Meaning Of Life Part VI

In the case of the death of one individual symbol through consciousness’s transition from an exoteric to an esoteric standpoint toward it, it may well be that this loss is compensated for by the emergence of a new symbol pregnant with a different meaning so that there is a new fascination. This is what had in fact happened in history many times; there have been numerous periods of cultural crisis when the old gods or symbols had lost their conviction and new ones had not fully taken hold of people but were slowly emerging. These times of transition were times of empirical and temporal suffering from the loss of meaning, while the fundamental, logical in-ness continued even across the period of its empirical absence. This type of change and predicament could be compared to the unrest during a removal, when one is no longer in one’s old home and has not yet moved into one’s new home (End Of Meaning, by Wolfgang Geigerich).

With our culture’s loss of meaning, we exist in such a transitional period, a time of suffering. The old symbols we once cherished and drew sustenance from are now dead. It is a time of sorrow, of confusion. What do we do? We eat, drink, sleep, have sex, and toil at jobs we loathe. Then, there are the lucky ones, who don’t realize they have lost all meaning. These go from day-to-day, mindlessly, blissfully stumbling through their moronic existence, thinking of nothing but self-aggrandizement. They have their meaning. They have no reason to suffer.

Those who suffer most, however, are the ones who realize we are in the process of passing from one evolutionary stage to another. We are in a kind of purgatory, hanging between heaven and hell, in limbo between Man and Overman.

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Meaning Of Life Part V

Clearly, man’s embeddedness in nature is over. But since the meaning of “meaning” is nothing else but in-ness, it is obvious why the last two centuries had a sense of alienation and nihilism. As Jung stated, to experience a loss of meaning, the “soul has become lonely; it is extra ecclesiam and in a state of no salvation.” The soul is likewise extra naturam. With this insight we have returned in our discussion to, and provided an underpinning for, Jung’s initial diagnosis, “No, evidently we no longer have any myth.”

The days of man’s in-ness, his total containment in Nature, have come to an end. The loss of meaning has resulted in mankind’s constant questioning after it. It is futile because the situation has changed.

Giegerich contends there are two opposing positions we can take. One can either defend the past mythological age, standing against all who attack it, or one can accept the new situation we find ourselves in and learn from it.

By longing for “meaning,” the first option defends, to be sure, the old sense of in-ness, i.e., the in-ness in the former situation, but therefore has to renounce what it actually most desires, in-ness as an actual reality, which, however, today would be the in-ness in the utterly new psychological situation of being extra ecclesiam et naturam and not the in-ness of old. Either way, a loss is unavoidable.

One can easily see the quandary we moderns are in.

This first option reminds me of a group like the fundamentalist Christians, who fight tooth and nail to preserve what they believe is the original truth of Christ. It is interesting to note that they do this while rejecting all symbolism and metaphor found in the scriptures in lieu of a literal interpretation.

Giegerich claims the second option is today’s reality. History is

the soul’s alchemical retort, and we collectively are the prime matter in this hermetically sealed retort and are transported through one phase of history’s alchemical opus after the other, each time finding ourselves in an entirely new world situation.

The first option, a negative interpretation of the fundamental change from myth and metaphysics to modernity, does not work. So much has become clear. We have to turn to the second option, that is to say, to let ourselves be placed by the soul’s process into the situation that is. It must teach us how to interpret our situation.

Alembic image above: © Robert M.Place: The Ace of Vessels card from Robert M. Place‘s dynamic The Alchemical Tarot: Renewed.
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Meaning Of Life Part IV

The search for meaning, according to Giegerich, is self-contradictory:

The search for meaning is in truth, but secretly, the longing for a state of in-ness, but since the question about the worth and meaning of life has existence as a whole in its field of vision, it inevitably positions us outside and vis-a-vis life. The search for meaning unwittingly has to construe that which it desires to be the logic or syntax of life as a semantic content, as a kind of doctrine of wisdom or a creed or ideology, ultimately as a commodity. This is why today meaning exists in the plural of numerous competing meanings put up for sale on a large “meaning market” by a whole “meaning industry”, and why we are in the position of customers who have to make their decisions and choices about these “meanings.” Even if we “buy” a certain meaning and immure ourselves in it, nothing can undo the fact that it is a secondary acquisition and that our in-ness in it, if it comes to exist at all, is like that in a house that we ourselves built or rented, not that kind of a priori and irrevocable in-ness that was actually sought.

