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7 Oct. 1917- 4
Jung: My soul, offerings have been brought. Willingness is attested. Submission has taken place.
S. “I see and I accept it. You have done what was required and you will do what is still required. Go your way, without doubts. Any way that opens-according to your ability.”
Yet now, what was it? Someone stood at the corner at night. What did he want and who was he?
S. “A darker spirit, a spirit of deception, a sorcerer of Satan, an adept of the blackest magic.”
What is his name?
S. Forget the name. He can tell you what he wants. His presence is sufficient-that’s bad enough.
I. What does he want? What does he bring?
S. “Truly devil’s crafts-you innocent one.”
I. Isn’t there enough already?
S. “Life never has enough.”
I. So let him speak.
S. to Ha. (the magician). listen, darker son of the ancient earth, nephew of mother’s mud, I call you. Come to the light of day.
Ha. Here I am-surely you have not seen anyone like me? Surely I’m necessary-Philemon, my son is probably too weak. Should I help? What do you pay?
S. Not a word about reward. You were the one who came first. We didn’t call you.
Ha. Now, you are being peremptory. What do you want?
S. I want nothing from you. You are too black, too much of midnight, too dreadfully earthy. But confess what you want from us!
Ha. Get rid of the damned daylight-it dazzles.
S. Precisely not. We do not want to be stared to death by you. Your manner is deadly. Speak, what do you want?
Ha. What I want-do you really want to know? I feel like strangling, yes, strangling. Does that please you? I feel like strangling a man.
S. So you were the one who hid himself in the black ape, who wanted to kill the harmless one.
Ha. No, you removed the ape from me with your damned offerings. But you forgot me. Your magic has no hold on me. Devise something stronger. I am there, I feel like strangling.
S. You know, noble one, that you can’t touch us. We are not frightened, you darkest apparition. And because you know that, you come without claims, without will, without power, only with a request. It burns you somewhat. Shall I tell you what? The grain of gold, that fell into your eye. That’s why you want night, so that one doesn’t see it. Yes, old liar and deceiver, squirm as much as you like. Your threat is powerless. You ask if one could mercifully release you from the gold grain. Would you say that that is the truth?
Ha. What truth? Damned ones! I took the gold away from you. Fetch it, if it pleases you.
S. You lie. You looked with longing. Then the grain of gold fell into your eye, since you longed for the gold. But it burns you and you were only too happy to get rid of it. That’s why you come to ask. Ask courteously, so that we permit you to give it back to us.
Ha. You bad tormenting devil-fetch it yourself.
S. We don’t fetch it.
Ha. I can’t draw it out.
S. Make an effort.
Ha. Swine, scoundrels, devils-it won’t budge. Have you no pity? We too want to live.
S. We let you live, but not at our expense.
Ha. listen, sister, you are also of our kind. Some murder, some blood-pleases you, does it not? Some more darkness, some more abyss-doesn’t that entice you? Why then so high up-it is warmer down here.
S. Drop your wisdom-the gold grain burns you, so get down to business.
Ha. I can’t-not so loud-he hears it.
S. He should hear it- what worries you abis?
Ha. He doesn’t like the dirt. His grain of gold fell into the dirt, which I love above all, the dung that I am, the father of the scarab. All scarabs nest in me. I am nourishment and maternal enclosure for them.
S. I know, that is your devil’s craft, yet the grain of gold that you should not and cannot not take burns you.
Ha. Try to come closer to me-you must smell the dirt, you must touch it. You can later wash your hands in innocence.
S. I won’t.
Ha. You too want the grain of gold, don’t you? Doesn’t it belong to you? You know that it is the germ of the scarab, its ** egg, which is so valuable to you.
S. We could wait till it is has burnt you enough. You are too black, who would want to get besmirched by you!
Ha. Please let us negotiate. What should I give you, for you to take the grain of gold again?
S. We would like your science.
Ha. No, not that-under no conditions.
S. Precisely that. So let it burn you, if you aren’t willing.
Ha. So listen then! What do you want from my science?
S. We would like knowledge beyond Philemon. He is your son and you know about your unborn grandson. He sits in your eye, the holy scarab. You see him and you know about him.
