You sit and lean against the wall, and look at the beautiful, riddle-some totality.
The Summa lies before you like a book, and an unspeakable greed seizes you to devour it.
Consequently you lean back and stiffen and sit for a long time.
You are completely incapable of grasping it.
Here and there a light flickers, here and there a fruit falls from high trees which you can grasp, here and there your foot strikes gold.
But what is it, if you compare it with the totality, which lies spread out tangibly close to you?
You stretch out your hand, but it remains hanging in invisible webs.
You want to see it exactly as it is but something cloudy and opaque pushes itself exactly in between.
You would like to tear a piece out of it; it is smooth and impenetrable like polished steel.
So you sink back against the wall, and when you have crawled through all the glowing hot crucibles of the Hell of doubt, you sit once more and lean back, and look
at the wonder of the Summa that lies spread out before you.
Here and there a light flickers, here and there a fruit falls.
For you it is all too little.
But you begin to be satisfied with yourself, and you pay no attention to the years passing away.
What are years?
What is hurrying time to him that sits under a tree?
Your time passes like a breath of air and you wait for the next light, the next fruit. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 270.