Memories, Dream, Reflection by Carl Jung and Anne Jaffe took me a good portion of the summer to read from cover to cover. This auto/biography has provided a great deal of meaning and symbolic significance to my personal perspective. I interacted with the text, reading and writing with a pen and highlighter handy; below are a few of many sentences extracted from the book that speak volumes in the space of a few sentences.
As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being.
“Bidden or not bidden, God is present.” Carl Jung, the eminent psychologist, had this quote carved over the front door of his Zurich home, as well as on his tombstone. It is an English translation of the Latin “Vocatus Atque Non Vocatus Deus Aderit”, a quotation he came across when studying Erasmus. The words are said to originate from the reply given by Delphic Oracle to the Spartans when they were planning a war against Athens: “Yes, the Gods will be present, but in what form and to what purpose?”
Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away an ephemeral apparition.
When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.
When people say I am wise, or a sage, I cannot accept it. A man once dipped a hateful of water from a stream. What did that amount to? I am not that stream.
I am at the stream, but I do nothing. Other people are at the same stream, but most of them find they have to do something with it. I do nothing. I never think that I am the one who must see to it that cherries grow on stalks. I stand and behold, admiring what nature can do.
There is a fine old story about a student who came to a rabbi and said, “In the olden days there were men who saw the face of God. Why don’t they any more?” The rabbi replied, “Because nowadays no one can stoop so low”.
One must stoop a little in order to fetch water from the stream.
Today, my consciousness began before I awoke. What strange dreams! I can recall a few dreams, but the last of the intermittent scenes strikes me as most peculiar. I was at a hotel conference, staring at a sign that advertised the next convention. This sign neither stated the purpose nor the discourse of the convention, only the location. I gained awareness that I was dreaming, and focused in on the sign. The sign spelled its message in perfect English, but somehow I knew the letters were scrambled. Within the string of cities was a hidden word, misspelled but purposefully so so it would remain hidden to viewers. At a glance the sign stated: Next Convention: Olympia & Vancouver.
My laser-like vision pulled the letters further apart, and I watched the hidden word shake and break free from its shackles, vibrating and thus, I imagine, simmering itself an ember red font. Eventually, the sign read: Next Convention: Olympia & Vanc[oracle]ver. For what felt like ten minutes, I tried to untangle the word oracle, and the letters, obedient as they are, flipped and switched until the sign read: Next Convention: Olympia & Vanc[oregon]uver.
Lightning struck and seized me from sleep. I sat upright erect, awake as day, and my right hand , knowing where it was going, bolted to press against my temporal lobe. With my hand fused to a point behind my right ear. My lips followed the lead of my hand, knowing what they wanted to say: “Temporal lobe seizure.”
Awake, intrigued, and hoping to catch the tail end of sun rise, I got up and began to research temporal lobe seizures. Synchronicity propelled me in this intuitive path, for the relevancy of all that I read tied into recent events and interests of mine. The spot I clutched is mapped in the following image, labeled ‘temporal lobe.’ This spot is what neuroscience has deemed ‘the God spot’, and such simple seizures are not all that uncommon. In fact, Lewis Carol, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and Edgar Allen Poe all experienced such seizures. It just so happens that I have been reading Poe and watched a documentary (which didn’t mention his seizures) on Poe a few days ago, and Dostoevsky has provided me with a wealth of meaningful philosophic perspectives in his works, since I discovered his works a few months ago.
Lucid. Gradually, Lucid.
The dream began through my eyes in first person narrative and I died.
Dying and reawakening was confusing because when I came back to (from a coma in the hospital), I remembered being dead and through trying to reconnect and capture the memory of my death, I began to a crew all meta-cognitive functions while still in my dream. My perspective shifted from first person to their person, where I saw my body, had seamless access to the thought inside that body that were simultaneously flowing in my mind, but I was a soul and had no finger to point at lack of body. I relived the scene of my death. I was lucid and I knew it.
The dream felt like a thousand years long. I chose to relive the scene of my death and the aftermath of the hospital and then revisit the scene of my death again to face my fears of going back.
The dream took me to the ocean. There was a log floating in the middle of the ocean where we (self, brother, and people who I have and do care about, past) were swimming and splashing and playing. People started to leap on top of the floating log and shuffle across, jumping before it vanished into the vanishing horizon’s drop off. I was alive and loving the admiration of wide sparkling eyes and up turned heads and the balance, speed, fearlessness and courage I challenged the task of the log with. Glowing, the admiration made me feel capable and I believed in my ability to soar. I went fast and fast across the lumber, saw there was an end to the horizon and while all the voices were shouting cautionary warning at me, I leapt and everything faded to black. Eternity. I vanished. I dissolved, I absolved, I dissipated, Everything I was and Nowhere and in no time I was particles drifting and humming on a melody with the ocean mist blowing where I desired, I was peaceful and peace.
