Cary F. Baynes: But I think the printing of them just exactly falsifies them in a very painful way.

So then you said I was to copy down the contents of the Red Book—once before you had had it copied, but you had since then added a great deal of material, so you wanted it done again and you would explain things to me as I went along, for you understood nearly everything in it you said.

In this way we could come to discuss many things which never came up in my analysis and I could understand your ideas from the foundation. ~Cary F. Baynes, The Red Book, Page 213.


When I asked Baynes if he would not like a seminar on the Red Book I had nothing other in mind than what you were doing with him.

Since I began to read it I have thought it would be a very fine thing, if instead of your discussing it with me as you said you would, Mona Lisa should be included too.

Perhaps she knows all that is in it so well, and understands it so completely that this would not appeal to her, but I thought it would . . . he [Peter Baynes] asked me . . .why it was such a problem with me about publishing the Red Book.

I could have slapped him sharply by saying it was a problem to me because you had so presented it . . . then you told him your own idea about it, and he was thoroughly non-plussed.

. . . When I said I wanted to hear you speak of the Red Book out of doors and you willed to think I had in mind a pink tea, I struck back at you in kind, and said that if the Red Book was not big enough to be talked about out of doors, then you would have to do something about it. ~Cary F. Baynes Diary, June 5, 1924.


After talking with Emma about the notes and finding that her reaction to the printing of them is just what my own was, all my resistances to that idea have now come back upon me very strongly, and I would like to put the matter before you once more.

I think those lectures you gave last spring are the most important thing that has happened in psychology in this century, because in them you give the passage of an idea from its place in nature as an archetype, to the position of an abstraction, or a concept, the last refinement of human ingenuity, you might say.

Such a thing has never ever even been dreamed of in the world before, much less done, and therefore I think those lectures ought to be treated in a way that befits the importance of their content.

But you will say, what better way is there of treating them than having them printed?

But I think the printing of them just exactly falsifies them in a very painful way.

It is generally accepted that when a thing is printed it is to be looked upon as in a more or less permanent form, but those notes are in no form at all, they could not be, and do not profess to be more than a schematic rehearsal of what you said.

They partake of the nature of the sculptor’s ébauche [mock up] in clay, and as such they have magic, but as soon as they are forced into something they are not, the magic goes out of them and they go flat.

Moreover, when you make something with spoken words, you can build extraordinary structures in a short space of time, but when it comes to the written or rather the printed word, the structures have to have visible foundations under them if they are to carry, that is in the field of science.

Now all three series of lectures, Swanage, those here, and Cornwall, are filled with fugitive thoughts that flew with sureness when you spoke them, but go limping across the pages of the notes with only half a wing-power.

If you wrote them they would fly again, but as notes they won’t, and so it is another reason I think they ought not to be presented with the formality that printing gives them.

They should be kept just as they are, rough laboratory material, until such time as you will work up the ideas in them into a book which you will undoubtedly do in the course of time.

The best way to keep them in their place seems to be to have them mimeographed and given only to members of the class with a half a dozen exceptions such as Baynes, Shaw and a few others like that. . .

Last spring when I talked to you about it, you would look at it only as a harmless phantasy of Ward’s, this printing idea.

I have no doubt you thought the same thing when Hinkle proposed translating the Wandlung [Transformations and Symbols of the Libido], but look how far from harmless that phantasy proved to be! ~Cary F. Baynes Diary, September 26, 1925

Carl Jung and Introduction to Kundalini Yoga Seminar

Munich, 30 May 1930. At a memorial for his deceased colleague, the sinologist Richard Wilhelm, Jung echoed these dramatic events:

If we look to the East: an overwhelming destiny is fulfilling itself. . . .

We have conquered the East politically.

Do you know what happened, when Rome subjugated the near East politically?

The spirit of the East entered Rome. Mithras became the Roman military god. . . .

Would it be unthinkable that the same thing happened today and we would be just as blind as the cultured Romans, who marvelled at the superstitions of the Christians? . . .

I know that our unconscious is crammed with Eastern symbolism.

The spirit of the East is really ante portas. . . .

I consider the fact that Wilhelm and the Indologist Hauer were invited to lecture on yoga at this year’s congress of German psychotherapists, as an extremely significant
sign of the times.

Consider what it means, when the practising doctor, having to deal directly with suffering and therefore susceptible people, establishes contact with an Eastern system
of healing! ~Carl Jung, Kundalini Seminars, Pages xvii-xviii

Inasmuch as I regard the psychoanalytical and psycho-synthetic methods likewise as means of self-improvement, your comparison with the yoga method seems thoroughly plausible to me.

It appears to me, however, as one must emphasize, that it is merely an analogy which is involved, since nowadays far too many Europeans are inclined to carry Eastern ideas and methods over unexamined into our occidental mentality.

This happens, in my opinion, neither to our advantage nor to the advantage of those ideas.

For what has emerged from the Eastern spirit is based upon the peculiar history of that mentality, which is most fundamentally different from ours. ~Carl Jung, Kundalini Seminars, Page xxi.

Jung specified his psychological understanding of tantric yoga as follows:

Indian philosophy is namely the interpretation given to the precise condition of the non-ego, which affects our personal psychology, however independent from us it remains.

It sees the aim of human development as bringing about an approach to and connection between the specific nature of the non-ego and the conscious ego.

Tantra yoga then gives a representation of the condition and the developmental phases of this impersonality, as it itself in its own way produces the light of a higher supra-personal consciousness. ~Carl Jung, Kundalini Seminars, Page xxiii

Fowler McCormick, who accompanied Jung on this trip, recalled an experience of Jung’s that had tantric overtones:

As we would go through temples of Kali, which were numerous at almost every Hindu city, we saw the evidences of animal sacrifice: the places were filthy dirty—dried blood on the floor and lots of remains of red betelnut all around, so that the colour red was associated with destructiveness.

Concurrently in Calcutta Jung began to have a series of dreams in which the colour red was stressed.

It wasn’t long before dysentery overcame Dr. Jung and I had to take him to the English hospital at Calcutta. . . .

A more lasting effect of this impression of the destructiveness of Kali was the emotional foundation it gave him for the conviction that evil was not a negative
thing but a positive thing. . . . The influence of that experience in India, to my mind, was very great on Jung in his later years. ~Fowler McCormick, Kundalini Seminars, Page xxviii.

I will be silent on the meaning of yoga for India, because I cannot presume to pass judgment on something I do not know from personal experience.

I can, however, say something about what it means for the West.

Our lack of direction borders on psychic anarchy.

Therefore any religious or philosophical practice amounts to a psychological discipline, and therefore a method of psychic hygiene. ~Carl Jung, Kundalini Seminars, Page xxviii.

The Indian concepts are alien to us Westerners; most people are incapable—it is just the theosophists who prove this—of acquiring an inner relation to them.

Moreover, physiologically we are all Christians, whether our consciousness recognizes this or not.

Thus every doctrine which continues in the Christian spirit has a better chance of taking hold of our innermost being than the profoundest doctrine of foreign origin. Carl Jung, Kundalini Seminars, Page xxxi.

Carl Jung: Far from being a material world, this is a psychic world...

Far from being a material world, this is a psychic world, which allows us to make only indirect and hypothetical inferences about the real nature of matter.

The psychic all forms of the psychic, even "unreal" ideas and thoughts which refer to nothing "external."

We may call them "imagination" or "delusion," but that does not detract in any way from their effectiveness.

Indeed, there is no "real" thought that cannot, at times, be thrust aside by an "unreal" one, thus proving that the latter is stronger and more effective than the former.

Greater than all physical dangers are the tremendous effects of delusional ideas, which are yet denied all reality by our world-blinded consciousness.

Our much vaunted reason and our boundlessly overestimated will are sometimes utterly powerless in the face of "unreal" thoughts.
The world powers that rule over all mankind, for good or ill, are unconscious psychic factors, and it is they that bring consciousness into being and hence create the sine qua non for the existence of any world at all.

We are steeped in a world that was created by our own psyche. ~Carl Jung CW 8, Para 747

Carl Jung’s Foreword to “Apparitions and Precognitions” by Aniela Jaffe.

Carl Jung’s Foreword to “Apparitions and Precognitions” by Aniela Jaffe.

THE AUTHOR OF THIS BOOK has already made a name for herself for her valuable contributions to the literature of analytical psychology.

Here she tells of those strange tales that, because they incur the odium of superstition, are generally exchanged only in secret.

In this instance they were brought to light by a questionnaire sent out by the Schweizerischer Beobachter, which can thereby claim to have rendered no small service to the public.

The mass of material that came in arrived first at my address.

Since my age and my ever-growing preoccupation with other matters did not allow me to burden myself with further work, the task of sorting out such a collection and submitting it to psychological evaluation could not have been placed in worthier hands than those of the author.

She had displayed so much psychological tact, understanding and insight in her approach to a related theme- an interpretation of E. T. A. Hoffmann's story "The Golden Bowl" that I never hesitated in my choice.

Curiously enough, the problem of wonder tales as they are currently told has never been approached from the psychological side.

I naturally don't count mythology, although people are generally of the opinion that mythology is essentially history and no longer happens nowadays.

As psychic phenomena of the present, mythological themes are considered only a hunting ground for eccentrics.

Nevertheless, ghost stories, warning visions, and other strange happenings are constantly being reported, and the number of people to whom something once "happened" is surprisingly large.

Moreover, despite the disapproving silence of the "enlightened," for some time now "parapsychology" has been accepted as a serious science.

This fact may have helped to encourage the popular response to the questionnaire.

One of the most notable things that came to light is the fact that among the Swiss, who are commonly regarded as stolid, unimaginative, rationalistic and materialistic, there are just as many ghost stories and such as, for instance, among the English or Irish.

Indeed, as I know from my own experience and that of other investigators, magic as practised in the Middle Ages and much remoter times has by no means died out, but still flourishes today as rampantly as it did centuries ago.

One doesn't speak of these things, however.

They simply happen, and the intellectuals know nothing of them- for intellectuals know neither themselves nor people as they really are.

In the world of the latter, the life of the centuries lives on, and things that have accompanied human life from time immemorial continue to happen: premonitions, foreknowledge, second sight, hauntings,
ghosts, return of the dead, bewitchings, sorcery, magic spells, etc.

Naturally enough our scientific age wants to know whether such things are "true," without taking into account what the nature of proof would have to be and how it could be furnished.

The events in question must be looked at squarely and soberly, and then it generally turns out that the most exciting stories vanish into thin air; what remains is "not worth talking about."

Nobody thinks of asking the fundamental question: What is the real reason why the same old stories are experienced and repeated over and over again, without losing any of their prestige?

On the contrary, they return with their youthful vitality constantly renewed, fresh as on the first day.

The author has made it her task to take these tales for what they are, psychic facts, and not to pooh-pooh them because they do not fit into our scheme of things.

She has therefore logically left aside the question of truth, as has long since been done in mythology, and instead has tried to inquire into the psychological questions: Exactly who is it that sees a ghost?

Under what psychic conditions does he see it? What does a ghost signify when examined for its content, i.e., as a symbol?

She understands the art of leaving the story just as it is, with all the trimmings that are so offensive to the rationalist.

In this way the twilight atmosphere that is so essential to the story is preserved.

An integral ingredient of any nocturnal, numinous experience is the dimming of consciousness, the feeling that one is in the grip of something greater than oneself, the impossibility of exercising criticism, and the paralysis of the will.

Under the impact of the experience reason evaporates and another power spontaneously takes control- a most singular feeling which one willy-nilly hoards up as a secret treasure no matter how much
one's reason may protest.

This, indeed, is the uncomprehended purpose of the experience- to make us feel the overpowering presence of a mystery.

The author has succeeded in preserving the total character of such experiences, despite the refractory nature of the reports, and in making it an object of investigation.

Anyone who expects an answer to the question of parapsychological truth will be disappointed.

The psychologist is little concerned here with what kind of facts can be established in the conventional sense; all that matters to him is whether a person will vouch for the authenticity of his experience regardless of all interpretations.

The reports leave no doubt about this; moreover in most cases their authenticity is confirmed not only by the freedom with which they were reported, but also by independent parallel stories.

Since it cannot be doubted that such reports are found at all times and places, there is no sufficient reason for doubting the veracity of individual reports.

Doubt is justified only where it is a question of a deliberate lie.

The number of such cases is increasingly small, for the authors of such falsifications are too ignorant to be able to lie properly.

The psychology of the unconscious has thrown so many beams of light into other dark corners that we would expect it to elucidate also the obscure world of wonder tales eternally young.

