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May 5, 2013 - Jordan B. Peterson Podcast

01:52:51

Maps of Meaning 13 (Harvard Lectures)

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	We had to look at the public opinion that have since written out by the public policy.
	Thank you, my neighbors.
	Oh, is that the one where astronomers photograph God?
	Yes, it's got a picture of heaven.
	That was in my science class.
	They were like, look!
	Look what they've done to astronomy!
	Okay, now there's Jimmy Hoppe.
	See, his head's still intact with no body.
	I mean, the things they can do with photography are so wonderful, aren't they?
	There is a little bit.
	There is an article, but no more pictures.
	Or no more different pictures.
	Oh, there's no more pictures?
	Well, wait a minute.
	Oh, Kennedy was shot dead.
	From a UFO? For revealing truths about UFOs.
	You're kidding.
	Did you see Dole's great-grandmother?
	There's a picture.
	You talk to me for two minutes after class, if you-- OK.
	Composite.
	Bird.
	Bird.
	Right.
	What about the chair?
	The mother.
	Anything that makes reference to the mother?
	And the shape of the-- Well, you have to look at a bunch of those.
	You can tell just by looking at the one you're describing, but there's lots of symbols like that.
	Dear Mary, I think it's time for the terrible accident.
	Okay.
	Well, I guess this is all people like to get.
	Yeah.
	That's great.
	Okay, so today we're going to...
	I want to pass you around the picture first so you can all take a look at it.
	It's this picture here.
	This is very interesting, I think.
	There's a number of pictures like this from around this time period in European art.
	This is about the best complete representation that I've seen.
	Alright, so I'll pass this around anyways.
	The picture's divided into two halves.
	On the right side, this is the tree of life, the tree of knowledge of good and evil, sort of combined into one image, which is not all that infrequent.
	On the right side of the image is Eve, Adam sitting in the background here.
	Eve is handing out fruit from the tree, taking it from a serpent's mouth, by the way.
	That's the serpent of chaos.
	Taking the apple from the serpent's mouth and handing it to humanity over here.
	And in the background is this figure that clearly represents death.
	And also, you'll note, in the tree, one of the apples is replaced by a skull.
	Alright?
	Then on the right-hand, or on the left-hand side of the image, there's a figure that represents the church, given maternal form here, seen as a counterpart to Eve.
	And there's a picture of Christ crucified up in the branches of the tree.
	And that symbolizes the notion that, the old Christian notion, that Christ was the second fruit of this tree.
	So the first fruit was the was the fruit that bestowed on people knowledge of good and evil, that had as its negative consequence consciousness of death.
	And the second fruit was the figure of the hero here, who's construed in most myths as the answer to the question that was posed by the original event.
	So you say the Christian story makes a lute, basically.
	It posits that there's a problem which is The fact of mortality, or the fact of knowledge of mortality, depending on how you look at it, and that there's also an answer to that problem, which is whatever pattern of being is represented by this figure.
	So the thing that the figure representing the Church is handing out are hosts, and the hosts in the Catholic Mass are theoretically considered to be equivalent to Christ's body, and that's a reference to really archaic sacrificial symbology of an incredibly archaic nature,
	based on the notion that if you ingest something that you can become like it, which is the idea that sort of stands behind the mass.
	So, anyways, you can take a look at this painting.
	There's another one that's sort of like it, although it's not quite as good an image in this particular book, on page 121, expressing the same sort of idea.
	So...
	I'll just pass that around.
	You can take a look at it and think about it, because it makes a nice background for the talk.
	It'll end this class off, which is today.
	I'm going to read you some things today from the last part of this manuscript, because while I spent a lot of time constructing them, I think there are more...
	Because I have to cover a tremendous amount of material today, I don't want to miss the essential lines of the argument.
	So, this whole course has been aimed at trying to understand motivation behind acts of cruelty that have no apparent justification.
	So, one of the things that we've been trying to understand is what forces motivate individuals to protect their social territory in general.
	And the idea is, well...
	Will you shut the door, please?
	Thanks.
	So, I mean, the initial hypothesis basically is predicated on the idea that people have an innate response to novelty.
	That novelty is terrifying at first encounter, particularly if that encounter is involuntary, and that the reason we construct organizations of social order is to keep that novelty at bay, which is to say that We would rather live where there's order than where there's chaos, because chaos has an intrinsically overwhelming affective valence.
	So we have one level of motivation to protect our territory that stems purely from our psychobiology.
	Everything stems from our psychobiology, I suppose, but it's most clear there.
	Then there's a second level of phenomena that have to be accounted for, and I've told you some stories More recently, that Goldhagen had gathered together when he was talking about the Nazi death camps near the end of the war, making the point that the Nazis did not,
	assuming that they were motivated, as you might assume, by the desire to take over the world, to dominate the world, which would mean motivated by the desire to spread their particular pattern of beliefs everywhere so that there was no chaos anymore anywhere, you'd expect that when they put people like The Jews or the gypsies into the concentration camps that they would have tried to extract from them as much productive labor as possible in order to further this particular end.
	But it seems to be the case, at least frequently, that the labor that was extracted from the victims in the concentration camps had no productive value whatsoever.
	It certainly wasn't useful in furthering the cause of the war.
	It may have even hampered it, evidently, at that point.
	Because, of course, the Germans lost a tremendous amount of their intellectual capacity when the lucky Jewish intellectuals managed to escape their clutches.
	Goldhagen points out in Solzhenitsyn details this sort of thing quite frequently, too, that much labor, so to speak, was only implemented for the purpose of cruelty and humiliation, so Goldhagen tells a story about a typical Work operation which involved moving a large rock from one place to another while being beat and then moving it back,
	which is a parody of work, not work itself, and obviously only instituted to humiliate and torture people who are already about as victimized as you could possibly imagine.
	You need another level of motivation.
	Another level of explanation to account for that sort of phenomenon, which is gratuitous cruelty, or even cruelty as a sort of aesthetic, as a way of life, as something worth pursuing in and of itself.
	And I don't think you can understand, you don't understand what human beings are like, you certainly don't understand motivation for acts of social conflict until you get both parts of the story sort of firmly embedded in your mind.
	So you could say, well, it's more purely the case that the fear of unknown territory motivates our desire to associate with a group.
	A group is composed of people whose actions we can predict.
	Furthermore, while we're in that group, we can predict our own actions.
	So that pretty much keeps the novelty of the environment, so to speak, at bay, but also the novelty that's in other people and ourselves.
	Then you need to...
	But then you have to account for this other level of phenomenon.
	The way I attempted to do that was by discussing mythologies of the dawn of consciousness, two of them in particular, the mythology of the initial stages of the enlightenment of the Buddha,
	and also the myth that's contained in the story of Genesis, which describes how Adam and Eve ate The fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and then immediately became aware, not only of their own mortality, but of everything that that sort of signified,
	which was partly the fact that they were going to die, partly the fact that now it was necessary for them to make moral choices, they had that capacity, partly that they were going to have to work, and that's something we haven't concentrated on that much, that they have to work to sustain their existence.
	The only You only have to work when you can envision negative possibilities that your instincts would not have normally construed of themselves.
	Animals don't work, they just live.
	We work because we can imagine a plethora of negative possibilities that do not exist in the present, and we're always attempting to ensure that they don't exist in the future as well, which is just a hypothetical place in a sense.
	The fact that we work means that we're dissociated, in a sense, from what we'd like to do, because we certainly normally juxtapose work with what we would like to do, and the two aren't in the same category.
	Work is what you do, so you get to do what you would like to do, at least under normal circumstances.
	So part of the fall, part of the consequences of the fall, or the rise into self-consciousness, depending on how you look at it, was the necessity of endless work.
	So knowledge of death, endless work, that basically about sums it up.
	Of course, it's also the case that when Adam becomes self-conscious, he puts on his fig leaf, he adopts the trappings of culture, he also immediately hides from God.
	And, well, those ideas are all tangled together in the Genesis myth.
	I mean, Adam hides from God because he's ashamed, and the reason he's ashamed is because he clearly recognizes his own vulnerability.
	That vulnerability, the recognition of that vulnerability, makes it impossible for him to, to exceed to God, or to see God, at least in the mythological story.
	And I think what that's trying to represent is, in part, the fact that it's knowledge of our own vulnerability that makes us doubt our, our, what would you say, our, our fitness in the sight of God.
	It's hard to talk about this without lapsing into mythological terms.
	It's knowledge of our own vulnerability that leads to our own shame.
	I guess that's the simplest way to put it.
	and that makes us hide from the possibilities in ourselves that are most potent.
	So then I told you a little bit of a story that sort of went like this.
	There's a feedback loop, in a sense, that's generated as a consequence of the dawning of self-consciousness, and one is the generation of shame, and the other is The moving away from destiny that's most appropriate, that leads to a weakening of character,
	and weakening of character makes the world seem much more terrible than it is because, well, as you lose sight of the process that can allow you to adapt to things the way they are, It is the case that things that you can no longer handle take on a more and more aggressive and hostile and vicious face.
	So I guess the simplest way to look at that is to think that the world is such a complex place, so unpredictable in its essence and so charged with danger everywhere that In order to adapt to it properly, it's necessary to utilize all of your resources.
	Your own knowledge of your own limitations is enough to stop you from believing that those resources have any value.
	The more you move away from those resources, partly because they take work, partly because you don't believe in them anymore, the weaker you get and the more terrible the world appears.
	Well, Milton basically, I think, represented that part in his description of Satan's generation of hell around him.
	Tying in another complex aspect of the argument, which was the inability to admit to error.
	It's hard in brief to demonstrate how all those ideas are tangled up.
	I guess the basic notion is that it's knowledge of our own essential vulnerability that makes us lack belief in our capacity to face the consequences of our own errors or even to admit that those errors are there.
	Without that capacity, it's impossible for us to further the development of our personalities because it's only after admission of error that further exploration can take place, and it's out of the consequences of exploration that personality is generated and the terrors of the world transformed into something, either positive or at least irrelevant.
	Okay, so what we're hoping to do today, to some degree, in a very brief period of time, is to describe how that process, how all the negatives that are associated with the processes that we've described might be overcome to some degree.
	I'm going to start that by reading with something.
	I mean...
	I guess the argument basically hinges on this point.
	Does the fact that there are negative things necessarily corrupt people?
	You can see Nietzsche said, and I quoted his statement last week, he said that only he who suffers from actuality has motivation to lie himself out of it.
	And of course that statement was Nietzsche's attempt to account for human behavior in general, making the case that we all have reason to suffer from actuality and therefore are all motivated to lie ourselves out of it.
