Since I will be away from tomorrow until Saturday, visiting a friend and attending a concert together, I’ll just say hello and goodbye with my best wishes.
It will be a welcome change of pace in these turbulent times, though my friend is also Iranian, so there will definitely be some deep discussions.
Dr Jung’s philosophy (thoughts) suggests that a “break” often serves as an invitation to explore the unconscious, encouraging a shift from merely doing to a state of being.
“As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being”.
Dr Jung’s insight about the nature of existence is thoughtfully highlighted at the conclusion of his Life and Death chapter in Memories, Dreams, and Reflections:
Our age has shifted all emphasis to the here and now, and thus brought about a daemonization of man and his world. The phenomenon of dictators and all the misery they have wrought springs from the fact that man has been robbed of transcendence by the shortsightedness of the super-intellectuals. Like them, he has fallen victim to unconsciousness. But man’s task is the exact opposite: to become conscious of the contents that press upward from the unconscious. Neither should he persist in his unconsciousness, nor remain identical with the unconscious elements of his being, thus evading his destiny, which is to create more and more consciousness. As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. It may even be assumed that just as the unconscious affects us, so the increase in our consciousness affects the unconscious. ~Carl Jung, MDR, Page 326.(Via carljungdepthpsychologysite.blog, with thanks)
The band we’re meeting is called UFO, and they’re roughly my age, although the videos below are from their earlier years.
I think it’s time to set aside our current critical perspective on life for a moment and take a deeper look. Jiddu Krishnamurti can gently guide us and help us see things anew.
Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895-1986) was a prominent spiritual teacher and philosopher, famous for his rejection of organised religion, gurus, and spiritual authorities, including his own. Born in colonial India, his life changed when members of the Theosophical Society recognised him as the expected “World Teacher.” In 1929, at age 34, he disbanded his organisation, stating that “truth is a pathless land” and no belief system ensures understanding. Over more than sixty years, Krishnamurti travelled globally, giving talks on the mind, consciousness, and suffering. His teachings emphasised direct observation and awareness, urging questioning of authority to achieve psychological freedom. He believed that the separation between the observer and the observed causes conflict. He encouraged living without fear, exploring love and relationships, and transforming consciousness. His legacy includes books, talks, and schools, inspiring individuals to seek truth from within rather than externally.
Jiddu Krishnamurti’s Parables and Poems
Jiddu Krishnamurti’s parables and poems are central to his teachings, offering glimpses of truth through imagery and metaphor rather than through direct argument. These works appeal to intuition and feeling, promoting immediate perception, often inspired by nature—such as a flower blooming or a bird flying—while highlighting his core idea that truth is perceived directly rather than through thought or belief. They do not explain but point, creating space for sudden insights beyond words. His poems share this sense of immediacy; they are simple, unembellished, emerging from attentive presence—watching, listening, and being aware. Their language is calm, observing without a separate observer, often dissolving the boundary between seer and seen, reflecting his teaching that authentic perception occurs only when the self is absent. These works are essential because they echo his main message: transformation arises through direct insight, not through knowledge. Instead of enriching conceptual understanding, they invite us to set aside concepts, to observe, listen, and remain present without interpretation. His literary works might be his most genuine expression—offering not solutions but gateways to experience.
Once upon a time, when there was great understanding and in a world full of rejoicing, there lived a gentlewoman full of years. One day, she found herself in a temple before an altar made by human hands. She was crying bitterly to heaven, and none was there to comfort her, till in the long last, a friend of God took notice of her and asked the reason for her tears. “God must have forgotten me. My husband is gracious and well. My children are full and strong. Many servants are there to care for us. All things are well with me, and mine own. God has forgotten us.” The friend of God replied, “God never forgets His children.” When she came home, she found her son dead. She never cried. “God remembers me and mine own.”
Every step we take in life lays the foundation for the experiences we gather. Krishnamurti soon recognised these and attempted to share his experience with us.
