The ΞϔΘϪ Theory

When you are alone in winter, when night has fallen, when everything is dark and quiet, sometimes all you can see within yourself are scattered, disconnected thoughts. You add up or subtract the years, we weigh up the long series of events that mercilessly remind us how much time has passed, we measure the slow and irresistible approach of the final darkness, which we may think will engulf everything we love, everything we possess, everything we desire and hope for, everything towards which our life’s efforts have tended. Our consciousness takes on the appearance of a dark cave, undetectable from the surface of the world, in which all kinds of thoughts, fleeting or profound, seem to huddle together, as if they wanted to flee the light of day. Then this insidious fear can arise, the fear of having failed, of not having understood anything, of having missed the truth. It envelops the soul in a heavy, sticky, clinging cloud. The soul then rebels, wanting to rise towards the sky, towards the sun, towards summer, and fly in the crisp, rare air of the peaks.
Life is a movement, an energetic process. It consumes energy (material and spiritual) and also produces it (without us knowing according to what equations of equivalence or transformation). The important question for any individual consciousness is to assess what the ultimate outcome will be, i.e. over the long and even very long term. Like any energetic process, life follows a course that is in principle irreversible; but if we assume that infinity cannot exist in a finite world, all life is necessarily oriented towards its « end », in both senses of the term – the end as a « terminus », precisely, and the end as « meaning ». These two meanings, it should be noted, are in fact potentially contradictory, insofar as an ‘end’ puts an end to ‘meaning’ (of what preceded the ‘end’, on the one hand, and, conversely, any realisation of ‘meaning’ potentially opens up other paths that were previously unthought of and even unthinkable. The « end » of life, according to materialist analyses, would represent a « state of rest », to use a euphemism, or a state of maximum entropy (to borrow a concept from thermodynamics). In the long term, according to the thermodynamic point of view, everything that happens over time is the result of an initial disturbance arising within a state of rest that is a priori perpetual, but which, in this case, gives way to a disturbed state, and then constantly attempts to re-establish a new, more or less definitive state of rest. From a more philosophical point of view, life is teleological par excellence; its telos, or « end », is the intrinsic search for its end (no pun intended), the immanent effort towards its goal, whatever that may be. All living organisms are constantly organising themselves according to objectives that are supposed to enable them to achieve this telos, this very immanent goal. But this definition of life obviously has the disadvantage of being self-referential. If the end of the process is its goal, and if its goal is its end, what place is there for a transcendent telos, which would be above or outside these categories, that of finitude or even that of « finality »? Natural life is fertile ground for the soul; it is the very humus of the human soul. The soul follows the course of life to grow at its own pace, to learn all its movements, and, having assimilated them in part, to finally begin to dance to its own rhythm, in all the moments when it flows quickly, or more slowly but with amplitude, to accompany the symphony to its conclusion. This is why age does not measure a real, unique state of consciousness. Only the entire score of a life could give an idea of the movements of transformation of consciousness that, at any age, are yet to come. But does this score even exist? Isn’t it constantly being developed? This is why consciousness, caught up in the flow of the music of existence, must not look back and cling to notes already played and chords already struck. It must continue to play its part without fear. From the middle of life onwards, only those who become aware of their finitude, only those who are ready to die with life, remain truly alive. At this strange hour in the middle of life, a turning point is reached, the curve is reversed, and death comes into clearer perspective. The second half of life does not mean ascension, fulfilment, growth, exuberance, but slowdown, decline, detachment and finally death, since the end is its goal. The denial of the fulfilment of life is synonymous with the refusal to accept its end. Both are equivalent to not wanting to die, and therefore not wanting to live. Growth and decline are part of the same curve. And as Taylor’s series teach us, it should be possible to derive the curve at a single point, but with all its derivatives to infinity, in order to be able to calculate its future inflections, which would otherwise be inconceivable.
A young-at-heart septuagenarian, isn’t that wonderful? And yet, that is not enough. He must also know how to listen to the secret murmurs of streams, imagine the slopes he has descended, the glaciers left up there near the peaks, but also the bubbling of the tributaries in the valleys, the slow, riverine pace of the basins, and finally the mystery of ocean immersions. In fact, regardless of age, no one really knows what their own « soul » is. We know just as little about how it manifests itself in nature. And we know absolutely nothing about its origin or its true « end ». The facts and « truths » that can be drawn from physical reality are limited to matter and nature. But is the soul physical and material in nature, or metaphysical and spiritual? All we can say, reasoning by analogy, is that a psychic or spiritual ‘truth’ is in principle just as valid and respectable as a physical ‘truth’. All that remains is to identify the world in which this type of psychic truth could exercise its validity. Is it in this world, the world of matter and nature? Or are other worlds possible? The question is obviously open. The key point is that only death can provide an answer (or a non-answer) to this question.

Thoughts of death become increasingly pressing as the years go by. Whether we like it or not, ageing means preparing for death. Nature itself shows us every day that we must prepare for the end. Objectively speaking, what each individual consciousness may think about death is irrelevant. Death is an invariant. It introduces a symmetry break between two states, life and ‘death’. To use the notation bra < | and ket | > introduced by Paul Dirac in quantum mechanics, and if we denote « life » by φ, the formula <φ|…> differs intrinsically from <…|φ> or even from <φ|…|φ>, and it differs even more from <φ|… |ϠΛΦ |…| ΞϔΘϪ>. The … here symbolise our ignorance of what follows death and the break it introduces, symbolised by |. As for the capital letters Ϡ Λ Φ Ξ ϔ Θ Ϫ ⁱ, they symbolise other concepts to which I will return later i. Subjectively, there is a huge difference between a consciousness that willingly and sincerely accompanies the rhythm of life until death and a consciousness that clings to artificial opinions about the meaning of life and its supposed opposite, death. It is just as neurotic in old age not to focus on the approaching prospect of death as it is in youth not to let oneself be overwhelmed by the intoxication of possibilities and the future. Jung says somewhere that he was surprised to see how little importance the « unconscious psyche » attaches to death. It would seem that death represents something relatively insignificant for it. Perhaps the psyche does not care what happens to the individual? It would essentially be linked to the collective unconscious, and therefore to the future and the « end » of the total, collective psyche. It also seems that the « psyche » specific to a particular person is interested in how that person feels about the prospect of death: it is more concerned with whether the attitude of consciousness is appropriate to the reality of death than with death itself. From this point of view, the fact that a singular consciousness is totally incapable of imagining another form of existence, in a world devoid of space and time, in no way proves that such an existence is impossible in itself. We cannot draw any absolute conclusions about the reality or unreality of forms of existence outside this space-time (in Riemann’s sense), i.e. outside this world. We are not entitled to deduce, based on the quality of our perceptions and our spatio-temporal intuitions in this life, that no other forms of existence exist, for example in types of space that are no longer spatio-temporal, but in spaces that could be described as « noetic » or « spiritual ». Drawing inspiration from models commonly used in quantum chromodynamics, and from metaphors such as that of the « quantum vacuum » discussed in my article The Void and the Soul, it is not only permissible to doubt the absolute validity of the spatio-temporal perceptions associated with this world, but it is even imperative to do so, given the available facts and advances in science. In other words, the quantum world, which is very much part of « reality », also reveals all the limitations of the spatio-temporal conceptions of Riemannian space-time. The hypothesis that the psyche is linked to forms of existence outside Riemannian space-time raises scientific questions that deserve serious consideration. The conceptual apparatus of quantum chromodynamics would allow this to be done within a rigorous framework, which has been validated by numerous empirical experiments. I do not mean to say that quantum chromodynamics itself holds the answer to philosophical or spiritual questions. I simply wish to express the idea that it offers an excellent learning tool for the development of more general, broader and perhaps more universal frameworks of thought, and that this movement towards greater generality and universality could also be put to good use in more creative and inventive philosophical and spiritual questioning. From a philosophical point of view, the existence and unity of a particular Riemannian space-time structure, with its singularity but also its « limits », means that the very concept of space-time must be relativised. If I wish to take advantage of the creative freedom offered by this « relativity », I could then imagine that death in this world, in this Riemannian space-time called « cosmos », actually allows us to translate ourselves into another world, no longer composed of lengths, widths and depths (x, y, z), but endowed with transcendental dimensions denoted by Ϡ, Λ, Φ, or, even more surprisingly, of dimensions without dimensions, denoted by Ξ, ϔ, Θ, Ϫ. This world could also be seen as a chaos-cosmos-noos-theos, whose virtualities, intricately intertwined to the fourth power, would be essentially and eternally « unaccomplished » (in the sense of the « unaccomplished » or « imperfect » mode of Hebrew grammar, as particularly highlighted in Ex. 3:14).

The nature of the psyche extends into areas of darkness that are far beyond our understanding. It conceals more enigmas than the universe with its nebulae, galactic clusters and black holes. This extreme weakness of human understanding regarding the nature of the psyche makes the materialistic, positivist and intellectualist hubbub not only ridiculous, but also deplorably boring. So, in accordance with the impulses of the ancient lessons of human wisdom, and taking into account the psychological fact that religious ‘revelations’, brilliant ‘intuitions’ and ‘telepathic’ perceptions have already occurred and been observed in reality, one would be perfectly justified in concluding that the psyche, in its most unfathomable depths, also participates in a form of existence beyond space and time, within a chaos-cosmos-noos-theos quaternion, to which critical reason could not oppose any a priori argument, any more than it can deny the emergence, within the quantum vacuum, of « virtual » particles with nevertheless very « real » effects.

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iThey are read respectively as Ϡ sampi, Λ lambda, Φ phi, Ξ xi, ϔ upsilon (with diaeresis), Θ theta and Ϫ gangia (the first six are Greek, the last is Coptic). They symbolise consciousness, ecstasy, love, sacrifice, ecstasy, the divine, and transcendence.

The vacuum and the soul

Publié par Philippe Quéau

According to experimental results from quantum chromodynamics (QCD), the « vacuum » is not empty. The « vacuum » is actually a dynamic and complex medium, sometimes compared to a kind of « quantum molasses ». An infinite number of virtual particles constantly appear in it, including virtual pairs of quarks and anti-quarks, which explain the confinement of quarks in hadrons, as well as the emergence of their mass (hadronic mass). The « quantum vacuum » fills the infinitesimal spaces between atoms, but also between electrons and their nuclei, and even between quarks confined in protons, with virtual particles. In this « vacuum », pairs of virtual quarks and anti-quarks « condense », forming a « chiral condensate » whose symmetry they can occasionally « break ». When a real quark moves through the chiral condensate, it constantly interacts with virtual quark-antiquark pairs (qq̅ ) and thereby acquires an « effective » mass. The « bareⁱ » quark has an energy between 5 and 20 MeV, but when it interacts with the chiral condensate, it becomes a « clothed » quark with an effective mass between 300 and 500 MeVⁱⁱ. This mechanism of mass acquisition is general, and it is the role of the quantum vacuum to make it possible. The effective mass of a proton (also represented by its energy: E=mc²) can be analysed as consisting of the kinetic energy of its quarks plus the binding energy (the energy of the gluons that « glue » the quarks together and keep them confined). In summary, the mass of the proton is constituted by the interaction of the three valence quarks (uud) with an immense « sea » of virtual quarks of all colours and flavours (uū + dd̅+ ss̅ + …), gluons and chiral condensate. The interaction of real quarks with this virtual « sea » explains why the actual mass of the proton is 938 MeV, while the mass of the « bare » proton is only 23 MeV.

