The Desert Rose

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Hermit, Arcanum 9

Hermit, Arcanum 9

What is the desert? the innate way of unfoldment: truth.

In the Red Book, Jung journeyed and wrote: “Walking around in a circle I happen to return to myself and to him, the solitary one, who lives down in the depths hidden from the light, held securely by the warm bosom of the rock, above him the glowing desert and sharp resplendent skies.

“The solitary lives in endless desert full of awesome beauty. He looks at the whole and at inner meaning. He loathes manifold diversity if it is near him. He looks at it from afar in its totality. Consequently silvery splendour and joy and beauty cloak diversity for him. What is near him must be simple and innocent, since close at hand the manifold and complicated tear and break through the silvery splendour.”

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There follows a long poem with expanded script, in which the magid, Philemon or Ammonius Sacca speaks:  (see italics)

“The sun and its glow nourish him … the solitary loves the desert above all since it is a mother to him, giving him food and invigorating warmth at regular intervals.”

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desert rose socotra/moffett/nationalgeographic.com

desert rose socotra/moffett/nationalgeographic.com

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Thus also the interior sun of the soul.   I have mist on my window. I am dull this morning, and out of relationship.   I have nothing and am uneasy with what I have.   Yet I know it is condensation on the window, which blurs life, and the sun – Great SOLomon – will clear it as he rises. The creatures and the histories of the soul wake up slowly, and give the prospect some positive meaning.   The soul is a full engagement with everything.   I think this defines the soul.   With the waking up there is a deepening of the mirage, and some change of key.

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Geode: "A Way of Life" by jim Ede

Geode: “A Way of Life” by jim Ede

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The thin Hermit in his hut with his book and the heat, wanders in an orchard of lush fruit and flowers, all reaching for his hand, his breath. He engages with the desert.   “Fragrant resins drip from his trees, and under his feet, thrusting seed breaks open.

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I engage with North London. It is the poetry of life in whatever medium.  Sometimes the poet over-reaches, fantasises and falters. The poet has an ethical task, to remain where it is real, and to question every surplus.   The poet has an ethical task: to not invent.   Invention turns to mist on the window.

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desert roses by Alayn 1807, trekearth.com

desert roses by Alayn 1807, trekearth.com

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I think for human default mode generally, “the horror of the desert and its withered evaporation …” permeates the conventional stress of livelihood, entertainment and mortgage.   For the hermit in the Libyan desert or in North London … “he stammers when he speaks of the indescribable fullness, his eye rests on the garden, his ears listen to the source, his breath draws in sweet perfume from blossom rich trees.” …

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I see the hermit in the midday sun, in the deep shade of his tent or hut, with book and abundance: the ferocity of the dry heat, the ringing silence, his parched limbs, the rustlings.   I see human security which seeks above all else to cover my head with a roof and a story.   The stories in our souls are read to us at bedtime, to keep us covered and safe.   The hermit falls into a place where he cannot write any story at all; there is no room for it.   The sea in my face is a desert.   From the desert all things come.   In the desert is the well, and the camel drinks.

There are many sounds in the desert – of the soft mother, the wind; and of cracked insects and darting lizards.   There is the endless sound of space. This is the fruit the Hermit hears.   HERE.

Hear it through the trains, the passing cars, the songbirds in the budding trees. All of London is the sound in this corner of it which is silence: this window on which a Rune is drawn in the dew: my body’s unending kiss with gravity.

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Gaudier's Dancer - in 'A Way of Life' by Jim Ede

Gaudier’s Dancer – in ‘A Way of Life’ by Jim Ede

Are not lovers the gravity with each other? Is not the Hermit the gravity with God?   In this mode the thought with the beloved is gravity.   The Hermit’s daily dawn footprints through the silver dunes are blowing in the wind.   Their edges soften, but he walks some more, and again next day.   There is always the trace of his passing, and the wanderer finds it, follows the thread to the web’s gossamer centre, follows the Sun’s rays inwards, becomes still and is blessed.   The Question is left open.   The wanderer abandons the answer he or she seeks.

sun1b

“He gives you a small insignificant fruit, which has just fallen at his feet. It appears worthless to you, but if you consider it, you will see that this fruit tastes like a sun which you could not have dreamt of. It gives off a perfume which confuses your senses and makes you dream of rose gardens and sweet wine and whispering palm trees. And you hold this one fruit in your hand dreaming, and you would like the tree from which it grows, the garden in which this tree stands, and the sun which brought forth this garden …

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Adam & Eve detail

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“And you yourself want to be that solitary who strolls with the sun in his garden, his gaze resting on pendant flowers, and his hand brushing a hundred fold of grain and his breath drinking the perfume from a thousand roses.

“Dull from the sun and drunk from fermenting wines, you lie down in ancient graves, whose walls resound with many voices and many colours of a thousand solar years.

“When you grow, then you see everything living again as it was. And when you sleep, you rest, like everything that was, and your dreams echo softly again from distant temple chants.

“You sleep down through the thousand solar years, and you wake up through the thousand solar years, and your dreams full of ancient lore adorn the walls of your bedchamber. You also see yourself in the totality.”

C.G.Jung, The Red Book

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poppy pod in drinking-glass - from "A Way of Life" by Jim Ede

poppy pod in drinking-glass – from “A Way of Life” by Jim Ede

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My adventure invites fellow travellers.  I am a poet, an artist and a seer.  I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote also my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books). Watch this space.

aquariel link

All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2014. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/

 

4 thoughts on “The Desert Rose

  1. A most interesting and challenging post- thanks for sharing Jung from his great hitherto secret red book. It needs reading and re-reading for its full significance to sink in. Perhaps we are all Hermits wandering in the desert of life searching for the waters of truth. As long as we are not deceived by the wandering mind
    and find a mirage, we are safe to dive down deep where the water table lies and a fountain will gush forth? All fond love, Alan

  2. Hello dear Alan, and I’m glad you are enjoying the Jung with me. Yes this is indeed the diving into the heart – I love what you say about the water table – in ways which we have often shared. Thank you, and see you soon x

  3. Pingback: In the Sea and onto the Beach | Aquariel

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