A HYMN
I have stood in Thy holy presence. I have seen the splendour of Thy face. I prostrate at Thy sacred feet. I kiss the hem of Thy garment, I have felt the glory of Thy beauty. I have seen Thy serene look. Thy wisdom has opened my closed eyes. Thine eternal peace has transfigured me. Thy tenderness, the tenderness of a mother to her child, The teacher to his pupil, I have felt. Thy compassion for all things, living and non-living, the animate and inanimate, I have felt. Thy joy, indescribable, has thrilled me. Thy voice has opened in me many voices. Thy touch has awakened my heart. Thine eyes have opened mine eyes. Thy glory has kindled the glory in me. Master of Masters, I have longed, yea, yearned for this happy hour, when I should stand in Thy holy presence. At last, it has been granted unto me.
I am happy. I am peaceful, peaceful as the bottom of a deep, blue lake. I am calm, calm as the snow-clad mountain-top above the storm clouds. I have longed for this hour; it has come. I shall follow humbly in Thy footsteps along that path which Thy holy feet have trodden. I shall humbly serve the world, the world for which Thou hast suffered, sacrificed and toiled. I shall bring that peace into the world. I have longed for this happy hour; it has come.
Thine image is in mine heart. Thy compassion is burning in me. Thy wisdom guides me. Thy peace enlightens me. Thy tenderness has given me the power to sacrifice. Thy love has given me energy. Thy glory pervades my entire being.
I have yearned for this hour; it has come, in all the splendour of a glorious spring. I am as young as the youngest. I am as old as the oldest. I am happy as a blind lover, for I have found my love. I have seen. I can never be blind, though a thousand years pass. I have seen Thy divine face everywhere, in the stone, in the blade of grass, in the giant pines of the forest, in the reptile, in the Hon, in the criminal, in the saint. I have longed for this magnificent moment; it came and
I have grasped it. I have stood in Thy presence. I have seen the splendour of Thy face. I prostrate at Thy sacred feet. I kiss the hem of Thy garment.
Thanks a lot for visiting and for your time in reading! 🙏💖🙏
With a warm greeting to all my friends, I didn’t want to keep writing critical articles repeatedly, although I see no way to look away from all these terrible happenings around me, and around you all, for sure.
Although this topic is quite old—one that Al and I came across in our youth as we distanced ourselves from the masses—we initially believed it was a characteristic of the Third World due to inadequate education systems. However, later observing in the West, we realised it is very common there as well. Therefore, I decided to analyse it, at least for my own understanding, to explore how it might be possible:
As I observe the world and its phenomena, I repeatedly notice the absence of consideration, recklessness, and ignorance shown by many people, and above all, the lack of individuality.
It is not a matter of living in the third world, which we might argue is due to poor education or oppressive rulers! That already happens in the free world!
I think people are getting lazier, aiming for a more comfortable life without the stress of thinking, decision-making, or solitude, which leads to a loss of their individuality. As AI advances, the significance of the self-mind diminishes; the artificial mind assumes creative functions, rendering learning unnecessary.
They often prefer to be part of a crowd that takes them somewhere, no matter the outcome. This reduces the need to use the mind, enabling everyone to enjoy life effortlessly and without deep understanding; making judgments becomes simpler.
I’ve often met people with such judgments; they use these to solve problems that require thought or research to discover the truth, and then they feel proud of their ingenuity.
In this chaos, a deep examination of issues quickly leads to dismissal, labelling as an outsider and a foreigner, and, subsequently, isolation.
Benjamin Franklin’s expression is quite adept: “We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.”!
The main profit, naturally, goes to the politician. Populism comes to the fore; the bigger the mouth and the louder the voice, the more it draws the crowds, because there is a greater resemblance among them; the stupid always gravitate towards the same type!
