What this tells us is that there is a season for everything: a time to long, a time to belong, a time to be home, and time to leave; and all these are different faces of the one.
The journey to the self,
We lack heroes and have traded authentic, genuine love for artificial substitutes. We have an excess of idols, too many champions of conquest, adorable queens of attraction, plenty of glamour and glitter, and pseudo-romantic infatuations projected onto the screens of modern entertainment. do we "love" these stars or are we idolized parasites of our own inner potential? Disappointed with the routine of daily life, with neccessities and responsibilities, we begin to "love" the substitutions, the constant intoxication with illusions that gradually degrade our dedication to appreciate what and who is actually present, providing us with an opportunity to love Sustained devotion, responsible commitment, and an inspired imagination can guide us closer to the elusive mystery of love, but addiction to grandiose spectacles on screens impoverishes this capacity.
Life seems to cease sometimes,
turns dark, stands still, stays frozen.
We dread these difficult, dire days
when our zest for life becomes self-disgust
and grabs us by our despised throat,
spews spiteful charges against us and God.
<in 'The Miracle of Love'>
<My Misery>
My misery comes from my great talent
to wear too many masks too well.
I learned to deceive every one, myself included.
I became a master manipulator of my feelings.
No true song could reach my heart.
Behind each step I take lurks a shrewd scheme.
I know the source of all my suffering.
I have traced it to my innermost core:
Even my heartbeat is controlled and calculated.
I make sure no dream's deep, dark foreboding,
no imprisoned passion, no stirring sorrow
can break through this armor to my soul.
the growing group of "dreamers," to muster the courage to walk on our path with trust:
In the end all art and especially poetry has only a raison d'être (존재이유) if it offers more than entertainment, but has a direct effect on life, provides solace, clarification, counsel, aid and fortification in life's struggles and helps overcome what is difficult in life.
The despotism of pragmatism, the facism of efficiency, and the addiction to unlimited desires leave the body distraught, the heart frozen, the spirit denied, and the soul starving. (skip)
the bard's role as a guide toward insight, toward the conscious life beyond materialistic and hedonistic goals, to an appreciation of the sanctity and inherent diginity of all life (skip) The poet is not a court jester, not an aesthetic garnish on the loaded plate of greed and desire.
Poets and philosophers, if they do not sell out to please, but have the courage to be themselves, represent the most precious and dangerous models a culture can have. They don't supply a readymade set of duties and doctrines to be followed, but they show and teach the opposite: the path to individuality and personal conscience.
It is an old, uneven battle between criticism and creativity, between science and art, whereby the former is always right without serving anyone and the latter again and again sows the seeds of faith, love, solace and a sense of the eternal falling on a fertile soil. Because life is stronger than death and faith is stronger than doubt.
the fast, dazzling intoxication of the senses that results in quick-acting overstimulation and a quick-acting distraction called "fun." But, as Hesse warns us: "The excessive emphasis on the fast-paced instant way of life is undoubtedly the most dangerous enemy of joy. As much as possible, as fast as possible, its motto. It leads to more and more fun and less and less joy."
Between 1904 and 1912 he lived in a rural setting in Gaienhofen on Lake Constance, where he built his own house. Reading good books and a walk in the woods alternated and filled Hesse's daily schedule throughout his years.
It would be impossible for me to declare whether this cloudy sky, quietly moving by itself in these manyfold forms is producing a mirror in my soul or whether it is the other way around. I see this sky as an image of my inner movements.
<To a Leaf Wilting>
Every blossom wants to become fruit.
Every morning turns into evening without regret.
Nothing on earth is eternal
except change, except taking leave.
The most splendid summer
yearns fade into fall.
Oh, autumn leaf, be still and yielding
when the wind wants to seize you.
Do not resist, be a player in the game.
Surrender to the change in motion.
Let yourself be broken, seized,
and blown to the next home.
I believe in spite of all its obvios absurdities, life nevertheless has a meaning. I surrender to my inability to comprehend the ultimate meaning of life, but I am willing to sense it, even if it requires sacrificing myself. You cannot force this faith on anyone, not even yourself, but it can become experience. The absence of this felt faith is usually replaced by beliefs in a church or in science or in patriotism or socialism, some kind of refuge where conventional moralities, conformist programs and standardized membership cards to organized social structures guarantee a false comfort, the illusion of security, an illusionary ticket to salvation.
Only at the end of his solitary journey will he realize that he joined a great, new, but invisible community which encompasses all cultures and all religions. (skip)
Our brothers in this invisible community are always available and ready to advise us. They are accessible by reaching for a book or making a few clicks on the internet. Rilke, Rumi, Kabir, St. Francis, Yeats, Ramkrishna, and T.S. Eliot
<Confession>
The games of glamour and glitter
I have played with gusto
Let others have goals and ambitions,
for me, living is enough.
Whatever has moved me
has all become a symbol.
I always feel the power of this moment,
the presence of boundless oneness in my life.
To make may life inspired and abundant
I read in life's open book of symbols
because now I have that depth within me.
My eternal, changless essence is at peace.
he continued to appreciate the blessings and challenges each phase of life brings and takes away.
Old age can "lead to lethargy, senility, an ugly indifference, but it can also shine forth differently in a given situation as serenity, patience, humour, deep wisdon and Tao." (skip) the timeless present.
In order to experience happiness you must become independent of time and with it independent of fear and hope. We read this or that and struggle for a while through the world of perennial problems, each of which can never be solved but only experienced, and in the end life always throws us back in a situation where we once attempt the seemingly impossible, where we engage in a seemingly hopeless task with new desire and new zeal.
