psychology_of_the_unconscious_Carl Gustav Jung o5

These severe measures of protection apply primarily to oninism. I am indebted to Freud for a further important reference to the oninistic nature of the fire theft, or rather the motive of the treasure difficult of attainment to which fire theft belongs.

Mythology contains repeated formulas which read approximately as follows: The treasure must be plucked or torn off from a taboo tree, paradise tree, Hesperides. This is a forbidden and dangerous act. The clearest example of this is the old barbaric custom in the service of Diana of Aria. Only he can become a priest of the goddess who in her sacred growth dares to tear off a bough. The tearing off has been retained in vulgar speech. Besides a briben rubbing as a symbol of the act of oninism. Thus ribbon to rub is like ryson to break off, both of which are contained in Manthami and united apparently only through the myth of the fire theft, bound up in the act of oninism in a deeper stratum wherein Ryen, probably speaking Ryson, is employed but in a transferred sense. Therefore, it might perhaps be anticipated that in the deepest stratum, namely the incestuous, which precedes the autoerotic stage, the two meanings coincide, which through lack of mythological tradition can perhaps be traced through etymology only.

End of section 14.

Section 15 of Psychology of the Unconscious by Carl Jung. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

Section 15.

Chapter 4, 1. The Unconscious Origin of the Hero.

Prepared by the previous chapters, we approach the personification of the libido in the form of a conqueror, a hero, or a demon. With this symbolism, leaves the impersonal and neuter realm which characterizes the astral and meteorologic symbol and takes human form. The figure of a being changing from sorrow to joy, from joy to sorrow, and which, like the sun, sometimes stands in its zenith, sometimes is plunged in darkest night, and arises from this very night to new splendor. Just as the sun, guided by its own internal laws, ascends from morning till noon, and passing beyond the noon, descends towards evening, leaving behind its splendor, and then sinks completely into the all-enveloping night. Thus too does mankind follow his course according to immutable laws, and also sinks after his course is completed into night, in order to rise again in the morning to a new cycle in his children. The symbolic transition from sun to man is easy and practicable.

The third and last creation of Miss Miller's also takes this course. She calls this piece "Chantable," a hypnogogic poem. She gives us the following information about the circumstances surrounding the origin of this fantasy: "After an evening of care and anxiety, I lay down to sleep at about half-past eleven. I felt excited and unable to sleep, although I was very tired. There was no light in the room. I closed my eyes and then I had the feeling that something was about to happen. The sensation of a general relaxation came over me, and I remained as passive as possible. Lines appeared before my eyes, sparks and shining spirals, followed by a kaleidoscopic review of recent trivial occurrences."

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

The condition depicted by the author here corresponds to such a one as usually precedes an intentional somnambulism, often described by spiritualistic mediums. A certain inclination to listen to these low nocturnal voices must be assumed, otherwise such fine and hardly perceptible inner experiences pass unnoticed. We recognize in this listening a current of the libido leading inward and beginning to flow towards a still invisible, mysterious goal. It seems that the libido has suddenly discovered an object in the depths of the unconscious which powerfully attracts it. The life of man, turned wholly to the external by nature, does not ordinarily permit such introversion. There must therefore be surmised a certain exceptional condition, that is to say, a lack of external objects which compels the individual to seek a substitute for them in his own soul. It is, however, difficult to imagine that this rich world has become too poor to offer an object for the love of human atoms. Nor can the world and its objects be held accountable for this lack. It offers boundless opportunities for everyone. It is rather the incapacity to love which robs mankind of his possibilities. This world is empty to him alone who does not understand how to direct his libido towards objects and to render them alive and beautiful for himself. For beauty does not indeed lie in things, but in the feeling that we give to them. That which compels us to create a substitute for ourselves is not the external lack of objects, but our incapacity to lovingly include a thing outside of ourselves.

Certainly, the difficulties of the conditions of life and the adversities of the struggle for existence may oppress us. Yet, even adverse external situations would not hinder the giving out of the libido. On the contrary, they may spur us on to the greatest exertions, whereby we bring our whole libido into reality. Real difficulties alone will never be able to force the libido back permanently to such a degree as to give rise, for example, to a neurosis. The conflict which is the condition of every neurosis is lacking. The resistance which opposes its unwillingness to the will alone has the power to produce that pathogenic introversion which is the starting point of every psychogenic disturbance.

The resistance against loving produces the inability to love. Just as the normal libido is comparable to a steady stream which pours its waters broadly into the world of reality, so the resistance, dynamically considered, is comparable not so much to a rock rearing up in the riverbed which is flooded over or surrounded by the stream, as to a backward flow towards the source. A part of the soul desires the outer object. Another part, however, harks back to the subjective world where the airy and fragile palaces of fantasy beckon.

One can assume the dualism of the human will, for which Bleuler, from the psychiatric point of view, has coined the word "ambitendency," as something generally present, bearing in mind that even the most primitive motor impulse is in opposition. As, for example, in the act of extension, the flexor muscles also become innervated. This normal ambitendency, however, never leads to an inhibition or prevention of the intended act, but is the indispensable preliminary requirement for its perfection and coordination. For a resistance disturbing to this act to arise from this harmony, a finely attuned opposition, an abnormal plus or minus would be needed on one or the other side. The resistance originates from this added third. This applies also to the duality of the will, from which so many difficulties arise for mankind. The abnormal third frees the pair of opposites, which are normally most intimately united, and causes their manifestation in the form of separate tendencies. It is only thus that they become willingness and unwillingness, which interfere with each other. The Bhagavad Gita says: "Be thou free of the pairs of opposites." The harmony thus becomes disharmony.

It cannot be my task here to investigate whence the unknown third arises and what it is. Taken at the roots, in the case of our patients, the nuclear complex, Freud reveals itself as the incest problem. The sexual libido, regressing to the parents, appears as the incest tendency. The reason this path is so easily traveled is due to the enormous indolence of mankind, which will relinquish no object of the past but will hold it fast forever. The sacrilegious backward grasp, of which Nietzsche speaks, reveals itself, stripped of its incest covering, as an original passive arrest of the libido in its first object of childhood. This indolence is also a passion, as La Rochefoucauld has brilliantly expressed it: "Of all passions, that which is least known to ourselves is indolence; it is the most ardent and malignant of them all. Although its violence may be insensible, and the injuries it causes may be hidden. If we will consider its power attentively, we will see that it makes itself upon all occasions mistress of our sentiments, of our interests, and of our pleasures. It is the anchor which has the power to arrest the largest vessels. It is a calm more dangerous to the most important affairs than rocks and the worst tempest. The repose of indolence is a secret charm of the soul which suddenly stops the most ardent pursuits and the firmest resolutions. Finally, to give the true idea of this passion, one must say that indolence is like a beatitude of the soul which consoles it for all its losses and takes the place of all its possessions."

This dangerous passion, belonging above all others to primitive man, appears under the hazardous mask of the incest symbol, from which the incest fear must drive us away, and which must be conquered in the first place under the image of the terrible mother. It is the mother of innumerable evils, not the least of which are neurotic troubles. For especially from the fogs of the arrested remnants of the libido arise the harmful fantasmagoria which so veil reality that adaptation becomes almost impossible. However, we will not investigate any further in this place the foundations of the incest fantasies. The preliminary suggestion of my purely psychological conception of the incest problem may suffice. We are here only concerned with the question whether resistance which leads to introversion in our author signifies a conscious external difficulty or not.

If it were an external difficulty, then indeed the libido would be violently dammed back and would produce a flood of fantasies which can best be designated as schemes, that is to say, plans as to how the obstacles could be overcome. They would be very concrete ideas of reality which seek to pave the way for solutions. It would be a strenuous meditation indeed, which would be more likely to lead to anything rather than to a hypnagogic poem. The passive condition depicted above in no way fits in with a real external obstacle, but precisely through its passive submission, it indicates a tendency which doubtless scorns real solutions and prefers fantastic substitutes. Ultimately and essentially, we are therefore dealing with an internal conflict, perhaps after the manner of those earlier conflicts which led to the two first unconscious creations. We are therefore forced to conclude that the external object cannot be loved because a predominant amount of libido prefers a fantastic object which must be brought up from the depths of the unconscious as a compensation for the missing reality.