From the copious material assembled in this book those conversant with depth psychology will indeed gain new and significant insights which merit the greatest attention.

I can recommend it to all who know how to value things that break through the monotony of daily life with salutary effects, that (sometimes!) shake our certitudes and lend wings to the imagination. ~ Carl Jung’s Foreword to “Apparitions and Precognitions” by Aniela Jaffe.

Carl Jung: Septem Sermones ad Mortuos: THE SEVEN SERMONS TO THE DEAD

Septem Sermones ad Mortuos:
THE SEVEN SERMONS TO THE DEAD


Carl Gustav Jung

WRITTEN BY BASILIDES IN ALEXANDRIA,
THE CITY WHERE THE EAST TOUCHETH THE WEST
Transcribed by Carl Gustav Jung, 1916
(Translated by H. G. Baynes)
Included as Appendix V in the 1963 Viking Books edition
of C. G. Jung’s autobiography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections.

Sermo I

The Dead came back from Jerusalem, where they found not what they sought. They prayed me let them in and besought my word, and thus I began my teaching.

Harken: I begin with nothingness. Nothingness is the same as fullness. In infinity full is no better than empty. Nothingness is both empty and full. As well might ye say anything else of nothingness, as for instance, white is it, or black, or again, it is not, or it is. A thing that is infinite and eternal hath no qualities, since it hath all qualities.

This nothingness or fullness we name the PLEROMA. Therein both thinking and being cease, since the eternal and infinite possess no qualities. In it no being is, for he then would be distinct from the pleroma, and would possess qualities which would distinguish him as something distinct from the pleroma.

In the pleroma there is nothing and everything. It is quite fruitless to think about the pleroma, for this would mean self-dissolution.

CREATURA is not in the pleroma, but in itself. The pleroma is both beginning and end of the created beings. It pervadeth them, as the light of the sun everywhere pervadeth the air. Although the pleroma pervadeth altogether, yet hath created being no share thereof, just as a wholly transparent body becometh neither light nor dark through the light which pervadeth it. We are, however, the pleroma itself, for we are a part of the eternal and the infinite. But we have no share thereof, as we are from the pleroma infinitely removed; not spiritually or temporally, but essentially, since we are distinguished from the pleroma in our essence as creatura, which is confined within time and space.

Yet because we are parts of the pleroma, the pleroma is also in us. Even in the smallest point is the pleroma endless, eternal, and entire, since small and great are qualities which are contained in it. It is that nothingness which is everywhere whole and continuous. Only figuratively, therefore, do I speak of created being as part of the pleroma. Because, actually, the pleroma is nowhere divided, since it is nothingness. We are also the whole pleroma, because, figuratively, the pleroma is the smallest point (assumed only, not existing) in us and the boundless firmanent about us. But wherefore, then, do we speak of the pleroma at all, since it is thus everything and nothing?

I speak of it to make a beginning somewhere, and also to free you from the delusion that somewhere, either without or within, there standeth something fixed, or in some way established, from the beginning. Every so-called fixed and certain thing is only relative. That alone is fixed and certain which is subject to change.

What is changeable, however, is creatura. Therefore is it the one thing which is fixed and certain; because it hath qualities: it is even quality itself.

The question ariseth: How did creatura originate? Created beings came to pass, not creatura: since created being is the very quality of the pleroma, as much as non-creation which is the eternal death. In all times and places is creation, in all times and places is death. The pleroma hath all, distinctiveness and non-distinctiveness.

Distinctiveness is creatura. It is distinct. Distinctivness is its essence, and therefore it distinguisheth. Wherefore also he distinguished qualities of the pleroma which are not. He distinguisheth them out of his own nature. Therefore he must speak of qualities of the pleroma which are not.

What use, say ye, to speak of it? Saidst thou not thyself, there is no profit in thinking upon the pleroma?

That said I unto you, to free you from the delusion that we are able to think about the pleroma. When we distinguish qualities of the pleroma, we are speaking from the ground of our own distinctiveness and concerning our own distinctiveness. But we have said nothing concerning the pleroma. Concerning our own distinctiveness, however, it is needful to speak, whereby we may distinguish ourselves enough. Our very nature is distinctiveness. If we are not true to this nature we do not distinguish ourselves enough. Therefore must we make distinctions of qualities.

What is the harm, ye ask, in not distinguishing oneself? If we do not distinguish, we get beyond our own nature, away from creatura. We fall into indistinctiveness, which is the other quality of the pleroma. We fall into the pleroma itself and cease to be creatures. We are given over to dissolution in nothingness. This is the death of the creature. Therefore we die in such measure as we do not distinguish. Hence the natural striving of the creature goeth towards distinctiveness, fighteth against primeval, perilous sameness. This is called the PRINCIPIUM INDIVIDUATIONIS. This principle is the essence of the creature. From this you can see why indistictiveness and non-distinction are a great danger for the creature.

We must, therefore, distinguish the qualities of the pleroma. The qualities are PAIRS OF OPPOSITES, such as —

The Effective and the ineffective.

Fullness and Emptiness.

Living and Dead.

Difference and Sameness.

Light and Darkness.

The Hot and the Cold.

Force and Matter.

Time and Space.

Good and Evil.

Beauty and Ugliness.

The One and the Many.

The pairs of opposites are qualities of the pleroma which are not, because each balanceth each. As we are the pleroma itself, we also have all these qualities in us. Because the very ground of our nature is distinctiveness, which meaneth —

1. These qualities are distinct and separate in us one from the other; therefore they are not balanced and void, but are effective. Thus are we the victims of the pairs of opposites. The pleroma is rent in us.

2. The qualities belong to the pleroma, and only in the name and sign of distinctiveness can and must we possess and live them. We must distinguish ourselves from qualities. In the pleroma they are balanced and void; in us not. Being distinguished from them delivereth us.

When we strive after the good or the beautiful, we thereby forget our own nature, which is disinctiveness, and we are delivered over to the qualities of the pleroma, which are pairs of opposites. We labor to attain the good and the beautiful, yet at the same time we also lay hold of the evil and the ugly, since in the pleroma these are one with the good and the beautiful. When, however, we remain true to our own nature, which is distinctiveness, we distinguish ourselves from the good and the beautiful, therefore, at the same time, from the evil and ugly. And thus we fall not into the pleroma, namely, into nothingness and dissolution.

Thou sayest, ye object, that difference and sameness are also qualities of the pleroma. How would it be, then, if we strive after difference? Are we, in so doing, not true to our own nature? And must we none the less be given over to the sameness when we strive after difference?

Ye must not forget that the pleroma hath no qualities. We create them through thinking. If, therefore, ye strive after difference or sameness, or any qualities whatsoever, ye pursue thoughts which flow to you out of the pleroma: thoughts, namely, concerning non-existing qualities of the pleroma. Inasmuch as ye run after these thoughts, ye fall again into the pleroma, and reach difference and sameness at the same time. Not your thinking, but your being, is distinctiveness. Therefore not after difference, ye think it, must ye strive; but after YOUR OWN BEING. At bottom, therefore, there is only one striving, namely, the striving after your own being. If ye had this striving ye would not need to know anything about the pleroma and its qualities, and yet would ye come to your right goal by virtue of your own being. Since, however, thought estrangeth from being, that knowledge must I teach you wherewith ye may be able to hold your thought in leash.





Sermo II



In the night the dead stood along the wall and cried:

We would have knowledge of god. Where is god? Is god dead?

God is not dead. Now, as ever, he liveth. God is creatura, for he is something definite, and therefore distinct from the pleroma. God is quality of the pleroma, and everything I said of creatura also is true concerning him.

He is distinguished, however, from created beings through this, that he is more indefinite and indeterminable than they. He is less distinct than created beings, since the ground of his being is effective fullness. Only in so far as he is definite and distinct is he creatura, and in like measure is he the manifestation of the effective fullness of the pleroma.

Everthing which we do not distinguish falleth into the pleroma and is made void by its opposite. If, therefore, we do not distinguish god, effective fullness is for us extinguished.

Moreover god is the pleroma itself, as likewise each smallest point in the created and uncreated is pleroma itself.

Effective void is the nature of the devil. God and devil are the first manifestations of nothingness, which we call the pleroma. It is indifferent whether the pleroma is or is not, since in everything it is balanced and void. Not so creatura. In so far as god and devil are creatura they do not extinguish each other, but stand one against the other as effective opposites. We need no proof of their existence. It is enough that we must always be speaking of them. Even if both were not, creatura, of its own essential distinctiveness, would forever distinguish them anew out of the pleroma.

Everything that discrimination taketh out of the pleroma is a pair of opposites. To god, therefore, always belongeth the devil.

This inseparability is as close and, as your own life hath made you see, as indissoluble as the pleroma itself. Thus it is that both stand very close to the pleroma, in which all opposites are extinguished and joined.

God and devil are distinguished by the qualities of fullness and emptiness, generation and destruction. EFFECTIVENESS is common to both. Effectiveness joineth them. Effectiveness, therefore, standeth above both; is a god above god, since in its effect it uniteth fullness and emptiness.

This is a god whom ye knew not, for mankind forgot it. We name it by its name ABRAXAS. It is more indefinite still than god and devil.

That god may be distinguished from it, we name god HELIOS or sun. Abraxas is effect. Nothing standeth opposed to it but the ineffective; hence its effective nature freely unfoldeth itself. The ineffective is not, therefore resisteth not. Abraxas standeth above the sun and above the devil. It is improbable probability, unreal reality. Had the pleroma a being, Abraxas would be its manifestation. It is the effective itself, not any particular effect, but effect in general.

It is unreal reality, because it hath no definite effect.

It is also creatura, because it is distinct from the pleroma.

The sun hath a definite effect, and so hath the devil. Wherefore do they appear to us more effective than indefinite Abraxas.

It is force, duration, change.



The dead now raised a great tumult, for they were Christians.





Sermo III



Like mists arising from a marsh, the dead came near and cried: Speak further unto us concerning the supreme god.

Hard to know is the deity of Abraxas. Its power is the greatest, because man perceiveth it not. From the sun he draweth the summum bonum; from the devil the infinum malum: but from Abraxas LIFE, altogether indefinite, the mother of good and evil.

Smaller and weaker life seemeth to be than the summum bonum; wherefore is it also hard to conceive that Abraxas transcendeth even the sun in power, who is himself the radient source of all the force of life.

Abraxas is the sun, and at the same time the eternally sucking gorge of the void, the belittling and dismembering devil.

The power of Abraxas is twofold; but ye see it not, because for your eyes the warring opposites of this power are extinguished.

What the god-sun speaketh is life.

What the devil speaketh is death.

But Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word which is life and death at the same time.

Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness, in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible.

It is splendid as the lion in the instant he striketh down his victim. It is beautiful as a day in spring. It is the great Pan himself and also the small one. It is Priapos.

It is the monster of the under-world, a thousand-armed polyp, coiled knot of winged serpents, frenzy.

It is the hermaphrodite of the earliest beginning.

It is the lord of the toads and frogs,, which live in the water and gets up on the land, whose chorus ascendeth at noon and at midnight.

It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness.

It is holy begetting.

It is love and love’s murder.

It is the saint and his betrayer.

It is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness.

To look upon it, is blindness.

To know it, is sickness.

To worship it, is death.

To fear it, is wisdom.

To resist it not, is redemption.

God dwelleth behind the sun, the devil behind the night. What god bringeth forth out of the light the devil sucketh into the night. But Abraxas is the world, its becoming and its passing. Upon every gift that cometh from the god-sun the devil layeth his curse.

Everything that ye entreat from the god-sun begetteth a deed of the devil.

Everything that ye create with the god-sun giveth effective power to the devil.

That is terrible Abraxas.

It is the mightiest creature, and in it the creature is afraid of itself.

It is the manifest opposition to the pleroma and its nothingness.

It is the son’s horror of the mother.

It is the mother’s love for the son.

It is the delight of the earth and the cruelty of the heavens.

Before its countenance man becometh like stone.

Before it there is no question and no reply.

It is the life of creatura.

It is the operation of distinctiveness.

It is the love of man.

It is the speech of man.

It is the appearance and the shadow of man.

It is illusory reality.



Now the dead howled and raged, for they were unperfected.





Sermo IV



The dead filled the place murmuring and said:

Tell us of gods and devils, accursed one!

The god-sun is the highest good, the devil its opposite. Thus have ye two gods. But there are many high and good things and many great evils. Among these are two god-devils; the one is the BURNING ONE, the other the GROWING ONE.

The burning one is EROS, who hath the form of flame. Flame giveth light because it consumeth.