Let’s examine Giegerich’s term, “in-ness,” a little closer. As was previously stated, Giegerich compares in-ness to that state in which a fish has its existence in water. It is totally contained in its world and this is its meaning for existence. It doesn’t need to question it; it just is.

Meaning, where it indeed exists, is first of all an implicit fact of existence, its a priori. It can never be the answer to a question; it is, conversely, an unquestioned and unquestionable certainty that predates any possible questioning. It is the groundedness of existence, a sense of embeddedness in life, of containment in the world–perhaps we could even say of in-ness as the logic of existence as such. Meaning exists if the meaning of life is as self-evident as the in-ness in water is for fish.

Humans, prior to the end of the mythological age, were totally immersed in their world. Their myths, legends, and religions were not offered as answers to questions concerning the meaning of life. Rather, they were emanations of human thought that factually expressed human experience as totally contained, totally immersed in Nature.

There were different ways of expressing in-ness. One was expressed imaginally through the creation of myths; another was through metaphysics, utilizing human reason. These modes of thought

were the self-expression in consciousness of the meaning
that was.

The end of in-ness, as we have discussed, came sometime in the nineteenth century, according to Giegerich. I can’t help but think this was somehow meant to be. It is as if our evolution on this planet demanded that we shift our mode of existence for some unknown reason. Admitedlly, the shift has resulted in much pain and suffering for mankind. Just the psychological toll alone has been tremendous, not to mention the death and mayhem caused by various totalitarian ideologues who claimed to have solved the riddle of life.

I am reminded of how reality’s pendulum swings from side to side, continuously. Do we strive to return to in-ness? I say, Live life as it is and do not strive at all. Live life to the fullest! Forget about meaning. The question is moot. Carpe diem!

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Meaning Of Life Part III

In this third installment of commentary on Giegerich’s fascinating essay, The End of Meaning and the Birth of Man, I will discuss Giegerich’s contention that, prior to the nineteenth century, mankind was in no position to question life’s meaning. The nineteenth century brought a shift in being that placed man in a position to view life as if from outside life.

…existence as such had become a vis-a-vis, as it were, which is the opposite of in-ness. Man now for the first time had a position to the world per se. The question of meaning is the mark of the modern period after the conclusion of the age of metaphysics at the beginning of the 19th century.

What occurred in the nineteenth century that brought such a “radical change in man’s being-in-the-world?”

Giegerich is saying that the end of man’s mythological mode of existence ended with the nineteenth century. Prior to this, humanity was fundamentally enmeshed in Nature, or “absolute in-ness,” as Giegerich calls it.

Man experienced himself primarily as a thread in the fabric of nature, without any arbitrary volition of his own (Heino Gehrts). Even where man interfered with nature, such as when tilling the soil, erecting a house, or, above all, in his sacrificial killings, these human interventions were, in a sense, decidedly not his own doings, doings, metaphysically speaking, on his own responsibility, but rather reenactments of exemplary acts originally performed by gods.

Giegerich enumerates five characteristics of this mode of existence:

1) All thinking and experience was handed down from the elders of past generations

2) There was no sense of individuality. All had their substance in the family, tribe, clan, etc. The person was merely an emanation of the group consciousness.

3) There was an inescapable dependence on Nature. Man was at its mercy.

4) People were resigned and submissive to the fate they had been handed.

5) People were devoted to something metaphysically larger than themselves.

An entire book could be written about the end of absolute in-ness, but here is the gist of it: the rise of egocentric man occurred in the nineteenth century. The “I” replaced Nature as the center of existence. By the time of Nietzsche, God was dead, and scientific positivism was the predominant mode of thinking. And, as if a portent of the twentieth century, Nietzsche was plunged into hopeless insanity. The Age Of Despair had commenced. It would not be long before over sixty million people would die in the bloodiest war in human history.

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Meaning Of Life Part II

Giegerich claims that myth, religion, and metaphysics were never explicit answers to the question, “What is the meaning of life?” Rather, he says

they were merely the concrete articulation or formulation, in imaginal form, and, in the case of metaphysics, the explication, in the mode of thought, of the form of the factually existing in-ness in, or groundedness of, existence at each historical locus respectively. The tales of myth, the religious practices, doctrines, or dogmas, the elaborate systems of metaphysics, spelled out in different modes the logic that factually governed a people’s lived life. They were the self-expression in consciousness of the meaning that was.