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

Miss Miller continues: "Then I had the impression that some communication was immediately impending. It seemed to me as if there were re-echoed in me the words, 'Speak, O Lord, for thy servant listens. Open thou mine ears.'" This passage very clearly describes the intention. The expression "communication" is even a current term in spiritualistic circles. The biblical words contain a clear invocation or prayer, that is to say, a wish-libido directed towards divinity, the unconscious complex. The prayer refers to Samuel 1:3, where Samuel at night was three times called by God, but believed that it was Eli calling until the latter informed him that it was God himself who spoke and that he must answer if his name was called again. "Speak, O Lord, for thy servant hears." The dreamer uses these words really in an inverse sense, namely, in order to produce God with them. With that, she directs her desires, her libido, into the depths of her unconscious.

We know that although individuals are widely separated by the differences in the contents of their consciousness, they are closely alike in their unconscious psychology. It is a significant impression for one working in practical psychoanalysis when he realizes how uniform are the typical unconscious complexes. Difference first arises from individualization. This fact gives to an essential portion of the Schopenhauer and Hartmann philosophies a deep psychological justification. The very evident uniformity of the unconscious mechanism serves as a psychological foundation for these philosophic views. The unconscious contains the differentiated remnants of the earlier psychological functions overcome by the individual differentiation. The reaction and products of the animal psyche are of a generally diffused uniformity and solidity which among men may be discovered apparently only in traces. Man appears as something extraordinarily individual in contrast with animals. This might be a tremendous delusion because we have the appropriate tendency always to recognize only the difference of things. This is demanded by the psychological adaptation which, without the most minute differentiation of the impressions, would be absolutely impossible. In opposition to this tendency, we have ever the greatest difficulty in recognizing in their common relations the things with which we are occupied in everyday life. This recognition becomes much easier with things which are more remote from us. For example, it is almost impossible for a European to differentiate the faces in a Chinese throng. Although the Chinese have just as individual facial formations as the Europeans, but the similarity of their strange facial expression is much more evident to the remote onlooker than their individual differences. But when we live among the Chinese, then the impression of their uniformity disappears more and more, and finally the Chinese become individuals also. Individuality belongs to those conditional actualities which are greatly overrated theoretically on account of their practical significance. It does not belong to those overwhelmingly clear and therefore universally obtrusive general facts upon which a science must primarily be founded. The individual content of consciousness is therefore the most unfavorable object imaginable for psychology because it has veiled the universally valid until it has become unrecognizable. The essence of consciousness is the process of adaptation which takes place in the most minute details. On the other hand, the unconscious is the generally diffused, which not only binds the individuals among themselves to the race, but also unites them backwards with the peoples of the past and their psychology. Thus, the unconscious, surpassing the individual in its generality, is in the first place the object of a true psychology which claims not to be psychophysical.

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

This temporary withdrawal into oneself, which, as we have already seen, signifies a regression to the childish bond to the parent, seems to act favorably within certain limits in its effect upon the psychological condition of the individual. It is, in general, to be expected that the two fundamental mechanisms of the psychosis, transference and introversion, are to a wide extent extremely appropriate methods of normal reaction against complexes. Transference as a means of escaping from the complex into reality. Introversion as a means of detaching oneself from reality through the complex.

After we have informed ourselves about the general purposes of prayer, we are prepared to hear more about the vision of our dreamer. After the prayer, the head of a sphinx with an Egyptian headdress appeared, only to vanish quickly. Here the author was disturbed so that for a moment she awoke. This vision recalls the previously mentioned fantasy of the Egyptian statue whose rigid gesture is entirely in place here as a phenomenon of the so-called functional category. The light stages of the hypnosis are designated technically as *nordische Steifung* (Nordic stiffening). The word sphinx in the whole civilized world signifies the same as riddle, a puzzling creature who proposes riddles like the Sphinx of Oedipus, standing at the portal of his fate like a symbolic proclamation of the inevitable. The Sphinx is a zoomorphic representation of that mother image which may be designated as the terrible mother, of whom many traces are found in mythology. This interpretation is correct for Oedipus. Here the question is opened. The objection would be raised that nothing except the word "sphinx" justifies the allusion to the Sphinx of Oedipus, on account of the lack of subjective materials which in the Miller text are wholly lacking in regard to this vision. An individual interpretation would also be excluded. The suggestion of an Egyptian fantasy (Part One, Chapter 2) is entirely insufficient to be employed here. Therefore, we are compelled, if we wish to venture at all upon an understanding of this vision, to direct ourselves, perhaps in all too daring a manner, to the available ethnographic material, under the assumption that the unconscious of the present-day man coins its symbols as it was done in the most remote past.

The Sphinx, in its traditional form, is a half-human, half-animal creature, which we must in part interpret in the way that is applicable to such fantastic products. The reader is directed to the deductions in the first part of this volume where the theomorphic representations of the libido were discussed. This manner of representation is very familiar to the analyst through the dreams and fantasies of neurotics and of normal men. The impulse is readily represented as an animal, as a bull, horse, dog, etc. One of my patients, who had questionable relations with women, and who began the treatment with the fear, so to speak, that I would surely forbid him his sexual adventures, dreamed that I, his physician, very carefully speared to the wall a strange animal, half pig, half crocodile. Dreams swarm with such theomorphic representations of the libido. Mixed beings, such as are in this dream, are not rare. A series of very beautiful illustrations, where especially the lower half of the animal was represented theomorphically, has been furnished by Bert's Schinger. The libido which was represented theomorphically is the animal sexuality which is in a repressed state. The history of repression, as we have seen, goes back to the incest problem, where the first motives for moral resistance against sexuality display themselves. The objects of the repressed libido are, in the last degree, the images of father and mother. Therefore, the theomorphic symbols, in so far as they do not symbolize merely the libido in general, have a tendency to present father and mother. For example, father represented by a bull, mother by a cow. From these roots, as we pointed out earlier, might probably arise the theomorphic attributes of the divinity. In so far as the repressed libido manifests itself under certain conditions as anxiety, these animals are generally of a horrible nature. In consciousness, we are attached by all sacred bonds to the mother. In the dream, she pursues us as a terrible animal. The Sphinx, mythologically considered, is actually a fear animal, which reveals distinct traits of a mother. In the Oedipus legend, the Sphinx is sent by Hera, who hates thieves on account of the birth of Bacchus. Because Oedipus conquers the Sphinx, which is nothing but fear of the mother, he must marry Jocasta, his mother. For the throne and the hand of the widowed queen of Thebes belong to him who freed the land from the plague of the Sphinx. The genealogy of the Sphinx is rich in allusions to the problem touched upon here. She is a daughter of Aeneas, a mixed being, a beautiful maiden above, a hideous serpent below. This double creature corresponds to the picture of the mother: above, the human, lovely, and attractive half; below, the horrible animal half, converted into a fear animal through the incest prohibition. Aglaia is derived from the all-mother, the mother earth Gaia, who with Tartarus, personified underworld, the place of horrors, brought her forth. Aglaia herself is the mother of all terrors: of the Chimera, Scylla, Gorgo, of the horrible Cerberus, of the Nemean Lion, and of the eagle who devoured the liver of Prometheus. Besides this, she gave birth to a number of dragons. One of her sons is Orthrus, the dog of the monstrous Geryon, who was killed by Hercules. With his dog, her son Aglaia, in incestuous intercourse, produced the Sphinx. These materials will suffice to characterize that amount of libido which led to the Sphinx symbol. If, in spite of the lack of subjective material, we may venture to draw an inference from the Sphinx symbol of our author, we must say that the Sphinx represents an original incestuous amount of libido detached from the bond to the mother. Perhaps it is better to postpone this conclusion until we have examined the following visions.

After Miss Miller had concentrated herself again, the vision developed further. Suddenly, an Aztec appeared, absolutely clear in every detail. The hand spread open with large fingers, the head in profile, armored, headdress similar to the feathered ornaments of the American Indian. The whole was somewhat suggestive of Mexican sculpture. The ancient Egyptian character of the Sphinx is replaced here by American antiquity, by the Aztec. The essential idea is neither Egypt nor Mexico, for the two could not be interchanged, but it is the subjective factor which the dreamer produces from her own past. I have frequently observed in the analysis of Americans that certain unconscious complexes, that is, repressed sexuality, are represented by the symbol of a negro or an Indian. For example, when a European tells in his dream, "Then came a ragged, dirty individual." For Americans and for those who live in the tropics, it is a negro. When with Europeans, it is a vagabond or a criminal. With Americans, it is a negro or an Indian, which represents the individual's own repressed sexual personality, and the one considered inferior.