I am witnessing the severe turmoil in Iran. The son of Iran’s late Shah, echoing President Trump, urged people to protest against the Mullahs’ regime. “We are coming!” they both declared. Many took to the streets, risking their lives, and thousands have lost their lives. Yet, no one has offered them support. Now, helping the Iranian people is forgotten, as President Trump proudly discusses a deal with the murderous regime!!
One no longer faces the agony of decision – no more being spoiled for choice! They lose their individuality and dreams. Imagination wanes, and visions grow shallow. And those who manage to protect their minds from such propaganda and attempt to stay aware of their own thoughts will be marginalised and become outsiders.
The loneliness began with the experiences of my early dreams, and reached its climax at the time I was working on the unconscious. If a man knows more than others, he becomes lonely. But loneliness is not necessarily inimical to companionship, for no one is more sensitive to companionship than the lonely man, and companionship thrives only when each individual remembers his individuality and does not identify himself with others. ~Carl Jung, MDR, Pages 355-356
In this video, the narrator references Carlo M. Cipolla‘s ideas on stupidity and on people deemed stupid. This seems to serve as an overall summary.
“Stupidity is an indiscriminate privilege of all human groups and is uniformly distributed according to a constant proportion.” And, “non-stupid individuals underestimate the potential for damage by stupid people and fail to recognise the cost of dealing with them.” ~Carlo M. Cipolla
“The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits”!! ~Albert Einstein
I must admit that I am at least pleased to be here, among such wonderful friends, who give me hope for a better future for humanity! Take care and stay vigilant.🙏✌️
I had a dream a few weeks ago, and surprisingly, I still remember it clearly. Usually, I forget my dreams the moment I wake up, but this one is vividly etched in my mind. In the dream, a bird flew elegantly through my room. She looked like a hummingbird, but much larger. She stared at me as she was facing the window. I suspected that I knew her well.
That is what I kept in my mind and can recall. I used to be better at it earlier; I think I am lacking patience now!
She gazed at me for a while before flying away; I don’t know where, but somehow she disappeared right before my eyes.
It reminded me of a dream Dr Jung once described. However, his bird was transformed into a child and could speak; mine did not, but I believed she was wise and knew many things.
Carl Jung’s dream of a white bird transforming into a girl, often a dove or gull, was a key vision from his Black Book. It signalled his break with Freud, marked his dive into deep psychological work, and symbolised the soul’s link to the spirit world, spiritual change, and the union of opposites within the Self. Featured in The Red Book, the dream showed birds as messengers of the soul, bridging conscious and unconscious, representing freedom, wisdom, and the’ higher self”.
I would now like to reiterate his dream, which I presented in the first part, because it is remarkable.
I dreamt at that time (it was shortly after Christmas 1912) that I was sitting with my children in a marvellous and richly furnished castle apartment – an open columned hall – we were seated at a round table, whose top was a marvellous dark green stone. Suddenly, a gull or a dove flew in and sprang lightly onto the table. I admonished the children to be quiet so they would not scare away the beautiful white bird. Suddenly, this bird turned into an eight-year-old blond child and ran around, playing with my children in the marvellous columned colonnades. Then, the child suddenly turned into the gull or dove. She said the following to me: “Only in the first hour of the night can I become human while the male dove is busy with the twelve dead.” With these words, the bird flew away, and I awoke. (Black Book 2, pp. 17-18)
Key Elements of Jung’s Bird Dream: The White Bird: Symbolises the soul, spirit, or divine feminine (Anima), depicted as a dove or gull. Transformation: The bird turning into an eight-year-old blond girl playing with his children represents the soul’s embodiment and interaction with earthly life. The Message: “Only in the first hours of the night can I transform myself into a human being, while the male Dove is busy with the twelve dead” highlights the unconscious’s link to the spiritual realm and the soul’s hidden work. Context: This dream from around 1912 helped Jung realise the collective unconscious archetypes and influenced his relationship with Toni Wolff. Broader Jungian Bird Symbols: Archetypal Connection: Birds link earthly and spiritual realms, symbolising transcendence, consciousness, and freedom. The Self: Birds often symbolise the Self, representing wholeness and inner guidance. Individuation: Birds symbolise Jung’s concept of individuation—integrating archetypes to achieve wholeness. Language of Birds: In dreams, birds speak a symbolic language that reveals hidden meanings and psychic realities.
