Spirits of the dead accompany her [Kali/Salome], spirits of the earth, buried ones-not the spirits of the eternal images.
They bear claws like dogs and cats, they have feet like black night birds, carrion birds, since the dancer rends, she has claws and sharp teeth, behind her lie bloody torn ones, blood pools and spirits of the dead gorge themselves on this.
She makes one drunk and she is drunk from the blood of the holy one, she pours poison into the entrails.
She is a fire of voluptuousness and torment of voluptuousness.
She is beautiful like hell.
She gives pleasure and the craving for poison.
She makes men drink poison and eat poison.
She is hellish temptation.
She is the compulsion of suffering.
I am eternal contemplation.
I carry up into eternity, she drags down into the mystery of matter, into the beauty of the earth, into the death of everything earthly.
I am the daughter of the eternal mother, she is the daughter of the eternal father.
She is the earth, I am the vessel of heaven.
Yes, she is the womb of the earth.
Actual forms grow from her, but the eternal images grow from me. ~Jung’s Soul, The Black Books, Vol. VII, Page 186-187
In your case, the idea of the polar-force image is probably connected with your earliest dreams of the pole of Heaven.
The pole is the center of a rotating system, which actually represents the mandala.
The basic primeval idea behind this seems to be that people are classified in this field of force.
The “pole” is also represented, as seems to be the case with you, as an emanating nucleus.
I have just discovered such a medieval representation in London,
The nucleus is often depicted as a lapis, as a mediator, as a vinculum and ligamentum elementarum, the connection of the elements.
Carl Jung on the Mandala
It is a great consolation to know that one’s included in the prayers of fellow beings.
The aspectus mortis is a mighty lonely thing, when you are so stripped of everything in the presence of God.
One’s wholeness is tested mercilessly.
An accumulation of drugs however necessary has made a complete rag of myself.
I had to climb out of that mess and I am now whole again.
Yesterday I had a marvellous dream: One bluish diamond, like a star high in heaven, reflected in a round quiet pool-heaven above, heaven below.
The imago Dei in the darkness of the earth, this is myself.
The dream meant a great consolation.
I am no more a black and endless sea of misery and suffering but a certain amount thereof contained in a divine vessel.
I am very weak.
The situation dubious.
Death does not seem imminent, although an embolism can occur anytime again.
I confess I am afraid of a long drawn-out suffering.
It seems to me as if I am ready to die, although as it looks to me some powerful thoughts are still flickering like lightnings in a summer night.
Yet they are not mine, they belong to God, as everything else which bears mentioning.