<Departure>
I hear the train whistling
down in the valley green.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I too will be gone.
I pick a last bouquet of flowers randomly,
and they wilt already before I leave.
Parting is a bitter herb,
it grows in every place I loved.
Wherever I built a house,
I never found the peace of home.
I must find shelter in myself.
All other shells crumble fast.
Whenever I truly felt at home,
home soon became strange.
But deep in my heart
I carry a seed
that grows daily in silence.
When it is ripe, I will be home
and my restless pulse will find its rest.
(Poems and Italic types by Hesse, Regular types by Fischer)
- 'Defender of Soul'이라고 불리우는 헤세의 시를 엮어놓은 얇은 책.
그의 소설과는 사뭇 다른 느낌이나 그의 생각이 더 압축되어 간결한 언어로 표현되어 있는 것은 읽는 이에게 소설을 읽었을 때와는 또다른 감동을 가져오는 듯하다. 시간에 대한 수긍, 자신에 대한 끊임없는 성찰, 삶이란 거대한 문제를 포괄하는 자아와의 합일 등에서 어제와 내일의 사사로운 사건과 감정의 물결에서 떠나 거대한 인생의 대양을 바라볼 수 있도록 도와준다.
시대의 지성들에게 느끼는 것은 그들의 환경에 대한 통찰력, 자연에 대한 경외심, 삶에 대한 꿰뚫어 보는 눈 등이다. 어쩌면 카뮈나, 니체나, 헤세의 생각들이 그토록 닮아있는지 경이롭기까지 하다.
자아에 관하여, 나이듬에 관하여, 삶이란 길에 관하여, 더 명석하고 깊은 사고를 할 수 있도록 우리를 보이지 않는 시대를 초월한 그룹으로 이끌어주는 책.
머리맡에 놓고 몇 번씩을 들여다보다.
2013년 4월 20일 토요일
Jung's Seminar on Nietzsche's Zarathustra 중 - Edited by James L. Jarrett -
he leaves the controlled ordinary home conditions, the familiar psychology, and lifts himself up to a particularly high level where he enlarges his horizon, as sages go into such places for the sake of enlarging their consciousnes and their horizon, to detach themsleves from the chaos of events in order to see more clearly. Therefore the saying of Laotze: The one who detaches and sees from afar sees clearly. And there he possessed his spirit in solitude and for ten years did not weary of it.
- 융이 1934년에서 1939년까지 니체의 '차라투스트라'를 선택해서 세미나를 했던 것을 기록한 책이다. 실제 내용은 더 방대하지만 J. L. Jarett에 의해 abridged 된 것을 읽었다.
융의 사상은 동의할 수 있는 부분과 동의할 수 없는 부분이 있다. 특히 니체에 대한 해석에 있어서 나에게는 융이 너무도 그의 틀에 맞추어 모든 것을 끼워 넣으려고 하는 부분은 타당치 않게 느껴졌다. '의식'과 '무의식'의 이분법적인 사고와 'mystic'한 해석 등은 내가 동의할 수 없는 부분이다.
정신분석학자들은 빛을 총체적으로 인식하기 보다는 모든 빛에 프리즘을 들이대고 분광하여 그 분광된 색상들에 대해 해석하려고 하는 것처럼 느껴진다. 빛은 존재 그 자체, 그 자체로서의 밝음, 다른 사물을 이해하도록 비추어주는 존재로서 이해해야 하는 것이 내게는 더 올바른 방법으로 생각된다.
니체의 차라투스트라는 태양과도 같은 존재이다. 가까이 할 수도 없지만 그의 언어를 통해 자신을, 주변을 비추어 보게끔 한다. 초인으로의 의지와 인간으로서의 고독, 곳곳에 묻어나오는 니체의 고뇌와 그럼에도 불구하고 타오르는 의지. 그것을 어떻게 다른 말로써 다시 표현할 수 있을까? 그럼에도 매순간 '인간은 극복되어야 하는 존재'라는 말로 자신을 다잡는 마음을 이해할 수 없는가?
그러나, 세미나의 많은 부분은 니체와는 관련없는 자신의 사상에 대해서 설명하고 있다. 내가 융에 동의하는 부분들, 씨앗이 자라나기 위해 대지에 뿌리를 내려야만 하는 것, 새로운 단계로 나아가기 위해 과거에 대한 애착이나 집착에서 자유로워져야 하는 것, 두렵지만 무의식을 대면하고 무의식의 어두운 부분을 골라내어 무의식을 새로운 힘의 원천으로 변화시키는 것, 무의식의 급류 속에서 포기하지 않고 대항하는 것, 끝까지 헤엄치는 것, 집단과 사회에 매몰되지 않는 개인의 덕을 고양시키는 것, 다음 세대를 위해 사는 것이 아니라 지금 이순간의 나의 충만을 위해 노력할 것, 그러하면 아이들은 자연히 따라올 것 등.
융의 관점은 내가 잊고 있던 어떤 부분을 끄집어내어 적나라하게 제시하며 현실의 어두운 부분을 인정하고 그 위에서 성장할 수 있음을 알려준다. 모든 고귀한 것들은 정상에 있음을 알려주지만 그 정상에서 다른 정상으로 올라가기 위해서는 다시 내려와야 함을 인식시켜줌으로써 정신이 더 튼튼하게 성장하여 그 길을 오를 수 있도록 독려하고 있다.
