Sun-hero, who again mounts to the height of the sun and again descends to the coldness of the winter, who is the light of hope from race to race, the image of the libido.

_______________

Notes:

i. "The last age of Cumean prophecy has come already!
Over again the great series of the ages commences:
Now too returns the Virgin, return the Saturnian kingdoms;
Now at length a new progeny is sent down from high Heaven.
Only, chaste Lucina, to the boy at his birth be propitious,
In whose time first the age of iron shall discontinue,
And in the whole world a golden age arise: now rules thy Apollo.

Under thy guidance, if any traces of our guilt continue,
Rendered harmless, they shall set the earth free from fear forever,
He shall partake of the life of the gods, and he shall see Heroes mingled with gods, and he too shall be seen by them.
And he shall rule a peaceful world with his father's virtues."

ii. Sacred word.

iii. I am a star wandering about with you, and flaming up from the depths.

iv. Hear me, grant me my prayer Binding together the fiery bolts of heaven with spirit, two-bodied fiery sky, creator of humanity, fire-breathing, fiery-spirited, spiritual being rejoicing in fire, beauty of humanity, ruler of humanity of fiery body, light-giver to men, fire-scattering, fire-agitated, life of humanity, fire-whirled, mover of men who confounds with thunder, famed among men, increasing the human race, enlightening humanity, conqueror of stars.

v. The path of the visible Gods will appear through the sun, the God my father.

vi. Translated by Dr. T. G. Wrench.

vii. After you have said the second prayer, when silence is twice commanded; then whistle twice and snap twice, [28] and straightway you will see many five-pointed stars coming down from the sun and filling the whole lower air. But say once again Silence! Silence! and you, Neophyte, will see the Circle and fiery doors cut off from the opening disc of the sun.

viii. Five-fingered stars.

ix. "Ecce Homo," translated by A. M. Ludovici.

x. In like manner the so-called tube, the origin of the ministering wind, will become visible. For it will appear to you as a tube hanging down from the sun.

xi. "You will see the god youthful, graceful, with glowing locks, in a white garment and a scarlet cloak, with a fiery helmet."

xii. "You will see a god very powerful, with a shining countenance, young, with golden hair, clothed in white vestments, with a golden crown, holding in his right hand a bullock's golden shoulder, that is, the bear constellation, which wandering hourly up and down, moves and turns the heavens: then out of his eyes you will see lightning spring forth and from his body, stars."

xiii. Helios, the rising sun -- the only sun rising from heaven!

xiv. "O, how remarkable a providence that Christ should be born on the same day on which the sun moves onward, V. Kal. of April the fourth holiday, and for this reason the prophet Malachi spoke to the people concerning Christ: 'Unto you shall the sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings, this is the sun of righteousness in whose wings healing shall be displayed.'"

xv. Moreover the Lord is born in the month of December in the winter on the 8th Kal. of January when the ripe olives are gathered, so that the oil, that is the chrism, may be produced, moreover they call it the birthday of the Unconquered One. Who in any case is as unconquered as our Lord, who conquered death itself? Or why should they call it the birthday of the sun; he himself is the sun of righteousness, concerning whom Malachi, the prophet, spoke: 'The Lord is the author of light and of darkness, he is the judge spoken of by the prophet as the Sun of righteousness.'"

xvi. "Ah! woe to the worshippers of the sun and the moon and the stars. For I know many worshippers and prayer sayers to the sun. For now at the rising of the sun, they worship and say, 'Have mercy on us,' and not only the sun-gnostics and the heretics do this, but also Christians who leave their faith and mix with the heretics."

xvii. "To Zeus, the Great Sun God, the King, the Saviour."
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 3:54 am

Part Two

Chapter 1: Aspects of the Libido


A backward glance -- The sun the natural god -- Comparison with libido -- Libido, "sun-energy" -- The sun-image as seen by the mystic in introversion -- The phallic symbol of the libido -- Faust's key -- Mythical heroes with phallic attributes -- These heroes personifications of the human libido and its typical fates -- A definition of the word "libido" -- Its etymological context.

BEFORE I enter upon the contents of this second part, it seems necessary to cast a backward glance over the singular train of thought which the analysis of the poem "The Moth to the Sun" has produced. Although this poem is very different from the foregoing Hymn of Creation, closer investigation of the "longing for the sun" has carried us into the realm of the fundamental ideas of religion and astral mythology, which ideas are closely related to those considered in the first poem. The creative God of the first poem, whose dual nature, moral and physical, was shown especially clearly to us by Job, has in the second poem a new qualification of astral-mythological, or, to express it better, of astrological character. The God becomes the sun, and in this finds an adequate natural expression quite apart from the moral division of the God idea into the heavenly father and the devil. The sun is, as Renan remarked, really the only rational representation of God, whether we take the point of view of the barbarians of other ages or that of the modern physical sciences. In both cases the sun is the parent God, mythologically predominantly the Father God, from whom all living things draw life; He is the fructifier and creator of all that lives, the source of energy of our world. The discord into which the soul of man has fallen through the action of moral laws [1] can be resolved into complete harmony through the sun as the natural object which obeys no human moral law. The sun is not only beneficial, but also destructive; therefore the zodiacal representation of the August heat is the herd-devouring lion whom the Jewish hero Samson [2] killed in order to free the parched earth from this plague. Yet it is the harmonious and inherent nature of the sun to scorch, and its scorching power seems natural to men. It shines equally on the just and on the unjust, and allows useful living objects to flourish as well as harmful ones. Therefore, the sun is adapted as is nothing else to represent the visible God of this world. That is to say, that driving strength of our own soul, which we call libido, and whose nature it is to allow the useful and injurious, the good and the bad to proceed. That this comparison is no mere play of words is taught us by the mystics. When by looking inwards (introversion) and going down into the depths of their own being they find "in their heart" the image of the Sun, they find their own love or libido, which with reason, I might say with physical reason, is called the Sun; for our source of energy and life is the Sun. Thus our life substance, as an energic process, is entirely Sun. Of what special sort this "Sun energy" seen inwardly by the mystic is, is shown by an example taken from the Hindoo mythology. [3] From the explanation of Part III of the "Shvetashvataropanishad" we take the following quotation, which relates to the Rudra: [4]

(2) "Yea, the one Rudra who all these worlds with ruling power doth rule, stands not for any second. Behind those that are born he stands; at ending time ingathers all the worlds he hath evolved, protector (he).

(3) "He hath eyes on all sides, on all sides surely hath faces, arms surely on all sides, on all sides feet. With arms, with wings he tricks them out, creating heaven and earth, the only God.

(4) "Who of the gods is both the source and growth, the Lord of all, the Rudra. Mighty seer; who brought the shining germ of old into existence -- may he with reason pure conjoin us." [5]


These attributes allow us clearly to discern the all-creator and in him the Sun, which has wings and with a thousand eyes scans the world. [6]

The following passages confirm the text and join to it the idea most important for us, that God is also contained in the individual creature:

(7) "Beyond this (world) the Brahman beyond, the mighty one, in every creature hid according to its form, the one encircling Lord of all, Him having known, immortal they become.

(8) "I know this mighty man, Sun-like, beyond the darkness, Him (and him) only knowing, one crosseth over death; no other path (at all) is there to go.

(11) ". . . spread over the universe is He the Lord therefore as all-pervader, He's benign."


The powerful God, the equal of the Sun, is in that one, and whoever knows him is immortal. [7] Going on further with the text, we come upon a new attribute, which informs us in what form and manner Rudra lived in men.

(12) "The mighty monarch, He, the man, the one who doth the essence start towards that peace of perfect stainlessness, lordly, exhaustless light.

(13) "The Man, the size of a thumb, the inner self, sits ever in the heart of all that's born, by mind, mind ruling in the heart, is He revealed. That they who know, immortal they become.

(14) "The Man of the thousands of heads (and) thousands of eyes (and) thousands of feet, covering the earth on all sides, He stands beyond, ten finger-breadths.

(15) "The Man is verily this all, (both) what has been and what will be, Lord (too) of deathlessness which far all else surpasses."


Important parallel quotations are to be found in the "Kathopanishad," section 2, part 4.

(12) "The Man of the size of a thumb, resides in the midst within the self, of the past and the future, the Lord.

(13) "The Man of the size of a thumb like flame free from smoke, of past and of future the Lord, the same is to-day, tomorrow the same will He be."


Who this Tom-Thumb is can easily be divined -- the phallic symbol of the libido. The phallus is this hero dwarf, who performs great deeds; he, this ugly god in homely form, who is the great doer of wonders, since he is the visible expression of the creative strength incarnate in man. This extraordinary contrast is also very striking in "Faust" (the mother scene):

Mephistopheles:

I'll praise thee ere we separate: I see Thou knowest the devil thoroughly: Here take this key.

Faust:

That little thing!

Mephistopheles:

Take hold of it, not undervaluing!

Faust:

It glows, it shines, increases in my hand!

Mephistopheles:

How much it is worth, thou soon shalt understand, The key will scent the true place from all others! Follow it down! -- 'twill lead thee to the Mothers! [i]


Here the devil again puts into Faust's hand the marvellous tool, a phallic symbol of the libido, as once before in the beginning the devil, in the form of the black dog, accompanied Faust, when he introduced himself with the words:

"Part of that power, not understood, Which always wills the bad and always creates the good."


United to this strength, Faust succeeded in accomplishing his real life task, at first through evil adventure and then for the benefit of humanity, for without the evil there is no creative power. Here in the mysterious mother scene, where the poet unveils the last mystery of the creative power to the initiated, Faust has need of the phallic magic wand (in the magic strength of which he has at first no confidence), in order to perform the greatest of wonders, namely, the creation of Paris and Helen. With that Faust attains the divine power of working miracles, and, indeed, only by means of this small, insignificant instrument. This paradoxical impression seems to be very ancient, for even the Upanishads could say the following of the dwarf god:

(19) "Without hands, without feet, He moveth, He graspeth: Eyeless He seeth, (and) earless He heareth: He knoweth what is to be known, yet is there no knower of Him. Him call the first, mighty the Man.

(20) "Smaller than small, (yet) greater than great in the heart of this creature the self doth repose . . . etc."


The phallus is the being, which moves without limbs, which sees without eyes, which knows the future; and as symbolic representative of the universal creative power existent everywhere immortality is vindicated in it. It is always thought of as entirely independent, an idea current not only in antiquity, but also apparent in the pornographic drawings of our children and artists. It is a seer, an artist and a worker of wonders; therefore it should not surprise us when certain phallic characteristics are found again in the mythological seer, artist and sorcerer. Hephaestus, Wieland the smith, and Mani, the founder of Manicheism, whose followers were also famous, have crippled feet. The ancient seer Melampus possessed a suggestive name (Blackfoot), [8] and it seems also to be typical for seers to be blind. Dwarfed stature, ugliness and deformity have become especially typical for those mysterious chthonian gods, the sons of Hephaestus, the Cabiri, [9] to whom great power to perform miracles was ascribed. The name signifies "powerful," and the Samothracian cult is most intimately united with that of the ithyphallic Hermes, who, according to the account of Herodotus, was brought to Attica by the Pelasgians. They are also called Image , the great gods. Their near relations are the "Idaean dactyli " (finger or Idaean thumb), [10] to whom the mother of the gods had taught the blacksmith's art. ("The key will scent the true place from all others! follow it down! -- 't will lead thee to the Mothers!") They were the first leaders, the teachers of Orpheus, and invented the Ephesian magic formulas and the musical rhythms. [11] The characteristic disparity which is shown above in the Upanishad text, and in "Faust," is also found here, since the gigantic Hercules passed as an Idaean dactyl.

The colossal Phrygians, the skilled servants of Rhea, [12] were also Dactyli. The Babylonian teacher of wisdom, Oannes, [13] was represented in a phallic fish form. [14] The two sun heroes, the Dioscuri, stand in relation to the Cabiri; [15] they also wear the remarkable pointed head-covering (Pileus) which is peculiar to these mysterious gods, [16] and which is perpetuated from that time on as a secret mark of identification. Attis (the elder brother of Christ) wears the pointed cap, just as does Mithra. It has also become traditional for our present-day chthonian infantile gods, [17] the brownies (Penates), and all the typical kind of dwarfs. Freud [18] has already called our attention to the phallic meaning of the hat in modern phantasies. A further significance is that probably the pointed cap represents the foreskin. In order not to go too far afield from my theme, I must be satisfied here merely to present the suggestion. But at a later opportunity I shall return to this point with detailed proof.

The dwarf form leads to the figure of the divine boy, the puer eternus, the young Dionysus, Jupiter Anxurus, Tages, [19] and so on. In the vase painting of Thebes, already mentioned, a bearded Dionysus is represented as Image , together with a figure of a boy as Image , followed by a caricatured boy's figure designated as Imageand then again a caricatured man, which is represented as Image . Image really means thread, but in orphic speech it stands for semen. It was conjectured that this collection corresponded to a group of statuary in the sanctuary of a cult. This supposition is supported by the history of the cult as far as it is known; it is an original Phoenician cult of father and son; [21] of an old and young Cabir who were more or less assimilated with the Grecian gods. The double figures of the adult and the child Dionysus lend themselves particularly to this assimilation. One might also call this the cult of the large and small man. Now, under various aspects, Dionysus is a phallic god in whose worship the phallus held an important place; for example, in the cult of the Argivian Bull -- Dionysus. Moreover, the phallic herme of the god has given occasion for a personification of the phallus of Dionysus, in the form of the god Phales, who is nothing else but a Priapus. He is called Image or Image [ii]. [22] Corresponding to this state of affairs, one cannot very well fail to recognize in the previously mentioned Cabiric representation, and in the added boy's figure, the picture of man and his penis. [23] The previously mentioned paradox in the Upanishad text of large and small, of giant and dwarf, is expressed more mildly here by man and boy, or father and son. [24] The motive of deformity which is used constantly by the Cabiric cult is present also in the vase picture, while the parallel figures to Dionysus and Image are the caricatured Image and Image . Just as formerly the difference in size gave occasion for division, so does the deformity here. [25]

Without first bringing further proof to bear, I may remark that from this knowledge especially strong sidelights are thrown upon the original psychologic meaning of the religious heroes. Dionysus stands in an intimate relation with the psychology of the early Asiatic God who died and rose again from the dead and whose manifold manifestations have been brought together in the figure of Christ into a firm personality enduring for centuries. We gain from our premise the knowledge that these heroes, as well as their typical fates, are personifications of the human libido and its typical fates. They are imagery, like the figures of our nightly dreams -- the actors and interpreters of our secret thoughts. And since we, in the present day, have the power to decipher the symbolism of dreams and thereby surmise the mysterious psychologic history of development of the individual, so a way is here opened to the understanding of the secret springs of impulse beneath the psychologic development of races. Our previous trains of thought, which demonstrate the phallic side of the symbolism of the libido, also show how thoroughly justified is the term "libido." [26] Originally taken from the sexual sphere, this word has become the most frequent technical expression of psychoanalysis, for the simple reason that its significance is wide enough to cover all the unknown and countless manifestations of the Will in the sense of Schopenhauer. It is sufficiently comprehensive and rich in meaning to characterize the real nature of the psychical entity which it includes. The exact classical significance of the word libido qualifies it as an entirely appropriate term. Libido is taken in a very wide sense in Cicero: [27]

"(Volunt ex duobus opinatis) bonis (nasci) Libidinem et Laetitiam; ut sit laetitia praesentium bonorum: libido futurorum. -- Laetitia autem et Libido in bonorum opinione versantur, cum Libido ad id, quod videtur bonum, illecta et inflammata rapiatur. -- Natura enim omnes ea, quae bona videntur, sequuntur, fugiuntque contraria. Quamobrem simul objecta species cuiuspiam est, quod bonum videatur, ad id adipiscendum impellit ipsa natura. Id cum constanter prudenterque fit, ejusmodi appetitionem stoici Image appellant, nos appellamus voluntatem; earn illi putant in solo esse sapiente, quam sic definiunt; voluntas est quae quid cum ratione desiderat : quae autem ratione adversa incitata est vehementius, ea libido est, vel cupiditas effrenata, quae in omnibus stultis invenitur." [iii]*

The meaning of libido here is "to wish," and in the stoical distinction of will, dissolute desire. Cicero [28] used "libido" in a corresponding sense:

"Agere rem aliquam libidine, non ratione." [iv]


In the same sense Sallust says:

"Iracundia pars est libidinis."


In another place in a milder and more general sense, which completely approaches the analytical use:

"Magisque in decoris armis et militaribus equis, quam in scortis et conviviis libidinem habebant." [v]


Also:

"Quod si tibi bona libido fuerit patriae, etc."


The use of libido is so general that the phrase "libido est scire" merely had the significance of "I will, it pleases me." In the phrase "aliquam libido urinae lacessit" libido had the meaning of urgency. The significance of sexual desire is also present in the classics.

This general classical application of the conception agrees with the corresponding etymological context of the word, libido or lubido (with libet, more ancient lubet) , it pleases me, and libens or lubens = gladly, willingly. Sanskrit, lubhyati = to experience violent longing, lobhayati = excites longing, lubdha-h = eager, lobha-h = longing, eagerness. Gothic = liufs, and Old High German liob = love. Moreover, in Gothic, lubains was represented as hope ; and Old High German, lobon = to praise, lob = commendation, praise, glory; Old Bulgarian, ljubiti = to love, ljuby = love ; Lithuanian, liaupsinti = to praise. [29] It can be said that the conception of libido as developed in the new work of Freud and of his school has functionally the same significance in the biological territory as has the conception of energy since the time of Robert Mayer in the physical realm. [30] It may not be superfluous to say something more at this point concerning the conception of libido after we have followed the formation of its symbol to its highest expression in the human form of the religious hero.

_______________

Notes:

i. Bayard Taylor's translation of "Faust" is used throughout this book. -- TRANSLATOR.

ii. Comrade fellow-reveller.

iii. From the good proceed desire and joy -- joy having reference to some present good, and desire to some future one but joy and desire depend upon the opinion of good ; as desire being inflamed and provoked is carried on eagerly toward what has the appearance of good, and joy is transported and exults on obtaining what was desired: for we naturally pursue those things that have the appearance of good, and avoid the contrary -- wherefore as soon as anything that has the appearance of good presents itself, nature incites us to endeavor to obtain it. Now where this strong desire is consistent and founded on prudence, it is by the stoics called Bulesis and the name which we give it is volition, and this they allow to none but their wise men, and define it thus; volition is a reasonable desire; but whatever is incited too violently in opposition to reason, that is a lust or an unbridled desire which is discoverable in all fools. -- The Tusculan Disputation, Cicero, page 403.

iv. Libido is used for arms and military horses rather than for dissipations and banquets.

v. Libido is used for arms and military horses rather than for dissipations and banquets.
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 3:56 am

Chapter 2: The Conception and the Genetic Theory of Libido

A widening of the conception of libido -- New light from the study of paranoia -- The impossibility of restricting the conception of libido to the sexual -- A genetic definition -- The function of reality only partly sexual -- Yet this, and other functions, originally derivations from procreative impulse -- The process of transformation -- Libido, and the conception of will in general -- Examples in mythology -- The stages of the libido: its desexualized derivatives and differentiations -- Sublimation vs. repression -- Splittings off of the primal libido -- Application of genetic theory of libido to introversion psychoses -- Replacing reality by archaic surrogates -- Desexualizing libido by means of phantastic analogy formations -- Possibly human consciousness brought to present state in this manner -- The importance of the little phrase: "Even as."

THE chief source of the history of the analytic conception of libido is Freud's "Three Contributions to the Sexual Theory." There the term libido is conceived by him in the original narrow sense of sexual impulse, sexual need. Experience forces us to the assumption of a capacity for displacement of the libido, because functions or localizations of non-sexual force are undoubtedly capable of taking up a certain amount of libidinous sexual impetus, a libidinous afflux. [1] Functions or objects could, therefore, obtain sexual value, which under normal circumstances really have nothing to do with sexuality. [2] From this fact results the Freudian comparison of the libido with a stream, which is divisible, which can be dammed up, which overflows into branches, and so on. [3] Freud's original conception does not interpret "everything sexual," although this has been asserted by critics, but recognizes the existence of certain forces, the nature of which are not well known; to which Freud, however, compelled by the notorious facts which are evident to any layman, grants the capacity to receive " affluxes of libido." The hypothetical idea at the basis is the symbol of the "Triebbiindel" [4] (bundle of impulses), wherein the sexual impulse figures as a partial impulse of the whole system, and its encroachment into the other realms of impulse is a fact of experience. The theory of Freud, branching off from this interpretation, according to which the motor forces of a neurotic system correspond precisely to their libidinous additions to other (non-sexual) functional impulses, has been sufficiently proven as correct, it seems to me, by the work of Freud and his school. [5] Since the appearance of the " Three Contributions," in 1905, a change has taken place [6] in the libido conception; its field of application has been widened. An extremely clear example of this amplification is this present work. However, I must state that Freud, as well as myself, saw the need of widening the conception of libido. It was paranoia, so closely related to dementia praecox, which seemed to compel Freud to enlarge the earlier limits of the conception. The passage in question, which I will quote here, word for word, reads: [7]

"A third consideration which presents itself, in regard to the views developed here, starts the query as to whether we should accept as sufficiently effectual the universal receding of the libido from the outer world, in order to interpret from that, the end of the world: or whether in this case, the firmly rooted possession of the 'I' must not suffice to uphold the rapport with the outer world. Then one must either let that which we call possession of the libido (interest from erotic sources) coincide with interest in general, or else take into consideration the possibility that great disturbance in the disposition of the libido can also induce a corresponding disturbance in the possession of the 'I.' Now, these are the problems, which we are still absolutely helpless and unfitted to answer. Things would be different could we proceed from a safe fund of knowledge of instinct. But the truth is, we have nothing of that kind at our disposal. We understand instinct as the resultant of the reaction of the somatic and the psychic. We see in it the psychical representation of organic forces and take the popular distinction between the 'I' impulse and the sexual impulse, which appears to us to be in accord with the biological double role of the individual being who aspires to his own preservation as well as to the preservation of the species. But anything beyond this is a structure, which we set up, and also willingly let fall again in order to orient ourselves in the confusion of the dark processes of the soul; we expect particularly, from the psychoanalytic investigations into diseased soul processes, to have certain decisions forced upon us in regard to questions of the theory of instinct. This expectation has not yet been fulfilled on account of the still immature and limited investigations in these fields. At present the possibility of the reaction of libido disturbance upon the possession of the 'I' can be shown as little as the reverse; the secondary or induced disturbances of the libido processes through abnormal changes in the 'I.' It is probable that processes of this sort form the distinctive character of the psychoses. The conclusions arising from this, in relation to paranoia, are at present uncertain. One cannot assert that the paranoiac has completely withdrawn his interest from the outer world, nor withdrawn into the heights of repression, as one some times sees in certain other forms of hallucinatory psychoses. He takes notice of the outer world, he takes account of its changes, he is stirred to explanations by their influence, and therefore I consider it highly probable that the changed relation to the world is to be explained, wholly or in great part, by the deficiency of the libido interest."


In this passage Freud plainly touches upon the question whether the well-known longing for reality of the paranoic dement (and the dementia praecox patients), [8] to whom I have especially called attention in my book, "The Psychology of Dementia Praecox," [9] is to be traced back to the withdrawal of the "libidinous affluxes" alone, or whether this coincides with the so-called objective interest in general. It is hardly to be assumed that the normal "fonction du reel" (Janet) is maintained only through affluxes of libido or erotic interest. The fact is that in very many cases reality disappears entirely, so that not a trace of psychological adaptation or orientation can be recognized. Reality is repressed under these circumstances and replaced by the contents of the complex. One must of necessity say that not only the erotic interest but the interest in general has disappeared, that is to say, the whole adaptation to reality has ceased. To this category belong the stuporose and catatonic automatons.

I have previously made use of the expression "psychic energy" in my "Psychology of Dementia Praecox " because I was unable to establish the theory of this psychosis upon the conception of the displacement of the affluxes of libido. My experience, at that time chiefly psychiatric, did not enable me to understand this theory. However, the correctness of this theory in regard to neuroses, strictly speaking the transference neuroses, was proven to me later after increased experience in the field of hysteria and compulsion neuroses. In the territory of these neuroses it is mainly a question whether any portion of the libido which is spared through the specific repression becomes introverted and regressive into earlier paths of transference; for example, the path of the parental transference. [11] With that, however, the former non-sexual psychologic adaptation to the environment remains preserved so far as it does not concern the erotic and its secondary positions (symptoms). The reality which is lacking to the patients is just that portion of the libido to be found in the neurosis. In dementia praecox, on the contrary, not merely that portion of libido which is saved in the well-known specific sexual repression is lacking for reality, but much more than one could write down to the account of sexuality in a strict sense. The function of reality is lacking to such a degree that even the motive power must be encroached upon in the loss. The sexual character of this must be disputed absolutely, [12] for reality is not understood to be a sexual function. Moreover, if that were so, the introversion of the libido in the strict sense must have as a result a loss of reality in the neuroses, and, indeed, a loss which could be compared with that of dementia praecox. These facts have rendered it impossible for me to transfer Freud's theory of libido to dementia praecox, and, therefore, I am of the opinion that Abraham's investigation [13] is hardly tenable theoretically, from the standpoint of the Freudian theory of libido. If Abraham believes that through the withdrawal of the libido from the outer world the paranoid system or the schizophrenic symptomatology results, then this assumption is not justified from the standpoint of the knowledge of that time, because a mere libido introversion and regression leads, speedily, as Freud has clearly shown, into the neuroses, and, strictly speaking, into the transference neuroses, and not into dementia praecox. Therefore, the transference of the libido theory to dementia praecox is impossible, because this illness produces a loss of reality which cannot be explained by the deficiency of the libido defined in this narrow sense.

It affords me especial satisfaction that our teacher also, when he laid his hand on the delicate material of the paranoic psychology, was forced to doubt the applicability of the conception of libido held by him at that time. The sexual definition of this did not permit me to understand those disturbances of function, which affect the vague territory of the hunger instinct just as much as that of the sexual instinct. For a long time the theory of libido seemed to me inapplicable to dementia praecox. With increasing experience in analytical work, however, I became aware of a gradual change in my conception of libido. In place of the descriptive definition of the "Three Contributions" there gradually grew up a genetic definition of the libido, which rendered it possible for me to replace the expression "psychic energy" by the term "libido." I was forced to ask myself whether indeed the function of reality to-day does not consist only in its smaller part of libido sexualis and in the greater part of other impulses? It is still a very important question whether phylogenetically the function of reality is not, at least in great part, of sexual origin. To answer this question directly in regard to the function of reality is not possible, but we shall attempt to come to an understanding indirectly.

A fleeting glance at the history of evolution is sufficient to teach us that countless complicated functions to which to-day must be denied any sexual character were originally pure derivations from the general impulse of propagation. During the ascent through the animal kingdom an important displacement in the fundamentals of the procreative instinct has taken place. The mass of the reproductive products with the uncertainty of fertilization has more and more been replaced by a controlled impregnation and an effective protection of the offspring. In this way part of the energy required in the production of eggs and sperma has been transposed into the creation of mechanisms for allurement and for protection of the young. Thus we discover the first instincts of art in animals used in the service of the impulse of creation, and limited to the breeding season. The original sexual character of these biological institutions became lost in their organic fixation and functional independence. Even if there can be no doubt about the sexual origin of music, still it would be a poor, unaesthetic generalization if one were to include music in the category of sexuality. A similar nomenclature would then lead us to classify the cathedral of Cologne as mineralogy because it is built of stones. It can be a surprise only to those to whom the history of evolution is unknown to find how few things there really are in human life which cannot be reduced in the last analysis to the instinct of procreation. It includes very nearly everything, I think, which is beloved and dear to us. We spoke just now of libido as the creative impulse and at the same time we allied ourselves with the conception which opposes libido to hunger in the same way that the instinct of the preservation of the species is opposed to the instinct of self-preservation. In nature, this artificial distinction does not exist. Here we see only a continuous life impulse, a will to live which will attain the creation of the whole. species through the preservation of the individual. Thus far this conception coincides with the idea of the Will in Schopenhauer, for we can conceive Will objectively, only as a manifestation of an internal desire. This throwing of psychological perceptions into material reality is characterized philosophically as "introjection." (Ferenczi's conception of "introjection" denoted the reverse, that is, the taking of the outer world into the inner world.) [14] Naturally, the conception of the world was distorted by introjection. Freud's conception of the principle of desire is a voluntary formulation of the idea of introjection, while his once more voluntarily conceived "principle of reality" corresponds functionally to that which I designate as "corrective of reality," and R. Avenarius [15] designates as "empiriokritische Prinzipial-koordination." The conception of power owes its existence to this very introjection; this has already been said expressively by Galileo in his remark that its origin is to be sought in the subjective perception of the muscular power of the individual. Because we have already arrived at the daring assumption that the libido, which was employed originally in the exclusive service of egg and seed production, now appears firmly organized in the function of nest-building, and can no longer be employed otherwise; similarly this conception forces us to relate it to every desire, including hunger. For now we can no longer make any essential distinction between the will to build a nest and the will to eat. This view brings us to a conception of libido, which extends over the boundaries of the physical sciences into a philosophical aspect -- to a conception of the will in general. I must give this bit of psychological "Voluntarismus" into the hands of the philosophers for them to manage. For the rest I refer to the words of Schopenhauer [16] relating to this. In connection with the psychology of this conception (by which I understand neither metapsychology nor metaphysics) I am reminded here of the cosmogenic meaning of Eros in Plato and Hesiod, [17] and also of the orphic figure of Phanes, the "shining one," the first created, the " father of Eros." Phanes has also orphically the significance of Priapus; he is a god of love, bisexual and similar to the Theban Dionysus Lysios. [18] The orphic meaning of Phanes is similar to that of the Indian Kama, the god of love, which is also the cosmogenic principle. To Plotinus, of the Neo-Platonic school, the world-soul is the energy of the intellect. [19] Plotinus compares "The One," the creative primal principle, with light in general; the intellect with the Sun (Image), the world-soul with the moon (Image). In another comparison Plotinus compares "The One" with the Father, the intellect with the Son. [20] The "One" designated as Uranus is transcendent. The son as Kronos has dominion over the visible world. The world-soul (designated as Zeus) appears as subordinate to him. The "One," or the Usia of the whole existence is designated by Plotinus as hypostatic, also as the three forms of emanation, also Image. [i] As Drews observed, this is also the formula of the Christian Trinity (God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost) as it was decided upon at the councils of Nicea and Constantinople. [21] It may also be noticed that certain early Christian sectarians attributed a maternal significance to the Holy Ghost (world-soul, moon). (See what follows concerning Chi of Timaeus.) According to Plotinus, the world-soul has a tendency toward a divided existence and towards divisibility, the conditio sine qua non of all change, creation and procreation (also a maternal quality). It is an "unending all of life" and wholly energy; it is a living organism of ideas, which attain in it effectiveness and reality. [22] The intellect is its procreator, its father, which, having conceived it, brings it to development in thought. [23]

"What lies enclosed in the intellect, comes to development in the world-soul as logos, fills it with meaning and makes it as if intoxicated with nectar." [24]


Nectar is analogous to soma, the drink of fertility and of life, also to sperma. The soul is fructified by the intellect; as oversoul it is called heavenly Aphrodite, as the undersoul the earthly Aphrodite. "It knows the birth pangs," [25] and so on. The bird of Aphrodite, the dove, is not without good cause the symbol of the Holy Ghost.