It is also desirable to go into the particulars of this vision, as there are various things worthy of notice. The feather cap, which naturally had to consist of eagle's feathers, is a sort of magic charm. The hero assumes at the same time something of the sunlight character of this bird when he adorns himself with his feathers, just as the courage and strength of the enemy are appropriated in swallowing his heart or taking his scalp. At the same time, the feather crest is a crown which is equivalent to the rays of the sun. The historical importance of the sun identification has been seen in the first part. A special interest attaches to the hand which is described as open and the fingers which are described as large. It is significant that it is the hand upon which the distinct emphasis falls. One might rather have expected a description of the facial expression. It is well known that the gesture of the hand is significant. Unfortunately, we know nothing about that here. Nevertheless, a parallel fantasy might be mentioned, which also puts the emphasis upon hands. A patient in a hypnagogic condition saw his mother painted on a wall like a painting in a Byzantine church. She held one hand up, open wide, with fingers spread apart. The fingers were very large, swollen into knobs on the ends, and each surrounded by a small halo. The immediate association with this picture was the fingers of a frog with sucking discs at the ends, than the similarity to the penis. The ancient setting of this mother picture is also of importance. Evidently, the hand and head in this fantasy have a phallic meaning. This interpretation was confirmed by a further, very remarkable fantasy of the same patient. He saw something like a skyrocket ascending from his mother's hand, which at a closer survey becomes a shining bird with golden wings, a golden pheasant, as it then occurs to his mind. We have seen in the previous chapter that the hand has actually a phallic generative meaning, and that this meaning plays a great part in the production of fire. In connection with this fantasy, there is but one observation to make: fire was bored with the hand. Therefore, it comes from the hand. Agy, the fire, was worshiped as a golden-winged bird. It is extremely significant that it is the mother's hand. I must deny myself the temptation to enter more deeply into this. Let it be sufficient to have pointed out the possible significance of the hand of the Aztec by means of these parallel hand fantasies. We have mentioned the mother suggestively with the Sphinx. The Aztec, taking the place of the Sphinx, points through his suggestive hand to parallel fantasies in which the phallic hand really belongs to the mother. Likewise, we encounter an antique setting in parallel fantasies. The significance of the antique, which experience has shown to be the symbol for infantile, is confirmed by Miss Miller in this connection in the annotation to her fantasies. For she says: "In my childhood, I took a special interest in the Aztec fragments and in the history of Peru and of the Incas." Through the two analyses of children which have been published, we have attained an insight into the child's small world and have seen what burning interests and questions secretly surround the parents, and that the parents are for a long time the objects of the greatest interest. We are therefore justified in suspecting that the antique setting applies to the ancients, that is to say, the parents, and that consequently, this Aztec has something of the father or mother in himself. Up to this time, indirect hints point only to the mother, which is nothing remarkable in an American girl because Americans, as a result of the extreme detachment from the father, are characterized by a most enormous mother complex, which again is connected with the special social position of woman in the United States. This position brings about a special masculinity among capable women, which easily makes possible the symbolizing into a masculine figure.

After this vision, Miss Miller felt that a name formed itself bit by bit, which seemed to belong to this Aztec, the son of an Inca of Peru. The name is Gantel. As the author intimated, something similar to this belonged to her childish reminiscences. The act of naming is like baptism, something exceedingly important for the creation of a personality because since olden times a magic power has been attributed to the name, with which, for example, the spirit of the dead can be conjured. To know the name of anyone means in mythology to have power over that one. As a well-known example, I mention the fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin. In an Egyptian myth, Isis robs the sun god Ra permanently of his power by compelling him to tell her his real name. Therefore, to give a name means to give power, invest with a definite personality. The author observed in regard to the name itself that it reminded her very much of the impressive name "Popo Cotopaxi," a name which belongs to unforgettable school memories and, to the greatest indignation of the patient, very often emerges in an analysis in a dream or fantasy and brings with it the same old joke which one heard in school, told oneself, and later again forgot. Although one might hesitate to consider this unhallowed joke as of psychological importance, still one must inquire for the reason of its being. One must also put as a counter-question: why is it always "Popo Cotopaxi" and not "neighboring Ista Kuatal" or the even higher and just as clear "Ritzaba"? The last has certainly the more beautiful and more easily pronounced name. "Popo Cotopaxi" is impressive because of its onomatopoeic name. In English, the word is "to pop," "pop gun," which here is considered as onomatopoeic. In German, the words are "hinter," "pomen," "pumpern," "nickel," "bomb," "petard," "leet" equals "flatus." The frequent German word "pop" (podex) does not indeed exist in English, but "flatus" is designated as "to poop" in childish speech. The act of defecation is often designated as "to pop." A joking name for the posterior part is "the bomb." "Poop" also means the rear end of a ship. In French, "pouffe" is onomatopoeic, equals "baisen" (to explode). "La poupe" equals rear end of a ship. "Lard" equals the baby in arms. "La poup" equals doll. "Pon" is a pet name for a chubby-faced child. In Dutch "pop," German "papa," and Latin "pupus" equal doll and "plumpus." However, it is also used jokingly for the posterior part of the body. "Pupus" means child. "Pupilla" equals girl. "Little belly." The Greek word "papa" designates a cracking, snapping, or blowing sound. It is used of kissing by Theocritus, also of the associated noise of flute blowing. The etymological parallels show a remarkable relationship between the part of the body in question and the child. This relationship we will mention here only to let it drop at once, as this question will claim our attention later.

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

End of section 15.

Section 16 of Psychology of the Unconscious by Carl Jung. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.

Section 16.

Book Four, Part Two.

Now it seems to be very obscure why the mystical figure of Javan Tupole, whom Miss Miller in a note compares to the control spirit of the spiritualistic medium, is found in such a disreputable neighborhood that his nature name was brought into relation with this particular part of the body. In order to understand this possibility, we must realize that when we produce from the unconscious, the first to be brought forth is the infantile material long lost in memory. One must therefore take the point of view of that time in which this infantile material was still on the surface. If now a much-honored object is related in the unconscious to the anus, then one must conclude that something of a high valuation was expressed thereby. The question is only whether this corresponds to the psychology of the child.

Before we enter upon this question, it must be stated that the anal region is very closely connected with veneration. One thinks of the traditional feces of the Great Mogul. An oriental tale has the same to say of Christian knights who anointed themselves with the excrement of the Pope and cardinals in order to make themselves formidable. A patient who was characterized by a special veneration for her father had a fantasy that she saw her father sitting upon the toilet in a dignified manner, and people going past greeted him effusively. The association of the anal relations by no means excludes high valuation or esteem, as is shown by these examples, and as is easily seen from the intimate connection of feces and gold. Here the most worthless comes into the closest relation with the most valuable. This also happens in religious valuations. I discovered at that time, to my great astonishment, that a young patient, very religiously trained, represented in a dream the crucified on the bottom of a blue-flowered chamber pot, namely, in the form of excrements. The contrast is so enormous that one must assume that the valuations of childhood must indeed be very different from ours. This is actually the truth. Children bring to the act of defecation and the products of this an esteem and interest which later on is possible only to the hypochondriac. We do not comprehend this interest until we learn that the child very early connects with it a theory of propagation. The libido afflux probably accounts for the enormous interest in this act. The child sees that this is the way in which something is produced, in which something comes out. The same child whom I reported in the little brochure "Über Konflikte der Kindheit" and who had a well-developed anal theory of birth, like Little Hans whom Freud made known to us later, contracted a habit of staying a long time on the toilet. Once the father grew impatient, went to the toilet and called, "Do come out of there. What are you making?" Whereupon the answer came from within, "A little wagon and two ponies." The child was making a little wagon and two ponies, that is to say, things which at that time she especially wished for. In this way, one can make what one wishes, and the thing made is the thing wished for. The child wishes earnestly for a doll or, at heart, for a real child. That is, the child practiced for his future biological task, and in the way in which everything in general is produced. He made the doll himself as representative of the child or of the thing wished for in general.

From a patient, I have learned a parallel fantasy of her childhood. In the toilet, there was a crevice in the wall. She fantasied that from this crevice a fairy would come out and present her with everything for which she wished. The locus is known to be the place of dreams where much was wished for and created which later would no longer be suspected of having this place of origin. A pathological fantasy in place here is told us by Lombroso concerning two insane artists. Each of them considered himself God and the ruler of the world. They created or produced the world by making it come forth from the rectum. Just as the egg of birds originates in the egg canal. One of these two artists was endowed with a true artistic sense. He painted a picture in which he was just in the act of creation. The world came forth from his anus. The member was in full erection. He was naked, surrounded by women, and with all insignia of his power. The excrement is, in a certain sense, the thing wished for, and on that account it received the corresponding valuation.

