Black Books

  1. VII. 18. III

Jung: If my work is to succeed and if everything is to reach its fulfilment, I must always submit myself first to you, my soul, so that you draw me toward that place where the God lives. I am overly caught up in the impression of the solar world, therefore you must draw me to the other side, which you see.

Therefore tell me what you are looking at.

Soul. I see Salome at your side, freed from the human symbol.

I. What does she want?

S. She stands questioning or begging- I don’t know. Tell me, Salome, why are you standing there and what are you waiting for?

Salome. I am still not detached from this man, since he continues to force a question on me-or cast a spell-I never have questions or doubts-so he has bewitched me!

I suspect Philemon’s cunning behind this. Someone release me.

S. What question did he cast on you?

Sal. The question of my mystery. I have no mystery-pleasure and the sensation of pleasure-what’s that for a mystery?

That is only a happening and nothing more. It is the devilish guile of Philemon to let me sense a mystery behind this.

It is certainly Philemon who hatched this thought, and not this man.

How could a man come to a such a thought? Pleasure is the sensation of pleasure and nothing further.

Why should there be a mystery behind this? Why does this man ask me about a mystery behind this?

Who gave him this crazy thought? Who goaded him to the impertinence to ask me such?

To attribute such a crazy thought to me? Who other than Philemon?

Only his evil art can produce such thoughts that stick to one like a robe of Nessus.

But I have no mystery, it is madness to ask me about mysteries, impertinence, cruelty.

There is nothing behind sensation, no mystery, nothing beyond or  within it.

It is sensation alone-yes, laugh at my tears-sensation is sensation, pleasure is pleasure, displeasure is displeasure and nothing further.

I do not want there to be a mystery within it-that is a disgusting, crazy thought, dirty and stupid.

I. My soul, tell me, why does Salome get upset? Is it so terrible that a mystery could lie behind pleasure?

S. Don’t you notice that Salome goes against morality?

She is in her manner pure pleasure, pure sensation, with no thought, dirtied by no mystery-that is her ideal.

You have offended her moral sense, you have even undermined it, since doubt no longer leaves her.

Sal. Sensation is pure. Why do you want to mix in a mystery and muddy clear water with it?

S. But yet you see, Salome, that the thought that a mystery could lie behind pleasure has bewitched you and will no longer let you go.

Why have you been seized by this thought?

Truly only because something in you came to meet it. What came to meet it? Truly the same thought that lay ready in you.

Sal. That can’t be true, since I don’t even think.

S. That doesn’t stop it thinking in you.

Sal. Do you also think that there is a mystery hidden behind pleasure?

What sort of mystery? Should I possess a mystery? Not a bad idea.

I. Tell me, my soul, does Salome really not know the mystery or does she dissemble?

S. Naturally, she doesn’t know it, since she herself is the mystery.

Sal. What are you saying? That I am myself the mystery? How can I know myself? Does pleasure know itself?

S. And yet you have already betrayed your mystery to us.

You are the mystery that stands behind all pleasure, the soul, that touches the earth, you, my sister, who embraces matter, who makes the unsayable experiential.

My love belongs to the eternal images, your love to eternal matter. Ka is your father, Philemon my father.

So the veil, that deceptively hid the truth, dissipated the mist and created a thousand blind alleys, is rent.

Recognize yourself as soul, renounce the purity of your pleasure, you yourself are its impurity, its blending, its mystery.

Pleasure contains the eternal meaning, as the image contains the eternal pleasure.  Are my images pure?

I believed so and have forgotten it. My images breathe the pleasure of the world.

And your pleasure gives birth time and time again to the eternal images. Is the deaf pure blue of the sky purity?

No, it is blue, because you see matter. What would the crystalline clarity of water be, if you didn’t see the water?rr7 Only emptiness is pure.

Pure pleasure is empty and would therefore be no pleasure.

A pure image would be empty and would therefore be no image. Since an image always portrays something.

Pleasure wants image in eternity and image wants pleasure in eternity.

Sublime one, the 4 ways are accomplished, the 4 sufferings have been fulfilled borne, the 4 joys are fulfilled fulfilled, the offering to the Gods of the 4 winds have been prepared. The final work is accomplished:~ Salome became sighted.

The 4 winds rise up to you, the 4 streams flow to you.

The time has come where you alone speak, you God of all true and false Gods, you being of all non-being. We are silent and await your speech.

I. I feel fear. Who will speak? From which depth or height, from which area of heaven or earth will the voice come?

S. Do not worry. A choir speaks like one voice and the voice like a choir.

<l>A:The one voice of all beings speaks in you. The sun of all suns shines in you. You go the way of all ways, alone with all.

I. My soul, this is hardly to be borne.

S. Be silent, do not resist.

Phanes. This way shall lead out into the land of men, an assignment.

The mystery of the summer morning, the happy day, the completion of the moment, the fullness of the possible, born from suffering and joy, the treasure of eternal beauty, the goal of the 4 paths, the spring and the ocean of the 4 streams, the fulfilment of the 4 sufferings and of the 4 joys, father and mother of the Gods of the 4 winds, crucifixion, burial, resurrection, and man’s divine enhancement, highest effect and non-being, world and seed, eternity and rime instance, poverty and abundance, expansion, death and the rebirth of God, borne by eternally creative force, resplendent in eternal effect, loved by the two mothers and sisterly wives, ineffable pain-ridden bliss, unknowable,
unrecognizable, a hair’s breadth between life and death, a river of worlds, canopying the heavens-I give you the love of men, the opal jug of water; he pours water and wine and milk and blood, food for men and Gods.

I give you the joy of suffering and suffering of joy.

I give you what has been found: the constancy in change and the change in constancy.

The jug made of stone, the vessel of completion. Water flowed in, wine flowed in, milk flowed in, blood flowed in.

The four winds precipitated into the precious vessel.

The Gods of the four heavenly realms hold its curvature, both the mothers and both the two fathers guard it, the fire of the North burns above its mouth, the serpent of the South encircles its bottom, the spirit of the East holds one of its sides and the spirit of the West its other side.

Forever denied, it exists forever.

Recurring in all forms, forever the same, this one precious vessel, surrounded by the circle of animals, denying itself, and arising in new
splendor through its self-denial.

The heart of God and of man. It is the One and Many.

A path leading across mountains and valleys, a guiding star on the ocean, in you and always ahead of you.

Completed, indeed truly completed is he who knows this. Completion is poverty. But poverty is means gratitude. Gratitude is love. ~The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 190-193