Jung’s bird dream was a profound encounter with his own unconscious, initiating his personal myth-making and laying the groundwork for his analytical psychology.
I know that one day, if I am still alive, I will continue this never-ending story, though there is another “never-ending story” in which I am fully involved! Enjoy your peaceful lives. ✌💕🥰
This is my final post of the year, and I reflected on the joy of carrying music into the new year; may it be a year filled with peace, love, and music.
Music, a universal language, has played a crucial role in human civilisation, shaping emotions, cultures, and societies for centuries. It can evoke feelings and memories, reduce stress, and uplift mood, supporting mental well-being. Music influences cultures, brings communities together, and promotes social cohesion through events like ceremonies, concerts, and festivals. It connects generations, displays creativity, and allows us to express ourselves and build connections. Moreover, music is a significant educational resource, transmitting stories and messages across generations via lyrics and melodies. National anthems, protest songs, and lullabies inspire, motivate, and offer comfort to people from all backgrounds. Overall, music’s significance extends beyond entertainment; it fosters emotional health, strengthens bonds, and enriches cultural traditions. It remains a vital aspect of the human experience, deserving of recognition and preservation.
Rainy Blues, Painting by Michael Cheval. 2024
We all, more or less, consciously or unconsciously, listen to music every day. Since the songs are created by humans rather than artificial means, they primarily affect our mood. I grew up surrounded by music because my mother loved it. My older brother, Soroosh, who brought home many LPs and singles, taught Al and me numerous songs, bands, and songwriters.
I don’t know about you, but I prefer listening to music on recorders or vinyl in my home rather than in a concert hall. You know, in this way, I can immerse myself more deeply in each note or sound and feel the composer’s emotions. It reminds me of a film I saw many years ago: Luchino Visconti’s Conversation Piece (Italian: Gruppo di famiglia in un interno),starring Burt Lancaster and Helmut Berger, etc. In which Professor (Burt Lancaster) says the same to Konrad (Helmut Berger).
However, I didn’t come across that part!😁😅
I came across these illustrations of classical music, created with modern techniques or AI, to show how melodies express emotion. I found them quite fascinating.
And here’s a surprising twist: artificial intelligence shows it understands art far better than humans!
I hope you enjoy them! Wishing you, wherever you are, a wonderful Silvester Eve and a joyful start to the New Year, filled with peace and love. Take good care! 💖🌟🥰🥂
Last night I begged the Wise One to tell me the secret of the world. Gently, gently, he whispered, “Be quiet, the secret cannot be spoken, It is wrapped in silence.”
Rumi
I wonder if any of you, my dear friends, have noticed how this hurried pace of life is affecting us globally, with people rushing unconsciously, often unaware of their surroundings or the noise around them. It seems time is passing faster than it used to, and this perception isn’t related to age, contrary to some beliefs. In both modern and traditional contexts, we often overlook an essential aspect: silence. I particularly notice this when I step into the forest, pause, and listen quietly.
Silence holds significant value that is often overlooked in our noisy world. It creates a space for reflection, helping us process our thoughts and emotions without external distractions. During quiet moments, creativity can flourish, fostering deeper thinking and the development of new ideas. Additionally, silence can foster a sense of peace and calm. In a hectic environment, pausing to embrace silence can refresh the mind and spirit, ease stress, and sharpen decision-making. In conversations, silence can be powerful, as listening is a sign of intelligence. It enables thoughtful responses and promotes meaningful dialogue. By embracing silence, we can enhance our listening skills and better understand others. Ultimately, silence’s value is in its ability to connect us with ourselves and others, encouraging introspection and stronger relationships. Whether through meditation, nature, or solitude, embracing silence can enrich our lives in many ways.
