April 15, 2008

Farewell for Now

I have decided to embark on another hiatus from blogging.

I will return when I have mastered the art of building, as Socrates instructs Callicles in Plato’s Gorgias :

Socrates: Well, then, if you and I, Callicles, were intending to set about some public business, and were advising one another to undertake buildings, such as walls, docks, or temples of the largest size, ought we not to examine ourselves, first, as to whether we know or do not know the art of building, and who taught us? - would that not be necessary, Callicles?

Callicles: True.

Socrates: In the second place, we should have to consider whether we had ever constructed any private house, either of our own or for our friends, and whether this building of ours was a success or not; and if upon consideration we found that we had had good and eminent masters, and had been successful in constructing many fine buildings, not only with their assistance, but without them, by our own unaided skill - in that case prudence would not dissuade us from proceeding to the construction of public works. But if we had no master to show, and only a number of worthless buildings or none at all, then, surely, it would be ridiculous in us to attempt public works, or to advise one another to undertake them. Is not this true?

In response to those who believe that more political organization, not less, is the order of the day, I am not in disagreement. But neither am I willing to continue thinking of the unenlightened self as an organizing force. Consider this anecdote from Mysterium Conjunctionis, in which Carl Jung repeats a story shared with him by Richard Wilhelm, a western sojourner in China:

There was a great drought where Wilhelm lived; for months there had not been a drop of rain and the situation became catastrophic. The Catholics made processions, the Protestants made prayers, and the Chinese burned joss-sticks and shot off guns to frighten away the demons of the drought, but with no result.

Finally the Chinese said, ‘We will fetch the rain-maker.’ And from another province a dried up old man appeared. The only thing he asked for was a quiet little house somewhere, and there he locked himself in for three days.

On the fourth day the clouds gathered and there was a great snow-storm at the time of the year when no snow was expected, an unusual amount, and the town was so full of rumours about the wonderful rain-maker that Wilhelm went to ask the man how he did it.

In true European fashion he said: ‘They call you the rain-maker; will you tell me how you made the snow?’

And the little Chinese said: ‘I did not make the snow; I am not responsible.’

‘But what have you done these three days?’

‘Oh, I can explain that. I come from another country where things are in order. Here they are out of order; they are not as they should be by the ordinance of heaven. Therefore the whole country is not in Tao, and I also am not in the natural order of things because I am in a disordered country. So I had to wait three days until I was back in Tao and then naturally the rain came.’”

I am aiming for a return in December of 2012, but who knows - maybe sooner, mayber later.

This anecdote points toward a profound vision of harmony between self, nature, and human community. I am challenging myself to refrain from further publication until I know that my thoughts, actions, and words are truly in tune with this higher order.

In the meantime, if you’d like, feel free to contact me at jonathan (dot) maxson (at) gmail (dot) com.