Carl Jung The Theory of Psychoanalysis

The following article is a very brief highlight of certain points raised in Carl Jung’s 1915 The Theory of Psychoanalysis, and should not be though of as the last word with respect to the current state of affairs in psychology, or in Jung’s own theory, which was to become much more developed later on. What is interesting about this book, besides its historical importance in the development of the field of psychology, is the way Jung improves upon Freud’s ideas in a more mature way than his predecessor; namely, where Freud is notably arrogant about his swift conjectures and categorical claims, Jung presents his ideas more humbly and reservedly, which is possibly the reason why his derivations are more prudently logical and so more conservative in terms of the distance between ideas; Jung also gets farther because the copiousness of his ideas is higher, and so a more convincing and substantial train of thought is explored. So, not only is the tone of conversation markedly different when reading Jung, revealing a gulf of character in between the two thinkers (“scientists”), but such a difference is manifested in the degree of care and scientific openness with which possibilities are treated. Needless to say, Jung remains immensely respectful and reverential towards his late teacher, awarding him all the credit for all original ideas while presenting himself as simply the author of logical derivations thereof.

It is interesting that fanboys of psychoanalysis perceive Freud as being far more intelligent than Jung, since the most salient character difference is the arrogance and brave conjecturing of the older man. Tangentially, something similar happens with the work of Karl Marx (another star in the same ideological camp), who can write pages upon pages of empty banter and bland ideas to illustrate rather basic concepts of common sense. The art of both of these Jewish authors consists in appearing more innovative and smart than the logical and relevant content actually merits. Like Marx, Freud also can expound pages upon pages of very organized, yet very bland and obvious material (see, for instance, his work on dreams). Only those with a lack of ability for systematic thought can be impressed by any of this (the whole discipline of sociology is based on their nonsense, so perhaps Pentti Linkola is right about the limited average intelligence in that area of academic endeavour).

The most important idea to be highlighted in Jung’s The Theory of Psychoanalysis is the improvement upon the concept of libido of Freud. The issue is first presented specifying Freud’s usage and understanding of it as libido sexualis, a drive of a specifically sexual nature. Differentiated from this is the more general term of libido as handled by Jung. The main difference is that rather than defining everything in terms of sexuality, Jung argues that it makes more sense to see as a kind of mental energy that requires an outlet and so a direction. His argument is based on the fact that to base libido on sexual impulse is as justified as basing it on the “nutritioning” impulse (the drive to eat), making the latter even more plausible since younger infants are more clearly driven by an impulse to feed at an earlier stage. Jung says, quite logically and anticipating just objections by balance thinkers, that making a choice for either is completely arbitrary, and is even more tendentious in the case of libido as simply sexual drive. What libido noticeably is, moreover, can be seen as the cause of a drive towards interests and activities, and which drive behaves like a natural resource that can overflow and cause problems when not attended to consciously. Finally, while Freud’s concept serves to simply to diagnose and excuse a purportedly originally sinful nature in humans, Jung’s usage gives a functional solution that can be plausibly used to resolve knots in the human psyche.

Jung goes on to identify and functionally define three different events common to the interaction between conscious and unconscious. The first of these is resistance, which is the difficulty faced by the consciousness to identify and be able to confront the unconscious; then we have regression, which is related to fixations, the work of unresolved issues which Jung views as problems to be solved in the present through action rather than spun in often false memories of the past; finally, the concept of perversion is clarified so that the common view held by Freudians of children and so humans as “intrinsically rotten” (Middle-Eastern type of morality under the feet of atheists) is put to shame is little more than wanton conjecture: many behaviors that may be considered out of order in adults are normal for the developing mind of a child, and this includes an open curiosity for bodily sensations of pleasure —perversion entails being past the biological stage when such exploration and maturation should have happened, a disparity between libido ‘direction’, so to speak, and biological and mental stage of development.

The practical beauty of the corrections introduced by Jung (which is a great addition to its logical cogency and substantial contribution) is the possibility of resolving and utilising libido consciously by integrating it into conscious will. Jung argues that as this energy is actively refocused into a conscious activity by creating interest and active focus in this different area, libido can become absent from the fixated area of the psyche. Not only does he present the idea as a theory but bases it on years upon years of the experience of a community of psychiatrists and psychologists with patients of different kinds (backgrounds, ages, genders, etc.). This is also why libido can be seen, in this energetic theory of Jung, as a resource with a finite quantity, and which resource he himself portrays as a stream with a certain volume of water flowing in it, and which stream can be redirected, though it can also naturally returned to its original channel if not thoroughly handled.