This fragment of the history of philosophy, which may easily be enlarged, shows the significance of the endopsychic perception of the libido and of its symbolism in human thought.

In the diversity of natural phenomena we see the desire, the libido, in the most diverse applications and forms. We see the libido in the stage of childhood almost wholly occupied in the instinct of nutrition, which takes care of the upbuilding of the body. With the development of the body there are successively opened new spheres of application for the libido. The last sphere of application, and surpassing all the others in its functional significance, is sexuality, which seems at first almost bound up with the function of nutrition. ( Compare with this the influence on procreation of the conditions of nutrition in lower animals and plants.) In the territory of sexuality, the libido wins that formation, the enormous importance of which has justified us in the use of the term libido in general. Here the libido appears very properly as an impulse of procreation, and almost in the form of an undifferentiated sexual primal libido, as an energy of growth, which clearly forces the individual towards division, budding, etc. (The clearest distinction between the two forms of libido is to be found among those animals in whom the stage of nutrition is separated from the sexual stage by a chrysalis stage.)

From that sexual primal libido which produced millions of eggs and seeds from one small creature derivatives have been developed with the great limitation of the fecundity; derivatives in which the functions are maintained by a special differentiated libido. This differentiated libido is henceforth desexualized because it is dissociated from its original function of egg and sperma production; nor is there any possibility of restoring it to its original function. Thus, in general, the process of development consists in an increasing transformation of the primal libido which only produced products of generation to the secondary functions of allurement and protection of the young. This now presupposes a very different and very complicated relation to reality, a true function of reality, which, functionally inseparable, is bound up with the needs of procreation. Thus the altered mode of procreation carries with it as a correlate a correspondingly heightened adaptation to reality. [26]

In this way we attain an insight into certain primitive conditions of the function of reality. It would be radically wrong to say that its compelling power is a sexual one. It was a sexual one to a large extent. The process of transformation of the primal libido into secondary impulses always took place in the form of affluxes of sexual libido, that is to say, sexuality became deflected from its original destination and a portion of it turned, little by little, increasing in amount, into the phylogenetic impulse of the mechanisms of allurement and of protection of the young. This diversion of the sexual libido from the sexual territory into associated functions is still taking place. [27] Where this operation succeeds without injury to the adaptation of the individual it is called sublimation. Where the attempt does not succeed it is called repression.

The descriptive standpoint of psychology accepts the multiplicity of instincts, among which is the sexual instinct, as a special phenomenon; moreover, it recognizes certain affluxes of libido to non-sexual instincts.

Quite otherwise is the genetic standpoint. It regards the multiplicity of instincts as issuing from a relative unity, the primal libido; [28] it recognizes that definite amounts of the primal libido are split off, as it were, associated with the newly formed functions and finally merged in them. As a result of this it is impossible, from the genetic standpoint, to hold to the strictly limited conception of libido of the descriptive standpoint; it leads inevitably to a broadening of the conception. With this we come to the theory of libido that I have surreptitiously introduced into the first part of this work for the purpose of making this genetic conception familiar to the reader. The explanation of this harmless deceit I have saved until the second part.

For the first time, through this genetic idea of libido, which in every way surpasses the descriptive sexual, the transference was made possible of the Freudian libido theory into the psychology of mental disease. The passage quoted above shows how the present Freudian conception of libido collides with the problem of the psychoses. [29] Therefore, when I speak of libido, I associate with it the genetic conception which contains not only the immediate sexual but also an amount of desexualized primal libido. When I say a sick person takes his libido away from the outer world, in order to take possession of the inner world with it, I do not mean that he takes away merely the affluxes from the function of reality, but he takes energy away, according to my view, from those desexualized instincts which regularly and properly support the function of reality.

With this alteration in the libido conception, certain parts of our terminology need revision as well. As we know, Abraham has undertaken the experiment of transferring the Freudian libido theory to dementia praecox and has conceived the characteristic lack of rapport and the cessation of the function of reality as autoerotism. This conception needs revision. Hysterical introversion of the libido leads to autoerotism, since the patient's erotic afflux of libido designed for the function of adaptation is introverted, whereby his ego is occupied by the corresponding amount of erotic libido. The schizophrenic, however, shuns reality far more than merely the erotic afflux would account for; therefore, his inner condition is very different from that of the hysteric. He is more than autoerotic, he builds up an intra-psychic equivalent for reality, for which purpose he has necessarily to employ other dynamics than that afforded by the erotic afflux. Therefore, I must grant to Bleuler the right to reject the conception of autoerotism, taken from the study of hysterical neuroses, and there legitimate, and to replace it by the conception of autismus. [30] I am forced to say that this term is better fitted to facts than autoerotism. With this I acknowledge my earlier idea of the identity of autismus (Bleuler) and autoerotism (Freud) as unjustified, and, therefore, retract it. [31] This thorough revision of the conception of libido has compelled me to this. From these considerations it follows necessarily that the descriptive psychologic conception of libido must be given up in order for the libido theory to be applied to dementia praecox. That it is there applicable is best shown in Freud's brilliant investigation of Schreber's phantasies. The question now is whether this genetic conception of libido proposed by me is suitable for the neuroses. I believe that this question may be answered affirmatively. "Natura non fecit saltum"-- it is not merely to be expected but it is also probable that at least temporary functional disturbances of various degrees appear in the neuroses, which transcend the boundaries of the immediate sexual; in any case, this occurs in psychotic episodes. I consider the broadening of the conception of libido which has developed through the most recent analytic work as a real advance which will prove of especial advantage in the important field of the introversion psychoses. Proofs of the correctness of my assumption are already at hand. It has become apparent through a series of researches of the Zurich School, which are now published in part, [32] that the phantastic substitution products which take the place of the disturbed function of reality bear unmistakable traces of archaic thought. This confirmation is parallel to the postulate asserted above, according to which reality is deprived, not merely of an immediate (individual) amount of libido, but also of an already differentiated or desexualized quantity of libido, which, among normal people, has belonged to the function of reality ever since prehistoric times. A dropping away of the last acquisition of the function of reality (or adaptation) must of necessity be replaced by an earlier mode of adaptation. We find this principle already in the doctrines of the neuroses, that is, that a repression resulting from the failure of the recent transference is replaced by an old way of transference, namely, through a regressive revival of the parent imago. In the transference neurosis (hysterical), where merely a part of the immediate sexual libido is taken away from reality by the specific sexual repression, the substituted product is a phantasy of individual origin and significance, with only a trace of those archaic traits found in the phantasies of those mental disorders in which a portion of the general human function of reality organized since antiquity has broken off. This portion can be replaced only by a generally valid archaic surrogate. We owe a simple and clear example of this proposition to the investigation of Honegger. [33] A paranoic of good intelligence who has a clear idea of the spherical form of the earth and its rotation around the sun replaces the modern astronomical views by a system worked out in great detail, which one must call archaic, in which the earth is a flat disc over which the sun travels. [34] (I am reminded of the sun-phallus mentioned in the first part of this book, for which we are also indebted to Honegger.) Spielrein has likewise furnished some very interesting examples of archaic definitions which begin in certain illnesses to overlay the real meanings of the modern word. For example, Spielrein's patient had correctly discovered the mythological significance of alcohol, the intoxicating drink, to be " an effusion of seed." [35] She also had a symbolism of boiling which I must place parallel to the especially important alchemistic vision of Zosimos, [36] who found people in boiling water within the cavity of the altar. [37] This patient used earth in place of mother, and also water to express mother. [38] I refrain from further examples because future work of the Zurich School will furnish abundant evidence of this sort.

***

My foregoing proposition of the replacement of the disturbed function of reality by an archaic surrogate is supported by an excellent paradox of Spielrein's. She says: "I often had the illusion that these patients might be simply victims of a folk superstition." As a matter of fact, patients substitute phantasies for reality, phantasies similar to the actually incorrect mental products of the past, which, however, were once the view of reality. As the Zosimos vision shows, the old superstitions were symbols [39] which permitted transitions to the most remote territory. This must have been very expedient for certain archaic periods, for by this means convenient bridges were offered to lead a partial amount of libido over into the mental realm. Evidently Spielrein thinks of a similar biological meaning of the symbols when she says: [40]

"Thus a symbol seems to me to owe its origin in general to the tendency of a complex for dissolution in the common totality of thought. . . . The complex is robbed by that of the personal element. . . . This tendency towards dissolution (transformation) of every individual complex is the motive for poetry, painting, for every sort of art."


When here we replace the formal conception "complex" by the conception of the quantity of libido (the total effect of the complex) , which, from the standpoint of the libido theory, is a justified measure, then does Spielrein's view easily agree with mine. When primitive man understands in general what an act of generation is, then, according to the principle of the path of least resistance, he never can arrive at the idea of replacing the generative organs by a sword-blade or a shuttle; but this is the case with certain Indians, who explain the origin of mankind by the union of the two transference symbols. He then must be compelled to devise an analogous thing in order to bring a manifest sexual interest upon an asexual expression. The propelling motive of this transition of the immediate sexual libido to the non-sexual representation can, in my opinion, be found only in a resistance which opposes primitive sexuality.

It appears as if, by this means of phantastic analogy formation, more libido would gradually become desexualized, because increasingly more phantasy correlates were put in the place of the primitive achievement of the sexual libido. With this an enormous broadening of the world idea was gradually developed because new objects were always assimilated as sexual symbols. It is a question whether the human consciousness has not been brought to its present state entirely or in great part in this manner. It is evident, in any case, that an important significance in the development of the human mind is due to the impulse towards the discovery of analogy. We must agree thoroughly with Steinthal when he says that an absolutely overweening importance must be granted to the little phrase "Gleich wie" (even as) in the history of the development of thought. It is easy to believe that the carryover of the libido to a phantastic correlate has led primitive man to a number of the most important discoveries.

_______________

Notes:

i. One substance in three forms.
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

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Chapter 3: The Transformation of the Libido: A Possible Source of Primitive Human Discoveries

An example of transition of the libido -- Act of boring with forefinger: an infantile presexual activity -- Similar activities in patient's early childhood -- Outcome in dementia praecox -- Its phantasies related to mythological products: a reproduction of the creations of antiquity -- The freeing of libido from the nutritive to enter the sexual function -- The epoch of suckling and the epoch of displaced rhythmic activity -- These followed by the beginnings of onanistic attempts -- An obstacle in the sexual zone produces regression to a previous mode -- These regressions easier in earlier stages of humanity than now -- The ethnological phantasy of boring -- Examples -- The production of fire -- Its sexual significance -- A substitute for coitus -- The invention of fire-making then due to the need of supplying a symbol for the sexual act -- The psychological compulsion for such transitions of the libido based on an original division of the will -- Regression to incestuous -- Prohibition here sends incestuous component of libido back to pre-sexual -- Character of its application here -- The substitution of Mother-Earth for the parent -- Also of infantile boring -- Leading then to discovery of fire -- An example in Hindoo literature -- The sexual significance of the mouth -- Its other function: the mating call -- The regression which produced fire through boring also elaborated the mating call -- The beginnings of speech -- Example from the Hindoo -- Speech and fire the first-fruits of transformation of libido -- The fire-preparation regarded as forbidden, as robbery -- The forbidden thing onanism -- Onanism a cheating of sexuality of its purpose -- The ceremonial fire-production a substitute for the possibility of onanistic regression -- Thus a transformation of libido ensues.

IN the following pages I will endeavor to picture a concrete example of the transition of the libido. I once treated a patient who suffered from a depressive catatonic condition. The case was one of only a slight introversion psychosis; therefore, the existence of many hysterical features was not surprising. In the beginning of the analytic treatment, while telling of a very painful occurrence she fell into a hysterical-dreamy state, in which she showed all signs of sexual excitement. For obvious reasons she lost the knowledge of my presence during this condition. The excitement led to a masturbative act (frictio femorum). This act was accompanied by a peculiar gesture. She made a very violent rotary motion with the forefinger of the left hand on the left temple, as if she were boring a hole there. Afterwards there was complete amnesia for what had happened, and there was nothing to be learned about the queer gesture with her hand. Although this act can easily be likened to a boring into the mouth, nose or ear, now transferred to the temple, it belongs in the territory of infantile ludus sexualis [1] -- to the preliminary exercise preparatory to sexual activity. Without really understanding it, this gesture, nevertheless, seemed very important to me. Many weeks later I had an opportunity to speak to the patient's mother, and from her I learned that her daughter had been a very exceptional child. When only two years old she would sit with her back to an open cupboard door for hours and rhythmically beat her head against the door -- [2] to the distraction of the household. A little later, instead of playing as other children, she began to bore a hole with her finger in the plaster of the wall of the house. She did this with little turning and scraping movements, and kept herself busy at this occupation for hours. She was a complete puzzle to her parents. From her fourth year she practised onanism. It is evident that in this early infantile activity the preliminary stage of the later trouble may be found. The especially remarkable features in this case are, first, that the child did not carry out the action on its own body, and, secondly, the assiduity with which it carried on the action. [3] One is tempted to bring these two facts into a causal relationship and to say, because the child does not accomplish this action on her own body, perhaps that is the reason of the assiduity, for by boring into the wall she never arrives at the same satisfaction as if she executed the activity onanistically on her own body.

The very evident onanistic boring of the patient can be traced back to a very early stage of childhood, which is prior to the period of local onanism. That time is still psychologically very obscure, because individual reproductions and memories are lacking to a great extent, the same as among animals. The race characteristics (manner of life) predominate during the entire life of the animal, whereas among men the individual character asserts itself over the race type. Granting the correctness of this remark, we are struck with the apparently wholly incomprehensible individual activity of this child at this early age. We learn from her later life history that her development, which is, as is always the case, intimately interwoven with parallel external events, has led to that mental disturbance which is especially well known on account of its individuality and the originality of its productions, i. e. dementia praecox. The peculiarity of this disturbance, as we have pointed out above, depends upon the predominance of the phantastic form of thought -- of the infantile in general. From this type of thinking proceed all those numerous contacts with mythological products, and that which we consider as original and wholly individual creations are very often creations which are comparable with nothing but those of antiquity. I believe that this comparison can be applied to all formations of this remarkable illness, and perhaps also to this special symptom of boring. We have already seen that the onanistic boring of the patient dated from a very early stage of childhood, that is to say, it was reproduced from that period of the past. The sick woman fell back for the first time into the early onanism only after she had been married many years, and following the death of her child, with whom she had identified herself through an overindulgent love. When the child died the still healthy mother was overcome by early infantile symptoms in the form of scarcely concealed fits of masturbation, which were associated with this very act of boring. As already observed, the primary boring appeared at a time which preceded the infantile onanism localized in the genitals. This fact is of significance in so far as this boring differs thereby from a similar later practice which appeared after the genital onanism. The later bad habits represent, as a rule, a substitution for repressed genital masturbation, or for an attempt in this direction. As such these habits (finger-sucking, biting the nails, picking at things, boring into the ears and nose, etc.) may persist far into adult life as regular symptoms of a repressed amount of libido.

As has already been shown above, the libido in youthful individuals at first manifests itself in the nutritional zone, when food is taken in the act of suckling with rhythmic movements and with every sign of satisfaction. With the growth of the individual and the development of his organs the libido creates for itself new avenues to supply its need of activity and satisfaction. The primary model of rhythmic activity, producing pleasure and satisfaction, must now be transferred to the zone of other functions, with sexuality as its final goal. A considerable part of the "hunger libido" is transferred into the "sexual libido." This transition does not take place suddenly at the time of puberty, as is generally supposed, but very gradually in the course of the greater part of childhood. The libido can free itself only with difficulty and very slowly from that which is peculiar to the function of nutrition, in order to enter into the peculiarity of the sexual function. Two periods are to be distinguished in this state of transition, so far as I can judge -- the epoch of suckling and the epoch of the displaced rhythmic activity. Suckling still belongs to the function of nutrition, but passes beyond it, however, in that it is no longer the function of nutrition, but rhythmic activity, with pleasure and satisfaction as a goal, without the taking of nourishment. Here the hand enters as an auxiliary organ. In the period of the displaced rhythmic activity the hand appears still more clearly as an auxiliary organ; the gaining of pleasure leaves the mouth zone and turns to other regions. The possibilities are now many. As a rule, other openings of the body become the objects of the libido interest; then the skin, and special portions of that. The activity expressed in these parts, which can appear as rubbing, boring, picking, and so on, follows a certain rhythm and serves to produce pleasure. After longer or shorter tarryings of the libido at these stations, it passes onward until it reaches the sexual zone, and there, for the first time, can be occasion for the beginning of onanistic attempts. In its migration the libido takes more than a little of the function of nutrition with it into the sexual zone, which readily accounts for the numerous and innate correlations between the functions of nutrition and sexuality. If, after the occupation of the sexual zone, an obstacle arises against the present form of application of the libido, then there occurs, according to the well-known laws, a regression to the nearest station lying behind, to the two above-mentioned periods. It is now of special importance that the epoch of the displaced rhythmic activity coincides in a general way with the time of the development of the mind and of speech. I might designate the period from birth until the occupation of the sexual zone as the pre- sexual stage of development. This generally occurs between the third and fifth year, and is comparable to the chrysalis stage in butterflies. It is distinguished by the irregular commingling of the elements of nutrition and of sexual functions. Certain regressions follow directly back to the presexual stage, and, judging from my experience, this seems to be the rule in the regression of dementia praecox. I will give two brief examples. One case concerns a young girl who developed a catatonic state during her engagement. When she saw me for the first time, she came up suddenly, embraced me, and said, "Papa, give me something to eat." The other case concerns a young maidservant who complained that people pursued her with electricity and that this caused a queer feeling in her genitals, "as if it ate and drank down there."

These regressive phenomena show that even from the distance of the modern mind those early stages of the libido can be regressively reached. One may assume, therefore, that in the earliest states of human development this road was much more easily travelled than it is to-day. It becomes then a matter of great interest to learn whether traces of this have been preserved in history.

We owe our knowledge of the ethnologic phantasy of boring to the valuable work of Abraham, [4] who also refers us to the writings of Adalbert Kuhn. [5] Through this investigation we learn that Prometheus, the fire-bringer, may be a brother of the Hindoo Pramantha, that is to say, of the masculine fire-rubbing piece of wood. The Hindoo fire-bringer is called Matarigvan, and the activity of the fire preparation is always designated in the hieratic text by the verb "manthami," [6] which means shaking, rubbing, bringing forth by rubbing. Kuhn has put this verb in connection with the Greek Image , which means "to learn," and has explained this conceptual relationship. [7] The "tertium comparationis" might lie in the rhythm, the movement to and fro in the mind. According to Kuhn, the root "manth" or "math" must be traced from Image to Image to Image [i ] who is the Greek fire-robber. Through an unauthorized Sanskrit word "pramathyus," which comes by way of "pramantha," and which possesses the double meaning of "Rubber" and "Robber," the transition to Prometheus was effected. With that, however, the prefix "pra" caused special difficulty, so that the whole derivation was doubted by a series of authors, and was held, in part, as erroneous. On the other hand, it was pointed out that as the Thuric Zeus bore the especially interesting cognomen Image, thus Image might not be an original Indo-Germanic stem word that was related to the Sanskrit "pramantha," but might represent only a cognomen. This interpretation is supported by a gloss of Hesychius, Image Image . [ii] Another gloss of Hesychius explains Image as Image , through which Image attains the meaning of "the flaming one," analogous to Image or Image . [8] The relation of Prometheus to pramantha could scarcely be so direct as Kuhn conjectures. The question of an indirect relation is not decided with that. Above all, Image is of great significance as a surname for Image , since the "flaming one" is the "fore-thinker." (Pramati = precaution is also an attribute of Agni, although pramati is of another derivation.) Prometheus, however, belongs to the line of Phlegians which was placed by Kuhn in uncontested relationship to the Indian priest family of Bhrgu. [9] The Bhrgu are like Matarigvan (the "one swelling in the mother"), also fire-bringers. Kuhn quotes a passage, according to which Bhrgu also arises from the flame like Agni. ("In the flame Bhrgu originated. Bhrgu roasted, but did not burn.") This view leads to a root related to Bhrgu, that is to say, to the Sanskrit bhray = to light, Latin fulgeo and Greek Image (Sanskrit bhargas = splendor, Latin fulgur). Bhrgu appears, therefore, as "the shining one." Image means a certain species of eagle, on account of its burnished gold color. The connection withImage , which signifies "to burn," is clear. The Phlegians are also the fire eagles. [10] Prometheus also belongs to the Phlegians. The path from Pramantha to Prometheus passes not through the word, but through the idea, and, therefore, we should adopt this same meaning for Prometheus as that which Pramantha attains from the Hindoo fire symbolism. [11]

The Pramantha, as the tool of Manthana (the fire sacrifice), is considered purely sexual in the Hindoo; the Pramantha as phallus, or man; the bored wood underneath as vulva, or woman. [12] The resulting fire is the child, the divine son Agni. The two pieces of wood are called in the cult Pururavas and Urvagi, and were thought of personified as man and woman. The fire was born from the genitals of the woman. [13]An especially interesting representation of fire production, as a religious ceremony (manthana), is given by Weber: [14]

"A certain sacrificial fire was lit by the rubbing together of two sticks; one piece of wood is taken up with the words: 'Thou art the birthplace of the fire, and two blades of grass are placed upon it; 'Ye are the two testicles,' to the 'adhararani ' (the underlying wood): 'Thou art Urvai'; then the utararani (that which is placed on top) is anointed with butter. 'Thou art Power.' This is then placed on the adhararani. 'Thou art Pururavas' and both are rubbed three times. 'I rub thee with the Gayatrimetrum: I rub thee with the Trishtubhmetrum: I rub thee with the Jagatimetrum.'"


The sexual symbolism of this fire production is unmistakable. We see here also the rhythm, the metre in its original place as sexual rhythm, rising above the mating call into music. A song of the Rigveda [15] conveys the same interpretation and symbolism:

"Here is the gear for function, here tinder made ready for the spark.

Bring thou the matron: [16] we will rub Agni in ancient fashion forth.

In the two fire-sticks Jatavedas lieth, even as the well-formed germ in pregnant women;

Agni who day by day must be exalted by men who watch and worship with oblations;

Lay this with care on that which lies extended: straight hath she borne the steer when made prolific.

With his red pillar -- radiant in his splendor -- in our skilled task is born the son of Ila." [17] Book III. xxix: 1-3.


Side by side with the unequivocal coitus symbolism we see that the Pramantha is also Agni, the created son. The Phallus is the son, or the son is the Phallus. Therefore, Agni in the Vedic mythology has the threefold character. With this we are once more connected with the above-mentioned Cabiric Father-Son-Cult. In the modern German language we have preserved echoes of the primitive symbols. A boy is designated as "bengel" (short, thick piece of wood) . In Hessian as "stift" or "bolzen" (arrow, [18] wooden peg or stump). The Artemisia Abrotanum, which is called in German "Stabwurz" (stick root), is called in English "Boy's Love." (The vulgar designation of the penis as " boy " was remarked even by Grimm and others.) The ceremonial production of fire was retained in Europe as late as the nineteenth century as a superstitious custom. Kuhn mentions such a case even in the year 1828, which occurred in Germany. The solemn, magic ceremony was called the "Nodfyr" -- "The fire of need " [19] -- and the charm was chiefly used against cattle epidemics. Kuhn cites from the chronicle of Lanercost of the year 1268 an especially noteworthy case of the "Nodfyr," [20] the ceremonies of which plainly reveal the fundamental phallic meaning:

"Pro fidei divinae integritate servanda recolat lector, quod cum hoc anno in Laodonia pestis grassaretur in pecudes armenti, quam vocant usetati Lungessouht, quidam bestiales, habitu claustrales non animo, docebant idiotas patriae ignem confrictione de lignis educere et simulacrum Priapi statuere, et per haec bestiis succur rere. Quod cum unus laicus Cisterciensis apud Fentone fecisset ante atrium aulae, ac intinctis testiculis canis in aquam benedictam super animalis sparsisset, etc." [iii]


These examples, which allow us to recognize a clear sexual symbolism in the generation of fire, prove, therefore, since they originate from different times and different peoples, the existence of a universal tendency to credit to fire production not only a magical but also a sexual significance. This ceremonial or magic repetition of this very ancient, long-outlived observance shows how insistently the human mind clings to the old forms, and how deeply rooted is this very ancient reminiscence of fire boring. One might almost be inclined to see in the sexual symbolism of fire production a relatively late addition to the priestly lore. This may, indeed, be true for the ceremonial elaboration of the fire mysteries, but whether originally the generation of fire was in general a sexual action, that is to say, a "coitus-play," is still a question. That similar things occur among very primitive people we learn from the Australian tribe of the Watschandies, [21] who in the spring perform the following magic ceremonies of fertilization: They dig a hole in the ground, so formed and surrounded with bushes as to counterfeit a woman's genitals. They dance the night long around this hole; in connection with this they hold spears in front of themselves in a manner to recall the penis in erection. They dance around the hole and thrust their spears into the ditch, while they cry to it, "Pulli nira, pulli nira, wataka!" (non fossa, non fossa, sed cunnus!) Such obscene dances appear among other primitive races as well. [22]

In this spring incantation are contained the elements of the coitus play. [23] This play is nothing but a coitus game, that is to say, originally this play was simply a coitus in the form of sacramental mating, which for a long time was a mysterious element among certain cults, and reappeared in sects. [24] In the ceremonies of Zinzendorf's followers echoes of the coitus sacrament may be recognized; also in other sects.

One can easily think that just as the above-mentioned Australian bushmen perform the coitus play in this manner the same performance could be enacted in another manner, and, indeed, in the form of fire production. Instead of through two selected human beings, the coitus was represented by two substitutes, by Pururavas and Urvaci, by Phallus and Vulva, by borer and opening. Just as the primitive thought behind other customs is really the sacramental coition so here the primal tendency is really the act itself. For the act of fertilization is the climax -- the true festival of life, and well worthy to become the nucleus of a religious mystery. If we are justified in concluding that the symbolism of the hole in the earth used by the Watschandies for the fertilization of the earth takes the place of the coitus, then the generation of fire could be considered in the same way as a substitute for coitus ; and, indeed, it might be further concluded as a consequence of this reasoning that the invention of fire-making is also due to the need of supplying a symbol for the sexual act. [25]

Let us return, for a moment, to the infantile symptom of boring. Let us imagine a strong adult man carrying on the boring with two pieces of wood with the same perseverance and the energy corresponding to that of this child. He may very easily create fire by this play. But of greatest significance in this work is the rhythm. [26] This hypothesis seems to me psychologically possible, although it should not be said with this that only in this way could the discovery of fire occur. It can result just as well by the striking together of flints. It is scarcely possible that fire was created in only one way. All I want to establish here is merely the psychologic process, the symbolic indications of which point to the possibility that in such a way was fire invented or prepared.