	Freud took an extreme position like that, saying that our fear of reality, which was essentially knowledge of our own mortality, was sufficient to have generated all of the religious and artistic structures that we've erected, which Freud basically regarded as neurotic delusions against the anxiety of death.
	That's a powerful argument, I think.
	I guess the problem I have with that particular perspective is that it's extraordinarily pessimistic because it's basically predicated on the idea that unvarnished reality, so to speak, is of necessity, so terrible that it's impossible to face it.
	So that some falsehood of some sort has to be erected between you and your actual experience in order to make that experience tolerable.
	Now, I can understand the rationale behind that argument.
	It springs up again in these social psychological studies that we think that idea springs up again, you know, that a certain amount of delusion is necessary for mental health.
	Well, I guess really what I want to do is explore that idea and look at the opposite perspective, which is that, well, no, that's not right.
	It's insufficient grasp of reality that makes it too terrible to bear.
	And the story I want to tell you today is the story about about the exploration of that particular hypothesis.
	And the first thing that I thought might be useful, because one of the things we've been trying to do in this class so far is to draw distinctions between things, so that we can figure out distinctions between various negative things and distinctions between various positive things, and to look at how the mythological imagination categorizes the world so that we can understand it more rationally.
	One of the things that I think is very useful to draw a distinction between when we're trying to answer the question, is the world so terrible that it cannot be actually perceived properly, is to attempt to draw a distinction between evil and tragedy.
	And I'm going to...
	Because it's certainly the case, look, it's certainly the case, as we all know, that in the course of our life we're going to encounter the same sort of phenomenon that Buddha encountered when he went outside of his castle walls.
	And there's no possibility in anyone's existence for them to escape sickness, or old age, or death.
	Those things are absolutely certain.
	And certainly, tinged with negative affect, at least in terms of their apprehension, So the question is, given that those are the background conditions of existence, is it possible, nonetheless, that existence can be positive enough so that it can be apprehended accurately instead of hidden from?
	And I think one of the things that you have to understand before you can answer a question like that is the nature of the distinction between evil and tragedy.
	And in order to To address that distinction, I turn first to an argument that was put forth by Ivan in the Brothers Karamazov, which is regarded, as far as I can tell, as one of the most potent pro-atheistic arguments that's ever been set down in literature.
	Now, Ivan and Elosha are two of the Brothers Karamazov, and Elosha is a spiritual person.
	He wants to be a monk, and his brother Ivan is also, I suppose, of the same They are brothers after all, but he's also extraordinarily intellectual, and his intellectual ability has completely destroyed his ability to manifest the sort of faith that characterizes Elosha.
	And so they're sitting down one time, I believe they're both drunk.
	I don't remember all those characters in Dostoevsky's novels, they're always drunk.
	And they have a very lengthy discussion about the central meaning of the world, I guess.
	Ivan makes a very, very powerful case, and it's sort of the worst-case scenario.
	He says, look, this is how the world is constituted.
	By all approaches I can conceive of, if it's constituted in this way, it's necessary to adopt the attitude of Goethe's Mephistopheles, which is basically that.
	The conditions of existence are so unbearable that existence itself has no justification.
	It should cease to be.
	Now, under most conditions, we don't draw that sort of conclusion, but there are times, especially when our worlds become much less secure than they normally are, where that sort of thing springs naturally to mind.
	As long as things are going according to plan, we don't think like that.
	But when the unexpected rises up and manifests itself in some extraordinarily destructive way, that's the first sort of notion that comes into our minds.
	So I'm going to outline that argument.
	This is from Jeffrey Burton Russell, who wrote a four-volume series on the devil in the modern world.
	Thank you.
	He presents Ivan's argument for atheism.
	Ivan's examples of evil are all taken from the data newspapers of 1876.
	They're unforgettable.
	There's a noble man who orders his hounds to tear a peasant boy to pieces in front of his mother, a man who whips his struggling horse on its gentle eyes, Parents who lock their tiny daughter all night in a freezing privy while she knocks on the walls pleading for mercy.
	A Turk who entertains a baby with a shiny pistol before blowing its brains out.
	Ivan knows that such horrors occur daily and can be multiplied without end.
	He states, I took the case of children to make my case clearer.
	And so, of course, what he's doing is he's presenting a situation where the innocent are tormented.
	Because that's an archetypal situation, fundamentally.
	Because an archetypal situation is where the most extreme situations that characterize any particular case are brought up into the story.
	So if you want to tell a very good story, what you do is you make the extreme case.
	And that's what Ivan's doing.
	He says, how can you justify the suffering of innocence?
	Of the other tears with which the earth is soaked, I will say nothing.
	Russell states, the relation of evil to God has in the century of Auschwitz and Hiroshima once again became a center of philosophical and theological discussion.
	The problem of evil can be stated simply.
	God is omnipotent.
	God is perfectly good.
	Such a God would not permit evil to exist, but we observe that evil exists, therefore God does not exist.
	I think it's absolutely necessary to realize that this line of reasoning does not have to be formulated in a purely theological manner.
	Whether or not you consider the conditions of existence generally as God or as due to God, It has no relationship, really, necessarily, on the attitude you bring to bear on the conditions of existence.
	Whether you're an atheist or a religious explicitly, the same problem presents itself to you, which is that things that are terrible, by any manner in which terrible can be defined, constantly occur without apparent reason, and also without Without our ability to control them.
	Under such circumstances which evidently exist, is it possible to posit in any tenable manner that life itself is worth living?
	That doesn't have to be a religious argument or expressed in religious terms, although at its core it's the only religious argument, really.
	It's the only question.
	Variations on the theme are nearly infinite.
	The problem is not only abstract and philosophical, of course, it is also personal and immediate.
	Believers tend to forget that God takes away everything that one cares about.
	Possessions, comfort, success, profession or craft, knowledge, friends, family and life.
	What kind of God is this?
	Any decent religion must face this question squarely, and no answer is credible that cannot be given in the face of dying children.
	Okay, so that's the argument there set up for the worst case scenario.
	This is typical of Dostoevsky's novels.
	I mean, that's what makes him a great novelist, fundamentally.
	His five great novels all address problems that are basically impossible.
	The relationship of good to evil in crime and punishment.
	The relationship of divinity and individuality in the idiot.
	The relationship of personal behavior to social catastrophe in the devils.
	And the relationship between fathers and sons, that's part of it, in the Brothers Karamazov, where this argument is also discussed.
	What do you say to a dying child?
	You say, look, my love, you can do it.
	You're strong enough to do it.
	You hold her hand and fight the suffering you can't control with the love that you can.
	It seems to me that we use the horrors of the world to justify our own evil.
	We make the presumption that human vulnerability is a sufficient cause of human cruelty.
	We blame God and God's creation for twisting and perverting our souls, and claim all the time to be innocent victims of circumstance.
	I don't have much experience as a clinical psychologist.
	Two of my patients, however, stayed in my mind.
	The first was a woman about 35 years old.
	She looked 50.
	She reminded me of a medieval peasant, at least of my conception of a medieval peasant.
	She was dirty.
	Clothes, hair, teeth.
	Dirty with the kind of filth that takes months or even years to develop.
	She was unbearably shy.
	She approached anyone who she thought was superior in status to her, which was basically everyone, punched over with her eyes shaded by both hands as if she could not tolerate the light emanating from her target.
	She'd been in behavioral treatment as an outpatient before and was a sight known to the permanent staff at the clinic.
	Others had tried to help her overcome her unfortunate manner of self-presentation, which of course made people on the street shy away from her, made them regard her as crazy and unpredictable.
	She could learn to stand or sit up temporarily with her eyes unguarded, but she reverted to her old habits as soon as she left the clinic.
	She might have been intellectually impaired, a consequence of a biological fault.
	It was difficult to tell because her environment was so appalling it may have caused her ignorance.
	I thought perhaps that she had an IQ of about 80 or 85.
	She was illiterate as well.
	She lived with her mother, whose character I knew nothing about, and with an elderly, desperately ill, bed-ridden aunt.
	Her boyfriend was a violent, schizophrenic alcoholic, at least as far as I could determine, who mistreated her psychologically and physically, and was always muddling her simple mind with tirades about the devil and the worship of Satan.
	She had nothing going for her.
	No beauty.
	No intelligence.
	No loving family.
	No skills.
	No employment.
	Nothing.
	She didn't come to therapy to resolve her problems, however, to unburden her shoulder to describe her mistreatment and victimization at the hands of others.
	She came because she wanted to make friends with someone who was permanently hospitalized.
	The clinic where I was interning was associated with a large psychiatric hospital.
	All of the patients that still remained after the shift to community care in the 60s were so incapacitated that they could not survive on the streets.
	You've seen street people, and they're incapacitated enough as a general rule.
	Imagine how incapacitated people who weren't allowed to go back on the streets were.
	In the basement of that hospital, there was a coke room down in the basement of the hospital.
	The hospital was connected by tunnels all over the place, I think probably because it was so cold there.
	It looked like a scene from Dante's Inferno in that coke room.
	I mean, there were people in there that were so damaged, it was just beyond your capacity to imagine.
	Anyway, she'd done some volunteer work of some limited type in that hospital and decided that she could maybe take someone for a walk and make friends with them.
	I think she got the idea because she had a dog which she walked regularly and which she liked to take care of.
	All she wanted from me was help in arranging this, help finding someone she could take outside, help finding someone in the hospital bureaucracy who would allow this to happen.
	I don't think I was very successful in aiding her, but she didn't really seem to mind.
	It is said that one piece of evidence that runs contrary to a theory is sufficient to disprove that theory.
	Of course, people don't think this way, and perhaps should not.
	In general, a theory is too useful to give up easily.
	It's too difficult to regenerate.
	An evidence, again, should be consistent and believable before it's accepted.
	But the existence of this woman made me think, She was destined for a psychopathological end from the viewpoint of biological environmental determinism, as fated as surely as anyone I'd ever met.
	And maybe she beat her dog sometimes and was rude to her sick aunt.
	Maybe.
	I didn't see her when she was vindictive or unpleasant, even when her simple wishes were thwarted.
	I don't want to say that she was a saint, because I didn't know her well enough to tell.
	But the fact was that in her misery and simplicity, she remained essentially without self-pity, and still able to see outside of herself.
	I hesitate to say that I learned more from her than she did from me, because that sounds literary and trite, but she didn't learn anything from me.
	Why wasn't she a criminal?
	Cruel, unbalanced, and miserable.
	She had every reason to be, and yet she wasn't.