He returns back to his metaphor of the fish in water to say,

Just as fish could never seriously question the meaningfulness of being in water, so from the age of myth through the end of the age of metaphysics, i.e., through the time of Hegel and Schelling, man could not possibly have in all earnest raised the question “Is Life Worth Living?” as a real, more than merely rhetorical, question.

Again, this brings to mind the notion of wu-wei. If we are letting life flow as it must without interfering, we have absolutely no need of questioning life as to its meaning. We are here.

We have been thrown into this world, not of our choosing, or at least it seems that way. Perhaps we actually did choose our lives according to our portion of fate, as in the Myth Of Er, recounted by Socrates in Plato’s Republic, but have no memory of it, having passed through the Plain Of Lethe (forgetting) before entering this world.

Nevertheless, it is futile to ask the ego to supply an answer to the meaning of life. A fish would not ask one of its gills why it is in the water and not living on land! So, it is just as preposterous to think we, in our egocentricity and preoccupation with external things, should attempt to dispel the mysteries of life.

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Meaning Of Life Part I

As time permits, I will begin posting comments on an essay by Wolfgang Giegerich called The End Of Meaning And The Birth Of Man.

Giegerich is a German Jungian analyst. The following short bio is from his book, The Soul’s Logical Life:

After university studies in the field of literature in Germany and the United States and an assistant professorship at Rutgers University (New Brunswick, N.J.), Wolfgang Giegerich trained in analytical psychology at the C.G. Jung Institute in Stuttgart, Germany. He works as a psychotherapist and training analyst in private practice near Munich. He has lectured and published internationally. His books include Atombome und Seele und Drachenkampf (both Raben-Reihe, Zürich), Animus-Psychologie and Tötungen. Gewalt aus der Seele: Versuch über Ursprung und Geschichte des Bewußtseins (both Peter Lang, Frankfurt et al.).

The subtitle of the essay is, An Essay About The State Reached in the History Of Consciousness And An Analysis of C.G. Jung’s Psychology Project.
Giegerich begins with comments concerning Jung’s interest in the question regarding the meaning of life. Europe, at that time, had already struggled with nihilism for at least a century prior to Jung. So, it was nothing new when Jung began writing about man’s aloneness, “where in the cold light of consciousness, the blank barrenness of the world reaches to the very stars” (CW 9). What was novel in Jung’s discourse was his idea that man’s loss of a myth was the cause of his neurosis. Where Jung and myself would differ, however, is that he believed mankind required a meaningful answer to life’s riddle. In my post entitled, So-Called Meaning Of Life, I argue it is only the human ego that requires an answer to this question. The drive for meaning is a product of ratiocination, empowered by an egocentric mindset. In all actuality, a rationalized answer to life’s innate mystery cannot be found. Life must be mysterious for it to be worth living.

But, I would agree with Jung in that he saw the loss of mythology and the gods as being disastrous to the human condition.

Giegerich notices an inherent contradiction in Jung’s comments on meaning:

One might think that the diagnosed loss of meaning is the cause, the search for meaning the result; further, that the loss of meaning is the “illness” while the sought-for meaning would be the cure. But “loss of meaning” and “search for meaning” have to be seen, rather, as the two sides of the same coin. Just as it is the sense of loss of meaning that creates a craving for meaning, so it is the idea of the dire need of a higher meaning that makes real life appear intolerably banal and “nothing but,” merely “maya compared with that one thing, that your life is mean-ingful” (Jung, 1939, p. 630). The more you long for meaning, the more banal life gets; the more banal you feel life to be, the more you will say, with Jung, “My whole being was seeking for something still unknown which might confer meaning upon the banality of life” (Jaffe, 1989, p. 165). There are not two phenomena here but only one. The search for meaning is the opposite of itself. It is what turns reality into that very senselessness that it intends to overcome; it is itself that symptom or illness the cure of which it claims to be. The longing for meaning is deluded about itself.

In essence, the search for meaning is like a dog chasing it’s tail.

