Dressed as” nonata” flesh, a Philadelphian experiment that transports them to an atomic precipice. In search of the agora where to free oneself from the exorbitant eyes that look at them … they touch and undress vulgarly.
Yes. The inquisition walks between the flesh of Eva, scrutinizing the order that makes up the ribs of the mud.
Do they sin? – No, father. They do not sin.
But they may lead the catharsis that liberates this blind humanity, of chains and cassocks.
Basements where there is death. They, the skin where the new seeds are generated … die, and are annihilated, tortured, crushed … by sticks by inferior beings.
Members of the same race.
estidas de carne nonata, un experimento filadelfia que las transporta hacía un precipicio atómico. En busca del ágora donde liberarse de los ojos desorbitados que las miran… tocan y desnudan vulgarmente.
Si. La inquisición camina entre las carnes de Eva, escudriñando el orden que conforman las costillas del barro.
¿Ellas pecan? – No, padre. Ellas no son pecado.
Pero puede que lideren la catarsis que libere esta ciega humanidad, de cadenas y sotanas.
Sótanos donde hay muerte. Ellas, la piel donde se engendran las nuevas semillas… mueren, y son aniquiladas, torturadas, machacadas… a palos por seres inferiores.
I should name this one as Salome 2 ! as this case fascinates me a lot; the subject of “Temptations” that’s the Wo-Mankind weak point. as I work on this for a long time. Therefore, the best lessons by master Jung. 🙂
A thinker should fear Salome, since she wants his head, especially if he is a holy man. A thinker cannot be a holy person, otherwise, he loses his head. It does not help to hide oneself in thought. There the solidification overtakes you. You must turn back to motherly forethought to obtain renewal. But forethought leads to Salome. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 248.
The prophet loved God, and this sanctified him. But Salome did not love God, and this profaned her. But the prophet did not love Salome, and this profaned him. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 248.
Salome loves me, do I love her? I hear wild music, a tambourine, a sultry moonlit night, the bloody-staring head of the holy one—fear seizes me. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 264.
So—you see: even banal reality is a redeemer. I thank you, dear friend, and I bring you greetings from Salome. ~Scholar’s Daughter to Carl Jung, The Red Book, Pages 262-3.
He [Jung] showed a diagram of a cross with Rational/Thinking (Elijah) at the top, Feeling (Salome) at the bottom, Irrational / Intuition (Superior) at the left, and Sensation / Inferior (Serpent) at the right. ~The Red Book, Page 247, Footnote 173.
Salome is hence apparently no (complete) correct embodiment of Eros, but a variety of the same. (This supposition is later confirmed.) That she is actually an incorrect allegory for Eros also stems from the fact that she is blind. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 365.
Salome is represented as the daughter of Elijah, thus expressing the order of succession. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 365.
My pleasure is dead and turned to stone because I did not love Salome. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 250, Draft, Footnote 198.
Salome’s approach and her worshipping of me is obviously that side of the inferior function which is surrounded by an aura of evil. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 253. Footnote 211.
It is strange that Salome’s garden lies so close to the dignified and mysterious hall of ideas. Does a thinker, therefore, experience awe or perhaps even fear of the idea, because of its proximity to paradise? ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 249, Draft, Footnote 178.
I see in splendour the mother of God with the child. Peter stands in front of her in admiration-then Peter alone with the key-the Pope with a triple crown-a Buddha sitting rigidly in a circle of fire-a many-armed bloody Goddess-it is Salome desperately wringing her hands-it takes hold of me, she is my own soul, and now I see Elijah in the image of the stone. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 248.
I: “How can I love you? How do you come to this question? I see only one thing, you are Salome, a tiger, your hands are stained with the blood of the holy one. How should I love you?” ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 246.
S: “You do me wrong. Elijah is my father, and he knows the deepest mysteries. The walls of his house are made of precious stones. His wells hold healing water and his eyes see the things of the future. And what wouldn’t you give for a single look into the infinite unfolding of what is to come? Are these not worth a sin for you?” ~Salome to Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 246.
E: “She loved the prophet who announced the new God to the world. She loved him, do you understand that? For she is my daughter.” ~Elijah to Carl Jung on Salome, Liber Novus, Page 246
Apart from Elijah and Salome, I found the serpent as a third principle. It is a stranger to both principles although it is associated with both. The serpent taught me the unconditional difference in essence between the two principles in me. ~Carl Jung and Elijah, Liber Novus, Page 247.
The place where Elijah and Salome live together is a dark space and a bright one. The dark space is the space of forethinking. It is dark so he who lives there requires vision. ~Carl Jung and Elijah, Liber Novus, Page 247.