When I first understood this connection, an observation made long ago, and which disturbed me greatly because I never rightly understood it, became clear to me. It concerned an educated patient who, under very tragic circumstances, had to be separated from her husband and child and was brought into the insane asylum. She exhibited a typical apathy and sullenness which was considered as effective mental deterioration. Even at that time, I doubted this deterioration and was inclined to regard it as a secondary adjustment. I took special pains to ascertain how I could discover the existence of the affect in this case. Finally, after more than three hours of hard work, I succeeded in finding a train of thought which suddenly brought the patient into a completely adequate and therefore strongly emotional state. At this moment, the affective connection with her was completely re-established. That happened in the forenoon. When I returned at the appointed time in the evening to the ward to see her, she had, for my reception, smeared herself from head to foot with excrement and cried laughingly, "Do I please you so?" She had never done that before. It was plainly destined for me. The impression which I received was one of a personal affront, and as a result of this, I was convinced for years after of the affective deterioration of such cases. Now we understand this act as an infantile ceremony of welcome or a declaration of love.

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

It is noteworthy that Miss Miller quotes another case where a name suddenly obtruded itself parallel to the emerging into consciousness of want, namely, "Ahasuerus," with the feeling that it dealt with something Assyrian. As a possible source of this, there occurred to her "Assur-bani-pal," who made ununiform bricks, those imperishable documents made from clay, the monuments of the most ancient history. If it were not emphasized that the bricks are ununiform, then it might mean ambiguously wedge-shaped bricks, which is more suggestive of our interpretation than that of the author. Miss Miller remarks that besides the name "Ashurama," she also thought of "Ahasuerus" or "Oasis." This fantasy leads to a very different aspect of the problem of the unconscious personality. While the previous materials portrayed to us something of the infantile theory of creation, this fantasy opens up a vista into the dynamics of the unconscious creation of personality. Ahasuerus is, as is well known, the Wandering Jew. He is characterized by endless and restless wanderings until the end of the world. The fact that the author has thought of this particular name justifies us in following this trail. The legends of Ahasuerus, the first literary traces of which belong to the 13th century, seem to be of accidental origin and belong to those ideas which possess indestructible vital energy. The figure of the Wandering Jew has undergone more literary elaboration than the figure of Faust, and nearly all of this work belongs to the last century. If the figure is not called Ahasuerus, still it is there under another name, perhaps as Count of St. Germain, the mysterious Rose, whose immortality was assured, and whose temporary residence in the land was equally known. Although the stories about Ahasuerus cannot be traced back any earlier than the 13th century, the oral tradition can reach back considerably further, and it is not an impossibility that a bridge to the Orient exists. There is the parallel figure of Khidr, or Al-Khidr, the ever-youthful Khidr, celebrated in song by Rückert. The legend is purely Islamic. The peculiar feature, however, is that Khidr is not only a saint, but in Sufi circles rises even to divine significance. In view of the severe monotheism of Islam, one is inclined to think of Khidr as a pre-Islamic Arabian divinity who would hardly be officially recognized by the new religion but might have been tolerated on political grounds. But there is nothing to prove that the first traces of Khidr are found in the commentaries of the Quran, Bukhari and Tabari, and in a commentary to a noteworthy passage of the 18th Surah of the Quran. The 18th Surah is entitled "The Cave," that is, after the cave of the Seven Sleepers, who, according to the legend, slept there for 309 years and thus escaped persecution and awoke in a new era. Their legend is recounted in the 18th Surah, and diverse reflections were associated with it. The wish-fulfillment idea of the legend is very clear. The mystic material for it is the immutable model of the sun's course. The sun sets periodically but does not die. It hides in the womb of the sea or in a subterranean cave, and in the morning is born again, complete. The language in which this astronomic occurrence is clothed is one of clear symbolism. The sun returns into the mother's womb and after some time is again born. Of course, this event is probably an incestuous act, of which in mythology clear traces are still retained, not the least of which is the circumstance that the dying and resurrected gods are the lovers of their own mothers or have generated themselves through their own mothers. Christ, as the God becoming flesh, has generated himself through Mary. Mithras has done the same. These gods are unmistakable sun gods. For the son also does this in order to again renew himself. Naturally, it is not to be assumed that astronomy came first and these conceptions of gods afterwards. The process was, as always, inverted. And it is even true that primitive magic charms of rebirth, baptism, superstitious usages of all sorts concerning the cure of the sick, etc., were projected into the heavens. These youths were born from the cave, the womb of mother earth, like the sun gods in a new era. And this was the way they vanquished death. In this wise, they were immortal.

It is now interesting to see how the Quran comes, after long ethical contemplations, in the course of the same Surah, to the following passage which is of special significance for the origin of the Khidr myth. For this reason, I quote the Quran literally: "Remember when Moses said to his servant, 'I will not stop till I reach the confluence of the two seas, or for eighty years will I journey on.' But when they reached their confluence, they forgot their fish, and it took its way in the sea at will. And when they had passed on, Moses said to his servant, 'Bring us our morning meal, for now we have incurred weariness from this our journey.' He said, 'What thinkest thou? When we repaired to the rock for rest, then verily I forgot the fish, and not but Satan made me forget it so as not to mention it, and it hath taken its way in the sea in a wondrous sort.' He said, 'It is this we were in quest of.' So they both went back, retracing their footsteps. Then found they one of our servants, to whom we had vouchsafed our mercy and whom we had instructed with our knowledge. Moses said to him, 'Shall I follow thee that thou teach me for guidance of that which thou hast been taught?' He said, 'Verily, thou canst by no means have patience with me, and how canst thou be patient in matters whose meaning thou comprehendest not.'" (Translation Rodwell, page 188.)

Moses now accompanies the mysterious servant of God, who does diverse things which Moses cannot comprehend. Finally, the unknown takes leave of Moses and speaks to him as follows: "They will ask thee of Dhul-Qarnayn, the two-horned. Say, 'I will recite to you an account of him. Verily, we established his power upon the earth, and we gave him the means to accomplish every end.' So he followed his way until when he reached the setting of the sun, he found it to set in a miry forest, and hard by he found a people." Now follows a moral reflection. Then the narrative continues: "Then he followed his course further until he came to the place where the sun rises." If now we wish to know who is the unknown servant of God, we are told in this passage he is Dhul-Qarnayn, Alexander the son. He goes to the place of setting, and he goes to the place of rising. The passage about the unknown servant of God is explained by the commentaries in a well-defined legend. The servant is Khidr, the verdant one, the never-tiring wanderer who roams for hundreds and thousands of years over lands and seas. The teacher and counselor of pious men, the one

Wise in divine knowledge, the immortal. The authority of the Tibari associates Jitter with Dal Carnine. Jitter is said to have reached the stream of life as a follower of Alexander, and both unwittingly had drunk of it so that they became immortal.

Moreover, Jitter is identified by the old commentators with Elias, who also did not die, but who was taken to heaven in a fiery chariot. Elias is Helios. It is to be observed that Ahaser also owes his existence to an obscure place in the Holy Christian scriptures. This place is to be found in Matthew 16:28.

First comes the scene where Christ appoints Peter as the rock of his church and nominates him the governor of his power. After that follows the prophecy of his death. And then comes the passage, "Verily I say unto you, there be some standing here which shall not taste of death till they see the son of man coming in his kingdom." Here follows the scene of the transfiguration, and was transfigured before them. And his face did shine as the sun, and his raignment was white as the light. And behold, there appeared unto them Moses and Elias talking with him. Then answered Peter and said unto Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here. If thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias."

From these passages, it appears that Christ stands on the same plane as Elias without being identified with him, although the people consider him as Elias. The ascension places Christ as identical with Elias. The prophecy of Christ shows that there exists, aside from himself, one or more immortals who shall not die until per Rosi. According to John 21:22, the boy John was considered as one of these immortals. And in the legend, he is in fact not dead, but merely sleeping in the ground until power sigh and breathe so that the dust swirls round his grave.

As is evident, there are passable bridges from Christ by way of Elias to Jitter and Acurus. It is said in an account of this legend that Dul Carnine led his friend Jitter to the source of life in order to have him drink of immortality. Alexander also bathed in the stream of life and performed the ritual ablutions. As I previously mentioned in a footnote, according to Matthew 17:12, John the Baptist is Elias, therefore primarily identical with Jitter.