Giegerich goes on to explain that

Meaning is not an entity that could be had, not a creed, a doctrine, a worldview, also not something like the fairytale treasure hard to attain. It is not semantic, not a content. Meaning, where it indeed exists, is first of all an implicit fact of existence, its a priori. It can never be the answer to a question; it is, conversely, an unquestioned and unquestionable certainty that predates any possible questioning. It is the groundedness of existence, a sense of embeddedness in life, of containment in the world–perhaps we could even say of in-ness as the logic of existence as such. Meaning exists if the meaning of life is as self-evident as the in-ness in water is for fish.

This has the ring of truth. I know in my life, thinking and searching for meaning these last thirty years, I’ve always ran up against a brick wall. Now I know why. The more I searched, the more I descended into a slimy black pit of despair.

I decided sometime ago that the only meaning to my life was just simply to live it, in the moment, in the Now, and try to practice the Taoist principle of wu-wei, “action without action”, or “the art of letting-be.”

Each human being is a river. All are unique with their own set of subtle fluctuations. These are caused by the distinct psychic topographies inherent in each one, just as each river has varying topographies that effect its flow. The water needs to flow unimpeded. When it becomes dammed up, there is the potential for disaster.

There will always be subtle fluctuations, but these are good. They make life interesting, give it character and mystery. But, most importantly, the energy needs to flow. The meandering stream must continue to wind its way through the land, unhindered.

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance (From Burnt Norton, by T.S. Eliot).

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The Giegerich Project

I am going to begin a new project on this blog. We’ll see how it goes. This is a new author for me. I am very unfamiliar with his work. I know that he is an archetypal psychologist and has been very influential in that field.

As time permits, I will begin posting comments on an essay by Wolfgang Giegerich called The End Of Meaning And The Birth Of Man.

Giegerich is a German Jungian analyst. The following short bio is from his book, The Soul’s Logical Life:

After university studies in the field of literature in Germany and the United States and an assistant professorship at Rutgers University (New Brunswick, N.J.), Wolfgang Giegerich trained in analytical psychology at the C.G. Jung Institute in Stuttgart, Germany. He works as a psychotherapist and training analyst in private practice near Munich. He has lectured and published internationally. His books include Atombome und Seele und Drachenkampf (both Raben-Reihe, Zürich), Animus-Psychologie and Tötungen. Gewalt aus der Seele: Versuch über Ursprung und Geschichte des Bewußtseins (both Peter Lang, Frankfurt et al.).

The subtitle of the essay is, An Essay About The State Reached in the History Of Consciousness And An Analysis of C.G. Jung’s Psychology Project.

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Comments On Faust Part XX

This article will discuss Faust’s belief or disbelief in God. In the scene called Marthe’s Garden, Margarete begins to question Faust about his views on religion:

Margarete:Tell me, dear, in what do you believe? Although you are a good and loveworthy man, religion means little to you, that I know.

Faust:Let that be, my child! You feel my love, is it not true? For those I love, I’d lay my life down too; I would rob no one of his faith and trust.

Margarete:That’s not enough! One must believe, one must!

Faust:Must one?

Even though Faust has rejected the herd mentality, which includes the requirement that one believe in the tenets of Christianity, he still falls in love with Margarete, who believes in them adamantly. She wants to control Faust’s thinking because she thinks he will be condemned to an eternal punishment if he refuses. She wants what she thinks is best for him. She doesn’t understand the process of self-realization spinning within him. Faust knows full well what it would mean for him to return to the static and narrow views of the Church; he knows that the process would cease. Perhaps he even wishes he had never become involved with Margarete, but, intuitively, he knows that their relationship is part of the process. So, he must learn to balance his love for her with his desire for individuation. Not an easy thing to do!

Faust is not an atheist. Even though he has rejected the Christian concept of God, he has his own view, which he has formulated from his own life experiences. Later in the scene, Faust attempts to explain why he does not fit into Margarete’s mold of what a religious person should be:

Who would dare to say, “I do not believe in Him?”
Experiencing Him everywhere. . .

This entire passage sets out Faust’s religious viewpoint, which seems to be a sort of pantheism. Primarily, I think he is saying that God is everywhere and in everything. Happiness, heart, love, God, Faust says he cannot name it.

Feeling is all!

The feelings we experience when we gaze at a true work of art, or when we look at the stars at night, or when we look into our lover’s eyes. Call it what you will, says Faust, this is his idea of God.

The name is only sound and smoke
Which fogs the glow of Heaven.

