The Alchemist and Sophia

Jeffrey Raff's Jung and the Alchemical Imagination quotes Paracelsus' “Hermetic Astronomy” in A.E. Waite, ed., The Hermetic and Alchemical Writings of “Paracelsus” the Great, vol. 2 and Michael Maier's Atalanta Fugiens, 1618.

A good active imagination [according to C.G. Jung] leads to the unexpected and creates insight and a fresh perspective (Raff 52). Paracelsus [b.1495], like Boehme [b.1575], whom he influenced, believed in the power of the imagination, but also in the dangers of fantasy:

Moreover, there are physicians without imagination, without faith, who are called phantastics. Phantasy is not imagination, but the frontier of folly. These work for any result, but they do not study in that school which they ought. He who is born in imagination finds out the latent forces of Nature, which the body with its mere phantasy cannot find; for imagination and phantasy differ the one from the other. Imagination exists in the perfect spirit, while phantasy exists in the body without the perfect spirit. He who imagines compels herbs to put forth their hidden nature (Paracelsus 307, qtd. Raff 42)

Fantasy creates illusion and folly, while imagination creates liberation and healing power. The alchemist believed that their work must follow the ways of nature in order to succeed, and they saw in nature a great teacher, but also a repository of latent powers and influences. One great teacher was Sophia, an “ordering principle” that guided and directed the steps of the alchemists. She is a feminine guide, either Nature or Wisdom, showing the way for the alchemist who struggles to follow Her. The alchemist must do its best to follow Nature’s way, or follow the guidance of Wisdom. In either case, it is the imagination that allows the alchemist to discover the hidden path. (Raff 42-44)

Inner wisdom, the imaginative power of the self, leaves behind its footprints, or the symbols that it creates, which the inner alchemist follows on his or her path. Wearing the spectacles of insight, guided by the lamp of consciousness, supported by the staff of inner authority, the alchemist endeavors to follow Sophia’s lead. Notice the plants and fruits symbolizing the endless creativity of Sophia. (Maier, qtd. Raff 46)

Imagination teaches about the nature and needs of the self, of the world, and of the unconscious. In the imaginative experience, the ego encounters “the Other,” and must find its correct position in relation to the Other. Such experiences are often disconcerting to the ego, which likes to think of itself as master of the whole psychic world. The ego finds itself in a position of being only a partner, and not even the managing partner at that. Imagination is a challenge that requires the ego to transcend its previous idea and step into the unknown. Paracelsus saw in nature a mystery containing a hidden world of symbols and signs. The true alchemist must be able to see underneath the surface. In this regard, fantasy involves intellectual thinking, the mind locked into appearances that can never penetrate the hidden meaning behind the surface. Imagination, on the other hand, is the light of nature that reveals all her secrets and allows the physician to determine the correct substance to heal a particular disease. (Raff 47-49)

Whenever We Touch Nature We Get Clean

C.G. Jung's Dream Analysis

Whenever we touch nature we get clean. Savages are not dirty—only we are dirty. Domesticated animals are dirty, but never wild animals. Matter in the wrong place is dirt. People who have got dirty through too much civilization take a walk in the woods, or a bath in the sea. They may rationalize it in this or that way, but they shake off the fetters and allow nature to touch them. It can be done within or without. Walking in the woods, lying on the grass, taking a bath in the sea, are from the outside; entering the unconscious, entering yourself through dreams, is touching nature from the inside and this is the same thing, things are put right again. All these things have been used in initiation in past ages. They are all in the old mysteries, the loneliness of nature, the contemplation of the stars, the incubation sleep in the temple. (142)

The 2,000,000-Year-Old Man May Know Something

 C.G. Jung's "A Talk with Students at the C.G. Jung Institute of Zurich (1958)"
excerpt from C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, 1977.

What is [wo]man to do with his [/her] passionate, primitive, chthonic nature?

Go to bed. Think of your problem. See what you dream. Perhaps the Great Man, the 2,000,000-year-old-man, will speak. In a cul-de-sac, then only do you hear his voice. The urge to become what one is is invincibly strong, and you can always count on it, but that does not mean that things will necessarily turn out positively. If you are not interested in your own fate, the unconscious is. The 2,000,000-year-old man may know something.

I have no trouble talking to primitives. When I talk of the Great Man, or the equivalent, they understand. The Great Man is something that reacts.

The way is ineffable. One cannot, one must not, betray it. It is like the way of Zen, like a sharp knife, and also twisting like a serpent. One needs faith, courage, and no end of honesty and patience. (359-61)

The Story of the Rainmaker

C.G. Jung’s Interpretation of Visions
"The Story of the Rainmaker of Kiau Tschou"
as told by Richard Wilhelm (1873-1930), a missionary in China and translator of the I Ching (1923)

There was a great drought where Wilhelm lived; for months there had not been a drop of rain and the situation became catastrophic. The Catholics made processions, the Protestants made prayers, the Chinese burned joss sticks and shot off guns to frighten away the demons of the drought, but with no result. Finally the Chinese said: we will fetch the rain maker. And from another province, a dried up old man appeared. The only thing he asked for was a quiet little house somewhere, and there he locked himself in for three days. On the fourth day clouds gathered and there was a great snowstorm at the time of the year when no snow was expected, an unusual amount, and the town was so full of rumors about the wonderful rain maker that Wilhelm went to ask the man how he did it. In true European fashion he said: “They call you the rain maker, will you tell me how you made the snow?” And the little Chinaman said: “I did not make the snow, I am not responsible.” “But what have you done these three days?” “Oh, I can explain that. I come from another country where things are in order. Here they are out of order, they are not as they should be by the ordinance of heaven. Therefore the whole country is not in Tao, and I am also not in the natural order of things because I am in a disordered country. So I had to wait three days until I was back in Tao, and then naturally the rain came.” (1997, 333-334)