With these elements in place, and to illustrate the point, we could compare the quantum vacuum to a (giant) diamond. The chiral condensate of the vacuum would then correspond to the network of carbon atoms structuring the diamond; the excitations of the hadronsⁱⁱⁱ would be comparable to the vibrations of phonons in the crystal; the chiral symmetry breaks would be analogous to the translational symmetry breaks in the diamond; the « rigidity » of the vacuum, which is measured on the Λ_QCD energy scale (approximately 200 MeV), could be related to that of diamond (which is represented by Young’s moduli), and hadronic masses could be compared to phonon frequencies. These structural and functional analogies, listed point by point, seem to indicate the presence of a profound form of isomorphism between two very different states of nature, that of the quantum vacuum and that of crystalline matter. This invites us to hypothesise the existence of archetypal structures in the physical world. I would like to propose generalising the hypothesis of these archetypal structures to other phenomena, which are even more complex and which are not of a « physical » but rather a « psychic » and « spiritual » nature. In other words, the analogies mentioned above could serve as models, for example, to heuristically explore the nature of the mind (or soul). By generalising the analogical method, we could consider that it would be possible to match the chiral condensate of the vacuum and the networks of atoms in crystals with an intensive noosphere structuring the universe. Hadron excitations and phonon vibrations could be compared to the « emotions », « intuitions » and « ideas » of minds immersed in the noosphere. Chiral or translational symmetry breaks could be analogous to the appearance or disappearance of volitions and decision-making or renunciations that determine choices and actions. The « rigidity » of the vacuum and that of diamond could be related to the « rigidity » or, conversely, the « flexibility » (intellectual, spiritual and moral) of personality, character and the mind’s capacity for evolution. The increase in hadronic masses and the different frequencies of phonons could serve as metaphors for the possible strengthening of the qualities of the mind (intelligence, memory, will). Without wishing to overstate the case, I will content myself with offering a few suggestions here.

What matters most is the proposed method, which consists of drawing on an extremely rich reservoir of concepts and images (in this case, related to the field of quantum physics, and more specifically, quantum chromodynamics), and attempting to deduce new insights into the nature of the mind and soul. Our ideas on this subject have too often remained limited by the conceptions and images that have been forged over thousands of years, without ever really being creatively renewed, subject to a certain conservatism inherent in these notions. This is certainly not a matter of comparing the soul to a phonon or the mind to a hadron. Rather, it is a matter of reflecting on the possibility of using a powerful set of interconnected metaphors, forming an incredibly effective theoretical framework, and undeniably representing one of the greatest intellectual achievements of ‘modernity’. We propose to draw freely on this framework to propose other explanatory models for the emergence of consciousness, the nature of the mind and the soul, and to attempt to spin new types of metaphors in the spiritual and psychological realm. For example, to remain faithful to metaphors related to quantum vacuum, just as we see that the mass of hadrons comes from the « rigidity » of the vacuum, just as the frequency of phonons comes from interatomic forces, so we could conjecture that the « power of love » could emerge from the « force of (moral) law » (and vice versa) . One could also imagine that radical breaks in symmetry in the psychic or intellectual order, such as those caused by « revelations », « trances » or « ecstasies », would be such as to predict the very real existence of a « spiritual » or « noetic » condensate, existing separately from the material world. Just as the emergence of « mass » is not a property of elementary particles, but results from their dynamic interactions with the quantum vacuum, so too could one conjecture that the « mind » does not emerge from neurons and synapses, but that it gradually emerges from the interaction of certain psychic, spiritual and noetic particles with another kind of vacuum, the « Divine Void », analogous in a sense to Hesiod’s Chaos^iv. What would these « noetic » particles be? Just as we speak of phonons and hadrons, mesons and pions, why not imagine various types of « noöns« ^v and « psyons » that would be the essential components of all kinds of consciousness, all varieties of souls and all kinds of spirits, which the most ancient and diverse cultures have continually evoked in their spiritual, religious, cultural and artistic traditions for millennia.

I would like to conclude (provisionally) by inviting the reader to meditate on a symmetry breaking that is particularly significant for any (human) mind, namely that caused by physical death. If we follow the logic of chiral symmetry breaking as the source of the increase in hadron mass, then the symmetry breaking represented by death is undoubtedly the cause of a significant increase in the « noetic » energy of the soul after death. Death, for the soul, would have an effect equivalent to the increase in hadronic mass for the quark. At the moment of death, the noöns and psyons of the soul would become particularly excited and their energy would increase tenfold, intertwining with other particles constituting the psychic « sea » and criss-crossing the noosphere….

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iCf https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Current_quark

iiQuark masses: the masses of U and D quarks are solely due to the influence of the Higgs field. The influence of the gluon field must also be taken into account, which is responsible for an average of nearly 300 MeV.c-2 per quark, or almost the entire mass. In fact, when we divide the mass of a nucleon by three (the number of quarks), we find ~300 MeV.c-2 (with estimates of only 4 to 8 MeV.c-2 for the D quark and 1.5 to 4 MeV.c-2 for the U quark).

iiiHadrons are particles composed of quarks, the only « building blocks » of matter that participate in strong interaction. They can be composed of three quarks, in which case they are baryons, or of one quark and one antiquark, in which case they are mesons.

ivIn Hesiod’s Theogony, the « Void », called Chaos in Greek, has the status of a primordial deity: « Before all things was Chaos, and then Gaia, broad-breasted, ever-firm seat of all the Immortals who dwell on the snowy peaks of Olympus and in the dark Tartarus in the depths of the spacious earth, and then Eros, the most beautiful of the Immortal Gods, who breaks the forces and who tames the intelligence and wisdom in the hearts of all Gods and men. And from Chaos were born Erebos (Darkness) and black Nyx (Night). » (Theogony)

vI propose creating the neologism « nöon », formed from the Greek noos « mind », and « psyon », formed from the Greek psyche « soul », as « noetic » and « psychic » equivalents of hadrons, mesons, photons and other phonons.

The Occasional Mover

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Occasion » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2026