The growing one is the TREE OF LIFE. It buddeth, as in growing it heapeth up living stuff.

Eros flameth up and dieth. But the tree of life groweth with slow and constant increase through unmeasured time.

Good and evil are united in the flame.

Good and evil are united in the increase of the tree. In their divinity stand life and love opposed.

Innumerable as the host of the stars is the number of gods and devils.

Each star is a god, and each space that a star filleth is a devil. But the empty-fullness of the whole is the pleroma.

The operation of the whole is Abraxas, to whom only the ineffective standeth opposed.

Four is the number of the principal gods, as four is the number of the world’s measurements.

One is the beginning, the god-sun.

Two is Eros; for he bindeth twain together and outspreadeth himself in brightness.

Three is the Tree of Life, for it filleth space with bodily forms.

Four is the devil, for he openeth all that is closed. All that is formed of bodily nature doth he dissolve; he is the destroyer in whom everything is brought to nothing.

For me, to whom knowledge hath been given of the multiplicity and diversity of the gods, it is well. But woe unto you, who replace these incompatible many by a single god. For in so doing ye beget the torment which is bred from not understanding, and ye mutilate the creature whose nature and aim is distinctiveness. How can ye be true to your own nature when ye try to change the many into one? What ye do unto the gods is done likewise unto you. Ye all become equal and thus is your nature maimed.

Equalities shall prevail not for god, but only for the sake of man. For the gods are many, whilst men are few. The gods are mighty and can endure their manifoldness. For like the stars they abide in solitude, parted one from the other by immense distances. But men are weak and cannot endure their manifold nature. Therefore they dwell together and need communion, that they may bear their separateness. For redemtion’s sake I teach you the rejected truth, for the sake of which I was rejected.

The multiplicity of the gods correspondeth to the multiplicity of man.

Numberless gods await the human state. Numberless gods have been men. Man shareth in nature of the gods. He cometh from the gods and goeth unto god.

Thus, just as it serveth not to reflect upon the plerome, it availeth not to worship the multiplicity of the gods. Least of all availeth it to worship the first god, the effective abundance and the summum bonum. By our prayer we can add to it nothing, and from it nothing take; because the effective void swalloweth all.

The bright gods form the celestial world. It is manifold and infinitely spreading and increasing. The god-sun is the supreme lord of the world.

The dark gods form the earth-world. They are simple and infinitely diminishing and declining. The devil is the earth-world’s lowest lord, the moon-spirit, satellite of the earth, smaller, colder, and more dead than the earth.

There is no difference between the might of the celestial gods and those of the earth. The celestial gods magnify, the earth-gods diminish. Measurelesss is the movement of both.





Sermo V



The dead mocked and cried: Teach us, fool, of the church and holy communion.

The world of the gods is made manifest in spirituality and in sexuality. The celestial ones appear in spirituality, the earthly in sexuality.

Spirituality conceiveth and embraceth. It is womanlike and therefore we call it MATER COELESTIS, the celestial mother. Sexuality engendereth and createth. It is manlike, and therefore we call it PHALLOS, the earthly father.

The sexuality of man is more of the earth, the sexuality of woman is more of the spirit.

The spirituality of man is more of heaven, it goeth to the greater.

The spirituality of woman is more of the earth, it goeth to the smaller.

Lying and devilish is the spirituality of the man which goeth to the smaller.

Lying and devilish is the spirituality of the woman which goeth to the greater.

Each must go to its own place.

Man and woman become devils one to the other when they divide not their spiritual ways, for the nature of the creatura is distinctiveness.

The sexuality of man hath an earthward course, the sexuality of woman a spiritual. Man and woman become devils one to the other if they distinguish not their sexuality.

Man shall know of the smaller, woman the greater.

Man shall distinguish himself both from spirituality and from sexuality. He shall call spirituality Mother, and set her between heaven and earth. He shall call sexuality Phallos, and set him between himself and earth. For the Mother and the Phallos are super-human daemons which reveal the world of the gods. They are for us more effective than the gods, because they are closely akin to our own nature. Should ye not distinguish yourselves from sexuality and from spirituality, and not regard them as of a nature both above you and beyond, then are ye delivered over to them as qualities of the pleroma. Spirituality and sexuality are not your qualities, not things which ye possess and contain. But they possess and contain you; for they are powerful daemons, manifestations of the gods, and are, therefore, things which reach beyond you, existing in themselves. No man hath a spirituality unto himself, or a sexuality unto himself. But he standeth under the law of Spirituality and of sexuality.

No man, therefore, escapeth these daemons. Ye shall look upn them as daemons, and as a common task and danger, a common burden which life hath laid upon you. Thus is life for you also a common task and danger, as are the gods, and first of all terrible Abraxas.

Man is weak, therefore is communion indispensable. If your communion be not under the sign of the Mother, then is it under the sign of the Phallos. No communion is suffering and sickness. Communion in everything is dismemberment and dissolution.

Distinctiveness leadeth to singleness. Singleness is opposed to communion. But because of man’s weakness over against the gods and daemons and their invincible law is communion needful, not for man’s sake, but because of the gods. The gods force you to communion. As much as they force you, so much is the communion needed, more is evil.

In communion let every man submit to others, that communion be maintained; for ye need it.

In singleness the one man shall be superior to the others, that every man may come to himself and avoid slavery.

In communion there shall be continence.

In singleness there shall be prodigality.

Communion is depth.

Singleness is height.

Right measure in communion purifieth and preserveth.

Right measure in singleness purifieth and increaseth.

Communion giveth us warmth, singleness giveth us light.





Sermo VI



The daemon of sexuality approacheth our soul as a serpent. It is half human and appeareth as thought-desire.

The daemon of spirituality descendeth into our soul as the white bird. It is half human and appeareth as desire-thought.

The serpent is an earthly soul, half daemonic, a spirit, and akin to the spirits of the dead. Thus too, like these, she swarmeth around in the things of earth, making us either to fear them or pricking us with intemperate desires. The serpent hath a nature like unto woman. She seeketh company of the dead who are held by the spell of the earth, they who found not the way beyond that leadeth to singleness. The serpent is a whore. She wantoneth with the devil and with evil spirits; a mischievous tyrant and tormentor, ever seducing to evilest company. The White Bird is a half-celestial soul of man. He bideth with the Mother, from time to time descending. The bird hath a nature like unto man, and is effective thought. He is chaste and solitary, a messenger of the Mother. He flieth high above earth. He commandeth singleness. He bringeth knowledge from the distant ones who went before and are perfected. He beareth our word above to the Mother. She intercedeth, she warneth, but against the gods she hath no power. She is a vessel of the sun. The serpent goeth below and with her cunning she lameth the phallic daemon, or else goadeth him on. She yieldeth up the too crafty thoughts of the earthy one, those thoughts which creep through every hole and cleave to all things with desirousness. The serpent, doubtless, willeth it not, yet she must be of use to us. She fleeth our grasp, thus showing us the way, which with our human wits we could not find.

With disdainful glance the dead spake: Cease this talk of gods and daemons and souls. At bottom this hath long been known to us.





Sermo VII



Yet when night was come the dead again approached with lamentable mien and said: There is yet one matter we forgot to mention. Teach us about man.

Man is a gateway, through which from the outer world of gods, daemons, and souls ye pass into the inner world; out of the greater into the smaller world. Small and transitory is man. Already is he behind you, and once again ye find yourselves in endless space, in the smaller or innermost infinity. At immeasurable distance standeth one single Star in the zenith.

This is the one god of this one man. This is his world, his pleroma, his divinity.

In this world is man Abraxas, the creator and destroyer of his one world.

This Star is the god and the goal of man.

This is his one guiding god. In him goeth man to his rest. Toward him goeth the long journey of the soul after death. In him shineth forth as light all that man bringeth back from the greater world. To this one god man shall pray.

Prayer increaseth the light of the Star. It casteth a bridge over death. It prepareth life for the smaller world and assuageth the hopleless desires of the greater.

When the greater world waxeth cold, burneth the Star.

Between man and his one god there standeth nothing, so long as man can turn away his eyes from the flaming spectacle of Abraxas.

Man here, god there.

Weakness and nothingness here, there eternally creative power.

Here nothing but darkness and chilling moisture.

There wholly sun.



Whereupon the dead were silent and ascended like the smoke above the herdman’s fire, who through the night kept watch over his flock.



ANAGRAMMA:

NAHTRIHECCUNDE

GAHINNEVERAHTUNIN

ZEHGESSURKLACH

ZUNNUS.

Carl Jung: It would all look hopelessly haphazard and pretty flimsy

Dear Dr. Rhine, September 18, 1945

Your letter has been a great joy to me.

I have often thought of you in these last years and I also often mentioned your name and your experiments to many people.

I wish I could fulfill your wish but having a scientific conscience I feel very hesitant about it since, being a doctor, my observations are all of a clinical kind, which means that they are unavoidably subjective to a certain extent and never systematic in as much as they are all isolated cases and facts which form a rather incoherent mass, which would look like a collection of anecdotes.

I despise such a way of dealing with this matter and I would much prefer to be in a position to deal with a coherent material collected along certain scientific lines.

Of course I have had quite a number of noteworthy experiences, but you know how it is: circumstances and persons involved, though indispensably important for the explanation of the facts, cannot be described in a way that would convince the outsider.

It would all look hopelessly haphazard and pretty flimsy.

As you assume, I have thought a great deal about parapsychological facts and I tried to establish certain connections, but I always refrain from talking publicly about such matters for the above mentioned reasons. (pp. 378-379) ~Carl Jung, Rhine-Jung Letters, Page 18.

Carl Jung: Synchronicity is indeed a difficult and involved problem.

Prof. J. B. Rhine July 26, 1954
Parapsychological Laboratory
College Station
Durham, N. C.

Dear Professor Rhine,

Thank you for your kind letter!

Synchronicity is indeed a difficult and involved problem.

The translation of my book into English is finished and the printing must be on the way, so that you will have a chance to read it rather soon.

I must warn you though that in spite of all sorts of alterations I have made, it is still a difficult book that appeals chiefly to the thinking function as it consists in its main substance of the description of a point of view rather unfamiliar to our epoch.

Certain main points of my book have not been understood at all, but that is what I have always seen with my books: I just have to wait for about 10 or 20 years until certain readers appear understanding what my thought is.

That sounds most arrogant, and everybody is free to think that I am writing a particularly unclear and obscure style.

The writer himself has to suspend his own judgment.

As far as I can see, my book has not had any noticeable effect yet, with the exception of Prof. Bender's experiments.

I have seen him recently, and he told me that he pursues his experiments with success.

My best wishes to you; I always remember our rather noisy lunch at the Ambassador's.

We must give up at the outset all explanations in terms of energy, which amounts to saying that events of this kind cannot be considered from the point of view of causality, for causality presupposes the existence of space and time in so far as all observations are ultimately based upon bodies in motion. (Jung, CW 9, para. 836) ~Carl Jung, Rhine-Jung Letters, Page 5

Carl Jung's Appraisal of Freudian Psychosexual Development

Dr. Evans: One of the very fundamental ideas of the original psychoanalytic theory was Freud's conception of the libido as a sort of broad,
psychic sexual energy. Of course, we all know that you began to feel that Dr. Freud might have laid, perhaps, a little too much stress on
sexuality in his theories.When did you first begin feeling this?

Dr. Jung: In the beginning, I had naturally certain prejudices against this conception, and after a while, I overcame them.

I could do that from the weight of my biological training.

I could not deny the impulses of the sexual instinct, you know.

Later on, however, I saw that it was really one-sided because, you see, man is not only governed by the sex instinct; there are other instincts
as well. For instance, in biology you see that the nutritional instinct is just as important as the sex instinct.Although in primitive societies
sexuality plays a role, food does much more.

Food is the all-important interest and desire.

Sex—that is something they can have everywhere —they are not tried. But food is difficult to obtain, you see, and so it is the main interest.

Then in other societies—I mean civilized societies— the power drive plays a much greater role than sex. For instance, there are many big
business men who are impotent because their full energy is going into money making or dictating the roles to everybody ‐ else. That is much
more interesting to them than the affairs of women.

Dr. Evans: So in a sense, as you began to look over Dr. Freud's emphasis on sexual drive, you began to think in terms of other cultures, and
it seemed to you that this emphasis was not of sufficient universality to be assessed primary importance.

Dr. Jung: Well, you know, I couldn't help seeing it, because I had studied Nietzsche.

I knew the work of Nietzsche very well.