A thinker who descends into his fore thinking finds his next step leading into the garden of Salome. Therefore the thinker fears his forethought, although he lives on the foundation of forethinking. The visible surface is safer than the underground. Thinking protects against the way of error, and therefore it leads to petrification. ~Carl Jung and Elijah, Liber Novus, Page 248.
A thinker should fear Salome, since she wants his head, especially if he is a holy man. A thinker cannot be a holy person, otherwise, he loses his head. It does not help to hide oneself in thought. There the solidification overtakes you. You must turn back to motherly forethought to obtain renewal. But forethought leads to Salome. ~Carl Jung and Elijah, Liber Novus, Page 248.
Because I was a thinker and caught sight of the hostile principle of pleasure from forethinking, it appeared to me as Salome. If I had been one who felt, and had groped my way toward forethinking, then it would have appeared to me as a serpent-en coiled daemon, if I had actually seen it. ~Carl Jung and Elijah, Liber Novus, Page 248.
In the garden, it had to become apparent to me that I loved Salome. This recognition struck me since I had not thought about it. What a thinker does not think he believes does not exist, and what one who feels does not feel he believes does not exist. You begin to have a presentiment of the whole when you embrace your opposite principle since the whole belongs to both principles, which grow from one root. ~Carl Jung and Elijah, Liber Novus, Page 248.
In my case, the anima contains not only Salome but some of the serpent, which is a sensation as well. ~Carl Jung, 1925 Seminar, Page 100
Salome’s performance was deification. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 253. Footnote 211.
“Shield men from her, and her from men. Listen to what she wails and sings in prison but don’t let her escape, as she will immediately turn whore. As her husband, you are blessed through her and therefore cursed. She belongs to the daimonic race of the Tom Thumbs and giants and is only distantly related to humankind. If you seek to grasp her in human terms you will be beside yourself The excess of your rage, your doubt, and your love belong to her, but only the excess. If you give her this excess, humanity will be saved from the nightmare. For if you do not see your soul, you see her in fellow men and this will drive you mad since this devilish mystery and hellish spook can hardly be seen through. Carl Jung, The Red Book, Pages 343-344.
“Look at man, the weal (one in his wretchedness and torment, whom the Gods have singled out as their quarry-tear to pieces the bloody veil that the lost soul has woven around man, the cruel nets were woven by the death-bringing, and take hold of the divine whore who still cannot recover from her fall from grace and craves filth and power in raving blindness. Lock her up like a lecherous bitch who would like to mingle her blood with every dirty cur. Capture her, may enough, at last, be enough. Let her for once tasting your torment so that she will get to feel man and his hammer, which he has wrested from the Gods.
“May man rule in the human world. May his laws be valid. But treat the souls, daemons, and Gods in their way; offering what is demanded. But burden no man, demand and expect nothing from him, with what your devil-souls and God-souls lead you to believe, but endure and remain silent and do piously what befits your kind. You should act not on the other but on yourself unless the other asks for your help or opinion. Do you understand what the other does? Never-how should you? Does the other understand what you do? Whence do you take the right to think about the other and act on him? You have neglected yourself your garden is full of weeds, and you want to teach your neighbour about order and provide evidence for his shortcomings.
“Why should you keep silent about the others? Because there would be plenty to discuss concerning your own daemons. But if you act on and think about the other without him soliciting your opinion or advice, you do so because you cannot distinguish yourself from your soul. Therefore you fall victim to her presumption and help her to whore. Or do you believe that you must lend your human power to the soul or the Gods, or even that it will be useful and pious work if you want to bring the Gods to bear on others? Blinded one, that is Christian presumptuousness. The Gods don’t need your help, you a laughable idolater, who seem to yourself like a God and want to form, improve, rebuke, educate, and create men. Are you perfect yourself?-therefore remain silent, mind your business, and behold your inadequacy every day. You are most in need of your own help; you should keep your opinions and good advice ready for yourself and not run to others like a whore with understanding and the desire to help.
You don’t need to play God. What are demons, who don’t act out of themselves? So let them go to work, but not through you, or else you yourself will become a daemon to others; leave them to themselves and don’t pre-empt them with awkward love, concern, care, advice, and other presumptions. Otherwise, you would be doing the work of the daemons; you yourself would become a daemon and therefore go into a frenzy. But the daemons are pleased with the raving of helpless men advising and striving to help others. So stay quiet, fulfil the cursed work of redemption on yourself for then the daemons must torment themselves and in the same way all your fellow men, who do not distinguish themselves from their souls and let themselves be mocked by daemons. Is it cruel to leave your blinded fellow human beings to their own devices? It would be cruel if you could open their eyes. But you could open their eyes only if they solicited your opinion and help. Yet if they do not, they do not need your help. If you force your help on them nonetheless, you become their daemon and increase their blindness, since you set a bad example. Draw the coat of patience and silence over your head, sit down, and leave the daemon to accomplish his work. If he brings something about, he will work wonders. Thus will you sit under fruit-bearing trees.