Aristotle deemed it necessary to introduce the idea of a Prime Mover into his Metaphysics. In doing so, he had no other motive than to follow the logic of his reasoning, focusing on the idea of « movement », an idea that is also primary when taken in all its general meanings. However, this Aristotelian God, abstract and purely conceptual, was hardly compatible with the pursuit of strictly religious ends. He might seem, for example, rather unsuited to popular devotional practices, such as those observed towards a ‘personal’ or ‘tribal’ God, or towards a deity who is certainly not abstract and who intervenes more or less indiscriminately in the history of the world and humanity. Nevertheless, the philosopher’s invention of a « Prime Mover » represented a significant step in the history of rational rather than mythological thought. The expression « Prime Mover » also reveals the importance of the idea of movement in Aristotelian physics, which involved various kinds of « movers » and a multiplicity of « moved » things. The initial cause of (general) Movement could not itself be « mobile », otherwise there would be infinite regression. The first cause is therefore immobile. It is this cause that is called the « Prime Mover », « eternal », « immobile », « intelligible » and « separate » from all (mobile) beingsⁱ. Today, Aristotelian physics and cosmology are outdated, but the metaphysical problem they implied continues to arise, since it has still not been resolved. It is not that there has been a lack of attempts to resolve it. For example, instead of Aristotle’s Prime Mover God, a God has been proposed who would be the abstract principle of the universe, a transcendent principle of Creation. But the gain is minimal. The process of the concrete creation of the universe would not be limited to an initial impulse; it could be considered potentially infinite. Another idea: the current state of the universe, as well as all the things it contains, are in an essential and permanent relationship with unfathomable fields of future possibilities, which are themselves infinite. In other interpretations, eternal or pre-eternal ideas generate « models » capable of giving some reality to all kinds of beings, all kinds of existing things, and all varieties of continual differentiations. Each particular thing, each singular event, each specific circumstance, then represents a current opportunity to (temporarily) limit the infinite field of possibilitiesⁱⁱ. It is by virtue of these series of limitations that the particular value of the unity of the world emerges at every moment, as it represents a provisional totality, before opening up again, the next moment, to other fields of possibility. All circumstantial coincidences, all specific cases, must be considered as bearers of new virtualities, charged with the potential for other opportunities, themselves unique, singular, and potentially real insofar as they are realised. Reality is thus constantly being formed within the total unity of all real occasions and all the virtual potentialities to which they give rise. In this context, every opportunity represents a unique configuration of possibilities effectively brought together in concrete reality, thereby opening up prospects for new local paths within the global state of the world. To give an example, let us consider a singular occasionⁱⁱⁱ, which I will designate here by the ancient Greek letter Ϡ, pronounced « sampi ». I have chosen this letter to fix the ideas, and because it evokes a kind of bent (and thinking) reed, from which two kinds of sprouts, grafts, diverticula or rootlets seem to emerge. Once the occasion Ϡ « exists », we must also take into account other current occasions associated with the configuration of possibilities that allowed Ϡ to exist. All these other occasions, through their possible relationships with Ϡ, participate in the very essence of Ϡ. What Ϡ is in itself is a unit of experience that has actually been realised; therefore, it is legitimate to ask how other occasions participate in the experience that Ϡ represents. A partial answer to this question is that the relations between all actual occasions are at least as unfathomable and innumerable in their variety as those that connect the eternal ideas and patterns mentioned above, which are confined to the realm of abstraction. There are undoubtedly fundamental types of relations that would make it possible to describe the whole variety of relations between ideas, patterns and occasions. To understand the types of participation of a certain current occasion in the essence of other potential occasions, it would theoretically be necessary to be able to classify all spatio-temporal relationships, their modalities and their categorical determinations. This is a difficult, even infinite task, given how different all kinds of past, present and future events are. For example, the hypothesis of a perfect equivalence of the very notion of « event » before the Big Bang, during it, or even some time after it, has no metaphysical justification. The very structure of space-time, as well as that of causality, could change completely, without any metaphysical reason, but solely by contingency or chance. A real occasion Ϡ always presents itself as a unique process; it has an infinitely ramified past and presents itself as an infinitely potential becoming. By revealing itself in its singularity, Ϡ takes its place among a multiplicity of other occasions, without which it could not be what it is. It defines itself as an individual and particular realisation, concentrating in its own limited way the unlimited domain that consists of eternal ideas, concrete objects and an infinity of other occasions, which, through their independent determinations, have allowed Ϡ to come into reality. Every occasion Ϡ comes from other occasions that collectively form its past. It presents itself, and to itself, as being constituted, in large part, by all the occasions that collectively constellate its present. It is in relation to this immense past that it presents itself to itself and to the world, in an immediate present, and that it finds the taste of its own originality. This presentation of Ϡ to itself, this bringing of Ϡ into its own effective reality, constitutes its unique contribution to the production of all current reality. It may be partly conditioned, or even completely determined, by the past from which it originates. But its presentation, in the present tense and under such and such conditions, is what immediately emerges from its direct engagement with reality. The occasion Ϡ is therefore partly constituted by this actuality, but it also contains within itself an indeterminacy, always in potential, in the form of future developments, possible, eventual or improbable, but which cannot be excluded a priori. This potential future is partially determined because it germinates within Ϡ and is also in a spatio-temporal relationship with all other occasions that have already been actualised and belong to the past and present of Ϡ. From another point of view, this possible future, this conceivable future, represents a putative synthesis, in Ϡ, of eternal ideas that find, at a given moment, the opportunity to migrate out of the other countless occasions realised in the past, to now enter into this occasion, Ϡ. They also hope, perhaps, to move on from this one to other occasions and other individualisations to come. By observing, if it were possible, all these intricacies and multiplicities, most of which are totally improbable and perfectly unpredictable, one could theoretically meditate on how « being » can emerge from « non-being », the real from the virtual. Thus, in every occasion Ϡ, there is a partial, provisional, unexpected, unanticipated but very real realisation of eternal ideas and abstract models, mixed with myriad concrete circumstances. This a priori unpredictable realisation represents a kind of raw, even abrupt synthesis of eternal ideas, temporary objects, natural sequences and exceptional circumstances. However raw and abrupt it may be, this sudden synthesis itself presents multiple gradations that limit it in its relationship to reality. These limitations find their source in the metaphysical limitation that is consubstantial with every occasion. Each occasion captures in the synthesis it embodies, at a given moment, something of the way in which all actuality includes the virtual elements necessary for its realisation. This capture can also include all kinds of contingencies and errors, but also inventions, discoveries and new angles of truth, fuelling future and necessary re-foundations of sciences, philosophies and religions. Through this grasp, every reality is confronted in each occasion with the potential power of all its alternatives. The occasion is defined as a process heralding a new unity of experience, a new synthesis, which superimposes a real and unique substance (such as a ‘body’, a ‘mind’, or a ‘soul’) and the potential sum of other syntheses to come, based on new experiences. The unity of all current occasions makes it impossible to consider the absolute independence of all substances as probable. They are all intertwined, they are all mixed up with all past and present occasions, and, at least virtually, with all future occasions. Each individual activity of a given substance is nothing more than a certain mode of individualisation and integration of all the conditions imposed, permanently, on all occasions. The general activity of substances forms a kind of « unified totality » which is not itself a substance. Activity is not an entity in the sense that fleeting occasions or eternal ideas are entities. On the other hand, it possesses a certain metaphysical character, under which all occasions are subsumed, each according to a singular mode specific to each occasion. There is nothing to which this « general activity » can be compared. It could perhaps be likened to a kind of conatus, taken in a broader sense, much more general than the one Spinoza gives to this word, and which would be understood as a permanent, eternal, multi-directional effort, an effort not only to persevere in one’s being, but above all to persevere in the search for one’s becoming, a becoming that must reveal itself as other than the current being. Thus, this eternal possibility of a becoming attached to every occasion Ϡ , and its differentiation into new singular multiplicities, are two of the attributes that constitute the substance of the « unified totality » at every moment. The whole is indeed « unified » but it is also always « unfinished »; it is always in the process of becoming, and all the circumstances and occasions that constitute its substance are currently limited in their own time and space, even if their potentialities remain open to countless fields of probability. These limitations take three forms. On the one hand, there are the logical and structural relationships to which all events and occasions must conform. On the other hand, we must take into account the selection of relationships to which events specifically conform. Finally, there are the limitations due to the particularities and singularities that affect the very expression of these relationships of logic and causality. Not all of these kinds of limitations are negative; they produce value. It is these limitations that make it possible to move from power to action, from the virtual to the potential. Moreover, the value associated with reality depends on a number of prior norms, which govern in advance the acceptance or rejection of such circumstances and modalities. The principle of limitation is necessary as a means of particularisation, specification and individuation of circumstances, so that the occasion Ϡ « transcends » all past potentialities and virtualities and takes on a new and very real form. As for the very essence of limitation, no reason or explanation can be given, because reason itself is made up of limitations, and these limitations stem from all of previous history. Reason has in fact been forged gradually as a result of countless limitations encountered and overcome throughout the ages. And no essential reason can be given for the existence of limitations linked to circumstances, or for their profound nature. Similarly, no reason can be given for the nature of Divinity itself, or for its absence or silence, or even for the general order of the world. One can only say that the nature of Divinity, whatever it may be, could be the distant foundation of all that exists, and in particular of some hypothetical rationality that is supposed to justify existence, even the most singular forms of it. Divinity is never concrete in itself, even if we can hypothesise that it represents an essential factor in the concretisation of reality, and even more so in the foundation of the movement of the world. What is metaphysically indeterminate by nature must nevertheless be conceptually determinable and, in principle, categorically distinguishable. By observing the nature of things and the evolution of the universe, it is always possible, again in principle, to conceive of all the limits of rationality. For there is a limitation inherent in all categories of being, and in particular a limitation specific to beings of ‘nature’, which does not derive from any a priori metaphysical reason, but which seems to be immanent in them. There is undoubtedly a metaphysical need to posit the existence of a very general principle of determination of being and beings, but there can be no metaphysical reason for determining concretely to what and how this principle applies, in what circumstances and for what purposes. In short, it is impossible to determine (metaphysically) how what could be determined should be determined, and how what should not be determined can escape it. If such a (metaphysical) reason existed, no other principle would be necessary because, with metaphysics having absolute primacy, everything would be intrinsically determined, forever and ever, and the universe would be nothing more than a kind of mechanism, highly sophisticated, extremely precise, extremely diverse, but deprived of all (metaphysical) freedom. Moreover, even the general principle of empiricism is based on the doctrine that there is a principle of reality, a principle of autonomy of concrete things, which cannot be discovered by abstract reason, but can only be observed through experience. What can be known in the world of concrete things must be sought through specific experiments and is therefore based only on empirical foundations, not on rational, abstract ones. Of course, after the fact, it is always possible to attempt rational syntheses based on the empirical results of experiments and observations of ‘reality’, at least of that reality which can be seen and observed. But who can say anything about what ‘reality’ hides within itself and does not always choose to reveal? Moreover, when it comes to interpreting the results of experiments, humanity has always been deeply divided throughout history. For example, the interpretation of the very existence of the world, which is part of the primary experience of every existing being, has depended heavily on different eras, cultures and languages. Thus, the Divinity, which according to certain interpretations is the very principle of the existence of this world, has been given different names at different times, in different contexts and according to various theological and philosophical views: First Cause, Supreme Being, Brahman, Brahmā, Prajāpati, Chaos, Cosmos, Chance, Elohim, YHVH, Heavenly Father, Allah, etc. Each of these names corresponds to a system of thought derived from the experiences of those who used it. They therefore all have a particular meaning that can only be understood by taking into account all the circumstances that led to the establishment of the human environment that made them possible. These names, moreover, are of only relative importance. More important is to discern whether a particular name carries with it the responsibility for the origin of all Evil, and allows us to identify the nature of its relationship with Good^iv. If the Divinity is recognised as the supreme foundation of the world and all its limitations, then it would be in its nature to separate Good from Evil and establish Reason as the supreme judge. If, on the other hand, we do not want to recognise it as having any responsibility for the creation of Evil, then we must definitely push our thinking far beyond common sense and venture into another order of thought, where neither Good nor Evil can retain the usual meaning they have come to acquire on this Earth, after a few thousand years of rather fleeting civilisations, with no real prospects except the more or less desperate ones of trying to prolong themselves a little longer.

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iAristotle. Metaphysics. Book XII, ch. 7. « We must conceive of something that moves without being moved, something eternal, which is substance and which is act. Now, this is how it moves: it is like the desirable and the intelligible, which moves without being moved. On both sides, for the intelligible and the desirable, the primitives are the same. The desired object is what seems good to us; and the primitive of the will is the good itself. We desire it because it seems desirable to us, rather than it seems desirable to us because we desire it; for in this, it is intelligence that is the principle. Now, intelligence is moved only by the intelligible […] The foregoing suffices to demonstrate the existence of an eternal, immobile substance, separate from all other beings that our senses can perceive. «

iiRegarding the metaphysics of « limitation », see the article in this blog, Freedom, Kenosis and Tsimtsoum, and in particular this excerpt: « Contingency, chance and fortune contradict the supposed manifestations of divine omnipotence and omniscience. They mark the necessary limits of necessity; the necessary limits of divine power, knowledge and will. Contingency (contingentia) breaks the chain of necessity (necessitas) without reason. It limits the power of causes, denies the tyranny of determinism, and breaks the inflexible chain of causality. Chance (casus) thwarts fate (fatum), it ‘contradicts’ everything that has been ‘predicted’ or ‘declared’. In doing so, it invalidates all prescience. Fortune (fortuna) thwarts universal harmony (harmonia). It thwarts the order of the world and the will that animates it. Contingency, chance and fortune represent as many limits to the « omnipotence » of necessity and fate, and as many possible openings to « freedom ». See also, for further discussion: Philippe Quéau. La Fin du monde commun. 2016

iiiI borrow this term to A.N. Whitehead. Science and the Modern World. The Lowell Lectures. Chapter XI, « God ». 1925, p. 217

ivRare are the formulas that attribute the very origin of evil to God, as the prophet Isaiah does not hesitate to do: עֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם וּבוֹרֵא רָע , « I make peace and I create evil » (Is 45:7).

The Soul’s Wave Packet

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« …. —>|________>|—…. » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2025

……………………… |——– >|__________________________>|——………….. ?