현실에 발이 닿아 있는 것, 어찌 보면 그리 나쁜 것만은 아닌 듯 하다. 그러나 나무가 위로 자라듯 이상을 향해 뻗어나가는 것에 이의를 두지는 말기를.
a man who is always alone, as Nietzsche was, you realize that your own consciousness then begins stare into your own face. You are always your own speaker and your own listener, you are always looking into your own light, into your own eyes.
the eagel soars high, it is near the sun. It is a son of the sun-marvelous. The bird of light, it is the very high thought, the great enthusiasm.
he is the Phoenix that burns itself and rises out of its own ashes; he is the God that eternally re-creates himself.
It is impossible to create without destroying: a certain previous condition must be destroyed in order to produce a new one.
"Es ist Zeit, hochste Zeit." (It is time, the highest time.)
if one lives in a time when one is not meant to live, because one finds no understanding contemporaries.
Angelus Silesius was such a man; he lived in a time when he simply could not find his equal. (skip) He locked himself up literally in a monastary where he died. (skip) He (Nietzsche) was first a professor at the University of Basel, but he was not quite understood, so he locked himself away with his complex and lived isolated.
His human existence was quite apart from his philosophy, while in Nietzsche the two began to come together and in a very tragic way. So he goes really further than Schopenhauer whose philosophy is merely a mental affair, while Nietzsche feels that it concerns the whole man; to him it was his own immediate reality. It is impossible to be this on the one side and something entirely different on the other, to have a philosophy which has nothing to do with one's reality.
He trusts to the reaction of the healthy body. The healthy body is the healthy life, and the healthy life is the life of the soul of man as much as his body, because soul and body are not tow things. They are one.
So an intuitive concept is just a shot at something which we cannot grasp or formulate otherwise than by such a lucky shot; it is like trying to hit the famous silver thread suspended in a cloud.
in assimilating the unconscious, you increase the circumference of your bein to an unknown extent; moreover, you are including something in the totality of yourself which is not under your control; you can only control what is in consciousness.
It is as if you were ruler of a land which is only partially known to yourself; king of a country with an unknown number of inhabitants.
one misses in Zarathustra the concept of the unconscious; there is only the consciuos.
"By the light of the self" - the ultimate light.
Therefore we must be careful not to swim as if we were fishes, but remember that we are human; and we must not resisit by shutting ourselves up and defending ourselves blindly. The symbol of our time and the coming time is Aquarius,
For the culmination of life or the real meaning of life is not the greatest sum of happiness; only very naive people can believe such things. (skip) the really good life is half happiness and half suffereing. (skip) the beauty is beautiful and the ugliness is really ugly, and everything is in its place.
even if they see that the state buys them for the loss of their virtue as a sort of advertising. (skip)
The thing is only wrong whenhe sells his soul to the organization. But it is then bad for the organization too, for the good influence he could exert becomes a bad influence; he is the shining example of on who has sold his soul, and other people imitate him right away. They will sell their souls all the more readily. To be soulless is of course the great danger of any large organization, and it only has a soul inasmuch as a few individuals within it are brave or courageous enough to retain their own souls; if there is only one human soul in it, it has at least that human soul, which is always better than none at all. And isolated souls outside the organization have no power whatever, because they don't deal with the monster.
if we eat the bread of somebody we must also sing their song; (skip)
you make a fist in your pocket and wait. (skip) it is far more important to them to be in the church than to believe in the church;
(skip) They don't know what it is, even, but if they are in the sacred place, they are sanctified somehow; they see it, they hear it, they smell it, they are under the same roof - and that is enough.
because people need that feeling of totality. (skip) Through a kind of idealism he sells his soul without knowing it, devotes his soul to the state as if it were a god.
If anything really stinks, it is humanity.
So a great soul does not belong to the crowd, but must necessarily be outside the crowd;
He should be careful and even should seek a certain amount of solitude in order to maintain his isolation. But he would also be lost if he didn't know how to deal with the crowd.
but of a mental kind, and they do it in order to maintain their happy condition. An inflation is a wonderful thing: you are lifted up from the earth and fly in heaven, looking down benevolently upon the masses.
if he were actually alone one hour every day he would get crazy and melancholic. If you cannot stand yourself for any length of tiem, you may be sure that your room is full of animals - you develop an evil smell.
People are educated in that way. If you have trouble, cast it on Christ, as if he were the animal that caarries your burdens, a scapegoat for your sins; and if you feel hungry, eat him.
You see, people who can agree with themselves are like gold. They taste very good. All the flies are after them.
It is as if you became smaller and smaller and finally are a mere speck in an awfully extended cosmos, and then you either develop megalomania or become a nothingness.
Nietzsche is absolutely in the position of the creator of a world.
Yet to apperceive the situation is not the only task for consciousness. There is still more: you have to hold your own, to fight for your own existence in hte flood. If you simply go under, knowing that you are going under, you have not dealt with the situation. You have to swim, to use every means possible to defend you own against the flood - you must wrestle with those archetypes - and only wehn you are really up against it to the last breath, only then, the revelation may take place. But you cannot foresee how it is possible, so you have to show fight, to hold your own. Usually when archetypes come in, people just collapse - they are utterly afraid, completely gone. Then you can only take the broom and clean up the whole mess, or somebody has to hold them to enable them to stand up against it at all.