The existence of the primitive coitus play or rite seems to me sufficiently proven. The only thing that is obscure is the energy and emphasis of the ritual play. It is well known that those primitive rites were often of very bloody seriousness, and were performed with an extraordinary display of energy, which appears as a great contrast to the well-known indolence of primitive humanity. Therefore, the ritual activity entirely loses the character of play, and wins that of purposeful effort. If certain Negro races can dance the whole night long to three tones in the most monotonous manner, then, according to our idea, there is in this an absolute lack of the character of play pastime; it approaches nearer to exercise. There seems to exist a sort of compulsion to transfer the libido into such ritual activity. If the basis of the ritual activity is the sexual act, we may assume that it is really the underlying thought and object of the exercise. Under these circumstances, the question arises why the primitive man endeavors to represent the sexual act symbolically and with effort, or, if this wording appears to be too hypothetical, why does he exert energy to such a degree only to accomplish practically useless things, which apparently do not especially amuse him? [27] It may be assumed that the sexual act is more desirable to primitive man than such absurd and, moreover, fatiguing exercises. It is hardly possible but that a certain compulsion conducts the energy away from the original object and real purpose, inducing the production of surrogates. The existence of a phallic or orgiastic cult does not indicate eo ipso a particularly lascivious life any more than the ascetic symbolism of Christianity means an especially moral life. One honors that which one does not possess or that which one is not. This compulsion, to speak in the nomenclature formulated above, removes a certain amount of libido from the real sexual activity, and creates a symbolic and practically valid substitute for what is lost This psychology is confirmed by the above-mentioned Watschandie ceremony; during the entire ceremony none of the men may look at a woman. This detail again informs us from whence the libido is to be diverted. But this gives rise to the pressing question, Whence comes this compulsion? We have already suggested above that the primitive sexuality encounters a resistance which leads to a side-tracking of the libido on to substitution actions (analogy, symbolism, etc.). It is unthinkable that it is a question of any outer opposition whatsoever, or of a real obstacle, since it occurs to no savage to catch his elusive quarry with ritual charms; but it is a question of an internal resistance; will opposes will; libido opposes libido, since a psychologic resistance as an energic phenomenon corresponds to a certain amount of libido. The psychologic compulsion for the transformation of the libido is based on an original division of the will. I will return to this primal splitting of the libido in another place. Here let us concern ourselves only with the problem of the transition of the libido. The transition takes place, as has been repeatedly suggested by means of shifting to an analogy. The libido is taken away from its proper place and transferred to another substratum.

The resistance against sexuality aims, therefore, at preventing the sexual act; it also seeks to crowd the libido away from the sexual function. We see, for example, in hysteria, how the specific repression blocks the real path of transference; therefore, the libido is obliged to take another path, and that an earlier one, namely, the incestuous road which ultimately leads to the parents. Let us speak, however, of the incest prohibition, which hindered the very first sexual transference. Then the situation changes in so far that no earlier way of transference is left, except that of the presexual stage of development, where the libido was still partly in the function of nutrition. By a regression to the presexual material the libido becomes quasi-desexualized. But as the incest prohibition signifies only a temporary and conditional restriction of the sexuality, thus only that part of the libido which is best designated as the incestuous component is now pushed back to the presexual stage. The repression, therefore, concerns only that part of the sexual libido which wishes to fix itself permanently upon the parents. The sexual libido is only withdrawn from the incestuous component, repressed upon the presexual stage, and there, if the operation is successful, desexualized, by which this amount of libido is prepared for an asexual application. However, it is to be assumed that this operation is accomplished only with difficulty, because the incestuous libido, so to speak, must be artificially separated from the sexual libido, with which, for ages, through the whole animal kingdom, it was indistinguishably united. The regression of the incestuous component must, therefore, take place, not only with great difficulty, but also carry with it into the presexual stage a considerable sexual character. The consequence of this is that the resulting phenomena, although stamped with the character of the sexual act, are, nevertheless, not really sexual acts de facto; they are derived from the presexual stage, and are maintained by the repressed sexual libido, therefore possess a double significance. Thus the fire boring is a coitus (and, to be sure, an incestuous one), but a desexualized one, which has lost its immediate sexual worth, and is, therefore, indirectly useful to the propagation of the species. The presexual stage is characterized by countless possibilities of application, because the libido has not yet formed definite localizations. It therefore appears intelligible that an amount of libido which reaches this stage through regression is confronted with manifold possibilities of application. Above all, it is met with the possibility of a purely onanistic activity. But as the matter in question in the regressive component of libido is sexual libido, the ultimate object of which is propagation, therefore it goes to the external object (Parents); it will also introvert with this destination as its essential character. The result, therefore, is that the purely onanistic activity turns out to be insufficient, and another object must be sought for, which takes the place of the incest object. The nurturing mother earth represents the ideal example of such an object. The psychology of the pre- sexual stage contributes the nutrition component; the sexual libido the coitus idea. From this the ancient symbols of agriculture arise. In the work of agriculture hunger and incest intermingle. The ancient cults of mother earth and all the superstitions founded thereon saw in the cultivation of the earth the fertilization of the mother. The aim of the action is desexualized, however, for it is the fruit of the field and the nourishment contained therein. The regression resulting from the incest prohibition leads, in this case, to the new valuation of the mother; this time, however, not as a sexual object, but as a nourisher.

The discovery of fire seems to be due to a very similar regression to the pre-sexual stage, more particularly to the nearest stage of the displaced rhythmic manifestation. The libido, introverted from the incest prohibition (with the more detailed designation of the motor components of coitus), when it reaches the presexual stage, meets the related infantile boring, to which it now gives, in accordance with its realistic destination, an actual material. (Therefore the material is fittingly called "materia," as the object is the mother as above.) As I sought to show above, the action of the infantile boring requires only the strength and perseverance of an adult man and suitable "material" in order to generate fire. If this is so, it may be expected that analogous to our foregoing case of onanistic boring the generation of fire originally occurred as such an act of quasi-onanistic activity, objectively expressed. The demonstration of this can never be actually furnished, but it is thinkable that somewhere traces of this original onanistic preliminary exercise of fire production have been preserved. I have succeeded in finding a passage in a very old monument of Hindoo literature which contains this transition of the sexual libido through the onanistic phase in the preparation of fire. This passage is found in Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad: [28]

"In truth, he (Atman) [29] was as large as a woman and a man, when they embrace each other. This, his own self, he divided into two parts, out of which husband and wife were formed. [30] With her, he copulated; from this humanity sprang. She, how ever, pondered: 'How may he unite with me after he has created me from himself? Now I shall hide!' Then she became a cow; he, however, became a bull and mated with her. From that sprang the horned cattle. Then she became a mare; he, however, became a stallion; she became a she-ass; he, an ass, and mated with her. From these sprang the whole-hoofed animals. She became a goat; he became a buck; she became an ewe; he became a ram, and mated with her. Thus were created goats and sheep. Thus it happened that all that mates, even down to the ants, he created -- then he perceived: 'Truly I myself am Creation, for I have created the whole world!' Thereupon he rubbed his hands (held before the mouth) so that he brought forth fire from his mouth, as from the mother womb, and from his hands."


We meet here a peculiar myth of creation which requires a psychologic interpretation. In the beginning the libido was undifferentiated and bisexual; [31] this was followed by differentiation into a male and a female component. From then on man knows what he is. Now follows a gap in the coherence of the thought where belongs that very resistance which we have postulated above for the explanation of the urge for sublimation. Next follows the onanistic act of rubbing or boring (here finger-sucking) transferred from the sexual zone, from which proceeds the production of fire. [32] The libido here leaves its characteristic manifestation as sexual function and regresses to the presexual stage, where, in conformity with the above explanation, it occupies one of the preliminary stages of sexuality, thereby producing, in the view expressed in the Upanishad, the first human art, and from there, as suggested by Kuhn's idea of the root "manth," perhaps the higher intellectual activity in general. This course of development is not strange to the psychiatrist, for it is a well-known psychopathological fact that onanism and excessive activity of phantasy are very closely related. (The sexualizing-autonomizing of the mind through autoerotism [33] is so familiar a fact that examples of that are superfluous.) The course of the libido, as we may conclude from these studies, originally proceeded in a similar manner as in the child, only in a reversed sequence. The sexual act was pushed out of its proper zone and was transferred into the analogous mouth zone [34] -- the mouth receiving the significance of the female genitals; the hand and the fingers, respectively, receiving the phallic meaning. [35] In this manner the regressive preoccupied activity of the presexual stage is invested with the sexual significance, which, indeed, it already possessed, in part, before, but in a wholly different sense. Certain functions of the presexual stage are found to be permanently suitable, and, therefore, are retained later on as sexual functions. Thus, for example, the mouth zone is retained as of erotic importance, meaning that its valuation is permanently fixed. Concerning the mouth, we know that it also has a sexual meaning among animals, inasmuch as, for example, stallions bite mares in the sexual act; also, cats, cocks, etc. A second significance of the mouth is as an instrument of speech, it serves essentially in the production of the mating call, which mostly represents the developed tones of the animal kingdom. As to the hand, we know that it has the important significance of the contrectation organ (for example, among frogs). The frequent erotic use of the hand among monkeys is well known. If there exists a resistance against the real sexuality, then the accumulated libido is most likely to cause a hyperfunction of those collaterals which are most adapted to compensate for the resistance, that is to say, the nearest functions which serve for the introduction of the act; [36] on one side the function of the hand, on the other that of the mouth. The sexual act, however, against which the opposition is directed is replaced by a similar act of the presexual stage, the classic case being either finger-sucking or boring. Just as among apes the foot can on occasions take the place of the hand, so the child is often uncertain in the choice of the object to suck, and puts the big toe in the mouth instead of the finger. This last movement belongs to a Hindoo rite, only the big toe was not put in the mouth, but held against the eye. [37] Through the sexual significance of the hand and mouth these organs, which in the presexual stage served to obtain pleasure, are invested with a procreating power which is identical with the above-mentioned destination, which aims at the external object, because it concerns the sexual or creating libido. When, through the actual preparation of fire, the sexual character of the libido employed in that is fulfilled, then the mouth zone remains without adequate expression; only the hand has now reached its real, purely human goal in its first art.

The mouth has, as we saw, a further important function, which has just as much sexual relation to the object as the hand, that is to say, the production of the mating call. In opening up the autoerotic ring (hand-mouth), [38] where the phallic hand became the fire-producing tool, the libido which was directed to the mouth zone was obliged to seek another path of functioning, which naturally was found in the already existing love call. The excess of libido entering here must have had the usual results, namely, the stimulation of the newly possessed function; hence an elaboration of the mating call.

We know that from the primitive sounds human speech has developed. Corresponding to the psychological situation, it might be assumed that language owes its real origin to this moment, when the impulse, repressed into the presexual stage, turns to the external in order to find an equivalent object there. The real thought as a conscious activity is, as we saw in the first part of this book, a thinking with positive determination towards the external world, that is to say, a "speech thinking." This sort of thinking seems to have originated at that moment. It is very remarkable that this view, which was won by the path of reasoning, is again supported by old tradition and other mythological fragments.

In Aitareyopanishad [39] the following quotation is to be found in the doctrine of the development of man: "Being brooded-o'er, his mouth hatched out, like as an egg; from out his mouth (came) speech, from speech, the fire." In Part II, where it is depicted how the newly created objects entered man, it reads: u Fire, speech becoming, entered in the mouth." These quotations allow us to plainly recognize the intimate connection between fire and speech. [40] In Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad is to be found this passage:

"'Yaynavalkya,' thus he spake, 'when after the death of this man his speech entereth the fire, his breath into the wind, his eye into the sun, etc.'"


A further quotation from the Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad reads:

"But when the sun is set, O Yaynavalkya, and the moon has set, and the fire is extinguished, what then serves man as light? Then speech serves him as light; then, by the light of speech he sits, and moves, he carries on his work, and he returns home. But when the sun is set, O Yaynavalkya, and the moon is set, and the fire extinguished, and the voice is dumb, what then serves man as light? Then he serves himself (Atman) as light; then, by the light of himself, he sits and moves, carries on his work and returns home."


In this passage we notice that fire again stands in the closest relation to speech. Speech itself is called a "light," which, in its turn, is reduced to the "light" of the Atman, the creating psychic force, the libido. Thus the Hindoo metapsychology conceives speech and fire as emanations of the inner light from which we know that it is libido. Speech and fire are its forms of manifestation, the first human arts, which have resulted from its transformation. This common psychologic origin seems also to be indicated by certain results of philology. The Indo-Germanic root bha designates the idea of "to lighten, to shine." This root is found in Greek, Image Image [iv], in old Icelandic ban = white, in New High German bohnen = to make shining. The same root bha also designates "to speak"; it is found in Sanskrit bhan = to speak, Armenian ban = word, in New High German bann to banish, Greek Image [v] Latin fa-ri fanum.

The root bhelso, with the meanings "to ring, to bark," is found in Sanskrit bhas = to bark and bhas to talk, to speak; Lithuanian balsas = voice, tone. Really bhel-so = to be bright or luminous. Compare Greek Image = bright, Lithuanian balti = to become white, Middle High German blasz = pale.

The root la, with the meaning of "to make sound, to bark," is found in Sanskrit las, lasati = to resound; and las, lasati = to radiate, to shine.

The related root leso, with the meaning "desire," is also found in Sanskrit las, Idsati = to play; lash, lashati = to desire. Greek Xdcrravpo? = lustful, Gothic lustus, New High German Lust, Latin lascivus. A further related root, leao = to shine, to radiate, is found in las, lasati = to radiate, to shine.

This group unites, as is evident, the meanings of "to desire, to play, to radiate, and to sound." A similar archaic confluence of meanings in the primal libido symbolism (as we are perhaps justified in calling it) is found in that class of Egyptian words which are derived from the closely related roots ben and bel and the reduplication benben and belbel. The original significance of these roots is " to burst forth, to emerge, to extrude, to well out," with the associated idea of bubbling, boiling and roundness. Belbel, accompanied by the sign of the obelisk, of originally phallic nature, means source of light. The obelisk itself had besides the names of techenu and men also the name benben, more rarely berber and belbel. [41] The libido symbolism makes clear this connection, it seems to me.

The Indo-Germanic root vel, with the meaning "to wave, to undulate" (fire), is found in Sanskrit ulunka = burning, Greek Image , Attic Image = warmth of the sun, Gothic vulan = to undulate, Old High German and Middle High German walm = heat, glow.

The related Indo-Germanic root velko, with the meaning of "to lighten, to glow," is found in Sanskrit ulka = firebrand, Greek Image = Vulcan. This same root vel means also "to sound"; in Sanskrit vani = tone, song, music. Tschech volati = to call.

The root sveno = to sound, to ring, is found in Sanskrit svan, svanati = to rustle, to sound; Zend qanant, Latin sonare, Old Iranian senm, Cambrian sain, Latin sonus, Anglo-Saxon svinsian = to resound. The related root svenos = noise, sound, is found in Vedic svanas = noise, Latin sonor, sonorus. A further related root is svonos = tone, noise; in Old Iranian son = word.

The root sve (n), locative sveni, dative sunei, means sun; in Zend qeng = sun. (Compare above sveno, Zend qanant); Gothic sun-na, sunno. [42] Here Goethe has preceded us:

"The sun orb sings in emulation,
'Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round:
His path predestined through Creation,
He ends with step of thunder sound."
-- Faust. Part I.

"Hearken! Hark! the hours careering!
Sounding loud to spirit-hearing,
See the new-born Day appearing!
Rocky portals jarring shatter,
Phoebus' wheels in rolling clatter,
With a crash the Light draws near!
Pealing rays and trumpet-blazes,
Eye is blinded, ear amazes;
The Unheard can no one hear!
Slip within each blossom-bell,
Deeper, deeper, there to dwell, --
In the rocks, beneath the leaf!
If it strikes you, you are deaf."

-- Faust. Part II.


We also must not forget the beautiful verse of Holderlin:

"Where art thou? Drunken, my soul dreams
Of all thy rapture. Yet even now I hearken
As full of golden tones the radiant sun youth
Upon his heavenly lyre plays his even song
To the echoing woods and hills."


Just as in archaic speech fire and the speech sounds (the mating call, music) appear as forms of emanation of the libido, thus light and sound entering the psyche become one: libido.

Manilius expresses it in his beautiful verses:

"Quid mirum noscere mundum
Si possunt homines, quibus est et mundus in ipsis
Exemplumque dei quisque est in imagine parva?
An quoquam genitos nisi caelo credere fas est
Esse homines?
Stetit unus in arcem
Erectus capitis victorque ad sidera mittit sidereos oculos." [vi]


The idea of the Sanskrit tejas suggests the fundamental significance of the libido for the conception of the world in general. I am indebted to Dr. Abegg, in Zurich, a thorough Sanskrit scholar, for the compilation of the eight meanings of this word.

Tejas signifies:

1. Sharpness, cutting edge.
2. Fire, splendor, light, glow, heat.
3. Healthy appearance, beauty.
4. The fiery and color-producing power of the human organism (thought to be in the bile).
5. Power, energy, vital force.
6. Passionate nature.
7. Mental, also magic, strength; influence, position, dignity.
8. Sperma.


This gives us a dim idea of how, for primitive thought, the so-called objective world was, and had to be, a subjective image. To this thought must be applied the words of the "Chorus Mysticus":

"All that is perishable
Is only an allegory."


The Sanskrit word for fire is agnis (the Latin ignis); [43] the fire personified is the god Agni, the divine mediator, [44] whose symbol has certain points of contact with that of Christ. In Avesta and in the Vedas the fire is the messenger of the gods. In the Christian mythology certain parts are closely related with the myth of Agni. Daniel speaks of the three men in the fiery furnace:

"Then Nebuchadnezar, the King, was astonished, and rose up in haste and spake, and said unto his counsellors: 'Did not we cast three men bound into the midst of the fire?'

"They answered and said: 'True, O King!'

"He answered and said: 'Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.'"


In regard to that the "Biblia pauperum" observes (according to an old German incunabulum of 1471):

"One reads in the third chapter of the prophet Daniel that Nebuchadnezar, the King, caused three men to be placed in a glowing furnace and that the king often went there, looked in, and that he saw with the three, a fourth, who was like the Son of God. The three signify for us, the Holy Trinity and the fourth, the unity of the being. Christ, too, in His explanation designated the person of the Trinity and the unity of the being."


According to this mystic interpretation, the legend of the three men in the fiery furnace appears as a magic fire ceremony by means of which the Son of God reveals himself. The Trinity is brought together with the unity, or, in other words, through coitus a child is produced. The glowing furnace (like the glowing tripod in "Faust") is a mother symbol, where the children are produced. [45] The fourth in the fiery furnace appears as Christ, the Son of God, who has become a visible God in the fire. The mystic trinity and unity are sexual symbols. (Compare with that the many references in Inman: "Ancient Pagan and Modern Christian Symbolism.") It is said of the Saviour of Israel (the Messiah) and of his enemies, Isaiah x: 17:

"And the light of Israel shall be for a fire, and his Holy One for a flame."


In a hymn of the Syrian Ephrem it is said of Christ:

"Thou who art all fire, have mercy upon me."


Agni is the sacrificial flame, the sacrificer, and the sacrificed, as Christ himself. Just as Christ left behind his redeeming blood, Image [vii] in the stimulating wine, so Agni is the Soma, the holy drink of inspiration, the mead of immortality. [46] Soma and Fire are entirely identical in Hindoo literature, so that in Soma we easily rediscover the libido symbol, through which a series of apparently paradoxical qualities of the Soma are immediately explained. As the old Hindoos recognized in fire an emanation of the inner libido fire, so too they recognized, in the intoxicating drink (Firewater, Soma-Agni, as rain and fire), an emanation of libido. The Vedic definition of Soma as seminal fluid confirms this interpretation. [47] The Soma significance of fire, similar to the significance of the body of Christ in the Last Supper (compare the Passover lamb of the Jews, baked in the form of a cross), is explained by the psychology of the presexual stage, where the libido was still in part the function of nutrition. The "Soma" is the "nourishing drink," the mythological characterization of which runs parallel to fire in its origin; therefore, both are united in Agni. The drink of immortality was stirred by the Hindoo gods like fire. Through the retreat of the libido into the presexual stage it becomes clear why so many gods were either defined sexually or were devoured.

As was shown by our discussion of fire preparation, the fire tool did not receive its sexual significance as a later addition, but the sexual libido was the motor power which led to its discovery, so that the later teachings of the priests were nothing but confirmations of its actual origin. Other primitive discoveries probably have acquired their sexual symbolism in the same manner, being also derived from the sexual libido.

In the previous statements, which were based on the Pramantha of the Agni sacrifice, we have concerned ourselves only with one significance of the word manthami or mathnami, that is to say, with that which expresses the movement of rubbing. As Kuhn shows, however, this word also possesses the meaning of tearing off, taking away by violence, robbing. [48] As Kuhn points out, this significance is already extant in the Vedic text. The legend of its discovery always expresses the production of fire as a robbery. (In this far it belongs to the motive widely spread over the earth of the treasure difficult to attain.) The fact that in many places and not alone in India the preparation of fire is represented as having its origin in robbery, seems to point to a widely spread thought, according to which the preparation of fire was something forbidden, something usurped or criminal, which could be obtained only through stratagem or deeds of violence (mostly through stratagem). [49] When onanism confronts the physician as a symptom it does so frequently under the symbol of secret pilfering, or crafty imposition, which always signifies the concealed fulfilment of a forbidden wish. [50] Historically, this train of thought probably implies that the ritual preparation of fire was employed with a magic purpose, and, therefore, was pursued by official religions; then it became a ritual mystery, [51] guarded by the priests and surrounded with secrecy. The ritual laws of the Hindoos threaten with severe punishment him who prepares fire in an incorrect manner. The fact alone that something is mysterious means the same as something done in concealment; that which must remain secret, which one may not see nor do; also something which is surrounded by severe punishment of body and soul; therefore, presumably, something forbidden which has received a license as a religious rite. After all has been said about the genesis of the preparation of fire, it is no longer difficult to guess what is the forbidden thing; it is onanism. When I stated before that it might be lack of satisfaction which breaks up the autoerotic ring of the displaced sexual activity transferred to the body itself, and thus opens wider fields of culture, I did not mention that this loosely closed ring of the displaced onanistic activity could be much more firmly closed, when man makes the other great discovery, that of true onanism. [52] With that the activity is started in the proper place, and this, under certain circumstances, may mean a satisfaction sufficient for a long time, but at the expense of cheating sexuality of its real purpose. It is a fraud upon the natural development of things, because all the dynamic forces which can and should serve the development of culture are withdrawn from it through onanism, since, instead of the displacement, a regression to the local sexual takes place, which is precisely the opposite of that which is desirable. Psychologically, however, onanism is a discovery of a significance not to be undervalued. One is protected from fate, since no sexual need then has the power to give one up to life. For with onanism one has the greatest magic in one's hands; one needs only to phantasy, and with that to masturbate, then one possesses all the pleasure of the world, and is no longer compelled to conquer the world of one's desires through hard labor and wrestling with reality. [53] Aladdin rubs his lamp and the obedient genii stand at his bidding; thus the fairy tale expresses the great psychologic advantage of the easy regression to the local sexual satisfaction. Aladdin's symbol subtly confirms the ambiguity of the magic fire preparation.

The close relation of the generation of fire to the onanistic act is illustrated by a case, the knowledge of which I owe to Dr. Schmid, in Cery, that of an imbecile peasant youth who set many incendiary fires. At one of these conflagrations he drew suspicion to himself by his behavior. He stood with his hands in his trouser pockets in the door of an opposite house and gazed with apparent delight at the fire. Under examination in the insane asylum, he described the fire in great detail, and made suspicious movements in his , trouser pockets with his hands. The physical examination undertaken at once showed that he had masturbated. Later he confessed that he had masturbated at the time when he had enjoyed the fire which he had enkindled himself.

The preparation of fire in itself is a perfectly ordinary useful custom, employed everywhere for many centuries, which in itself involved nothing more mysterious than eating and drinking. However, there was always a tendency from time to time to prepare fire in a ceremonious and mysterious manner (exactly as with ritual eating and drinking), which was to be carried out in an exactly prescribed way and from which no one dared differ. This mysterious tendency associated with the technique is the second path in the onanistic regression, always present by the side of culture. The strict rules applied to it, the zeal of the ceremonial preparations and the religious awe of the mysteries next originate from this source; the ceremonial, although apparently irrational, is an extremely ingenious institution from the psychologic standpoint, for it represents a substitute for the possibility of onanistic regression accurately circumscribed by law. The law cannot apply to the content of the ceremony, for it is really quite indifferent for the ritual act, whether it is carried out in this way or in that way. On the contrary, it is very essential whether the restrained libido is discharged through a sterile onanism or transposed into the path of sublimation. These severe measures of protection apply primarily to onanism. [54]

I am indebted to Freud for a further important reference to the onanistic nature of the fire theft, or rather the motive of the treasure difficult of attainment (to which fire theft belongs). Mythology contains repeated formulas which read approximately as follows: The treasure must be plucked or torn off from a taboo tree (Paradise tree, Hesperides) ; this is a forbidden and dangerous act. The clearest example of this is the old barbaric custom in the service of Diana of Aricia: only he can become a priest of the goddess who, in her sacred grove, dares to tear off ("abzureissen") a bough. The tearing off has been retained in vulgar speech (besides "abreiben," rubbing) as a symbol of the act of onanism. Thus "reiben," to rub, is like "reissen," to break off, both of which are contained in manthami and united apparently only through the myth of the fire theft bound up in the act of onanism in a deeper stratum wherein "reiben," properly speaking, "reissen," is employed, but in a transferred sense. Therefore, it might perhaps be anticipated that in the deepest stratum, namely, the incestuous, which precedes the autoerotic stage, [55] the two meanings coincide, which, through lack of mythological tradition, can perhaps be traced through etymology only.

________________

Notes:

i. I learn (that which is learned, knowledge; the act of learning), to take thought beforehand, to Prometheus (forethought).

ii. Prometheus, the herald of the Titans.

iii. Instead of preserving the divine faith in its purity, the reader will call to mind the fact that in this year when the plague, usually called Lung sickness, attacked the herds of cattle in Laodonia, certain bestial men, monks in dress but not in spirit, taught the ignorant people of their country to make fire by rubbing wood together and to set up a statue of Priapus, and by that method to succor the cattle. After a Cistercian lay brother had done this near Fentone, in front of the entrance of the "Court," he sprinkled the animals with holy water and with the preserved testicles of a dog, etc.

iv. To shine; to show forth; reveal; light.

v. I said; they said; a saying; an oracle.

vi. Why is it wonderful to understand the universe, if men are able? i.e., men in whose very being the universe exists and each one (of whom) is a representative of God in miniature? Or is it right to believe that men have sprung in any way except from heaven -- He alone stands in the midst of the citadel, a conqueror, his head erect and his shining eyes fixed on the stars.

vii. A potion of immortality.
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 4:01 am

Part 1 of 2

Chapter 4: The Unconscious Origin of the Hero

The cause of introversion -- The forward and backward flow of the libido -- The abnormal third -- The conflict rooted in the incest problem -- The "terrible mother" -- Miss Miller's introversion -- An internal conflict -- Its product of hypnagogic vision and poem -- The uniformity of the unconscious in all men -- The unconscious the object of a true psychology -- The individual tendency with its production of the hero cult -- The love for the hero or god a love for the unconscious -- A turning back to the mother of humanity -- Such regressions act favorably within limits -- Miss Miller's mention of the Sphinx -- Theriomorphic representations of the libido -- Their tendency to represent father and mother -- The Sphinx represents the fear of the mother -- Miss Miller's mention of the Aztec -- Analysis of this figure -- The significance of the hand symbolically -- The Aztec a substitute for the Sphinx -- The name Chi-wan-to-pel -- The connection of the anal region with veneration -- Chiwantopel and Ahasver, the Wandering Jew -- The parallel with Chidher -- Heroes generating themselves through their own mothers -- Analogy with the Sun -- Setting and rising sun: Mithra and Helios, Christ and Peter, Dhulqarnein and Chidher -- The fish symbol -- The two Dadophores: the two thieves -- The mortal and immortal parts of man -- The Trinity taken from phallic symbolism -- Comparison of libido with phallus -- Analysis of libido symbolism always leads back to the mother incest -- The hero myth the myth of our own suffering unconscious -- Faust.

PREPARED by the previous chapters, we approach the personification of the libido in the form of a conqueror, a hero or a demon. With this, symbolism leaves the impersonal and neuter realm, which characterizes the astral and meteorologic symbol, and takes human form: the figure of a being changing from sorrow to joy, from joy to sorrow, and which, like the sun, sometimes stands in its zenith, sometimes is plunged in darkest night, and arises from this very night to new splendor. [1] Just as the sun, guided by its own internal laws, ascends from morn till noon, and passing beyond the noon descends towards evening, leaving behind its splendor, and then sinks completely into the all-enveloping night, thus, too, does mankind follow his course according to immutable laws, and also sinks, after his course is completed, into night, in order to rise again in the morning to a new cycle in his children. The symbolic transition from sun to man is easy and practicable. The third and last creation of Miss Miller's also takes this course. She calls this piece "Chiwantopel," a "hypnagogic poem." She gives us the following information about the circumstances surrounding the origin of this phantasy:

"After an evening of care and anxiety, I lay down to sleep at about half past eleven. I felt excited and unable to sleep, although I was very tired. There was no light in the room. I closed my eyes, and then I had the feeling that something was about to happen. The sensation of a general relaxation came over me, and I remained as passive as possible. Lines appeared before my eyes, -- sparks and shining spirals, followed by a kaleidoscopic review of recent trivial occurrences."


