The ultimate goal of the Veda is ‘knowledge’, according to the Upaniṣad-s. Some sages say that this knowledge is contained in a single sentence. Others, who are a bit more eloquent, indicate that it is all about the nature of the world and that of the Self. They teach that « the world is a triad consisting of name, form and action »ⁱ, but that the world is also « One », and that this « One » is the Self.

What is the Self? In appearance, the Self is ‘like’ the world, but it also possesses immortality. « The Self is one and is this triad. And it is the Immortal, hidden by reality. Verily, the Immortal is breath, reality is name and form. This breath is here hidden by both of them ».ⁱⁱ In the world, name and form ‘hide’ the immortal breath, which acts without word or form, remaining ‘hidden’.

What does this opposition between ‘name, form, action’ on the one hand, and ‘breath’ on the other, really mean? If everything is ‘one’, why this separation between mortal and immortal realities? Why is the reality of the world so unreal, why is it so obviously fleeting, ephemeral, separated from the One? Perhaps, in a way that is difficult for man to conceive, reality participates in some way in the One, and consequently participates in the Immortal? Reality is apparently separate from the One, but it is also said to ‘hide’ It, to ‘cover’ It with the veil of the very stuff of its so called ‘reality’, of its ‘appearance’. Reality is separate from the One, but in a way it remains in contact with It, just like a hiding place contains what it hides, as a garment covers nakedness, as illusion covers ignorance, as existence veils essence. Why is this so? Why are these grandiose entities, the Self, the World, Man, metaphysically disjointed, separated? If they are separate from the Self, what is the point of the World and Man, lost in an adventure that seems to go way beyond them? What is the profound raison d’être of this metaphysical disposition?

Though not answering directly to this question, and several centuries after Plotinus (cf. Ennead V,3) and Master Eckhart, C.G. Jung re-invigorated a promising avenue of research when he identified the Self and the Unconscious with God. « As far as the Self is concerned, I might say that it is an equivalent of God. »ⁱⁱⁱ « The Self in its divinity (i.e. the archetype) is not conscious of this divinity (…) In man, God sees Himself from the « outside » and thus becomes conscious of His own form. »^iv

The fundamental idea, here, is that God needs man’s consciousness, in some strange and mysterious manner. This is, in fact, the reason for man’s creation. Jung postulates « the existence of a [supreme] being that is essentially unconscious. Such a model would explain why God created a man endowed with consciousness and why He seeks to achieve His goal in him. On this point, the Old Testament, the New Testament and Buddhism agree. Master Eckhart says that ‘God is not happy in his divinity. He has to be born in man. That’s what happened with Job: the Creator sees himself through the eyes of human consciousness« .^v

How can we explain the fact that the Self is not fully conscious of Itself, and even that It seems more unconscious than conscious? The Self is so infinite that It cannot have full, absolute awareness of Itself. All consciousness implies a focus on itself, an attention to itself. It would therefore be contrary to the essence of a consciousness, and even more so of an infinite consciousness, for it to be ‘aware’ at once of infinitely everything, of infinitely past times and infinitely future times. The idea of a complete, infinite consciousness, of an infinite omniscience, or ‘omni-consciousness’, is an oxymoron, a self-contradiction. Why? If the Self is truly, absolutely infinite, It is infinite both in act and in potential. But consciousness is only in act, since being conscious is an act. On the other hand, the unconscious is not in act, it is in potential. It is indeed conceivable that the Self can be put in act, everywhere in the world, in the heart of every human being. But we cannot imagine that the Self can put in act, here and now, everything that is still in potential (i.e. not yet realised) in the infinite range of possibilities. For example, the Self cannot be ‘put in act’, here and now, in the minds of men who do not yet exist, who may perhaps exist tomorrow, – these men of the countless generations to come, who are only ‘potentially’ yet to come into existence. Consequently, there is an important part of the unconscious in the Self. The Self does not have a total, absolute consciousness of Itself, but only an awareness of what is in act within Itself. It therefore ‘needs’ to realise the part of the unconscious that is in Itself, which remains in potential, and which it perhaps depends, to a certain extent, on the World and on Man to be realised.

The role of reality, the world and the triad ‘name, form, action’ is to help the Self to realise its share of unconscious power. Only ‘reality’ can ‘realise’ what the Self expects of it. This ‘realisation’ helps to bring out the part of the unconscious and the part of potential that the Self ‘hides’ in its in-finite unconscious. The Self has been walking its own path since eternity, and will continue to do so in the eternities to come. In this in-finite adventure, the Self wants to emerge from its own self-presence. It wants to ‘dream’ of what It ‘will be’. The Self ‘dreams’ creation, the World and Man, in order to continue to bring about ‘in act’ what is still ‘in potential’ within Itself. It is in this way that the Self knows Itself better – through the existence of that which is not the Self, but which participates in It. The Self thus learns more about Itself than if It remained alone. Its immortality and infinity live and are nourished by this power of renewal – an absolute renewal because it comes from that which is not absolutely the Self, but from that which is other than the Self (Man, the World). The World and Man ‘are’ in the dream of the God, says the Veda. But the Veda also gives Man the very name of the God, Puruṣa, also called Prajāpati, the ‘Lord of creatures’, and whom the Upaniṣad also call the Self, ātman. Man is the dream of the God who dreams that He does not yet know what He will be. This is not positive ignorance, only putative. What is ignored is only the in-finite of a future that remains to be made to happen.

On Mount Horeb, at another time, the Self made known another of Its names: « I will be who I will be ».^vi God revealed himself to Moses through the verb « to be », conjugated with the « imperfect » tense. The Hebrew language lifts a part of the veil. From the grammatical point of view, God’s « being » is « imperfect », or « yet unaccomplished », like the verb (אֶהְיֶה) that He uses to designate Himself.

God made a « wager » when He created His creation, by accepting that the non-Self would coexist with the Self in the time of His dream. He gambled that Man, through names, forms and actions, would help the divinity to ‘perfect’, or to ‘accomplish’ the realisation of the Self, which is still to be made, still to be created, still in the making. God dreams that Man, placed in His presence, will deliver Him from His relative absence (from Himself). In the meantime, His power sleeps a dreamless sleep, resting in the dark abyss of His in-finite un-consciousness. His power conceals what God dreams of, and also conceals what He still longs for. In His own light, God knows no other night than His own.

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iB.U. 1.6.1

ii B.U. 1.6.1

iiiC.G. Jung. Letter to Prof. Gebhard Frei. 13 January 1948. The Divine in Man. Albin Michel.1999. p.191

ivC.G. Jung. Letter to Aniela Jaffé. 3 September 1943. The Divine in Man. Albin Michel.1999. p.185-186

vC.G. Jung. Letter to Rev Morton Kelsey. 3 May 1958. The Divine in Man. Albin Michel.1999. p.133

viאֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה . Ex 3,14