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2 II 1928
Jung. Speak to me, soul, is there something that I should know?
S. Naturally there is something. Should I tell you? How can I? How should I know what you don’t know?
I. I recognize this. Make no further ado.
S. I make no further ado, but you must make a detour!
Show me the detour.
S. Come and let yourself be led. I lead you to the abyss. Do you see the black depths and beyond there?
I. Beyond black rocks that plunge abruptly into the abyss, I see white buildings. Too far to see clearly.
S. Look keenly, make an effort.
I. I see an elongated building, with a white cupola behind it. What is it?
S. look further.
I. I see a rushing river in the depths-boulders, a narrow path winds along.
People wander there. A train of people in long, bright robes. An old man leads it. A funeral procession?
I see no bier. They draw downstream, wending their way turning between blocks, on the right side of the river. What do they do?
From the left a small gorge opens, there I see an upward leading path. They go up there- zigzag-slowly rising often stationary.
Above, the path goes straight, curving around to the end of the gorge and leading to the white house. They go there.
The elongated house has many windows-an entrance on the narrow left side. There are men and women.
The old one knocks on the door which is of dark brown wood with his stick-it opens.
They step in. Inside there is a long white vaulted corridor with a red carpet. They all go barefoot.
The passage has ends, something dark there. Smaller doors.
A door to the left. A new, but narrow passage with a yellow floor, perpendicular to the left. Some high side doors.
Below curved arches in the domed building. Circular portico, entirely of polished bluish marble. Floor of white marble.
An octagonal basin with blue water in the middle, directly below the opening of the dome. Water in wave motions for unknown reasons.
No images, no inscriptions- yet opposite below the colonnade, sitting, a life size statue of a middle-aged man-ancient?
Looks like a Roman. The train of people move in circles around the basin-singing-what do they sing? “Praise the water”?
Do I hear right? “A mirror of heaven,” they greet the water-bow before it.
They kneel on the edge and drink water, directly with their mouths, like animals. No one touches it with their hands.
Then they sit on the ground around the water basin and eat bread, passing it along to the right.
The old man alone stands, leaning on a long staff.
He stands in front of the statue, looking at it pensively with a propped chin-a silent dialogue- while the people silently eat in the greatest quiet. Now the old man waves with his staff. The women go to his left, the men to the right.
All, with the exception of the old man, throw themselves on their knees facing the pool, their brows to the ground.
Now the old man turns and goes to the water and touches it three times with the staff.
Then he kneels down and lays his brow on the edge of the pool.
At this moment a bell tolls, a large one it seems-all rise and press their hands together.
The expression on their faces is serious and sincere.
(The robes are, as I can now see, antique. The men wear Gallic shorts and short Gallic mantles.)
The people now gather together in groups in the colonnade, no word is spoken.
The old man stands at the water, considering it as he previously considered the statue.
I see all of this only mentally, since I am beyond m the gorge at a great distance. What does this vision mean, my soul?
S. Do you recognize the old man?
I. Yes, it is Philemon.
S. The Roman is Antonius Pius, the Caesar.
I. This is incredible. What should I make of this?
S. Undoubtedly a religious service.
I. But where? What country? What religion?
S. Your land, your religion, water instead of wine, bread instead of flesh, silence instead of speech.
I. But what of Caesar?
S. look again.
I. The old man still standing at the water, sunk in deep contemplation of the sky blue of the water.
Now he opens his arms and everyone gathers, standing in a circle around the pool. What happened?
They hold each other by the shoulder. The space becomes dark and the stars shine in the water.
They sing “house of the water”-“primordial home of the stars.” The water is calm like am mirror and each sees his face in it.
It will become light again, as if a dark cloud had moved away.
There is a small altar in front of Caesar, wood lies on this, which the old man** sets alight. He contemplates the flames.
The people had gone back under the colonnades- it becomes dark again.
One sees only the fire and the dazzlingly illumined form of the old man.
Someone brings a silver pitcher with wine with which the old man extinguishes the fire-it becomes light again-someone brings a piece
of raw flesh on a silver platter.
The old man takes the platter and goes to the exit, everyone follows him. A few dogs wait outside, he throws the flesh to them.
The old man waves to his people and suddenly disappears, only his rod remains and falls to the ground.
One of the men takes it and leads the way to the deep valley. It is getting dark and the train disappears in the darkness.
One sees only the white buildings still lit red in the evening light.
I. What’s with the fire-a sacrifice to Caesar? Have we fallen back into antiquity?
S. Not at all-yet the meaning is dark-what does the Cult of Caesar mean by the way?
The wine was not an offering, but Philemon doused it with wine instead of water and gave the meat to the dogs.
He didn’t think of Caesar, but of the fire.
I. I don’t understand.
S. I can’t explain it, but I will wait and attend to whether something further happens.
In spring 1932 Hans Schmid died following an accident. (seep. 206) ~The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 243-246