The reader will regret with me that we cannot know the reason for her cares and anxieties. It would have been of great importance for what follows to have information on this point. This gap in our knowledge is the more to be deplored because, between the first poem in 1898 and the time of the phantasy here discussed (1902), four whole years have passed. All information is lacking regarding this period, during which the great problem surely survived in the unconscious. Perhaps this lack has its advantages in that our interest is not diverted from the universal applicability of the phantasy here produced by sympathy in regard to the personal fate of the author. Therefore, something is obviated which often prevents the analyst in his daily task from looking away from the tedious toil of detail to that wider relation which reveals each neurotic conflict to be involved with human fate as a whole.

The condition depicted by the author here corresponds to such a one as usually precedes an intentional somnambulism [2] often described by spiritualistic mediums. A certain inclination to listen to these low nocturnal voices must be assumed; otherwise such fine and hardly perceptible inner experiences pass unnoticed. We recognize in this listening a current of the libido leading inward and beginning to flow towards a still invisible, mysterious goal. It seems that the libido has suddenly discovered an object in the depths of the unconscious which powerfully attracts it. The life of man, turned wholly to the external by nature, does not ordinarily permit such introversion; there must, therefore, be surmised a certain exceptional condition, that is to say, a lack of external objects, which compels the individual to seek a substitute for them in his own soul. It is, however, difficult to imagine that this rich world has become too poor to offer an object for the love of human atoms; nor can the world and its objects be held accountable for this lack. It offers boundless opportunities for every one. It is rather the incapacity to love which robs mankind of his possibilities. This world is empty to him alone who does not understand how to direct his libido towards objects, and to render them alive and beautiful for himself, for Beauty does not indeed lie in things, but in the feeling that we give to them. That which compels us to create a substitute for ourselves is not the external lack of objects, but our incapacity to lovingly include a thing outside of ourselves. Certainly the difficulties of the conditions of life and the adversities of the struggle for existence may oppress us, yet even adverse external situations would not hinder the giving out of the libido; on the contrary, they may spur us on to the greatest exertions, whereby we bring our whole libido into reality. Real difficulties alone will never be able to force the libido back permanently to such a degree as to give rise, for example, to a neurosis. The conflict, which is the condition of every neurosis, is lacking. The resistance, which opposes its unwillingness to the will, alone has the power to produce that pathogenic introversion which is the starting point of every psychogenic disturbance. The resistance against loving produces the inability to love. Just as the normal libido is comparable to a steady stream which pours its waters broadly into the world of reality, so the resistance, dynamically considered, is comparable, not so much to a rock rearing up in the river bed which is flooded over or surrounded by the stream, as to a backward flow towards the source. A part of the soul desires the outer object; another part, however, harks back to the subjective world, where the airy and fragile palaces of phantasy beckon. One can assume the dualism of the human will for which Bleuler, from the psychiatric point of view, has coined the word "ambitendency" [3] as something generally present, bearing in mind that even the most primitive motor impulse is in opposition; as, for example, in the act of extension, the flexor muscles also become innervated. This normal ambitendency, however, never leads to an inhibition or prevention of the intended act, but is the indispensable preliminary requirement for its perfection and coordination. For a resistance disturbing to this act to arise from this harmony of finely attuned opposition an abnormal plus or minus would be needed on one or the other side. The resistance originates from this added third. [4] This applies also to the duality of the will, from which so many difficulties arise for mankind. The abnormal third frees the pair of opposites, which are normally most intimately united, and causes their manifestation in the form of separate tendencies; it is only thus that they become willingness and unwillingness, which interfere with each other. The Bhagavad-Gita says, "Be thou free of the pairs of opposites." [5] The harmony thus becomes disharmony. It cannot be my task here to investigate whence the unknown third arises, and what it is. Taken at the roots in the case of our patients, the "nuclear complex" (Freud) reveals itself as the incest problem. The sexual libido regressing to the parents appears as the incest tendency. The reason this path is so easily travelled is due to the enormous indolence of mankind, which will relinquish no object of the past, but will hold it fast forever. The "sacrilegious backward grasp" of which Nietzsche speaks reveals itself, stripped of its incest covering, as an original passive arrest of the libido in its first object of childhood. This indolence is also a passion, as La Rochefoucauld [6] has brilliantly expressed it:

"Of all passions, that which is least known to ourselves is indolence: it is the most ardent and malignant of them all, although its violence may be insensible, and the injuries it causes may be hidden; if we will consider its power attentively, we will see that it makes itself, upon all occasions, mistress of our sentiments, of our interests, and of our pleasures; it is the anchor, which has the power to arrest the largest vessels; it is a calm more dangerous to the most important affairs than rocks and the worst tempest. The repose of indolence is a secret charm of the soul which suddenly stops the most ardent pursuits and the firmest resolutions; finally to give the true idea of this passion, one must say that indolence is like a beatitude of the soul which consoles it for all its losses and takes the place of all its possessions."


This dangerous passion, belonging above all others to primitive man, appears under the hazardous mask of the incest symbol, from which the incest fear must drive us away, and which must be conquered, in the first place, under the image of the "terrible mother." [7] It is the mother of innumerable evils, not the least of which are neurotic troubles. For, especially from the fogs of the arrested remnants of the libido, arise the harmful phantasmagoria which so veil reality that adaptation becomes almost impossible. However, we will not investigate any further in this place the foundations of the incest phantasies. The preliminary suggestion of my purely psychologic conception of the incest problem may suffice. We are here only concerned with the question whether resistance which leads to introversion in our author signifies a conscious external difficulty or not. If it were an external difficulty, then, indeed, the libido would be violently dammed back, and would produce a flood of phantasies, which can best be designated as schemes, that is to say, plans as to how the obstacles could be overcome. They would be very concrete ideas of reality which seek to pave the way for solutions. It would be a strenuous meditation, indeed, which would be more likely to lead to anything rather than to a hypnagogic poem. The passive condition depicted above in no way fits in with a real external obstacle, but, precisely through its passive submission, it indicates a tendency which doubtless scorns real solutions and prefers phantastic substitutes. Ultimately and essentially we are, therefore, dealing with an internal conflict, perhaps after the manner of those earlier conflicts which led to the two first unconscious creations. We, therefore, are forced to conclude that the external object cannot be loved, because a predominant amount of libido prefers a phantastic object, which must be brought up from the depths of the unconscious as a compensation for the missing reality.

The visionary phenomena, produced in the first stages of introversion, are grouped among the well-known phenomena [8] of hypnagogic vision. They form, as I explained in an earlier paper, the foundation of the true visions of the symbolic autorevelations of the libido, as we may now express it.

Miss Miller continues:

"Then I had the impression that some communication was immediately impending. It seemed to me as if there were reechoed in me the words, 'Speak, O Lord, for Thy servant listens; open Thou mine ears!':


This passage very clearly describes the intention; the expression "communication" is even a current term in spiritualistic circles. The Biblical words contain a clear invocation or "prayer," that is to say, a wish (libido) directed towards divinity (the unconscious complex). The prayer refers to Samuel, i: 3, where Samuel at night was three times called by God, but believed that it was Eli calling, until the latter informed him that it was God himself who spoke, and that he must answer if his name was called again -- "Speak, O Lord, for Thy Servant hears!" The dreamer uses these words really in an inverse sense, namely, in order to produce God with them. With that she directs her desires, her libido, into the depths of her unconscious.

We know that, although individuals are widely separated by the differences in the contents of their consciousness, they are closely alike in their unconscious psychology. It is a significant impression for one working in practical psychoanalysis when he realizes how uniform are the typical unconscious complexes. Difference first arises from individualization. This fact gives to an essential portion of the Schopenhauer and Hartmann philosophies a deep psychologic justification. [9] The very evident uniformity of the unconscious mechanism serves as a psychologic foundation for these philosophic views. The unconscious contains the differentiated remnants of the earlier psychologic functions overcome by the individual differentiation. The reaction and products of the animal psyche are of a generally diffused uniformity and solidity, which, among men, may be discovered apparently only in traces. Man appears as something extraordinarily individual in contrast with animals.

This might be a tremendous delusion, because we have the appropriate tendency always to recognize only the difference of things. This is demanded by the psychologic adaptation which, without the most minute differentiation of the impressions, would be absolutely impossible. In opposition to this tendency we have ever the greatest difficulty in recognizing in their common relations the things with which we are occupied in everyday life. This recognition becomes much easier with things which are more remote from us. For example, it is almost impossible for a European to differentiate the faces in a Chinese throng, although the Chinese have just as individual facial formations as the Europeans, but the similarity of their strange facial expression is much more evident to the remote onlooker than their individual differences. But when we live among the Chinese then the impression of their uniformity disappears more and more, and finally the Chinese become individuals also. Individuality belongs to those conditional actualities which are greatly overrated theoretically on account of their practical significance. It does not belong to those overwhelmingly clear and therefore universally obtrusive general facts upon which a science must primarily be founded. The individual content of consciousness is, therefore, the most unfavorable object imaginable for psychology, because it has veiled the universally valid until it has become unrecognizable. The essence of consciousness is the process of adaptation which takes place in the most minute details. On the other hand, the unconscious is the generally diffused, which not only binds the individuals among themselves to the race, but also unites them backwards with the peoples of the past and their psychology. Thus the unconscious, surpassing the individual in its generality, is, in the first place, the object of a true psychology, which claims not to be psychophysical.

Man as an individual is a suspicious phenomenon, the right of whose existence from a natural biological standpoint could be seriously contested, because, from this point of view, the individual is only a race atom, and has a significance only as a mass constituent. The ethical standpoint, however, gives to the human being an individual tendency separating him from the mass, which, in the course of centuries, led to the development of personality, hand in hand with which developed the hero cult, and has led to the modern individualistic cult of personages. The attempts of rationalistic theology to keep hold of the personal Jesus as the last and most precious remnant of the divinity which has vanished beyond the power of the imagination corresponds to this tendency. In this respect the Roman Catholic Church was more practical, because she met the general need of the visible, or at least historically believed hero, through the fact that she placed upon the throne of worship a small but clearly perceptible god of the world, namely, the Roman Pope, the Pater patrum, and at the same time the Pontifex Maximus of the invisible upper or inner God. The sensuous demonstrability of God naturally supports the religious process of introversion, because the human figure essentially facilitates the transference, for it is not easy to imagine something lovable or venerable in a spiritual being. This tendency, everywhere present, has been secretly preserved in the rationalistic theology with its Jesus historically insisted upon. This does not mean that men loved the visible God; they love him, not as he is, for he is merely a man, and when the pious wished to love humanity they could go to their neighbors and their enemies to love them. Mankind wishes to love in God only their ideas, that is to say, the ideas which they project into God. By that they wish to love their unconscious, that is, that remnant of ancient humanity and the centuries-old past in all people, namely, the common property left behind from all development which is given to all men, like the sunshine and the air. But in loving this inheritance they love that which is common to all. Thus they turn back to the mother of humanity, that is to say, to the spirit of the race, and regain in this way something of that connection and of that mysterious and irresistible power which is imparted by the feeling of belonging to the herd. It is the problem of Antaeus, who preserves his gigantic strength only through contact with mother earth. This temporary withdrawal into one's self, which, as we have already seen, signifies a regression to the childish bond to the parent, seems to act favorably, within certain limits, in its effect upon the psychologic condition of the individual. It is in general to be expected that the two fundamental mechanisms of the psychoses, transference and introversion, are to a wide extent extremely appropriate methods of normal reaction against complexes; transference as a means of escaping from the complex into reality; introversion as a means of detaching one's self from reality through the complex.

After we have informed ourselves about the general purposes of prayer, we are prepared to hear more about the vision of our dreamer. After the prayer, " the head of a sphinx with an Egyptian headdress " appeared, only to vanish quickly. Here the author was disturbed, so that for a moment she awoke. This vision recalls the previously mentioned phantasy of the Egyptian statue, whose rigid gesture is entirely in place here as a phenomenon of the so-called functional category. The light stages of the hypnosis are designated technically as "Engourdissement " (stiffening). The word Sphinx in the whole civilized world signifies the same as riddle : a puzzling creature who proposes riddles, like the Sphinx of Oedipus, standing at the portal of his fate like a symbolic proclamation of the inevitable. The Sphinx is a semi-theriomorphic representation of that "mother image" which may be designated as the "terrible mother," of whom many traces are found in mythology. This interpretation is correct for Oedipus. Here the question is opened. The objection will be raised that nothing except the word "Sphinx" justifies the allusion to the Sphinx of Oedipus. On account of the lack of subjective materials, which in the Miller text are wholly lacking in regard to this vision, an individual interpretation would also be excluded. The suggestion of an "Egyptian" phantasy (Part I, Chapter II) is entirely insufficient to be employed here. Therefore we are compelled, if we wish to venture at all upon an understanding of this vision, to direct ourselves -- perhaps in all too daring a manner -- to the available ethnographic material under the assumption that the unconscious of the present-day man coins its symbols as was done in the most remote past. The Sphinx, in its traditional form, is a half-human, half-animal creature, which we must, in part, interpret in the way that is applicable to such phantastic products. The reader is directed to the deductions in the first part of this volume where the theriomorphic representations of the libido were discussed. This manner of representation is very familiar to the analyst, through the dreams and phantasies of neurotics (and of normal men). The impulse is readily represented as an animal, as a bull, horse, dog, etc. One of my patients, who had questionable relations with women, and who began the treatment with the fear, so to speak, that I would surely forbid him his sexual adventures, dreamed that I (his physician) very skilfully speared to the wall a strange animal, half pig, half crocodile. Dreams swarm with such theriomorphic representations of the libido. Mixed beings, such as are in this dream, are not rare. A series of very beautiful illustrations, where especially the lower half of the animal was represented theriomorphically, has been furnished by Bertschinger. [10] The libido which was represented theriomorphically is the "animal" sexuality which is in a repressed state. The history of repression, as we have seen, goes back to the incest problem, where the first motives for moral resistance against sexuality display themselves. The objects of the repressed libido are, in the last degree, the images of father and mother; therefore the theriomorphic symbols, in so far as they do not symbolize merely the libido in general, have a tendency to present father and mother (for example, father represented by a bull, mother by a cow). From these roots, as we pointed out earlier, might probably arise the theriomorphic attributes of the Divinity. In as far as the repressed libido manifests itself under certain conditions, as anxiety, these animals are generally of a horrible nature. In consciousness we are attached by all sacred bonds to the mother; in the dream she pursues us as a terrible animal. The Sphinx, mythologically considered, is actually a fear animal, which reveals distinct traits of a mother derivate. In the Oedipus legend the Sphinx is sent by Hera, who hates Thebes on account of the birth of Bacchus; because Oedipus conquers the Sphinx, which is nothing but fear of the mother, he must marry Jocasta, his mother, for the throne and the hand of the widowed queen of Thebes belonged to him who freed the land from the plague of the Sphinx. The genealogy of the Sphinx is rich in allusions to the problem touched upon here. She is a daughter of Echnida, a mixed being; a beautiful maiden above, a hideous serpent below. This double creature corresponds to the picture of the mother; above, the human, lovely and attractive half; below, the horrible animal half, converted into a fear animal through the incest prohibition. Echnida is derived from the All-mother, the mother Earth, Gaea, who, with Tartaros, the personified underworld (the place of horrors), brought her forth. Echnida herself is the mother of all terrors, of the Chimaera, Scylla, Gorgo, of the horrible Cerberus, of the Nemean Lion, and of the eagle who devoured the liver of Prometheus; besides this she gave birth to a number of dragons. One of her sons is Orthrus, the dog of the monstrous Geryon, who was killed by Hercules. With this dog, her son, Echnida, in incestuous intercourse, produced the Sphinx. These materials will suffice to characterize that amount of libido which led to the Sphinx symbol. If, in spite of the lack of subjective material, we may venture to draw an inference from the Sphinx symbol of our author, we must say that the Sphinx represents an original incestuous amount of libido detached from the bond to the mother. Perhaps it is better to postpone this conclusion until we have examined the following visions.

After Miss Miller had concentrated herself again, the vision developed further:

"Suddenly an Aztec appeared, absolutely clear in every detail; the hands spread open, with large fingers, the head in profile, armored, headdress similar to the feather ornaments of the American Indian. The whole was somewhat suggestive of Mexican sculpture."


The ancient Egyptian character of the Sphinx is replaced here by American antiquity -- by the Aztec. The essential idea is neither Egypt nor Mexico, for the two could not be interchanged; but it is the subjective factor which the dreamer produces from her own past. I have frequently observed in the analysis of Americans that certain unconscious complexes, i.e. repressed sexuality, are represented by the symbol of a Negro or an Indian; for example, when a European tells in his dream, "Then came a ragged, dirty individual," for Americans and for those who live in the tropics it is a Negro. When with Europeans it is a vagabond or a criminal, with Americans it is a Negro or an Indian which represents the individual's own repressed sexual personality, and the one considered inferior. It is also desirable to go into the particulars of this vision, as there are various things worthy of notice. The feather cap, which naturally had to consist of eagles' feathers, is a sort of magic charm. The hero assumes at the same time something of the sun-like character of this bird when he adorns himself with its feathers, just as the courage and strength of the enemy are appropriated in swallowing his heart or taking his scalp. At the same time, the feather crest is a crown which is equivalent to the rays of the sun. The historical importance of the Sun identification has been seen in the first part. [11]

Especial interest attaches to the hand, which is described as "open," and the fingers, which are described as "large." It is significant that it is the hand upon which the distinct emphasis falls. One might rather have expected a description of the facial expression. It is well known that the gesture of the hand is significant; unfortunately, we know nothing about that here. Nevertheless, a parallel phantasy might be mentioned, which also puts the emphasis upon hands. A patient in a hypnagogic condition saw his mother painted on a wall, like a painting in a Byzantine church. She held one hand up, open wide, with fingers spread apart. The fingers were very large, swollen into knobs on the ends, and each surrounded by a small halo. The immediate association with this picture was the fingers of a frog with sucking discs at the ends. Then the similarity to the penis. The ancient setting of this mother picture is also of importance. Evidently the hand had, in this phantasy, a phallic meaning. This interpretation was confirmed by a further very remarkable phantasy of the same patient. He saw something like a "sky-rocket" ascending from his mother's hand, which at a closer survey becomes a shining bird with golden wings, a golden pheasant, as it then occurs to his mind. We have seen in the previous chapter that the hand has actually a phallic, generative meaning, and that this meaning plays a great part in. the production of fire. In connection with this phantasy, there is but one observation to make : fire was bored with the hand; therefore it comes from the hand; Agni, the fire, was worshipped as a golden-winged bird. [12] It is extremely significant that it is the mother's hand. I must deny myself the temptation to enter more deeply into this. Let it be sufficient to have pointed out the possible significance of the hand of the Aztec by means of these parallel hand phantasies. We have mentioned the mother suggestively with the Sphinx. The Aztec taking the place of the Sphinx points, through his suggestive hand, to parallel phantasies in which the phallic hand really belongs to the mother. Likewise we encounter an antique setting in parallel phantasies. The significance of the antique, which experience has shown to be the symbol for "infantile," is confirmed by Miss Miller in this connection in the annotation to her phantasies, for she says:

"In my childhood, I took a special interest in the Aztec fragments and in the history of Peru and of the Incas."


Through the two analyses of children which have been published we have attained an insight into the child's small world, and have seen what burning interests and questions secretly surround the parents, and that the parents are, for a long time, the objects of the greatest interest. [13] We are, therefore, justified in suspecting that the antique setting applies to the "ancients," that is to say, the parents, and that consequently this Aztec has something of the father or mother in himself. Up to this time indirect hints point only to the mother, which is nothing remarkable in an American girl, because Americans, as a result of the extreme detachment from the father, are characterized by a most enormous mother complex, which again is connected with the especial social position of woman in the United States. This position brings about a special masculinity among capable women, which easily makes possible the symbolizing into a masculine figure. [14]

After this vision, Miss Miller felt that a name formed itself "bit by bit," which seemed to belong to this Aztec "the son of an Inca of Peru." The name is " Chi-wanto-pel." As the author intimated, something similar to this belonged to her childish reminiscences. The act of naming is, like baptism, something exceedingly important for the creation of a personality, because, since olden times, a magic power has been attributed to the name, with which, for example, the spirit of the dead can be conjured. To know the name of any one means, in mythology, to have power over that one. As a well-known example I mention the fairy tale of "Rumpelstilzchen." In an Egyptian myth, Isis robs the Sun god Re permanently of his power by compelling him to tell her his real name. Therefore, to give a name means to give power, invest with a definite personality. [15] The author observed, in regard to the name itself, that it reminded her very much of the impressive name Popocatepetl, a name which belongs to unforgettable school memories, and, to the greatest indignation of the patient, very often emerges in an analysis in a dream or phantasy and brings with it that same old joke which one heard in school, told oneself and later again forgot. Although one might hesitate to consider this unhallowed joke as of psychologic importance, still one must inquire for the reason of its being. One must also put, as a counter question, Why is it always Popocatepetl and not the neighboring Iztaccihuatl, or the even higher and just as clear Orizaba ? The last has certainly the more beautiful and more easily pronounced name. Popocatepetl is impressive because of its onomatopoetic name. In English the word is "to pop" (popgun), which is here considered as onomatopoesy; in German the words are Hinterpommern, Pumpernickel; Bombe; Petarde (le pet = flatus) . The frequent German word Popo (Podex) does not indeed exist in English, but flatus is designated as "to poop" in childish speech. The act of defecation is often designated as "to pop." A joking name for the posterior part is "the bum." (Poop also means the rear end of a ship.) In French, pouf! is onomatopoetic; pouffer = platzen (to explode), la poupe = rear end of ship, le poupard the baby in arms, la poupee doll. Poupon is a pet name for a chubby-faced child. In Dutch pop, German Puppe and Latin puppis doll; in Plautus, however, it is also used jokingly for the posterior part of the body; pupus means child; pupula = girl, little dollie. The Greek word Image designates a cracking, snapping or blowing sound. It is used of kissing; by Theocritus also of the associated noise of flute blowing. The etymologic parallels show a remarkable relationship between the part of the body in question and the child. This relationship we will mention here, only to let it drop at once, as this question will claim our attention later.

One of my patients in his childhood had always connected the act of defecation with a phantasy that his posterior was a volcano and a violent eruption took place, explosion of gases and gushings forth of lava. The terms for the elemental occurrences of nature are originally not at all poetical; one thinks, for example, of the beautiful phenomenon of the meteor, which the German language most unpoetically calls "Sternschnuppe" (the smouldering wick of a star). Certain South American Indians call the shooting star the "urine of the stars." According to the principle of the least resistance, expressions are taken from the nearest source available. (For example, the transference of the metonymic expression of urination as Schiffens, "to rain.")

Now it seems to be very obscure why the mystical figure of Chiwantopel, whom Miss Miller, in a note, compares to the control spirit of the spiritualistic medium, [16] is found in such a disreputable neighborhood that his nature (name) was brought into relation with this particular part of the body. In order to understand this possibility, we must realize that when we produce from the unconscious the first to be brought forth is the infantile material long lost in memory. One must, therefore, take the point of view of that time in which this infantile material was still on the surface. If now a much-honored object is related in the unconscious to the anus, then one must conclude that something of a high valuation was expressed thereby. The question is only whether this corresponds to the psychology of the child. Before we enter upon this question, it must be stated that the anal region is very closely connected with veneration. One thinks of the traditional faeces of the Great Mogul. An Oriental tale has the same to say of Christian knights, who anointed themselves with the excrement of the pope and cardinals in order to make themselves formidable. A patient who is characterized by a special veneration for her father had a phantasy that she saw her father sitting upon the toilet in a dignified manner, and people going past greeted him effusively. [17] The association of the anal relations by no means excludes high valuation or esteem, as is shown by these examples, and as is easily seen from the intimate connection of faeces and gold. [18] Here the most worthless comes into the closest relation with the most valuable. This also happens in religious valuations. I discovered (at that time to my great astonishment) that a young patient, very religiously trained, represented in a dream the Crucified on the bottom of a blue-flowered chamber pot, namely, in the form of excrements. The contrast is so enormous that one must assume that the valuations of childhood must indeed be very different from ours. This is actually the truth. Children bring to the act of defecation and the products of this an esteem and interest [19] which later on is possible only to the hypochondriac. We do not comprehend this interest until we learn that the child very early connects with it a theory of propagation. [20] The libido afflux probably accounts for the enormous interest in this act. The child sees that this is the way in which something is produced, in which something comes out. The same child whom I reported in the little brochure "Uber Konflicte der kindlichen Seele," and who had a well-developed anal theory of birth, like little Hans, whom Freud made known to us, later contracted a habit of staying a long time on the toilet. Once the father grew impatient, went to the toilet and called, "Do come out of there; what are you making?" Whereupon the answer came from within, "A little wagon and two ponies." The child was making a little wagon and two ponies, that is to say, things which at that time she especially wished for. In this way one can make what one wishes, and the thing made is the thing wished for. The child wishes earnestly for a doll or, at heart, for a real child. (That is, the child practised for his future biological task, and in the way in which everything in general is produced he made the doll [21] himself as representative of the child or of the thing wished for in general. [22] ) From a patient I have learned a parallel phantasy of her childhood. In the toilet there was a crevice in the wall. She phantasied that from this crevice a fairy would come out and present her with everything for which she wished. The "locus" is known to be the place of dreams where much was wished for and created which later would no longer be suspected of having this place of origin. A pathological phantasy in place here is told us by Lombroso, [23] concerning two insane artists. Each of them considered himself God and the ruler of the world. They created or produced the world by making it come forth from the rectum, just as the egg of birds originates in the egg canal. One of these two artists was endowed with a true artistic sense. He painted a picture in which he was just in the act of creation ; the world came forth from his anus; the membrum was in full erection; he was naked, surrounded by women, and with all insignia of his power. The excrement is in a certain sense the thing wished for, and on that account it receives the corresponding valuation. When I first understood this connection, an observation made long ago, and which disturbed me greatly because I never rightly understood it, became clear to me. It concerned an educated patient who, under very tragic circumstances, had to be separated from her husband and child, and was brought into the insane asylum. She exhibited a typical apathy and slovenliness which was considered as affective mental deterioration. Even at that time I doubted this deterioration, and was inclined to regard it as a secondary adjustment. I took especial pains to ascertain how I could discover the existence of the affect in this case. Finally, after more than three hours' hard work, I succeeded in finding a train of thought which suddenly brought the patient into a completely adequate and therefore strongly emotional state. At this moment the affective connection with her was completely reestablished. That happened in the forenoon. When I returned at the appointed time in the evening to the ward to see her she had, for my reception, smeared herself from head to foot with excrement, and cried laughingly, "Do I please you so?" She had never done that before; it was plainly destined for me. The impression which I received was one of a personal affront and, as a result of this, I was convinced for years after of the affective deterioration of such cases. Now we understand this act as an infantile ceremony of welcome or a declaration of love.
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 4:01 am

Part 2 of 2

The origin of Chiwantopel, that is to say, an unconscious personality, therefore means, in the sense of the previous explanation, "I make, produce, invent him myself." It is a sort of human creation or birth by the anal route. The first people were made from excrement, potter's earth, or clay. The Latin lutum, which really means "moistened earth," also has the transferred meaning of dirt. In Plautus it is even a term of abuse, something like "You scum." The birth from the anus also reminds us of the motive of "throwing behind oneself." A well-known example is the oracular command, which Deucalion and Pyrrha, who were the only survivors from the great flood, received. They were to throw behind them the bones of the great mother. They then threw behind them stones, from which mankind sprang. According to a tradition, the Dactyli in a similar manner sprang from dust, which the nymph Anchiale threw behind her. There is also humorous significance attached to the anal products. The excrements are often considered in popular humor as a monument or memorial (which plays a special part in regard to the criminal in the form of grumus merdae); every one knows the humorous story of the man who, led by the spirit through labyrinthian passages to a hidden treasure, after he had shed all his pieces of clothing, deposited excrement as a last guide post on his road. In a more distant past a sign of this kind possessed as great a significance as the dung of animals to indicate the direction taken. Simple monuments ("little stone figure ") have taken the place of this perishable mark.

It is noteworthy that Miss Miller quotes another case, where a name suddenly obtruded itself, parallel to the emerging into consciousness of Chiwantopel, namely, A-ha-ma-ra-ma, with the feeling that it dealt with something Assyrian. [24] As a possible source of this, there occurred to her "Asurabama, who made cuneiform bricks," [25] those imperishable documents made from clay: the monuments of the most ancient history. If it were not emphasized that the bricks are "cuneiform," then it might mean ambiguously "wedged-shaped bricks," which is more suggestive of our interpretation than that of the author.