He had been a professor at Basel University, and the air was full of talk about Nietzsche; so naturally I had studied his works.And from this I saw an entirely different psychology, which was also psychology—a perfectly competent psychology, but built upon the power drive.

Dr. Evans: Do you think it possible that Dr. Freud was either ignoring Nietzsche, or had perhaps not wanted to be influenced by Nietzsche?

Dr. Jung: You mean his personal motivation?

Dr. Evans: Yes.

Dr. Jung: Of course it was a personal prejudice.It happened to be his main point, you know, that certain people are chiefly looking for this
side, and other people are looking for another side.

So, you see, the inferior Dr. Adler, the younger and weaker, naturally had a power complex.

He wanted to be the successful man.

Freud was a successful man; he was on top, and so he was interested only in pleasure and the pleasure principle, and Adler was interested in the power drive.

Dr. Evans: You feel that it was a sort of function of Dr. Freud's own personality?

Dr. Jung: Yes, it is quite natural; it is one of two ways how to deal with reality.

Either you make reality an object of pleasure, if you are powerful enough already; or you make it an object of your desire to grab or to possess.

Dr. Evans: Some observers have speculated that the patients whom Dr. Freud saw in the Vienna of this period were so often sexually
repressed that they may have been representative of a cultural type; or, in other words, since these patients were a part of a Viennese
society, believed to have been a rather "repressed" society, Freud's patients, perhaps, demonstrated an undue tendency to react to sexual
frustration, reinforcing his ideas of a sexual libido.

Dr. Jung: Well, it is certainly so that at the end of the Victorian age there was a reaction going over the whole world against the sex taboos,
so-called.One didn't properly understand any more why or why not; and Freud belongs in that time, a sort of liberation of the mind of such
taboos.

Dr. Evans: There was a reaction, then, against the sort of tight, inhibited culture he was living in.

Dr. Jung: Yes, Freud, in that way—on that side, really belonged to the category of a Nietzschean mind.

Nietzsche had liberated Europe from a great deal of such prejudices, but only concerning the power drive and our illusions as to motivations of our morality.It was a time critical of morality.

Dr. Evans: So Dr. Freud, in a sense, was taking it from another direction—

Dr. Jung: Yes.And then, moreover, sex being the main instinct and the dominating instinct in a more or less safe society, when the social
conditions are more or less safe, sexuality is apt to predominate because people are taken care of.They have their positions.

They have enough food. When there is no question of hunting or seeking food, or something like that, then it is quite probable that patients you meet have more or less all some sexual complex.

Dr. Evans: So the sex drive is potentially the drive in that particular society most likely to be inhibited?

Dr. Jung: Yes.It is a sort of finesse, almost, when you find out that somebody has a power-drive and their sex only serves the purpose of
power.

For instance, a charming man whom all women think is the real hero of all hearts; he is a power-fable, like a Don Juan, you know.

The woman is not his problem; his problem is how to dominate.

So in the second place after sex comes the power drive, and even that is not the end.

Dr. Evans: To proceed further, in the orthodox psychoanalytic view, as you well know, there is much attention paid to what Freud called
psychosexual development, in that the individual encounters a series of problems in sequence which he must resolve in order to progressively
mature. It appears that one of the earliest problems the individual seems to have centers around, you might say, primitive oral satisfactions;
or oral zone experiences, including weaning, represent some of the first frustrations for the infant.

Dr. Jung: I think, you see, that when Freud says that one of the first interests, and the foremost interest is to feed, he doesn't need such a
peculiar kind of terminology like "oral zone." Of course, they put it into the mouth—

Dr. Evans: Then you look at Freud's oral level of development in a less complicated sense without a sexual connotation?

Dr. Jung: Science consists to a great extent of meal talk.

Dr. Evans: In summary then, Dr. Jung, with reference to the oral level of development, you prefer to look at it rather literally, as a sort of
hunger drive or drive for nutrition. Another rather fundamental point in the development of the ego in the orthodox psychoanalytic view is that the oral level is followed by another critical level, an anal level of development.At this level another crucial, early frustration arises; that is, frustration centering around the problem of toilet-training. In Ego development and later character formation, Freud saw poor resolution of such problems as being rather serious.

Dr. Jung: Well, one can use such terminology because it is a fact that children are exceedingly interested in all orifices of the body and in
doing all sorts of disgusting things, and sometimes such a peculiarity keeps on into later life.

It is quite astonishing what you can hear in this respect. Now it is equally true that people who have such prevalences also develop a peculiar character.

In early childhood a character is already there.

You see, a child is not born tabula rasa as one assumes.

The child is born as a high complexity, with existing determinants that never waver through the whole life, and that give the child his character.

Already, in earliest childhood, a mother recognizes the individuality of her child; and so, if you observe carefully, you see a tremendous difference, even in very small children.

These peculiarities express themselves in every way.

First, the peculiarities express themselves in all childish activities—in the way he plays, in the things he is interested in.

There are children who are tremendously interested in all moving things, in the movement chiefly, and in all things they see that affect the body.

So they are interested in what the eyes do, what the ears do, how far you can bore into the nose with your finger, you know.

They will do the same to the anus; they will do whatever they please with their genitals.

For instance, when I was in school, we once stole the class book where all the punishments were noted, and there our professor of religion had noted, "So-and-so punished with two hours because he was toying with his genitals during the religious hour."

These interests express themselves in a typically childish way in children.

Later on they express themselves in other peculiarities which are still the same, but it doesn't come from the fact that they once had done such and such a thing in childhood.

It is the character that is doing it. There is a definite complexity, and if you want to know something about possible reasons, you must go to the parents.

In any case of a child's neurosis, I go back to the parents and see what is going on there, because children have no psychology of their own,
literally taken.

They are so much in the mental atmosphere of the parents, so much a participation mystique with the parents.

They are imbued by the maternal or paternal atmosphere, and they express these influences in their childish way. For instance, take an illegitimate child.

They are particularly exposed to environmental difficulties such as the misfortune of the mother, etcetera, etcetera, and all the
complications.

Such a child will miss, for instance, a father. Now in order to compensate for this, it is just as if they were choosing or
nominating a part of their body for a father, a substitution for the father, and they develop, for instance, masturbation. That is very often so of illegitimate children; they become terribly autoerotic, even criminal.

Dr. Evans: With reference to the role of the parents in development, one of the central parts of psychosexual development in orthodox
psychoanalytic theory is the Oedipal level of development.It is at this level that the problem of premature sexuality relating to the opposite
sex parent emerges.This problem, like the earlier ones mentioned, must also be resolved, or it will result in the formation of an Oedipus
complex.

Dr. Jung: That is just what I call an archetype.

That is the first archetype Freud discovered; the first and the only one.

He thought that this WAS the archetype.Of course, there are many such archetypes.

You look at Greek mythology and you find them, any amount of them.

Or look at dreams and you find any amount of them.

To Freud, however, incest was so impressive that he chose the term "Oedipus Complex," because that was one of the outstanding examples of an incest complex; though, mind you, it is only in the masculine form, because women have an incest complex too which, to Freud, was not an Oedipus.So it is something else?

He saw this only as a term for an archetypal way of behavior.

In the case of a man—a man's relation, say, to his mother.

He also means to his daughter because whatever he was to his mother, he will be it to the daughter too.

It can be this way or that way.

Dr. Evans: Then you believe, in other words, that the Oedipus complex is not as important an influence in itself as Freud did, but that it is
only one of many archetypes?


Dr. Jung: Yes.It is only one of the many, many ways of behavior. Oedipus gives you an excellent example of the behavior of an archetype.

It is always a whole situation.

There is a mother; there is a father; there is a son; so there is a whole story of how such a situation develops and to what end it leads finally. That is an archetype.

An archetype always is a sort of abbreviated drama.

It begins in such and such a way, extends to such and such a complication, and finds its solution in such and such a way.

That is the usual form. For instance, take the instinct in birds of building their nests.

In the way they build the nests, there is the beginning, the middle, and the end. The nests are built just to suffice for a certain number of young.

The end is already anticipated.

That is the reason why, in the archetype, it is hard.

There is no time; it is a timeless condition where beginning, middle, and end are just the same; they are all given in one.

That is only a hint to what the archetype can do, you know, but that is a complicated question.

Dr. Evans: To discuss more specifically Freud's concept of the Oedipus complex, a rather commonly held belief, again within the confines of
orthodox psychoanalytic theory, is that, in a sense, the child's early family behavior patterns with the mother, the father, etc., are to some
extent repeatedly relived, and can be regarded as a "repetition compulsion." For example, when the young man gets married, he may react to
his wife as he did to his mother, or he may be searching for someone like his mother.Likewise, the daughter, as she looks for a husband, may
be searching for a father. This will be repeated over and over again. This appears to be the heart of what the early Freudians were theorizing.Now, does this type of recapitulation of the very early Oedipus situation fit in with your conceptions?

Dr. Jung: No.You see, Freud speaks of the incest complex just in the way you describe, but he omits completely the fact that with this
Oedipus complex, he is only giving the contrary—namely, the resistance against it.For instance, if the Oedipus pattern were really
predominant, we would have been suffocated in incest half a million years ago, at least.

But there is a compensation. In all of the early levels of civilization you find the marriage laws, namely, exogamic laws.

The first form, the most elemental form, is that the man can marry his cousin on the maternal side.

The next form is that the man can only marry his cousin in the second degree, namely, from the grandmother.

There are four systems; quarter marriages, systems of 8 and 12, and a 6-system.

In China, there are still traces of both a 12-system and of a 6-system.

And those are developments beyond the incest complex and against the incest complex.Now if sexuality is predominant, particularly incestual sexuality, how can it develop?

These things have developed in a time long before there was any idea of a child—say of my sister.

That's all wrong. On the contrary, it was a royal prerogative as late as the Caanite kings in Persia, and among the Egyptian Pharaohs, that the Pharaoh had a daughter from his sister; he married that daughter and had a child with her, and then married his granddaughter.

Because that was royal prerogative.

You see, the preservation of the royal blood is always a sort of attempt at the highly appreciated incestuous restriction of the numbers of ancestors, because this is loss of ancestors. Now, you see, that must be explained too.

There is not only the one thing that shows its compensation.

You know this plays a very great role in the history of human civilization.

Freud is always inclined to explain these things by external influences.For instance, you would not feel hampered in any way if there were not
a law against it.

No one is hampered by one's self. And that's what he never could admit to me. ~Carl Jung, Conversations with Richard L. Evans, Pages 11-14

Carl Jung Relating to Freud, Adler, and Rank

Dr. Evans: Dr. Jung, many of us who have read a great deal of your work are aware of the fact that in your early work you were in association with Dr. Sigmund Freud, and I know it would be of great interest to many of us to hear how you happened to hear of Dr. Freud and how you happened to become involved with some of his work and ideas.

Dr. Jung: Well, as a matter of fact, it was the year 1900, in December, soon after Freud's book about dream interpretation had come out, that I was asked by my chief, Professor Bleuler, to give a review of the book.

I studied the book very attentively, and I did not understand many things in it, which were not clear to me at all; but from other parts I got the impression that this man really knew what he was talking about.

I thought "this is certainly a masterpiece—full of future."

I had no ideas then of my own; I was just beginning.

It was just when I began my career as assistant in the psychiatric clinic.

And then I began with experimental psychology or psychopathology.

I applied the experimental association methods of Wundt, the same that had been applied in the psychiatric clinic in Munich, and I studied the results and had the idea that one should go once more over it.

So I made use of the association tests, and I found out that the important thing in them has been missed, because it is not interesting to see that there is a reaction—a certain reaction—to a stimulus word.

That is more or less uninteresting. But the interesting thing is why people could not react to certain stimulus words, or only react in an entirely inadequate way.

Then I began to study these places in the experiment where the attention, or the capability of this person apparently began to waver or to disappear, and I soon found out that it was a matter of intimate personal affairs people were thinking of, or which were in them, even if they momentarily did not think of them when they were unconscious with other words; that the inhibition came from the unconscious and hindered the expression in speech.

Then, in examining all these cases as carefully as possible, I saw that it was a matter of what Freud called repressions.

I also saw what he meant by symbolization.

Dr. Evans: In other words, from your word association studies, some of the things in The Interpretation of Dreams ( 10 ) began to fall into place.

Dr. Jung: Yes! And then I wrote a book about psychology of dementia praecox, as it was called then— now it is schizophrenia—and I sent the book to Freud, writing to him about my association experiments and how they confirmed his theory thus far. That is how my friendship with Freud began.