For Tao is of the nature of water; it always finds the deepest places and will of course undermine the weak spot;
For the seed is not the tree and the seed doesn't make the tree unless there is the black earth: the black substance is needed in order to create something in reality. (skip) The seeds can remain for a long time without growing if circumstances are unfavorable; (skip) The soil is needed: one could even the most important creative impulses come out of soil. It is as if it were contributing the power of growth;
(skip) we have the feeling of being soiled - even our feeling of cleanliness is against it. We don't want to be mixed up with that kind of psychology, existence of individual. Yet if you don't expose your conscious personality of the danger of being overwhelmed, you never grow. (skip) It even looks in many passages of Zarathustra exactly as if he were not meant to take rook, as if he were really taken away from the earth by a strong wind.
Nietzsche very correctly said that Christianity was a revolt of the slaves in the most realm. He hated Christianity, and surely the morale of slaves is not freedom: it means a new prison. Antiquity did not know the spiritual prison of the Middle Ages; such a condition never existed before in the worlds's history.
virtue is such a power that it can never be extinct. Therefore, it is like a star in that, though it may become extinct, yet on account of the infiniteness of space the ligth travels on. Whether he is able to see it depends upon the observer; if he is near, it will cease to be, but if he is at an infinite distance from the star it will shine eternally. You know, there are many stars in our universe that are extinct but we still see them. Too short a tiem has elaspsed - the light needs perhaps a million years to come here - so if a star has only been extinct ten thousand years, it might take a million more years before we could become aware that it no longer exist.
We only know where the center is, but we don't know where the circumference is. (중심은 의식 혹은 ego에 비유, 원주는 무의식 혹은 self를 가리킴.)
Nietzsche means is that virtue is nothing that can be taught or given or acquired; viertue is what you are, your strength.
That is the way in which the intuitive generally deals, not only with his problems but also with his life; he creates a situation and as soon as it is more or less established, then off he goes because it threatens to become a prison to him, so his life consists chiefly in movement, in discovering new possibilities.
So in order to be able to adapt, you must have that faithlessness to your memories and to all those you loved in the past, that innocent faithlessness. You have to drift away, forget what you are, and be unconscious of yourself if you want to adapt at all - up to a certain moment in your life. (새로운 삶, 혹은 새로운 단계로 나아가기 위해서는 과거에 대한 집착을 버려야만 함을 역설.) (skip)
you must sell yourself in order to live, so you must create a position which can be handed out to the world as a sort of value which you will be paid for. But that is no yourself really. It is what you have been, and when that thing vanishes, you find yourself in a sphere that always has been, but it was always unconscious up to the moment when you returned to it again.
The temper in which we live and work is the same as that of the Middle Ages only the name is different; it is no longer a spiritual subject, but is now called science.
Natuarally, it is impossible to realize the collective unconscious without being entirely dismembered or devoured, unless you have help, some strong link which fastens you down to reality so that you never forget that you are a human individueal liek other individuals. For as soon as you touch the collective unconscious you have an inflation - it is unavoidable - and then you soar into space, disappear into a cloud, become a being beyond human proportions. (skip) Nietzsche was alone with nobody to understand his experiences.
The fact is, when a man is in a crowd he is inferior, no matter what idea he may have about his greatness. The morality of a crowd is lower than the morality of each individual in the crowd. A crowd is overpowering naturally.
the good thing, the high thing, the virtue, is always an accomplishment, always a summit, and the summit leads no farther. Only when you are down below can you rise, as only after the summit can you descend. But if there is nothing below, you cannot descend.
Try to make it here and now, for yourself. That is good teaching. Then, the childeren will try to make it here and now for themselves (skip) At all events, you leave a good example of how to take care of themselves. If the parents can take care of themselves, the children will also. (skip) And so when a whole nation is torturing itself for the sake of the children, an inheritance of misery is all that they leave for the future, a sort of unfulfilled promise. So instead of saying, "I do it for the children - it may come off in the future." try to do it for yourself here and now. Then you will see whether it is possible or not.
He should be careful and even should seek a certain amount of solitude in order to maintain his isolation. But he would also be lost if he didn't know how to deal with the crowd.
but of a mental kind, and they do it in order to maintain their happy condition. An inflation is a wonderful thing: you are lifted up from the earth and fly in heaven, looking down benevolently upon the masses.
if he were actually alone one hour every day he would get crazy and melancholic. If you cannot stand yourself for any length of tiem, you may be sure that your room is full of animals - you develop an evil smell.
People are educated in that way. If you have trouble, cast it on Christ, as if he were the animal that caarries your burdens, a scapegoat for your sins; and if you feel hungry, eat him.
You see, people who can agree with themselves are like gold. They taste very good. All the flies are after them.
It is as if you became smaller and smaller and finally are a mere speck in an awfully extended cosmos, and then you either develop megalomania or become a nothingness.
Nietzsche is absolutely in the position of the creator of a world.
Yet to apperceive the situation is not the only task for consciousness. There is still more: you have to hold your own, to fight for your own existence in hte flood. If you simply go under, knowing that you are going under, you have not dealt with the situation. You have to swim, to use every means possible to defend you own against the flood - you must wrestle with those archetypes - and only wehn you are really up against it to the last breath, only then, the revelation may take place. But you cannot foresee how it is possible, so you have to show fight, to hold your own. Usually when archetypes come in, people just collapse - they are utterly afraid, completely gone. Then you can only take the broom and clean up the whole mess, or somebody has to hold them to enable them to stand up against it at all.