Miss Miller remarks that besides the name "Asurabama " she also thought of "Ahasuerus " or "Ahasverus." This phantasy leads to a very different aspect of the problem of the unconscious personality. While the previous materials betrayed to us something of the infantile theory of creation, this phantasy opens up a vista into the dynamics of the unconscious creation of personality. Ahasver is, as is well known, the Wandering Jew; he is characterized by endless and restless wanderings until the end of the world. The fact that the author has thought of this particular name justifies us in following this trail. The legend of Ahasver, the first literary traces of which belong to the thirteenth century, seems to be of Occidental origin, and belongs to those ideas which possess indestructible vital energy. The figure of the Wandering Jew has undergone more literary elaboration than the figure of Faust, and nearly all of this work belongs to the last century. If the figure is not called Ahasver, still it is there under another name, perhaps as Count of St. Germain, the mysterious Rosicrucian, whose immortality was assured, and whose temporary residence (the land) was equally known. [26] Although the stories about Ahasver cannot be traced back any earlier than the thirteenth century, the oral tradition can reach back considerably further, and it is not an impossibility that a bridge to the Orient exists. There is the parallel figure of Chidr, or "al Chadir," the "ever-youthful Chidher" celebrated in song by Rueckert. The legend is purely Islamitic. The peculiar feature, however, is that Chidher is not only a saint, but in Sufic circles [27] rises even to divine significance. In view of the severe monotheism of Islam, one is inclined to think of Chidher as a pre-Islamitic Arabian divinity who would hardly be officially recognized by the new religion, but might have been tolerated on political grounds. But there is nothing to prove that. The first traces of Chidher are found in the commentaries of the Koran, Buchari and Tabare and in a commentary to a noteworthy passage of the eighteenth sura of the Koran. The eighteenth sura is entitled "the cave," that is, after the cave of the seven sleepers, who, according to the legend, slept there for 309 years, and thus escaped persecution, and awoke in a new era. Their legend is recounted in the eighteenth sura, and divers reflections were associated with it. The wish-fulfilment idea of the legend is very clear. The mystic material for it is the immutable model of the Sun's course. The Sun sets periodically, but does not die. It hides in the womb of the sea or in a subterranean cave, [28] and in the morning is "born again," complete. The language in which this astronomic occurrence is clothed is one of clear symbolism; the Sun returns into the mother's womb, and after some time is again born. Of course, this event is properly an incestuous act, of which, in mythology, clear traces are still retained, not the least of which is the circumstance that the dying and resurrected gods are the lovers of their own mothers or have generated themselves through their own mothers. Christ as the "God becoming flesh " has generated himself through Mary; Mithra has done the same. These Gods are unmistakable Sun-gods, for the Sun also does this, in order to again renew himself. Naturally, it is not to be assumed that astronomy came first and these conceptions of gods afterwards; the process was, as always, inverted, and it is even true that primitive magic charms of rebirth, baptism, superstitious usages of all sorts, concerning the cure of the sick, etc., were projected into the heavens. These youths were born from the cave (the womb of mother earth), like the Sun-gods, in a new era, and this was the way they vanquished death. In this far they were immortal. It is now interesting to see how the Koran comes, after long ethical contemplations in the course of the same sura, to the following passage, which is of especial significance for the origin of the Chidher myth. For this reason I quote the Koran literally:

"Remember when Moses said to his servant, 'I will not stop till I reach the confluence of the two seas, or for eighty years will I journey on.'

"But when they reached their confluence they forgot their fish, and it took its way in the sea at will.

"And when they had passed on, Moses said to his servant, 1 Bring us our morning meal, for now we have incurred weariness from this our journey.'

"He said, 'What thinkest thou? When we repaired to the rock for rest, then verily I forgot the fish; and none but Satan made me forget it, so as not to mention it; and it hath taken its way in the sea in a wondrous sort.'

"He said, 'It is this we were in quest of.' So they both went back retracing their footsteps.

"Then found they one of our servants to whom we had vouchsafed our mercy, and whom we had instructed with our knowledge; [29]

"Moses said to him, 'Shall I follow thee that thou teach me, for guidance of that which thou hast been taught?'

He said, 'Verily, thou canst by no means have patience with me; and how canst thou be patient in matters whose meaning thou comprehendest not?'" -- Trans. Rodwell, page 188.


Moses now accompanies the mysterious servant of God, who does divers things which Moses cannot comprehend; finally, the Unknown takes leave of Moses, and speaks to him as follows:

"They will ask thee of Dhoulkarnein (the two-horned). [30] Say: 'I will recite to you an account of him.'

"Verily, we established his power upon the earth and we gave him a means to accomplish every end, so he followed his way;

"Until when he reached the setting of the sun, he found it to set in a miry forest; and hard by, he found a people. . . ."


Now follows a moral reflection; then the narrative continues:

"Then he followed his course further until he came to the place where the sun rises. ..."


If now we wish to know who is the unknown servant of God, we are told in this passage he is Dhulqarnein, Alexander, the Sun; he goes to the place of setting and he goes to the place of rising. The passage about the unknown servant of God is explained by the commentaries in a well-defined legend. The servant is Chidher, "the verdant one," the never-tiring wanderer, who roams for hundreds and thousands of years over lands and seas, the teacher and counsellor of pious men; the one wise in divine knowledge -- the immortal. [31] The authority of the Tabari associates Chidher with Dhulqarnein; Chidher is said to have reached the "stream of life" as a follower of Alexander, and both unwittingly had drunk of it, so that they became immortal. Moreover, Chidher is identified by the old commentators with Elias, who also did not die, but who was taken to Heaven in a fiery chariot. Elias is Helios. [32] It is to be observed that Ahasver also owes his existence to an obscure place in the holy Christian scriptures. This place is to be found in Matthew xvi : 28. First comes the scene where Christ appoints Peter as the rock of his church, and nominates him the governor of his power. [33] After that follows the prophecy of his death, and then comes the passage:

"Verily, I say unto you, there be some standing here, which shall not taste of death till they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom."


Here follows the scene of the transfiguration:

"And was transfigured before them: and his face did shine as the sun, and his raiment was white as the light.

"And behold there appeared unto them Moses and Elias talking with him.

"Then answered Peter and said unto Jesus, 'Lord, it is good for us to be here; if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles; one for thee and one for Moses and one for Elias.'" [34]


From these passages it appears that Christ stands on the same plane as Elias, without being identified with him, [35] although the people consider him as Elias. The ascension places Christ as identical with Elias. The prophecy of Christ shows that there exist aside from himself one or more immortals who shall not die until Parousai. According to John xxi: 22nd verse, the boy John was considered as one of these immortals, and in the legend he is, in fact, not dead but merely sleeping in the ground until Parousai, and breathes so that the dust swirls round his grave. [36] As is evident, there are passable bridges from Christ by way of Elias to Chidher and Ahasuerus. It is said in an account of this legend [37] that Dhulqarnein led his friend Chidher to the "source of life "in order to have him drink of immortality. [38] Alexander also bathed in the stream of life and performed the ritual ablutions. As I previously mentioned in a footnote, according to Matthew xvii: I2th verse, John the Baptist is Elias, therefore primarily identical with Chidher. Now, however, it is to be noted that in the Arabian legend Chidher appears rather as a companion or accompanied (Chidher with Dhulqarnein or with Elias, "like unto them"; or identified with them [39]). There are therefore, two similar figures who resemble each other, but who, nevertheless, are distinct. The analogous situation in the Christian legend is found in the scene by the Jordan where John leads Christ to the "source of life." Christ is there, the subordinate, John the superior, similar to Dhulqarnein and Chidher, or Chidher and Moses, also Elias. The latter relation especially is such that Vollers compares Chidher and Elias, on the one side, with Gilgamesh and his mortal brother Eabani; on the other side, with the Dioscuri, one of whom is immortal, the other mortal. This relation is also found in Christ and John the Baptist, [40] on the one hand, and Christ and Peter, on the other. The last-named parallel only finds its explanation through comparison with the Mithraic mysteries, where the esoteric contents are revealed to us through monuments. Upon the Mithraic marble relief of Klagenfurt [41] it is represented how with a halo Mithra crowns Helios, who either kneels before him or else floats up to him from below. Mithra is represented on a Mithraic monument of Osterburken as holding in his right hand the shoulder of the mystic ox above Helios, who stands bowed down before him, the left hand resting on a sword hilt. A crown lies between them on the ground. Cumont observes about this scene that it probably represents the divine prototype of the ceremony of the initiation into the degree of Miles, in which a sword and a crown were conferred upon the mystic. Helios is, therefore, appointed the Miles of Mithra. In a general way, Mithra seems to occupy the role of patron to Helios, which reminds us of the boldness of Hercules towards Helios. Upon his journey towards Geryon, Helios burns too hotly; Hercules, full of anger, threatens him with his never-failing arrows. Therefore, Helios is compelled to yield, and lends to the hero his Sun ship, with which he was accustomed to journey across the sea. Thus Hercules returns to Erythia, to the cattle herds of Geryon. [42] On the monument at Klagenfurt, Mithra is furthermore represented pressing Helios's hand, either in farewell or as a ratification. In a further scene Mithra mounts the Chariot of Helios, either for the ascension or the u Sea Journey." [43] Cumont is of the opinion that Mithra gives to Helios a sort of ceremonious investiture and consecrates him with his divine power by crowning him with his own hands. This relation corresponds to that of Christ to Peter. Peter, through his symbol, the cock, has the character of a sun-god. After the ascension (or sea journey) of Christ, he is the visible pontiff of the divinity; he suffers, therefore, the same death (crucifixion) as Christ, and becomes the great Roman deity (Sol invictus), the conquering, triumphant Church itself, embodied in the Pope. In the scene of Malchus he is always shown as the miles of Christ, to whom the sword is granted, and as the rock upon which the Church is founded. The crown [44] is also given to him who possesses the power to bind and to set free, Thus, Christ, like the Sun, is the visible God, whereas the Pope, like the heir of the Roman Caesars, is solis invicti comes. The setting sun appoints a successor whom he invests with the power of the sun. [45] Dhulqarnein gives Chidher eternal life. Chidher communicates his wisdom to Moses. [46] There even exists a report according to which the forgetful servant of Joshua drinks from the well of life, whereupon he becomes immortal, and is placed in a ship by Chidher and Moses, as a punishment, and is cast out to sea, once more a fragment of a sun myth, the motive of the "sea journey." [47]

The primitive symbol, which designates that portion of the Zodiac in which the Sun, with the Winter Solstice, again enters upon the yearly course, is the goat, fish sign, the Image . The Sun mounts like a goat to the highest mountain, and later goes into the water as a fish. The fish is the symbol of the child, [48] for the child before his birth lives in the water like a fish, and the Sun, because it plunges into the sea, becomes equally child and fish. The fish, however, is also a phallic symbol, [49] also a symbol for the woman. [50] Briefly stated, the fish is a libido symbol, and, indeed, as it seems predominately for the renewal of the libido.

The journey of Moses with his servant is a life-journey (eighty years). They grow old and lose their life force (libido), that is, they lose the fish which "pursues its course in a marvellous manner to the sea," which means the setting of the sun. When the two notice their loss, they discover at the place where the "source of life" is found (where the dead fish revived and sprang into the sea) Chidher wrapped in his mantle, [51] sitting on the ground. According to another version, he sat on an island in the sea, or "in the wettest place on earth," that is, he was just born from the maternal depths. Where the fish vanished Chidher, "the verdant one," was born as a "son of the deep waters," his head veiled, a Cabir, a proclaimer of divine wisdom; the old Babylonian Oannes-Ea, who was represented in the form of a fish, and daily came from the sea as a fish to teach the people wisdom. [52] His name was brought into connection with John's. With the rising of the renewed sun all that lived in darkness, as water-animal or fish, surrounded by all terrors of night and death, [53] became as the shining fiery firmament of the day. Thus the words of John the Baptist [54] gain especial meaning:

"I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear; he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire."


With Vollers we may also compare Chidher and Elias (Moses and his servant Joshua) with Gilgamesh and his brother Eabani. Gilgamesh wandered through the world, driven by anxiety and longing, to find immortality. His path led him across the seas to the wise Utnapishtim (Noah), who knew how to cross the waters of death. There Gilgamesh had to dive down to the bottom of the sea for the magical herb which was to lead him back to the land of men. When he had come again to his native land a serpent stole the magic plant from him (the fish again slid into the sea). But on the return from the land of the blessed an immortal mariner accompanied him, who, banished by a curse of Utnapishtim, was forbidden to return to the land of the blessed. Gilgamesh's journey had lost its purpose on account of the loss of the magic herb; instead he is accompanied by an immortal, whose fate, indeed, we cannot learn from the fragments of the epic. This banished immortal is the model for Ahasver, as Jensen [55] aptly remarked.

Again we encounter the motive of the Dioscuri, mortal and immortal, setting and rising sun. This motive is also represented as if projected from the hero.

The Sacrificium Mithriacum (the sacrifice of the bull) is in its religious representation very often flanked by the two Dadophores, Cautes and Cautopates, one with a raised and the other with a lowered torch. They represent brothers who reveal their character through the symbolic position of the torch. Cumont connects them, not without meaning, with the sepulchral "erotes" who as genii with the reversed torches have traditional meaning. The one is supposed to stand for death and the other for life. I cannot refrain from mentioning the similarity between the Sacrificium Mithriacum (where the sacrificed bull in the centre is flanked on both sides by Dadophores) to the Christian sacrifice of the lamb (ram). The Crucified is also traditionally flanked by the two thieves, one of whom ascends to Paradise, while the other descends to Hell. [56] The idea of the mortal and the immortal seems to have passed also into the Christian worship. Semitic gods are often represented as flanked by two Paredroi; for example, Baal of Edessa, accompanied by Aziz and Monimoz (Baal as the Sun, accompanied by Mars and Mercury, as expressed in astronomical teachings). According to the Chaldean view, the gods are grouped into triads. In this circle of ideas belongs also the Trinity, the idea of the triune God, in which Christ must be considered in his unity with the Father and the Holy Ghost. So, too, do the two thieves belong inwardly to Christ. The two Dadophores are, as Cumont points out, nothing but offshoots [57] from the chief figure of Mithra, to whom belongs a mysterious three-fold character. According to an account of Dionysus Areopagita, the magicians celebrated a festival, " Image Image." [i] [58] An observation likewise referring to the Trinity is made by Plutarch concerning Ormuzd: Image. [ii] The Trinity, as three different states of the unity, is also a Christian thought. In the very first place this suggests a sun myth. An observation by Macrobius i: 18 seems to lend support to this idea:

"Hae autem aetatum diversitates ad solem referuntur, ut parvulus videatur hiemali solstitio, qualem Aegyptii proferunt ex adyto die certa, . . . aequinoctio vernali figura iuvenis ornatur. Postea statuitur aetas ejus plenissima effigie barbae solstitio aestivo . . . exunde per diminutiones veluti senescenti quarta forma deus figuratur." [iii] [59]


As Cumont observes, Cautes and Cautapates occasionally carry in their hands the head of a bull, and a scorpion. [60] Taurus and Scorpio are equinoctial signs, which clearly indicate that the sacrificial scene refers primarily to the Sun cycle; the rising Sun, which sacrifices itself at the summer solstice, and the setting Sun. In the sacrificial scene the symbol of the rising and setting Sun was not easily represented; therefore, this idea was removed from the sacrificial image.

We have pointed out above that the Dioscuri represent a similar idea, although in a somewhat different form; the one sun is always mortal, the other immortal. As this entire sun mythology is merely a psychologic projection to the heavens, the fundamental thesis probably is as follows; just as man consists of a mortal and immortal part, so the sun is a pair of brothers, [61] one being mortal, the other immortal. This thought lies at the basis of all theology in general. Man is, indeed, mortal, but there are some who are immortal, or there is something in us which is immortal. Thus the gods, "a Chidher or a St. Germain," are our immortal part, which, though incomprehensible, dwells among us somewhere.

Comparison with the sun teaches us over and over again that the gods are libido. It is that part of us which is immortal, since it represents that bond through which we feel that in the race we are never extinguished. [62] It is life from the life of mankind. Its springs, which well up from the depths of the unconscious, come, as does our life in general, from the root of the whole of humanity, since we are indeed only a twig broken off from the mother and transplanted.

Since the divine in us is the libido, [63] we must not wonder that we have taken along with us in our theology ancient representations from olden times, which give the triune figure to the God. We have taken this Image Image [iv] from the phallic symbolism, the originality of which may well be uncontested. [64] The male genitals are the basis for this Trinity. It is an anatomical fact that one testicle is generally placed somewhat higher than the other, and it is also a very old, but, nevertheless, still surviving, superstition that one testicle generates a boy and the other a girl. [65] A late Babylonian bas-relief from Lajard's [66] collection seems to be in accordance with this view. In the middle of the image stands an androgynous god (masculine and feminine face [67]); upon the right, male side, is found a serpent, with a sun halo round its head; upon the left, female side, there is also a serpent, with the moon above its head. Above the head of the god there are three stars. This ensemble would seem to confirm the Trinity [68] of the representation. The Sun serpent at the right side is male; the serpent at the left side is female (signified by the moon). This image possesses a symbolic sexual suffix, which makes the sexual significance of the whole obtrusive. Upon the male side a rhomb is found -- a favorite symbol of the female genitals; upon the female side there is a wheel or felly. A wheel always refers to the Sun, but the spokes are thickened and enlarged at the ends, which suggests phallic symbolism. It seems to be a phallic wheel, which was not unknown in antiquity. There are obscene bas-reliefs where Cupid turns a wheel of nothing but phalli. [69] It is not only the serpent which suggests the phallic significance of the Sun; I quote one especially marked case, from an abundance of proof. In the antique collection at Verona I discovered a late Roman mystic inscription in which are the following representations:

Image

These symbols are easily read : Sun -- Phallus, Moon -- Vagina (Uterus). This interpretation is confirmed by another figure of the same collection. There the same representation is found, only the vessel [70] is replaced by the figure of a woman. The impressions on coins, where in the middle a palm is seen encoiled by a snake, flanked by two stones (testicles), or else in the middle a stone encircled by a snake; to the right a palm, to the left a shell (female genitals [71]), should be interpreted in a similar manner. In Lajard's "Researches" ("The Cult of Venus ") there is a coin of Perga, where Artemis of Perga is represented by a conical stone (phallic) flanked by a man (claimed to be Men) and by a female figure (claimed to be Artemis). Men (the so-called Lunus) is found upon an Attic bas-relief apparently with the spear but fundamentally a sceptre with a phallic significance, flanked by Pan with a club (phallus) and a female figure. [72] The traditional representation of the Crucified flanked by John and Mary is closely associated with this circle of ideas, precisely as is the Crucified with the thieves. From this we see how, beside the Sun, there emerges again and again the much more primitive comparison of the libido with the phallus. An especial trace still deserves mention here. The Dadophor Cautapates, who represents Mithra, is also represented with the cock [73] and the pineapple. But these are the attributes of the Phrygian god Men, whose cult was widely diffused. Men was represented with Pileus, [74] the pineapple and the cock, also in the form of a boy, just as the Dadophores are boyish figures. (This last-named property relates them with Men to the Cabiri.) Men has a very close connection with Attis, the son and lover of Cybele. In the time of the Roman Caesars, Men and Attis were entirely identified, as stated above. Attis also wears the Pileus like Men, Mithra and the Dadophores. As the son and lover of his mother he again leads us to the source of this religion-creating incest libido, namely, to the mother. Incest leads logically to ceremonial castration in thd Attic-Cybele cult, for the Hero, driven insane by his mother, mutilates himself. [75] I must at present forego entering more deeply into this matter, because the incest problem is to be discussed at the close. Let this suggestion suffice -- that from different directions the analysis of the libido symbolism always leads back again to the mother incest. Therefore, we may surmise that the longing of the libido raised to God (repressed into the unconscious) is a primitive, incestuous one which concerns the mother. Through renouncing the virility to the first beloved, the mother, the feminine element becomes extremely predominant; hence the strongly androgynous character of the dying and resurrected Redeemer. That these heroes are nearly always wanderers [76] is a psychologically clear symbolism. The wandering is a representation of longing, [77] of the ever-restless desire, which nowhere finds its object, for, unknown to itself, it seeks the lost mother. The wandering association renders the Sun comparison easily intelligible ; also, under this aspect, the heroes always resemble the wandering Sun, which seems to justify the fact that the myth of the hero is a sun myth. But the myth of the hero, however, is, as it appears to me, the myth of our own suffering unconscious, which has an unquenchable longing for all the deepest sources of our own being; for the body of the mother, and through it for communion with infinite life in the countless forms of existence. Here I must introduce the words of the Master who has divined the deepest roots of Faustian longings:

"Unwilling, I reveal a loftier mystery. --
In solitude are throned the Goddesses,
No Space around them, Place and Time still less:
Only to speak of them embarrasses.
They are THE MOTHERS!

"Goddesses unknown to ye,
The Mortals, -- named by us unwillingly.
Delve in the deepest depths must thou to reach them:
Tis thine own fault that we for help beseech them.

"Where is the way?


"No way! To the Unreachable, Ne'er to be trodden! A way to the Unbeseechable, Never to be besought! Art thou prepared? There are no locks, no latches to be lifted! Through endless solitudes shalt thou be drifted! Hast thou through solitudes and deserts dared?

And hadst them swum to farthest verge of ocean And there the boundless space beheld, Still hadst thou seen wave after wave in motion, Even though impending doom thy fear compelled. Thou hadst seen something -- in the beryl dim Of peace-lulled seas, the sportive dolphins swim ; Hadst seen the flying clouds, sun, moon and star; Nought shalt thou see in endless Void afar -- Not hear thy footstep fall, nor meet A stable spot to rest thy feet.

"Here, take this key!
The Key will scent the true place from all others;
Follow it down! 'Twill lead thee to the Mothers.

"Descend then! I could also say: Ascend!
'Twere all the same. Escape from the Created
To shapeless forms in liberated spaces!
Enjoy what long ere this was dissipated!
There whirls the press, like clouds on clouds unfolding;
Then with stretched arm swing high the key thou'rt holding!

"At last a blazing tripod, [78] tells thee this,
That there the utterly deepest bottom is.
Its light to thee will then the Mothers show,
Some in their seats, the others stand or go,
At their own will: Formation, Transformation,
The Eternal Mind's eternal recreation,
Forms of all Creatures, -- there are floating free.
They'll see thee not! for only wraiths they see.
So pluck up heart, -- the danger then is great.
Go to the tripod ere thou hesitate,
And touch it with the key."


_______________

Notes:

i. Of the threefold Mithra.

ii. Having expanded himself threefold, he departed from the sun.

iii. Now these differences in the seasons refer to the Sun, which seems at the winter solstice an infant, such as the Egyptians on a certain day bring out of their sanctuaries; at the vernal equinox it is represented as a youth. Later, at the summer solstice, its age is represented by a full growth of beard, while at the last, the god is represented by the gradually diminishing form of an old man.

iv. Threefold God.
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 4:09 am

Part 1 of 3

Chapter 5: Symbolism of the Mother and of Rebirth

The crowd as symbol of mystery -- The city as symbol of the mother -- The motive of continuous "union" -- The typical journey of the sun-hero -- Examples -- A longing for rebirth through the mother -- The compulsion to symbolize the mother as City, Sea, Source, etc. -- The city as terrible mother and as holy mother -- The relation of the water- motive to rebirth -- Of the tree-motive -- Tree of life a mother-image -- The bisexual character of trees -- Such symbols to be understood psychologically, not anatomically -- The incestuous desire aims at becoming a child again, not at incest -- It evades incest by creating myths of symbolic rebirth -- The libido spiritualized through this use of symbols -- To be born of the spirit -- This compulsion toward symbolism brings a release of forces bound up in incest -- This process in Christianity -- Christianity with its repression of the manifest sexual the negative of the ancient sexual cult -- The unconscious transformation of the incest wish into religious exercise does not meet the modern need -- A conscious method necessary, involving moral autonomy -- Replacing belief by understanding -- The history of the symbolism of trees -- The rise of the idea of the terrible mother a mask of the incest wish -- The myth of Osiris -- Related examples -- The motive of "devouring" -- The Cross of Christ: tree of death and tree of life -- Lilith: the devouring mother -- The Lamias -- The conquering of the mother -- Snake and dragon: the resistance against incest -- The father represents the active repulse of the incest wish of the son -- He frequently becomes the monster to be overcome by the hero -- The Mithraic sacrificing of the incest wish an overcoming of the mother -- A replacing of archaic overpowering by sacrifice of the wish -- The crucified Christ an expression of this renunciation -- Other cross sacrifices -- Cross symbol possesses significance of "union" -- Child in mother's womb: or man and mother in union Conception of the soul a derivative of mother imago -- The power of incest prohibition created the self-conscious individual -- It was the coercion to domestication -- The further visions of Miss Miller.

THE vision following the creation of the hero is described by Miss Miller as a "throng of people." This representation is known to us from dream interpretation as being, above all, the symbol of mystery. [1] Freud thinks that this choice of symbol is determined on account of its possibility of representing the idea. The bearer of the mystery is placed in opposition to the multitude of the ignorant. The possession of the mystery cuts one off from intercourse with the rest of mankind. For a very complete and smooth rapport with the surroundings is of great importance for the management of the libido and the possession of a subjectively important secret generally creates a great disturbance. It may be said that the whole art of life shrinks to the one problem of how the libido may be freed in the most harmless way possible. Therefore, the neurotic derives special benefit in treatment when he can at last rid himself of his various secrets. The symbol of the crowd of people, chiefly the streaming and moving mass, is, as I have often seen, substituted for the great excitement in the unconscious, especially in persons who are outwardly calm.

The vision of the "throng" develops further; horses emerge; a battle is fought. With Silberer, I might accept the significance of this vision as belonging, first of all, in the "functional category," because, fundamentally, the conception of the intermingling crowds is nothing but the symbol of the present onrush of the mass of thought; likewise the battle, and possibly the horses, which illustrate the movement. The deeper significance of the appearance of the horses will be seen for the first time in the further course of our treatment of the mother symbolism. The following vision has a more definite and significantly important character. Miss Miller sees a City of Dreams ("Cite de Reves"). The picture is similar to one she saw a short time before on the cover of a magazine. Unfortunately, we learn nothing further about it. One can easily imagine under this "Cite de Reves" a fulfilled wish dream, that is to say, something very beautiful and greatly longed for; a sort of heavenly Jerusalem, as the poet of the Apocalypse has dreamed it. The city is a maternal symbol, a woman who fosters the inhabitants as children. It is, therefore, intelligible that the two mother goddesses, Rhea and Cybele, both wear the wall crown. The Old Testament treats the cities of Jerusalem, Babel, etc., as women (Isaiah xlvii: 1-5):

"Come down and sit in the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon, sit on the ground: there is no throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans; for thou shalt no more be called tender and delicate. Take the millstones and grind meal; uncover thy locks, make bare the leg, uncover the thigh, pass over the rivers. That thy nakedness shall be uncovered, yea, thy shame shall be seen; sit thou silent, and get thee into darkness, O daughter of the Chaldeans; for thou shalt no more be called the lady of the kingdoms."


Jeremiah says of Babel (1: 12):

"Your mother shall be sore confounded; she that bare you shall be ashamed."


Strong, unconquered cities are virgins; colonies are sons and daughters. Cities are also whores. Isaiah says of Tyre (xxiii: 16):

"Take an harp, go about the city, thou harlot; thou hast been forgotten."


And:

"How does it come to pass that the virtuous city has become an harlot?"


We come across a similar symbolism in the myth of Ogyges, the mythical king who rules in Egyptian Thebes and whose wife was appropriately named Thebe. The Boeotian Thebes founded by Cadmus received on that account a surname, "Ogygian." This surname was also given to the great flood, as it was called "Ogygian" because it occurred under Ogyges. This coincidence will be found later on to be hardly accidental. The fact that the city and the wife of Ogyges bear the same name indicates that somewhere a relation must exist between the city and the woman, which is not difficult to understand, for the city is identical with the woman. We meet a similar idea in Hindoo lore where Indra appears as the husband of Urvara, but Urvara means "the fertile land." In a similar way the occupancy of a country by the king was understood as marriage with the ploughed land. Similar representations must have prevailed in Europe as well. Princes had to guarantee, for example, a good harvest at their accession. The Swedish King Domaldi was actually killed on account of the failure of the harvest (Ynglinga saga 18). In the Rama saga the hero Rama marries Sita, the furrow of the field. [2] To the same group of ideas belongs the Chinese custom of the Emperor ploughing a furrow at his ascension to the throne. This idea of the soil being feminine also embraces the idea of continual companionship with the woman, a physical communication. Shiva, the Phallic God, is, like Mahadeva and Parwati, male and female. He has even given one-half of his body to his consort Parwati as a dwelling place. [3] Inman [4] gives us a drawing of a Pundite of Ardanari-Iswara; one-half of the god is masculine, the other half feminine, and the genitals are in continuous cohabitation. The motive of continuous cohabitation is expressed in a well-known lingam symbol, which is to be found everywhere in Indian temples; the base is a female symbol, and within that is the phallus. [5] The symbol approaches very closely the Grecian mystic phallic basket and chests. (Compare with this the Eleusinian mysteries.) The chest or box is here a female symbol, that is, the mother's womb. This is a very well-known conception in the old mythologies. [6] The chest, basket or little basket, with its precious contents, was thought of as floating on the water; a remarkable inversion of the natural fact that the child floats in the amniotic fluid and that this is in the uterus.