Ha. Damned ones-precisely that should not be-wait, stop-I don’t want to –
S. We’re waiting. It still burns you.
Ha. You devil’s wife, stop this torment. Philemon should pronounce it.
S. But you came instead of him, since you know the secret. Spit it out. Then you are released.
Ha. Kara-kara- krama- kras-tel-ham- have you tasted from the many-leaved tree-the golden fruit-did you see the gold-laden, delicious, ripe and fruitful seed? Have you recited the magical spells, diverse and confused, the invocations? Get the book, read it out loud, call, so that he8 comes. Do that, that loosens the burning grain.
S. (to me). Read the incantations!
Ha. Oh-how it burns- like hot lust, like hellish pain. Give water-quench the eternal fire-a knife, that cuts out the blaze bloodily. A chisel and hammer strike-that sprays out the glowing grain- still not enough. Touch me, touch me-you must participate in my torment-how can it be otherwise? let mystery surround you. A thousand dark coats, [5/6] for your act of redemption- I weave an impenetrable mystery for you
are protected-
S. What a stink! It’s suffocating.
Ha. I suffer unbearably- a helping hand, I beg you.
S. Patience, you are still too dark and have given us nothing, but just begged.
Ha. I don’t know anything beyond Philemon. He is not a man-why then does this man care? I too am not a man-I’m just a remnant.
S. Why do you hesitate? Out with it.
Ha. leftovers aren’t so tasty. leftovers stink to heaven. The Gods be damned! What torment!
S. Come to yourself and leave the Gods out of it.
Ha. Yes-to my self-to be it, yes- but to say it-I could strangle you.
S. You couldn’t try it even once.
Ha. Why did my mother bear me- I crawled out of a stone-do you know the ridiculous entity that calls itself my mother- one could call it a stake, a sharp block or a cone. It’s beautiful, it’s pointed above and completely round underneath and evenly proportioned on all** sides.9 But I crawled out of the top. She can’t laugh and can’t cry and is totally like hard stone. There is a mark, a sign on earth, that the unpopulated earth is embossed with a law, that everything has to be regular, everything has to be straight or circular. The old fire can melt and burn away everything, but the black mother stone never melted once it had been formed. I tremble, its shadow stands above, bright glowing peak on peak. My father, the fire, concocted this. I hate my father, whom I still must serve without cease. Who but I always changes and disturbs the quiet straight and circular work of my mother, I, who have inherited the fire of my father? I love everything regulated because I love my mother and always disturb it. Oh, how it captures and soothes me, when I see what is straight and regulated.
I must be there and disturb it, or at least disturb something; it excites me to bring the straight out of its course. To cross something with a bent line, to suddenly distort something regular-I can’t let it pass. Then why should the cone that my father irrefutably crafted go tip to tip with my mother’s? Something crooked would do just as well. That’s why I lodged a grain of sand between them, which mother could not
pulverize and that** my father’s fire could not melt. likewise not finding it on earth, nonetheless I caught it when it plummeted from the stars. That was good stuff that never fails to plague-** I shouldn’t say it out loud-it is man. He shouldn’t know that he lies between two cone tips that want to** meet each other. He’s always wanting to make himself soft and tear himself up because of it, the fool, instead of making himself hard and fireproof. He always wants out of the press, one moment toward earth, one moment toward heaven. But he can’t do it; he is held captive and if he were clever, he would be strong and fireproof. He would be like a crystal, but I also disturb him, since I know how one makes him erratic. That is my secret. You’re not going to have it, you know enough.
S. Not enough! This secret too must come out.
Ha. Stop, I won’t let myself be ransacked.
S. It burns you. let it go.
Ha. You can’t understand, despite the fact that you often [7/8] saw it. It’s the runes. I know them. They are my work, my science.
S. That’s it, that’s what I want. That’s what you have to teach us.
Ha. No, never ever.
S. I wait. Otherwise you won’t be released.
Ha. You devil, why should that be? The runes belong to me and no one else. You are too stupid. I alone understand them. What if you understood that! I won’t give them up, never ever.