	It seemed to me that in her simple way she'd made the proper choices, she remained bloody but unbowed.
	And she seemed to me, rightly or wrongly, to be a symbol of suffering humanity, sorely afflicted, yet capable of courage and love.
	Such I created all the ethereal powers and spirits, both them who stood and fell who fell.
	Not free, what proof could they have given sincere of true allegiance, constant faith or love, where only what they needs must do appear, not what they would.
	What praise could they receive?
	What pleasure I, from such obedience paid?
	When will and reason, reason also is choice, useless and vain, of freedom both despoiled, made passive both, had served necessity, not me.
	They therefore as to right belonged.
	So were created.
	Nor can justly accuse their maker, or their making, or their fate, as if predestination overruled their will, disposed by absolute decree or high foreknowledge.
	They themselves decreed their own revolt, not I. If I foreknew, foreknowledge had no influence on their fault, which had no less proved certain unforeknown.
	So without least impulse or shadow of faith, or ought by me immutably foreseen, they trespass, authors to themselves and all, both what they judge and what they choose.
	For so, I form them free, free they must remain, till they enthrall themselves.
	I else must change their nature and revoke the high decree, unchangeable, eternal, which ordained their freedom.
	They themselves ordained their fault.
	That's God's discussion of the relationship between choice and evil in Milton.
	The other patient I wish to describe was a schizophrenic in a small inpatient ward at a different hospital.
	He was about 29, a few years older than me.
	I'd been in and out of confinement for seven years when I met him.
	He was, of course, on anti-psychotic medication, participated in occupational therapy activities on the ward, taking coasters and pencil holders and so on, but he couldn't maintain his attention for any length of time, wasn't even much good at craft.
	My supervisor asked me to administer an intelligence test to him, standard WASR, more for the sake of my experience than for any possible diagnostic good it might do.
	I gave him a dozen or so red and white blocks for the block design test.
	He's supposed to arrange the blocks, so they matched a pattern printed on the cards that came with the test.
	He picked them up and started to rearrange them on the desk in front of him, while I timed them stupidly with a stopwatch.
	The task was impossible for him, even at the simplest of stages.
	He constantly looked distracted and frustrated.
	I asked, what's wrong?
	He said, the battle between good and evil is going on in my head.
	I stopped the testing at that point.
	I didn't know exactly what to make of his comment.
	He was obviously suffering, and the testing seemed to make it worse.
	What was he experiencing?
	He wasn't lying, that's for sure.
	In the face of such a statement, it seemed ridiculous to continue.
	I spent some time with him that summer.
	I'd never met anybody who was so blatantly ill.
	He talked on the ward, and occasionally I would take him for a walk through the hospital grounds outside.
	He was the third son of first-generation Middle Eastern immigrants.
	His firstborn brother was a lawyer, the other a physician.
	His parents were obviously ambitious for their children, hardworking and disciplined.
	He'd been a graduate student at McGill, working towards a master's degree in immunology.
	I don't remember exactly.
	His brothers had set him a daunting example, and he felt pressured to succeed.
	His experimental work had not turned out as he had expected, however, and he apparently came to believe that he might not graduate, not at least when he'd hoped to.
	So he faked his experimental results and wrote up his thesis anyways.
	He told me that the night he finished writing he woke up and saw the devil standing over him at the foot of his bed.
	This event triggered the onset of his mental illness from which he'd never recovered.
	Of course, it might be said that the apparition merely accompanied the expression of some stress-induced pathological neurological development Whose appearance was biologically predetermined, and that the devil was a personification of his culture's conception of moral evil, manifesting itself in fantasy as a consequence of his distress.
	Such description would remain accurate and plausible.
	But the fact that remains that as a person he saw the devil, and that the vision accompanied or was the event that destroyed him.
	He was afraid to tell me much of his fantasy, a very well-developed fantasy world, and it was only after I'd paid careful attention to him that he opened up.
	He wasn't bragging or trying to impress me.
	He didn't want to tell me any of this.
	He was terrified about what he thought.
	He was terrified as a consequence of the fantasies that impressed themselves upon him.
	He told me that he couldn't leave the hospital because someone wanted to shoot him.
	That's a typical paranoid delusion.
	Why did someone want to kill him?
	Well, he was hospitalized during the Cold War, not at its height, perhaps, but still during a time when the threat of purposeful nuclear annihilation seemed more plausible than it does now.
	Many of the people I knew used this threat, the existence of this threat, to justify to themselves their failure to participate fully in life, a life which they thought of romantically as doomed and therefore as pointless.
	But there was some real terror in this pose, and the thought of countless missiles pointed here and there around the world sapped the energy and faith of everyone, hypocritical or not.
	My schizophrenic patient believed that he was, in fact, the incarnation of the world-annihilating force, and he was destined, upon his release from the hospital, to make his way south to a nuclear missile silo on American territory, and to make the fateful decision that would launch the Third World War.
	The people outside the hospital knew this, and that is why they were waiting to shoot him.
	He didn't want to tell me this story, because he thought then I might want to kill him too.
	My friends in graduate school thought it was quite comical that I had contact with a patient like this.
	My peculiar interest in Jung and Jung's ideas regarding the collective unconscious were well known to them.
	It seemed absurdly fitting that I would end up talking to someone with delusions of this type, but I didn't know what to do with his ideas.
	Of course they were crazy, and they died in my patient, but it still seemed to me that they were true from a metaphorical viewpoint.
	His story in totality linked his individual choice between good and evil with the cumulative horror then facing the world.
	His story implied that because he had given in to temptation at a critical juncture, he was in fact responsible for the horror of the potential of nuclear war.
	How could this be?
	It seemed insane to me to even consider that the act of one powerless individual could be linked in some manner to the outcome of history as a whole.
	I'm no longer so sure.
	I've read much about evil, its manner of perpetration and growth, and I'm no longer convinced that each of us are so innocent or harmless.
	It is, of course, illogical to presume that one person, one speck of dust among four billion moats, is in any sense responsible for the horrible course of human events.
	But that course itself is not logical.
	Far from it.
	And it seems likely that it depends on processes that we do not understand.
	Geoffrey Burton Russell argues in his work on the history of the concept of the devil that the classic distinction drawn between natural evil and moral evil is untenable, that occurrences such as plagues and earthquakes belong in the same category of events as concentration camps and wars.
	The existence of natural evil, for which God is theoretically responsible, has been used as evidence for the most potent arguments for the non-existence of God, say for the non-existence of any meaning.
	Such as Ivins outlined previously.
	Dostoevsky states, Perhaps the entire cosmos is not worth a single innocent child suffering.
	How can the universe be constructed so that pain is permitted?
	How can a good God allow for the existence of a suffering world?
	It seems reasonable to me to draw a distinction between tragedy and evil.
	Tragedy has an ennobling aspect, at least in potential, and has been constantly exploited to that end in great literature and mythology.
	Tragedy exists where the heroic encounters limitation.
	Evil, by contrast, is anything but noble.
	Participation in acts whose sole purpose is expansion of innocent pain and suffering destroys character, while forthright encounter with tragedy might increase it.
	This is the meaning of the symbol of the crucifixion.
	It's Christ's full participation in a freely chosen acceptance of his fate which he shares with everyone and enables him to manifest his full identity with God.
	And it's that identity which enables him to bear that fate and which strips of it of its evil.
	Conversely, it is our voluntary demeaning of our own characters which makes the necessary tragic conditions of existence appear evil.
	Why do these conditions exist?
	Why are we subject to unbearable limitation?
	To pain, disease and death, and to cruelty at the hands of nature and society.
	It seems to me that it is because a game cannot be played without rules.
	God and man are, in a sense, twins, says a Midrash.
	And this means that God made man because he lacked limitation.
	If we could have everything we wanted merely for wishing it, if every tool performed every job, if everyone was omniscient and immortal, then everything would be the same.
	The same all-powerful thing, God, and creation wouldn't exist.
	It is the differences between things which is a function of their specific limitations that allows them to exist at all.
	Should they be?
	It seems to me that we answer this question implicitly but profoundly when we lose someone loved and grieve.
	Grieve presupposes having love.
	Presupposes the judgment that this person's specific, bounded, and vulnerable existence was valuable.
	It was something that should have been.
	But still the question lingers.
	Why should things, even loved things, exist at all if their necessary limitations cause such suffering?
	I dreamed I was walking out of a deep valley along a paved two-lane highway.
	The highway was located in northern Alberta where I grew up and came out of the only valley for miles around an endlessly flat prairie.
	I passed a man hitchhiking who could see another in the distance.
	As I approached him, I could see that he was in the first stages of old age, but he looked terribly strong.
	Someone passed him in a car, driving the opposite direction, and a female voice yelled out, Look!
	He has a knife!
	He was carrying what looked like a wooden-handled kitchen knife, well-worned and discolored, but it had a blade at least two and a half feet long.
	Across his shoulder, he'd strapped a large leather sheaf.
	He was walking along the edge of the highway, muttering to himself, and swinging the blade in a jerky and chaotic fashion.
	He looked like the landlord who lived next door to me when I was a graduate student living in a poor district in Montreal.
	My landlord was a powerful aging ex-biker, former president of the local Hells Angels chapter by his own account.
	He'd spent some time in prison as a younger man.
	He'd settled down somewhat, typically, as he became more mature and had brought his drinking under control for a time.
	His wife committed suicide, however, when I lived there, and he went back to his wilder ways.
	He often went on binge drinking sprees and spent all the money he earned in the electronic shop he ran out of a small apartment.
	He would drink 40 or even 50 beer in a single day and would return home in the evening, blind drunk, howling at his little dog, laughing, hissing between his teeth, incoherent, good-natured still, but able to become violent at the slightest provocation.
	He took me once to his favourite haunts in slightly better condition on his 1200cc Honda, which had the acceleration of a jet plate for short distances.
	Me perched precariously on the back of his bike, clinging to him, wearing his wife's helmet, which sat on my head ridiculously, as it was at least five sizes too small.
	Drunk, he was almost innocently destructive, and ended up in fights constantly, unavoidably, as he would take slights from people whose path he crossed, who were insufficiently cautious in their conversation with him.
	I hurried by this figure.
	He seemed upset that no one would stop and pick him up, as if he were unaware of the danger he posed.
	As I went by, his gaze fell on me, and he started after me.
	Not from anger.
	More for desire for companionship, I think.
	But he was too unpredictable for me.
	He wasn't fast, however, so I stayed ahead of him on the road.
	The scene shifted.
	The knife-wielding figure and I were now on opposite sides of a huge tree, perhaps 100 yards in diameter.