This inversion brings about a great advantage for sublimation, for it creates enormous possibilities of application for the myth-weaving phantasy, that is to say, for the annexation to the sun cycle. The Sun floats over the sea like an immortal god, which every evening is immersed in the maternal water and is born again renewed in the morning. Frobenius says:

"Perhaps in connection with the blood-red sunrise, the idea occurs that here a birth takes place, the birth of a young son; the question then arises inevitably, whence comes the paternity? How has the woman become pregnant? And since this woman symbolizes the same idea as the fish, which means the sea, (because we proceed from the assumption that the Sun descends into the sea as well as arises from it) thus the curious primitive answer is that this sea has previously swallowed the old Sun. Consequently the resulting myth is, that the woman (sea) has formerly devoured the Sun and now brings a new Sun into the world, and thus she has become pregnant."


All these sea-going gods are sun symbols. They are enclosed in a chest or an ark for the "night journey on the sea" (Frobenius), often together with a woman (again an inversion of the actual situation, but in support of the motive of continuous cohabitation, which we have met above). During the night journey on the sea the Sun-god is enclosed in the mother's womb, oftentimes threatened by dangers of all kinds. Instead of many individual examples, I will content myself with reproducing the scheme which Frobenius has constructed from numberless myths of this sort:

Image

Frobenius gives the following legend to illustrate this:

"A hero is devoured by a water monster in the West (to devour). The animal carries him within him to the East (sea journey). Meanwhile, he kindles a fire in the belly of the monster (to set on fire) and since he feels hungry he cuts off a piece of the hanging heart (to cut off the heart). Soon after he notices that the fish glides upon the dry land (to land); he immediately begins to cut open the animal from within outwards (to open) then he slides out (to slip out). In the fish's belly, it had been so hot, that all his hair had fallen out (heat-hair). The hero frequently frees all who were previously devoured (to devour all) and all now slide out (slip out)."


A very close parallel is Noah's journey during the flood, in which all living creatures die; only he and the life guarded by him are brought to a new birth. In a Melapolynesian legend (Frobenius) it is told that the hero in the belly of the King Fish took his weapon and cut open the fish's belly. "He slid out and saw a splendor, and he sat down and reflected. 'I wonder where I am,' he said. Then the sun rose with a bound and turned from one side to the other." The Sun has again slipped out Frobenius mentions from the Ramayana the myth of the ape Hanuman, who represents the Sun-hero. The sun in which Hanuman hurries through the air throws a shadow upon the sea. The sea monster notices this and through this draws Hanuman toward itself; when the latter sees that the monster is about to devour him, he stretches out his figure immeasurably; the monster assumes the same gigantic proportions. As he does that Hanuman becomes as small as a thumb, slips into the great body of the monster and comes out on the other side. In another part of the poem it is said that he came out from the right ear of the monster (like Rabelais' Gargantua, who also was born from the mother's ear). "Hanuman thereupon resumes his flight, and finds a new obstacle in another sea monster, which is the mother of Rahus, the sun-devouring demon. The latter draws Hanuman's shadow [7] to her in the same way. Hanuman again has recourse to the earlier stratagem, becomes small and slips into her body, but hardly is he there than he grows to a gigantic mass, swells up, tears her, kills her, and in that way makes his escape."

Thus we understand why the Indian fire-bringer Mataricvan is called "the one swelling in the mother"; the ark (little box, chest, cask, vessel, etc.) is a symbol of the womb, just as is the sea, into which the Sun sinks for rebirth. From this circle of ideas we understand the mythologic statements about Ogyges; he it is who possesses the mother, the City, who is united with the mother; therefore under him came the great flood, for it is a typical fragment of the sun myth that the hero, when united with the woman attained with difficulty, is exposed in a cask and thrown into the sea, and then lands for a new life on a distant shore. The middle part, the "night journey on the sea" in the ark, is lacking in the tradition of Ogyges. [8] But the rule in mythology is that the typical parts of a myth can be united in all conceivable variations, which adds greatly to the extraordinary difficulty of the interpretation of a particular myth without knowledge of all the others. The meaning of this cycle of myths mentioned here is clear; it is the longing to attain rebirth through the return to the mother's womb, that is to say, to become as immortal as the sun. This longing for the mother is frequently expressed in our holy scriptures. [9] I recall, particularly the place in the epistle to the Galatians, where it is said (iv: 26):

(26) "But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all.

(27) "For it is written, Rejoice, thou barren that beareth not: break forth and cry, thou that travailest not: for the desolate hath many more children than she which hath an husband.

(28) "Now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are the children of promise.

(29) "But as he that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the spirit, even so it is now.

(30) "Nevertheless, what sayeth the scripture? Cast out the bondwoman and her son; for the son of a bondwoman shall not be heir with the son of a freewoman.

(31) "So, then, brethren, we are not children of the bond-woman, but of the free."

Chapter v:

(1) " Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free."


The Christians are the children of the City Above, a symbol of the mother, not sons of the earthly city-mother, who is to be cast out; for those born after the flesh are opposed to those born after the spirit, who are not born from the mother in the flesh, but from a symbol for the mother. One must again think of the Indians at this point, who say the first people proceeded from the sword-hilt and a shuttle. The religious thought is bound up with the compulsion to call the mother no longer mother, but City, Source, Sea, etc. This compulsion can be derived from the need to manifest an amount of libido bound up with the mother, but in such a way that the mother is represented by or concealed in a symbol. The symbolism of the city we find well-developed in the revelations of John, where two cities play a great part, one of which is insulted and cursed by him, the other greatly desired. We read in Revelation (xvii: i):

(1) "Come hither: I will shew unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth on many waters.

(2) "With whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication and the inhabitants of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her fornication.

(3) "So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit on a scarlet colored beast, full of the names of blasphemy, and having seven heads and ten horns.

(4) "And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colors, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup [10] in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication.

(5) "And upon her forehead was a name written: Mystery. Babylon the great. The Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth.

(6) "And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her I wondered with a great admiration."


Here follows an interpretation of the vision unintelligible to us, from which we can only emphasize the point that the seven heads [11] of the dragon means the seven hills upon which the woman sits. This is probably a distinct allusion to Rome, the city whose temporal power oppressed the world at the time of the Revelation. The waters upon which the woman "the mother" sits are "peoples and throngs and nations and tongues." This also seems to refer to Rome, for she is the mother of peoples and possessed all lands. Just as in common speech, for example, colonies are called daughters, so the people subject to Rome are like members of a family subject to the mother. In another version of the picture, the kings of the people, namely, the fathers, commit fornication with this mother. Revelation continues (xviii: 2):

(2) "And he cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the Great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird.

(3) "For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication."


Thus this mother does not only become the mother of all abominations, but also in truth the receptacle of all that is wicked and unclean. The birds are images of souls; [12] therefore, this means all souls of the condemned and evil spirits. Thus the mother becomes Hecate, the underworld, the City of the damned itself. We recognize easily in the ancient idea of the woman on the dragon, [13] the above-mentioned representation of Echnida, the mother of the infernal horrors. Babylon is the idea of the "terrible" mother, who seduces all people to whoredom with devilish temptation, and makes them drunk with her wine. The intoxicating drink stands in the closest relation to fornication, for it is also a libido symbol, as we have already seen in the parallel of fire and sun. After the fall and curse of Babylon, we find in Revelation (xix:6-7) the hymn which leads from the under half to the upper half of the mother, where now everything is possible which would be impossible without the repression of incest:

(6) "Alleluia, the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.

(7) "Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honor to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, [14] and his wife hath made herself ready.

(8) "And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.

(9) "And he saith unto me, 'Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb.'"


The Lamb is the son of man who celebrates his marriage with the "woman." Who the "woman" is remains obscure at first. But Revelation (xxi: 9) shows us which "woman" is the bride, the Lamb's wife:

(9) "Come hither, I will show thee the bride, the Lamb's wife. [15]

(10) "And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God."


It is evident from this quotation, after all that goes before, that the City, the heavenly bride, who is here promised to the Son, is the mother. [16] In Babylon the impure maid was cast out, according to the Epistle to the Galatians, so that here in heavenly Jerusalem the mother-bride may be attained the more surely. It bears witness to the most delicate psychologic perception that the fathers of the church who formulated the canons preserved this bit of the symbolic significance of the Christ mystery. It is a treasure house for the phantasies and myth materials which underlie primitive Christianity. [17] The further attributes which were heaped upon the heavenly Jerusalem make its significance as mother overwhelmingly clear:

(1) "And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.

(2) "In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month, and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of nations.

(3) "And there shall be no more curse."


In this quotation we come upon the symbol of the waters, which we found in the mention of Ogyges in connection with the city. The maternal significance of water belongs to the clearest symbolism in the realm of mythology, [18] so that the ancients could say: Image -- Image .[i] From water comes life; [19] therefore, of the two gods which here interest us the most, Christ and Mithra, the latter was born beside a river, according to representations, while Christ experienced his new birth in the Jordan; moreover, he is born from the Image, the "sempiterni fons amoris," the mother of God, who by the heathen-Christian legend was made a nymph of the Spring. The "Sprin" is also found in Mithracism. A Pannonian dedication reads, "Fonti perenni." An inscription in Apulia is dedicated to the "Fons Aeterni." In Persia, Ardvicura is the well of the water of life. Ardvicura-Anahita is a goddess of water and love (just as Aphrodite is born from foam). The neo-Persians designate the Planet Venus and a nubile girl by the name "Nahid." In the temples of Anaitis there existed prostitute Hierodules (harlots). In the Sakaeen (in honor of Anaitis) there, occurred ritual combats as in the festival of the Egyptian Ares and his mother. In the Vedas the waters are called Matritamah -- the most maternal. [20] All that is living rises as does the sun, from the water, and at evening plunges into the water. Born from the springs, the rivers, the seas, at death man arrives at the waters of the Styx in order to enter upon the "night journey on the sea." The wish is that the black water of death might be the water of life; that death, with its cold embrace, might be the mother's womb, just as the sea devours the sun, but brings it forth again out of the maternal womb (Jonah motive [21]). Life believes not in death.

"In the flood of life, in the torrent of deeds, I toss up and down, I am blown to and fro! Cradle and grave, An eternal sea; A changing web, A glowing life." -- Goethe: Faust.


That Image, the wood of life, or the tree of life, is a maternal symbol would seem to follow from the previous deductions. The etymologic connection of Image, Image , in the Indo-Germanic root suggests the blending of the meanings in the underlying symbolism of mother and of generation. The tree of life is probably, first of all, a fruit-bearing genealogical tree, that is, a mother-image. Countless myths prove the derivation of man from trees; many myths show how the hero is enclosed in the maternal tree -- thus dead Osiris in the column, Adonis in the myrtle, etc. Numerous female divinities were worshipped as trees, from which resulted the cult of the holy groves and trees. It is of transparent significance when Attis castrates himself under a pine tree, i.e. he does it because of the mother. Goddesses were often worshipped in the form of a tree or of a wood. Thus Juno of Thespiae was a branch of a tree, Juno of Samos was a board. Juno of Argos was a column. The Carian Diana was an uncut piece of wood. Athene of Lindus was a polished column. Tertullian calls Ceres of Pharos "rudis palus et informe lignum sine effigie." Athenaeus remarks of Latona at Dalos that she is Image , a shapeless piece of wood. [22] Tertullian calls an Attic Pallas "crucis stipes," a wooden pale or mast. The wooden pale is phallic, as the name suggests, Image , Pallus. The Image is a pale, a ceremonial lingam carved out of figwood, as are all Roman statues of Priapus. Image means a projection or centrepiece on the helmet, later called Image , just as Image Image signifies baldheadedness on the forepart of the head, and Image signifies baldheadedness in regard to the Image of the helmet; a semi-phallic meaning is given to the upper part of the head as well. [25] Image has, besides Image , the significance of "wooden" Image , "cylinder" Image "a round beam." The Macedonian battle array, distinguished by its powerful impetus, is called Image; moreover, the finger-joint [24] is called Image Image . or Image is a whale. Now Image appears with the meaning "shining, brilliant." The Indo-Germanic root is bhale = to bulge, to swell. [25] Who does not think of Faust?

"It grows, it shines, increases in my hand!"


That is primitive libido symbolism, which shows how immediate is the connection between phallic libido and light. The same relations are found in the Rigveda in Rudra's utterances.

Rigveda I, 114, 3:

"May we obtain your favor, thou man ruling, Oh urinating Rudra."


I refer here to the previously mentioned phallic symbolism of Rudra in the Upanishads:

(4) "We call for help below to the flaming Rudra, to the one bringing the sacrifice; him who encircles and wanders (wandering in the vault of Heaven) to the seer."

2, 33, 5:

"He who opens up the sweet, who listens to our calls, the ruddy one, with the beautiful helmet, may he not give us over to the powers of jealousy.

(6) "I have been rejoiced by the bull connected with Marut, the supplicating one with strong force of life.

(8) "Sound the powerful song of praise to the ruddy bull to the white shining one; worship the flaming one with honor, we sing of the shining being Rudra.

"May Rudra's missile (arrow) not be used on us, may the great displeasure of the shining one pass us by: Unbend the firm (bow or hard arrow?) for the princes, thou who blessest with the waters of thy body (generative strength), be gracious to our children and grandchildren." [26]


In this way we pass from the realm of mother symbolism imperceptibly into the realm of male phallic symbolism. This element also lies in the tree, even in the family tree, as is distinctly shown by the mediaeval family trees. From the first ancestor there grows upward, in the place of the "membrum virile," the trunk of the great tree. The bisexual symbolic character of the tree is intimated by the fact that in Latin trees have a masculine termination and a feminine gender. [27] The feminine (especially the maternal) meaning of the forest and the phallic significance of trees in dreams is well known. I mention an example.

It concerns a woman who had always been nervous, and who, after many years of marriage, became ill as a result of the typical retention of the libido. She had the following dream after she had learned to know a young man of many engaging free opinions who was very pleasing to her: She found herself in a garden where stood a remarkable exotic tree with strange red fleshy flowers or fruits. She picked them and ate them. Then, to her horror, she felt that she was poisoned. This dream idea may easily be understood by means of the antique or poetic symbolism, so I can spare information as to the analytic material.

The double significance of the tree is readily explained by the fact that such symbols are not to be understood "anatomically" but psychologically as libido symbols; therefore, it is not permissible to interpret the tree on account of its similar form as directly phallic; it can also be called a woman or the uterus of the mother. The uniformity of the significance lies alone in the similarity to the libido. [28] One loses one's way in one "cul de sac" after another by saying that this is the symbol substituted for the mother and that for the penis. In this realm there is no fixed significance of things. The only reality here is the libido, for which "all that is perishable is merely a symbol." It is not the physical actual mother, but the libido of the son, the object of which was once the mother. We take mythologic symbols much too concretely and wonder at every step about the endless con tradictions. These contradictions arise only because we constantly forget that in the realm of phantasy "feeling is all." Whenever we read, therefore, "his mother was a wicked sorcerer," the translation is as follows: The son is in love with her, namely, he is unable to detach his libido from the mother-imago; he therefore suffers from incestuous resistance.

The symbolism of water and trees, which are met with as further attributes in the symbol of the City, also refer to that amount of libido which unconsciously is fastened to the mother-imago. In certain parts of Revelation the unconscious psychology of religious longing is revealed, namely, the longing for the mother. [29] The expectation of Revelation ends in the mother: Image Image . ("and there shall be no more curse"). There shall be no more sins, no repression, no disharmony with one's self, no guilt, no fear of death and no pain of separation more!

Thus Revelation echoes that same radiant mystical harmony which was caught again 2,000 years later and expressed poetically in the last prayer of Dr. Marianus:

"Penitents, look up, elate, Where she beams salvation; Gratefully to blessed fate Grow, in recreation! Be our souls, as they have been, Dedicate to thee! Virgin Holy, Mother, Queen, Goddess, gracious be!" -

- Goethe: Faust.


One principal question arises at the sight of this beauty and greatness of feeling, that is, whether the primary tendency compensated by religion is not too narrowly understood as incestuous. I have previously observed in regard to this that I consider the "resistance opposed to libido" as in a general way coincident with the incest prohibition. I must leave open for the present the definition of the psychological incest conception. However, I will here emphasize the point that it is most especially the totality of the sun myth which proves to us that the fundamental basis of the "incestuous" desire does not aim at cohabitation, but at the special thought of becoming a child again, of turning back to the parent's protection, of coming into the mother once more in order to be born again. But incest stands in the path to this goal, that is to say, the necessity of in some way again gaining entrance into the mother's womb. One of the simplest ways would be to impregnate the mother, and to reproduce one's self identically. But here the incest prohibition interferes; therefore, the myths of the sun or of rebirth teem with all possible proposals as to how incest can be evaded. A very simple method of avoidance is to transform the mother into another being or to rejuvenate [30] her after birth has occurred, to have her disappear again or have her change back. It is not incestuous cohabitation which is desired, but the rebirth, which now is attained most readily through cohabitation. But this is not the only way, although perhaps the original one. The resistance to the incest prohibition makes the phantasy inventive; for example, it was attempted to impregnate the mother by means of a magic charm of fertility (to wish for a child). Attempts in this respect remain in the stage of mythical phantasies; but they have one result, and that is the exercise of the phantasy which gradually produces paths through the creation of phantastic possibilities, in which the libido, taking an active part, can flow off. Thus the libido becomes spiritualized in an imperceptible manner. The power "which always wishes evil" thus creates a spiritual life. Therefore, in religions, this course is now raised to a system. On that account it is exceedingly instructive to see how religion takes pains to further these symbolic transferences. [31] The New Testament furnishes us with an excellent example in regard to this. Nicodemus, in the speech regarding rebirth, cannot forbear understanding the matter very realistically.

John iii: 4:

(4) "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb, and be born?"


But Jesus endeavors to raise into purity the sensuous view of Nicodemus's mind moulded in materialistic heaviness, and announces to him -- really the same -- and yet not the same:

(5) "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.

(6) "That which is born of the flesh is flesh: and that which is born of the spirit is spirit.

(7) "Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again.

(8) "The wind bloweth wh
ere it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth; so is everyone that is born of the spirit."

To be born of water means simply to be born from the mother's womb. To be born of the spirit means to be born from the fructifying breath of the wind; this we learn from the Greek text (where spirit and wind are expressed by the same word, Image Image Image [ii] etc.

This symbolism rose from the same need as that which produced the Egyptian legend of the vultures, the mother symbol. They were only females and were fertilized by the wind. One recognizes very clearly the ethical demand as the foundation of these mythologic assertions: thou must say of the mother that she was not Impregnated by a mortal in the ordinary way, but by a spiritual being in an unusual manner. This demand stands in strict opposition to the real truth; therefore, the myth is a fitting solution. One can say it was a hero who died and was born again in a remarkable manner, and in this way attained immortality. The need which this demand asserts is evidently a prohibition against a definite phantasy concerning the mother. A son may naturally think that a father has generated him in a carnal way, but not that he himself impregnated the mother and so caused himself to be born again into renewed youth. This incestuous phantasy which for some reason possesses an extraordinary strength, [32] and, therefore, appears as a compulsory wish, is repressed and, conforming to the above demand, under certain conditions, expresses itself again, symbolically, concerning the problem of birth, or rather concerning individual rebirth from the mother. In Jesus's challenge to Nicodemus we clearly recognize this tendency: "Think not carnally or thou art carnal, but think symbolically, then art thou spirit." It is evident how extremely educative and developing this compulsion toward symbolism can be. Nicodemus would remain fixed in low commonplaces if he did not succeed in raising himself through symbols above this repressed incestuous desire. As a righteous philistine of culture, he probably was not very anxious for this effort, because men seem really to remain satisfied in repressing the incestuous libido, and at best to express it by some modest religious exercises. Yet it seems to be important, on the other side, that man should not merely renounce and. repress and thereby remain firmly fixed in the incestuous bond, but that he should redeem those dynamic forces which lie bound up in incest, in order to fulfil himself. For man needs his whole libido, to fill out the boundaries of his personality, and then, for the first time, he is in a condition to do his best. The paths by which man may manifest his incestuously fixed libido seem to have been pointed out by the religious mythologic symbols. On this account Jesus teaches Nicodemus: "Thou thinkest of thy incestuous wish for rebirth, but thou must think that thou art born from the water and that thou art generated by the breath of the wind, [33] and in this way thou shalt share in eternal life."
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 4:09 am

Part 2 of 2

Thus the libido which lies inactive in the incestuous bond repressed and in fear of the law and the avenging Father God can be led over into sublimation through the symbol of baptism (birth from water) and of generation (spiritual birth) through the symbol of the descent of the Holy Ghost. Thus man becomes a child [34] again and is born into a circle of brothers and sisters; but his mother is the "communion of the saints," the church, and his circle of brothers and sisters is humanity, with whom he is united anew in the common inheritance of the primitive symbol.

It seems that at the time in which Christianity had its origin this process was especially necessary; for that period, as the result of the incredible contrast between slavery and the freedom of the citizens and masters, had entirely lost the consciousness of the common bond of mankind. One of the next and most essential reasons for the energetic regression to the infantile in Christianity, which goes hand in hand with the revival of the incest problem, was probably to be found in the far-reaching depreciation of women. At that time sexuality was so easily attainable that the result could only be a very excessive depreciation of the sexual object. The existence of personal values was first discovered by Christianity, and there are many people who have not discovered it even in the present day. However, the depreciation of the sexual object hinders the outflow of that libido which cannot be satisfied by sexual activity, because it belongs to an already desexualized higher order. (If it were not so, a Don Juan could never be neurotic; but the contrary is the case.) For how might those higher valuations be given to a worthless, despised object? Therefore, the libido, after having seen a "Helen in every woman" for so long a time, sets out on a search for the difficult to obtain, the worshipped, but perhaps unattainable, goal, and which in the unconscious is the mother. Therefore the symbolic needs, based on the incest resistance, arise again in an increased degree, which promptly transforms the beautiful, sinful world of the Olympian Gods into incomprehensible, dreamlike, dark mysteries, which, with their accessions of symbols and obscure meaningful texts, remove us very far from the religious feelings of that Roman-Graeco world. When we see how much trouble Jesus took to make acceptable to Nicodemus the symbolic perception of things, that is to say, really a repression and veiling over of the actual facts, and how important it was for the history of civilization in general, that people thought and still think in this way, then we understand the revolt which is raised everywhere against the psychologic discovery of the true background of the neurotic or normal symbolism. Always and everywhere we encounter the odious realm of sexuality, which represents to all righteous people of to-day something defiled. However, less than 2,000 years have passed since the religious cult of sexuality was more or less openly in full bloom. To be sure, they were heathen and did not know better, but the nature of religious power does not change from cycle to cycle. If one has once received an effectual impression of the sexual contents of the ancient cults, and if one realizes oneself that the religious experience, that is, the union [35] with the God of antiquity, was understood by antiquity as a more or less concrete coitus, then truly one can no longer fancy that the motor forces of a religion have suddenly become wholly different since the birth of Christ. Exactly the same thing has occurred as with the hysteric who at first indulges in some quite unbeautiful, infantile sexual manifestations and afterwards develops a hyperaesthetic negation in order to convince every one of his special purity. Christianity, with its repression of the manifest sexual, is the negative of the ancient sexual cult. The original cult has changed its tokens. [36] One only needs to realize how much of the gay paganism, even to the inclusion of unseemly Gods, has been taken into the Christian church. Thus the old indecent Priapus celebrated a gay festival of resurrection in St. Tychon. [37] Also partly in the physicians Sts. Kosma and Damien, who graciously condescended to accept the "membra virilia" in wax at their festival. [38] St. Phallus of old memories emerges again to be worshipped in country chapels, to say nothing of the rest of the paganism!

There are those who have not yet learned to recognize sexuality as a function equivalent to hunger and who, therefore, consider it as disgraceful that certain taboo institutions which were considered as asexual refuges are now recognized as overflowing with sexual symbolism. Those people are doomed to the painful realization that such is still the case, in spite of their great revolt. One must learn to understand that, opposed to the customary habit of thought, psychoanalytic thinking reduces and resolves those symbolic structures which have become more and more complicated through countless elaboration. This means a course of reduction which would be an intellectual enjoyment if the object were different. But here it becomes distressing, not only aesthetically, but apparently also ethically, because the repressions which are to be overcome have been brought about by our best intentions. We must commence to overcome our virtuousness with the certain fear of falling into baseness on the other side. This is certainly true, for virtuousness is always inwardly compensated by a great tendency towards baseness; and how many profligates are there who inwardly preserve a mawkish virtue and moral megalomania? Both categories of men turn out to be snobs when they come in contact with analytic psychology, because the moral man has imagined an objective and cheap verdict on sexuality and the unmoral man is entirely unaware of the vulgarity of his sexuality and of his incapacity for an unselfish love. One completely forgets that one can most miserably be carried away, not only by a vice, but also by a virtue. There is a fanatic orgiastic self-righteousness which is just as base and which entails just as much injustice and violence as a vice.

At this time, when a large part of mankind is beginning to discard Christianity, it is worth while to understand clearly why it was originally accepted. It was accepted in order to escape at last from the brutality of antiquity. As soon as we discard it, licentiousness returns, as impressively exemplified by life in our large modern cities. This step is not a forward step, but a backward one. It is as with individuals who have laid aside one form of transference and have no new one. Without fail they will occupy regressively the old path of transference, to their great detriment, because the world around them has since then essentially changed. He who is repelled by the historical and philosophical weakness of the Christian dogmatism and the religious emptiness of an historical Jesus, of whose person we know nothing and whose religious value is partly Talmudic, partly Hellenic wisdom, and discards Christianity, and therewith Christian morality, is certainly confronted with the ancient problem of licentiousness. Today the individual still feels himself restrained by the public hypo-critical opinion, and, therefore, prefers to lead a secret, separate life, but publicly to represent morality. It might be different if men in general all at once found the moral mask too dull, and if they realized how dangerously their beasts lie in wait for each other, and then truly a frenzy of demoralization might sweep over humanity. This is the dream, the wish dream, of the morally limited man of today; he forgets necessity, which strangles men and robs them of their breath, and which with a stern hand interrupts every passion.

It must not be imputed to me that I am wishing to refer the libido back by analytical reduction to the primitive, almost conquered, stages, entirely forgetting the fearful misery this would entail for humanity. Indeed, some individuals would let themselves be transported by the old-time frenzy of sexuality, from which the burden of guilt has been removed, to their own greatest detriment.

But these are the ones who under other circumstances would have prematurely perished in some other way. However, I well know the most effectual and most inexorable regulator of human sexuality. This is necessity. With this leaden weight human lust will never fly too high.

To-day there are countless neurotics who are so simply because they do not know how to seek happiness in their own manner. They do not even realize where the lack lies. And besides these neurotics there are many more normal people -- and precisely people of the higher type -- who feel restricted and discontented. For all these reduction to the sexual elements should be undertaken, in order that they may be reinstated into the possession of their primitive self, and thereby learn to know and value its relation to the entire personality. In this way alone can certain requirements be fulfilled and others be repudiated as unfit because of their infantile character. In this way the individual will come to realize that certain things are to be sacrificed, although they are accomplished, but in another sphere. We imagine that we have long renounced, sacrificed and cut off our incest wish, and that nothing of it is left. But it does not occur to us that this is not true, but that we unconsciously commit incest in another territory. In religious symbols, for example, we come across incest. [39] We consider the incestuous wish vanished and lost, and then rediscover it in full force in religion. This process or transformation has taken place unconsciously in secular development. Just as in Part I it is shown that a similar unconscious transformation of the libido is an ethically worthless pose, and with which I compared the Christianity of early Roman antiquity, where evidently licentiousness and brutality were strongly resisted, so here I must remark in regard to the sublimation of the incestuous libido, that the belief in the religious symbol has ceased to be an ethical ideal: but it is an unconscious transformation of the incest wish into symbolic acts and symbolic concepts which cheat men, as it were, so that heaven appears to them as a father and earth as a mother and the people upon it children and brothers and sisters. Thus man can remain a child for all time and satisfy his incest wish all unawares. This state would doubtless be ideal [40] if it were not infantile and, there fore, merely a one-sided wish, which maintains a childish attitude. The reverse is anxiety. Much is said of pious people who remain unshaken in their trust in God and wander unswervingly safe and blessed through the world. I have never seen this Chidher yet. It is probably a wish figure. The rule is great uncertainty among believers, which they drown with fanatical cries among themselves or among others; moreover, they have religious doubts, moral uncertainty, doubts of their own personality, feelings of guilt and, deepest of all, great fear of the opposite aspect of reality, against which the most highly intelligent people struggle with all their force. This other side is the devil, the adversary or, expressed in modern terms, the corrective of reality, of the infantile world picture, which has been made acceptable through the predominating pleasure principle. [41] But the world is not a garden of God, of the Father, but a place of terrors. Not only is heaven no father and earth no mother and the people not brothers nor sisters, but they represent hostile, destroying powers, to which we are abandoned the more surely, the more childishly and thoughtlessly we have entrusted ourselves to the so-called Fatherly hand of God. One should never forget the harsh speech of the first Napoleon, that the good God is always on the side of the heaviest artillery.