For Tao is of the nature of water; it always finds the deepest places and will of course undermine the weak spot;
For the seed is not the tree and the seed doesn't make the tree unless there is the black earth: the black substance is needed in order to create something in reality. (skip) The seeds can remain for a long time without growing if circumstances are unfavorable; (skip) The soil is needed: one could even the most important creative impulses come out of soil. It is as if it were contributing the power of growth;
(skip) we have the feeling of being soiled - even our feeling of cleanliness is against it. We don't want to be mixed up with that kind of psychology, existence of individual. Yet if you don't expose your conscious personality of the danger of being overwhelmed, you never grow. (skip) It even looks in many passages of Zarathustra exactly as if he were not meant to take rook, as if he were really taken away from the earth by a strong wind.
Nietzsche very correctly said that Christianity was a revolt of the slaves in the most realm. He hated Christianity, and surely the morale of slaves is not freedom: it means a new prison. Antiquity did not know the spiritual prison of the Middle Ages; such a condition never existed before in the worlds's history.
virtue is such a power that it can never be extinct. Therefore, it is like a star in that, though it may become extinct, yet on account of the infiniteness of space the ligth travels on. Whether he is able to see it depends upon the observer; if he is near, it will cease to be, but if he is at an infinite distance from the star it will shine eternally. You know, there are many stars in our universe that are extinct but we still see them. Too short a tiem has elaspsed - the light needs perhaps a million years to come here - so if a star has only been extinct ten thousand years, it might take a million more years before we could become aware that it no longer exist.
We only know where the center is, but we don't know where the circumference is. (중심은 의식 혹은 ego에 비유, 원주는 무의식 혹은 self를 가리킴.)
Nietzsche means is that virtue is nothing that can be taught or given or acquired; viertue is what you are, your strength.
That is the way in which the intuitive generally deals, not only with his problems but also with his life; he creates a situation and as soon as it is more or less established, then off he goes because it threatens to become a prison to him, so his life consists chiefly in movement, in discovering new possibilities.
So in order to be able to adapt, you must have that faithlessness to your memories and to all those you loved in the past, that innocent faithlessness. You have to drift away, forget what you are, and be unconscious of yourself if you want to adapt at all - up to a certain moment in your life. (새로운 삶, 혹은 새로운 단계로 나아가기 위해서는 과거에 대한 집착을 버려야만 함을 역설.) (skip)
you must sell yourself in order to live, so you must create a position which can be handed out to the world as a sort of value which you will be paid for. But that is no yourself really. It is what you have been, and when that thing vanishes, you find yourself in a sphere that always has been, but it was always unconscious up to the moment when you returned to it again.
The temper in which we live and work is the same as that of the Middle Ages only the name is different; it is no longer a spiritual subject, but is now called science.
Natuarally, it is impossible to realize the collective unconscious without being entirely dismembered or devoured, unless you have help, some strong link which fastens you down to reality so that you never forget that you are a human individueal liek other individuals. For as soon as you touch the collective unconscious you have an inflation - it is unavoidable - and then you soar into space, disappear into a cloud, become a being beyond human proportions. (skip) Nietzsche was alone with nobody to understand his experiences.
The fact is, when a man is in a crowd he is inferior, no matter what idea he may have about his greatness. The morality of a crowd is lower than the morality of each individual in the crowd. A crowd is overpowering naturally.
the good thing, the high thing, the virtue, is always an accomplishment, always a summit, and the summit leads no farther. Only when you are down below can you rise, as only after the summit can you descend. But if there is nothing below, you cannot descend.
Try to make it here and now, for yourself. That is good teaching. Then, the childeren will try to make it here and now for themselves (skip) At all events, you leave a good example of how to take care of themselves. If the parents can take care of themselves, the children will also. (skip) And so when a whole nation is torturing itself for the sake of the children, an inheritance of misery is all that they leave for the future, a sort of unfulfilled promise. So instead of saying, "I do it for the children - it may come off in the future." try to do it for yourself here and now. Then you will see whether it is possible or not.
- 융이 1934년에서 1939년까지 니체의 '차라투스트라'를 선택해서 세미나를 했던 것을 기록한 책이다. 실제 내용은 더 방대하지만 J. L. Jarett에 의해 abridged 된 것을 읽었다.
융의 사상은 동의할 수 있는 부분과 동의할 수 없는 부분이 있다. 특히 니체에 대한 해석에 있어서 나에게는 융이 너무도 그의 틀에 맞추어 모든 것을 끼워 넣으려고 하는 부분은 타당치 않게 느껴졌다. '의식'과 '무의식'의 이분법적인 사고와 'mystic'한 해석 등은 내가 동의할 수 없는 부분이다.
정신분석학자들은 빛을 총체적으로 인식하기 보다는 모든 빛에 프리즘을 들이대고 분광하여 그 분광된 색상들에 대해 해석하려고 하는 것처럼 느껴진다. 빛은 존재 그 자체, 그 자체로서의 밝음, 다른 사물을 이해하도록 비추어주는 존재로서 이해해야 하는 것이 내게는 더 올바른 방법으로 생각된다.
니체의 차라투스트라는 태양과도 같은 존재이다. 가까이 할 수도 없지만 그의 언어를 통해 자신을, 주변을 비추어 보게끔 한다. 초인으로의 의지와 인간으로서의 고독, 곳곳에 묻어나오는 니체의 고뇌와 그럼에도 불구하고 타오르는 의지. 그것을 어떻게 다른 말로써 다시 표현할 수 있을까? 그럼에도 매순간 '인간은 극복되어야 하는 존재'라는 말로 자신을 다잡는 마음을 이해할 수 없는가?
