Once Upon A Time Men Were Possessed

My Mandalas Were Cryptograms Concerning The State Of The Self Which Was Presented To Me Anew Each Day...i Guarded Them Like Precious Pearls....it Became Increasingly Plain To Me That The Mandala Is The Center. It Is The Exponent Of All Paths. It Is The Path To The Center, To Individuation.

...it Seemed To Me I Was Living In An Insane Asylum Of My Own Making. I Wnt About With All These Fantastic Figures: Centaurs, Nymphs, Satyrs, Gods And Goddesses, As Though They Were Patients And I Was Analyzing Them. I Read A Greek Or Negro Myth As If A Lunatic Were Telling Me His Anamnesis.

The Least Of Things With A Meaning Is Worth More In Life Than The Greatest Of Things Without It.

Securities, Certitudes And Peace Do Not Lead To Discoveries.

The Term "self" Seems A Suitable One For The Unconscious Substrate Whose Actual Exponent In Consciousness Is The Ego. The Ego Stands To The Self As The Moved To The Mover, Or As Object To Subject, Because The Determining Factors That Radiate Outward From The Self Surround The Ego On All Sides And Are Therefore Supraordinate To It. The Self, Like The Unconscious, As An A Priori Existent Out Of Which The Ego Evolves. It Is, So To Speak, An Unconscious Prefiguration Of The Ego. It Is Not I Who Create Myself; Rather, I Happen To Myself.