The religious myth meets us here as one of the greatest and most significant human institutions which, despite misleading symbols, nevertheless gives man assurance and strength, so that he may not be overwhelmed by the monsters of the universe. The symbol, considered from the standpoint of actual truth, is misleading, indeed, but it is psychologically true, [42] because it was and is the bridge to all the greatest achievements of humanity.

But this does not mean to say that this unconscious way of transformation of the incest wish into religious exercises is the only one or the only possible one. There is also a conscious recognition and understanding with which we can take possession of this libido which is bound up in incest and transformed into religious exercises so that we no longer need the stage of religious symbolism for this end. It is thinkable that instead of doing good to our fellow-men, for "the love of Christ," we do it from the knowledge that humanity, even as ourselves, could not exist if, among the herd, the one could not sacrifice himself for the other. This would be the course of moral autonomy, of perfect freedom, when man could without compulsion wish that which he must do, and this from knowledge, without delusion through belief in the religious symbols.

It is a positive creed which keeps us infantile and, therefore, ethically inferior. Although of the greatest significance from the cultural point of view and of imperishable beauty from the aesthetic standpoint, this delusion can no longer ethically suffice humanity striving after moral autonomy.

The infantile and moral danger lies in belief in the symbol because through that we guide the libido to an imaginary reality. The simple negation of the symbol changes nothing, for the entire mental disposition remains the same; we merely remove the dangerous object. But the object is not dangerous; the danger is our own infantile mental state, for love of which we have lost something very beautiful and ingenious through the simple abandonment of the religious symbol. I think belief should be replaced by understanding; then we would keep the beauty of the symbol, but still remain free from the depressing results of submission to belief. This would be the psychoanalytic cure for belief and disbelief.

***

The vision following upon that of the city is that of a "strange fir tree with gnarled branches." This vision does not seem extraordinary to us after all that we have learned of the tree of life and its associations with the city and the waters of life. This especial tree seems simply to continue the category of the mother symbols. The attribute "strange" probably signifies, as in dreams, a special emphasis, that is, a special underlying complex material. Unfortunately, the author gives us no individual material for this. As the tree already suggested in the symbolism of the city is particularly emphasized through the further development of Miss Miller's visions here, I find it necessary to discuss at some length the history of the symbolism of the tree.

It is well known that trees have played a large part in the cult myth from the remotest times. The typical myth tree is the tree of paradise or of life which we discover abundantly used in Babylonian and also in Jewish lore; and in prechristian times, the pine tree of Attis, the tree or trees of Mithra; in Germanic mythology, Ygdrasil and so on. The hanging of the Attis image on the pine tree; the hanging of Marsyas, which became a celebrated artistic motiv; the hanging of Odin; the Germanic hanging sacrifices -- indeed, the whole series of hanged gods -- teaches us that the hanging of Christ on the cross is not a unique occurrence in religious mythology, but belongs to the same circle of ideas as others. In this world of imagery the cross of Christ is the tree of life, and equally the wood of death. This contrast is not astounding. Just as the origin of man from trees was a legendary idea, so there were also burial customs, in which people were buried in hollow trees. From that the German language retains even now the expression "Totenbaum" (tree of death) for a coffin. Keeping in mind the fact that the tree is predominantly a mother symbol, then the mystic significance of this manner of burial can be in no way incomprehensible to us. The dead are delivered back to the mother for rebirth. We encounter this symbol in the Osiris myth, handed down by Plutarch, [43] which is, in general, typical in various aspects. Rhea is pregnant with Osiris; at the same time also with Isis; Osiris and Isis mate even in the mother's womb (motive of the night journey on the sea with incest). Their son is Arueris, later called Horus. It is said of Isis that she was born "in absolute humidity" (Image Image [iii]). It is said of Osiris that a certain Pamyles in Thebes heard a voice from the temple of Zeus while drawing water, which commanded him to proclaim that Osiris was born Image [iv] In honor of this the Pamylion were celebrated. They were similar to the phallophorion. Pamyles is a phallic 'demon, similar to the original Dionysus. The myth reduced reads: Osiris and Isis were generated by phallus from the water (mother womb) in the ordinary manner. (Kronos had made Rhea pregnant, the relation was secret, and Rhea was his sister. Helios, however, observed it and cursed the relation.) Osiris was killed in a crafty manner by the god of the underworld, Typhon, who locked him in a chest. He was thrown into the Nile, and so carried out to sea. Osiris, however, mated in the underworld with his second sister, Nephthys (motive of the night journey to the sea with incest). One sees here how the symbolism is developed. In the mother womb, before the outward existence, Osiris commits incest; in death, the second intrauterine existence, Osiris again commits incest. Both times with a sister who is simply substituted for the mother as a legal, uncensured symbol, since the marriage with a sister in early antiquity was not merely tolerated, but was really commended. Zarathustra also recommended the marriage of kindred. This form of myth would be impossible to-day, because cohabitation with the sister, being incestuous, would be repressed. The wicked Typhon entices Osiris craftily into a box or chest; this distortion of the true state of affairs is transparent. The "original sin" caused men to wish to go back into the mother again, that is, the incestuous desire for the mother, condemned by law, is the ruse supposedly invented by Typhon. The fact is, the ruse is very significant. Man tries to sneak into rebirth through subterfuge in order to become a child again. An early Egyptian hymn [44] even raises an accusation against the mother Isis because she destroys the sun-god Re by treachery. It was interpreted as the ill-will of the mother towards her son that she banished and betrayed him. The hymn describes how Isis fashioned a snake, put it in the path of Re, and how the snake wounded the sun-god with a poisonous bite, from which wound he never recovered, so that finally he had to retire on the back of the heavenly cow. But this cow is the cow-headed goddess, just as Osiris is the bull Apis. The mother is accused as if she were the cause of man flying to the mother in order to be cured of the wound which she had herself inflicted. This wound is the prohibition of incest. [45] Man is thus cut off from the hopeful certainty of childhood and early youth, from all the unconscious, instinctive happenings which permit the child to live as an appendage of his parents, unconscious of himself. There must be contained in this many sensitive memories of the animal age, where there was not any "thou shalt" and "thou shalt not," but all was just simple occurrence. Even yet a deep animosity seems to live in man because a brutal law has separated him from the instinctive yielding to his desires and from the great beauty of the harmony of the animal nature. This separation manifested itself, among other things, in the incest prohibition and its correlates (laws of marriage, etc.); therefore pain and anger relate to the mother, as if she were responsible for the domestication of the sons of men. In order not to become conscious of his incest wish (his backward harking to the animal nature), the son throws all the burden of the guilt on the mother, from which arises the idea of the "terrible mother." [46] The mother becomes for him a spectre of anxiety, a nightmare. [47]

After the completed "night journey to the sea," the chest of Osiris was cast ashore by Byblos, and lay in the branches of an Erica, which grew around the coffin and became a splendid tree. The king of the land had the tree placed as a column under his roof. [48] During this period of Osiris's absence (the winter solstice) the lament customary during thousands of years for the dead god and his return occurs, and its Image is a feast of joy. A passage from the mournful quest of Isis is especially noteworthy:

"She flutters like a swallow lamenting around the column, which encloses the god sleeping in death."


(This same motive returns in the Kyffhauser saga.)

Later on Typhon dismembers the corpse and scatters the pieces. We come upon the motive of dismemberment in countless sun myths, [49] namely, the inversion of the idea of the composition of the child in the mother's womb. [50] In fact, the mother Isis collects the pieces of the body with the help of the jackal-headed Anubis. (She finds the corpse with the help of dogs.) Here the nocturnal devourers of bodies, the dogs and jackals, become the assistants of the composition, of the reproduction. [51] The Egyptian vulture owes its symbolic meaning as mother to this necrophagic habit. In Persian antiquity the corpses were thrown out for the dogs to devour, just as to-day in the Indian funeral pyres the removal of the carcasses is left to the vultures. Persia was familiar with the custom of leading a dog to the bed of one dying, whereupon the latter had to present the dog with a morsel. [52] The custom, on its surface, evidently signifies that the morsel is to belong to the dog, so that he will spare the body of the dead, precisely as Cerberus was soothed by the honey-cakes which Hercules gave to him in the journey to hell. But when we bear in mind the jackal-headed Anubis who rendered his good services in the gathering together of the dismembered Osiris, and the mother significance of the vulture, then the question arises whether something deeper was not meant by this ceremony. Creuzer has also concerned himself with this idea, and has come to the conclusion that the astral form of the dog ceremony, that is, the appearance of Sirius, the dog star, at the period of the sun's highest position, is related to this in that the introduction of the dog has a compensatory significance, death being thereby made, reversedly, equal to the sun's highest position. This is quite in conformity with psychologic thought, which results from the very general fact that death is interpreted as entrance into the mother's womb (rebirth). This interpretation would seem to be supported by the otherwise enigmatic function of the dog in the Sacrificium Mithriacum. In the monuments a dog always leaps up upon the bull killed by Mithra. However, this sacrifice is probably to be interpreted through the Persian legend, as well as through the monument, as the moment of the highest fecundity. The most beautiful expression of this is seen upon the magnificent Mithra relief of Heddernheim. Upon one side of a large stone slab (formerly probably rotating) is seen the stereotyped overthrowing and sacrifice of the bull, but upon the other side stands Sol, with a bunch of grapes in his hand, Mithra with the cornucopia, the Dadophores with fruits, corresponding to the legend that all fecundity proceeds from the dead bull of the world, fruits from the horns, wine from its blood, grain from the tail, cattle from its sperma, leek from its nose, and so on. Silvanus stands above this scene with the animals of the forest arising from him. The significance suspected by Creuzer might very easily belong to the dog in this connection. [53] Let us now turn back to the myth of Osiris. In spite of the restoration of the corpse accomplished by Isis, the resuscitation succeeds only incompletely in so far as the phallus of Osiris cannot again be produced, because it was eaten by the fishes; the power of life was wanting. [54] Osiris as a phantom once more impregnated Isis, but the fruit is Harpocrates, who was feeble in Image (in the lower limbs), that is, corresponding to the significance of Image (at the feet). (Here, as is plainly evident, foot is used in the phallic meaning.) This incurability of the setting-sun corresponds to the incurability of Re in the above-mentioned older Egyptian sun hymn. Osiris, although only a phantom, now prepares the young sun, his son Horus, for a battle with Typhon, the evil spirit of darkness. Osiris and Horus correspond to the father-son symbolism mentioned in the beginning, which symbolic figure, corresponding again to the above formulation, [55] is flanked by the well-formed and ugly figures of Horus and Harpocrates, the latter appearing mostly as a cripple, often represented distorted to a mere caricature. [56]

Image
FRUCTIFICATION FOLLOWING UPON THE MITHRAIC SACRIFICE

He is confused in the tradition very much with Horus, with whom he also has the name in common. Hor-pi-chrud, as his real name [57] reads, is composed from chrud, "child," and Hor, from the adjective hri = up, on top, and signifies the up-coming child, as the rising sun, and opposed to Osiris, who personifies the setting sun -- the sun of the west. Thus Osiris and Horpichrud or Horus are one being, both husband and son of the same mother, Hathor-Isis. The Chnum-Ra, the sun god of lower Egypt, represented as a ram, has at his side, as the female divinity of the land, Hatmehit, who wears the fish on her head. She is the mother and wife of Bi-neb-did (Ram, local name of Chnum-Ra). In the hymn of Hibis, [58] Amon-ra was invoked:

"Thy (Chum-Ram) dwells in Mendes, united as the quadruple god Thmuis. He is the phallus, the lord of the gods. The bull of his mother rejoices in the cow (ahet, the mother) and man fructifies through his semen."


In further inscriptions Hatmehit was directly referred to as the " mother of Mendes." (Mendes is the Greek form of Bi-neb-did: ram.) She is also invoked as the "Good," with the additional significance of ta-nofert, or "young woman." The cow as symbol of the mother is found in all possible forms and variations of Hathor-Isis, and also in the female Nun (parallel to this is the primitive goddess Nit or Neith), the protoplasm which, related to the Hindoo Atman, [59] is equally of masculine and feminine nature. Nun is, therefore, invoked as Amon, [60] the original water, [61] which is in the beginning. He is also designated as the father of fathers, the mother of mothers. To this corresponds the invocation to the female side of Nun-Amon, of Nit or Neith.

"Nit, the ancient, the mother of god, the mistress of Esne, the father of fathers, the mother of mothers, who is the beetle and the vulture, the being in its beginning.

"Nit, the ancient, the mother who bore the light god, Ra, who bore first of all, when there was nothing which brought forth.

"The cow, the ancient, which bore the sun, and then laid the germ of gods and men."


The word "nun" has the significance of young, fresh, new, also the on-coming waters of the Nile flood. In a transferred sense "nun" was also used for the chaotic primitive waters; in general for the primitive generating matter [62] which was personified by the goddess Nunet. From her Nut sprang, the goddess of heaven, who was represented with a starry body, and also as the heavenly cow with a starry body.

When the sun-god, little by little, retires on the back of the heavenly cow, just as poor Lazarus returns into Abraham's bosom, each has the same significance; they return into the mother, in order to rise as Horus. Thus it can be said that in the morning the goddess is the mother, at noon the sister-wife and in the evening again the mother, who receives the dying in her lap, reminding us of the Pieta of Michelangelo. As shown by the illustration (from Dideron's "Iconographie Chretienne"), this thought has been transferred as a whole into Christianity.

Thus the fate of Osiris is explained: he passes into the mother's womb, the chest, the sea, the tree, the column of Astartes; he is dismembered, re-formed, and reappears again in his son, Hor-pi-chrud.

Before entering upon the further mysteries which the beautiful myth reveals to us, there is still much to be said about the symbol of the tree. Osiris lies in the branches of the tree, surrounded by them, as in the mother's womb. The motive of embracing and entwining is often found in the sun myths, meaning that it is the myth of rebirth. A good example is the Sleeping Beauty, also the legend of the girl who is enclosed between the bark and the trunk, but who is freed by a youth with his horn. [63] The horn is of gold and silver, which hints at the sunbeam in the phallic meaning. (Compare the previous legend of the horn.) An exotic legend tells of the sun-hero, how he must be freed from the plant entwining around him. [64] A girl dreams of her lover who has fallen into the water; she tries to save him, but first has to pull seaweed and sea-grass from the water; then she catches him. In an African myth the hero, after his act, must first be disentangled from the seaweed. In a Polynesian myth the hero's ship was encoiled by the tentacles of a gigantic polyp. Re's ship is encoiled by a night serpent on its night journey on the sea. In the poetic rendering of the history of Buddha's birth by Sir Edwin Arnold ("The Light of Asia," p. 5) the motive of an embrace is also found:

"Queen Maya stood at noon, her days fulfilled, Under a Palso in the palace grounds, A stately trunk, straight as a temple shaft, With crown of glossy leaves and fragrant blooms; And knowing the time come -- for all things knew -- The conscious tree bent down its boughs to make A bower about Queen Maya's majesty: And earth put forth a thousand sudden flowers To spread a couch: while ready for the bath The rock hard by gave out a limpid stream Of crystal flow. So brought she forth the child." [65]


We come across a very similar motive in the cult legend of the Samian Hera. Yearly it was claimed that the image disappeared from the temple, was fastened somewhere on the seashore on a trunk of a Lygos tree and wound about with its branches. There it was "found," and was treated with wedding-cake. This feast is undoubtedly a Image (ritual marriage), because in Samos there was a legend that Zeus had first had a long-continued secret love relation with Hera. In Plataea and Argos, the marriage procession was represented with bridesmaids, marriage feast, and so on. The festival took place in the wedding month Image (beginning of February). But in Plataea the image was previously carried into a lonely place in the wood; approximately corresponding to the legend of Plutarch that Zeus had kidnapped Hera and then had hidden her in a cave of Cithaeron. According to our deductions, previously made, we must conclude from this that there is still another train of thought, namely, the magic charm of rejuvenation, which is condensed in the Hierosgamos. The disappearance and hiding in the wood, in the cave, on the seashore, entwined in a willow tree, points to the death of the sun and rebirth. The early springtime Image (the time of Marriage) in February fits in with that very well. In fact, Pausanias informs us that the Argivan Hera became a maiden again by a yearly bath in the spring of Canathos. The significance of the bath is emphasized by the information that in the Plataeian cult of Hera Teleia, Tritonian nymphs appeared as water-carriers. In a tale from the Iliad, where the conjugal couch of Zeus upon Mount Ida is described, it is said: [66]

"The son of Saturn spake, and took his wife Into his arms, while underneath the pair, The sacred Earth threw up her freshest herbs: The dewy lotos, and the crocus-flower, And thick and soft the hyacinth. All these Upbore them from the ground. Upon this couch They lay, while o'er them a bright golden cloud Gathered and shed its drops of glistening dew. So slumbered on the heights of Gargarus The All-Father overcome by sleep and love, And held his consort in his arms."

-- Trans, by W. C. Bryant.


Drexler recognizes in this description an unmistakable allusion to the garden of the gods on the extreme western shore of the ocean, an idea which might have been taken from a Prehomeric Hierosgamos hymn. This western land is the land of the setting sun, whither Hercules, Gilgamesh, etc., hasten with the sun, in order to find there immortality, where the sun and the maternal sea unite in an eternally rejuvenating intercourse. Our supposition of a condensation of the Hierosgamos with the myth of rebirth is probably confirmed by this. Pausanias mentions a related myth fragment where the statue of Artemis Orthia is also called Lygodesma (chained with willows), because it was found in a willow tree; this tale seems to be related to the general Greek celebration of Hierosgamos with the above-mentioned customs. [67]

The motive of the "devouring" which Frobenius has shown to be a regular constituent of the sun myths is closely related to this (also metaphorically). The "whale dragon" (mother's womb) always "devours" the hero. The devouring may also be partial instead of complete.

A six-year-old girl, who goes to school unwillingly, dreams that her leg is encircled by a large red worm. She had a tender interest for this creature, contrary to what might be expected. An adult patient, who cannot separate from an older friend on account of an extraordinarily strong mother transference, dreams that "she had to get across some deep water (typical idea!) with this friend; her friend fell in (mother transference); she tries to drag her out, and almost succeeds, but a large crab seizes on the dreamer by the foot and tries to pull her in."

Etymology also confirms this conception: There is an Indo-Germanic root velu-, vel-, with the meaning of "encircling, surrounding, turning." From this is derived Sanskrit val, valati = to cover, to surround, to encircle, to encoil (symbol of the snake); valli = creeping plant; uluta = boa-constrictor = Latin volutus, Lithuanian velu, velti = wickeln (to roll up); Church Slavonian vlina = Old High German, wella = Welle (wave or billow). To the root velu also belongs the root vlvo, with the meaning "cover, corium, womb." (The serpent on account of its casting its skin is an excellent symbol of rebirth.) Sanskrit ulva, ulba has the same meaning; Latin volva, volvula, vulva. To velu also belongs the root ulvora, with the meaning of "fruitful field, covering or husk of plants, sheath." Sanskrit urvara = sown field. Zend urvara = plant. (See the personification of the ploughed furrow.) The same root vel has also the meaning of "wallen " (to undulate). Sanskrit ulmuka = conflagration. Image Gothic vulan = wallen (to undulate). Old High German and Middle High German walm = heat, glow. [68] It is typical that in the state of "involution" the hair of the sun-hero always falls out from the heat. Further the root vel is found with the meaning "to sound, [69] and to will, to wish" (libido!).

The motive of encoiling is mother symbolism. [70] This is verified by the fact that the trees, for example, bring forth again (like the whale in the legend of Jonah). They do that very generally, thus in the Greek legend the Image [v] of the ash trees are the mothers of the race of men of the Iron Age. In northern mythology, Askr, the ash tree, is the primitive father. His wife, Embla, is the "Emsige," the active one, and not, as was earlier believed, the aspen. Askr probably means, in the first place, the phallic spear of the ash tree. (Compare the Sabine custom of parting the bride's hair with the lance.) The Bundehesh symbolizes the first people, Meschia and Meschiane, as the tree Reivas, one part of which places a branch in a hole of the other part. The material which, according to the northern myth, was animated by the god when he created men [71] is designated as Image = wood, tree. [72] I recall also Image = wood, which in Latin is called materia. In the wood of the "world-ash," Ygdrasil, a human pair hid themselves at the end of the world, from whom sprang the race of the renewed world. [73] The Noah motive is easily recognized in this conception (the night journey on the sea); at the same time, in the symbol of Ygdrasil, a mother idea is again apparent. At the moment of the destruction of the world the "world-ash" becomes the guardian mother, the tree of death and life, one Image [vi] [74] This function of rebirth of the "world-ash" also helps to elucidate the representation met with in the Egyptian Book of the Dead, which is called "the gate of knowledge of the soul of the Eas":

"I am the pilot in the holy keel, I am the steersman who allows no rest in the ship of Ra. [76] I know that tree of emerald green from whose midst Ra rises to the height of the clouds." [76]


Ship and tree of the dead (death ship and death tree) are here closely connected. The conception is that Ra, born from the tree, ascends (Osiris in the Erika). The representation of the sun-god Mithra is probably explained in the same way. He is represented upon the Heddernheim relief, with half his body arising from the top of a tree. (In the same way numerous other monuments show Mithra half embodied in the rock, and illustrate a rock birth, similar to Men.) Frequently there is a stream near the birthplace of Mithra. This conglomeration of symbols is also found in the birth of Aschanes, the first Saxon king, who grew from the Harz rocks, which are in the midst of the wood [77] near a fountain. [78] Here we find all the mother symbols united -- earth, wood, water, three forms of tangible matter. We can wonder no longer that in the Middle Ages the tree was poetically addressed with the title of honor, "mistress." Likewise it is not astonishing that the Christian legend transformed the tree of death, the cross, into the tree of life, so that Christ was often represented on a living and fruit-bearing tree. This reversion of the cross symbol to the tree of life, which even in Babylon was an important and authentic religious symbol, is also considered entirely probable by Zockler, [79] an authority on the history of the cross. The pre-Christian meaning of the symbol does not contradict this interpretation; on the contrary, its meaning is life. The appearance of the cross in the sun worship (here the cross with equal arms, and the swastika cross, as representative of the sun's rays), as well as in the cult of the goddess of love (Isis with the crux ansata, the rope, the speculum veneris Image, etc.), in no way contradicts the previous historical meaning. The Christian legend has made abundant use of this symbolism.

Image
CHRIST ON THE TREE OF LIFE

The student of mediaeval history is familiar with the representation of the cross growing above the grave of Adam. The legend was that Adam was buried on Golgotha. Seth had planted on his grave a branch of the "paradise tree," which became the cross and tree of death of Christ. [80] We all know that through Adam's guilt sin and death came into the world, and Christ through his death has redeemed us from the guilt. To the question in what had Adam's guilt consisted it is said that the unpardonable sin to be expiated by death was that he dared to pick a fruit from the paradise tree. [81] The results of this are described in an Oriental legend. One to whom it was permitted to cast one look into Paradise after the fall saw the tree there and the four streams. But the tree was withered, and in its branches lay an infant. (The mother had become pregnant. [82])

This remarkable legend corresponds to the Talmudic tradition that Adam, before Eve, already possessed a demon wife, by name Lilith, with whom he quarrelled for mastership. But Lilith raised herself into the air through the magic of the name of God and hid herself in the sea. Adam forced her back with the help of three angels. [83] Lilith became a nightmare, a Lamia, who threatened those with child and who kidnapped the newborn child. The parallel myth is that of the Lamias, the spectres of the night, who terrified the children. The original legend is that Lamia enticed Zeus, but the jealous Hera, however, caused Lamia to bring only dead children into the world. Since that time the raging Lamia is the persecutor of children, whom she destroys wherever she can. This motive frequently recurs in fairy tales, where the mother often appears directly as a murderess or as a devourer of men; [84] a German paradigm is the well-known tale of Hansel and Gretel. Lamia is actually a large, voracious fish, which establishes the connection with the whale-dragon myth so beautifully worked out by Frobenius, in which the sea monster devours the sun-hero for rebirth and where the hero must employ every stratagem to conquer the monster. Here again we meet with the idea of the "terrible mother" in the form of the voracious fish, the mouth of death. [85] In Frobenius there are numerous examples where the monster has devoured not only men but also animals, plants, an entire country, all of which are redeemed by the hero to a glorious rebirth.

The Lamias are typical nightmares, the feminine nature of which is abundantly proven. [86] Their universal peculiarity is that they ride upon their victims. Their counterparts are the spectral horses which bear their riders along in a mad gallop. One recognizes very easily in these symbolic forms the type of anxious dream which, as Riklin shows, [87] has already become important for the interpretation of fairy tales through the investigation of Laistner. [88] The typical riding takes on a special aspect through the results of the analytic investigation of infantile psychology; the two contributions of Freud and myself [89] have emphasized, on one side, the anxiety significance of the horse, on the other side the sexual meaning of the phantasy of riding. When we take these experiences into consideration, we need no longer be surprised that the maternal "world-ash" Ygdrasil is called in German "the frightful horse." Cannegieter [90] says of nightmares:

"Abigunt eas nymphas (matres deas, mairas) hodie rustici osse capitis equini tectis injecto, cujusmodi ossa per has terras in rusticorum villis crebra est animadvertere. Nocte autem ad concubia equitare creduntur et equos fatigare ad longinqua itinera." [vii]


The connection of nightmare and horse seems, at first glance, to be present also etymologically = nightmare and mare. The Indo-Germanic root for mare is mark. Mare is the horse, English mare; Old High German marah (male horse) and meriha (female horse); Old Norse merr (mara = nightmare); Anglo-Saxon myre (maira). The French "cauchmar" comes from calcare = to tread, to step (of iterative meaning, therefore, "to tread" or press down) . It was also said of the cock who stepped upon the hen. This movement is also typical for the nightmare; therefore, it is said of King Vanlandi, "Mara trad han," the Mara trod on him in sleep even to death. [91] A synonym for nightmare is the "troll" or "treter" [92] (treader). This movement (calcare) is proven again by the experience of Freud and myself with children, where a special infantile sexual significance is attached to stepping or kicking.

The common Aryan root mar means "to die"; therefore, mara the "dead" or "death." From this results mors, Image = fate (also Image [93]). As is well known, the Nornes sitting under the "world-ash" personify fate like Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. With the Celts the conception of the Fates probably passes into that of matres and matronae, which had a divine significance among the Germans. A well-known passage in Julius Caesar ("De Bello Gallico," i: 50) informs us of this meaning of the mother:

"Ut matres familias eorum sortibus et vaticinationibus[ 94] declararent, utrum proelium committi ex usu esset, nec ne." [viii]


In Slav mara means "witch"; poln. mora = demon, nightmare; mor or more (Swiss-German) means "sow," also as an insult. The Bohemian mura means "nightmare" and "evening moth, Sphinx." This strange connection is explained through analysis where it often occurs that animals with movable shells (Venus shell) or wings are utilized for very transparent reasons as symbols of the female genitals. [95] The Sphingina are the twilight moth; they, like the nightmare, come in the darkness. Finally, it is to be observed that the sacred olive tree of Athens is called "Image" (that was derived from Image ). Halirrhotios wished to cut down the tree, but killed himself with the axe in the attempt.

The sound resemblance of mar, mere with meer = sea and Latin mare = sea is remarkable, although etymologically accidental. Might it refer back to "the great primitive idea of the mother" who, in the first place, meant to us our individual world and afterwards became the symbol of all worlds? Goethe said of the mothers: "They are encircled by images of all creatures." The Christians, too, could not refrain from reuniting their mother of God with water. "Ave Maris Stella" is the beginning of a hymn to Mary. Then again it is the horses of Neptune which symbolize the waves of the sea. It is probably of importance that the infantile word ma-ma (mother's breast) is repeated in its initial sound in all possible languages, and that the mothers of two religious heroes are called Mary and Maya. That the mother is the horse of the child is to be seen most plainly in the primitive custom of carrying the child on the back or letting it ride on the hip. Odin hung on the "world- ash," the mother, his "horse of terror." The Egyptian sun-god sits on the back of his mother, the heavenly cow.

We have already seen that, according to Egyptian conceptions, Isis, the mother of god, played an evil trick on the sun-god with the poisonous snake; also Isis behaved treacherously toward her son Horus in Plutarch's tradition. That is, Horus vanquished the evil Typhon, who murdered Osiris treacherously (terrible mother = Typhon). Isis, however, set him free again. Horus thereupon rebelled, laid hands on his mother and tore the regal ornaments from her head, whereupon Hermes gave her a cow's head. Then Horus conquered Typhon a second time. Typhon, in the Greek legend, is a monstrous dragon. Even without this confirmation it is evident that the battle of Horus is the typical battle of the sun-hero with the whale-dragon. Of the latter we know that it is a symbol of the "dreadful mother," of the voracious jaws of death, where men are dismembered and ground up. [96] Whoever vanquishes this monster has gained a new or eternal youth. For this purpose one must, in spite of all dangers, descend into the belly of the monster [97] (journey to hell) and spend some time there. (Imprisonment by night in the sea.)