S. Does the grain of sand burn you?
Ha. I can’t deny it. But the runes? You can’t use them anyway. Too damn smart a science for you! look here, these snatches:
j \Yo ~Z®~FJi~@~ J
What do you want with this? And there is still a lot to them!-?
S. You should read that to us.
Ha. Do I know how? I can’t. Should I? You wouldn’t believe it. But look, the two diagonals lead to the circle. A straight line stands at the bridge and makes a step downwards, and crawls like a serpent over two suns. It then goes straight downward and coils itself, and imitates the upper cone and has the sun in its belly. This is underlined twice, because it is important and behind it is a straight halt. After that it stretches out two arms, and would like to stand firm, straight, and draw the two suns toward it. That’s dirty, isn’t it? But the lower cone has the dark sun in its belly and therefore one is horrified by it. If it was a wheel which bore the cross in it, it would stand still and still take the
way of the serpent around the two suns. That’s what it says.
S. Explain-that is incomprehensible!
Ha. You lack dirt. Your understanding has no dung in it. The two diagonals, however, are you yourself. The circle is the sun. One has the sun, the other doesn’t. That’s why you are diagonal. However there must be one that stands straight and goes over the bridge, but that leaves the two suns behind it and becomes straight. That’s why it has to go under again and coil around itself, then it has the sun in the belly of the upper cone. It will stay longer with this, but the other longs for the second sun But the other sun is dark in the belly of the lower cone. You see that he who is horrified at himself has the sun as a head, and as a wheel is entirely sun, and goes straight on the
serpent’s way and it is no longer straight above, but a small tail upward-that is funny! Have you learned something?
S. That is something. But you already sent us runes earlier. You must read these to us:
~ Vo’~-fl, ~ ~~”:f]Df~~
~enH;~~ IO
Ha. Damn, you make me think. But I am not stupid- I am much cleverer than you. See the two with different feet, one earth foot and one sun foot-which reach toward the upper cone and have the sun inside, but I have made one crooked line toward the other sun. Therefore one must reach downward. Meanwhile the upper sun comes out of the _cone and the cone gazes toward it, dejected about where it is going. One has to retrieve it with a hook and place it in the small prison. Then 3 must stand together, unite, and twirl up at the top (concentric) . With this they manage to free the sun from its prison again. Now you make a thick bottom and a roof, where the sun sits safe at the top. But inside the house the other sun has risen also. Therefore you too are coiled up at the top and have made a roof over the prison again at the bottom, where so that the upper sun ** does not get in between. The two suns always want to be together-I said
so-both the cones- each has a sun. You want to let them come together, because then you think that you could thus be one. You have now drawn up both suns and brought them to one another, and you now lean to the other side- that is important ( =) but then there are simply 2 suns below, so therefore you have to go to the lower cone. Then you put the suns together there, but in the middle, neither above nor below, therefore there are not 4 [9/ro] but 2 , but the upper cone is below and there is a thick roof above and if you want to continue, you long to return with both arms. But you have a prison for two below, for both of you. Therefore you make a prison for the lower sun and fall
toward the ** other side, to get the lower sun out of the prison. This is what you would like back, and the upper cone comes and makes a bridge toward the lower, takes back its sun into it, which had run away before, and the morning clouds already come into the lower cone, but its sun is beyond the line, invisible (horizon). Now you are one and happy that you have the sun above and long to be with it above. But you are imprisoned in the prison of the lower sun, that now rises. There is a halt. Now you make something quadrilateral above, which you call thoughts, a door-less prison with thick walls, so that the upper sun does not leave, but the cone has already gone. You lean toward the other side, long toward the below and coil up at the bottom. Then you are one and make the serpent’s way between the suns-that is amusing! – and important (=). But because it was amusing below, there is a roof above and you must raise the hook upward with both
arms, so that it goes through the roof. Then the sun below is free and there is a prison above. You look downward, but the upper sun looks toward you. But you stand as a pair and have detached the serpent from you-it is probably ruined for you. Therefore you make a prison for the below. Now the serpent crosses the sky above the earth for itself. You are driven completely apart, the serpent wriggles its way through the sky around all the stars far above the earth. At the bottom it says: the mother gave me this wisdom. Are you content?
S. Not yet. We still have other signs, which you should read: ~The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 148-154