	On a spiral staircase that wound around the tree out of the depths below into the heights above.
	The staircase was made out of old, worn, dark wood.
	It reminded me of the church pews in the church I attended with my mother as a child when I was married.
	This figure was looking for me.
	It was a long way back, and I had hidden myself from this view.
	As I ascended the staircase, I remember wanting to continue on my original journey out of the valley, onto the flat surrounding plain where the walking would be easy, but the only way to stay away from the night was to continue up the staircase, up the axis mundane.
	Thus awareness of death, the grim reaper, the terrible face of God, compels us inexorably upward towards a consciousness sufficiently heightened to bear the thought of death.
	The point of our limitations is not suffering, Its existence itself, the point of evil by contrast, is conscious destruction, manifest desire for increase of pain, anxiety and suffering.
	We've been granted the capacity to voluntarily bear the terrible weight of our mortality.
	We turn from that capacity and degrade ourselves because we're afraid of responsibility.
	Thus the necessarily tragic preconditions of existence are made intolerable.
	Perhaps we could reserve answer to the question of God's nature, his responsibility for the presence of the evil in creation, until we have solved the problem of our own.
	Perhaps we could tolerate the horrors of the world if we left our characters intact and developed them to the fullest, if we took full advantage of every gift we've been granted.
	Perhaps the world would not look horrible then.
	It seems to me that it's not the earthquake, the flood or the cancer that makes life intolerable, horrible as those events appear.
	We seem capable of withstanding natural disaster, even if responding to that disaster in an honorable and decent manner.
	It is instead the pointless suffering that we inflict upon each other that makes life appear corrupt beyond acceptability, and that undermines our ability to manifest faith in our central natures, that makes us work even more diligently for the destruction of everything that lives and breathes.
	Christ said, Be therefore perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.
	But how?
	We seem stymied, as always, by Pontius Pilate's ironic query.
	What is truth?
	Well, even if we don't know precisely what the truth is, we can certainly tell each of us what it isn't.
	It isn't greed, and the desire above all else for constant material gain.
	It isn't denial of experience we know full well to be real, and the infliction of pain for the purpose of pain.
	It appears possible to stop doing those things which we know beyond doubt to be wrong.
	To become self-disciplined and honest, and maybe, therefore, to become able to perceive the nature of the positive good.
	The truth seems painfully simple.
	So simple that it's a miracle of sorts that it can never be forgotten.
	Love God with all thy mind and all thy acts and all thy heart.
	Serve truth above all.
	And treat your fellow men as if you were yourself.
	Not with a pity that undermines his self-respect, and not with a justice that elevates yourself above you, but as a corrupted divinity that could yet see the light.
	It is said it's more difficult to rule oneself than the city, and this isn't a metaphor.
	This is truth, as literal as it can be made.
	It is precisely for this reason that we're always trying to rule the city.
	It is a perversion of pride to cease praying in public, and to clean up the dust under our feet instead.
	Seems too mundane to treat those we actually face with respect and dignity when we can be active against in the street.
	Maybe it's more important to strengthen our characters than to repair the world.
	So much of that reparation seems selfish anyway.
	Is selfishness and intellectual pride masquerading as love, creating a world polluted with good works that don't work?
	Who can believe that it is the little choices that we make every day between good and evil that turn the world to waste and hope to despair?
	But it is the case.
	We see our immense capacity for evil constantly realized before us in great things and in small.
	We can never seem to realize our infinite capacity for good.
	Who can argue with the Sojournism when he states, one man who stops lying can bring down a tyranny.
	Christ said, the kingdom of heaven is spread out upon the earth, but men do not see it.
	What if this were in fact the case?
	What if it was nothing but our self-deceit, cowardice, hatred, and fear that polluted our experience and turned the world into hell?
	It's a hypothesis at least, at least as good as any other, admirable and capable of generating hope.
	Why can't we make the experiment and find out if it is true?
	I want to read you something else now.
	This is a description of a dream that I collected from my nephew.
	I'll read you the story about it because it's related to the experiment that I was just describing.
	The hypothesis that I was trying to generate in that chapter was that, look, if you're treating someone in psychotherapy, For an anxiety disorder, which basically means treating them because they're too afraid to continue living their life in the way that it has to be lived, even for it to continue.
	It appears beyond reasonable doubt now that attempting to convince the person of the unreality of their fear, or of the unreality of the category of things to be afraid of, is not useful.
	People do not respond to that.
	You can't talk someone out of their neurotic beliefs.
	All you can do is help them learn to confront those things that terrify them, and then perhaps what they learn is that they can confront those things that terrify them.
	They don't learn that the thing itself is any less terrifying, but they seem to learn that their own conception of themselves was so pathologically limited that That it was that conception that was in fact leading to their discomfort.
	Because the neurotic person who runs from everything that he or she is afraid of is positing to themselves that whatever it is that they are in essence is something so trivial that it can't stand up to negative emotion and prevail.
	And in therapy what you do is structure the situation so that the person can learn As a consequence of their own experience, not a consequence of the therapist's words, that if they're brave enough to look at what they can't tolerate looking at, that they'll in fact get better.
	And the thing that's so interesting about that, and that's mysterious even from the standard psychoanalytic viewpoint, is that when you do that to someone, Their ability to withstand fear generalizes, which means that if you teach them to withstand fear in one situation, then they're better at doing it in other situations.
	Their fear, even if it's symbolic underneath, doesn't multiply everywhere that you haven't exposed them.
	They may also get more confident, for example, in their interpersonal relationships, and that's a very common concomitant of exposure therapy for agrophobic women, for example.
	They start standing up to their husbands because, of course, prior to that, their husbands were categorized in the category of all those things that are too terrible to face.
	And what the therapist is teaching the client, even if the therapist doesn't know it explicitly, is that you are the sort of creature who is capable of standing up to the category of all things that are too terrible to face.
	And all you have to do is give it a shot for a while, which is to say, basically, that you have to manifest some behavioral faith in yourself, and you can discover that all by yourself.
	And that's as far as I can tell.
	And I've looked at different personality theories and different theories of psychotherapy, and they tend to boil down to the same thing in some way.
	that same thing is that well, first of all, that you need a coherent theory about what things are about and second of all, that exposure to the things that frighten you, cures you there's an alchemical dictum that according to Jung was the primary alchemical dictum instir quilinius inventur I hope that's pronounced right, but my Latin isn't any good.
	The translation for that is, it is found in cesspools.
	And that was the alchemist's general theory about where the philosopher's stone was to be found.
	And the philosopher's stone was a material substance, in theory, that possessed the power to grant eternal life, but also to bring about eternal health and youth and wealth.
	In other words, it was a thing that would grant and bear all wishes.
	And the alchemical notion went, You can find this thing where no one will look, and what that also means from the personal perspective is where you won't look.
	Well, that's a strange notion, but it's a bit more comprehensible if you start to think about it from the psychological perspective rather than from the empirical perspective, because you can say, well, even though the places that we won't look differ from person to person,
	From the perspective of a natural category, it might be reasonable to posit that that place where one will not look is similar in some sense across individuals, which is only to say that all of us have those particular things that we're afraid of facing, and the particulars differ.
	But the fact that those things exist is standard across people.
	King Arthur's knights sit at a round table because they're all equal.
	They set off to look for the Holy Grail, which is a symbol of salvation, symbolically, a container of the nourishing blood of Christ, which is another reference to sacrificial symbolism, keeper of redemption.
	Each knight leaves on his quest individually.
	Each knight enters the forest to begin his search at the point that looks darkest to him.
	When I was about halfway through writing this manuscript, I went to visit my sister-in-law and her family.
	She had a son, my nephew.
	Who's about five years old.
	He's very verbal and intelligent.
	He was deeply immersed in a pretend world and liked to dress up as a knight with a plastic helmet and sword.
	Marduk.
	He was happy during the day to all appearances, but didn't sleep well at night.
	Had been having nightmares for some time.
	He'd regularly scream for his mum in the middle of his rest and appeared quite agitated by what was going on in his nightmares.
	This was a daily occurrence, essentially, enough so that the household was being disrupted.
	I asked him one morning after he'd woken up what he'd dreamed about.
	He told me, in the presence of his family, that dwarf-like beaked creatures who came up to his knees had been jumping up at him and biting him.
	And interesting, I was just looking through some mythological imagery on the weekend, and I found out that, well, there are some archaeological notions, and I don't know how valid they are, that there was a point in European history where worship of the Mother Goddess was very widespread, and the cultures that performed this worship were then overrun by patriarchal cultures later, and patriarchal religions replaced these early matriarchal religions.
	I don't know.
	Similar theories to that, like Bakhofen's theory that the human race was once matriarchal and then was later patriarchal, have been discredited in the past.
	And I'm not so sure that this isn't just a projection of mythological structure onto history, which happens very often.
	But it doesn't matter.
	It doesn't matter to this discussion, although it matters.
	There are very many ancient images of goddess figures.
	We've looked at some of them, and I found out this weekend that many of them are figures of the combination of a woman's body with a bird.
	Sometimes the figure has wings, sometimes it has a beaked head.
	It's quite interesting.
	I guess this would be an example of synchronicity, because I've been thinking about this.
	I just saw the movie Crumb.
	Have any of you seen that?
	David Lynch, you should all see that, by the way, because it's, first of all, it's a very interesting study of an extraordinarily pathological family.
	Three brothers.
	One who molests women and is a bum in the streets of San Francisco, who also sits on beds of nails and has a very ascetic attitude.
	Another man, 50 years old, never left home, never slept with any women, depressed since he was 20, multiply suicidal, finally kills himself a year after the movie's made, and this other brother named Crumb, who's a famous underground cartoonist, who produces a lot of images while he perceives himself in relationship to women in general as a small,
	thin, Outcast sort of figure who tends to cling to the back of very large, powerful-looking women, who, by the way, often have bird heads, which I found very interesting.
	Anyways, these figures that popped up in my nephew's dreams, these dwarf-like beak creatures, were these sorts of...
	This archaic sort of image representing the source of all things.
	Well, you say, well, why would a beaked goddess be a good representation for the source of all things?
	Well, it has something to do with the notion.
	There's a whole bunch of notions compiled all together in that.
	One is that, well, birds, they fly.
	So they're spiritual creatures because they're associated with the air and the sky.
	And so they have a masculine aspect, like the Holy Ghost, for example.
	They have a masculine aspect.
	And the goddess, of course, is a more down-to-earth figure, so these figures represent the union of opposites, just like the Dragon of Chaos, which is a serpent with wings.