Now, however, it is to be noted that in the Arabian legend, Jitter appears rather as a companion, or accompanied Jitter with Dol Carnine or with Elias, like under them or identified with them. There are therefore two similar figures who resemble each other, but who nevertheless are distinct. The analogous situation in the Christian legend is found in the scene by the Jordan where John leads Christ to the source of life. Christ is there the subordinate, John the superior, similar to Dal Carnine and Jitter, or Jitter and Moses, also Elias. The latter relation especially is such that Ballers compares Jitter and Elias on the one side with Gilgamesh and his immortal brother I bani, on the other side with the Dascuri, one of whom is immortal, the other mortal. This relation is also found in Christ and John the Baptist on the one hand, and Christ and Peter on the other.

The last-named parallel only finds its explanation through comparison with the mythic mysteries where the esoteric contents are revealed to us through monuments upon the mythic marble relief of Clagum Furt. It is represented how, with a halo, Mithra crowns Helios, who either kneels before him or else floats up to him from below. Mithra is represented on a mythic monument of Auster Birkin as holding in his right hand the shoulder of the mystic ox above Helios, who stands bowed down before him, the left hand resting on a sword hilt. A crown lies between them on the ground. Humont observes about this scene that it probably represents the divine prototype of the ceremony of the initiation into the degree of Miles, in which a sword and a crown were conferred upon the mystic. Helios is therefore appointed the Miles of Mithra.

In a general way, Mithra seems to occupy the role of patron to Helios, which reminds us of the boldness of Hercules towards Helios. Upon his journey towards Gerion, Helios burns too hotly. Hercules, full of anger, threatens him with his never-failing arrows. Therefore, Helios is compelled to yield and lends to the hero his sunship, with which he was accustomed to journey across the sea. Thus, Hercules returns to Arthia to the cattle herds of Gerion. On the monument at Clagenffort, Mithra is furthermore represented pressing Helios's hand, either in farewell or as a ratification. In a further scene, Mithra mounts the chariot of Helios, either for the ascension or the sea journey. Gumant is of the opinion that Mithra gives to Helios a sort of ceremonious investiture and consecrates him with his divine power by crowning him with his own hands.

This relation corresponds to that of Christ to Peter. Peter, through his symbol, the has the character of a sun god. After the ascension or sea journey of Christ, he is the visible pontiff of the divinity. He suffers therefore the same death, crucifixion, as Christ, and becomes the great Roman deity, Sol Invictus, the conquering, triumphant church itself embodied in the Pope. In the scene of Malchus, he is always shown as the Miles of Christ, to whom the sword is granted, and as the rock upon which the church is founded. The crown is also given to him, who possesses the power to bind and to set free. Thus, Christ, like the sun, is the visible god, whereas the Pope, like the heir of the Roman Caesars, is Sol Invictus. The setting sun appoints a successor whom he invests with the power of the sun god.

Carine gives Jitter eternal life. Jitter communicates his wisdom to Moses. There even exists a report according to which the forgetful servant of Joshua drinks from the well of life, whereupon he becomes immortal and is placed in a ship by Jitter and Moses as a punishment and is cast out to sea. Once more, a fragment of a sun myth: the motive of the sea journey. The primitive symbol which designates that portion of the zodiac in which the sun, with the winter solstice, again enters upon the yearly course, is the goat-fish sign, the Icthyopost. The sun mounts like a goat to the highest mountain and later goes into the water as a fish. The fish is the symbol of the child. For the child, before his birth, lives in the water like a fish, and the sun, because it plunges into the sea, becomes equally child and fish. The fish, however, is also a phallic symbol, also a symbol for the woman. Briefly stated, the fish is a libido symbol, and indeed, as it seems, predominantly for the renewal of the libido.

The journey of Moses with his servant is a life journey. Eighty years they grow old and lose their life force, Lida, that is, they lose the fish which pursues its course in a marvelous manner to the sea, which means the setting of the sun. When the two notice their loss, they discover at the place where the source of life is found, where the dead fish revived and sprang into the sea. Jitter, wrapped in his mantle, sitting on the ground. According to another version, he sat on an island in the sea, or in the wettest place on earth. That is, he was just born from the maternal depths where the fish vanished. The verdant one was born as a son of the deep waters, his head veiled. A Kabir, a proclaimer of divine wisdom, the old Babylonian Oannes, who was represented in the form of a fish and daily came from the sea as a fish to teach the people wisdom. His name was brought into connection with John's.

With the rising of the renewed sun, all that lived in darkness as water animal or fish, surrounded by all terrors of night and death, became as the shining, fiery firmament of the day. Thus the words of John the Baptist gain a special meaning: "I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance. But he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear. He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire." With Volers, we may also compare Jitter and Elias, Moses and his servant Joshua, with Gilgamesh and his brother Eabani. Gilgamesh wandered through the world, driven by anxiety and longing to find immortality. His path led him across the seas to the wise Atapishtim (Noah), who knew how to cross the waters of death. There Gilgamesh had to dive down to the bottom of the sea for the magical herb which was to lead him back to the land of men. When he had come again to his native land, a serpent stole the magic plant from him. The fish again slid into the sea, put on the return from the land of the blessed, and a mortal mariner accompanied him, who, banished by a curse of Uta Pishtim, was forbidden to return to the land of the blessed. Though Gomesh's journey had lost its purpose on account of the loss of the magic herb, instead he is accompanied by an immortal whose fate indeed we cannot learn from the fragments of the epic. This banished immortal is the model for Ahasver, as Jensen aptly remarked.

Again, we encounter the motive of Diacuri: mortal and immortal, setting and rising sun. This motive is also represented as if projected from the hero. The Sacrificium Mithriacum, the sacrifice of the bull, is in its religious representation very often flanked by the two Dathophores, Cotties and Cottopates, one with a raised and the other with a lowered torch. They represent brothers who reveal their character through the symbolic position of the torch. Cumont connects them, not without meaning, with the Solutes, who, as genii with the reverse torches, have traditional meaning. The one is supposed to stand for death, and the other for life. I cannot refrain from mentioning the similarity between the Sacrificium Mithraum, where the sacrificial bull in the center is flanked on both sides by Dathores, to the Christian sacrifice of the lamb (ram). The crucified is also traditionally flanked by the two thieves, one of whom ascends to paradise while the other descends to hell. The idea of the mortal and the immortal seems to have passed also into the Christian worship. Submitting gods are often represented as flanked by two parros, for example, Baal of Adessa accompanied by Aziz and Mona Moes. Baal, as the sun, accompanied by Mars and Mercury, as expressed in astronomical teachings. According to the Chaldian view, the gods are grouped into triads. In this circle of ideas belongs also the trinity, the idea of the triune God, in which Christ must be considered in his unity with the Father and the Holy Ghost. So too do the two thieves belong inwardly to Christ. The two Dathophores are, as Cumont points out, nothing but offshoots from the chief figure of Mithra, to whom belongs a mysterious three-fold character. According to an account of Dionysis Areopagita, the magician celebrated a festival tone patella mythopa of the threefold Mithra. An observation likewise referring to the trinity is made by Plutarch concerning Ormuz at a ton. Having expanded himself three-fold, he departed from the sun. The trinity as three different states of the unity is also a Christian thought.

In the very first place, this suggests the sun myth. An observation about Macrobius 1:18 seems to lend support to this idea. In Latin: "Now these differences in the seasons refer to the sun, which seems at the winter solstice an infant, such as the Egyptians on a certain day bring out of their sanctuaries. At the vernal equinox, it is represented as a youth. Later, at the summer solstice, its age is represented by a full growth of beard, while at the last, the god is represented by the gradually diminishing form of an old man." As Kiman observes, Cotties and Katapates occasionally carry in their hands the head of a bull and a scorpion. Taurus and Scorpio are equinoxial signs, which clearly indicate that the sacrificial scene refers primarily to the sun cycle. The rising sun, which sacrifices itself at the summer solstice, and the setting sun. In the sacrificial scene, the symbol of the rising and setting sun was not easily represented. Therefore, this idea was removed from the sacrificial image. We have pointed out above that the Dascuri represent a similar idea, although in a somewhat different form. The one son is always mortal, the other immortal. As this entire sun mythology is merely a psychological projection to the heavens, the fundamental thesis probably is as follows: Just as man consists of a mortal and an immortal part, so the sun is a pair of brothers, one being mortal, the other immortal. This thought lies at the basis of all theology in general. Man is indeed mortal, but there are some who are immortal, or there is something in us which is immortal. Thus, the gods of Jitter or of St. Jere are our immortal part, which, though incomprehensible, dwells among us somewhere.