그러나, 세미나의 많은 부분은 니체와는 관련없는 자신의 사상에 대해서 설명하고 있다. 내가 융에 동의하는 부분들, 씨앗이 자라나기 위해 대지에 뿌리를 내려야만 하는 것, 새로운 단계로 나아가기 위해 과거에 대한 애착이나 집착에서 자유로워져야 하는 것, 두렵지만 무의식을 대면하고 무의식의 어두운 부분을 골라내어 무의식을 새로운 힘의 원천으로 변화시키는 것, 무의식의 급류 속에서 포기하지 않고 대항하는 것, 끝까지 헤엄치는 것, 집단과 사회에 매몰되지 않는 개인의 덕을 고양시키는 것, 다음 세대를 위해 사는 것이 아니라 지금 이순간의 나의 충만을 위해 노력할 것, 그러하면 아이들은 자연히 따라올 것 등.
융의 관점은 내가 잊고 있던 어떤 부분을 끄집어내어 적나라하게 제시하며 현실의 어두운 부분을 인정하고 그 위에서 성장할 수 있음을 알려준다. 모든 고귀한 것들은 정상에 있음을 알려주지만 그 정상에서 다른 정상으로 올라가기 위해서는 다시 내려와야 함을 인식시켜줌으로써 정신이 더 튼튼하게 성장하여 그 길을 오를 수 있도록 독려하고 있다.
현실에 발이 닿아 있는 것, 어찌 보면 그리 나쁜 것만은 아닌 듯 하다. 그러나 나무가 위로 자라듯 이상을 향해 뻗어나가는 것에 이의를 두지는 말기를.
2013년 4월 12일 금요일
Tristan Tzara 의 'Approximate Man' 중
the bell ring for no reason and we too
the cares we carry with us
which are our inner clothing
that we put on each morning
that night undoes with the hands of dream
...
the bells ring for no reason and we too
we leave with the departures arrive with the arrivals
leave with the arrivals arrive when others leave
vapor on the cold glass you block your own image from your sight
...
with mouths blue and drawn from the cold on the other side
of nothingness
greedy you grip the door so hard your nails sink in the flesh
the dark throat where the clouds pile up
the word alone suffices for seeing
I have left behind real life overflowing with the manners of gentlemen travestied in dream
I walked on the sky head down
...
man grows infinitely shorter with the year
but let the door open at last like the first page of a book
vomited from the white crests the fog solidifies among us
and soon we will be take into the dense and muddy matter
soon will be absorbed by the spongy lethargy of iron
laughs with one face and weeps with the other
at each step found again and yet more fleeting
always found again and always more blind
like a plant that would unknowingly devour us
like a love that would unknowingly devour us
the tree lives in you and you live in its shadow
concentric circles flee with time
the heart a heavy stone that the drowned men put on
holds oyou in the depth of inexpressible relationships
hardly moving among the errors
the solid links - oh slow oarsmen of soot
come in through the window - the night old with masks
allows each night the long youth to enter into me
never again to lose its footing on this hostile earth.
sailing with clarity I know not where
...
I remember a clock which cut off heads to tell the hours
...
we wanted to drink all the blood of rocks purulent with sun
that the waves tried to snap with their burning mouths
the sea brought scars still sensuously warm
and the sharp cliff seated knees aginst its chin
chewed on its star and the peaceful light that ruled it
in the lonely jail where blood prowls thick with remorse
up there where all is stone
...
up there where all is stone indefinitely
smooth down the clump of clouds - these are the teeth of thunder -
...
into gaping eternity of hiatus has bitten
resounding in the assonance the proclamation
conveyer-belt from faith to nothingness -
let the leaning one
beside the dark one
fistcuffs knots in the long journey of existence
what do they shatter clear with time and with mirrors
I raised my silence to the gentleness of death
...
and while anger howls at the moon's mourning
and spreads the fetic shadows in vacillating alleys
there are still like me some light drops of soul
rejected by the centrifugal force
and where the stalk stands like a dagger's crook
squat the heavy souls unseeing
whose every end is a beginning
and the seas too it has inverted
that is what we know of the seas inverted in the well of the sky
poor little life losing ground each day
overthrown toppled trampled poor life
...
but to what purpose climb the peak strain the clouds
when human tenderness can no longer warm my joys
but when memory comes frightening in its mask of shouts of crime
eager to snatch the letters from the words
the straw emerges from the mattress of my body which unyeilding as my god oppresses me
and so hard of feverish sky and
and I am broken along the iron structure
and crushed like a fruit under the careless foot
I weep gall succulent deliverance
if I could kill memory elusive prey
how the work is dirty at its approach why not strangle it
before it spills from the bucket of the atmosphere
a man would like to weep a man
a man would like to punge his head into the cool river his head
a woman would like to weep over the man
a man is so few things that a fine net of wind carries him off
man
it is raining sun on the embers of sun
and ships of sun drown in the germination of nothingness
...