	Anyway, so that's what pops up in this particular dream.
	So anyways, he told me in the presence of his family that dwarf-like, beaked creatures who came up to his knees had been jumping up at him and biting him.
	Each creature was covered with hair and grease and had a cross shaved in the hair on the top of its head.
	The dream also featured a dragon who breathed fire.
	After the dragon exhaled, the fire turned into these dwarves who multiplied endlessly with each breath.
	I thought that was a great image too.
	He told the dream in a very serious voice to his parents and to my wife and I, and we were shocked by its imagery and horror.
	It was really interesting to watch him because Well, like I said, he was always running around in this little night outfit anyway, so he's in this world, whatever it was composed of, he's very imaginative.
	But then as soon as we asked him about the dream, he just launched into it without a pause.
	It was almost as if you could see the imagery running in his head, and he just told the story with no hesitation whatsoever.
	And, well, the other thing I guess that was what made so interesting to watch him was that his attention moved from the outside world, you know, where all of us were, obviously inside, because he wasn't focusing on anything while he was telling the story.
	He was just letting the imagery run.
	Anyways, the dream occurred at a transition point in his life.
	He was leaving his mother to go to kindergarten and was joining the social world.
	The dragon, of course, served as the source of fear itself, for the unknown in general, the Uroboros.
	While the dwarves were individual things to be afraid of, so you see the mythological images, the dragon of chaos, the breeze fires standing at the back of everything, and it produces these things that have this archaic matriarchal nature, which is the unknown as it actually manifests itself in experience, and so there's this Eternal source, and as it breathes fire, particular things that frightened him would pop up.
	And the thing that I thought was so interesting is there's hydra mythology in it too, because the hydra, of course, is a multi-headed dragon.
	He cut off one head and seven more grow.
	Well, that's basically a pretty accurate representation of it.
	The way life progresses under some conditions, because every time you solve a problem, some other problem pops up somewhere else, or sometimes when you solve a problem, the solution that you use to solve the problem generates a whole bunch of new problems.
	The Hydra mythology is basically just a representation of the idea that no matter how much time you run around putting out fires, new fires keep popping up all over, and that will always be the case.
	It's also a representation of the fact that a political utopia That's conceived of as a permanent state is impossible, because when you generate a solution, the solution generates problems.
	And there's no way you can stop that.
	Partly because the solution does far more things than you would like it to do, which is why, for example, drugs have so-called side effects.
	You have a problem, you apply the drug to it, the drug produces all sorts of other problems, I mean, hopefully that are at least smaller than the original problem, but sometimes, who knows, maybe they're bigger.
	It still remains to be seen, for example, whether television has solved more problems than it's created.
	My guess is the reverse, but whatever.
	The point is, things do all sorts of things other than what you think they'll do.
	Anyways, I asked him what he could do about this dragon.
	He said, immediately, I would take my dad and we'd go after the dragon.
	I'd jump on its head and I'd poke out its eyes with my sword.
	Then I'd go down its throat to where the fire came out.
	I cut the box out that the fire came from and make a shield from it.
	Well, that really blew me away.
	I couldn't believe that he could...
	I mean, the idea of going...
	First of all, he blinded the dragon, which I thought was very interesting, but then he went down his throat.
	I mean, that's...
	I showed you that Pinocchio video, right, where they go inside the whale.
	I mean, that's exactly archaic imagery.
	But then there was a twist of brilliance in this dream because he said that the thing to do was to take The box that the fire came from, which was the source of the unknown itself, and transform it into something that he could actually use against the unknown.
	And that idea is so brilliant that it's a miracle of sorts that it could be reproduced in the dream of a five-year-old.
	Because what it says is that what is necessary is to go to where fear itself resides, Where the unknown itself resides, to identify with that thing and to use it as a defense against the unknown itself.
	Which is exactly what we do all the time when we adapt to the fact that there is an unknown, which is to say that when something unknown occurs, which means when some new information pops up, because the two things are precisely equivalent, It's as a consequence of exploring that new information that you generate new things that you can use to further the process of adaptation.
	So you say, well, the unknown is the source of all the problems.
	Well, we know that.
	But it's also the source of all the answers to the problems.
	And it is the case that, well, we use nature against nature, so to speak, to quote an ancient source that I can't remember.
	That's the process of constructing culture.
	As we use the material world to defend ourselves against the material world and, well, hopefully the balance remains on our side.
	He had reproduced an archaic hero myth in perfect form.
	I thought the idea of making a shield from the firebox was brilliant.
	This gave him the strength of the dragon to use against the dragon.
	His nightmares ended at that point and did not return.
	Even though he had been suffering from them almost every night for a number of months.
	I asked his mother about his dreams more than a year later, and she reported no further disturbance.
	Of course, many of you are going to find that hard to believe, but that's true.
	That's actually what happened.
	That's what occurred.
	Now you see, the thing is, he was having this problem, obviously, whatever it was.
	It was plaguing him in his nightmares, whatever those were composed of.
	He was running around like a knight, trying to act out the solution, but he didn't quite have it.
	He was using his behavior in ritualistic form to address a problem of adaptation, which he couldn't manage.
	But as soon as he made the dream explicit, and then came up with a solution, the problem disappeared.
	And the little boy, guided by his imagination, adopted identification with the hero and faced his worst nightmare.
	If we're to survive individually and socially, each of us must do the same.
	In Sturquilina sin vinatur, in filth it will be found.
	This is the prime alchemical dictum.
	What you need most is always to be found where you least wish to look.
	It's not a mythological statement.
	It's only recognition of the fact that In order to adapt to ongoing experiences, it's necessary to make use of every experience that you've had.
	And it's only those experiences that you haven't made use of that you've determined are too terrifying to contemplate.
	And then, as a logical consequence, it's necessarily the case that all those things that you've allowed to stay classified as too terrible to contemplate do, in fact, contain all that information that you need to survive.
	Because it is their lack, it's their lack of use that has actually resulted in you constructing a personality that's too trivial to withstand the full weight of your experience.
	You know, if something's bugging you, you know, it's like, let's say you have a situation with your parents that's never been resolved, it's like bugging you for, well, who knows, some people, things like that bug them for like...
	Decades without ever facing them.
	The reason it's bugging you is because that's a little chunk of the unknown that your limbic system has detected, so to speak, and it's always popping Like, here's some information you're not paying attention to.
	Well, I don't want to pay attention to it because it makes me anxious.
	Well, yes, it makes you anxious.
	That's the form that new information always takes.
	That's how it enters into your consciousness to begin with, as something that makes you anxious.
	Of course, you have any number of reasons to move away from it, since it makes you anxious.
	But the problem is, if you keep doing that, then you don't make use of all the novel experience.
	Well, the question is, well, why would you move away from it?
	Instead of facing it.
	Well, the answer to that is obviously because you don't think that you're capable of facing it.
	Which is to say that you've defined yourself in opposition to this thing, which is intolerable, and the definition you use is that I am too insignificant or weak or whatever, inconsequential or unable to face this aspect of my experience, which I know by my own rules actually exists. which I know by my own rules actually exists.
	Now, anomalous information brings terror and possibility, revolution and transformation, rejection of an unbearable fact stifles adaptation and strangles life.
	Thank you.
	There wasn't a good man who owned a vineyard.
	He leased it to tenant farmers so that they might work it and he might collect the produce from them.
	He sent his servant so that the tenants might give him the produce of the vineyard.
	They seized his servant and beat him, all but killing it.
	The servant went back and told his master.
	The master said, perhaps they didn't recognize him.
	He sent another servant.
	Tenants beat this one as well.
	Then the owner sent his son and said, perhaps they will show respect to my son.
	Because the tenants knew that it was he who was heir to the vineyard, they seized him and killed him.
	But him who has ears hear, Christ said, show me the stone which the builders have rejected.
	That one is the cornerstone.
	I don't get that.
	Jung griped that particular story as one of the sources for the notion of the philosopher's stone.
	He says, show me the stone which the builders have rejected.
	That one is the cornerstone.
	Well, it's a complicated story.
	Wasn't it the idea that in the Jewish temple the cornerstone was the stone that had the perfect dimensions, that all of the stones were based and built upon that one?
	Right, right, that's one of the references.
	And that the Jews rejected Jesus as the Savior, Messiah, and He is the one that...
	Well, that's, I would say that's, uh, yes.
	That's part of the symbolic structure that surrounds the idea.
	The story, in a sense, has a more straightforward interpretation, in a way.
	I mean, all that the moral of that story means is two things.
	One is that whatever it is you reject is the thing that you need.
	That's the first thing.
	It doesn't matter what it is, it's just the fact is that you have to make use of all the things that present themselves to you.
	Whether or not you find them affectively tolerable.
	Now, we already know that you determine what's affectively tolerable as a consequence of the value structure that you erect, right?
	You're always analyzing phenomena in reference to the goals that you perceive as valid.
	So whether something is affectively tolerable or not depends to an immense degree on your interpretation of what's important.
	And it may be the case that certain things To you, appear intolerable because you're unwilling to give up a value structure that's really pathological.
	If you gave up the value structure, the thing that looked unbearable wouldn't be unbearable at all.
	It might even be positive.
	So you can switch the valence of things very rapidly by just transforming the thing that you believe in.
	Well, we already know that certain forms of anomalous information have the capacity to completely overthrow the philosophies that you use to evaluate events.
	What about the first part of that story, or the other story there?
	That seems a little bizarre.
	The story is saying that these two events are precisely the same.
	If you define yourself as that creature which is unable to accommodate to or assimilate negative events, you've abandoned your identification with the hero.
	That's what that means.
	What do the individual characters symbolize in the story about the vineyard?
	They symbolize...
	Well, that's what I was trying to get at with that.
	Well, the owner of the vineyard symbolizes God.
	Now, what the story is trying to represent is the idea that sacrifice of identity with the hero, which is equivalent to his death internally, is equivalent to rejection of anomalous information.
	That's what it means.
	Because this is the thing that I've been trying to lay out describing the relationship between the process that's represented by Milton's Satan There's no difference between saying, this thing is too intolerable to face, and saying, I am too little to face it.
	Those are exactly the same thing.
	So, moving yourself away from information that you regard as too threatening to tolerate is identical to destruction of identification with the hero.
	So why are the two servants sent first?
	What are they?
	What?
	What's that?
	Well, I meant from a more...
	Yeah, I don't know.
	I don't know, actually.
	What's that?
	Well, yeah, I guess what those figures represent is approximations to the hero, which would fit perfectly well into the interpretation that they were prophets.
	So they don't like those, but they like the hero even less.