Dr. Evans: There were other individuals who also became interested in Dr. Freud's work, and one of them was Dr. Alfred Adler. As you remember Dr. Adler, what in your estimation led him to become interested in Dr. Freud's work?

Dr. Jung: He belonged; he was one of the young doctors that belonged to his surroundings there.

There were about twenty young doctors who followed Freud there, who were—who had a sort of little society.

Adler was one who happened to be there, and he learned— he studied Freud's psychology in that circle.

Dr. Evans: Another individual, of course, who joined this group was Otto Rank, and he, unlike yourself, Dr. Adler, and Dr. Freud was not a physician; did not have the Doctor of Medicine degree. Was this regarded by your group at the time as something unusual, to have someone become interested in these ideas who was not by training a physician?

Dr. Jung: Oh no! I have met many people who represented different faculties who were interested in psychology.

All people who had to do with human beings were naturally interested; theologians, lawyers, pedagogues; they all had to do with the human mind and these people were naturally interested.

Dr. Evans: Then your group, including Freud, did not feel that this was exclusively an area of interest for the physician? This was something that might appeal to many?

Dr. Jung: Oh my, yes! Mind you, every patient you have gets interested in psychology.

Nearly everyone thinks he is meant to be an analyst, inevitably. ~Carl Jung, Conversations with Carl Jung and Richard L. Evans, Page 11.

Carl Jung Quotations from "Jung-Neumann Letters"

I am not quarrelsome but combative by nature and I cannot conceal from you my secret pleasure. ~Carl Jung to Erich Neumann, Letters Vol. 1, Page 515.

Since your admirable capacity for work has always remained loyal to you, despite your grumbles to the contrary, may it continue so to your and our pleasure and gratitude. ~Erich Neumann to Carl Jung Correspondence, 20Dec1957.

He [A patient being referred] is desperate for therapy, and needs it too—as he basically consists of an intellectual halo wandering lonely and footless through the world. ~Carl Jung to Erich Neumann, 11Sept1933.

That Buber has a bad conscience arises from the fact that he only publishes his letters, but does not grant me a fair representation because I am just a Gnostic and at the same time he has no idea about what motivated the Gnostic. ~Jung to Neumann Correspondence, 30 Jan 1954.

Certainly the Jews have lived much longer in other countries but without the contact to the soil that was not accessible to them due to their being rooted in the Torah. ~Erich Neumann, Jung Correspondence 30 Jan 1936

My wife would urgently like to work with Miss Wolff and I consider this also to be crucially important, after that it must be decided whether she will work more in this direction. ~Erich Neumann, Jung Correspondence 30 Jan 1936

Carl Jung Quotations from "Wounded Healer of the Soul" by Claire Dunne

He [Jung] told Laurens van der Post that he worked through 67,000 dreams with patients and helpers before even attempting to theorize about them. ~Claire Dunne, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 85.

On May 6, 1961, too frail for his daily walk, Jung was driven around some of his favorite roads, saying goodbye to the countryside. ~Claire Dunne, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 214.

I have been alternately accused of agnosticism, atheism, materialism and mysticism. ~Carl Jung, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 207.

When he [Jung] said, "Pull up your chair, for I am getting deaf and old and stupid," I could not help smiling as I reminded him that he had made exactly the same remark to me, just eleven years earlier. He replied with a chuckle "Well, it doesn't seem to get any better." ~Mary Crile, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Pages 194-195.

His "autobiography" he came to reluctantly; it was "the one thing I am not going to write" he had said in 1948. Strictly speaking, it is not an autobiography. He always spoke and wrote of it as "Aniela Jaffe's project," with contributions made by him in the form of childhood, travel, and closing chapters. ~Claire Dunne, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 194.

The publication of Jung's deepest book, Mysterium Coniunctionis, was met with "stony incomprehension. . . at least for the time being." Although he wrote, "I have resigned myself to being posthumous," he also confessed, "sometimes I feel like an anachronism even to myself." ~Claire Dunne, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 182.

When I asked him what he was writing he said, "My biography. . . . It is purgatory. Frau Jaffe is writing it but I must check it all because no one knows someone else's life. I have done the first twenty years because one can be more objective there." ~Mary Crile, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Pages 194-195.

He paused and then added thoughtfully, "I don't know the meaning of life." As he said this I felt that, even for Jung, who more than anyone else in our day saw life steadily and saw it whole, there still remained an unsolved mystery. ~Mary Crile, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Pages 194-195.

He [Jung] corresponded with international writers Hermann Hesse, James Joyce, Erich Neumann, Miguel Serrano, Sir Laurens van der Post, Sir Herbert Read, Upton Sinclair, J. B. Priestley, H. G. Wells, and Count Keyserling. ~Claire Dunne, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 166.

"The Christian symbol is a living being that carries the seeds of further development in itself." "its foundations remain the same eternally," "Christianity must be interpreted anew in each aeon," otherwise "it suffocates in traditionalism." ~Carl Jung, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 149.

“God must be born in man forever. . . the creator sees himself through the eyes of man's consciousness." ~Carl Jung, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 147.

"THE TREATISE ON RESURRECTION" [Jung Codex]

THE TREATISE ON RESURRECTION

My son Rheginos, some people want to become learned. That is their purpose when they begin to solve unsolved problems. If they succeed, they are proud. But I do not think they have stood in the word of truth. Rather, they seek their own rest, which we have received from our savior and our lord, the Christ. We received rest when we came to know the truth and rested on it.

Since your pleasant question concerns what is the truth about the resurrection, I am writing you today to tell you. Many do not believe in it, but a few find it. So let us see.

How did the lord proclaim things while he was in flesh and after he had revealed himself to be the son of god? He lived in this world that you live in, speaking about the law of nature, which I call death. And more, Rheginos, the son of god became a human son. He embraced both qualities, possessing humanity and divinity so he could, by being the son of god, conquer death, and, by being the human son, restore the pleroma. At the beginning he was above as a seed of truth, which was before the cosmos came into being. In the cosmic structure many dominions and divinities have come into being.

I know that I am presenting the problem in difficult words, but there is nothing in the word of truth that is difficult. After the solution appeared, to ensure that nothing be hidden and everything be openly revealed, there are two essentials: the destruction of evil and the revelation of the elect. This solution entails the emanation of truth and spirit, and of grace bestowed by truth.

The savior swallowed death. You must know this. He laid aside the perishable world and made himself into an imperishable aeon, raised himself up, and swallowed the visible with the invisible. Thereby he gave us our immortality. Then, as the messenger Paul said of him, “We suffered with him, we rose with him, and we entered heaven with him.” Now, since we are seen in this world, we wear it like a garment. From the savior we radiate beams, and we are held in his arms until our own sunset, our death in this life. We are drawn to heaven by him, like beams, by the sun, and nothing holds us down. This is the resurrection of the spirit, which swallows up the soul and the flesh.

If you cannot believe, you cannot be persuaded. My son, these matters belong to the domain of faith, and not to persuasive argument, in asserting that the dead will rise. Among the philosophers in the world there may be one who believes. Certainly that philosopher will rise. And let that philosopher here on earth not believe that he is returning to the self by himself, and because of faith. We have known the human son, and we believe that he rose from among the dead. We say of him, “He is the destroyer of death.”

The goal as well as its believers is great. And the thinking mind of believers will not disappear, nor will the mind of those who know. We are chosen for salvation and redemption, since from the beginning we were predestined not to fall into the folly of the ignorant. We shall enter into the wisdom of those who have known the truth. Those who have wakened to the truth cannot abandon it. The system of the pleroma is strong. A small part of it is what broke loose to make up the world. What encompasses everything, the realm of all, did not come into being. It was. So never doubt the resurrection, my son Rheginos.

If you did not exist in flesh, you took on flesh when you entered the world. Why is it, then, that you will you not take your flesh with you when you rise into the aeon? What is better than flesh is what animates. What came into being because of you, is it not yours? Doesn’t it exist with you? But while you are in the world, what are you missing? That is precisely what you have attempted to learn.

After the birth of the body comes old age, and you exist in corruption. But what you lack is a gain. You will not give up the better part when you leave. The inferior part suffers, but it finds grace. Nothing redeems us from this world, but we are members of the realm of all and are saved. We have received salvation from start to finish. Let us think in this way, let us comprehend in this way.

Some ask whether one will be saved immediately, if the body is left behind. Let no one doubt. The visible parts of the body that are dead will not be saved. Only the living parts that exist inside will rise. What is the resurrection? It is the revelation of those who have risen. If you remember reading in the gospel that Elijah appeared and Moses with him, do not suppose that the resurrection is an illusion. It is no illusion. It is truth. It is more proper to say that the world is illusion, rather than the resurrection that is because of our lord the savior, Jesus the Christ.

What am I telling you now? The living will die.

How do they live in illusion?

The rich become poor and kings are overthrown.

All changes. The world is an illusion.

Why do I seem to shout?

The resurrection has nothing of this character.

It is truth standing firm. It is revelation of what is,
and the transformation of things,
and a transition into freshness.

Incorruptibility floods over corruption.

Light rivers down upon the darkness, swallowing obscurity.

The pleroma fills the hollow.

These are the symbols and images of resurrection.


They establish its goodness.

O Rheginos, do not lose yourself in details, nor live obeying the flesh for the sake of harmony. Flee from being scattered and being in bondage, and then you already have resurrection. If you know what in yourself will die, though you have lived many years, why not look at yourself and see yourself risen now? You have the resurrection, yet you go on as if you are to die when it is only the part destined to die that is moribund. Why do I put up with your poor training? Everyone finds a way, and there are many ways, to be released from this element and not to roam aimlessly in error, all with the end of recovering what one was at the beginning.

These words I have received from the generosity of my lord, Jesus the Christ. I have taught you and your brothers and sisters, who are my children, about them, and have omitted nothing that may strengthen you. If there is anything among these written words that is obscure, ask and I will explain.

Do not be worried about consulting anyone in your circle who can help. Many await what I have written to you. I say peace and grace be among them.

I greet you and whoever loves you with the love of family.

Carl Jung: "“On the Psychology of the Concept of the Trinity”

Lecture by Dr. C. G. Jung, Zürich “On the Psychology of the Concept of the Trinity”

Foreword

From a series of reactions, it has become clear to me that educated readers take exception to the psychological discussion of Christian symbols, even when these discussions carefully avoid questioning the symbols' religious value. My critics would likely raise fewer objections at the similar treatment of Buddhist symbols, whose sanctity is just as unquestionable.

What, however, is sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander.

What is more, I seriously question whether it is not much more dangerous for Christian symbols to be withheld from thoughtful understanding and to be removed to a sphere of inaccessible incomprehension.

They are all too easily withdrawn from understanding to such an extent that their irrationality becomes meaninglessness.

Belief is a charisma not granted to everyone. For this reason, human beings have the capacity of thought that should address the loftiest of things.

St. Paul and, subsequently, a long series of venerable church fathers, did not look upon the act of thinking about symbolism with as much anxious defensiveness as certain modern individuals.

This anxiety and this concern about Christian symbols is not a good sign.

If the symbols represent a higher reality, which my critics certainly do not doubt, then a science that addresses the symbolic understanding and proceeds unwisely can only make a fool of itself.

Moreover, I have never had the tendency to depotentiate the validity of symbols but occupy myself with them, because I am convinced of their psychological validity.

The man who merely believes and does not think, always forgets that he is the one constantly exposed to his very own enemy: doubt.

Doubt always lurks where belief rules.

For the thinking individual, on the other hand, doubt is always welcome, for it serves him as the most important step toward improved knowledge.

People who are able to believe should be somewhat tolerant of their fellow human beings who are only capable of thinking.

Belief has anticipated the summit that thinking strives to attain through laborious ascent.

The believing individual should not project doubt, his habitual enemy, onto those who think and thereby burden the latter with destructive intentions.

If those of old had not thought, we would have no doctrine of the Trinity at all.

That the doctrine is believed in, on the one hand, and serves, on the other hand, as an object of reflection proves its vitality.

The believer, therefore, should be glad that others also attempt to climb the mountain upon which he sits.

I. The Trinity

When I set about to discuss the Trinity, that central Christian symbol, from the psychological perspective, I do so with the awareness that I am entering an area seemingly far removed from psychology.

In my opinion though, religions, with all that they are and express, are so closely connected to the human soul that psychology least of all may disregard them.

A notion like the Trinity belongs so much to the realm of theology that today, of the secular disciplines, history at most deals with it.

People have even largely stopped thinking about dogma and specifically about a concept like the Trinity, which is so difficult to picture.