Given the functional abstraction of the overall mental energy behind mental processes, it is unsurprising that Jung ended up studying esotericism and the occult in general, although this is apparent to those who have at least seriously studied and understood the mechanical and logical aspects of the occult, rather than basing their opinion on fantasies and legends. The interested reader would do well to take Jung and his take on alchemy by its worth as logical proposition and plausibility, instead of moronically asking for “sources” for his interpretations as though evidence could not lead to original propositions and plausible reconstructions. Study Jung, ditch Freud; learn the mechanics of occult thought, ditch religions and materialist atheism.

Varg Vikernes Sorcery and Religion in Ancient Scandinavia

Having read the basic ideas and stories of Scandinavian mythology is relatively enough to delve into Vikernes’ main work on the traditions of his forebears. However, there is an even more important requirement without which the typical, ‘educated’, modern type of human being will not get through or will not be able to learn what can be learned here; namely, one must come to terms with the fact that all interpretations and readings of such distant traditions are necessarily but hypotheses and fallible interpretations, where such consideration most definitely includes those hypotheses and fallible interpretations expounded by members of academia. In presenting his ideas in this book, Vikernes would seem to be stepping beyond an imaginary border circumscribed by generations of scholars interpreting Scandinavian traditions, but the fact of the matter is that it is seldom taken into serious account, until people like Vikernes come about, that the vast majority of these interpretations came through an unsuspecting filter of Christian-based morality and referencing. It is taken for granted that if you append more sources, then it must mean that your claims are more rightly justified; in reality and outside the classroom, all manner of intermediary references (that is, references not to the original people and artifacts but rather to provably distorted or secondary sources) can be and usually are entirely off the mark.

Vikernes opens the book by stating that the reader should get rid of all previous conceptions he has of Scandinavian mythology; furthermore, he directly requires from the reader to convince themselves that what Vikernes is saying is the truth, period. If taken conventionally, this is not just an incredibly arrogant and self-entitled way of starting a book, but it is rather strange, not to mention alienating. For those used to exploring truth rather than the appearance of correctness and methodology (to which we can reduce most of the sociological and anthropological illusory “sciences”), there is actually very little problem with this. While now people are used to asking from those claiming something to produce “evidence” or give “reliable references”, which are both but mirages more often than not, it should really be no problem for the reader to verify many of these claims by doing their own research, thereby relieving a book of this kind from that burden so that it can focus on the delivery of original ideas, as indeed Vikernes does here.

To credit of its author, the present book only gets better as one keeps on reading, having started with a plausible yet highly conjectural piecing together of clues regarding the origin of traditions, Vikernes uses this basis as a way to introduce the reconstructed/reinterpreted tradition without yet revealing in full the inspiration for his machinations; he then introduces the runes and their properties, then takes us through a rather esoteric interpretation of the Voluspa, to finally culminate in a highly inspirational series of conclusions and explanations that give sound purpose to the expounded tradition beyond mere plausibility. To those with experience learning from philosophy in an organic way, rather than through rote-memorization or by a ‘methodological’ approach, and even more so those used to apprehending from esoteric sources on a variety of subjects and differing opinions, this book can be the source of an immense wealth of details and relations that are not only plausible as a reconstruction but also applicable as a practical system that brings life to a dwindling culture through tradition proper. Tradition, though a firm pole around which the times and more passing features change, does not, as some complain, imply a total stagnation; rather, if it is used to prop up life and excellence, it can be the most effective platform for efficiency unto greatness.

Nevertheless, there are a few things that could be said in favor of the possibility of supplying this book with a heftier dose of explanatory content. While there are some claims that, as we said before, can be verified by the reader on their own without that being too much trouble, the development of interpretations could not be hurt by a more explicit detailing of the process which led to that conclusion, especially as those interpretations are surely based on specific passages, and certain knowledge of culture that can be indeed found as part as more thorough researches. To the first, easily-verifiable claims belong those like Vikernes’ mention that oak trees tend to get struck by lightning far more often than other trees in the forest (and which he relates to the mythical relation between Loki, Baldr, and his interpretations of customs thereof); while some rather wild and completely non-apparent interpretations of Voluspa verse-groupings through the application of certain rune-rows (which falls in the realm of divination, a well-respected art if coming from people with discernment), and which interpretations Vikernes consistently ultimately applies to customs and beliefs in the most practical way, in a manner after Sir James George Frazer. The latter kind of claims would be immensely enriched if some comparisons and parallels could be drawn between Vikernes’ thought process and what we read in the huge tomes of Frazer’s The Golden Bough. Would it also be too much for Vikernes to reveal more occult sources of insight?

It would not seem to far-fetched, to someone used to reading that sort of literature, that the compact fluidity and efficiency of the book is intended as an esoteric and practical delivery: for those already opened and eager to learn, rather than eager to debate and be convinced, as is the rule in a highly hubristic modern society.