“Know that the daemons would like to inflame you to embrace their work, which is not yours. And, you fool, you believe that it is you and that it is your work. Why? Because you can’t distinguish yourself from your soul. But you are distinct from her, and you should not pursue whoring with other souls as if you yourself were a soul, but instead, you are a powerless man who needs all his force for his own completion. Why do you look to the other? What you see in him lies neglected in yourself You should be the guard before the prison of your soul. You are your soul’s eunuch, who protects her from Gods and men or protects the Gods and men from her. Power is given to the weak man, a poison that paralyzes even the Gods, like a poison sting bestowed upon the little bee whose force is far inferior to yours. Your soul could seize this poison and thereby endanger even the Gods. So put the soul under wraps, distinguish yourself from her, since not only your fellow men but also the Gods must live.
”When DIAHMON had finished, I turned to my soul, who had come nearer from above during DIAHMON’s speech, and spoke to her: “Have you heard what DIAHMON has been saying? How does this tone strike you? Is his advice good?”But she said, “Do not mock, or else you strike yourself Do not forget to love me.”
“It is difficult for me to unite hate and love,” I replied.“I understand,” she said, “yet you know that it is the same. Hate and love mean the same to me. Like all women of my kind, form matters less to me than that everything belongs to me or else to no one. I am also jealous of the hate you give others. I want everything since I need everything for the great journey that I intend to begin after your disappearance. I must prepare in good time. Until then I must make timely provision and much is still lacking. “”And do you agree that I throw you into prison,” I asked.
“Of course,” she answered, “there I have peace and can collect myself Your human world makes me drunk-so much human blood-I could get intoxicated on it to the point of madness. Doors of iron, walls of stone, cold darkness and the rations of penance-that are the bliss of redemption. You do not suspect my torment when the bloody intoxication seizes me, hurls me again and again into the living matter from a dark fearful creative urge that formerly brought me close to the lifeless and ignited the terrible lust for procreation in me. Remove me from conceiving matter, the rutting feminine of yawning emptiness. Force me into confinement where I can find resistance and my own law. Where I can think about the journey, the rising sun the dead one spoke o£ and the buzzing, melodious golden wings. Be thankful-don’t you want to thank me? You are blinded. You deserve my highest thanks.”Filled with delight at these words, I cried: ”How divinely beautiful you are!” And at the same time fury seized me:
“Oh, bitterness! You have dragged me through sheer and utter Hell, you have tormented me nearly to death -and I long for your thanks. Yes, I am moved that you thank me. The hound’s nature lies in my blood. Therefore I am bitter-for my sake, since how does it move you! You are divine and devilishly great, wherever and howsoever you are. As yet I am only your eunuch doorkeeper, no less imprisoned than you. Speak, you concubine of Heaven, you divine monster! Have I not fished you from the swamp? How do you like the black hole? Speak without blood, sing from your own force, you have gorged yourself on men.”Then my soul writhed and like a downtrodden worm turned and cried out, “Pity, have compassion.”
“Compassion? Have you ever had compassion for me? You brute bestial tormentor! You’ve never gotten past compassionate moods. You lived on human food and drank my blood. Has it made you fat? Will you learn to revere the torment of the human animal? What would you souls and Gods want without a man? Why do you long for him? Speak, whore!”She sobbed, “My speech stops. I’m horrified at your accusation.”
“Are you going to get serious? Are you going to have second thoughts? Are you going to learn modesty or perhaps even some other human virtue, you soulless soul-being? Yes, you have no soul, because you are the thing itself you fiend. Would you like a human soul? Should I perhaps become your earthly soul so that you will have a soul? You see, I’ve gone to your school. I’ve learned how one behaves as a soul, perfectly ambiguous, mysteriously untruthful and hypocritical.” ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Pages 343-344.
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This is the final leg of the journey Evan and his intrepid adventurers embark on. The images I have chosen for this short PPT wasn’t easy. I have amassed some amazing photos, paintings, and maps over the number of years to help me write the Search for the Golden Serpent. The ones I have selected have been inspirational, helping me visualise what the locations must have been like at the time, and the first image was used for my book launch in 2015.
The meaning of this surprisingly sturdy Absurdist play is famously open for debate.