There are actually very few Christians any more—not to mention the educated public in general who seriously think about the meaning of the dogma and consider this concept a possible object of reflection.

Professor Speiser has linked the concept of the Trinity with Plato's Timaeus.

I expressly say, "Trinity," and not "triad." (Divine triads occurred already at the primitive level: there are an immense number of archaic triads in the old and exotic religions.

The grouping in triads is something like an archetype of the history of religion on which the threefold Christian Trinity may well be modeled.

Yet the Trinity is not an example of a triad, but of a tri-unity, a three-oneness, indivisibilis trinitas, that is fundamentally different from the triad corresponding to a "tri-theism."

Mere threeness is an unordered relationship of three entities in proximity to one another, while the Trinity is the joining together of three as one and, at the same time, an expansion of the one into three. The one is lacking in a triad without which the Trinity would be unthinkable.

Professor Speiser provided the derivation of the three from the one as it occurs in the Timaeus (31b to 32b).

The "one" lays claim to an exceptional position, which Professor Speiser has explained.

We find this same, exceptional position again in the natural philosophy of the Middle Ages.

For the latter, the "one" was not a number at all, only the "two" was. "Two" is the first number, because with it separation and increase occur and provide the basis on which counting first truly begins.

With "two" an "other" enters in addition to the "one," a phenomenon that makes an impression to such an extent that the word "other" in many languages means "second." This "second" or "other" refers to a "one" that differs from the "one" that is not a number.

With two, namely, one emerges from oneness, which means nothing less than that the separation has reduced and transformed oneness into a "number."

The "one" and the "other" form an opposition; not however one and two, for they are simple numbers that differ only in their arithmetic value and nothing else.

The "one" attempts to retain its single and solitary qualities, while the "other" strives to remain an other compared with the one.

The "one" does not want to release the "other," because it would thus lose its own quality, and the "other" rejects the "one" in order even to survive.

To such an extent, a tension of opposites results between the "one" and the "other."

Every tension of opposites requires a release valve from which the third comes into being.

The tension resolves itself in the third inasmuch as the lost "one" again emerges: "unitas ex semet ipsa derivans trinitatem," in the words of Tertullian.

The absolute One is innumerable, indeterminate, and unrecognizable; only when it appears in "one" does it become recognizable, for the "other" required for this recognition is missing in the condition of the One.

Three is, therefore, an unfolding of the one to recognizability, that is to reality in space and time.

A "one-next-to-another" is only possible in space and a "one-after-another" only in time.

Three is the "one" become reality, which without the resolution of the opposition between the "one" and the "other" would remain devoid of any quality in every determination.

That this formulation is a fitting parallel to God's Self- revelation as the absolute One in the unfolding of the three is immediately apparent.

The relationship of "threeness" to oneness can be expressed as an equilateral triangle: a=b=c, that is through the identity of the three, whereby the entirety of threeness is contained in each of the different designations.

This intellectual idea of the equilateral triangle is a cognitive pre-requisite for the idea of the Christian Trinity, as Professor Speiser has noted. The Platonic idea makes it possible for us to think at least somewhat logically yes, even mathematically, about the mysterious essence of the Trinity.

The true contours of the dogma, however, have very little to do with the logical formula.

The three designated aspects in the model, a=b=c, are characterized in a manner that cannot possibly be derived from the Platonic pre-requisites, inasmuch as the designations "Father," "Son," and "Holy Spirit" in no way follow from the three letters.

The Platonic formula only supplies an intellectual structure for contents that originate from completely different sources.

The Trinity may be largely grasped through the Platonic formula; as to contents, though, we have to depend on psychological factors, on irrational data that cannot be logically predetermined.

In other words, we have to differentiate between the logical idea of the Trinity and its psychological reality.

The psychological factors are the following: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

If we start with "Father," "Son" results logically from it; but neither from "Father" nor from "Son" does "Holy Ghost" result logically.

We must, again, be dealing with special circumstances that are due to psychological requirements. According to the ancient teachings, the "Holy Ghost" is "vera persona, quae a filio et patre missa est."

The "processio a patre filioque" is a "being breathed" and not a "procreation" (being "begotten") as is the case with the Son.

This somewhat unusual notion is in keeping with a separation already existing in the Middle Ages of corpus and spiramen (breathing), whereby the latter meant something more than just "breath."

That was actually the designation for the "anima," which is a being of breath as its name suggests (ánemos = wind).

While "breathing" is an activity of the body, when conceived of as autonomous it is a substance apart from the body.

The idea being expressed is that although the body lives, "life" is imagined as an additional, autonomous quality, namely as a soul independent of the body.

Applied to the formula of the Trinity, one would therefore have to say, "Father, Son," and "Life," where the latter emanates from both or is lived by both.

The Holy Ghost as "Life" is a concept that simply cannot be derived from the identity of Father and Son.

It is much more a psychological notion, that is, a factor based on an irrational, primordial idea.

In addition to the logic of the Platonic idea, an aspect that cannot be derived from the Platonic idea forces its way into the concept of the Trinity.

It does not follow from the idea of the equilateral triangle that one angle is Father, the second the Son, and the third the Holy Ghost.

Pater

Filius Spiritus Sanctus

We are not dealing with mere letters designating the angles of a triangle but with personalities: the unbegotten Father (P), the Son (F) begotten by the Father, and the Spiritus Sanctus (S), the life of both that they have in common.

This is a concept that results from a primitive assumption: the life of a body or an of individual is posited as different to some extent from either the body or the individual. From this assumption originates the idea, for example, of the immortal soul that can separate from the body and does not depend on the body for its existence.

In this regard, the primitives have richly developed conceptions of souls.

There are souls, for example, that are immortal; others are only loosely connected to the body and, therefore, wander away, get lost in the night, lose their way in a dream, and can be taken prisoner. Primitives even conceive of souls that are not in the body at all yet still belong to an individual like the Bush Soul that lives in the forest in an animal's body.

The juxtaposition of "individual" and "life" is a psychological factor resting primarily on the fact that a relatively undifferentiated mind not yet capable of thinking abstractly is not able to make subsumptions.

Such a mind can only place the characteristics it perceives in things next to one another as, for example, an individual and his life, or his disease perhaps as a daimon or his health, or his prestige as mana, and so forth.

If you analyze Indian philosophy you will notice that the Indian mind does the same thing.

We always believe it to be abstract. It is not at all abstract but rather concretely graphic.

The Indian mind places being and other qualities next to things as essences.

These concretizations are usually not related to one another logically but are simply in proximity to one another.

At this level there are certainly triads and the like, but simply no Trinities, a concept that corresponds to a more advanced, intellectual stage.

A trinity is not a matter of a tri-theistic coexistence, but of a unity effected through reflection from internal and reciprocal relationships.

By definition, the Father is the creator, the maker, the auctor rerum, the author of things who, at a cultural level where there is not yet reflection, can simply be the One. The Other results from the One through separation. This separation need not take place as long as no one takes any kind of critical position toward the auctor rerum, that is, as long as a culture does not reflect on this unity and begin to criticize the work through which the creator makes himself known. Far from critical judgment and moral conflict, the human feeling for oneness also leaves the patris auctoritas untouched.

I observed this condition of the original oneness of the father world in a Negroid tribe on Mount Elgon. These people professed the conviction that the creator had made everything good and beautiful. When I asked, "What about the evil animals that kill your cattle?" they said, "The lion is good and beautiful." And, "Your terrible diseases?" They said, "You lie in the sun and it is beautiful." I was impressed by this optimism. But in the evening at six o'clock this philosophy suddenly ceased, as I soon discovered. From sundown on another world ruled, the dark world, the world of àyík, which was evil, dangerous, fear-arousing. The optimistic philosophy ended and another philosophy began, one of fear of ghosts and the magical practices that supposedly protect against evil. With sunrise, however, the optimism returned without inherent contradiction.

Originally, human beings, the world, and the divinity were a whole, a unity untarnished by any criticism. This was the world of the Father and of human beings in a childhood state. Despite the fact that twelve of twenty-four hours are lived in a dark world with dark beliefs, the question never arises whether God might also be Other. The well-known question as to the origin of evil does not yet exist in the time of the Father. This question first arose as a principal problem with Christianity. Apparently, the world of the father applies to a time characterized by the original oneness with all of Nature, a beautiful or ugly or fearful oneness. When, however, the question is raised, "Where does evil come from, why is this world so bad and imperfect, why are there diseases and other horrors, why must people suffer?"—then reflection begins which assesses the revelation of the Father in his works, and therewith comes the doubt that expresses the splitting of the original unity. One comes to the conclusion that the creation may be imperfect, yes, even to the idea that the Creator has not done his job properly. The goodness and power of the Father cannot be the sole principle of cosmogony. Therefore, the One must be supplemented with Another. The world of the Father is thereby fundamentally changed and superseded by the world of the Son.

The world of the Son was that time in which Greek critique of the world began, the time of Gnosis in the widest sense, from which then Christianity emerged. The archetype of the redeemer god and the original man is age-old. We have no idea how old this idea is. We have parallels that reach as far as India. The Son, the revealed god, who sacrifices himself as a human being in order to bring a world into being or to redeem the world from evil is found as early as the Purusha of Indian philosophy and also in the notion of the protanthropos (Original Man), Gayomart, in Persia. Gayomart, the son of the light god, falls victim to darkness and must be freed again out of the darkness for the redemption of the world. This is the model for the Gnostic redeemer figures and for the doctrine of Christ's redemption of humanity.

It is not difficult to see that this critical Weltanschauung that raised the question of the origin of evil and of suffering corresponds to another world in which one longed for redemption, and for that time of perfection when human beings were one with the Father. One longed to return to the kingdom of the Father, but it was lost for good, because an irreversible increase and autonomy of human consciousness had taken place. Through this change, one deposed the world of the Father and entered the world of the Son, with its divine drama of redemption and ritual narrative of those things that the God/man accomplished during his earthly sojourn. The life of the God/man now revealed things that could not have been perceived in the Father as the One. For the Father as the original One was not anything defined or definable and, actually, could not yet have been called "Father" or have even been thought to exist. Only through his incarnation in the Son did he become "Father" and—thereby—something defined and definable. By becoming a father and a human being, he revealed the secret of his divinity in the human realm.

One of these revelations is the Holy Ghost which, as a being existing before the world, is certainly eternal but can only appear in this world—to a certain extent empirically—when Christ has left the earthly sphere. In a manner of speaking, he will be to the disciples what Christ has previously been to them. He confers on them absolute power to perform works that are perhaps even greater than those of the Son (John 14:12). The Holy Ghost is, therefore, a figure that replaces Christ as his equivalent and corresponds to that which Christ had received from the Father.

In other words, from the Father comes the Son, and common to both is the life activity of the Holy Ghost, which is "breathed" by both of them. Inasmuch as the Holy Ghost is a third and common element between the Father and the Son, it signifies the abolition of duality, of the "doubt" from the Son. Actually, it is that third thing that completes the three and, therefore, is again Oneness. The unfolding of the One truly culminates in the Holy Ghost, following its juxtaposition to the Son as the Father. The descent into human form signifies a becoming "Other," a setting-itself-in-opposition to itself. From this moment on, there are two, the "One" and the "Other," which means a certain tension. This tension expresses itself in the suffering of the Son and finally in his acknowledgment of God's forsaking him (Matt. 27:46).

Although the Holy Ghost is the procreator of the Son (Matt. 1:18), as Paraclete it is the Son's legacy. In many ways, the Holy Ghost continues the work of redemption by descending on those who correspond to the divine election, and who perform works that are even "greater" than those of the Son. The implication, at least, is that the Paraclete is the crowning figure of the work of redemption on one hand and God's self-revelation on the other. We could, therefore, say that the Holy Ghost represents the completion of the Godhead and the divine drama. Undoubtedly the Trinity is a higher form of the notion of God than a simple Unity inasmuch as it corresponds to a condition of greater reflection, of consciousness, in human beings.

At first, human beings remain necessarily outside this Trinitarian life process of the Godhead. We have no way of thinking about this process except as an imaginal one in the human mind, in other words, as a platonic eidolon connected to an eternal eidos. At the same time, this eidolon does not express anything binding, nor does it establish its foundation, for this foundation—namely God—is unrecognizable other than by something of a similar nature. Theological thinking, to be sure—and this is the great difficulty—often behaves as if it were the Holy Ghost, itself thinking or, rather, unfolding in the human brain. In so doing, theologians overlook the fact that the endless and often bitter disputes concerning the Trinity are nothing less than the very betrayal of the Holy Ghost. Hardly any other

discipline demonstrates the high-handedness of the human, all-too-human, mind, better than that of the history of dogma. For this reason, psychology commits no encroachment on another discipline if it joins in the discussion and raises questions about the individuals who think up dogma and about the reasons that might cause them to do so.