	Right, right.
	They weren't too thrilled with people who approximated the hero, precisely.
	So that's exactly the case.
	It's a reference to the fact that people in groups tend to devour those individuals upon which the group actually depends.
	What this story is pointing out, I guess, is that that would even be the case if the figure that constituted the archetypal individual upon whom the group depends appeared.
	People would still be motivated to do precisely the same thing.
	Okay, well then, the next thing, which I really don't have time to go into in much detail, so you'll have to read this, but this will give you some intonation of at least what was going on.
	Look, I've been Well, it's been my position, fundamentally, that people have paid an insufficient amount of attention to Jung's writings.
	Well, they're confusing, that's for sure.
	I give some reasons why that might be the case in the manuscript.
	Most of his students were women.
	Most of them were outside of the academic tradition.
	He discussed religious imagery to a large degree.
	And psychology tends to shy away from any religious imagery because it's a very young scientist and it's just dissociated itself from philosophy.
	It's dominated by materialists, way more materialists in psychology than there are in physics, for example.
	There's all sorts of reasons.
	It's certainly the case with Jung's early writings, but it's even more dramatically the case with his later writings, and all his later writings deal with alchemy, and nobody's been able to figure out what the hell he was talking about, why he spent all his time trying to decipher these alchemical writings, but what Jung was trying to outline was the symbolic representations of the internal process that occurs when people do
	precisely what my nephew in this dream said that he should do, which is to say, what are the consequences of You can put it all sorts of different ways.
	What are the consequences of admission of error?
	Or what are the consequences of identification with the hero?
	Or what are the consequences of the adoption of the stance of religious humility?
	Because all those things pile together and actually constitute the same phenomena.
	And what Jung said was, well, it's possible for people to undergo revolutions in their cognitive structures.
	We know that from Thomas Kuhn.
	Much later, by the way.
	So this is not only true for empirical structures, but also for moral structures.
	We know that's the case, and people have updated their views of the world over and over, Well, what Jung was trying to point out was that this could actually happen within an individual and not only that it could happen but that it had happened many times in the past and there were symbolic representations of all the stages of this particular process and most of them are going to be pretty familiar to you already because I've been trying to make reference to them all the time in the diagrams that I've been using Jung basically stated that there were five sequences
	of events Frequently intermingled in terms of the narrative structure that characterized alchemy.
	So what were the alchemists trying to do?
	Well, they were people who, possessed by an intimation of the insufficiency of the Church's representation of reality, followed their notion that there was still value to be apprehended in the interpretation and discovery of matter.
	The alchemists were the first scientists, in a sense, not from the empirical perspective, because they didn't have an experimental methodology, but from the standpoint of interest, because they were the first people who were willing to posit that in this huge domain that had essentially been outlawed as heretical by the Church, something of interest still might be there to be found.
	He said, well, look, you know, the Church says, as a consequence of these historical events, humanity is being redeemed, The alchemists, you might say, looked around and said, well, if this redemption has taken place, things are still in pretty sad shape, so maybe there's something more going on here that might meet the eye.
	Well, they become interested in...
	See, what Jung was trying to do is to explain why it was that we developed science, especially why it developed in Europe.
	What were the historical precedents to the explosion of science in the last 500 years?
	Following the reasonably logical hypothesis that something of that magnitude was likely prepared by at least several centuries of previous thought, rather than just coming out of nowhere all of a sudden and only in one culture.
	The first thing that preceded the development of science was the notion that the pursuit of Knowledge about material might, in fact, be valuable.
	So that's a hypothesis.
	That's the hypothesis that under life science is that if you investigated the transformations of the material world, you might find some information of value.
	Jung said, well, this first popped up in the form of what might be regarded as a kind of cultural dream.
	And the dream was the dream of the Philosopher's Stone, which was that there was a material substance that, if you only possessed it, would grant all of your wishes.
	And you could say, well, what is it that motivates science?
	Well, this is why Jung thought that science was still embedded in a mythological format.
	He said, that's what motivates us.
	At the bottom, we're convinced that if we can just find out enough about the way things are made, that we won't have to get old anymore, and we won't have to get sick anymore, and there'll be enough for everyone.
	And, well, that seems like a perfectly reasonable hypothesis, as far as I can tell.
	Anyways, he tried out.
	Now, the other thing that Jung pointed out, however, and this is, I suppose, where the argument gets very, very complicated, is that what the alchemists set out to investigate was not matter as we conceive it, because they didn't know what matter was as we conceive it.
	They didn't even have a way of representing it, lacking entirely in empirical methodology for what they were actually out to explore was the unknown.
	Part of which was matter in the material world from the medieval perspective.
	Jung basically made the point that what the alchemist did was posit that the notions of the church, which is the group identity basically, were not complete, were insufficient.
	Which is to say that Jung posited that the alchemist was someone who was willing to admit to himself that The manner in which the world had been interpreted was not complete, which is to say that there was still something left.
	So you could say, well, he regarded himself as something that was still ignorant, and also the church community, which was essentially totalitarian or as totalitarian a structure as could be imagined, was nonetheless incomplete.
	And Jung said, well, it was merely the process of that presupposition, which is, I don't know everything, maybe there's still something left to explore, necessarily produced an identity of the alchemist with the hero.
	What they were doing was acting out the role of the hero.
	And you said, well, whenever you do that, certain things happen.
	And those things are expressed in alchemical symbolism.
	And what happens when you do up the role of the hero?
	Well, we already know that.
	There's admission that unknown information exists.
	The information comes in.
	It blows the structure of your previous worldview.
	You descend into a situation that's characterized by emotional chaos.
	The consequence of processes that occur in that state of chaos is a reconstruction of a new worldview.
	How was that represented in alchemy?
	The first stages were represented either by the primate material or the descent of the king.
	Now, you guys should know enough about symbolism to start to understand what this means.
	He said, well, what happens to you when you first admit that something that meant everything to you might not be complete?
	He said, well, that can be represented in two ways, depending on what stage of the process you're in.
	It can even be represented by the death of the king.
	Or by your identity with what was called in alchemy the prima materia, which is basically chaos.
	The dragon of chaos.
	And you can see, well, those two things are the same.
	Why?
	Well, it's because the descent of the king, the descent of the king in the underworld, or the death of the king, or the desolation of the king.
	And remember, the alchemists, they were trying to explain things like why matter would dissolve, say, in salt water and mercury.
	Well, it's a weird mixture of quasi-empirical speculation and metaphysical theorizing.
	Remember, the alchemists didn't have any scientific techniques, so all they could do when they were manipulating the material world, which was demonic by church association, was use their fantasies.
	And what were their fantasies for?
	Well, that's mythology, Christian mythology.
	That was their worldview, fundamentally.
	So, of course, that's how they saw everything.
	It's all they knew.
	That's the dragon of chaos, the prima materia, the source of all things.
	Well, in the medieval view, the prima materia was not just something material.
	It was much more akin to these mythological notions of the dragon that we've discussed, because the alchemist said, well, whatever the world comes from is a weird intermingling of all those things that will eventually become society, the individual soul, and matter.
	Which is, I think, an unbelievably sophisticated perspective, because...
	Well, that's something you'll have to think about on your own.
	But it is the case that whatever the source of all things is, is that thing which in time turns into the subject and the object, plus society at large.
	Now, we tend to think of that thing as something purely material, but that's because we make the presupposition that whatever we are as subjects is something that's reducible.
	To whatever is purely material.
	And I would say, well, that might be true, but if it is the case that whatever we are is reducible to something material, by the time we figure out how that relationship exists, the way we interpret matter will be completely different from the way we interpret it now.
	And that's one thing that really argues against a simple-minded material reductionism, is the presupposition that you understand the phenomena to which you're reducing everything, which you don't.
	Clearly.
	Anyways.
	All these stages, they're descriptions of this process.
	The k.
	The death of the king produces immersement in chaos.
	That was also described as the negrado, which is an interesting stage.
	It's often represented in alchemical symbolism as an old man who's black, who looks very close to death, sitting in a pit, like breathing out a raven.
	It's symbolic of anxiety and depression, fundamentally.
	More than that, also emotional chaos.
	And all Ewan was trying to point out in his analysis of alchemy was that if you lose a moral philosophy, your emotions become dysregulated, and you're swamped with anxiety and depression.
	The alchemists regarded that as a state in this process of transformation, not as a final state necessarily, but it's the kind of thing that Nietzsche's describing when he talks about standing at the edge of the cliff and looking off into the abyss.
	Well, that's the abyss.
	The chaos is represented by the dragon, also by the queen of chaos.
	That was my representation anyways.
	I said, well, the notion here was that the thing that was to be dissolved and the solvent, the king and chaos, could be represented as a king and a queen.
	The queen sort of Making reference to the sort of matriarchal symbolism that we've talked about in the past.
	And it was the union of those two things that would produce a new structure.
	And that's an idea that's very much like the old Egyptian idea of Osiris going into the underworld.
	Or the idea that the Egyptians have that the Egyptian pharaoh was simultaneously the old dead pharaoh and the new pharaoh.
	Which is to say that If you have a particular philosophical viewpoint, which is the manner in which you ascribe affective value to your environment, and it dissolves, all things that you had classified are no longer classifiable, and you're swamped as a consequence, swamped with anxiety and depression, which are two emotional phenomena that that whole classification system was erected to inhibit to begin with.
	When that system blows itself apart, those emotions come back up.
	And how do you construct a new system?
	Well, you use the anomalous information that's blown your old system apart, plus everything that you had known before, to erect something new.
	And the alchemist symbolized that was the union of the king of order and the queen of chaos.
	A sexual union.
	A notion that makes allusion to incest symbolism.
	And their offspring, the divine son, was the new state of order.
	Well, the alchemists associated that with the Philosopher's Stone.
	Everything, either a permanent state of order or a permanent state of redemption, or the process that gives rise to that, which is the aspect that we're more interested in.
	I'm sure that's much too great for discussion to do justice to Jung's ideas, but they can't really be summarized rapidly.
	Can I just ask you one thing about Jung?
	One thing that's always interested me with his theory is the idea of the union of I take essentially, given the context of the theory of this class, I take the union of opposites to be sort of a creation of a stable hierarchy of goals.
	Yeah, yes.
	But those goals are essentially separate things in competition?
	I mean, if they're not organized?
	Yeah, because they're dominated by different affects often.
	Why did he characterize it as a union of opposites?
	Because the fact that they're in competition doesn't necessarily mean that they're in a structure where you have exactly one opposed to another.
