Introversion is no child's play. It leads to abysses, by which we may be swallowed up past recall. Whoever submits to introversion arrives at a point where two ways part; and there he must come to a decision, than which a more difficult one cannot be conceived. The symbol of the abyss, of the parting of the ways, both were clearly contained in our parable. The occurrence of the similar motive in myths and fairy tales is familiar. The danger is obvious in that the hero generally makes an apparently quite trivial mistake and then must make extraordinary efforts to save himself from the effects of these few trivial errors. One more wrong step and all would have been lost.
Introversion accordingly presents two possibilities, either to gain what the mystic work seeks, or to lose oneself.
In introversion the libido sinks into “its own depths” (a figure that Nietzsche likes to use), and [pg 270] finds there below in the shadows of the unconscious, the equivalent for the world above which it has left, namely the world of phantasy and memories, of which the strongest and most influential are the early infantile memory images. It is the child's world, the paradise of early childhood, from which a rigorous law has separated us. In this subterranean realm slumber sweet domestic feelings and the infinite hopes of all “becoming.” Yet as Mephistopheles says, “The peril is great.” This depth is seducing: it is the “mother” and—death. If the libido remains suspended in the wonder realm of the inner world the man has become but a shadow for the world above. He is as good as dead or mortally ill; if the libido succeeds however in tearing itself loose again and of pressing on to the world above, then a miracle is revealed; this subterranean journey has become a fountain of youth for it, and from its apparent death there arises a new productiveness. This train of thought is very beautifully contained in an Indian myth: Once on a time Vishnu absorbed in rapture (introversion) bore in this sleep Brahma, who enthroned on a lotus flower, arose from Vishnu's navel and was carrying the Vedas, eagerly reading them. (Birth of creative thought from introversion.) Because of Vishnu's rapture, however, a monstrous flood overcame the world (swallowing up through introversion, symbolizing the danger of entering into the mother of death). A demon profiting by the danger, stole the vedas from Brahma and hid them in the deep. (Swallowing [pg 271] of the libido.) Brahma wakes Vishnu and he, changing into a fish, dived into the flood, battled with the demon (dragon fight), conquered him and brought the vedas up again. (Prize attained with difficulty.) (Cf. Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious.)
The marvel of the invigoration that can be attained in the successful issue of introversion is comparable to the effect that Antæus felt on touching his mother, the earth. The mother of men, to whom introversion carries us, is the spirit of the race, and from it flows gigantic strength. “This occasional retiring into oneself, which means a return to an infantile relation to the parent images, appears within certain limits to have a favorable effect upon the condition of the individual.” Of this mine of power Stekel (Nerv. Angst., p. 375) writes: “When mankind desires to create something big, it must reach down deep into the reservoir of its past.”
I wish now to quote a mystic philosopher. J. B. von Helmont (1577-1644) writes: “That magic power of man which is operative outside of him lies, as it were, hidden in the inner life of mankind. It sleeps and rules absolutely without being wakened, yet daily as if in a drunken stupor within us.... Therefore we should pray to God, who can be honored only in the spirit, that is, in the inmost soul of man. Hence I say the art of the Cabala requires of the soul that magic yet natural power shall, as it were, after sleep has been driven away, be placed in the keeping of the soul. This magic power has [pg 272] gone, to sleep in us through sin and has to be awakened again. This happens either through the illumination of the Holy Ghost or a man himself can by the art of the Cabala produce this power of awakening himself at will. Such are called makers of gold [nota bene!] whose leader (rector) is, however, the spirit of God.... When God created the soul of man he imparted to it fundamental and primal knowledge. The soul is the mirror of the universe and is related to all Being. It is illumined by an inner light, but the storm of the passions, the multiplicity of sensuous impressions, and other distractions darken this light, whose beams are spread abroad only, if it burns alone and if all in us is in harmony and peace. If we know how to separate ourselves from all external influences and are willing to be led by this inner light, we shall find pure and true knowledge in us. In this state of concentration the soul distinguishes all objects to which it directs its attention. It can unite with them, penetrate their nature, and can itself reach God and in him know the most important truths.” (Ennemoser, Gesch. d. Mag., pp. 906, 914.)
Staudenmaier, who has experimented on himself magically to a great extent and has set down his experiences recently in the interesting book, “Die Magie als experimentelle Naturwissenschaft,” thinks he has observed that through the exercise that he carries on, and which produces an intense introversion, psychophysical energies are set free that make him capable of greater efficiency. Specifically, [pg 273] an actual drawing upon the nerve centers unused in the conscious function of the normal man of to-day would be available for intellectual work, etc. So, as it were, a treasure can be gained (by practices having a significant introversion character), a treasure which permits an increased thinking and feeling activity. If Staudenmaier, even in the critical examination of his anomalous functions, can be influenced by them, it would be a great mistake to put them aside simply as “pathological.”
Ennemoser says of the danger of introversion (l. c., p. 175): “Now where in men of impure heart, through the destructive natural powers and evil spiritual relations, the deepest transcendental powers are aroused, dark powers may very easily seize the roots of feeling and reveal moral abysses, which the man fixed in the limits of time hardly suspects and from which human nature recoils. Such an illicit ecstasy and evil inspiration is at least recognized in the religious teachings of the Jews and Christians, and the seers of God describe it as an agreement with hell (Isaiah XXVIII, 15).”
Whence comes the danger? It comes from the powerful attraction for us of that world which is opened to us through introversion. We descend there to whet our arms for fresh battles, but we lay them down; for we feel ourselves embraced by soft caressing arms that invite us to linger, to dream enchanting dreams. This fact coincides in large part with the previously mentioned tendency toward comfort, which is unwilling to forego childhood and [pg 274] a mother's careful hands. Introversion is an excellent road to lazy phantasying in the regressive direction.
Among psychopathologists Jung especially has of late strongly insisted upon the dangerous rôle of indolence. According to him the libido possesses a monstrous laziness which is unwilling to let go of any object of the past, but would prefer to retain it forever. Laziness is actually a passion, as La Rochefoucauld brilliantly remarks: “Of all the passions the least understood by us is laziness; it is the most indefatigable and the most malign of them all, although its outrages are imperceptible.” “It is the perilous passion affecting the primitive man more than all others, which appears behind the suspicious mask of the incest symbols, from which the fear of incest has driven us away, and which above all is to be vanquished under the guise of the ‘dreaded mother.’ [Vide, [Note D]. To avoid a wrong conception of this quotation it must be noted that laziness is, of course, not to be regarded as the only foundation of incest symbolism.] She is the mother of infinite evils, not the least of them being the neurotic maladies. For especially from the vapor of remaining libido residues, those damaging evils of phantasy develop, which so enshroud reality that adaptation becomes well nigh impossible.” (Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious.)
That the indolent shrinking back from the difficulties of life is indicated so frequently in psychology and in mythology by the symbol of the mother [pg 275] is not surprising, but I should yet like to offer for a forceful illustration an episode from the war of Cyrus against Astyages which I find recorded in Dulaure-Krauss-Reiskel (Zeugg., p. 85.) After Astyages had aroused his troops, he hurled himself with fiery zeal at the army of the Persians, which was taken unawares and retreated. Their mothers and their wives came to them and begged them to attack again. On seeing them irresolute the women unclothed themselves before them, pointed to their bosoms and asked them whether they would flee to the bosoms of their mothers or their wives. This reproachful sight decided them to turn about and they remained victorious.