The Trinitarian drama deals in the first instance and overwhelmingly with the Godhead and with mankind only inasmuch as we are in a pitiable condition and—with the exception of Paradise—always were. It seems out of the question that mankind, based on suggestions in the writings of certain apostles, was responsible for fitting the Godhead with the form of the Trinity. We would have no dogma of the Trinity had the church fathers not expended an unbelievable intellectual effort toward its creation. In actuality, they developed Trinitarian thinking.

Seen psychologically then, what does Trinitarian thinking express? God, the summum bonum, unfolds in and through the Son to become the Holy Ghost as the third representing the perichoresis, the round dance, of the One. The Trinity is an harmonic self-realization of God insofar as it opens the way to God's Kingdom for individuals in need of redemption. This process is round and complete and to that extent corresponds with the Platonic idea. But what happens to evil? One comes to the conclusion at which the Middle Ages had already arrived: "Omne bonum a deo, omne malum a homine. " If we do not recognize the devil, we become the devil. We become that which disturbs God's harmony.

But what happens to the actual human being when all evil comes from him and all good from God? On the one hand, we make a hash of Man, and, on the other, we elevate him above the gods—for ultimately something that so mars the beautiful works of the Godhead must be no small force! Man thereby becomes a second God, a dark, counter-God, who spoils the fun of the "good" God. We credit Man with a significance that exceeds even the wildest fantasy.

Here we get into considerable difficulty. If we pursue the doctrine of the Holy Ghost further (something that has not happened in the Christian Church for understandable reasons), we come to certain unavoidable conclusions. If the Father appeared in the Son and shares his breath in common with the Son and if the Son left this Holy Ghost behind for human beings, then the Holy Ghost also breathes out of Man and, thereby, also breathes in common with Man, the Son, and the Father. Thereby Man moves into the position of the Son of God, and the words of Christ, "Ye are Gods," appear in a meaningful light.

How can this imperfect Man, however, be not only something like the host of the Godhead, but also God, himself? Would that not shake the Christian Church to the very depths of its foundations? Such Godlikeness the Church is not inclined to concede to Man.

That the doctrine of the Paraclete was expressly bequeathed to Man represents immense difficulties. The Platonic formulation of threeness would certainly be the final word from a logical perspective. Psychologically, though, it would not be the final word at all, since the psychological factors demand attention to themselves in a terribly disruptive manner. Why in the world was the Trinity

not referred to as "Father, Mother, and Son?" That would have been much more "logical" or "natural" than Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. In response we would have to say that the Trinity does not result from a merely natural condition but from human reflection joined to the natural succession of Father/Son. From Nature, this reflection abstracts life and its particular soul and recognizes the latter as an extraordinary existence: Father and Son are united in the same soul.

This psychological factor interrupts the perfection of the formulation of threeness. It makes the formulation into a thematic combination that can no longer be logically understood and is bound up in a mysterious and unexpected way with an important intellectual operation of human beings. The Holy Ghost can be understood as life-breath and as an attitude of love and, at the same time, as the third figure in the Trinity with all the significance of the "third" and the culmination of the Trinitarian process.

As such, it is essentially something added from reflection to the natural image of the Father/Son as the hypostatizing of a noumenon. In this regard, it is noteworthy that early Christian Gnosticism attempted to circumvent this difficulty by interpreting the Holy Ghost as Mother. In doing so, Gnosticism, to begin with, remained with the archaic natural image, tri-theism, and also with the polytheism of the father world. For it is simply natural that a father should have a family and that the son again embodies the father. This way of thinking completely corresponds to the father world. In addition, with the mother interpretation, Gnosticism reduced the specific meaning of the Holy Ghost to a primitive primordial image. It thereby destroyed the very thing that is the most essential content of the notion of the Holy Ghost.

The Holy Ghost is not only the life common to the Father and the Son. Rather, as the Paraclete, it was also left behind for human beings by the Son to bring forth in them the testimony and works of the Children of God. It is precisely of the greatest significance that the idea of the Holy Ghost is not a natural image, but rather a recognition, a conception, of the living nature of the Father and of the Son, the third between the One and the Other. Logic says "Tertium non datur." Life, however, and particularly psychological life, always creates a third from the tension of duality, which naturally appears as incommensurable or paradoxical. As "tertium," the Holy Ghost must, therefore, be incommensurable, even a paradox. Correspondingly, the natural philosophers of the Middle Ages [i.e., the alchemists] personified the "donum Spiritus Sancti" as a paradoxical, hermaphroditic being, as a "unio oppositorum."

Thus the Holy Ghost is heterogeneous, since it cannot be derived logically from the natural relationship of father and son. We can only understand it as a concept resulting from the engagement of the human reflective process. It thereby seems that Man's coming to consciousness is a part of the divine life process or, in other words, that God becomes manifest in the act of human reflection. The nature of this concept (the hypostatizing of a quality) corresponds to the necessity for primitive thinking to produce a reconciling abstract notion by attributing concrete extraordinary existence to the quality in question.

Just as the Holy Ghost is a bequest to human beings, by the same token its conception is a birth of mankind and carries the qualities of its human creators. Unnoticed, the figure of the Holy Ghost includes mankind as a spiritual potentiality in the Trinitarian mystery, thereby elevating the Trinity itself far above the parallels to mere nature of the triad and also above Platonic threeness and its unity. The Trinity thereby reveals itself as a symbol which encompasses divine and human substantiality. As Köpgen says, it is "not only a manifestation of God's, but also of mankind."

A grain of truth lies in the Gnostic interpretation of the Holy Ghost as Mother insofar as the Virgin Mary was the instrument of God's birth and thereby involved, as a human being, in the Trinitarian drama. The figure of the Mother of God can, therefore, count as a symbol of mankind's essential participation in the Trinity. The psychological justification for this assumption is founded on the circumstance that thinking—a predominantly masculine activity—originally depended on the self-revelation of the unconscious, which possesses a feminine quality in men.

This is the origin of the so-called "anima"—the knowledge of revelation, which was personified as sapientia Dei or as Sophia—"in gremio matris sedet sapientia patris." These psychological connections make clearer the interpretation of the Holy Ghost as Mother, but they contribute nothing to the understanding of the Holy Ghost figure insofar as we do not appreciate why the Mother could be the third when she would more likely be the second.

While the Holy Ghost is an hypostasis of the life principle produced by the reflective process, thanks to its peculiar substantiality, it appears as an extraordinary, even an incommensurable third. Through its peculiarity it demonstrates precisely that it is neither a compromise nor simply a triadic addition, but rather a more than logically expected release of the tension between Father and Son. Because of the nature of the redemption drama, the human reflective process is just what irrationally creates the uniting Third: as the Godhead descends into the human realm, Man, for his part, attains the realm of the Godhead.

The thinking about the Trinity or Trinitarian thinking is the "Holy Ghost" to the extent that it is never basically mere rumination but gives expression to an incalculable psychological occurrence. The driving forces which make themselves felt in this thinking are not conscious motives but spring from an historical occurrence which, for its part, is rooted in obscure, psychological preconditions. We cannot formulate those preconditions better or more succinctly than as a "transformation from Father to Son," a transformation from unity to duality, from an unreflecting condition to one of critical judgment.

To the extent that Trinitarian thinking lacks personal motivation and its driving force originates in impersonal, collective, psychological conditions, it expresses a necessity of the unconscious psyche which towers over our personal, intellectual needs. With the aid of human thought, the Trinitarian symbol, arising from psychological necessity, is a symbol predestined to serve psychological transformation—relative to changing times—as a redeeming formula for totality. From time immemorial, Man has experienced any expression of psychological activity that he has not intended or caused as demonic or divine, "holy," healing, and completing. In actuality, notions of God behave, as do all images which originate in the

unconscious, in a compensatory or complementary manner to an individual's over-all mood or behavior. Only by their appearance on the scene does psychological totality emerge in the individual. The individual who is "only conscious," only "I," is a fragment insofar as he is conceived of apart from the unconscious. The more the unconscious is split off, the more powerful are the forms in which it confronts consciousness: if not in the form of divine figures, then in the less favorable form of possessions ("obsessions") and morbid affects. Gods are legitimate personifications of the unconscious, for they manifest themselves out of unconscious psychic activity.

From this kind of activity came Trinitarian thinking and its passionate depths, which throw us—the later descendants—into naive astonishment. At present we no longer remember, or do not yet know, to what extent the depths of the psyche and Trinitarian thinking were churned up by a major change in the times. In the absence of this knowledge, the Holy Ghost seems to have faded away without having received the answer it demands to the question it directs at mankind.

II. The Problem of the Fourth

The Timaeus, from which the intellectual formula of the three is taken, begins with the ominous question: "Three there are, but where's the fourth?" As we know, Faust takes up this question in the Cabiri scene:

Three along we've brought
But come the fourth would not,
He said, he was the right one
Who thought for all of them.

When Goethe says the fourth is the one "who thought for all of them," we might suspect the fourth to be Goethe's thinking, and we have to conclude that Goethe's thinking was not his strong suit. It is well known that Schiller had to make the concept of an idea clear to him. How defective Goethe's thinking was we can gather from his Theory of Color (Farbenlehre). Thinking was his "inferior function," and we could not find a more apt characterization for this function than the verse, "but come the fourth would not." It wanted to remain somewhere behind or below.

Ancient Greek philosophy used quaternarian thinking. For Pythagoras, not three but four played the major role as, for example, in the so-called Pythagorean Oath. There it is said of the number four, the tetraktys, that "it has the roots of eternal Nature." Also in the Pythagorean school the opinion reigned that the soul was not a triangle, but a quadrangle. The origin of these views lies somewhere in the dark prehistory of the Hellenistic spirit. The quaternity is an archetype that occurs universally.

Four is the logical prerequisite for every determination of totality. If one wants to make such a determination, it must have a fourfold aspect. If, for example, one wants to designate the totality of the horizon, one names the four cardinal points. Three is not a natural pattern of order, but an artificial one. Therefore, we always have four elements, four primary qualities, four colors, four castes in India, four paths in the sense of spiritual development in Buddhism. Therefore, there are also four aspects of psychological orientation beyond which nothing more can be stated. For orientation, we have to have a function that establishes that something is, a second that identifies what it is, a third function that says whether we like it or not, whether we want to accept it or not, and a fourth function that identifies where it comes from and where it is going.

Beyond this nothing more can be said. There was an article published recently by Dr. Kindt-Kinder on the structure of the concept of the nation. In it the author sets forth the fundamental significance of the fourfold aspect and methodically applies it. You also find the idea in Schopenhauer that a philosophical theorem has a four-part root. All of this stems from the fact that the fourfold aspect represents the minimum for a determination of completeness.

Ideal completion, naturally, is round, is the circle. But its minimal, natural division is the four.

If Plato had used the Christian concept of the Trinity—which was not the case—and elevated, therefore, the three above everything else, we would have to object that it could not be a determination of totality. A necessary fourth would have been left out. Or had Plato believed that a three-sided form represented the good and beautiful and attributed to it all positive qualities, he would have deprived it of evil and imperfection. What could have become of the latter aspects? In addition to other answers to this question Christianity has replied that real evil is a privatio boni. This classic Christian formula, however, robs evil of absolute existence and makes it a shadow with only a relative existence dependent on the light.

Another Christian statement about evil implies that it has personality as the Devil. The Devil is not included in the Trinity but stands outside and, because of the concept of the privatio boni, leads a mere shadow existence. In light of the powerful impact of evil, though, this sounds suspiciously like a euphemism. As an autonomous and eternal figure, the Devil corresponds more nearly to his role as Christ's adversary and to the psychological reality of evil.

The Church fathers most vehemently opposed the notion of a quaternity of divine principles while making the attempt to assign three persons to the nature of God. This resistance against the quaternity is extraordinary given that the central Christian symbol, the cross, is unmistakably a quaternity. It represents, however, God's suffering in the direct collision with the world.

The definition of God as the summum bonum excludes evil from the start. Thus the Devil, as simia Dei, remains outside the Trinitarian order and in opposition to it. The representation of the three-in-one God corresponds to a tricephalic image of Satan as it appears in Dante. It thereby suggests a true umbra trinitatis, an infernal Antitrinity analogous to the Antichrist. Without a doubt, the Devil is an awkward figure: somehow or other he stands awry in the Christian world order. For this reason, one readily plays down his importance with euphemistic detraction or even by shutting one's eyes to his existence. One is more likely to enter him in mankind's debit column.