After sharing a quote from Rumi, I would like to offer a poem by Pablo Neruda. I hope you enjoy them and might relish a moment of silence to cherish.
Keeping Quiet By Pablo Neruda
Trans. Alastair Reid
Now we will count to twelve And we will all keep still for once on the face of the earth, let’s not speak in any language; let’s stop for a second, and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines; We would all be together in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea would not harm whales and the man gathering salt would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare for green wars, wars with gas, wars with fire, victories with no survivors, would put on clean clothes and walk about with their brothers in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused with total inactivity. Life is what it is about. I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death. Perhaps the earth can teach us, as when everything seems dead and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve. And you keep quiet, and I will go.
Title image: Dreamscapes and nightmares by the artist R.S. Connett.
Recently, I’ve been overwhelmed by memories and dreams that take me back to the past, recalling the unforgettable times when Al and I faced our ups and downs and challenging moments.
I avoid saying things like “happy heavenly birthday” because birthdays are truly earthly, not heavenly! In heaven, every day might be a birthday! And I believe it’s simply a traditional custom to use these anniversaries as reminders. However, I remember Al daily and in everything I do, and I can’t help but think of him and his lessons.
One of these memories is our arrival in Germany after fleeing Iran, and this time, it feels somehow significant because it marked the fortieth anniversary. We arrived at Düsseldorf airport in the evening on October 19th.
Although we had a close friend in the city, we didn’t want to trouble him. We considered renting a hotel room, but it was too costly. An airport staff member overheard us and suggested, “Why not sleep on a couch at the airport for the night?” We appreciated the kind idea, and even if it wasn’t as comfortable as a hotel, it was free!
Before we carried out that experiment, we took a walk through the large airport. As I clearly remember, in the department where packages are received, two older women were trying to manoeuvre their luggage onto a trolley, although the suitcases seemed too heavy for them. Al reacted quickly and helped them load the items onto the trolley. One of the women, thankfully, took some coins from her purse and offered them to Al, but he refused immediately and turned away. They were quite surprised, and I later learned that such acts are common in Germany, although Al felt a bit offended. Honestly, that money could have been useful to us, but Al was very proud, and it didn’t suit his class!
Anyway, that was a remarkable memory of that period, and I thought I would share it here, on his seventy-third earthly birthday. Yes, as I might repeat, every day is a birthday in heaven, as well as Christmas!
I am back for a while from my holiday trip, although I am not fully recovered from a cold I caught a week ago, which I am still fighting to get rid of (it seems my immune system has been damaged after that problem earlier this year!). I didn’t plan to make a post today, but when I came across an article about the relationship between Poe and Melville, which I didn’t know about, I thought I would share it with you. Indeed, I should mention that I once published an article on Allan Poe; here it is!
As a new New Yorker, I once travelled across three boroughs to Woodlawn Cemetery to visit Herman Melville’s grave. I didn’t worship him as a hero but as a friend. Through the words of Professor Angela O’Donnell, who says that reading great writers is like having a conversation with them and fosters intimacy, I promised to visit often. Still, I was distracted by city life and never went back. However, a friend of another 19th-century American author never missed a visit. The Baltimore Sun reports that, for decades, an anonymous “Poe Toaster” left three roses and a bottle of cognac at Edgar Allan Poe’s grave every January 19th. His mystery remains unsolved, as does Poe’s own death.
On October 7, 1849, the literary community remembered Edgar Allan Poe, a master of the macabre whose death remains shrouded in mystery. Although his anniversary has passed, his short, tragic life and death remain deeply saddening. He was found delirious on Baltimore’s streets, and the exact cause of his death remains unclear, speculated to be linked to alcoholism, rabies, or other health issues.