I awoke in my drea in a hospital bed. My brother mom and dad were around me and I was confused and tired and in pain and like the IV attached to my arm, I gained memory slowly like dripping nutrients. They said I had been out for a long time and had gotten a concussion jumping over the edge of the oceans horizon. I said that’s not what happened, I had died and came back and jumped into the darkness and I floated. We returned to the scene of the incident, and I got back in the water. At this point I knew that I was dreaming and I relived the memory of my death (the dream repeated with meta-cognitive function and perspective). I was lucid and chose to stay in the scene and investigate its depth and beauty from all angles. I was in the ocean, just having awaken from a coma, and thought about why I came back here if I could go anywhere. I thought about the admiration for me courage that the others gave to me. I beamed. I loved that feeling, again. I relived it, again. I thought about the feeling of challenging borders and limits and the adventure f fearlessness against the body. I thrived and glowed. I was back for that, again. Is this ego Is this alive? whatever it was, I love that feeling, and I will chase it until the day I die. In the ocean again it was more difficult to swim as my limbs were weak. I called out for help and attention and there was a system of friend to support me and bring me to a boey. One person checked my legs to see if they were tired from treading water. They were not. I had reaffirmed my ability to continue on. I reached the horizon again and looked at it from al angels. My brother was there with me, beside me, the entire time. This time I saw that jumping over the edge may kill my body but I would not die. I exhaled salty ocean air and inhaled from sunshine. I awoke.
Edit: Walking home in the rain today. A red crack of a black light burst and ripped through the scene of for a millisecond, the illusion of the world, gray, bleak, wetness and slabs of cement sided with forrest and flowers, drained and disappeared. I look around me for passing cars or some easy explanation for the glitch. Answer sounded in rolling thunder about ten seconds after I begged the curious question. Like a jolt, forgotten fragments of the above dream revived their vision and reclaimed life from the hallows of buried memory. They go as follow: there were three distinct bodies of water in my dream. A) a swimming pool, where a girl I casually know shared her swim teams challenge, how she had to tread water for four hours after the race in order to be an elite racer on her swim team. B) the aquatics center I played in as a kid, with huge slides and pseudo-tidal waves and C) The Ocean, where my first attempt upon recording the dream narrative began.
A Synthesis of Research and Reading:
kheper-i kheper kheperu kheper-kuy m kheperu n Khepri kheper m sep tepy…
“[when] I became, the becoming became, I have become the becoming [the form] of Khepri who came into being on the First Time…
…when I became, the transformations became, all the metamorphoses coming to pass after I had become.”
-translated Lucy Lamy, Egyptian Mysteries, p.14
- In hieroglyphic writing kheperrepresents not only the sacred scarab “but also all the metamorphoses or transformations of which it is the symbol, as wll as the idea of becoming, in general. The word kheperthus means “to become” in all possible verbal forms, while Khepriis the entity embodied in the sun as it rises in the morning, when darkness becomes light.” Lucy Lamy, Egyptian Mysteries, p.14 (Art and Imagination series, Thames and Hudson, 1981)
When all is said and done, the final Synthesis for this particular universe in general (and for this website in particular) is one of love.
Unconditional, Unlimited, Universally-Connected Love.
Here we have a basic spiritual cosmology consisting of physical reality; intermediate or psychic reality; spiritual and Divine reality; and Absolute Reality or Godhead or Source. (see also the Three Tier Model, which is identical to the above except that it does not include Spirit/Infinite as a sperate hypostasis). As Professor Smith points out, each of these levels of reality can be studied separately:
“The marvels of the terrestrial plane are being unveiled at an astonishing rate by the physical sciences. The intermediate realm adds life and consciousness: biology helps to understand the former, and for light on the latter we turn to the durable findings of phenomenology, depth psychology, and parapsychology, as well as aspects of shamanism and folk religion. The theologies of the great traditions describe God’s knowable nature (the celestial plane) from a variety of cultural angles, and the literature of mysticism carries the mind as far as it can journey into God’s absolute and infinite depths” [ Beyond the Post-Modern Mind, p.45].
In this all-embracing gradational metaphysic, we have a way of looking at the world totally different to the conventional Materialistic or Dualistic stance. Borrowing a popular Theosophical term, I use the word “Esoteric” to indicate this alternative way of perceiving things.
