Carl Jung considered The Red Book, a grand, illuminated volume in which he nurtured his theories, his most important work. Until now, very. When Carl Jung embarked on an extended self-exploration he called it his “confrontation with the unconscious,” the heart of it was The Red Book, a large. Detail of an illustration of a solar barge on page 55 of Carl Jung's The Red Book. Translated, the complete text on the page reads: "One word.
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How long shall this be in the heart of the prophets that prophesy lies?
Yea, they are prophets of the deceit of their own heart; Which think to cause my people to forget my name by their dreams which they tell every man to his neighbour, as their fathers have forgotten my name for Baal. The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath my word, let him speak my word faithfully.
What is carl jung the red book chaff to the wheat?
I feel that my will is paralyzed and that the spirit of the depths possesses me. I know nothing about a way. I can therefore neither want this nor that, since nothing indicates to me whether I want this or that.
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I wait, without knowing what I'm waiting for. But already in the following night I felt that I had reached a solid point.
I find that I am standing on the highest tower of a castle. The air tells me so: I am far back in time.
My gaze wanders widely over solitary countryside, a combination of fields and forests. I am wearing a green garment. A horn hangs from my shoulder. I am the tower guard. I look out into the distance.
'The Red Book': A Window Into Jung's Dreams : NPR
I see a red point out there. It comes nearer on a winding road, disappearing for a while in forests and reappearing again: He is coming to my castle: I hear steps on the stairway, the steps creak, he knocks: I saw you from afar, looking and waiting.
Your waiting has called me.
You think I am the devil. Do not pass judgment. Perhaps you can also talk to me without knowing who I am. What sort of a superstitious fellow are you, that immediately you think of the devil?
My life in the castle is poor, since I always sit here and no one climbs up to me. I have wandered a long time through the world, seeking those like you who sit upon a high tower on the lookout for things unseen.
You seem to be a rare breed. Your carl jung the red book is not ordinary, and then too — forgive me — it seems to me that you bring with you a strange air, something worldly, something impudent, or exuberant, or — in fact — something pagan.
But I'm no old pagan as you seem to think.