The diagram above is a simplified representation of the “line of existence” of all beings who emerge from nothingness to enter life, then pass from life to death, before returning to nothingness. The diagram uses dotted lines ….., dashes —-, two arrow brackets >, three vertical bars | , a continuous line segment ______, and ends with a question mark. This is an attempt to symbolize the timeline of all individual existence. Starting from the left and moving to the right, we first see a dotted line representing the passage of time, from the distant past to a certain special, unique moment: the conception of a living being. For practical reasons, this line has not been represented in its entirety. In theory, it should begin at the very origin of time, say at the date of the Big Bang. We have limited ourselves to showing its final part, just before the appearance of a first vertical bar and a dotted line, which represent the period of time between the conception of the human being and its birth. The first arrowed parenthesis represents the process of childbirth, while the second vertical bar symbolizes birth. The solid line represents the duration of life in this world. The second arrowed parenthesis denotes the period preceding the moment of death, itself symbolized by a third vertical bar. The second series of dashes represents an intermediate period during which, according to certain traditions, the soul of the being in question continues to be present in this world. Finally, the last dotted line symbolizes a new period, that of the decomposition of the body, followed by the descent into “nothingness” that will ensue, until a hypothetical end of time, represented by a question mark.

Why this diagram? Because it allows us to spin the few spatio-temporal and physico-metaphysical metaphors that follow.

The “slice of life” between birth and death can be likened to a space-time segment belonging to the space-time associated with the entire universe. This segment of “life” has indeed existed in space-time, and will continue to exist as such for as long as space-time itself exists. In other words, even long after the death of a living being, the entirety of its “life” will continue to be stored in the lines of space-time corresponding to its passage on earth, symbolized here by the continuous line segment. Just as the “cosmic microwave background” continues to bear witness to the appearance of a primordial illumination emitted after the Big Bang, so too will everything that existed in a part of the universe during a specific period of time continue to be inscribed in the very substance of space-time, at least as long as the latter still exists. The latter represents a kind of repository of everything that was, everything that is, and everything that will be. A pure observer, that is, one outside this universe and therefore independent of its space-time, would be able to visit every corner of it in spirit, and perhaps virtually “relive” all the events recorded in the space-time segment associated with a particular “slice of life.” Let us suppose, for a moment, for the sake of this conjecture, that there exist outside this universe dematerialized intelligences, freed from all ties to any space-time corporeality, which would in theory be capable of freely flying over and exploring the entirety of the space-time corresponding to this universe, from its origin to its final collapse. All the “slices of life” of all living beings would thus be preserved in their entirety in this space-time, as if in metaphysical Plexiglas blocks, displayed in the windows of the total museum of the universe.

For a long time, the idea of a dualism of soul and body has been defended by philosophers such as Plato and Descartes. Furthermore, and completely independently, quantum physics has familiarized us for about a century with another fundamental dualism, that of the wave and the particle. For the sake of speculation, I propose to compare these two forms of dualism (soul/body and wave/particle). The soul would then be to the body what the wave is to the particle. If we take the metaphor further, certain results of quantum physics could allow us to formulate new hypotheses about the relationship between the soul and the body. Indeed, we could postulate the existence of “fields of consciousness,” just as gravitational fields and quantum fields exist throughout the universe. These fields of consciousness, like quantum fields, could be associated with wave functions. The birth of a new soul in a particular body could then be compared to the “collapse” or “reduction,” in the quantum sense, of a “wave packet of consciousness” that had previously remained in a state of indeterminacy. This collapse or reduction would follow the interaction of a certain wave packet with some “mother matter” consisting of the first cells of the fetus, shortly after conception. The individuality and personality of a singular soul would initially be “informed” by the entanglement of this wave packet with the fetal cells at the moment of “reduction,” and then constantly influenced by other forms of entanglement throughout life. Life would follow its development, gradually conquering different levels of consciousness, according to the experiences lived. Throughout life, the “body-soul” complex would be continuously entangled with fields of consciousness of different natures. It would be analogous to what is called in physics a “black body,” i.e., “an ideal object that perfectly absorbs all the electromagnetic energy (all light regardless of its wavelength) it receives (hence its name ‘black’) and restores it entirely in the form of a particular thermal radiation, known as black body radiation.” This analogy would allow us to imagine the “body-soul” complex of a living being as also absorbing the energy of the various fields of consciousness in which it is immersed, releasing it in the form of “radiations of consciousness,” of which the soul would be particularly aware when they “illuminate” it. When death occurs, at the moment represented in our diagram by the third vertical bar, a process of disentanglement of the soul and the body takes place, until the soul and the body are completely separated. When this process ends, symbolized by the second series of dashes, the soul takes the form of a new “wave packet of consciousness,” enriched by all the experiences it has had, conscious or unconscious, and more particularly by all the ‘awareness’ that has taken place during its life. This “awareness” is distributed throughout life. In fact, at every moment, consciousness is capable of “becoming aware” that it is itself a consciousness capable of becoming aware of itself. I will use one last metaphor here, which will undoubtedly speak to those who have some knowledge of elementary mathematics, that of Taylor series ⁱ. At any point on a curve associated with an infinitely differentiable function, all the information needed to fully define this function at all its other points is available. This information consists of the set of all derivatives of the function at the point in question. If we apply this mathematical metaphor to the wave function of the soul, it means that at every moment of the soul’s life, it carries with it its entire past and future life—but only if it is “indefinitely differentiable.” However, the life curve of a soul cannot be presumed to be “indefinitely differentiable.” This curve has singular points, represented in our diagram by vertical bars. Conclusion: the metaphor of Taylor series applied to the soul has only limited scope, but it opens up an interesting avenue: the soul can be likened to an infinite wave function, whose associated quantum field not only fills this universe in its own way, but also transcends it.

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i In mathematics, and more specifically in analysis, the Taylor series at point a of a function f (real or complex) that is infinitely differentiable at that point, also called the Taylor series expansion of f at a, is an entire series approximating the function around a, constructed from f and its successive derivatives at a. (Wikipedia)

Death Instinct v. Survival Instinct

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Survival Instinct » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2025

A Podcast Summary in English of Philippe Quéau’s Blogpost: « Instinct de Mort et Instinct de Sur-Vie »

The Unconscious God

Publié par Philippe Quéau

For the consciousness that reflects on the presence of Evil in the world, it is impossible to believe that God can identify with the ‘Sovereign Good’, the Summum Bonum, with which Christian philosophy associates Him, as a matter of course. According to Isaiah, YHVH says of Himself that He is « creator of evil^ⁱ » and that He « makes all this [evil] ». However, on this thorny question of Evil (is it « created » by God or not?), almost all Christian theologians tend to devalue the authority of Isaiah out of hand, or of the prophet who is supposed to be the author of chapter 45 of the Book of Isaiah. But in his seminal book, Answer to Job, C.G. Jung offered some stimulating views on this subject, based on the idea of conjunction or union of opposites. « Clement of Rome professed that God ruled the world with a right hand and a left hand. The right hand meant Christ, the left Satan. Clement’s conception was clearly monotheistic, since he united opposing principles in one God. Later, however, Christianity became dualistic to the extent that the part of the opposing elements, personified by Satan, is dissociated, and Satan is banished in a state of eternal curse. This is the central problem. It is of essential significance, and lies at the root of the Christian doctrine of salvation. If Christianity claims to be a monotheistic religion, it cannot do without the assumption that opposites are unified in one Godⁱⁱ. » The resources of depth psychology can indeed be mobilized to explore (heuristically) the question of Evil in the divine project. But first we need to reread the Jewish and Christian Scriptures that deal with it, such as the Book of Job, the Book of Enoch (and the other books of Jewish Apocalypticism), certain Prophets, and the Gospels. Logically, a God who is both the ‘creator of the world’, ‘omniscient’ and ‘omnipotent’, naturally has an undeniable responsibility for the presence of Evil in this world he is supposed to have created with full knowledge of the facts. His supposed omniscience should have informed him in advance of the particularly harmful role of Evil in the economy of his own creation (at least, from a human point of view). Moreover, God’s (supposed) omnipotence could (should?) have enabled him to eradicate a priori any future presence of Evil in the world, even before creation. Had he really wanted to, God could have created a world devoid of all Evil, couldn’t he? But he didn’t. Why didn’t he? Moreover, why does He reveal to Isaiah that He « creates evil », not once and for all, in the beginning, but ever continuously, as acknowledged by the use of a verb in the imperfect mode of Hebrew grammar (« vore’ « ) ? How could a « good » God voluntarily create evil, allowing it to enter His creation and develop at will? How could an omniscient God, capable of foreseeing the perverse role of Evil, allow it to arise and subsist? We have to choose. God cannot logically be « good », « omniscient », « omnipotent » and « creator of evil » all at the same time. Taken together, these attributes are intrinsically contradictory. Solutions to the dilemma have been proposed over the millennia, such as dualism and Manichaeism, which differentiate between « good » and « evil » Gods. But this is too easy a solution, and incompatible with the monotheistic paradigm of the « One » God. The only remaining possibility is to envisage the idea of a « One » God who unites opposites in Himself, including good and evil. Since He cannot consciously unite them in Himself (if He is « good »), this means that He unites them in His own Unconscious.

Further questions arise. How can such a God demand that believers both « fear » Him (as a God who chastises, and can let Evil loose on the world) and « love » Him (as a God who saves, and brings souls to life)? The fear that the biblical God is supposed to inspire in the believer is a further element of incomprehension for a critical consciousness. Why should we fear at all a supremely good God, the God of Summum Bonum?

The theory of the saving Messiah, who sacrifices Himself to save sinful mankind, is also difficult to understand. How can a supremely good God let His own ‘Son’ be sacrificed to save mankind from the Evil that the same God has knowingly allowed to flourish in the world? How can a ‘good’ and ‘just’ God let men put His Son to death, precisely in order to save mankind from His own wrath, and from the punishment He intends to inflict on mankind? A ‘good’, ‘just’ and ‘omnipotent’ God could have eradicated Evil by His almighty power, or He could have unilaterally erased mankind’s faults. We can’t evacuate these questions with arguments of authority. A critical consciousness cannot be satisfied with theological decisions. But we can also assume that this question is neither theological nor philosophical. Rather, it is anthropological and psychological. Moreover, it’s important to stress that the paradigm of divine sacrifice for the benefit of Creation is an anthropological constant, spanning millennia and cultures. We also find this idea with Prajāpati in India, Inanna in Sumer, Osiris in Egypt, Dionysus in Greece, Jesus in Israel … a long litany of various Deities sacrificed for the benefit of mankind.

The most important thing is to realize that, in the case of the biblical God, capable of blatant injustice, anger, jealousy and even unfaithfulness to the promises He Himself made, the injunction to love and praise Him as a « good » God is a contradictory injunction. How can we love a « good » God who constantly creates evil, on His own admission? How can a truly critical consciousness understand a God who is essentially, ethically and logically contradictory?