The first recorded reference to a world egg occurs in an Egyptian papyrus of the New Kingdom Petosiris:
0 Egg of the water, source of the earth, product of the Eight, great in heaven and great, in the underworld, dweller in the thicket, chief of the Isle of the Lake of the Two Knives, I came forth with thee from the water; I came forth with thee from thy rest.
Egyptologists have not decided to whom this text refers. Probably it is Thoth, the god of the moon, who appeared in the form of an ibis, and who is described variously in different legends both as having hatched the world egg at Hermopolis, and as having emerged from the egg himself . Petosiris, the priest of Hermopolis, records that:
“Part of the Egg was buried in this place, and here were found all beings who came forth from the Egg.“
Various Egyptian deities are associated with the egg. An allusion to the Sun God Rah reads:
“0 Rah in his egg, who beams in his disk, rises above his horizon, shapes himself with his own metalmgT he sun itself is “The solar eye, an egg to which is given life among them.”
Elsewhere we find:
It was made against those of your retinue, on account of the wish of the spirits that are there, for not letting the breaths be inhaled except by the Great and August God who is in his egg. I come to thee and I am at thy service.
This ancient idea of a primeval egg which hatched the sun god occurs frequently; the sun myth took various forms in Egyptian thought. In one representation the sun is an egg, laid daily by the celestial goose Seb, the god of the earth. From this egg was born the Phoenix, symbol of the sun.12 Thus, in The Book of the Dead, the deceased says:
Hail, thou god Tem, grant unto me the sweet breath which dwelleth in thy nostrils. I am the Egg which is in the Great Cackler, and I watch and guard that mighty thing which hath come into being, wherewith the god Seb hath opened the earth.
Khnum, a god of creation, whose name signifies “The Moulder,” formed the world egg, as though from a lump of clay on his potter’s wheel. In ancient drawings we also find Ptah of Memphis seated on his throne. The Chandogya Upanishad describes the original act of creation as the breaking of an egg in two pieces : The Sun is Brahma-this is the teaching. A further explanation thereof (is as follows).
In the beginning this world was merely non-being. It was existent. It developed. It turned into an egg. It lay for the period of a year. It was split asunder. One of the two egg-shell parts became silver, one gold. That which was of silver is this earth. That which was of gold is the sky . . . Now what was born therefrom is yonder sun. When it was born shouts and hurrahs; all beings and all desires rose up toward it . . . He who, knowing it thus, reverences the sun ashrahma.
In Hindu mythology hirazyagmbha, the golden world egg, appears in a bewildering variety of forms, according to different traditions:
The restless, darting fish, at fall of evening,
Seeks where he may his refuge in the waters,
His nest the egg-born seeks, their stall the cattle;
Each in his place, the god divides the creatures.
These lines refer to the sun. The Rig Veda describes eight sky divinities. One of these, the Aditya Surya, was born from an egg: Eight sons there are of Aditi, Who from her body were produced. With seven she approached the gods. But the egg-born she cast away. Surya driving his chariot, drawn by red horses, across the sky each day represents the sun god, like Apollo in the Greek pantheon.
Again in the Rig Veda Prajapati, the original male, fertilizes the primeval waters, the original female, transforming them into the golden egg. Inside sits Brahma, the Golden Person, where he remains for a thousand years, floating in the waters of creation, his miraculous power shining through the seven shells of the egg, infusing it with a golden radiance. Within the egg with Brahma are the continents, oceans, mountains, planets, divisions of the universe, gods, demons, and humanity. According to the Lazus of Mana Brahma, the original substance, propagated himself:
He, having willed to produce various beings from his own divine substance, first with a thought created the waters, and placed in them a productive seed. The seed became an egg bright as gold, blazing like the luminary with a thousand beams; and in that egg he was born himself in the form of Brahma, the great forefather of all spirits . . . In that egg the great power sat inactive a whole year of the Creator, at the close of which, by his thought alone, he caused the egg to divide itself. And from its two divisions he framed the heaven above and the earth beneath. In the midst he placed the subtil ether, the eight regions, and the permanent receptacle of waters.
Aristophanes in The Birds writes:
There was Chaos at first, and Darkness, and Night,
And Tartarus vasty and dismal;
But the Earth was not there, nor the Sky, nor the Air,
Till at length in the bosom abysmal
Of Darkness an egg, from the whirlwind conceived,
Was laid by the sable plumed Night.
