In later life this fourfold development may be consciously evolved, though many fail to realize it because they are unaware of their freedom and so have no creative center. They merely succumb to the spells of the unconscious, forgetting the reality of freedom in its psychological symbols. For the symbols of individuation which appear in dreams and fantasies grow as vehicles for freedom and follow the actual “pattern” of freedom. They may grow even if freedom is unrealized—just as some people have brains but no minds—but it is usual that in such cases the dream pictures show the four faculties with an empty or undeveloped center. But Jung describes the center as a “virtual point between the ego and the unconscious” because, as we have seen, freedom arises from total acceptance. That acceptance is not just the one-sided act of the ego “letting go” to life or the unconscious and so denying completely its egoistic nature. This is a false dualism. Total acceptance includes both the ego and the unconscious, pays due regard to the demands of both and unites them without destroying their functional difference. Therefore in the process of individuation the psyche may be said to grow a new “organ” which Jung calls the self as distinct from the ego on the one hand, and the unconscious on the other. This self, as the vehicle of freedom, appears as a rule only in the ripeness of years when freedom has become a habit and has shaped the human organism to suit its ends, just as perpetually running water carves out a permanent course in the rock. This is the fulfillment of personality.
The Opposites as an Expression of Love
But in some ways even more important is the immediate result of a genuine realization of freedom. This is that response of the individual to God known as worship or adoration, having its foundation in love. In the understanding of our freedom we learn that however low we may sink, we can never separate ourselves from the power of life and the love of God. For in learning to accept all possible states of our own souls, we learn that God accepts all possible types of human being, animal, and devil. The physical symbol of this love is the sun, though, like all physical symbols, it is incomplete. Although the physical universe visits us with both joy and pain, life and death, in the spiritual realm all these opposites are reconciled. Not only are they mutually necessary to one another, but, taken together, life and death constitute a more glorious life than life alone—a truth which can only be proved in acceptance. For if we can learn to love both life and death, we find that life and death are in turn an expression of love. If we can learn to love, to accord freedom to both the heights and the depths of our own nature, we shall instantly realize that this love is not something that we have produced alone but is in the very nature of the universe, and that our heights and depths are unintelligible without it. Just as love is the meaning of man and woman and has its symbol in the child, so only love can explain all other opposites under the sun. And this meaning, this love which is the raison d’être of opposites exists long before our acceptance of the opposites reveals it, for acceptance is only a way of seeing that which already exists. Without these many opposites there could no more be a universe than there could be melody without the sounding and silencing of notes, and only those who do not accept them can complain that the universe was unfortunately arranged. Unaccepted, the universe has no meaning; it is senseless fate and chaos, but acceptance is a way of discovering meaning, not of manufacturing it.
Thus there are heights and depths in man just as there is day and night in the external world, and both are seen as manifestations of the love of God when man himself learns to love them, for the love of God and acceptance by man are two aspects of one and the same reality. In the words of Eckhart, “As God can only be seen by His own light, so He can only be loved by His own love.”3 Love, however, is not to be confused with liking; we may love the opposites, but because of our human nature we cannot always like them. Only the pervert actually likes suffering, but the love of suffering is known in giving freedom to your dislike of it; for without dislike on our part, suffering is no longer suffering.4
The Grateful Renunciation
The revelation through acceptance that in love we are free as to both our heights and our depths, calls out from us a response of love and wonder for life and for God, if we can see life as the outer aspect of God. We remember the words of St. Augustine, “Love, and do as you will,” for in love, as in acceptance, man denies no aspect of his nature. He realizes that life or God has given him freedom to be everything and anything that is in him, whether good or evil. But, as Eckhart says, “there is no inner freedom which does not manifest itself in works of love.”5 For the free man is so filled with gratitude to life for the freedom to be all of himself that he joyfully renounces it. This is where true freedom guards itself against abuse. Gratitude makes it possible to sacrifice the freedom to be immoral in the realization that immorality and sin are petty and tedious. In a universe where freedom of the spirit offers such gigantic possibilities, sin is a simple waste of time. To use a commonplace analogy, it is like gorging oneself with saccharine when one might be eating a skillfully prepared banquet. For in the last analysis sin is bad taste; it is sensationalism as distinct from sensibility.
Because of his gratitude the free man’s religion is principally a means of saying, “Thank you.” It is no longer a means of discovering salvation, for religion as a quest for personal illumination is necessary but selfish, and until freedom is discovered it is a blind attempt to create for oneself what is simply to be had for the taking—“searching for fire with a lighted lantern.” Thus the religion of freedom consists of using that freedom and giving thanks for it, because it is only a dead faith that does not show itself in works. At the same time freedom is a tremendous responsibility. There is a saying that though God forgives you, nature never forgives, for the free man does not escape in any way from the material consequences of folly. If he abuses his freedom he does not lose it, but he has to pay the material price for abuse—a price which is greater for him than for others. It is as if his thoughts and deeds were informed with a greater power and thus produced more powerful results. All men use the power of God, but those who use it in full consciousness have to be particularly careful how they use it. It is difficult to believe, however, that anything but a radical misunderstanding of freedom could lead to abuse, so great is the gratitude which arises from true understanding.
As a rule this gratitude demands expression in the ritual of worship, for some rituals were originally a dance of joy. As Christ is made to sing in the apocryphal Acts of John:6
Grace danceth. I would pipe; dance ye all.
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