Red Book

Take your God with you.

Bear him down to your dark land where people live who rub their eyes each morning and yet always see only the same thing and never anything else.

Bring your God down to the haze pregnant with poison, but not like those blinded ones who try to illuminate the darkness with lanterns which it does not comprehend.

Instead, secretly carry your God to a hospitable roof.

The huts of men are small and they cannot welcome the God despite their hospitality and willingness.

Hence do not wait until rawly bungling hands of men hack your God to pieces, but embrace him again, lovingly; until he has taken on the form of his first beginning.

Let no human eye see the much loved, terribly splendid one in the state of his illness and lack of power.

Consider that your fellow men are animals without knowing it.

So long as they go to pasture, or lie in the sun, or suckle their young, or mate with each other, they are beautiful and harmless creatures of dark Mother Earth.

But if the God appears, they begin to rave, since the nearness of God makes people rave.

They tremble with fear and fury and suddenly attack one another in fratricidal struggles, since one senses the approaching God in the other.

So conceal the God that you have taken with you. Let them rave and maul each other. Your voice is too weak for those raging to be able to hear.

Thus do not speak and do not show the God, but sit in a solitary place and sing incantations in the ancient manner: ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 283-284