Comparison with the sun teaches us over and over again that the gods are libido. It is that part of us which is immortal, since it represents that bond through which we feel that in the race we are never extinguished. It is life from the life of mankind. It springs which well up from the depths of an unconscious come, as does our life in general, from the root of the whole of humanity. Since we are indeed only a twig broken off from that mother and transplanted. Since the divine in us is the libido, we must not wonder that we have taken along with us in our theology ancient representations from olden times which give the triune figure to the god. We have taken this three-fold god from the phallic symbolism, the originality of which may well be uncontested. The male genitals are the basis for this trinity. It is an anatomical fact that one testicle is generally placed somewhat higher than the other. And it is also old, but nevertheless still surviving superstition, that one testicle generates a boy and the other a girl.

A late Babylonian bob leaf from La Jarard's collection seems to be in accordance with this view. In the middle of the image stands an androgynous god, masculine and feminine face. Upon the right male side is found a serpent with a sun halo around its head. Upon the left female side, there is also a serpent with the moon. Above its head, above the head of the god, there are three stars. This ensemble would seem to confirm the trinity of the representation. The sun, serpent at the right side, is male. The serpent at the left side is female, signified by the moon. This image possesses a symbolic sexual suffix, which makes the sexual significance of the whole obtrusive. Upon the male's side, a romp is found, a favorite symbol of the female genitals. Upon the female side, there is a wheel or felly. A wheel always refers to the sun, but the spokes are thickened and enlarged at the ends, which suggests phallic symbolism. It seems to be a phallic wheel, which was not unknown in antiquity. There are obscene reliefs where Cupid turns a wheel of nothing but phalli. It is not only the serpent which suggests the phallic significance of the sun. I quote one especially marked case from an abundance of proof in the antique collection of at Verona. I discovered a late Roman mystic inscription which are the following representations. These symbols are easily read: Sun, phallus, moon, vagina, uterus. This interpretation is confirmed by another figure of the same collection. There the same representation is found, only the vessel is replaced by the figure of a woman. The impressions on coins where in the middle a palm is seen and coiled by a snake, flanked by two stones (testicles), or else in the middle a stone encircled by a snake, to the right a palm, to the left a shell (female genitals), should be interpreted in a similar manner.

In Ljard's researches, the cult of Venus, there is a coin of Perga where Artemis of Perga is represented by a conical stone (phallic), flanked by a man claimed to be Men, and by a female figure claimed to be Artemis. Men, the so-called Lunus, is found upon an attic relief, apparently with the spear, but fundamentally a scepter with a phallic significance, flanked by a pan with a club (Phus) and a female figure. The traditional representation of the crucified flanked by John and Mary is closely associated with this circle of ideas, precisely as is the crucified with the thieves. From this, we see how, beside the sun, there emerges again and again the much more primitive comparison of the libido with the phallus, and a special trace still deserves mention here. The Dathophores, Katapates, who represents Mithra, is also represented with the and the pineapple. But these are the attributes of the Phrygian god Men, whose cult was widely diffused. Men was represented with paleus, the pineapple, and the also in the form of a boy, just as the Dathores are boyish figures. This last-named property relates them with Men to the Kabiri. Men has a very close connection with Adonis, the son and lover of Cybele. In the time of the Roman Caesars, Min and Adonis were entirely identified. As stated above, Adonis also wears the phallus-like Men, Mithra, and the Daphores. As the son and lover of his mother, he again leads us to the source of this religion, creating incest, libido, namely to the mother. Incest leads logically to ceremony castration in the Attic Cybele cult, for the hero, driven insane by his mother, mutilates himself. I must at present forego entering more deeply into this matter because the incest problem is to be discussed at the close. Let this suggestion suffice that from different directions, the analysis of the libido symbolism always leads back again to the mother incest. Therefore, we may surmise that the longing of the libido, raised to God, repressed into the unconscious, is a primitive incestuous one which concerns the mother. Through renouncing the virility to the first beloved, the mother, the feminine element becomes extremely predominant. Hence, the strongly androgynous character of the dying and resurrected redeemer. That these heroes are nearly always wanderers is a psychologically clear symbolism. The wandering is a representation of longing, of the ever-restless desire which nowhere finds its object, for unknown to itself, it seeks the lost mother. The wandering association renders the sun comparison easily intelligible. Also under this aspect, the heroes always resemble the wandering son, which seems to justify the fact that the myth of the hero is a sun myth. But the myth of the hero, however, is, as it appears to me, the myth of our own suffering unconscious, which has an unquenchable longing for all the deepest sources of our own being, for the body of the mother, and through it for communion with infinite life in the countless forms of existence.

Here I must introduce the words of the master who has divined the deepest roots of Faustian longings: "Unwilling, I reveal a loftier mystery. In solitude are thrown the goddesses. No space around them, place and time stillless, only to speak of them embarrasses. They are the mothers. Goddesses unknown to ye the mortals, named by us unwillingly. Delve in the deepest depths must thou to reach them. It is thine own fault that we for help besiege them. Where is the way? No way to the unreachable near to be trodden. A way to the unbeseechable never to be besought. Art thou prepared? There are no locks, no latches to be lifted; through endless solitude shalt thou be drifted. Hast thou through solitudes and deserts dared? And hast thou swam to farthest verge of ocean? And there the boundless space beheld, still hast thou seen wave after wave in motion, even though impending doom thy fear compelled. Thou hast seen something in the barrel dim of peace. L seas the sport of dolphins swim. Had seen the flying clouds, sun, moon, and star. Not shalt thou see an endless void afar. Not hear thy footstep fall, nor meet a stable spot to rest thy feet. Here take this key. The key will send the true place from all others. Follow it down. Will lead thee to the mothers. Descend then. I could also say ascend to all the same. Escape from that created two shapeless forms and liberated spaces. Enjoy what long if this was dissipated, there whirls the press like clouds on clouds unfolding. Then with stretched arm swing high the key thou art holding. At last a blazing tripod tells thee this, that there the utterly deepest bottom is. Its light to thee will then the mothers show. Some in their seats, the others stand or go at their own will. Formation, transformation, the eternal minds, the eternal recreation, forms of all creatures there are floating free. They'll see thee not, for only rays they see. So pluck up heart. The danger then is great. Go to the tripod. Air thou hesitate and touch it with the key."

End of section 16. Section 17 of Psychology of the Unconscious by Carl Jung. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Section 17, chapter 5, part one of symbolism of the mother and of rebirth.

The vision following the creation of the hero is described by Miss Miller as a throng of people. This representation is known to us from dream interpretation as being above all the symbol of mystery. Freud thinks that this choice of symbol is determined on account of its possibility of representing the idea. The bearer of the mystery is placed in opposition to the multitude of the ignorant. The possession of the mystery cuts one off from intercourse with the rest of mankind. For a very complete and smooth rapport with the surroundings is of great importance for the management of the libido, and the possession of a subjectively important secret generally creates a great disturbance. It may be said that the whole art of life shrinks to the one problem of how the libido may be freed in the most harmless way possible. Therefore, the neurotic derives special benefit in treatment when he can at last rid himself of his various secrets. The symbol of the crowd of people, chiefly the streaming and moving mass, is, as I have often seen, substituted for the great excitement in the unconscious, especially in persons who are outwardly calm. The vision of the throng develops further. Horses emerge. A battle is fought with sill burr. I might accept the significance of this vision as belonging first of all in the functional category because fundamentally the conception of the intermingling crowds is nothing but the symbol of the present onrush of the mass of thought. Likewise the battle and possibly the horses which illustrate the movement. The deeper significance of the appearance of the horses will be seen for the first time in the further chorus of our treatment of the mother symbolism.