leech fastened to the year's frenetic flesh
vague foreboardings sound the shouting depth of the wells
where we pile up pell-mell knowledge and poetry
age is ready to take you in its artful net
from which escape is difficult and memories sift painfully
put the muzzle on the buring clock tower of barkings
which in sonorous confusions details the neglect
where every hour our other selves arrive burdened with awkard parcels of life
my horizon is limited to the face of a watch
the arena where the bullfight boils in my heart harrassed by shouting summers
but there are also hands that write
peace to some disillusioned wealth to others according to the chance of wells we fall in
incendiary hands
the only ones that shine
I still hear the cloud saw
that cut the horizon from maturity from the ripppling vestiges
I dwell in the music in the stove where the shadows bake a tear
where at every step the riddle of our reality grazes the anger of the reasons for azure and madness
and of so many others and of so many others
do not close your eyes yet
the murderous cavalcades of solitude
and this blackened force that reverberates in me
breaks in me aginst the walls breaks
impetuaous as a spattering ray of heavy sun
that the hammer drives into the muffled throat of the well
and still the train chatters in morse code across countries and voices
I wait and wait the patience of my destiny reaches the candle's end
the last flutterings of a moth all I have left
that the shadow first plunged in me and then pulled out slowly
and slowly crushed the stone slowly strangled the confession in me
I waited bundled in my menial humility
rescue like a drunkenness overpowering the dull eye
emerging from the bouquet of muted rays
I wait for divine imprudence to drop its die of love
on my head whose roots already go to meet it
the sharp virtue of the number it releases and shows me
I wait for the apocalytic chariot
to take me in its whirlwind of infinite and gold
for the prophecy of order at last to crystallize in death
and so many others and so many others
the clot of what I could not understand rising in my throat
a ninepin at the mercy of a thoughtless impulse what am I
a disconsolate starting point where I return smoking the word in the corner of my mouth
- 다다이즘의 창시자이며 대표자인 Tzara. 이 책을 구했을 때 얼마나 기뻤는지 모른다. 다다이즘은 의미가 없다는 뜻으로 아무 의미없는 dada란 말을 사용해 그 개념을 설명하고 있다. Tzara는 문득 보면 무질서한 언어의 나열과 문법과 상관없는 말의 조합으로서 삶의 의미없음을 그의 글에서 표현하고자 하는 듯이 보인다. 그러나, 내게는 그의 극단적인 아름다운 문구들에서 생의 부조리, 유한함에 대한 원망, 글과 삶에의 열망에도 불구하고 바꿀수 없는 현실 등이 유리송곳으로 뇌를 갉는 듯이 전해진다. 그의 인간존재에 대한 깊은 사유와 같은 운명을 지닌 인간들에 대한 동정 또한 글 곳곳에서 배어나온다.
뜻밖에 만난 내가 예전에 썼었던 문장과 일치하는 문장 몇 개, 그가 지나왔을 생각의 절망과 부조리의 늪에서 만난 듯...
그의 글은 가슴을 한 조각씩 떼어내는 듯 아프지만 그럼에도 너무도 아름답다.
the cares we carry with us
which are our inner clothing
that we put on each morning
that night undoes with the hands of dream
...
the bells ring for no reason and we too
we leave with the departures arrive with the arrivals
leave with the arrivals arrive when others leave
vapor on the cold glass you block your own image from your sight
...
with mouths blue and drawn from the cold on the other side
of nothingness
greedy you grip the door so hard your nails sink in the flesh
the dark throat where the clouds pile up
the word alone suffices for seeing
I have left behind real life overflowing with the manners of gentlemen travestied in dream
I walked on the sky head down
...
man grows infinitely shorter with the year
but let the door open at last like the first page of a book
vomited from the white crests the fog solidifies among us
and soon we will be take into the dense and muddy matter
soon will be absorbed by the spongy lethargy of iron
laughs with one face and weeps with the other
at each step found again and yet more fleeting
always found again and always more blind
like a plant that would unknowingly devour us
like a love that would unknowingly devour us
the tree lives in you and you live in its shadow
concentric circles flee with time
the heart a heavy stone that the drowned men put on
holds oyou in the depth of inexpressible relationships
hardly moving among the errors
the solid links - oh slow oarsmen of soot
come in through the window - the night old with masks
allows each night the long youth to enter into me
never again to lose its footing on this hostile earth.
sailing with clarity I know not where
...
I remember a clock which cut off heads to tell the hours
...
we wanted to drink all the blood of rocks purulent with sun
that the waves tried to snap with their burning mouths
the sea brought scars still sensuously warm
and the sharp cliff seated knees aginst its chin
chewed on its star and the peaceful light that ruled it
in the lonely jail where blood prowls thick with remorse
up there where all is stone
...
up there where all is stone indefinitely
smooth down the clump of clouds - these are the teeth of thunder -
...
into gaping eternity of hiatus has bitten
resounding in the assonance the proclamation
conveyer-belt from faith to nothingness -
let the leaning one
beside the dark one
fistcuffs knots in the long journey of existence
what do they shatter clear with time and with mirrors
I raised my silence to the gentleness of death
...
and while anger howls at the moon's mourning
and spreads the fetic shadows in vacillating alleys
there are still like me some light drops of soul
rejected by the centrifugal force
and where the stalk stands like a dagger's crook
squat the heavy souls unseeing
whose every end is a beginning
and the seas too it has inverted
that is what we know of the seas inverted in the well of the sky
poor little life losing ground each day
overthrown toppled trampled poor life
...
but to what purpose climb the peak strain the clouds
when human tenderness can no longer warm my joys
but when memory comes frightening in its mask of shouts of crime
eager to snatch the letters from the words
the straw emerges from the mattress of my body which unyeilding as my god oppresses me
and so hard of feverish sky and
and I am broken along the iron structure
and crushed like a fruit under the careless foot
I weep gall succulent deliverance
if I could kill memory elusive prey
how the work is dirty at its approach why not strangle it
before it spills from the bucket of the atmosphere
a man would like to weep a man
a man would like to punge his head into the cool river his head
a woman would like to weep over the man
a man is so few things that a fine net of wind carries him off
man
it is raining sun on the embers of sun
and ships of sun drown in the germination of nothingness
...