Richard Moult Chamber Music


Martin Heidegger explains, in my own limited and admittedly faulty understanding, the term phusis (or physis) as a central concept within the ancient Greek world view. This term was later translated by the Romans into natura, and thence it came to us as “nature”. However, according to Heidegger, the first interpretation of this word imposes a distortion on the original tractates in ancient Greek which made use of their own term. Phusis is not a fixed entity or grouping of entities, but rather a process of un-concealment. Instead of using the loaded words that refer to ‘being’ in verb and noun, there is a description of ever-denuding, along with an impetus or a counterpart of covering. In between this constant un-concealment and concealment there is another space created, or one that more properly always is. One can say, thus, that nothing changes, but everything is a process of showing itself, while never wholly achieving it; in short, an infinite dynamic of light and darkness and that which is both, or none.

The present musical work may be apprehended as an ethereal representation of a similar concept, though the writer makes no justification of that through a direct, one-to-one reference to structure. Rather, there is in the texture, the main line as transformation and ebbing across the rest of the instrumentation, especially in the ‘Widgael Concerto’, that can give the listener a sensual apprehension of the idea of phusis. The following ‘Hroan Of The Ceri Forest’, also in three parts, provides a curious sense of immanence, perhaps through the frequent use of an effect of suspense in the strings, a sense of stasis streaked with hints and whispers of burgeoning life (and which minutes into the second movement remind one of similar textural  by Rick Wakeman in the more airy parts of ‘Close to the Edge’). This is a music that is at once familiar and distant, friendly but uncaring, aloof; at once embracing yet out of reach. Finding oneself at its mercy, encircled by a whole that is every part, and which raises oneself above oneself, in a unique generous, gesture of triumph within one’s grasp.

The Chamber Music of Richard Moult, moreover, exudes an intensely English aroma, though supple in its admixture of a chilly distance and an autumnal decay, suffused over forms and lives, sharp peaks and dark crevices always beyond, never here. An adroit elegance marks this work, remaining substantial while ungraspable, perhaps the result of an adept handling of musical elements outside the confines of scholarly rigidity, though not rejecting the repertoire of experience guarded by centuries of obsessive love. In it, the simple attains an exquisite richness of details, and that which is grand beyond dimensions becomes apprehensible.

Jordi Savall & Montserrat Figueras El Cant De La Sibil·la: Catalunya

Few classical music performers can boast of the sense of awe and wonder that Jordi Savall re-instills into works from eras in which this art was about surrendering to the grandeur of what can be termed creation, without acquiescing to religious exotericism. In the present performance of the Gregorian-style composition titled ‘The Song of the Sybil’, an additional layer of instruments is added, including sparse percussion and supple string accompaniments that enter and leave the main body of vocal lines like phantasms. One could say that we can hear an originally Christian vocal composition based on an ancient pagan mystery being re-appropriated, by way of artistic and spiritual infusion, of that originally pagan aura that wonders deeply at a mostly hidden cosmos that whispers its secrets here and there, and in which we are but small spectators and explorers, and not the hubristic chosen species of the originally Jewish god given free reign to abuse the Earth as long as they bow down to his mercy, and not daring to look too much beyond exoteric words.

The arrangements upon the score are sensitive and channel all technical artistry towards an organic and vibrant expression that flows into valleys and then soars suddenly in an abrupt upward stare. The instruments, including the magnificent human voices, are utilized with care and in carefully thought out measure, in a way that tells us that not only cold thought was used, but an inner sense of balance between pacing forth and strong statements that ground the whole experience for the listener. This is, indeed, the purpose of the solo-tutti transitions, whose theoretical structuration is the basis for the rest of the winding instrumental voices and decisions. Each time one of the two comes back, it is the a reincarnation: a same essence but a different expression, an immovable rod extending through the state changes of the cosmos whose sequence constitute what we know as ‘time’.

In this musical marvel we may find lessons of all kinds, both explicitly musical as well as metaphorical mysteries of life. What is pertinent for us to say in this specific time and place, is that the dark musical arts, black metal most definitely included, should be taking deep hints from such revived spiritual music from true masters of music, who  in the true solitude and desolation of their times discovered the sequences, and embellished the bodies thereof, of the sound-spirits we hear in art such as that of ‘The Song of the Sybil’. To perceive it in sensual apprehension is but a first step, and an important one in the integral view of things, but true understanding most go beyond, not only to metaphor and tenuous apprehension, but towards an understanding of both ‘esoteric’ as well as mechanical dynamics. Only then, through a full usage of our present human faculties, can we ascend.