The following vision has a more definite and significantly important character. Miss Miller sees a city of dreams dev. The picture is similar to one she saw a short time before on the cover of a magazine. Unfortunately, we learn nothing further about it. One can easily imagine under this site deb a fulfilled wish dream, that is to say, something very beautiful and greatly longed for, a sort of heavenly Jerusalem as the poet of the Apocalypse has dreamed it. The city is a maternal symbol, a woman who fosters the inhabitants as children. It is therefore intelligible that the two mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele both wear the wall crown. The Old Testament treats the cities of Jerusalem, Babel, etc., as women. Isaiah 47:1-5: "Come down and sit in the dust, O virgin, daughter of Babylon. Sit on the ground. There is no throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans, for thou shalt no more be called tender and delicate. Take the millstones and grind meal. Uncover thy locks, make bare the leg, uncover the thigh, pass over the rivers; thy nakedness shall be uncovered, yea, thy shame shall be seen. Set thou silent, and get thee into darkness, O daughter of the Chaldeans, for thou shalt no more be called the lady of kingdoms." Jeremiah says of Babel 50:12, "Your mother shall be sore confounded; she that bare you shall be ashamed." Strong, unconquered cities are virgins. Colonies are sons and daughters. Cities are also Isaiah says of Tyre 23:16, "Take an harp, go about the city, thou harlot that hast been forgotten." And how does it come to pass that the virtuous city has become a harlot?

We come across a similar symbolism in the myth of Ogyges, the mythical king who rules in Egyptian Thebes, and whose wife was appropriately named Phoebe. The Boeotian Thebes, founded by Cadmus, received on that account a surname Ogygian. This surname was also given to the great flood, as it was called Ogygian because it occurred under Ogyges. This coincidence will be found later on to be hardly accidental. The fact that the city and the wife of Ogyges bear the same name indicates that somewhere a relation must exist between the city and the woman, which is not difficult to understand, for the city is identical with the woman. We meet a similar idea in Hindu lore, where Indra appears as the husband of Urvara, but Urvara means the fertile land. In a similar way, the occupancy of a country by the king was understood as marriage with the plowed land. Similar representations must have prevailed in Europe as well. Princes had to guarantee, for example, a good harvest at their accession. The Swedish king Doaldi was actually killed on account of the failure of the harvest in Glinga Saga 18. In the Rama saga, the hero Rama marries Sita, the fur of the field. Do the same group of ideas belong to the Chinese custom of the emperor plowing a furrow at his accession to the throne? This idea of the soil being feminine also embraces the idea of continual companionship with the woman, of physical communication. Shiva, the phallic god, is like Maha Deva and Parvati, male and female. He has even given one half of his body to his consort Parvati as a dwelling place. Inman gives us a drawing of a pundit of our dinari: one half of the god is masculine, the other half feminine, and the genitals are in continuous cohabitation. The motive of continuous cohabitation is expressed in a well-known lingam symbol, which is to be found everywhere in Indian temples. The base is a female symbol, and within that is the phallus. The symbol approaches very closely the Grecian mystic phallic basket and chest. Compare with this the Eleusinian mysteries. The chest or box is here a female symbol, that is, the mother's womb. This is a very well-known conception in the old mythologies. The chest, basket, or little basket with its precious contents was thought of as floating on the water. A remarkable inversion of the natural fact that the child floats in the amniotic fluid and that this is in the uterus. This inversion brings about a great advantage for sublimation, for it creates enormous possibilities of application for the myth-weaving fantasy, that is to say, for the annexation to the sun cycle. The sun floats over the sea like an immortal god, which every evening is immersed in the maternal water and is born again renewed in the morning. Frobenius says, perhaps in connection with the blood-red sunrise, the idea occurs that here a birth takes place, the birth of a young son. The question then arises inevitably: whence comes the paternity? How has the woman become pregnant? And since this woman symbolizes the same idea as the fish, which means the sea, because we proceed from the assumption that the sun descends into the sea as well as arises from it. Thus, the curious primitive answer is that this sea has previously swallowed the old son. Consequently, the resulting myth is that the woman-sea has formerly devoured the sun and now brings a new son into the world, and thus she has become pregnant. All these seagoing gods are sun symbols. They are enclosed in a chest or an ark for the night journey on the sea. Frobenius often, together with a woman. Again, an inversion of the actual situation, but in support of the motive of continuous cohabitation, which we have met above. During the night journey on the sea, the sun god is enclosed in the mother's womb, oftentimes threatened by dangers of all kinds. Instead of many individual examples, I will content myself with reproducing the scheme which Frobenius has constructed from numberless myths of this sort: To devour, west, east, heat, hair, to slip out, to open, to land, west to east, movement, sea journey, she journey to, to set on fire or to cut off the heart. Frobenius gives the following legend to illustrate this: A hero is devoured by a water monster in the west (to devour). The animal carries him within him to the east (sea journey). Meanwhile, he kindles a fire in the belly of the monster (to set on fire). And since he feels hungry, he cuts off a piece of the hanging heart (to cut off the heart). Soon after, he notices that the fish glides upon the dry land (to land). He immediately begins to cut open the animal from within outwards (to open). Then he slides out (to slip out) in the fish's belly. It had been so hot that all his hair had fallen out (eat hair). The hero frequently frees all who were previously devoured (to devour all). And all now slide out, slip out. A very close parallel is Noah's journey during the flood, in which all living creatures die. Only he and the life guarded by him are brought to a new birth. In a Melian legend for obedience, it is told that the hero, in the belly of the king fish, took his weapon and cut open the fish's belly. He slid out and saw a splendor, and he sat down and reflected. "I wonder where I am," he said. Then the sun rose with a bound and turned from one side to the other. The sun has again slipped out.

Frobenius mentions from the Ramayana the myth of the ape Hanuman, who represents the sun hero. The sun, in which Hanuman hurries through the air, throws a shadow upon the sea. The sea monster notices this and through this draws Hanuman toward itself. When the latter sees that the monster is about to devour him, he stretches out his figure immeasurably. The monster assumes the same gigantic proportions. As he does that, Hanuman becomes as small as a thumb, slips into the great body of the monster, and comes out on the other side. In another part of the poem, it is said that he came out from the right ear of the monster, like Gargantua, who also was born from the mother's ear. Hanuman thereupon resumes his flight and finds a new obstacle in another sea monster, which is the mother of Rahu, the sun-devouring demon. The latter draws Hanuman's shadow to her in the same way. Hanuman again has recourse to the earlier stratagem, becomes small, and slips into her body, but hardly is he there, then he grows to a gigantic mass, swells up, tears her, kills her, and in that way makes his escape. Thus we understand why the Indian firebringer Maricha is called "the one swelling in the mother." The ark, little box, chest, cask, vessel, etc., is a symbol of the womb, just as is the sea into which the sun sinks for rebirth. From this circle of ideas, we understand the mythologic statements about Ogyges: he it is who possesses the mother, the city, who is united with the mother. Therefore, under him came the great flood, for it is a typical fragment of the sun myth that the hero, when united with the woman attained with difficulty, is exposed in a cask and thrown into the sea, and then lands for new life on a distant shore. The middle part, the night journey on the sea in the ark, is lacking in the tradition of Ogyges. But the rule in mythology is that the typical parts of a myth can be united in all conceivable variations, which adds greatly to the extraordinary difficulty of the interpretation of a particular myth without knowledge of all the others. The meaning of this cycle of myths mentioned here is clear. It is the longing to attain rebirth through the return to the mother's womb. That is to say, to become as immortal as the sun. This longing for the mother is frequently expressed in our holy scriptures. I recall particularly the place in the epistle to the Galatians where it is said: 4:26, "But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all. 27 For it is written, Rejoice, thou barren that bearest not; break forth and cry, thou that travailest not: for the desolate hath many more children than she which hath an husband. 28 Now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are the children of promise. 29 But as he that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the spirit, even so it is now. 30 Nevertheless what saith the scripture? Cast out the bondwoman and her son: for the son of the bondwoman shall not be heir with the son of the freewoman. 31 So then, brethren, we are not children of the bondwoman, but of the free."

Chapter 5. 1. "Standfast, therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free." The Christians are the children of the city above, a symbol of the mother, not sons of the earthly city mother who is to be cast out. For those born after the flesh are opposed to those born after the spirit, who are not born from the mother in the flesh, but from a symbol for the mother. One must again think of the Indians at this point, who say the first people proceeded from the swordill and a shuttle. The religious thought is bound up with the compulsion to call the mother no longer mother, but city, source, sea, etc. This compulsion can be derived from the need to manifest an amount of libido bound up with the mother, but in such a way that the mother is represented by or concealed in a symbol.