The battle with the night serpent signifies, therefore, the conquering of the mother, who is suspected of an infamous crime, that is, the betrayal of the son. A full confirmation of the connection comes to us through the fragment of the Babylonian epic of the creation, discovered by George Smith, mostly from the library of Asurbanipal. The period of the origin of the text was probably in the time of Hammurabi (2,000 B.C.). We learn from this account of creation [98] that the sun-god Ea, the son of the depths of the waters and the god of wisdom, [99] had conquered Apsu. Apsu is the creator of the great gods (he existed in the beginning in a sort of trinity with Tiamat -- the mother of gods and Mumu, his vizier). Ea conquered the father, but Tiamat plotted revenge. She prepared herself for battle against the gods.

"Mother Hubur, who created everything, Procured invincible weapons, gave birth to giant snakes With pointed teeth, relentless in every way; Filled their bellies with poison instead of blood, Furious gigantic lizards, clothed them with horrors, Let them swell with the splendor of horror, formed them rearing, Whoever sees them shall die of terror. Their bodies shall rear without turning to escape. She arrayed the lizards, dragons and Lahamen, Hurricanes, mad dogs, scorpion men, Mighty storms, fishmen and rams. With relentless weapons, without fear of conflict, Powerful are Tiamat's commands, irresistible are they.

"After Tiamat Wad powerfully done her work She conceived evil against the gods, her descendants; In order to revenge Apsu, Tiamat did evil. When Ea now heard this thing He became painfully anxious, sorrowfully he sat himself. He went to the father, his creator, Ansar, To relate to him all that Tiamat plotted. Tiamat, our mother, has taken an aversion to us, Has prepared a riotous mob, furiously raging."


The gods finally opposed Marduk, the god of spring, the victorious sun, against the fearful host of Tiamat. Marduk prepared for battle. Of his chief weapon, which he created, it is said:

"He created the evil wind, Imhullu, the south storm and the hurricane,
The fourth wind, the seventh wind, the whirlwind and the harmful wind,
Then let he loose the winds, which he had created, the seven:
To cause confusion within Tiamat, they followed behind him,
"Then the lord took up the cyclone, his great weapon;
For his chariot he mounted the stormwind, the incomparable, the terrible one."
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Re: PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS: A STUDY OF THE TRANSFORMA

Postby admin » Wed Oct 07, 2015 4:09 am

Part 3 of 3

His chief weapon is the wind and a net, with which he will entangle Tiamat. He approaches Tiamat and challenges her to a combat.

"Then Tiamat and Marduk, the wise one of the gods, came together,
Rising for the fight, approaching to the battle:
Then the lord spread out his net and caught her.
He let loose the Imhullu in his train at her face,
Then Tiamat now opened her mouth as wide as she could.
He let the Imhullu rush in so that her lips could not close;
With the raging winds he filled her womb.
Her inward parts were seized and she opened wide her mouth.
He touched her with the spear, dismembered her body,
He slashed her inward parts, and cut out her heart,
Subdued her and put an end to her life.
He threw down her body and stepped upon it."


After Marduk slew the mother, he devised the creation of the world.

"There the lord rested contemplating her body,
Then divided he the Colossus, planning wisely.
He cut it apart like a flat fish, into two parts, [100]
One half he took and with it he covered the Heavens."


In this manner Marduk created the universe from the mother. It is clearly evident that the killing of the mother-dragon here takes place under the idea of a wind fecundation with negative accompaniments.

The world is created from the mother, that is to say, from the libido taken away from the mother through sacrifice. We shall have to consider this significant formula more closely in the last chapter. The most interesting parallels to this primitive myth are to be found in the literature of the Old Testament, as Gunkel [101] has brilliantly pointed out. It is worth while to trace the psychology of these parallels.

Isaiah li : 9:

(9) "Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord; awake as in the ancient days, in the generation of old. Art thou not it that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon?

(10) "Art thou not it which hath dried the sea, the waters of the great deep, that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass over?"


The name of Rahab is frequently used for Egypt in the Old Testament, also dragon. Isaiah, chapter xxx, verse 7, calls Egypt "the silent Rahab," and means, therefore, something evil and hostile. Rahab is the well-known whore of Jericho, who later, as the wife of Prince Salma, became the ancestress of Christ. Here Rahab appeared as the old dragon, as Tiamat, against whose evil power Marduk, or Jehovah, marched forth. The expression "the ransomed" refers to the Jews freed from bondage, but it is also mythological, for the hero again frees those previously devoured by the whale. (Frobenius.)

Psalm Ixxxix: 10:

"Thou hast broken Rahab in pieces, as one that is slain."

Job xxvi: 12-13:

"He divideth the sea with his power, and by his understanding he smiteth through the proud.

"By his spirit he hath garnished the heavens, his hand hath formed the crooked serpent."


Gunkel places Rahab as identical with Chaos, that is, the same as Tiamat. Gunkel translates "the breaking to pieces" as "violation." Tiamat or Rahab as the mother is also the whore. Gilgamesh treats Ischtar in this way when he accuses her of whoredom. This insult towards the mother is very familiar to us from dream analysis. The dragon Rahab appears also as Leviathan, the water monster (maternal sea).

Psalm Ixxiv:

(13) "Thou didst divide the sea by thy strength: thou brakest the heads of the dragons in the waters.

(14) "Thou brakest the heads of Leviathan in pieces and gavest him to be meat to the people inhabiting the wilderness.

(15) "Thou didst cleave the fountain and the flood: thou didst dry up mighty rivers."


While only the phallic meaning of the Leviathan was emphasized in the first part of this work, we now discover also the maternal meaning. A further parallel is:

Isaiah xxvii : I:

"In that day, the Lord with his cruel and great and strong sword shall punish Leviathan, the piercing serpent, even Leviathan that crooked serpent, and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea."


We come upon a special motive in Job, chap, xli, v. i:

"Canst thou draw out Leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down? Canst thou put an hook in his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?"


Numerous parallels to this motive are to be found among exotic myths in Frobenius, where the maternal sea monster was also fished for. The comparison of the mother libido with the elementary powers of the sea and the powerful monsters borne by the earth show how invincibly great is the power of that libido which we designate as maternal.

We have already seen that the incest prohibition prevents the son from reproducing himself through the mother. But this must be done by the god, as is shown with remarkable clearness and candor in the pious Egyptian mythology, which has preserved the most ancient and simple concepts. Thus Chnum, the "moulder," the potter, "the architect," moulds his egg upon the potter's wheel, for he is "the immortal growth," "the reproduction of himself and his own rebirth, the creator of the egg, which emerged from the primitive waters." In the Book of the Dead it says:

"I am the sublime falcon (the Sun-god), which has come forth from his egg."


Another passage in the Book of the Dead reads:

"I am the creator of Nun, who has taken his place in the underworld. My nest is not seen and my egg is not broken."


A further passage reads:

"that great and noble god in his egg: who is his own originator of that which has arisen from him." [102]


Therefore, the god Nagaga-uer is also called the "great cackler." (Book of the Dead.) "I cackle like a goose and I whistle like a falcon." The mother is reproached with the incest prohibition as an act of wilful maliciousness by which she excludes the son from immortality. Therefore, a god must at least rebel, overpower and chastise the mother. (Compare Adam and Lilith, above.) The "overpowering" signifies incestuous rape. [103] Herodotus [104] has preserved for us a valuable fragment of this religious phantasy.

"And how they celebrate their feast to Isis in the city of Busiris, I have already previously remarked. After the sacrifice, all of them, men and women, full ten thousand people, begin to beat each other. But it would be sin for me to mention for whom they do beat each other.

"But in Papremis they celebrated the sacrifice with holy actions, as in the other places. About the time when the sun sets, some few priests are busy around the image; most of them stand at the entrance with wooden clubs, and others who would fulfil a vow, more than a thousand men, also stand in a group with wooden cudgels opposite them.

"Now on the eve of the festival, they take the image out in a small and gilded temple into another sacred edifice. Then the few who remain with the image draw a four-wheeled chariot upon which the temple stands with the image which it encloses. But the others who stand in the anterooms are not allowed to enter. Those under a vow, who stand by the god, beat them off. Now occurs a furious battle with clubs, in which they bruise each other's bodies and as I believe, many even die from their wounds: notwithstanding this, the Egyptians consider that none die.

"The natives claim that this festival gathering was introduced for the following reason: in this sanctuary lived the mother .of Ares. [105] Now Ares was brought up abroad and when he became a man he came to have intercourse with his mother. The servants of his mother who had seen him did not allow him to enter peacefully, but prevented him; at which he fetched people from another city, who mistreated the servants and had entrance to his mother. Therefore, they asserted that this slaughter was introduced at the feast for Ares."


It is evident that the pious here fight their way to a share in the mystery of the raping of the mother. [106] This is the part which belongs to them, [107] while the heroic deed belongs to the god. [108] By Ares is meant the, Egyptian Typhon, as we have good reasons to suppose. Thus Typhon represents the evil longing for the mother with which other myth forms reproach the mother, according to the well-known example. The death of Balder, quite analogous to the death of Osiris (attack of sickness of Re), because of the wounding by the branch of the mistletoe, seems to need a similar explanation. It is recounted in the myth how all creatures were pledged not to hurt Balder, save only the mistletoe, which was forgotten, presumably because it was too young. This killed Balder. Mistletoe is a parasite. The female piece of wood in the fire-boring ritual was obtained [109] from the wood of a parasitical or creeping plant, the fire mother. The "mare" rests upon "Marentak," in which Grimm suspects the mistletoe. The mistletoe was a remedy against barrenness. In Gaul the Druid alone was allowed to climb the holy oak amid solemn ceremonies after the completed sacrifice, in order to cut off the ritual mistletoe. [110] This act is a religiously limited and organized incest. That which grows on the tree is the child, [111] which man might have by the mother; then man himself would be in a renewed and rejuvenated form; and precisely this is what man cannot have, because the incest prohibition forbids it. As the Celtic custom shows, the act is performed by the priest only, with the observation of certain ceremonies; the hero god and the redeemer of the world, however, do the unpermitted, the superhuman thing, and through it purchase immortality. The dragon, who must be overcome for this purpose, means, as must have been for some time clearly seen, the resistance against the incest. Dragon and serpent, especially with the characteristic accumulation of anxiety attributes, are the symbolic representations of anxiety which correspond to the repressed incest wish. It is, therefore, intelligible, when we come across the tree with the snake again and again (in Paradise the snake even tempts to sin). The snake or dragon possesses in particular the meaning of treasure guardian and defender. The phallic, as well as the feminine, meaning of the dragon [112] indicates that it is again a symbol of the sexual neutral (or bisexual) libido, that is to say, a symbol of the libido in opposition. In this significance the black horse, Apaosha, the demon of opposition, appears in the old Persian song, Tishtriya, where it obstructs the sources of the rain lake. The white horse Tishtriya makes two futile attempts to vanquish Apaosha; at the third attempt, with the help of Ahuramazda, he is successful. [113] Whereupon the sluices of heaven open and a fruitful rain pours down upon the earth. [114] In this song one sees very beautifully in the choice of symbol how libido is opposed to libido, will against will, the discordance of primitive man with himself, which he recognizes again in all the adversity and contrasts of external nature.

The symbol of the tree encoiled by the serpent may also be translated as the mother defended from incest by resistance. This symbol is by no means rare upon Mithraic monuments. The rock encircled by a snake is to be comprehended similarly, because Mithra is one born from a rock. The menace of the new-born by the snake (Mithra, Hercules) is made clear through the legend of Lilith and Lamia. Python, the dragon of Leto, and Poine, who devastates the land of Crotopus, are sent by the father of the new-born. This idea indicates the localization, well known in psychoanalysis, of the incest anxiety in the father. The father represents the active repulse of the incest wish of the son. The crime, unconsciously wished for by the son, is imputed to the father under the guise of a pretended murderous purpose, this being the cause of the mortal fear of the son for the father, a frequent neurotic symptom. In conformity with this idea, the monster to be overcome by the young hero is frequently a giant, the guardian of the treasure or the woman. A striking example is the giant Chumbaba in the Gilgamesh epic, who protected the garden of Ishtar; [115] he is overcome by Gilgamesh, whereby Ishtar is won. Thereupon she makes erotic advances towards Gilgamesh. [116] This data should be sufficient to render intelligible the role of Horus in Plutarch, especially the violent usage of Isis. Through overpowering the mother the hero becomes equal to the sun; he reproduces himself. He wins the strength of the invincible sun, the power of eternal rejuvenation. We thus understand a series of representations from the Mithraic myth on the Heddernheim relief. There we see, first of all, the birth of Mithra from the top of the tree; the next representation shows him carrying the conquered bull (comparable to the monstrous bull overcome by Gilgamesh). This bull signifies the concentrated significance of the monster, the father, who as giant and dangerous animal embodies the incest prohibition, and agrees with the individual libido of the sun-hero, which he overcomes by self-sacrifice. The third picture represents Mithra, when he grasps the head ornament of the sun, the nimbus. This act recalls to us, first of all, the violence of Horus towards Isis; secondly, the Christian basic thought, that those who have overcome attain the crown of eternal life. On the fourth picture Sol kneels before Mithra. These last two representations show plainly that Mithra has taken to himself the strength of the sun, so that he becomes the lord of the sun as well. He has conquered "his animal nature," the bull. The animal knows no incest prohibition; man is, therefore, man because he conquers the incest wish, that is, the animal nature. Thus Mithra has sacrificed his animal nature, the incest wish, and with that has overcome the mother, that is to say, "the terrible death-bringing mother." A solution is already anticipated in the Gilgamesh epic through the formal renunciation of the horrible Ishtar by the hero. The overcoming of the mother in the Mithraic sacrifice, which had almost an ascetic character, took place no longer by the archaic overpowering, but through the renunciation, the sacrifice of the wish. The primitive thought of incestuous reproduction through entrance into the mother's womb had already been displaced, because man was so far advanced in domestication that he believed that the eternal life of the sun is reached, not through the perpetration of incest, but through the sacrifice of the incest wish. This important change expressed in the Mithraic mystery finds its full expression for the first time in the symbol of the crucified God. A bleeding human sacrifice was hung on the tree of life for Adam's sins. [117] The first-born sacrifices its life to the mother when he suffers, hanging on the branch, a disgraceful and painful death, a mode of death which belongs to the most ignominious forms of execution, which Roman antiquity had reserved for only the lowest criminal. Thus the hero dies, as if he had committed the most shameful crime; he does this by returning into the birth-giving branch of the tree of life, at the same time paying for his guilt with the pangs of death. The animal nature is repressed most powerfully in this deed of the highest courage and the greatest renunciation; therefore, a greater salvation is to be expected for humanity, because such a deed alone seems appropriate to expiate Adam's guilt.

Image
BULL-SACRIFICE OF MITHRA

As has already been mentioned, the hanging of the sacrifice on the tree is a generally widespread ritual custom, Germanic examples being especially abundant. The ritual consists in the sacrifice being pierced by a spear. [118] Thus it is said of Odin (Edda, Havamal):

"I know that I hung on the windswept tree
Nine nights through,
Wounded by a spear, dedicated to Odin
I myself to myself."


The hanging of the sacrifice to the cross also occurred in America prior to its discovery. Muller [119] mentions the Fejervaryian manuscript (a Mexican hieroglyphic kodex), at the conclusion of which there is a colossal cross, in the middle of which there hangs a bleeding divinity. Equally interesting is the cross of Palenque; [120] up above is a bird, on either side two human figures, who look at the cross and hold a child against it either for sacrifice or baptism. The old Mexicans are said to have invoked the favor of Centeotls, "the daughter of heaven and the goddess of wheat," every spring by nailing upon the cross a youth or a maiden and by shooting the sacrifice with arrows. [121] The name of the Mexican cross signifies "tree of our life or flesh." [122]

An effigy from the Island of Philae represents Osiris in the form of a crucified god, wept over by Isis and Nephthys, the sister consort. [123]

The meaning of the cross is certainly not limited to the tree of life, as has already been shown. Just as the tree of life has also a phallic sub-meaning (as libido symbol), so there is a further significance to the cross than life and immortality. [124] Miiller uses it as a sign of rain and of fertility, because it appears among the Indians distinctly as a magic charm of fertility. It goes without saying, therefore, that it plays a role in the sun cult. It is also noteworthy that the sign of the cross is an important sign for the keeping away of all evil, like the ancient gesture of Manofica. The phallic amulets also serve the same purpose. Zockler appears to have overlooked the fact that the phallic Crux Ansata is the same cross which has flourished in countless examples in the soil of antiquity. Copies of this Crux Ansata are found in many places, and almost every collection of antiquities possesses one or more specimens. [125]

Finally, it must be mentioned that the form of the human body is imitated in the cross as of a man with arms outspread. It is remarkable that in early Christian representations Christ is not nailed to the cross, but stands before it with arms outstretched. [126] Maurice [127] gives a striking basis for this interpretation when he says:

"It is a fact not less remarkable than well attested, that the Druids in their groves were accustomed to select the most stately and beautiful tree as an emblem of the deity they adored, and cutting off the side branches, they affixed two of the largest of them to the highest part of the trunk, in such a manner that those branches extended on each side like the arms of a man, and together with the body presented the appearance of a huge cross; and in the bark in several places was also inscribed the letter T (tau)." [128]


"The tree of knowledge" of the Hindoo Dschaina sect assumes human form; it was represented as a mighty, thick trunk in the form of a human head, from the top of which grew out two longer branches hanging down at the sides and one short, vertical, uprising branch crowned by a bud or blossom-like thickening. [129] Robertson in his "Evangelical Myths" mentions that in the Assyrian system there exists the representation of the divinity in the form of a cross, in which the vertical beam corresponds to a human form and the horizontal beam to a pair of conventionalized wings. Old Grecian idols such, for example, as were found in large numbers in Aegina have a similar character, an immoderately long head and arms slightly raised, wing-shaped, and in front distinct breasts. [130]

I must leave it an open question as to whether the symbol of the cross has any relation to the two pieces of wood in the religious fire production, as is frequently claimed. It does appear, however, as if the cross symbol actually still possessed the significance of "union," for this idea belongs to the fertility charm, and especially to the thought of eternal rebirth, which is most intimately bound up with the cross. The thought of " union/' expressed by the symbol of the cross, is met with in "Timaios " of Plato, where the world soul is conceived as stretched out between heaven and earth in the form of an X (Chi); hence in the form of a "St. Andrew's cross." When we now learn, furthermore, that the world soul contains in itself the world as a body, then this picture inevitably reminds us of the mother.

(Dialogues of Plato. Jowett, Vol. II, page 528.)

"And in the center he put the soul, which he diffused through the whole, and also spread over all the body round about, and he made one solitary and only heaven, a circle moving in a circle, having such excellence as to be able to hold converse with itself, and needing no other friendship or acquaintance. Having these purposes in view he created the world to be a blessed god."


This highest degree of inactivity and freedom from desire, symbolized by the being enclosed within itself, signifies divine blessedness. The only human prototype of this conception is the child in the mother's womb, or rather more, the adult man in the continuous embrace of the mother, from whom he originates. Corresponding to this mythologic-philosophic conception, the enviable Diogenes inhabited a tub, thus giving mythologic expression to the blessedness and resemblance to the Divine in his freedom from desire. Plato says as follows of the bond of the world soul to the world body:

"Now God did not make the soul after the body, although we have spoken of them in this order; for when he put them together he would never have allowed that the elder should serve the younger, but this is what we say at random, because we ourselves too are very largely affected by chance. Whereas he made the soul in origin and excellence prior to and older than the body, to be the ruler and mistress, of whom the body was to be the subject."


It seems conceivable from other indications that the conception of the soul in general is a derivative of the mother-imago, that is to say, a symbolic designation for the amount of libido remaining in the mother-imago. (Compare the Christian representation of the soul as the bride of Christ.) The further development of the world soul in "Timaios" takes place in an obscure fashion in mystic numerals. When the mixture was completed the following occurred:

"This entire compound he divided lengthways into two parts, which he joined to one another at the center like the figure of an X."


This passage approaches very closely the division and union of Atman, who, after the division, is compared to a man and a woman who hold each other in an embrace. Another passage is worth mentioning:

"After the entire union of the soul had taken place, according to the master's mind, he formed all that is corporeal within this, and joined it together so as to penetrate it throughout."


Moreover, I refer to my remarks about the maternal meaning of the world soul in Plotinus, in Chapter II.

A similar detachment of the symbol of the cross from a concrete figure we find among the Muskhogean Indians, who stretch above the surface of the water (pond or stream) two ropes crosswise and at the point of intersection throw into the water fruits, oil and precious stones as a sacrifice. [131] Here the divinity is evidently the water, not the cross, which designates the place of sacrifice only, through the point of intersection. The sacrifice at the place of union indicates why this symbol was a primitive charm of fertility, [132] why we meet it so frequently in the prechristian era among the goddesses of love (mother goddesses), especially among the Egyptians in Isis and the sun-god. We have already discussed the continuous union of these two divinities. As the cross (Tau [T], Crux Ansata) always recurs in the hand of Turn, the supreme God, the hegemon of the Ennead, it may not be superfluous to say something more of the destination of Turn. The Turn of On-Heliopolis bears the name "the father of his mother"; what that means needs no explanation; Jusas or Nebit-Hotpet, the goddess joined to him, was called sometimes the mother, sometimes the daughter, sometimes the wife of the god. The day of the beginning of autumn is designated in the Heliopolitan inscriptions as the "festival of the goddess Jusasit," as "the arrival of the sister for the purpose of uniting with her father." It is the day in which "the goddess Mehnit completes her work, so that the god Osiris may enter into the left eye." (By which the moon is meant. [133]) The day is also called the filling up of the sacred eye with its needs. The heavenly cow with the moon eye, the cow-headed Isis, takes to herself in the autumn equinox the seed which procreates Horus. (Moon as keeper of the seed.) The "eye" evidently represents the genitals, as in the myth of Indra, who had to bear spread over his whole body the likeness of Yoni (vulva), on account of a Bathsheba outrage, but was so far pardoned by the gods that the disgraceful likeness of Yoni was changed into eyes. [134] The "pupil" in the eye is a child. The great god becomes a child again; he enters the mother's womb in order to renew himself. [135] In a hymn it is said:

"Thy mother, the heavens, stretches forth her arms to thee."


In another place it is said:

"Thou shinest, oh father of the gods, upon the back of thy mother, daily thy mother takes thee in her arms. When thou illuminatest the dwelling of night, thou unitest with thy mother, the heavens." [136]


The Tum of Pitum-Heliopolis not only bears the Crux Ansata as a symbol, but also has this sign as his most frequent surname, that is, anX or anXi, which means "life" or "the living." He is chiefly honored as the demon serpent, Agatho, of whom it is said, "The holy demon serpent Agatho goes forth from the city Nezi." The snake, on account of casting its skin, is the symbol of renewal, as is the scarabseus, a symbol of the sun, of whom it is said that he, being of masculine sex only, reproduces himself.

The name Chnum (another name for Turn, always meaning "the sun-god") comes from the verb xnum, which means "to bind together, to unite." [137] Chnum appears chiefly as the potter, the moulder of his egg. The cross seems, therefore, to be an extraordinarily condensed symbol; its supreme meaning is that of the tree of life, and, therefore, is a symbol of the mother. The symbolization in a human form is, therefore, intelligible. The phallic forms of the Crux Ansata belong to the abstract meaning of "life" and "fertility," as well as to the meaning of "union," which we can now very properly interpret as cohabitation with the mother for the purpose of renewal. [138] It is, therefore, not only a very touching but also a very significant naive symbolism when Mary, in an Old English lament of the Virgin, [139] accuses the cross of being a false tree, which unjustly and without reason destroyed "the pure fruit of her body, her gentle birdling," with a poisonous draught, the draught of death, which is destined only for the guilty descendants of the sinner Adam. Her son was not a sharer in that guilt. (Compare with this the cunning of Isis with the fatal draught of love.) Mary laments:

"Cross, thou art the evil stepmother of my son, so high hast thou hung him that I cannot even kiss his feet! Cross, thou art my mortal enemy, thou hast slain my little blue bird!"


The holy cross answers:

"Woman, I thank thee for my honor: thy splendid fruit, which now I bear, shines as a red blossom. [140] Not alone to save thee but to save the whole world this precious flower blooms in thee." [141]


Santa Crux says of the relation to each other of the two mothers (Isis in the morning and Isis in the evening):

"Thou hast been crowned as Queen of Heaven on account of the child, which thou hast borne. But I shall appear as the shining relic to the whole world, at the day of judgment. I shall then raise my lament for thy divine son innocently slain upon me."


Thus the murderous mother of death unites with the mother of life in bringing forth a child. In their lament for the dying God, and as outward token of their union, Mary kisses the cross, and is reconciled to it. [142] The naive Egyptian antiquity has preserved for us the union of the contrasting tendencies in the mother idea of Isis. Naturally this imago is merely a symbol of the libido of the son for the mother, and describes the conflict between love and incest resistance. The criminal incestuous purpose of the son appears projected as criminal cunning in the mother-imago. The separation of the son from the mother signifies the separation of man from the generic consciousness of animals, from that infantile archaic thought characterized by the absence of individual consciousness.

It was only the power of the incest prohibition which created the self-conscious individual, who formerly had been thoughtlessly one with the tribe, and in this way alone did the idea of individual and final death become possible. Thus through the sin of Adam death came into the world. This, as is evident, is expressed figuratively, that is, in contrast form. The mother's defence against the incest appears to the son as a malicious act, which delivers him over to the fear of death. This conflict faces us in the Gilgamesh epic in its original freshness and passion, where also the incest wish is projected onto the mother.

The neurotic who cannot leave the mother has good reasons; the fear of death holds him there. It seems as if no idea and no word were strong enough to express the meaning of this. Entire religions were constructed in order to give words to the immensity of this conflict. This struggle for expression which continued down through the centuries certainly cannot have its source in the restricted realm of the vulgar conception of incest. Rather one must understand the law which is ultimately expressed as "Incest prohibition" as coercion to domestication, and consider the religious systems as institutions which first receive, then organize and gradually sublimate, the motor forces of the animal nature not immediately available for cultural purposes.

We will now return to the visions of Miss Miller. Those now following need no further detailed discussion. The next vision is the image of a "purple bay." The symbolism of the sea connects smoothly with that which precedes. One might think here in addition of the reminiscences of the Bay of Naples, which we came across in Part I. In the sequence of the whole, however, we must not overlook the significance of the "bay." In French it is called une baie, which probably corresponds to a bay in the English text. It might be worth while here to glance at the etymological side of this idea. Bay is generally used for something which is open, just as the Catalonian word badia (bai) comes from badar, " = to open." In French bayer means "to have the mouth open, to gape." Another word for the same is Meerbusen, "bay or gulf"; Latin sinus, and a third word is golf (gulf), which in French stands in closest relation to gouffre = abyss. Golf is derived from "Image," [143] which also means "bosom" and "womb," "mother-womb," also "vagina." It can also mean a fold of a dress or pocket; it may also mean a deep valley between high mountains. These expressions clearly show what primitive ideas lie at their base. They render intelligible Goethe's choice of words at that place where Faust wishes to follow the sun with winged desire in order in the everlasting day "to drink its eternal light":

"The mountain chain with all its gorges deep,
Would then no more impede my godlike motion;
And now before mine eyes expands the ocean,
With all its bays, in shining sleep!"


Faust's desire, like that of every hero, inclines towards the mysteries of rebirth, of immortality; therefore, his course leads to the sea, and down into the monstrous jaws of death, the horror and narrowness of which at the same time signify the new day.

"Out on the open ocean speeds my dreaming:
The glassy flood before my feet is gleaming,
A new day beckons to a newer shore!
A fiery chariot borne on buoyant pinions,
Sweeps near me now! I soon shall ready be
To pierce the ether's high, unknown dominions,
To reach new spheres of pure activity!
This Godlike rapture, this supreme existence. . . .

***

"Yes, let me dare those gates to fling asunder,
Which every man would fain go slinking by!
'Tis time, through deeds this word of truth to thunder;
That with the height of God's Man's dignity may vie!
Nor from that gloomy gulf to shrink affrighted,
Where fancy doth herself to self-born pangs compel, --
To struggle toward that pass benighted,
Around whose narrow mouth flame all the fires of Hell: --
To take this step with cheerful resolution,
Though Nothingness should be the certain swift conclusion!"


It sounds like a confirmation, when the succeeding vision of Miss Miller's is une falaise a pic, "a steep, precipitous cliff." (Compare gouffre.) The entire series of individual visions is completed, as the author observes, by a confusion of sounds, somewhat resembling "wa-ma, wa-ma." This has a very primitive, barbaric sound. Since we learn from the author nothing of the subjective roots of this sound, nothing is left us but the suspicion that this sound might be considered, taken in connection with the whole, as a slight mutilation of the well-known call ma-ma.

_______________

Notes:

i. The sea is the symbol of birth.

ii. That which is born of the flesh is flesh and that which is born of the spirit is spirit; the spirit bloweth where it listeth.

iii. In the fourth place Isis was born in absolute humidity.

iv. The great beneficent king, Osiris.

v. Melian Virgins.

vi. Pregnant.

vii. Even to-day the country people drive off these nymphs (mother goddesses, Maira) by throwing a bone of the head of a horse upon the roof -- bones of this kind can often be seen throughout the land on the farmhouses of the country people. By night, however, they are believed to ride at the time of the first sleep, and they are believed to tire out their horses by long journeys.

viii. That these matrons should declare by lots whether it would be to their advantage or not to engage in battle.
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