Margarete tells him he has no sound Christianity. Then she begins to rail on him for his association with Mephisto. This is quite interesting. We know Mephisto represents Faust’s dark side or his shadow, using the Jungian term. Margarete doesn’t like him at all. She refuses to accept the fact that all human beings have a dark side. She denies her own shadow. She projects her own shadow onto Mephisto. She wants Faust to stay away from him. He, however, recognizes the necessity of Mephisto:

Such queer fish must also be.

Faust has reconciled himself to his dark side, which is a giant step in the process of self-realization. Margarete still has far to go on her journey.

Why did Faust fall in love with Margarete in the first place, seeing they have dissimilar aspirations? The Jungian idea of projecting the anima onto a beautiful woman is intriguing. Faust is searching for his own soul in her. Or is it the anima which does the projecting?

In everything there is tragedy. All good things must run alongside the bad. Faust has found his true love, but he must endure her immaturity and lack of understanding in the matters of Becoming.

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Comments On Faust Part XIX

Recently, I’ve been thinking about what I have in common with Faust. No, I am not a distinguished doctor of learning, nor do I come from a family where the emphasis is on scholarship, but I have sought answers to the puzzling questions of the universe and my own existence. The result was I found myself scratching my head in utter dismay. During the 1980’s, I read book after book in an attempt to discover what my purpose was in the scheme of things. I never realized back then that I would end up in a university studying philosophy. Of course, I came to academia to discover what I had not found in the books I read. Well, I am no closer to solving the mysteries of our world than I was back then. But this, of course, is how it is meant to be. Wrestling with ignorance and calamity is actually helpful to someone who is interested in Becoming.

I have gained self-knowledge, as Faust does in the story. He becomes disgusted with learning. He begins to evolve as a human being through experiences, provided to him by Mephisto. In my own case, I suppose I led a somewhat cloistered life, apart from going to work. At one point in my life in the 80’s, I would come home every night and read. I read all sorts of books. Eventually, I began to read Kierkegaard and Dostoevsky and found companions. They showed me how crucial introspection is to a human being. Prior to that, I was looking outside myself for answers. Primarily, I was looking to Christianity, which my mother taught me to believe in at a young age. It didn’t happen overnight, but during my second year at the university, I realized that the Church could not answer the questions I was posing.

When I read Nietzsche in college I came to see how important it is to create and mold one’s own life. That is what Faust chose to do when he made the pact with Mephisto. No, I have not cut a deal with the Devil; I have done something better–I have dealt with myself. Mephisto is a symbol for all that Faust considered dark within himself. I faced my own dark side when I broke away from the religion of my parents. I decided that how I lived my life was up to me; no one else could walk in my shoes, so why should I allow anyone else to choose my thoughts and beliefs for me? In this way, I felt reborn.

I think Faust also experiences a similar feeling of renewal when he begins to experience a world which he has never known before. All his life, he has been the lonely scholar, shut up in his study, poring over the tomes. In fact, thirty years are removed from his life after the pact with Mephisto through the witch’s potion. He becomes a young, vibrant man again. Even though he must experience both sorrow and happiness, through this process he is growing, he is Becoming a self-realized man.

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Comments On Faust Part XVIII

This article continues the comparison of Faust with Zarathustra’s metaphor of the child.

The child is a new beginning, a creative fire.

When long-held beliefs have been called into question by the camel, and then destroyed by the lion, one enters a new epoch. After a time, the values one has created for oneself become obsolete. These must not be allowed to become sacred cows, for, eventually, they must be destroyed and replaced by new values. The spirit of the camel will question whether these beliefs are still viable. If not, the spirit of the lion will destroy them. Then comes a new beginning, the spirit of the child, who will bring about the creation of new values. This cyclical process never ends, unless one becomes stagnant, i.e., if one ceases to create by returning to a notion of static Being.

After Faust’s pact with Mephisto, he enters this new state of being. His values are now completely his own. He is not depending on society at large for moral guidance. What he deems good and acceptable will be tried in the crucible of life. There, his decisions will be put to the test. The crucial point, however, is that he is choosing what is best for himself. No matter what the outcome, the ability to choose his own lifestyle, his own beliefs, and his own thoughts, is what propels him along the path of self-realization. It is a path every individual must travel alone.