And out of-that egg, as the seasons revolved,
Sprang Love, the entrancing, the bright,
Love brilliant and bold with his pinions of gold,
Like a whirlwind, refulgent and sparkling.
The Neoplatonic hypostases in relation to other esoteric systems of thought:
Stitch. Pink. Seam. Prick.
Hole. Chrome. Harvest. Nourish. Cyclic. Elliptic. Spiral. Sound. Rise. Balance. Beam. Yellow. Up. Reveal. Rebel. Revel. Autumn. Change. Rain. Bridge. Build. Bricks. Cement. Source. Helium. Return. Loom. Fiber. Weave. Courage. Strength. Grow. Grains. Memory. Silent. Past. Before. Beyond. Sing. Dance. Old. Blue. Croon. Shift. Wheel. High. Duck. Revolve. Sow. Round. Deep. Slow. Lost. Blue. Truth. Honor. Awe. Hum. Explore. Temple. Quick. Sand. Pure. Clean. Stainless. Ring. Eye. One. Bell. Wind. Chime. Arise. Vibe. Ring. Hurricane. Curves. Gust. Vector. Dynamo. Breath. Family. Funeral. Infinity. Relax. Tenses. Divide. Slip. Sound. Memory. Crack. Gaps. Blur. Unite. Heal. Story. Inhale. Past. Exhale. Future. Breathe. Grain. Wind. Lost. Found. Present. Now: Stitch. Stance. Space. Appear.
Explanation: Will our Sun look like this one day? The Helix Nebula is the closest example of a planetary nebula created at the end of the life of a Sun-like star. The outer gasses of the star expelled into space appear from our vantage point as if we are looking down a helix. The remnant central stellar core, destined to become a white dwarf star, glows in light so energetic it causes the previously expelled gas to fluoresce. The Helix Nebula, given a technical designation of NGC 7293, lies about 650 light-years away towards the constellation of Aquarius and spans about 2.5 light-years. The above picture is a composite of newly released images from the ACS instrument on the Hubble Space Telescope and wide-angle images from the Mosaic Camera on the WIYN 0.9-m Telescope at Kitt Peak National Observatory. A close-up of the inner edge of the Helix Nebula shows complex gas knots of unknown origin.
Listening to a Joseph Campbell interview on my iPod, walking through campus, have to interact with these ideas somewhere, so my smile stays plastered and once again I return to this place in cyberspace for honesty:
God is not the source of the energy; it is the manifestation, the vehicle of the energy, discovered through the realization of wonder.
God is a thought. God is an idea. But it’s reference is to something that transcends all thinking.
There is an old story, the story of the spiritual quest, to find the inward thing which you basically are. All of the symbols in mythology refer to you. You are God in your deepest identity. You are one with the transcendent. The images of God are many. The masks of eternity both cover and reveal the face of glory. The masks of god signify the ultimate reality, myths are masks of god that signify what lies beyond the horizon.
Put eloquently in a Hindu scripture: truth is One; the sages speak of it by many names.
There is a dimension of the universe that is not available to our senses. participation in divinity is the moment of ‘ahha’ witnessing a beautiful sunset.
An excerpt from the mini-paper presentation I turned in today in my modern Russian art class. The prompt: where is here? where is there?
To understand the whereabouts of here and the whereabouts of there is a progressing definition, a circumference of past and/or present perspectives locating ‘here’ as my place inside of a past or future space and time. Here is the present, a moment perpetually eclipsing into the past. As soon as here is considered, here has slipped away and the moment is merely a memory of a past there or a there to be realized in the future.
Here is the shadow of a swinging door. The optical illusion of there is created by the horizontal horizon of binocular vision; although perception depicts the horizon as linear, beyond the horizon can never be realized in the present tense and place of here. What retinal vision obscures is the eternally eclipsing sphere, coiling into itself and expanding from a self-sustaining source.
The shadow of the swinging door swings into the future, but the means has no ends, the future is always there and when one arrives to a specific here that was once a there, there is once again beyond reach. The paradoxical nature of here as a present time in a present domain is that here can never be captured, and yet, we are trapped in the confines of here.
No human has the ability to hop-scotch outside of the box of here into a there before there has arrived. Escaping the bounds of time and space have provided domains that enable minds to shift vantage points in perceiving reality, and dreams, drugs, meditation, etc., have enabled minds to contemplate the wonder and whimsey of here and there: there is a reality that does not exist until it is here, and here can never be captured.