	Did he get that out of symbolism, I guess, but at the same time, why isn't it represented more in terms of sort of a chaotic Competition rather than in terms of opposites.
	That's a good question.
	Well, I think it's mostly because He viewed the competition of opposites more from the perspective of the mythological structures that we've discussed, where things are held in opposite.
	There's the positive aspect of the creative unknown and the negative aspect, and the positive aspect of the known and the negative.
	There's clearly a structure of opposites there.
	But if you take the biological perspective that what Jung is referring to is the integration of different affect-driven Philosophies, in a sense, then the notion that they're in opposition breaks down to some degree.
	You know, there's still a certain amount of...
	Would you say it was accurate to guess that they were, that it's represented that way, simply because that's an easy way to view conflicting things, is in terms of, I mean, just a simple opposition?
	It's more than that, too, though, because, like, let's say that...
	Let's say that the two things you want in a given situation conflict with one another.
	So that means you value one thing and you value another.
	You're in love with someone and they don't like your job.
	So those are two affectively driven Philosophies, in a sense, structures of value, that are brought into conflict as a consequence of a new situation.
	In those situations, those forces would war in opposition, and that's part of the reason why this is always represented as opposing forces.
	You don't have a conflict until you have a conflict of duty.
	You have a conflict of duty when one thing you think is important and valuable and morally appropriate Conflicts very powerfully with another thing that you think is valuable and morally appropriate.
	Then you're caught in the war, torn apart by these two flaws.
	Now, one of the things Jung was trying to point out was that Your structure of valuation, the fact that you love this person, the fact that you value this job, are structures that have developed as a consequence of an incredibly lengthy historical process.
	And even the notion of love, although it might be rooted in certain biological predispositions, is a cultural construct that's developed over thousands and thousands of years, that's fed in part, for example, by the notions of...
	What's the medieval notion?
	The medieval notion of gallantry.
	Chivalry.
	Right.
	I mean, love is a construction in part.
	Why are you so attracted to your job in that particular circumstance?
	Well, it's very complicated.
	The job is being ascribed values as a consequence of all sorts of processes.
	It's your way of holding anxiety and depression at bay.
	It's part of the way that you ascribe determinate meaning to the world.
	It's part of a larger social structure.
	When you put those forces in opposition in a given circumstance, or when they conflict in a given circumstance, you're torn apart as a consequence of their conflict.
	That makes you the pawn of the gods, so to speak.
	What Jung was trying to describe in his alchemical sequences is the process by which all these conflicting hierarchies of value could be brought into one internally coherent story.
	The story he was trying to represent, he said, well, by the end of the alchemical period, the more psychologically sophisticated alchemists were drawing an analogy between whatever the hell the philosopher's stone was and Christ, which is a very peculiar thing since they had more or less left the church in order to pursue this process to begin with.
	And what does that mean?
	Well, the philosopher's stone It was the thing that represented that thing that's of ultimate value.
	And in Christian mythology, that's also what Christ represents.
	So it's not very surprising that they would end up falling into the same category, so to speak, because it was the existence of that category that gave rise to both those concrete examples anyways.
	Well, the question is, what the hell does this represent?
	Which is what we're trying to get at painfully It might be regarded as the continual process by which particular answers to the philosophical question, what is the good, are generated.
	It's like, here's one philosophical schema, new information blows it apart, it's replaced by another one that's theoretically more complete, new information comes in and blows it apart, and so on and so forth.
	Always, never-ending.
	He says, well, how do you get out of that?
	Well, we said months ago, look, you pop out of identification with any of the states, which is adolescent identification with an ideology anyways under all circumstances, and you start to identify with the process.
	Which is the process of voluntary encounter with the unknown, descent into this chaotic state, and reconstruction.
	He says, well, we only have two modes of protection against the unknown.
	One is identification with a particular system of beliefs.
	Yes, by which chaos itself can be transformed into order.
	He was saying, well, this constant, and this is represented in various ways in mythology, sometimes as the philosopher's stone, sometimes as the figure of a given prophet like Moses, sometimes as Christ, sometimes as Buddha.
	What it's supposed to represent is identification with the process of adaptation and not the outcome.
	What Jung is concerned with is the hierarchical structuring of value systems.
	That's what he means by the union of opposites.
	Well, what Jung said was, look, there's only one answer to the problem of what's more important than what else.
	Which is to say, there's only one answer, in a sense, to the problem of how values should be hierarchically organized.
	And his answer was, essentially, the thing that's at...
	The pyramid of the hierarchy of values should be the process by which the whole hierarchy is constructed.
	And that means everything should be subordinate to it.
	So when you read, for example, in the New Testament, notions that say it's more difficult for a rich man to...
	It's easier for a rich man to go through the eye of a needle than to enter into the kingdom of heaven.
	What the story means is, if you think...
	That security, which means, how do I deal with death?
	How do I deal with old age?
	How do I deal with sickness?
	Can be found, if you think that money, material possessions for that matter, can provide you with the kind of security that you want, which is security in the face of all those terrible things, you're wrong!
	Because it won't work.
	And furthermore, if you put The desire for money, which is security, basically.
	Above all else, you'll necessarily sacrifice identification with the only process that could, in the final analysis, offer you the kind of protection that you're needing.
	So it's not going to work.
	There's an assumption here that order is a good thing.
	Well, there's an assumption here that order is a good thing.
	That's the problem with these states is that is their assumption.
	Order is good.
	Chaos isn't.
	That's wrong.
	Right.
	See, okay, so then you get to that point and what an unresolved issue I have is that, okay, if you place yourself, the ultimate goal is the identification with the heroic process.
	Well, I don't see how if you actively move toward the unknown, look into that which we are all capable of.
	So I see I am capable of evil, I am capable of killing someone, I am capable of all these things.
	How does that fit into that framework so basically?
	Well, part of what it does immediately is expand your notion of what it is that you are and also perhaps bring up capabilities that you would be unwilling to use or even unwilling to admit to at times In situations where they might be appropriate.
	For example, it may be that in order to survive optimally, whatever that means, that you might have to have access to a whole realm of aggressive impulses, the existence of which you're not even willing to admit.
	So I say, well, if you can actually come to grips with the fact that your behavioral capacities are much broader on the negative side than you might on the negative side as you define it, than you might have ever been willing to admit, then you can also start to understand that you may have capabilities that you have not even yet begun to explore.
	And it's certainly the case that although aggression can be used in all sorts of ways that appear clearly negative, that there's any number of situations where the capacity to maintain your ground or even to move forward in the face of tremendous opposition is absolutely necessary to you.
	So that would be one part of the example.
	It's also the case that until you're capable of at least Conceiving conceptually of how significant the errors that you're making might be, you haven't got a hope in hell of doing anything about them.
	You can't even see that they're there.
	You say, well, I'm not the sort of person that would ever do anything like that, which is, of course, just patently, patently ridiculous.
	So once you see that you are capable of killing someone or are capable of, you know, aggressive behavior, It almost makes you not the hero not to act upon those aggressive instincts.
	I mean, there may be some certain cases where it may be rational to kill someone.
	Yes, that's right.
	Look, that's actually absolutely right.
	You know, if you're four years or six years old and you go to the playground and the nine-year-old pounds you flat, you can't go home thinking, oh, well, I did the right thing.
	I was nonviolent.
	Because the reason you were nonviolent is because you got pounded flat.
	Now, it's a different situation entirely if you go out somewhere and you have the capability of truly aggressive response and you're provoked and you don't manifest it.
	Well, then that's a different circumstance.
	But the mere lack of ability to respond in a negative way is no indication whatsoever of any morality.
	That's why Nietzsche said, you know, standard morality is cowardice.
	It wasn't because he thought all morality equals cowardice.
	It's because much of what passes, or much of what people define to themselves as their own morality, is just their own cowardice.
	That's part of the reason why figures like the gangster are so popular in American mythology.
	Because they act out what everyone would actually like to do, so to speak, but is too moral, which isn't the case at all, too cowardly to do.
	Now, there's positive...
	How can you simultaneously say that...
	The person who denies this within them is evil and yet killing is evil.
	How can you say those two things?
	I didn't say the latter.
	That's what I'm trying to get at.
	Are we trying to say here that killing is evil?
	Look, there's only one way to answer that question, I guess, and that is one of the things that's constantly referred to in hero mythologies is the fact that you shouldn't break a traditional rule.
	Okay, so that answers that question.
	It's wrong.
	But then there's a problem with that in that traditional rules, as listed, are not a sufficient and complete guide to adaptation.
	So then the question is, well, under what circumstances is it reasonable to break a rule?
	Well, that's a different issue.
	And so, in the broad sense, you can say, well, you know, do you want to be good?
	Well, then you follow the Ten Commandments.
	I mean, they're the rules upon which most civilized societies are structured.
	Fine.
	But there are situations in which The rules conflict, for example, or where perhaps they're not necessarily applicable.
	Well, under those circumstances, then what can guide your morality?
	Well, that's the question that we're trying to answer here, because we also need to know if this is the theory, so to speak, what's the practical implication, because that's one thing that you need to know.
	I mean that's the only reason that any of these stories have any relevance to begin with.
	Well, it's your attitude towards anomalous information in large part that determines your morality.
	So let's see if we can figure out what that means.
	First of all, I would say, look, it's the case that You might ask yourself the question, does life have any meaning?
	Well, that's a question that people often ask themselves.
	And I would say, well, what is it that you mean by that?
	Well, what does meaning mean?
	Well, for me, it means implication for action.
	I mean, that's what we mean when we say meaning, or we mean emotional significance.
	And then I would say, well, so we're going to look at the structure of emotional significance.
	Well, what does anomalous information produce?
	Well, anxiety.
	Especially if it's involuntary.
	Hope.
	Problem.
	Hope.
	Interest.
	Isn't that interesting means that has some significance for my behavior or the way that I interpret things that I've never considered before?
	Let's see.
	I'm going to read the last three pages of this and that will pretty much do us in.
	Interest is meaning.
	Meaning is the manifestation of the divine, which is the individual adaptive path.
	Pursuit of interest necessarily exposes the individual to mortal and social limitations.
	What does that mean?
	Well, if you watch your experience, there are going to be phenomena that appear to you as if they're meaningful.
	I would say they attract your interest.
	You can watch yourself.
	Your interest will be attracted by them, not even of your own accord, so to speak, just by the fact that those phenomena, for reasons that you might not understand, produce an orienting response in your, heighten your interest.
	Well, I would say that that's evidence of the manifestation of the unknown, so to speak, from within the perspective of your particular philosophical framework.