The child has no knowledge of anything eternal or transcendent. There is only spontaneity and creative play, that is, until we adults pound our values into their heads. After enculturation is complete, they are fortunate if they ever break free from the Thou Shalts of the herd.

Faust is one of the fortunate ones. His disgust for the common ways of thinking and learning has opened up new vistas for him. Even though he has made a deal with a being that is considered evil in the eyes of the masses, he risks all for freedom and creativity. He doesn’t accept the belief that the devil, an eternal being, is battling an eternal deity for eternal souls. He pits his beliefs against the beliefs of the herd in the hope that he will find truth, and be transformed by it. Faust risks being lost for eternity if he is wrong, but he is compelled by a longing for individuation.

The child is a self-propelling wheel. At this stage of transformation, the child possesses the will to power, or the power to roll its own wheel. Creation is the wheel which is propelled along by the will. As long as it is understood that all is Becoming, the wheel continues to roll along.

In a life that is Becoming, all is not always pleasant and rosy. The responsibility to create one’s own values is sometimes accompanied by the pain which follows failure. The ability to choose does not mean that all decisions are correct. This, however, is the way the wheel turns.

Becoming is in the turning itself, not in correct or incorrect decisions. Faust must face the pain that is caused by his relationship with Margarete. Through experiencing both the pleasure and the agony of his love for her, he will learn more about the human heart than all the books in the world could teach him.

Think of how the earth continually creates and re-creates. Every spring, new life bursts forth. There is a period of growth, decay, and then death. Creators always pass through such periods. The child represents growth, i.e., the growth of new realities. The camel eventually doubts these realities (decay), and the lion destroys them (death). Then, once more, the child creates new ones, and the process begins all over again. Thus is the life of Becoming for Faust and for all of us who struggle for truth and freedom.

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Comments On Faust Part XVII

So far, we have seen several parallels of transformation between Nietzsche’s Zarathustra and Goethe’s Faust. The latter has passed through the stages of camel and lion, and is now ready to proceed on to the next level, that of the child.

As was mentioned earlier, the lion is victorious in its battle with the Great Dragon; the dragon has been slain, thus “Thou Shalt” holds no power. The lion has declared its freedom from being told what to think and what to believe. It has created freedom for itself.

Faust has professed his freedom by saying “No” to the mainstream modes of thought. His pact with Mephisto is his declaration that he will no longer serve the Great Dragon.

One thing remains: the lion is not capable of creating new values for itself. It is merely a warrior. Its talent lies in destruction. For creation, another metamorphosis must take place: the lion must become a child. Zarathustra says,

But tell me, my brothers, what can the child do that the lion cannot? The child is innocence and forgetfulness, a new beginning, a sport, a self-propelling wheel, a first motion, a sacred Yes.

In his quest for knowledge of the universe, Faust has stepped into a universe of freedom and constant experience, much like the universe of a child:

If ever I stretch upon an idler’s bed,
Then let my doom descend!

The pact states that Mephisto will provide incessant experience for Faust until the day he feels satisfied. On that day, Mephisto will collect what belongs to him.

How is this like the child metaphor in Zarathustra? The child is innocence. It has no sense of what life was like when the dragon was still alive. There is no guilt because there is no awareness of Thou Shalt. It knows only Becoming–awaking each day to discover a new idea, a new game to play, a new world to explore. Now Faust is this child. He awakes each day to a new adventure and a new way of thinking about his world. His objective is self-realization, toward which he is daily Becoming. All is flux, all is process.

The child is forgetfulness. It has forgotten the heavy burdens of duty and the longing for freedom. Now, it constantly abides in freedom. It has forgotten the golden scales of the dragon. It has forgotten the ancient ways of the past, the so-called eternal values and standards. It lives only for the moment. Again, this is Faust after the pact. He allows the shackles of “Thou Shalt” to drop from his hands and feet. The idealism he once believed in is gone like last year’s leaves. Now, he relishes the freedom of the moment, the freedom to think and do things, which, before the pact, he would have thought outrageous and obscene.

By his affirmation of freedom, Faust has loudly voiced the sacred Yes of the child. Before, the spirit had no will of its own. It was controlled by the beliefs of others, by the beliefs of the herd. But the sacred No was spoken by the lion. Faust now has no sense of duty; he is not impelled to act in any other way than the behavior he chooses. The sacred Yes was needed in order for creativity to be unleashed, for new values to be invented.

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