To all these questions, Jung proposes this rather paradoxical answer: God is actually « partly unconscious ». He is unconscious of who He really is (and how He affects His creature). Only an unmistakable lack of « reflection » in « God’s consciousness » can (logically) explain His inexplicable behavior (from the particuliar point of view of human consciousness). The consequence of this unconsciousness is that God can only suffer a « moral defeat » when confronted with the critical consciousness of his creatures, revolted by the injustice of their lot. The paradigmatic example of this revolt is Job. Through this « moral defeat », man finds himself subjectively and unexpectedly elevated to a new level of awareness of God. Simply by being aware of being confronted with an unconsciously immoral God, Job, or for that matter any other critical consciousness, can in fairness take Him to task, and push Him to His limits. God’s such « moral defeat » provokes a profound upheaval in humanity’s (collective) unconscious. Man acquires greater ‘moral value’ in his own eyes. This new ‘moral’ status invades man’s unconscious, filling the ‘void’ left by the ‘unconsciousness’ (or the ‘absence’ ) of God. Unconsciously, man feels morally « grown up » in relation to the conscious, devalued self-image he continues to have. In these circumstances, other latent potentialities of the unconscious are just waiting to burst into consciousness, in the form of dreams, visions, revelations and prophecies. In the first half of the 6^th century B.C., the prophet Ezekiel had visions that were symptoms of the fractures between human consciousness and the collective unconscious, in very troubled times. At the same time, Siddhārtha Gautama (b. 562 B.C.), also known as the « Great Spirit », the « Awakened One » or the « Buddha », introduced the world to new possibilities for human consciousness, judged capable of going beyond brahman itself, and reaching parabrahman (the supreme, absolute brahman)… The brahman, which is the origin of All, is also referred to as the ātman (the Self), and as sva (the Sanskrit word that gave rise to the word « self » in English and « soi » in French). Another of his names, in the Vedic tradition, is Prajāpati, the Lord of Creation. In Hinduism, brahman is the cosmic consciousness present in all things, the immanent Self in all being, the Absolute, both transcendent and immanent, the ultimate principle that is, without beginning or end. But it’s important to stress that, above brahman, consciousness can find an even more absolute parabrahman. The race of consciousness towards new heights seems endless. Ezekiel didn’t go that far, however. But he did grasp, in his own visions, that in a sense YHVH had come closer to man. Yet neither Ezekiel nor Job seem to have consciously realized the disturbing fact that their own consciousness (and potentially all human consciousnesses) could turn out to be ‘higher’, in a way, more critical, than YHVH’s own.

It is particularly significant that Ezekiel was the first prophet to quote the expression ‘Son of Man’- Ben-Adam, which YHVH uses on numerous occasions to designate Ezekiel. In the Jewish canon, Ezekiel is the only prophet to be named Ben-Adam by YHVH, with the exception of Daniel who is also called in this way – but by the angel Gabriel. Later, Jesus of Nazareth used the expression « Son of Man » several times, but he innovated by using it to designate himself and to make it a messianic title. For the first time, Jesus formally established the identity of the « Son of Man » and the « only-begotten Son » (of God). One of his disciples, Stephen, exclaimed when he was stoned to death, in the presence of Saul (the future Paul), an accomplice of his torturers: « Ah! » he said, « I see the heavens open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God ». It is important to note that the image of the « Son of Man », seated or standing « at the right hand of God », which is also found in the Book of Revelation, was not a Christian innovation. It had already been used for several centuries in Jewish apocalyptic texts, most notably in the three books of Enoch. Today, we can interpret this name, Ben-Adam, as a kind of testimony to God’s awareness of his own unconsciousness.

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iIs 45:7וּבוֹרֵא רָע ; אֲנִי יְהוָה, עֹשֶׂה כָל-אֵלֶּה (vou-vore’ ra‘ ani YHVH ‘osseh koul-’élêh) « And I, YHVH, am the creator of evil, I make it all » (Is 45:7)

iiC.G. Jung. Answer to Job. Buchet/Chastel, 2009. See also C.G. Jung. Mysterium Conjuctionis. Albin Michel, 1982.

The Star, the Stone, the Oil and the Self

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Self 2 » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2024

Nicholas of Flüe, a Swiss mystic of the XV^th century, « the only saint by the grace of God known to Switzerland²⁷⁰ » had prenatal visions—a famous case of fetal consciousness. Marie-Louise von Franz, spiritual heiress of C.G. Jung, has dedicated a book to him, which begins with this precise, heartfelt account: « Henry am Grund, friend and confidant of Nicholas of Flüe, told how Brother Claus [the name by which Nicholas of Flüe was known in Switzerland] had a vision in his mother’s womb, even before he was born. ‘He had seen a star shining in the sky that lit up the whole world; […] so he explained that this meant that anyone could say of him that he shone so brightly in the world. Furthermore, Brother Claus had told him that, before he was born, he had seen in his mother’s womb a large stone that represented the firmness and constancy of his being, in which he had to persist in order not to abandon his enterprise (or his nobility). That he had, on the same occasion and still in his mother’s womb, seen the holy chrism; then, after being born and seeing the light of day, he had recognized his mother and the midwife; he had also seen how he was being carried through the Ranft valley towards Kerns to be baptized, all with such vividness that he had never forgotten it, and had retained an image as clear as when the vision had occurred. In the same circumstances, he had also seen an old man standing beside the font, but he didn’t know him, whereas he recognized the priest who was baptizing him’²⁷¹. »

From the outset, the contemporary reader is faced with a dilemma. Is this text to be taken seriously, or is it rather a jumble of fallacies and pointless fantasies? How could a fetus have « visions » and then remain conscious of them for the rest of its life? “This account by Brother Claus is disconcerting in the extreme, and presents us with a most difficult problem: either we are dealing with a unique, unheard-of miracle in which a fetus or a new-born baby had perceptions of which it subsequently retained a conscious memory, or we must conclude that the account is fallacious²⁷².” Unheard-of miracle or laughable allegation? Whatever the case, these « visions » are of intrinsic interest, as a testimony to the variety of psychic powers and their relationship with the real world, and with history. In this case, the link between these visions and the reality and history of Switzerland cannot be denied. They visited the mind of the only Swiss ever to be canonized²⁷³ by the Catholic Church. Nicholas of Flüe died in 1487 « in the odor of sanctity ». He had won the veneration of his compatriots after saving Switzerland from a fratricidal war. But what’s most interesting about Nicholas of Flüe’s « visions » are the « symbols » and « archetypes » that appear in them: the star, the stone, the oil (chrism) and the old man. Marie-Louise von Franz comments: « First we have the star, which is the image of the Self and of the ‘inner light’ projected into the farthest regions of the universe. Next comes the stone, representing the star descended to earth, now tangible, palpable, so to speak; and finally, we are in the presence of the oil, which is in a way ‘the hidden soul of the stone’, or, in the language of the Church, the substance in which the Holy Spirit manifests Itself. In faith of this, we can see that oil is the symbol of the meaning that orients man towards the numinous presence of divinity, a meaning that stands out against the backdrop of synchronicity phenomena²⁷⁴. » Von Franz’s interpretation is in line with that of C.G. Jung, master of the depth psychology, and promoter of the concept of synchronicity along with physicist Wolfgang Pauli²⁷⁵. I’d like to go a step further, and present an interpretation of the symbols of Nicholas of Flüe’s vision from the perspective of a comparative anthropology of consciousness. The star symbol is one of the oldest in existence. The cuneiform sign that represents the idea of « God » has the shape of an eight-pointed star 𒀭, reading AN or DINGIR in Sumerian. The center of this cuneiform can be seen as the point of intersection, or convergence, of four distinct, centripetal strokes. It could also be seen as the source of centrifugal radiation, flowing in the eight cardinal directions. I interpret it as an image of consciousness, or an ‘image of the Self’. The graphic dualism of the cuneiform star can also be seen as a metaphor for wave/corpuscle dualism. The central point of the star 𒀭 symbolizes the « corpuscle », and the eight rays from it symbolize « waves ». From a psychological point of view, the center of the star 𒀭 symbolizes the « self ». Radiation represents the relationship of the self with the outside world, with the « other ». In the Self, the « I » and the « other » are psychically intertwined, just as are intertwined waves and quantum particles. The star is not just energy. It is also a « stone », supposedly inert, that has fallen to earth, in Von Franz’s interpretation of Brother Claus’s vision. The image of a falling stone is reminiscent of a meteorite striking the earth. Or, on a completely different note, it could symbolize the descent of a soul into a body, its incarnation. The symbol of the stone is also used in the Bible. There’s the foundation stone, aven, « well seated²⁷⁶« , and there’s its opposite, the stone « rejected by the builders », but become against all odds the « ridge stone²⁷⁷« . The dualisms of the cornerstone²⁷⁸ and the stumbling block²⁷⁹, of the « dark and shadowy » stone²⁸⁰ and the « living » stone²⁸¹ » deploy other metaphors. The stone is a sacred symbol of the self, immutably fused with the Self of the world. And because stone, in the final analysis, always comes from elsewhere, from the far reaches of the cosmos, it is also a symbol of the unknown.

As for the image of « the oil of the hard stone », we find it in the 5^th book of the Torah, Deuteronomy. In the « Song of Moses », YHVH makes his people taste « the honey of the rock and the oil of the hard stone²⁸²« . From this we can infer that this sweet, unctuous – and sanctified – oil is somehow the « hidden soul » of the stone. But, one might ask, is there really such an oil, such a ‘soul’, at the center of the hard stone? Is it not more reasonable to think that this oil only appears because it is expressed from an oleic substance by means of the millstone? The millstone grinds the olive or vine fruit to express its essence – oil or wine. In the Veda, the sacred book of a completely different culture than the Hebrew, the stone also grinds plants to extract the precious Soma, which is the essence of the Vedic sacrifice, and which is consumed by the priest during the rite rendered to the Vedic God, yet another unique and supreme Creator. How can we fail to see this as a permanent or even immanent paradigm? Under all skies, the millstone crushes and transforms into intoxicating liquid, sticky pour, or fine flour, what was once “one”—the ripe, rubescent grape, the black, naked flesh of the olive, the hard, golden grain of wheat. In Nicholas of Flüe’s dream, the star symbolizes the eternal Self, the stone signifies the incarnate self, and the oil represents the transmuted, transcended self. The stable, compact, resistant self must be liquefied. Through the ordeal of the millstone, its fine grinding, the multiple self becomes a single « oil ». It is thus even more unified than stone, seed or olive ever will be.

The fourth element revealed by Brother Claus’s dreams completes the symbolic quaternion with the « unknown old man », the archetype of the « wise old man », i.e. the Spirit. He corresponds to the « Ancient of Days » and the « Most Holy Old Man », nicknamed « White Head », in the Cabala²⁸³. Jung suggests that, in the case of Nicholas of Flüe, this figure represents « the personification of the ‘grain of salt’ that the newborn child receives in baptism, namely the Sapientia Dei, the Wisdom of God, within which God Himself is present²⁸⁴. » This “Most Holy Old Man”, or « Divine Wisdom », played a role throughout Brother Claus’s life, in the form of frequent apparitions.