Those who do so are the same people who would protest mightily were the sinful individual also to credit himself with the origin of all good. A glance in the Holy Scriptures, though, suffices to show us the Devil's importance in the drama of divine redemption. Had the power of evil been as minimal as certain theological opinions would have it appear, the world would not have needed the Godhead itself to come to earth. Or it would have lain within human powers to make the world good, which is also a childish, modern belief.

Whatever the Devil's metaphysical position might be, in psychological reality evil presents an effective, yes, even a threatening, limitation to the good. It is not going too far for one to assume that not only day and night hold the world in equilibrium, but also good and evil. This is the reason why the victory of the good is always a special act of grace.

If we overlook the unique, Persian dualism, there is no real Devil in the early period of mankind's spiritual development and, thus, none in the Old Testament. Instead, there was only a lemur-like riffraff haunting ruins and deserted locations. The actual Devil first appears as Christ's adversary. Thereby, God's world of light became manifest, on the one hand, and the abyss of hell, on the other. The Devil is autonomous. He cannot be subject to God's dominion, for he would not be in a position to be Christ's adversary but only God's machine. Insofar as the One, indefinable, unfolds into Two, it becomes definable, namely the man, Jesus, the Son and the Logos. God's act of love in the Son is opposed by the diabolical negation.

Inasmuch as the Devil was created by God as an angel, who then fell "like a bolt from heaven," he likewise emerged from the Godhead and became "Lord of this world." It is also indicative that the Gnostics expressed him sometimes as the imperfect demiurge, sometimes as the depraved, saturnian archon, Ialdabaoth. Pictorial representations of this archon thoroughly correspond in their details to a devilish demon. He represented the power of darkness from which mankind was redeemed by Christ's coming. The archons, too, emerged from the womb of unrecognizable beginning, that is, from the same source that Christ, too, proceeded.

A thinker of the Middle Ages noticed that when God divided the upper waters from the lower waters on the second day of creation, he did not say it was good in the evening as he did on all the other days. God did not do so because on the second day he had created the binarius, the number two, the origin of evil. We find a similar theme again in a Persian account where Ahriman's origin is traced back to a doubting thought of Ahuramazda's. Non-Trinitarian thinking can scarcely escape the logic of the following schema:

Pater

Filius Diabolus

It is, therefore, not unusual to find the idea of the Antichrist so early. On one hand it may be related to the astrological synchronicity of the dawning Piscean age: on the other, it has to do with the increasing realization of the duality posited through the Son which—for its part—is again prefigured in the symbol of the fish: )-( .

In our diagram, Christ and the Devil appear as equivalent opposites, which is hinted at by the "adversary" idea. This opposition represents a conflict in the extreme and, thereby, also a secular task for mankind until the time or until that shift in time when good and evil begin to relativize each other, to question themselves, and when a cry goes up for a "beyond good and evil." In a Christian age caught up in the realm of Trinitarian thinking such deliberation is downright impossible. The conflict is too intense for the Devil to be granted any logical relationship to the Trinity other than that of an absolute and incommensurable opposite. In an emotionally-charged opposition—in a conflict, in other words—thesis and antithesis cannot be considered together.

Such consideration is only possible for a cooler deliberation on the relative value of good and evil. Then, to be sure, nothing could be more dubious than a life "breathed" in common not only by the Father and his light Son but by the Father and his dark Creature. The unspeakable conflict posited by the duality, resolves itself in a fourth principle that restores the unity of the One in its complete development. The rhythm is a three-step; the symbol a quaternity.

Pater

Filius Diabolus

Spiritus Sanctus

The dual nature of the Father is by no means unknown to the Church. We see this in the allegory of the monoceros or rhinoceros, an image showing Jehovah's raging moods which threw the world into confusion and which could be transformed into love only in the lap of a pure virgin. Luther, too, knew a deus absconditus. Murder and slaughter, war, disease and crime, and every abomination falls within the unity of the Godhead. When God manifests his being and becomes something defined, namely a definite human being, his opposites have to fall apart: here is good and there is evil. Thus the opposites latent in the Godhead separate in the begetting of the Son and manifest themselves in the opposition of Christ/Devil.

The Persian opposition of Ormuzd/Ahriman may have been the implied basis for this Christian duality. The world of the Son is the world of moral duality, without which human consciousness would hardly have accomplished the advance in intellectual differentiation that it actually has. That people today are not totally enthusiastic over this advance is due to attacks of doubt in modern consciousness.

The Christian individual is an individual suffering morally who, in his suffering, needs the comforter, the Paraclete. The individual cannot overcome the conflict with his own resources, just as he did not create it. He depends on divine comfort and reconciliation, on the spontaneous revelation of that Spirit that does not obey human intention but comes and go

es as it wills. That Spirit is an autonomous psychic occurrence, a stillness after the storm, a reconciling light in the darknesses of human understanding, and the mysterious order of our psychic chaos. The Holy Ghost is a comforter like the Father, a still, eternal, and unfathomable One, in which God's love and horror are fused together in wordless unity. In this unity, the original meaning of the yet meaningless Father world is restored within the confines of human experience and reflection. From a quaternarian perspective, the Holy Ghost is a reconciliation of opposites and thereby answers that suffering in the Godhead that Christ personifies.

The Pythagorean quaternity was still a fact of nature, an archetypal form of perception, but it was not a moral problem, let alone a divine drama. Therefore, it "went below." It was merely a natural and, for that reason, an unreflected perception of the nature-bound mind. The separation which Christianity wrenched open between nature and spirit enabled the human mind to think not only beyond nature, but also against nature and thereby prove—I might say—its divine freedom. This impetus from the darkness of nature's depths culminates in Trinitarian thinking, which moves in that Platonic, hyperuranian realm. Rightly or wrongly, though, Timaeus' question remains: "What has become of the fourth?" It has remained "below" as an heretical quaternity image or as the Hermetic tradition's speculation about natural philosophy.

I think with considerable satisfaction of a medieval author (Gerard Dorn, mentioned above)—he was an alchemist—who pursued this idea and criticized the quaternity, a concept handed down from earliest times in the tradition of his art. It occurred to him that the quaternity was a heresy, since the principle ruling the world consisted of a Trinity. The quaternity had to come from the Devil, in other words. Four would be the double of two and the two was created on the second day of creation, a result with which God was apparently not completely satisfied.

The binarius is the devil of duality and—simultaneously—also the feminine. (In the East as in the West, even numbers are feminine.) What was displeasing about creations' second day consisted apparently in the fact that on this ominous day a duality was revealed in the nature of the Father, similar to that in Ahuramazda. From this duality in the Father's nature emerged the serpent, the quadricornutus serpens, which thereupon seduced an Eve who was changed because of her binarian nature. "Vir a Deo creatur, mulier a simia Dei."

The Devil is the ape and God's aping shadow, Gnosticism's antimimon pneuma. But he is the "Lord of this world" in whose shadow Man, too, is born and with whose original sin Man is perishably encumbered. According to the Gnostic view, Christ threw off the shadow with which he was born and remained without sin. Through his sinless condition he demonstrated his lack of contamination with the dark world of nature-bound Man, which the latter attempted to shake off to no avail. ("Earth's residue to bear / hath sorely pressed us," etc.)

The connection to physis, the material world and its demands, is the cause of Man's hybrid condition. On the one hand, he possesses the capacity for enlightenment, but, on the other, he is subject to the "Lord of this world" ("Miserable being I; who will deliver me from the body of this death?"). Thanks to his sinless condition, Christ, by contrast, lives in the Platonic realm of the pure idea, which only Man's thinking can attain, but not he, himself, in his totality. Strictly speaking, Man is the bridge that spans the chasm between "this world," the realm of the dark tricephalus, and the heavenly Trinity. Therefore, even in the era of unconditional belief in the Trinity, there always existed a search for the lost fourth—from the Greek Neopythagoreans to Goethe's Faust.

Although these searchers considered themselves Christians, they were only partial Christians in that they devoted their lives to an opus, which had as its goal the redemption of that serpens quadricornutus, that anima mundi ensnared in matter, and that fallen Lucifer. What lay hidden in matter for them was the lumen luminum, the sapientia Dei, and their task was a "gift of the Holy Ghost." Our quaternity formula supports their claim, for the Holy Ghost, as the synthesis of the original One and the split One, flows from a light and a dark source. "For in the harmony of wisdom, right and left powers are engaged," says the Acts of John.

The reader will have noticed that in our quaternity schema, two equivalent elements cross each other. On one side is the oppositional identity of Christ and his adversary, while on the other is the unfolding of the Father's unity into the multiplicity of the Holy Ghost. The cross produced in this manner is the symbol of the Godhead's suffering that redeems humanity. This suffering could not have occurred and would not have had to demonstrate its effect on anything, had it not been for the presence of a power opposing God—namely, this world and its lord.

The quaternity schema recognizes this presence as an undeniable factor by laying the bonds of this world's reality on Trinitarian thinking. Platonic, intellectual freedom makes possible no determination of totality, but tears the light part of the divine portrait loose from the dark half. This freedom was, in large part, a cultural phenomenon and the nobler occupation of those fortunate Athenians to whose lot it fell not to be Helots. Only he can elevate himself above nature who has another to carry earth's heaviness for him. How would Plato have philosophized had he been his own house slave? What would Rabbi Jesus have taught, if he had had a wife and children to support? If he had had to till the fields in which the bread he broke grew, had had to weed the vineyard in which the wine he dispensed ripened? The dark heaviness of earth belongs to the image of totality. In this world, nothing good lacks an evil, no day a night, no summer a winter.

But civilized Man may lack a winter, for he can protect himself against the cold. He may lack the dirt, for he can bathe himself—the sin, for he can prudently separate himself from other people and thereby avoid many an occasion for evil. He can believe himself to be good and pure because necessity does not instruct him any differently. By contrast, natural Man has a completeness that one can admire but there is actually nothing there worth admiring: it is unending unconsciousness, mire and muck.

If, however, God wants to be born as a human being and to unite humanity in the community of the Holy Ghost, he will suffer the terrible torment of having to bear the world in its reality. It is a cross; yes, he himself is the cross. The world is God's suffering and each individual human being who also wishes to even approximate his own totality knows very well that that means carrying a cross. But the eternal promise of bearing a cross is the Paraclete.

These ideas are present with moving beauty and simplicity in the American Negro film Green Pastures. In the movie, God had governed the world for many years with curses, thunder, lightning, and floods, but it never prospered. Finally, he realized that he, himself, would have to become human to get to the root of the evil.

After he had come to know the suffering of the world, this God become man left behind a comforter, the third person of the Trinity. He did so in order that he might reside in many individuals, particularly in those who in no way enjoyed the prerogative or possibility of a sinless condition. As the Paraclete, God drew closer to real human beings and their darkness even more than he had as the Son. The light God stepped onto the bridge of Man from the day side; God's shadow, however, from the night side.

Who will decide this terrible dilemma that threatens to burst the miserable vessel with shudders and intoxications never before heard of? It will likely be the manifestation of a Holy Ghost from Man himself. Just as once Man became manifest from God, so, too, when the wheel comes full circle, may God become manifest from Man. Since, however, evil accompanies every good in this world, the antimimon pneuma in Man will create a human self-deification from the inhabitancy of the Paraclete. It will produce an inflation of self-presumptuousness, the prologue to which Nietzsche's case has already outlined clearly. The more unconsciously the religious problem of the future presents itself, the greater is the danger for Man to misuse the divine core in himself as laughable or demonic self-inflation.

He should, instead, remain conscious of being nothing more than the stall in which the Lord was born. Even on the highest peak, we will never be beyond good and evil, and the more we learn about the inextricable entanglement of good and evil the more uncertain and confused our moral judgment will become. In the process, it will be of no use whatsoever to throw our moral criteria on the scrap heap and "erect new tablets" (following familiar patterns). Just as in the past, so into all the future will wrongs committed—intended or considered—avenge themselves on our psyche, unmoved by whether the world revolves around us or not. Our knowledge of good and evil has decreased with our increasing knowledge and experience, and it will decrease still more in the future without our being exempted from ethical demands. In this most extreme uncertainty, we need the illumination of a Ghost to make us holy and complete, a Ghost that can be anything else, just not our understanding. Thereby we hint at the mystery of inner experience, for which a capacity to touch more directly or consciously is denied us.

(translated from the German by Gary V. Hartman) Originally published in Quadrant, XXVIII:1, Winter 1998.