In the days leading up to his death, Poe grappled with personal turmoil and bouts of depression, reflecting the dark themes prevalent in his writing. His life mirrored the tragedies he explored—loss, madness, and mortality.
As we remember Poe, we not only honour his legacy as a pioneering voice in Gothic literature but also reflect on the profound connections between art and the struggles of existence, inviting us to confront the deeper aspects of the human condition he so eloquently captured.
The relationship between Edgar Allan Poe and Herman Melville is a compelling exploration of two iconic figures in American literature, whose works have shaped literary history. Both authors are monumental, yet their life paths and artistic styles diverged significantly, revealing profound themes of existentialism and the complexities of the human experience.
Edgar Allan Poe, born in 1809 in Boston, faced a tumultuous early life marked by personal tragedies. Orphaned as a child, he experienced the pain of loss that profoundly influenced his writing. His struggles with poverty and alcoholism fueled the dark themes in his work. Masterfully crafted tales such as “The Raven,” “The Tell-Tale Heart,” and “The Fall of the House of Usher” explore death, madness, and despair, establishing Poe as a master of horror and Gothic literature.
In contrast, Herman Melville, born in 1819 in New York City, enjoyed a more privileged upbringing that was disrupted by his father’s early death. This formative loss set him on a path of adventure at sea, which culminated in his magnum opus, “Moby-Dick.” Melville’s works engage with grand themes of nature and humanity, showcasing a narrative style that embodies the complexities of existence and human ambition.
Despite their differences, Melville and Poe respected each other’s literary talents. Poe’s sharp critiques of Melville’s early works, such as “Typee,” acknowledged Melville’s gift while highlighting differences in their narrative styles. Poe favoured compact storytelling, while Melville embraced sprawling narratives laden with existential questions.
Both writers engaged with themes of death and isolation, particularly evident in Melville’s Captain Ahab, who mirrors the psychological depths of Poe’s characters. Their respective narratives challenge audiences to confront profound aspects of the human condition. Timing also affected their careers; though Poe achieved fame earlier, Melville’s “Moby-Dick” was initially overlooked, though it would eventually be recognised as a key literary work.
Ultimately, the legacies of both authors flourished posthumously, with Poe celebrated for his innovative contributions to literature and Melville emerging as a foundational figure. This interplay between the two writers encourages contemporary readers to explore the connections that define their works.
In conclusion, the relationship between Poe and Melville offers a striking study of contrasting yet complementary voices in American literature. Their distinct views on existential despair and the human experience create a rich tapestry that continues to inspire and intrigue, leaving a lasting impact on generations of writers and readers alike.
“We need a force not to start conflicts but to protect our nation and freedom. Therefore, making military service more attractive could draw more young people”. Said German Bundeskanzler Friedrich März a few days ago. I wonder how and with what we can make being a soldier attractive. A soldier’s role involves killing; how can we make that aspect attractive?
I remember the 1960s and 1970s, during the Cold War and Vietnam War, when crowds gathered to protest against conflicts and advocate for peace. Over time, Western governments began to prioritise peace more and engaged in disarmament talks, seeking peaceful coexistence. Yet today, they focus on strengthening their military to defend peace and freedom!
What’s happening? Isn’t there enough war worldwide? Is Germany yearning for the glorious days of the 1930s? The facts appear this way!
However, this has always occurred whenever politicians become oblivious to the horrific machinery of war. Therefore, it might be meaningful to consider two of Jung’s dreams from before WWI, as excerpted from his autobiography. “Memories, Dreams, Reflections” describes Carl Jung’s dreams from 1913 to 1914. With thanks to Lewis Lafontaine. 🙏
In October [1913], while I was alone on a journey, I was suddenly seized by an overpowering vision: I saw a monstrous flood covering all the northern and low-lying lands between the North Sea and the Alps. When it came to Switzerland, I saw that the mountains grew higher and higher to protect our country. I realised that a frightful catastrophe was in progress. I saw the mighty yellow waves, the floating rubble of civilisation, and the drowned bodies of uncounted thousands. Then the whole sea turned to blood. This vision lasted about one hour. I was perplexed and nauseated, and ashamed of my weakness.