leech fastened to the year's frenetic flesh
vague foreboardings sound the shouting depth of the wells
where we pile up pell-mell knowledge and poetry
age is ready to take you in its artful net
from which escape is difficult and memories sift painfully
put the muzzle on the buring clock tower of barkings
which in sonorous confusions details the neglect
where every hour our other selves arrive burdened with awkard parcels of life
my horizon is limited to the face of a watch
the arena where the bullfight boils in my heart harrassed by shouting summers
but there are also hands that write
peace to some disillusioned wealth to others according to the chance of wells we fall in
incendiary hands
the only ones that shine
I still hear the cloud saw
that cut the horizon from maturity from the ripppling vestiges
I dwell in the music in the stove where the shadows bake a tear
where at every step the riddle of our reality grazes the anger of the reasons for azure and madness
and of so many others and of so many others
do not close your eyes yet
the murderous cavalcades of solitude
and this blackened force that reverberates in me
breaks in me aginst the walls breaks
impetuaous as a spattering ray of heavy sun
that the hammer drives into the muffled throat of the well
and still the train chatters in morse code across countries and voices
I wait and wait the patience of my destiny reaches the candle's end
the last flutterings of a moth all I have left
that the shadow first plunged in me and then pulled out slowly
and slowly crushed the stone slowly strangled the confession in me
I waited bundled in my menial humility
rescue like a drunkenness overpowering the dull eye
emerging from the bouquet of muted rays
I wait for divine imprudence to drop its die of love
on my head whose roots already go to meet it
the sharp virtue of the number it releases and shows me
I wait for the apocalytic chariot
to take me in its whirlwind of infinite and gold
for the prophecy of order at last to crystallize in death
and so many others and so many others
the clot of what I could not understand rising in my throat
a ninepin at the mercy of a thoughtless impulse what am I
a disconsolate starting point where I return smoking the word in the corner of my mouth
- 다다이즘의 창시자이며 대표자인 Tzara. 이 책을 구했을 때 얼마나 기뻤는지 모른다. 다다이즘은 의미가 없다는 뜻으로 아무 의미없는 dada란 말을 사용해 그 개념을 설명하고 있다. Tzara는 문득 보면 무질서한 언어의 나열과 문법과 상관없는 말의 조합으로서 삶의 의미없음을 그의 글에서 표현하고자 하는 듯이 보인다. 그러나, 내게는 그의 극단적인 아름다운 문구들에서 생의 부조리, 유한함에 대한 원망, 글과 삶에의 열망에도 불구하고 바꿀수 없는 현실 등이 유리송곳으로 뇌를 갉는 듯이 전해진다. 그의 인간존재에 대한 깊은 사유와 같은 운명을 지닌 인간들에 대한 동정 또한 글 곳곳에서 배어나온다.
뜻밖에 만난 내가 예전에 썼었던 문장과 일치하는 문장 몇 개, 그가 지나왔을 생각의 절망과 부조리의 늪에서 만난 듯...
그의 글은 가슴을 한 조각씩 떼어내는 듯 아프지만 그럼에도 너무도 아름답다.
2013년 4월 4일 목요일
Maryilynne Robinson의 'Gilead' 중
I don't know why solitude would be a balm for loneliness, but that is how it always was for me in those days, and people respected me for all those hours I was up here working away in the study, and for the books that used to come in the mail for me - not so many, really, but more than I could afford. That's where some of the money went that I could have put aside.
To be useful was the best thing the old men ever hoped for themselves, and to be aimless was their worst fear.
The moon looks wonderful in this warm evening light, just as a candle flame looks beautiful in the light of morning. Light within light. It seems like a metaphor for something. So much does. Ralph Waldo Emerson is excellent on this point.
It seems to me to be a metaphor for the human soul, the singular light within the great general light of existence. Or it seems like poetry within language. Perhaps wisdom within experience.
We human beings do real harm. History could make a stone weep.
I blame the radio for sowing a good deal of confusion where theology is concerned. And television is worse. You can spend forty years teaching people to be awake to the fact of mystery and then some fellow with no more theological sense than a jackrabbit gets himself a raio ministry and all your work is forgotten. I do wonder where it will end.
I knew perfectly well at that time, as I had for years and years that the Lord absolutely transcends any understanding I have of Him, which makes loyalty to Him a different thing from loyalty to whatever customs and doctrines and memories I happen to associate with Him.
To be useful was the best thing the old men ever hoped for themselves, and to be aimless was their worst fear.
The moon looks wonderful in this warm evening light, just as a candle flame looks beautiful in the light of morning. Light within light. It seems like a metaphor for something. So much does. Ralph Waldo Emerson is excellent on this point.
It seems to me to be a metaphor for the human soul, the singular light within the great general light of existence. Or it seems like poetry within language. Perhaps wisdom within experience.
We human beings do real harm. History could make a stone weep.
I blame the radio for sowing a good deal of confusion where theology is concerned. And television is worse. You can spend forty years teaching people to be awake to the fact of mystery and then some fellow with no more theological sense than a jackrabbit gets himself a raio ministry and all your work is forgotten. I do wonder where it will end.
I knew perfectly well at that time, as I had for years and years that the Lord absolutely transcends any understanding I have of Him, which makes loyalty to Him a different thing from loyalty to whatever customs and doctrines and memories I happen to associate with Him.
- Let aside the part related to the religion, this book shows me what being 'decent' in one's whole life means.
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