The symbolism of the city we find well-developed in the Revelation of John, where two cities play a great part. One of which is insulted and cursed by him, the other greatly desired. We read in Revelation 17:1: "Come hither; I will show unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters; 2 With whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and the inhabitants of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her fornication. 3 So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet coloured beast full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns. 4 And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication: 5 And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH. 6 And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration." Here follows an interpretation of the vision unintelligible to us, from which we can only emphasize the point that the seven heads of the dragon means the seven hills upon which the woman sits. This is probably a distinct allusion to Rome, the city whose temporal power oppressed the world at the time of the Revelation. The waters upon which the woman, the mother, sits are peoples and throngs and nations and tongues. This also seems to refer to Rome, for she is the mother of peoples and possessed all lands. Just as in common speech, for example, colonies are called daughters, so the people subject to Rome are like members of a family subject to the mother. In another version of the picture, the kings of the people, namely the fathers, commit fornication with this mother. Revelation continues 18:2: "And he cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird. 3 For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication." Thus, this mother does not only become the mother of all abominations, but also in truth the receptacle of all that is wicked and unclean. The birds are images of souls. Therefore, this means all souls of the condemned and evil spirits. Thus, the mother becomes Hecate, the underworld, the city of the damned itself. We recognize easily in the ancient idea of the woman on the dragon, the above-mentioned representation of Agdistis, the mother of the infernal horrors. Babylon is the idea of the terrible mother who seduces all people to whoredom with devilish temptation and makes them drunk with her wine. The intoxicating drink stands in the closest relation to fornication, for it is also a libido symbol, as we have already seen in the parallel of fire and sun.

After the fall and curse of Babylon, we find in Revelation 19:6-7: "Hallelujah; for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. 7 Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready. 8 And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints. 9 And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb." The Lamb is the Son of Man, who celebrates his marriage with the woman. Who the woman is remains obscure at first, but Revelation 21:9 shows us which woman is the bride, the Lamb's wife. 9 "Come hither, I will show thee the bride, the Lamb's wife. 10 And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, 11 Having the glory of God." It is evident from this quotation, after all that goes before, that the city, the heavenly bride, who is here promised to the son, is the mother. In Babylon, the impure maid was cast out according to the Epistle to the Galatians, so that here in heavenly Jerusalem, the mother-bride may be attained the more surely. It bears witness to the most delicate psychologic perception that the fathers of the church who formulated the canons preserve this bit of the symbolic significance of the Christ mystery. It is a treasure house for the fantasies and myth materials which underlie primitive Christianity. The further attributes which were heaped upon the heavenly Jerusalem make its significance as mother overwhelmingly clear. One: "And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. Two: In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month, and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of nations. Three: And there shall be no more curse."

In this quotation, we come upon the symbol of the waters, which we found in the mention of Ogyges in connection with the city. The maternal significance of water belongs to the clearest symbolism in the realm of mythology, so that the ancients could say in Greek, "the sea is the symbol of birth." From water comes life. Therefore, of the two gods which here interest us the most, Christ and Mithra, the latter was born beside a river according to representations, while Christ experienced his new birth in the Jordan. Moreover, he is born from the Theotokos, the "mother of God," who by the heathen Christian legend was made a nymph of the spring. The spring is also found in Mithraism. A Pannonian dedication reads, "Fonti Pini." An inscription in Apulia is dedicated to the "Fanes" (springs). She is born from foam. The Neo-Persians designate the planet Venus and a new girl by the name Nahed. In the temples of Anaitis, there exist prostitute harlots. In the Sakæa, in honor of Anaitis, there occurred ritual combats, as in the festival of the Egyptian Aries and his mother. In the Vedas, the waters are called Matra Ma, the most maternal. All that is living rises, as does the sun, from the water, and at evening plunges into the water. Born from the springs, the rivers, the seas. At death, man arrives at the waters of the Styx in order to enter upon the night journey on the sea. The wish is that the black water of death might be the water of life, that death, with its cold embrace, might be the mother's womb, just as the sea devours the son, but brings it forth again out of the maternal womb. Jonah moed: "Life believes not in death. In the flood of life, in the torrent of deeds, I toss up and down. I am blown to and fro, cradle and grave, an eternal sea, a changing web, a glowing life." Goethe.

The navan, the wood of life or the tree of life, is a maternal symbol, which was seemed to follow from the previous deductions. The etymologic connection of "dendron" (tree) and "bios" (life) in the Indo-Germanic root suggests the blending of the meanings in the underlying symbolism of mother and of generation. The tree of life is probably first of all a fruit-bearing genealogical tree, that is, a mother image. Countless myths prove the derivation of man from trees. Many myths show how the hero is enclosed in the maternal tree. Thus, dead Osiris in the column, Adonis in the myrtle, etc. Numerous female divinities were worshiped as trees, from which resulted the cult of the holy groves and trees. It is of transparent significance when Adonis castrates himself under a pine tree. That is, he does it because of the mother. Goddesses were often worshiped in the form of a tree or of a wood. Thus, Juno of Ephesus was a branch of a tree. Juno of Samos was a board. Juno of Argos was a column. The Carer and Diana was an uncut piece of wood. Athena of Lindis was a polished column. Tertullian calls Cybele of Pharoah's Rutus palace at Inform Lnum's effigy. Athenæus remarks of Latona at Delos that she is anaton and th a shapeless piece of wood. Tertullian calls an attic palace kus dippus a wooden pale or mast. The wooden pale is phallic, as the name suggests. Palathon palace. The palace is a pale, a ceremonial legum carved out of figwood, as are all Roman statues of Priapus. Palos means a projection or centerpiece on the helmet, later called panos, just as ananas signifies ballheadedness on the forepart of the head and signifies ballheadedness in regard to the palos nonamas of the helmet. A semifallic meaning is given to the upper part of the head as well. Palabanas has besides palafas. The significance of wooden powers cylinder, palas, a round beam. The Macedonian battle array, distinguished by its powerful impetus, is called palofus. Moreover, the finger joint is called palolus. Palo is a whale. Now palos appears with the meaning shining, brilliant. The Indo-Germanic root is bala = to bulge, to swell. Who does not think of fast? It grows, it shines, increases in my hand. That is primitive libido symbolism, which shows how immediate is the connection between phallic libido and light. The same relations are found in the Rigveda in Rudra's utterances. Rigveda 1:143: "May we obtain your favor, thou man ruling, oh urinating Rudra. I refer here to the previously mentioned phallic symbolism of Rudra in the Upanishads. For we call for help below, to the flaming Rudra, to the one bringing the sacrifice, him who encircles and wanders, wandering in the vault of heaven, to the sear. 2:33:5 He who opens up the sweet, who listens to our calls, the ruddy one with the beautiful helmet, may he not give us over to the powers of jealousy. 6: I have been rejoiced by the bull connected with Marut, the supplicating one with strong force of life. 8: Sound the powerful song of praise to the ruddy bull, to the white shining one. Worship the flaming one with honor. We sing of the shining being Rudra. May Rudra's missile arrow not be used on us. May the great displeasure of the shining one pass us by. Unbend the firm bow or hard arrow for the princes. Thou who bless us with the waters of thy body, generative strength, be gracious to our children and grandchildren."

In this way, we pass from the realm of mother symbolism imperceptibly into the realm of male phallic symbolism. This element also lies in the tree, even in the family tree, as is distinctly shown by the medieval family trees. From the first ancestor, there grows upward in the place of the membr trunk of the great tree. The bisexual symbolic character of the tree is intimated by the fact that in Latin trees have a masculine termination and a feminine gender. The feminine, especially the maternal meaning of the forest, and the phallic significance of trees in dreams is well known. I mention an example. It concerned a woman who had always been nervous and who, after many years of marriage, became ill as a result of the typical retention of the libido. She had the following dream after she had learned to know a young man of many engaging free opinions who was very pleasing to her. She found herself in a garden where stood a remarkable exotic tree with strange red fleshy flowers or fruits. She picked them and ate them. Then, to her horror, she felt that she was poisoned. This dream idea may easily be understood by means of the antique or poetic symbolism, so I can spare information as to the analytic material. The double significance of the tree is readily explained by the fact that such symbols are not to be understood anatomically but psychologically as libido symbols. Therefore, it is not permissible to interpret the tree on account of its similar form as directly phallic. It can also be called a woman or the uterus of the mother. The uniformity of the significance lies alone in the similarity to the libido. One loses one's way in one cul-de-sac after another by saying that this is the symbol substituted for the mother and that for the penis. In this realm, there is no fixed significance of things. The only reality here is the libido, for which all that is perishable is merely a symbol. It is not the physical actual mother, but the libido of the son, the object of which was once the mother.