Thunder is no longer the voice of a god, nor is lightning his avenging missile. No river contains a spirit, no tree makes a man’s life, no snake is the embodiment of wisdom, and no mountain still harbours a great demon. Neither do things speak to him nor can he speak to things, like stones, springs, plants and animals.” ~ Carl Jung, CW 18, Para 585
Two weeks passed; then the vision recurred, under the same conditions, even more vividly than before, and the blood was more emphasised. An inner voice spoke. “Look at it well; it is wholly real, and it will be so. You cannot doubt it.” That winter, someone asked me what I thought were the political prospects of the world in the near future. I replied that I had no thoughts on the matter, but that I saw rivers of blood. I asked myself whether these visions pointed to a revolution, but I could not really imagine anything of the sort. And so I concluded that they had to do with me myself, and decided that a psychosis menaced me. The idea of war did not occur to me at all. Soon afterwards, in the spring and early summer of 1914, I had a thrice-repeated dream that in the middle of summer an Arctic cold wave descended and froze the land to ice. I saw, for example, the entire region of Lorraine and its canals frozen, and the whole area totally deserted by human beings. All living green things were killed by frost. This dream came in April and May, and for the last time in June 1914. In the third dream, frightful cold had again descended from out of the cosmos. This dream, however, had an unexpected end. There stood a leaf-bearing tree, but without fruit (my tree of life, I thought), whose leaves had been transformed by the effects of the frost into sweet grapes full of healing juices. I plucked the grapes and gave them to a large, waiting crowd…
On August 1, World War I broke out!
Now, let’s continue with the next section, following (1, 2), about Dr Jung’s dreams and examining how a forecaster can predict potential human self-destructive plans. As mentioned in Part Two, Jung described hearing a strange woman’s voice in his mind and tried to analyse it.
He believed the voice was “the soul in the primitive sense,” known as the anima, and stated that he employed his analysis to write letters to his anima, experiencing it as both a ghost and a woman. He remembered this voice as that of a Dutch patient from 1912 to 1918, who convinced a colleague that he was a misunderstood artist. The woman had thought the unconscious was art, but Jung had maintained it was a natural phenomenon. The woman was likely Maria Moltzer, and the psychiatrist was Jung’s friend Franz Riklin, who shifted from analysis to painting, studying Augusto Giacometti in 1913. Riklin’s art was semi-figurative and abstract, with a notable 1915/6 work, Verkündigung, in Zürich, donated by Moltzer in 1945. Giacometti found Riklin’s psychological insights exciting, calling him a modern magician.
The November entries in Black Book 2 depict Jung’s return to his soul. He recalled dreams that led him to his scientific career and recent dreams bringing him back to his soul. In 1925, he noted his first writing phase ended in November: ” Not knowing what would come next, I thought perhaps more introspection was needed… I devised such a boring method by fantasising that I was digging a hole, and by accepting this fantasy as perfectly real. ” This experiment occurred on December 12, 1913 (See Liber Primus, chapter 5, p. 147).
To be continued …………
Thank you for reading! I don’t want to spoil your mood, but sometimes thinking more deeply can help us and prepare us for the worst. While I am on my way to spend the holidays, please note that responses to comments, if any, may be delayed.🙏💖
Illustration art at the top: Dali-Inspired Dreamscape
The dynamic principle of fantasy is play, a characteristic also of the child, and as such, it appears inconsistent with the principle of serious work. But without this playing with fantasy, no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of imagination is incalculable. It is, therefore, short-sighted to treat fantasy, on account of its risky or unacceptable nature, as a thing of little worth. ~Carl Jung; Psychological Types Ch. 1; Page 82. Fantasy is the creative function—the living form is a result of fantasy. Fantasy is a pre-stage of the symbol, but it is an essential characteristic of the symbol that it is not mere fantasy. ~Carl Jung, 1925 Seminar, Page 11 Source: Carl Jung Depth Psychology
Continuing from the first part of my blog, I recall the days when Al and I created our own worlds, feeling utterly disconnected from the outside world. My childhood was filled with dreams and wishes, driven by my imagination and a touch of fantasy. Perhaps it was my name that ignited my desire to make my wishes come true, with a hint of magic.