The star, the stone, the oil and the « unknown old man » first appeared in Brother Claus’s brain as soon as his consciousness awakened. With Jung and Von Franz, we can consider that these symbols prefigured Brother Claus’ exceptional destiny. It’s also conceivable that, in the eyes of a rationalist or a positivist, the story of Nicholas of Flüe, with its prenatal visions and mystical intuitions, would seem perfectly inadmissible. Yet Nicholas of Flüe was indeed a « prophet in his own country », both religiously and politically. His wise counsel saved Switzerland in 1481, when a fratricidal war was brewing. Can we assume that his visions contributed to peace? Every vision is in some way « true » when it bears witness to a profound, immanent order. We can’t rule out the idea that Nicholas of Flüe’s visions contained a subtle, invisible but effective part of this hidden order.

The star-stone-oil triad represents an immanent process of transformation and transmutation of consciousness. It symbolizes the metamorphosis of light (consciousness), in three stages : its (cosmic) origin, its materialization (its ‘incarnation’) and its overcoming (its ‘sublimation’). The grinding of consciousness (or its ‘sacrifice’) opens the way to transcendence, just as holy oil, consecrated chrism (from Greek χρῖσμα / khrĩsma, ointment, perfume) becomes what the Hebrews anointed their « anointed ones » (their prophets and kings) with. Symbolizing the inner light of the Self, the star is the symbol of a light with a universal vocation, a light which from the beginning illuminates the entire cosmos, and which until the end will illuminate the consciousness of beings endowed with a singular soul. The stone, a piece of fallen star, symbolizes the Self incarnated in the ego, in living flesh. The oil represents the very consciousness of the Self. One, but fluid, it became chrism for the anointing of priests, prophets and kings, and is the symbol of grace.

Human and Non-Human Consciousnesses

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Chimère » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2024

The Psalmist sang of YHVH’s eternal, irrevocable covenant with David, his servant, his saint, his anointed. But why is he so bitter? He blames YHVH for his sudden breach of that covenant, his unilateral fickleness, his unpredictable anger. « And yet you have forsaken him, rejected him, your chosen one; you have raged against him. You have broken the covenant of your servant, you have degraded him, and thrown down his diadem²⁵⁹. » Wouldn’t the Psalmist be mistaken in his judgment? How could a God so One, so high, so powerful, be unfaithful to his own word? How could an eternal God be understood, let alone judged, by a fleeting creature, however inspired? Besides, if the Psalmist’s bitterness were to be justified, God forbid, wouldn’t it be better not to insist on this broken covenant, this broken promise? No power, whatever it may be, likes to be called into question, and even less to be challenged on its own ground, in this case that of the word and the promise. YHVH, it’s a fact, doesn’t like man’s critical thinking, this nothingness, to be exercised towards Him. Criticism tends to diminish the quality of the homage and praise He expects from His creatures. His power pervades the universe. His essence is eternal, of course. His existence is real, to be sure. However, this ‘power’ and this ‘existence’ only have real meaning if other, non-divine consciousnesses are aware of them, and praise Him for them. Without them, divine ‘power’ would remain self-centered, solipsistic, centripetal, in a way ‘selfish’, or at least ‘egotistical’. And, by the same token, would it not reveal a ‘lack’ within the divine? To make up for this ‘lack’, there is a kind of intrinsic necessity for other consciousnesses to come and fill it, and for some of them to be able to freely recognize the ‘power’ at work, as a condition of existence, of life, of all forms of consciousness. This is why we can infer that the Creator, in His omnipotence, which is supposed to be absolute, felt the desire to create consciousnesses other than His own; He needed singular consciousnesses to « be », other than in Himself. This was the reason for the original, implicit, natural, structural alliance of God with His Creation, the dialectical alliance of uncreated Consciousness with created consciousness.

In the beginning, it was important for His wisdom to be aware of the existence and essence of all the kinds of consciousness that could be created, in the entire Cosmos, until the end of times that may have no end. Now, it’s important for Him, at every moment, to be aware of the meaning that consciousnesses give to themselves. It also matters to Him what meaning they give (or don’t give) to His existence. He obviously wouldn’t have sent prophets down here if He didn’t care. What matters to Him above all is the general movement of consciousness in the world. By means of a thought experiment, a dream of created consciousness, we could imagine that the Creator creates new consciousnesses, which are, in essence, always ‘in the making’, and which must, while alive, be fulfilled. Placed in the world, they bring to life, grow (or shrink) their potential for consciousness, their wills, their desires, their hopes. We could also imagine that the life of these created consciousnesses, the fulfillment of these ephemeral wills, is not unrelated to the fulfillment of uncreated Consciousness, the realization of the eternal will, the Life of the Self. Finally, we could hypothesize that the Creator has, in consciousness, desired the existence of created consciousnesses, and that His desire grows as consciousness grows in the created world. In His unconscious awareness, or in His conscious unconsciousness, the Creator seems almost oblivious to who He really is, why He creates, and how His creative power can be apprehended, understood and praised by His creatures, in principle reasonable, but surprised to be there. On the one hand, if the Scriptures are to be believed, God YHVH seems to have needed to ally Himself exclusively with a people, binding them to Himself with irrevocable promises and eternal oaths. But on the other hand, again according to the Scriptures, God YHVH did not hesitate to break these promises and oaths, for reasons that are not always clear or expressly alleged. He unilaterally broke the covenant with his chosen one, his anointed, even though it had been proclaimed eternal. Terrible consequences are to be expected from this rupture and abandonment: walls demolished, fortresses ruined, populations devastated and plundered, enemies filled with joy, the end of royal splendor, the throne thrown down, and general shame. Woe and suffering now seem destined to last with no foreseeable end, while man’s life is so brief²⁶⁰. What has become of the promise once made, which in principle was to bind the God YHVH for ever²⁶¹? The conclusion is abrupt, brief, but without acrimony. Finally, twice, the word amen is addressed to this incomprehensible and, it seems, forgetful God: « Praise the Lord forever! Amen and amen²⁶²! » The forsaken anointed one, a little disenchanted, doesn’t seem to hold it against the Lord for not having kept his promise. He doesn’t seem eager to insist on this unilateral abandonment, this abolished covenant. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that this gives him a kind of de facto moral advantage over a God who shows himself unaware of his « forgetfulness », whereas he, the chosen one, the anointed one, has forgotten nothing of the promise. Is it out of prudence? In all His glory and power, the God YHVH doesn’t really seem to appreciate criticism when it comes against Him, and even less when it comes from men who are notoriously so fallible, so sinful. Although his power extends across the universe, and no doubt far beyond, God YHVH needs to be ‘known’ and ‘recognized’ by reflective (and laudatory) consciousnesses. He shows his desire to do more than just « being ». He also wants to « exist » for consciousnesses other than His own. Without human, living, attentive consciousnesses that recognize His « existence », God’s « Being » would have no witness other than Himself. In the absence of these free consciousnesses, capable of recognizing His existence and praising His glory, this very existence and this very glory would in fact be literally « absent » from the created world.

The existence of the divine principle could certainly be conceived in absolute unity and solitude. After all, this is how we conceive of the primordial, original God, before Creation came into being. But does the idea of divine ‘glory’ even make sense, if there is no other consciousness to witness it? In essence, any real glory requires conscious glorification by a glorifying multitude, dazzled, conquered, sincere. Could God be infinitely ‘glorious’ in absolute solitude, in the total absence of any ‘presence’, in a desert empty of all ‘other’ consciousnesses capable of perceiving and admiring His glory? He could, no doubt—but not without that glory suffering a certain ‘lack’. Divine existence can only be fully ‘real’ if it is consciously perceived, and even praised, by consciousnesses that are themselves ‘real’. A divine existence infinitely ‘alone’, with no consciousness ‘other’ than itself, would be comparable to a kind of somnolence, a dream of essence, the dream of an essence ‘unconscious’ of itself. The Creator needs other consciousnesses if he is not to be absolutely alone in enjoying his own glory, if he is not to be absolutely alone in confronting his infinite unconsciousness, without foundation or limit.

Man possesses his own consciousness, woven of fragility, transience, evanescence and nothingness. His consciousness can reflect on itself and on this nothingness. Each consciousness is unique and unrepeatable. Once it has appeared on earth, even the most omnipotent God can’t undo the fact that this consciousness has been, that its coming has taken place. God, in his omnipotence, cannot erase the fact that this singularity, this unique being has in fact existed, even if he can eradicate its memory forever. Nor can God, despite his omnipotence, be both « conscious » as « God the Creator », and conscious as is “conscious” a « created creature ». He must adopt one of these points of view. He has to choose between His consciousness (as being ‘divine’) and the specific consciousness of the creature. Nor can He simultaneously have full and total awareness of these two kinds of consciousness, since they are mutually exclusive, by definition. The potter’s point of view cannot be the pot’s point of view, and vice versa.

But can’t God decide to « incarnate » Himself in a human consciousness, and present Himself to the world as a word, a vision or a dream, as the Scriptures testify? But if He « incarnates » in a man (or a woman), doesn’t He lose to some extent the fullness of His divine consciousness, doesn’t He dissolve His Self somewhat, doesn’t He become partly unconscious of His own divinity, by assuming to incarnate in a human consciousness? In essence, all consciousness is one; it unifies and is unified. All consciousness is a factor of oneness, in itself, for itself. God Himself cannot be simultaneously ‘conscious’ as a conscious man is, and ‘conscious’ as a conscious God is, a One God. A One God cannot at the same time be a double or split God.

We can take another step along this path of reflection. In the depths of the divine unconscious lies this sensational truth: knowledge of the unique, singular consciousness of every human being is not of the same essence as knowledge of the unique, singular consciousness of God. These two kinds of knowledge are mutually exclusive, and if the former escapes entirely from the latter, the latter also escapes, in part, from the former. Every consciousness remains a mystery to all other consciousnesses. The two kinds of consciousness, created consciousness and divine consciousness, cannot merge into a pure identity, but they can enter into dialogue.

Could it be, however, that the unique, singular, created consciousness of each creature is in some way part of God’s unconscious? This question is not unrelated to the hypothesis of a possible divine Incarnation. Before the beginning, the very idea of a Man-God (or of God incarnating Himself in His creation) did not exist. There was only one alternative: God, or ‘nothing’. After Creation took place, the situation changed. There is now God—and ‘something’ else. We must recognize the hiatus, and even the fundamental chiasmus of consciousness caught between these two essences, these two realities, the divine and the created. If Man is conscious in his own (unique, singular) way, how can the God (unique and singular) recognize this uniqueness, this singularity of human consciousness, if He can recognize no ‘other’ consciousness, no ‘other’ uniqueness, no ‘other’ singularity, than His own? If God, being ‘one’, cannot recognize an ‘other’ than Himself, He cannot recognize in Himself the absolute ‘other’. He is therefore not absolutely conscious of Himself, of His own consciousness, of His own uniqueness and singularity, if He is not also conscious of the presence of this ‘other’ within Himself. And, being unconscious of what is absolutely ‘other’ in Him, how could the God glorify in Man’s consciousness, from the point of view of His absolute uniqueness, which, as such, is unconscious of all otherness?

