‘My life is a story of the self-realisation of the unconscious. Everything in the unconscious seeks outward manifestation, and the personality too desires to evolve out of its unconscious conditions and the experience itself as a whole. I cannot employ the language of science to trace this process of growth in myself, for I cannot experience myself as a scientific problem.
What we are to our inward vision and what we appear to be, can only be expressed by way of myth. Myth is more individual and expresses life more precisely than does science. Science works with concepts of averages which are far too general to do justice to the subjective variety of individual life….
We are a psychic process which we do not control, only partly direct. Consequently, we cannot have any final judgement about ourselves or our lives. If we had, we would know everything – but at most that is only a pretence. At bottom we never know how it has all come about. The story of life begins somewhere, at some particular point we happen to remember; and even then it was already highly complex. We do not know how life is going to turn out. Therefore the story has no beginning, and the end can only be vaguely hinted at.
Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome.The part that appears above the ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away – an ephemeral apparition.’
From Jung’s Memories, Dreams, Reflections
I dream of deer. They are messengers – a part of my myth. Hisao. Life Story.