	It says if you follow those things that appear to you as meaningful, Which is what you want to do anyways, because it is the case that that is the sort of thing that people want to do, virtually by definition.
	What will happen is you'll end up participating in the process that Jung described, which is to say that if you hold on to your interest and don't let it go despite all the social pressure that you'll find not to do it, because you're supposed to be doing the thing that everyone else says is useful, and the fact that it's going to expose to you all sorts of things that you didn't understand to begin with.
	What if I find it immensely interesting to cut to...
	Well, no, no, this is...
	Absolutely, absolutely.
	We will definitely discuss that.
	I mean, that's...
	Look, there's two poles to this, obviously.
	You know, it's like Joseph Campbell.
	He says, follow your bliss, right?
	Well, then the first thing that pops into the head of a good paranoid is exactly what Daniel popped up.
	It's like, what if my interest is serial killing?
	Because if you read...
	If you read accounts of serial killers, for example, what you find very rapidly is that they're very interested in what they were doing.
	So if you're very interested, they couldn't start doing it, and their interest expanded as they continued to pursue the territory.
	So you say, well, obviously, interest in and of itself is not a sufficient guide because interest can manifest itself within the confines of a personality that's so pathological that it in and of itself is a signpost for pathology.
	And I would say, well...
	That's why we concentrated so much on this.
	If you fill your head up with garbage, what it labels as interesting is no longer going to be healthy.
	And so there's two poles to this sort of moral process that we've been describing.
	One is, do what you're interested in.
	Make sure you do what you're interested in.
	The second thing is, don't lie to yourself.
	Because if you lie to yourself, you're going to warp the mechanism that produces interest as a phenomenon.
	Because we already know, look, we already know what What occurs to you as anomalous, or what pops up in your phenomenological field as meaningful, is going to be dependent very much on the philosophical theory that you bring to bear on the event.
	Your goals, the ends you have in mind, and so on and so forth, determine the significance of phenomena.
	The only way you can ensure that those structures are healthy is if their existence accounts for all of the experience that you've actually had in the past.
	Which is to say that you've constantly modified and updated your worldview.
	To account for all of the experience that you've had.
	But if you don't do that, You're living within a philosophy that's twisted off-center, precisely to the degree that you've twisted it off-center.
	The more that it's twisted, the more that whole structure is going to produce intimations of meaning where they shouldn't be.
	And then if you follow those, they'll lead you places that perhaps you would have never really wanted to go.
	Or maybe, deeply unconsciously, perhaps leading you exactly where you wanted to go.
	It depends on how you look at it.
	So there's two poles.
	One is, When it comes right down to it, the only thing that you have to rely on is the phenomena of meaning.
	You know when it occurs and when it doesn't.
	If you're immersed in something you really love, one of the phenomena might be that self-consciousness vanishes.
	That's one thing you can see about performers who are really great, if they're really immersed in what they're doing, is that they're very attractive because they've mastered that domain so well that they pay absolutely no attention to themselves as phenomena while they're doing whatever it is that they're doing.
	Another thing is, if you're immersed in that, then your notion of time tends to disappear.
	So you can be working very hard on whatever it is that you're interested in and look at and say, well, where did all the time go?
	And I would say, well, that's another indication that that phenomenon is producing an antidote to self-consciousness.
	Because a big aspect of self-consciousness is the tick-tick-tick-tick of the consciousness of time.
	What pops you out of that?
	Well, it's meaning.
	And where does meaning manifest itself?
	Well, it manifests itself on the border between order and chaos.
	And the reason it does that is because that's where all the adaptive processes are taking place.
	That's where you have to be operating in order to ensure that the phenomena that you use to interpret the world, or the structures you use to interpret the world, are constantly being updated, and also that those of your society are constantly being updated.
	Because after all, I discover something and then I tell it to you.
	So that means that the individual process of creative exploration updates the social world as well.
	It's not a simple matter of...
	Well, the other thing, Campbell's statement, for example, is follow your bliss.
	Well, this strikes me as quite one-sided, in a sense, as well.
	And I guess that's the problem with New Age philosophy.
	I mean, that's why I like Jung's works on alchemy.
	They said, look, you look where you don't want to look.
	Now, if someone tells you that, it strikes me that maybe you could believe that.
	It seems realistic to me, rather than a message that says, well, if you do in some simplistic sense, whatever makes you happy, that's perfectly fine.
	So Jung is stating, through his analysis of this alchemical process, that if you pay attention to what you find meaningful, it will take you to the place where you would least likely want to go first.
	Well not because of the necessity of this process emerging The abandonment of meaning ensures the adoption of a demonic mode of adaptation Because the individual hates pointless pain and frustration And will work towards destruction of its source
	This work constitutes his revenge against existence, which his pride has rendered unbearable.
	Rebirth is re-establishment of interest after adoption of culturally determined competence.
	This rebirth makes the individual as practically adapted as anyone in history and as motivated as he has courage to be.
	The rebirth of interest moves man to the border between the known, culture, and the unknown, nature, and thereby expands his adaptive competence, his and the world's.
	In this manner the domain of history is expanded.
	This capability for extension is the manifestation of God within the individual in the modern world.
	Socialization should allow the individual to devote the power of history to the act of exploration.
	Interest manifested in the absence of self-deceit places each of us on the border of the unknown and removes the tragedy from temporality.
	The pursuit of subjective interest inevitably brings each individual into contact with his own fears.
	Such contact may occur in the social sphere, when expression of individuality conflicts with normative behavior, or in the sphere of the absolutely unknown, when pursuit of individual interest takes man beyond the cultural canon and places him against the forces that govern mortality and limitation per se.
	The heroic mode of being is predicated upon the assumption that something divine exists within the individual, that is capable of manifesting itself when called upon, when necessary.
	This is individual possibility that rises to meet the challenge presented by life.
	Without faith in the heroic, challenge must be avoided.
	From the practical viewpoint, this means the abandonment of subjectivity and the search for security.
	This choice eliminates the possibility for further personal development and increases the likelihood of fanatic identification with history or adoption of outright destructiveness.
	Self-consciousness means knowledge of individual vulnerability.
	The process by which this knowledge comes to be can destroy faith and individual worth.
	What this means in concrete terms is that in the course of development, an individual may come to sacrifice his own experience because its pursuit creates social conflict or exposes individual inadequacy.
	However, it is only through such conflict that change takes place, and weakness must be recognized before it can be transformed into strength.
	This means that the sacrifice of individuality eliminates any possibility that individual strength can be discovered or developed, and that history itself can progress.
	Individuals whose life is without meaning hate themselves for their weakness, and hate life for making them weak, this hatred manifests itself in identification with destructive power, in its mythological, historical, and biological manifestations, and in desire for the absolute extinction of existence.
	Such identification leads man to poison whatever he touches, to generate unnecessary misery in the face of inevitable suffering, to turn his fellows against themselves, to intermingle earth with hell, merely to attain vengeance upon God and his creation.
	The human purpose, if such a thing can be considered, is to pursue meaning, to extend the domain of light and consciousness in spite of limitation.
	A meaningful event exists on the boundary between security and novelty, The pursuit of meaning exposes the individual to the unknown in gradual fashion, allowing him to develop strength and adaptive ability in proportion to the seriousness of his pursuit.
	It is during contact with the unknown that human power grows, individually and then historically.
	Meaning is the subjective experience associated with that contact in sufficient proportion.
	The great religious myths state that continued pursuit of meaning, adopted voluntarily and without self-deception, will lead the individual to discover his identity with God and to be thereby capable of withstanding the tragedy of life.
	Abandonment of such meaning reduces man to his mortal weaknesses.
	This makes him hate life and work towards its elimination.
	It could be said that meaning is the most profound manifestation of instinct.
	So that's why I think Adam hid from God in the Garden of Eden.
	Man is a creature attracted by the unknown and adapted for its conquest.
	The subjective sense of meaning is the instinct governing rate of contact with the unknown.
	Too much exposure turns change to chaos, and too little promotes stagnation and degeneration.
	The appropriate balance produces a powerful individual, confident in the ability to withstand life, ever more able to deal with nature and society, and ever closer to the heroic ideal.
	Each individual, constitutionally unique, Finds meaning in different pursuits if he has the courage to maintain his difference.
	Manifestation of individual diversity, transformed into knowledge that can be transferred socially, changes the face of history itself and moves each generation of man farther into the unknown.
	Social and biological conditions define the boundaries of individual existence.
	The unfailing pursuit of interest provides the subjective means by which these conditions can be met and their boundaries transcendent.
	Meaning is the instinct that makes life possible.
	When it is abandoned individuality loses its redemptive power.
	The great lie is that meaning does not exist or that it is not important.
	When meaning is denied, hatred for life and the wish for its destruction inevitably rules.
	If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.
	If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.
	The wisdom of the group can serve as a force that mediates between the dependency of childhood and the responsibility of the adult.
	This makes history the power that serves the individual.
	A society predicated upon belief in the divinity of the individual allows individual interests to flourish and to serve as the force that opposes the tyranny of culture and the terror of nature.
	The denial of meaning, by contrast, ensures absolute identification with the group, or intra-psychic degeneration if such identification fails.
	The denial of meaning makes the individual desperate when the validity of his identification is challenged and the great maternal sea of chaos threatens.
	His weakness makes him hate life as well and to work for its devastation in him as well as in those around him.
	The lie is the central act in this drama of corruption.
	These are the secret sayings which the living Jesus spoke and which Didymos Judas Thomas wrote down.
	This is from the Nag Hammadi Library.
	And he said, Whoever finds the interpretation of these sayings will not experience death.
	Christ said, Let him who seeks continue seeking until he finds.
	When he becomes troubled, he will be astonished, and he will rule over the all.
	Jesus said, If those who lead you say to you, See, the kingdom is in the sky, then the birds of the sky will precede you.
	If they say to you, It is in the sea, then the fish will precede you.
	Rather, the kingdom is inside of you, and it is outside of you.
	When you come to know yourselves, then you will become known, and you will realize that it is you who are the sons of the living Father.
	But if you will not know yourselves, you dwell in poverty, and it is you who are that poverty.
	Christ said, The man old in days will not hesitate to ask a small child seven days old about the place of life, and he will live.
	For many who are first will become last, and they will become one and the same.
	Christ said, Recognize what is in your sight, and that which is hidden from you will become plain to you.
	For there is nothing hidden which will not become manifest.
	His disciples questioned him and said to him, Do you want us to fast?
	How shall we pray?
	Shall we give alms?
	What diet shall we observe?
	Christ said, Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate, for all things are plain in the sight of heaven.

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