A similar question was formulated by Jung: « Could Yahweh have suspected that Man possesses a light that is infinitely small, but more concentrated than that which he, Yahweh, possesses? Perhaps jealousy of this kind could explain his behavior²⁶³. » Is Yahweh really a jealous God, in the literal sense? Is God ‘jealous’ of Man? The expression « jealous God »—El qanna’—is used several times in the Hebrew Bible. It’s the name by which YHVH calls Himself (twice) when He appears to Moses on Mount Sinai: « For YHVH, His name is ‘Jealous’, He is a jealous God²⁶⁴! » This name has consequences for man, in a way that can be considered humanly amoral: « For I, the Lord, your God, am a jealous God, who pursues the crime of fathers on children to the third and fourth generation, for those who offend me²⁶⁵. » And, no, this jealous God doesn’t forgive, he wants revenge. « The Lord is a jealous and avenging God; yes, the Lord takes vengeance, he is capable of wrath: the Lord takes vengeance on his adversaries and holds a grudge²⁶⁶. »

Jung also claims that Job was the first to understand the contradiction of God being omniscient, omnipotent and « jealous » all at the same time. « Job was elevated to a higher degree of knowledge of God, a knowledge that God Himself did not possess […] Job discovered God’s intimate antinomy, and in the light of this discovery, his knowledge attained a numinous and divine character. The very possibility of this development rests, we must assume, on man’s ‘likeness to God’²⁶⁷. » If God does not possess the knowledge that Job does, we can say that He is partly unconscious. Now, the unconscious, whether human or divine, has an ‘animal’ nature, a nature that wants to live and not die. Indeed, the divine vision reported by Ezekiel was composed of three-quarters animality (lion, bull, eagle) and only one-quarter humanity: « As for the shape of their faces, all four had the face of a man and on the right the face of a lion, all four had the face of a bull on the left and all four had the face of an eagle²⁶⁸. » From such « animality », so present and so prominent in Ezekiel’s vision of God, what can a man reasonably expect? Can (humanly) moral behavior be (reasonably) expected of a lion, an eagle or a bull? Jung’s conclusion may seem provocative, but it has the merit of being coherent and faithful to the texts: « YHVH is a phenomenon, not a human being²⁶⁹. »

Job confronted the eminently non-human, phenomenal nature of God in his own flesh, and was the first to be astonished by the violence of what he discovered, and what was revealed. Since then, man’s unconscious has been deeply nourished by this ancient discovery, right up to the present day. For millennia, man has unconsciously known that his own reason is fundamentally blind, powerless, in the face of a God who is a pure phenomenon, an animal phenomenon (in its original, etymological sense), and certainly a non-human phenomenon. Man must now live with this raw, irrational, unassimilable knowledge. Job was perhaps the first to elevate to the status of conscious knowledge a knowledge long lodged in the depths of the human unconscious, the knowledge of the essentially antinomic, dual nature of the Creator. He is at once loving and jealous, violent and gentle, creator and destroyer, aware of all his power, and yet, not ignorant, but at least unaware of the unique knowledge that every creature also carries within. What is this knowledge? In Man, this knowledge is that his consciousness, which is his unique and singular wealth, transcends his animality, and thus carries him, at least potentially, into the vertical vertigo of non-animality. This establishes the likelihood of ancient links between monotheistic spirituality and the various shamanic forms of spirituality, so imbued with the necessity of relations between humans and non-humans.

Possession and consciousness

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Possession » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2024

The Pythia or the Sibyl, the Bacchae or the Maenads give themselves over entirely to trance. When they are « possessed », they enter into communication with a divine entity. The God will come to « dwell » within them. Plato compares « this divine power that sets things in motion » to the « stone that was called ‘magnetic’ by Euripides », and sees its effect on artistic creation. « It is thus that the Muse, by herself, makes Divinity in certain men, and that, through the intermediary of these beings in whom a God resides, a line of other people is suspended from her, whom the Divinity then inhabits. » He affirms that « all epic poets, the good ones that is, » and lyrical authors compose their poems and songs, « not by an effect of art, but because a God is in them and possesses themⁱ. » It is precisely because they no longer have all their wits about them that they are able to createⁱⁱ. « The poet is indeed a light thing, a winged thing, a holy thing, and he is not yet able to create until he has become the man inhabited by a God, until he has lost his head, until his own spirit is no longer in himⁱⁱⁱ! » Indeed, it is the Divinity itself that speaks through the poet. « The Divinity, having taken away their spirit, employs these men at his service to vaticinate and to be diviners inspired by God; so that we who listen to them may understand that it is not they who say these things whose value is so great, they from whom the spirit is absent, but that it is the Divinity himself who speaks, who through them makes us hear his voice^{^iv} ! ». Several words were used to designate the various kinds of « possession » experienced in ancient Greece, such as entheatho, enthousiastikos, enthousiasmos, entheastikos.The most direct term is entheos, meaning literally « the one in whom God is ». The prefix en– emphasizes that the Divinity inhabits the interiority of the human spirit. It’s tempting to draw a parallel with the modes of possession by the Spirit of God described in the Hebrew Bible. For example, the Spirit of Elohim, rûaḥ elohim, comes not « into » but « upon » Saul, ‘alChaoul, to inflame him, burn him with anger and drive him to victory over the Ammonites^v. Isaiah, speaking of the Messiah to come, the scion of the stock of Jesse, uses the expression rûaḥyhwh, the Spirit of YHVH^viwho will « rest » not in him, but « upon him^{^vii}« . The Spirit of YHVH is a « spirit of wisdom and understanding, spirit of counsel and strength, spirit of knowledge and fear of God^{^viii}« , and it seems to be of a more peaceful nature, wiser even, than the Spirit of Elohim. Just after the disappearance of Elijah (whom God raised to heaven^{^ix}), it is neither the Spirit of Elohim nor that of YHVH, but the spirit of Elijah that comes to rest on Elisha,according to the testimony of the young prophets observing the scene^{^x}. Unlike the Spirit of YHVH, who is all « wisdom and intelligence », Dionysus, the God entheos, the God within, is not a « wise » God, he is a μαινόμενος Διόνυσος, a mainomenos Dionysus, a « crazy God », a Dionysus agitated with bachic transports, a Bacchos(Βάκχος). There are many forms of divine possession. It’s difficult to be exhaustive. Socrates, for example, declared that he himself could suddenly become « possessed by nymphs », νυμφόληπτος, nympholeptos. « This place has something divine about it, » he said to Phaedrus, « and if the nymphs who inhabit it were to cause me in the course of my discourse some frenzied transport, you should not be surprised. Already I’ve risen to the tone of a dithyramb^{^xi}. » The chresmologist Bakis, who influenced general Epaminondas regarding the outcome of the Messenian-Lacedemonian war, was also described by Pausanias as « mad by nymphs^{^xii}« , μανέντι ἐκ Νυμφῶν. The existence of adjectives such as nympholeptos, « taken by the nymphs », theoleptos, « taken by a god », or even phoiboleptos, « taken by Apollo », seem to indicate specific experiences of divine possession. These possessions are structurally different from ecstasy^{^xiii}. The latter, by its etymology, implies a change of place, and possibly a wandering. During ecstasy, soul and body separate. The soul can then travel freely around the world, or wander through time, alone or in the company of the God… Herodotus tells us that Aristaeus suddenly disappeared in the city of Proconnesus. He was thought dead, but was seen shortly afterwards in Cyzicus. He disappeared again, but three hundred and forty years later, he reappeared in Metapontum, accompanying Apollo in the form of a raven^xiv. Pliny quotes this anecdote briefly, without giving it much weight: « It is even said that the soul of Aristaeus was seen in Proconnesus, flying out of his mouth, in the form of a crow; a singularly fabulous tale^{^xv}. » But he also relates that the soul of Hermotime of Clazomenes left his body to wander in distant lands, and that on its return it indicated things that could only have been known by someone present at the scene^{^xvi}. The idea of the soul’s wandering in the world leads to a comparison with the race of Apollo, named Liber Pater (« the free Father ») by the Romans, because he is « free and wandering (vagus)^xvii« .Aristotle alsoasserted, in the Theologumens, that Apollo and Liber Pater are one and the same God^{^xviii}. Macrobius says that « Orpheus calls the sun Phanes ‘ἀπὸ τοῦ φῶτος καὶ φανεροῦ’, i.e. light and illumination; because indeed, seeing all, he is seen everywhere. Orpheus still calls him Dionysos^{^xix}. » In his verses, Orpheus identifies Apollo with Dios and Dionysus with Apollo: « Dios, having liquefied the Aether, which was previously solid, made visible to the gods the most beautiful phenomenon that can be seen. He was called Phanes Dionysus, Lord, Wise Counselor (Εὐβουλῆα), dazzling procreator of self; finally, men give him various names. He was the first who showed himself with light; and advanced under the name of Dionysus, to traverse the boundless contour of Olympus. But he changes his names and forms according to the times and seasons^{^xx}. » God has many names, but he is one. The oracle of the Apollo of Claros says of him: « Εἷς Ζεὺς, εἷς Ἅιδης, εἷς Ἥλιος, εἷς Διόνυσος. One Zeus, one Hades, one Sun, one Dionysus. » According to the same oracle, the « one » God is also called Ἰαὼ, « Iaô », a name strangely analogous to that of the Hebrew God, Yahwé or Yah. Consulted to find out who this God was « Iaô », the oracle replied, « After being initiated into the mysteries, you must keep them hidden and tell no one about them; for (man’s) intelligence is narrow, prone to error, and his mind is weak. I declare that the greatest of all gods is Iao, who is Aïdès (Hades), in winter; at the beginning of spring, Dia (Jupiter); in summer, Hélios (the sun); and in autumn, the glorious Iaô« . Dios, Dia, Zeus, Dionysos, Iaô are the same, unique God. This God, through his breath, his pneuma, animates the living, and gives humans a share in his creative power. The pneuma represents the essence of divinity. Only when this sacred breath (hieron pneuma) takes possession of him, can the poet create with « enthusiasm », as Plato explains in the Ion. The pneuma is both creator and procreator. By the breath of Zeus, ek epipnoias Zènos, Io conceives Epaphos. And it is again a « breath in god », an atmon entheon, that makes Pythia « fat » with divine logos. The pneuma is as fertile as the logos spermatikos, spermatic reason, or seminal speech, which sustains the existence of the world. « The words God, intelligence, destiny, Jupiter and many others like them refer to one and the same being. God exists absolutely by himself. In the beginning, he changed into water all the substance that filled the air, and just as in generation the germs of beings are enveloped, so too God, who is the seminal reason of the world (σπερματικὸν λόγον ὄντα τοῦ κόσμου)^{^xxi}. » But possession by the divine breath does not produce the same effects, depending on whether it comes from Zeus, or Apollo or Dionysus, although these various names are those of the same God, ‘one’. For example, Dionysus drives mad those who don’t believe in him. He made his mother Semele’s sisters delirious, because they didn’t recognize that Dionysus was born of Zeus^{^xxii}. Pentheus, son of Cadmus’ daughter, also denied Dionysus’ divinity. « He fights against my divinity, excludes me from the libations, and does not mention my name in prayer. So I intend to prove my divine birth »says Dionysus. He will be driven mad. If Dionysian delirium can drive people mad, it can also inspire prophetic power. « Know that Bacchos is a soothsayer. The fury he inspires has prophetic power like dementia. When he penetrates us with all his power, he urges us, by panicking us, to tell the future. » Prophetic power inhabits the conscience, which identifies with it. Pythia spoke as if she were God himself. But what had become of her will, her own intelligence? Had they dissolved into the divine? Or was the abolition of Pythia’s personal consciousness a necessary condition for the truth of revelation?