Hallucinations, delusions, psychosis and insanity are realms of heres and there’s bring up the issue of reinforcing bounds of here and there in mainstream society. What makes the alternative realities alternative at all are the lack of observation and validation from sensory organs outside of the imaginer’s own agreeing with the time-space domain existence of those here and there’s. The imagination is an all-powerful utility and resource humans are endowed with, and accessing the ‘crazy’ within, weather one choses to or not, often sparks revolutions and tectonic shifts in ideological paradigms for entire civilizations.
For the time being, my personal definitions for here and there are as follows: here is the thread seamlessly weaving the fibers of space and into an infinity, infinitely expanding and collapsing, opening the future of potential time-space localities of ‘there’ and bending out from past time-space localities of ‘there.’
Ultimate Power, veiled in mystery, unmask and phase in lunar and luminous out of the secrets and stars swept up into the cloaked night sky. Unaware & afflicted by aphasia, ignorant bliss has blistered throbs within like the alchemy of an ancient memory to me awareness: I know, indepedently of the life of I.
Ultimate power = open access to cognitive processes (thoughts, feelings, motivations and intentions behind behaviors) of a body outside of ones own. The knowing of true consciousness. The knowing of another’s knowledge of self. The knowing of ones own knowledge of self. Create or desecrate, ultimate power, ultimate knowledge of One Interconnected Network of One Interconnected Network of One (recursive, continue pattern infinitely).
Removing One Rule: Falling through the One Reflexive ExceptionStream of Consciousness Unravel~Unraveling God from Within
Benign lifestyle, malignant emptiness,
Synthetic buzzing, hiding somewhere inside away from
jibber-jabber static, jargon and lexicons, canonical flowing
of cliche liturgy and invested surface value, shiny lives
wrapped in plastic, impermeable save toxic transmission
where those who communicate carelessly put into the air
recycled pollution: pity, jealousy, vengeance, prejudice and exploitation.
One is Who I Am.
One is Where Am I?
One resides in calm clarity, stripped of defensive creature fear and desperation,
One haunts attics and basement and cemeteries, rising from ashes and dust,
the mortar sealing and obscuring boxes of boxed memories and sedimentary heirlooms.
One is Where I Am.
One For All.
Who is the only true constant,
mylination like mercury blurring of velocity and vectors,
distance in space and distance in time, and integrating interconnected network, threading existence into a self-fulfilling spinning consciousness ,
expanding and self-sustaining spherical ball of yarn, one.
All For One.
One Pregnancy, One Prototype?
One is everywhere at once and nowhere at all.
One is misunderstood, never hiding & rarely found like
marred treasure buried in the attic, oxymoron in a paradox,
neither counter-intuitive nor intuitive.
One Lost Looks to Find One and Soon Is One Found.
Believing is Seeing.
Memorabilia masked in dusted mothballs
stuffed in spaces below and spaces above everyday living.
Once upon an eye sore resurfaces to meet a new cast of family with wide open surprise: tears like change in time and space and surpass sore eyes wide shut,
hypervigilant yet never aware.
One Perpetual Pregnancy, One Birthing Life Cycles,
One Within One, One Within Each One.
Where Does One Begin and End?
One Shape and Form?
One Matter and Mass?
One Materializing Movement in One Direction?
Invisible One, Intangible One, Undefinable, Unclassified, One:
Formless Shape: too small to sense, too big to fathom;
Massless Matter: The effervescent relief of weight and evaopation of volume.
Moving Material In All Direction: Spiraling Ellipses of past, present and future,
tapestry of timeless space.
Infinite like figure eight, there is no escape:
One Begins Where One Ends.
One is revealed from above collapsed hallow bodies and concave bowls,
sounding ominous and who stirs synergy into vacuous air,.
One inclination of umbilical union between sentient and being
before the synaptic severing cut similarities into mosaic differences,
dead weight: dendrite branches decay as material without crystal consciousness.
Dead like fragile , fallen leaves crunching under careless click clack crushing heels.
One presence can never be compared through sensory observation,
Omnipresence: eternal existence within and between one feeling.
One lovely, lovely feeling.
ORIGIN late Middle English : from Italian fato or Old French fat or (later) from their source, Latin fatum ‘that which has been spoken,’ from fari ‘speak.’
Fate is founded in that which has been spoken. Wrap the mind around fate, an ambiguous tomorrow, ambiguous today but to a certain degree, prophecies are fulfilled from present prescriptions. My fate, moment by moment, day by day is scribed as I sing a song of self, meditating upon ideas sometimes in silence and sometimes aloud, and my fate is predetermined by the song and dance of today towards the summation of tomorrow.
Just a four letter word, fate: fluent eloquence, she speaks life.