On the other hand, I didn’t want to be treated like a child. I don’t know what the issue was; maybe it was because I’d been isolated at that age. I mean, there we were, a group of five boys, Al and me, including three cousins, all nearly the same age. One of the cousins, Ham, who was around Al’s age, about two years older than me, and the other two were roughly two years younger than me, and I was stuck in the middle.
Dream Catcher by Michael Cheval
As I remember, one evening in Mashhad, when we were visiting our aunt, we were playing hide and seek — a game like ‘catch me if you can find me!’ I was so engrossed in the game that I didn’t notice Al and Ham were missing. At first, when I caught my breath from running around to find a hiding spot, I thought, ‘What’s going on with me?’ and scolded myself for acting like a child. But then I got angry when I found out Al and Ham weren’t playing with us – they were off to see a movie, and I wanted to be there with them so badly! In the evening, when we gathered again, Al and Ham began by making a reference and a joke about the movie, which I remember was called Madame. This made me feel jealous and sad. It was so obvious that my mother recognised it and tried to comfort me, but to me, her effort was like giving milk to a crying infant! So I felt even more alone and forsaken.
In Ann Yeoman’s book, we can read: …In terms of personality traits, a strong emotional attachment to what we may call the mother-realm manifests on the one hand in a certain preciousness, a sense of specialness and difference, a fictional example of which we see in James Joice’s young hero Stephen, who is always “on the fringe,” a little apart from his fellows, an isolate. On the other hand, when out of the province of the mother and, metaphorically, the reach of the mother’s watchful eye, the mother’s son experiences an incapacity to stand on his own and embrace the risks, challenges and unpredictable fullness of life, or realise the courage “to live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life,”> to cite Joice once again>(A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Amn, p. 172). As a result, the puer remains dissociated from his feelings. In order to shield himself unconsciously from suffering, he protects himself from the possibility of abandonment, rejection and disappointment with an array of defences which prevent him from fully committing himself to life in the first place. Jung describes the neurosis of such a “mother’s boy” in terms of a “secret conspiracy between mother and so…. [in which] each helps the other to betray life” He continues:
Where does the guilt lie? With the mother, or with the son? Probably with both. The unsatisfied longing of the son for life and the world ought to be taken seriously. There is in him a desire to touch reality, to embrace the earth and fructify the field of the world. But he makes no more than a series of fitful starts, for his initiative as well as his staying power are crippled by the secret memory that the world and happiness may be had as a gift from the mother. The fragment of the world which he, like every man, must encounter again and again is never quite the right one, since it does not fall into his lap, does not meet him halfway, but remains resistant, has to be conquered, and submits only to force. It makes demands on the masculinity of a man, on his ardour, above all on his courage and resolution when it comes to throwing his whole being into the scales. For this, he would need a faithless Eros, one capable of forgetting his mother and undergoing the pain of relinquishing the first love of his life. ~Carl Jung, The Syzygy, Anima & Animus, Aion, CW 9ii, par. 20-21
I may laugh at that event now, but as I recall every detail, it seems it left a particular impression on me. I know I wanted to be noticed and taken seriously. However, my mother, as she always had, saw me as her lost daughter. That’s why, when I finally found my solitude, it was mostly when I woke early in the morning in my bed and looked out of the window into the street, where the summer breeze made the leaves of the poplar tree dance. I immersed myself in my fantasy world and let my imagination run freely.
lampmagician 
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