____________________

iPlato, Ion, 533 e

ii« Just as those who fall prey to the delirium of the Corybantes do not indulge in their dances when they have their spirits, so too the authors of lyrical songs do not have their spirits when they compose these magnificent songs; on the contrary, as often as they have embarked on harmony and rhythm, then seizes them the bachic transport, and, possessed, they resemble the Bacchae who draw honey and milk from the rivers when they are in a state of possession, but not when they have their spirits. » Plato, Ion, 533 e -534 a

iiiPlato, Ion, 534 b

ivPlato, Ion, 534 c-d

vI Samuel, 11, 6

viIs. 61,1 uses the expression : רוּחַ אֲדֹנָי יְהוִה, rûaḥ adonaï yhwh, lthe Spirit of the Lord YHVH.

viiIs. 11,2

viiiIs. 11,2

ix2 Kings 2:1

x2 Kings 2:15

xiPlato, Phaedrus, 238c-d. « Τῷ ὄντι γὰρ θεῖος ἔοικεν ὁ τόπος εἶναι, ὥστε ἐὰν ἄρα πολλάκις νυμφόληπτος προϊόντος τοῦ λόγου, γένωμαι μὴ θαυμάσῃς- τὰ νῦν γὰρ πόρρω διθυράμβων φθέγγομαι. »

xiiPausanias IV, 27.4

xiiiThe Greek word ἒκστασις, ekstasis, means « wandering of the mind », with, by its etymology, the idea of a change of place (ek-stasis), a departure from one’s natural place. The adjective ἐκστατικός, ekstatikoshas two meanings, transitive and intransitive: « 1. Transitive. Which makes one change places, which disturbs; which makes one leave oneself, which leads the mind astray. 2. Intrans. One who is out of one’s way, one whose mind has wandered. »

xivHerodotus IV, 14-15: « Aristaeus was from one of the best families in his country; it is said that he died in Proconnesus, in the store of a fuller, where he had entered by chance; that the fuller, having closed his store, went at once to warn the relatives of the dead man; that this rumor having soon spread through the whole city, a Cyzicene, who came from Artace, disputed this news, and assured that he had met Aristaeus going to Cyzicus, and that he had spoken to him ; that, while he was holding him up, the dead man’s relatives went to the fuller’s store, with all they needed to carry him to his burial place; but that, when they opened the house, they found neither Aristaeus dead nor alive; that, seven years later, he appeared again in Proconnese, wrote the epic poem that the Greeks now call Arimaspies, and that he disappeared for the second time. This is what the cities of Proconnese and Cyzic say about Aristaeus. (…) The Metapontines report that Aristaeus appeared to them and commanded them to erect an altar to Apollo, and to erect a statue near this altar, to be given the name of Aristaeus of Proconnesus; that he told them they were the only people of the Italiotes whom Apollo had visited; that he himself, who was now Aristaeus, accompanied the god in the form of a raven; and that after this speech he disappeared. The Metapontines add that, having sent to Delphi to ask the god what this specter might be, the Pythia ordered them to do as he told them, and that they would be better off for it; and that, on this reply, they complied with the orders given to them. Even now, in the public square of Metapontum, next to the statue of Apollo, you can see another statue bearing the name of Aristaeus, and the laurel trees that surround them

xvPliny. NaturalHistory.VII, 52, 2

xviPliny. Natural History. VII, 52, 1: « Such is the condition of mortals: we are born for these whims of fate, and in man we must not even believe in death. We find in the books that the soul of Hermotime the Clazomenian, leaving his body, went wandering in distant lands, and that it indicated things that could only have been known by someone present on the spot; meanwhile: the body was half dead: but his enemies, who called themselves Cantharides, seizing this moment to burn his body, removed, as it were, the case to the soul that was returning. »

xviiMacrobius, Saturnalia, XVIII

xviiiMacrobius, Saturnalia, XVIII

xixMacrobius, Saturnalia, XVIII

xxMacrobius, Saturnalia, XVIII

xxiDiogenes Laërce, VII, 115-136

xxiiEuripides. The Bacchae,v. 26-32. Translation by M. Delcourt-Curvers. Gallimard, 1962, p.1216

Political Theology, Nazism and War in Ukraine

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s Article « Théologie Politique, Nazisme et guerre en Ukraine »

Théologie politique, nazisme et guerre en Ukraine…

Inanna, Dumuzi, and their Sacred Marriage

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s articles: « Inanna and Dumuzi . Their Sacred Marriage and How It Ended » and, in French, « Inanna et Dumuzi: la Fin de leur Sacré Mariage ».

Inanna and Dumuzi. Their sacred marriage and how it ended.

Inanna et Dumuzi: La fin de leur sacré mariage.

Alkaloids and Transcendence

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s article: « Alcaloïdes, Symbiose et Transcendance »

Alcaloïdes, symbiose et transcendance

The Quantum Theory of Proto-Consciousness

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s Article « The Quantum Theory of Proto-Consciousness : A Critique and some Perspectives »

The Quantum Theory of Proto-Consciousness: a Critique and some Perspectives

The Absolute, The Abyss and Persephone

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s Article « The Absolute, The Abyss and Persephone ».

The Absolute, the Abyss and Persephone

God and Dung

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s article « Divinité et Scatologie »:

https://metaxu.org/2021/11/28/divinite-et-scatologie/

The Unconscious God

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Horeb » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2024

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s article « The Unconscious God »

The Unconscious God

The God Named « Me Me Him »

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« I I Him » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2024

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s article « Le Dieu ‘Moi Moi Lui' »

Le Dieu « Moi Moi Lui »

Tantric Intrication

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s Article « Intrication tantrique »

Intrication tantrique

The World History of Kafka’s Soul

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« The Death of Kafka’s Soul » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2024

A « Deep Dive » Podcast in English about my Blog’s article : « Histoire mondiale de l’âme de Kafka »

Histoire mondiale de l’âme de Kafka

Brahman, Kenosis and Tsimtsoum

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Abraham Hosting Three Strangers » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Κέω) 2024

A « deep dive » podcast, translated into English, about my Blog’s article « Brahman, Kenosis and Tsimtsoum »

Le bráhman, le brahmán, la kénose et le tsimtsoum

Making God

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A « Deep Dive » Podcast about my Blog article : « Making God »: Kabbalah, Trance and Theurgy.

« Making God »: Kabbalah, Trance and Theurgy.

Being Other

Publié par Philippe Quéau

Podcast in English about my blog article « L’Être Autre » https://metaxu.org/2024/08/14/letre-autre/

About God Yah

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Invisible silence » ©Philippe Quéau 2024 ©Art Κέω 2024

Podcast translated into English from https://metaxu.org/2024/06/09/du-dieu-yah/

Gravitational Metaphysics

Publié par Philippe Quéau

Podcast translated into English from https://metaxu.org/2024/08/27/metaphysique-gravitationnelle/

Brain Dark Energy

Publié par Philippe Quéau

A Podcast summarizing and translating: https://metaxu.org/2024/04/16/lenergie-noire-du-cerveau/

« Dark Energy » ©Philippe Quéau (Art Kéo) 2024

An Unphilosophical Prophet

Publié par Philippe Quéau

The Wishing Dervish

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« The Wishing Whirling Dervish » ©Philippe Quéau ©Art Kéo 2023

Presence of Absense

Publié par Philippe Quéau

« Présence de l’absence » ©Philippe Quéau ©Art Kéo 2023

Le soi sincère

Publié par Philippe Quéau

Explication : le soi ceint serre; mais, le « sois saint » sert…

Gazing Old Men

Publié par Philippe Quéau

	Philippe Quéau dans The ΞϔΘϪ Theory
	zumpoems dans The ΞϔΘϪ Theory
	Chaos-Cosmos-Noos-Th… dans Le vide et l’âme
	The Occasionnal Move… dans Liberté, kénose et tsimts…
	Le Moteur d’oc… dans Liberté, kénose et tsimts…

	Philippe Quéau dans The ΞϔΘϪ Theory
	zumpoems dans The ΞϔΘϪ Theory
	Chaos-Cosmos-Noos-Th… dans Le vide et l’âme
	The Occasionnal Move… dans Liberté, kénose et tsimts…
	Le Moteur d’oc… dans Liberté, kénose et tsimts…

Metaxu. Le blog de Philippe Quéau

Pour une anthropologie de la conscience

Philosophy

The ΞϔΘϪ Theory

The vacuum and the soul

The Occasional Mover

The Soul’s Wave Packet

Death Instinct v. Survival Instinct

The Unconscious God

The Star, the Stone, the Oil and the Self

Human and Non-Human Consciousnesses

Possession and consciousness

Political Theology, Nazism and War in Ukraine

Inanna, Dumuzi, and their Sacred Marriage

Alkaloids and Transcendence

The Quantum Theory of Proto-Consciousness

The Absolute, The Abyss and Persephone

God and Dung

The Unconscious God

The God Named « Me Me Him »

Tantric Intrication

The World History of Kafka’s Soul

Brahman, Kenosis and Tsimtsoum

Making God

Being Other

About God Yah

Gravitational Metaphysics

Brain Dark Energy

An Unphilosophical Prophet

The Wishing Dervish

Presence of Absense

Le soi sincère

Gazing Old Men

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