Author Samuel Beckett told Roger Blin, who directed and acted in its first production at the Théâtre de Babylon in 1953, that all he knew for certain was that the two main characters, Vladimir and Estragon, wore bowler hats.
A “tragicomedy in two acts,” according to Beckett, Waiting for Godot emerged during a vibrant moment for experimental theatre, as playwrights turned their backs on convention to address the devastation of WWII.
Comedy got darker. Boredom, religious dread, and existential despair were major themes.
Perhaps we are on the brink of such a period ourselves?
Critics, scholars, and directors have found Godot a meaningful lens through which to consider the Cold War, the French resistance, England’s colonization of Ireland, and various forms of apocalyptic near-future.
Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in all that what truth will there be? (Estragon, having struggled with his boots in vain, is dozing off again. Vladimir looks at him.) He’ll know nothing. He’ll tell me about the blows he received and I’ll give him a carrot. (Pause.) Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. (He listens.) But habit is a great deadener. (He looks again at Estragon.) At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can’t go on! (Pause.) What have I said?
Welcome, to my sanctuary. Could I offer you some coffee or tea, and a pastry or maybe a breakfast biscuit? Something more unusual — perhaps herbal tea… maybe even catnip tea?
I had a few days away from my job, and other than a migraine and snow (both on Thursday), it’s been great. Of course there was a lot going on, just the same — and stressful as you might guess by the migraine. But it’s all good now. I’m finally relaxing a bit.
Le Facteur Cheval-Max Ernst 1932 Max Ernst’s 1932 collage Le Facteur Cheval is a homage to the extraordinary creator of the Ideal Palace, that marvellous folly that the Surrealists so loved: Ferdinand Cheval.
Born in 1836 in the Drome departement of France, approximately 30 miles south of Lyon, Ferdinand Cheval left school at 13 with an apprenticeship to a baker, however he eventually became a postman. One day in 1879 while doing his 18 mile round in the small village of Hauterives where he lived, Cheval in his haste stumbled over a stone. Stopping to examine the cause of his trip, Cheval was stuck by the strange shape and beauty of the stone and it reminded him of a dream that he had fifteen years previously and which he had almost forgotten. In the dream, which he found hard to express in words, he had built a palace or castle…
Erwin Blumenfeld-Nude 1939 Erwin Blumenfeld was one of the most celebrated fashion photographers of the 20th Century, renowned for his vivid and innovative colour photography that graced the cover of Vogue more times than any other photographer before or since. He was also a member of the German avant-garde, a close friend ofthe savage Berlin Dadaist Georg Grosz (seeEclipse of the Sun) whose techniques of photo-montage and collage he used throughout his career. His discovery of Man Ray shaped his earlier black and white nude photography leading Blumenfeld toexperiment with solarisation and double exposure.
With Hitler’s rise to power, Blumenfeld, a Jew, moved to Paris in 1936where he was discovered by Cecil Beaton who got him a job at French Vogue, however he was soon on the move again with the Nazi invasion of France, this time to America. In the United States he continued his connection with…
Eclipse of the Sun-Georg Grosz 1926 A leading Berlin Dadaist (and therefore a card-carrying member of the Communist Psrty) and one of the most notableof the New Objectivity (Neue Sachlichkeit) artists, Georg Grosz’s satirical caricatures remain unsurpassed for theirchilling clarity of vision and unflinching brutality of execution.
Portraying the Weimar Republic as asociety mired in decadence and corruption, Grosz’s paintings and drawings are populated by prostitutes, gamblers, perverted millionaires, bloated generals and fat-cat bankers. In 1926’sEclipse of the Sun the dollar has obscured the sun, however the over-decorated general is receiving whispered advise from the top-hatted banker while the ‘suits’ complete the necessary paperwork so no need to worry. A blinkered donkey is advancing along a gangplank towards a shredder stuffed with money (a probable reference to the hyper-inflation that Germany was experiencing, where it was cheaper to burn money for fuel than to buy firewood).Down below people are…
I had too much to dream last night…again.
I feel like I’m suffering from a dream hangover.
I woke from my confusing, at times, exhilarating Dickens’A Christmas Carol -like dream (with Muppets), and again, filled with revelations. I was visited once again by Donald Trump who told me 3 others (the best 3 others) would visit that night. It was terrifying, he still wore the chains of greed, intolerance, and suffering he’d forged link by link…it seemed like there was more of the hairspray than grave about him.
When Colin Firth showed up as my Ghost of Christmas Pastin the white shirt from Pride and Prejudice(you know the one, ladies), I thought, bring it on, this dream just got X-tra special. He reminded me that all things past are actually always still with us…
My Ghost of Christmas Present (what a gift) turned out to be…