Post by Rob on May 18, 2015 12:21:20 GMT
My name is Emeritus.
My family has lived in the shadows of the Alps here in Switzerland for generations. We are farmers and the land is our own. In our small village of Bollingen, we all know each other. Seldonm has anyone ever left. Our children pick up where their parents left off. You will see all the family names in the cemetery near the lake. I want to tell you about one of our families.
This family were one of the newer ones to town, purchasing land in 1922. They were from the city and were not farmers. They insisted on land near the water. There was lightening the day they arrived. Over the mountains the sky had gotten very dark. The cows had all gathered close. It did not last long and then came the most beautiful rainbow. I will never forget that day.
One Sunday I was walking with the children along the railroad track and we came to the new family’s land. We had never met and as we passed by I could see the man there doing something in the Lake. Was he fishing, I wondered. As we came
back around, he walked over to us and said hello. He was a large man with strong hands. We all paid attention when he spoke. After we left my daughter asked how does that man know us so well. I had the same question.
` I had noticed that often the man often came to his land alone. I also saw that he was building a stone structure and it was round. I wondered what it was and I asked him one day when I saw him at the bakery. He said it was his sanctuary. I had no idea what he meant.
Every so often he would bring his family and the young children seem to have a good time, often playing in the Lake. He and his wife often would walk along the tracks. His family seemed very important to him.
When my son got older often he would go for walks alone along the tracks. One day I saw him leave and he did not come back in an hour or so, so I went out looking for him. I saw him and the man, who by now we called, Mr. J., talking. My son was sitting against a tree stump and when he saw me, he came running. As we walked home he told that Mr. J told him he was interested in dreams and before he knew, my son was telling him the scary dream he had about the snakes.
I grew more and more intrigued by Mr. J. Not that I knew much about him. One day I asked If he was a Pastor and that was the reason he called His structure his sanctuary. He laughed and so “No, ‘ but my Dad was.” So perhaps that was the reason.
Often I would smell the aroma of food coming from his sanctuary and I knew he was alone. I have never met anyone that like to be alone so much.
One afternoon in the Spring I was on the lake and could see Mr. J out by the water. He had a hammer and chisel and was pounding on a piece of stone. He did not seem to notice us. Off in the woods surrounding his land were two deer watching him and I could see a number of hawks in the tree branches also watching. I do not know if he noticed any of them, as he was so intent on his stone.
Sometimes at the store we would talk about him and everyone would say he always seemed nice enough but no one knew him but everyone remembered the times they talked with him. Everyone marveled at how he seemed to know them whenever they talked, just like my daughter said.
One summer day he invited my wife and I for the afternoon. By then he had added another rounded structure. He had prepared a small lunch of vegetables and meat and tea. I will never forget the loaf of bread he had made. He was a funny man and had us laughing most of the time. It was amazing that as we were eating both my wife and I began talking about our dreams, something we rarely do. Mr. J. seemed very interested, and as we sipped our tea, he spoke about the things in the dreams, like he knew us, and we both felt such a friendship.
But I always had a feeling there was more to Mr. J. Then I had a very strange experience. One day in the winter of 1934 I could not get out of bed. All the energy was gone from me. Everything felt very sad and hopeless, my marriage, my family, my farm. I no longer wanted to live and I had thoughts of going to the high mountains and falling off a high cliff.
That night I had a dream. Mr. J. was leading me on a hike into the wilderness. I vaguely recognized the place. There was no one else. We walked a good distance and came to an opening where there was a circular stone sanctuary and in the middle was a campfire. Mr. J asked me to sit close to the fire as he did. We looked into the flames and eventually I started to talk. We were not looking at each other as I talked about my life and how I wanted no longer to live.
I had not talked so openly with anyone. Mr. J. was smoking his pipe and every so often would nod as if he understood what I was saying. He actually spoke very little but did keep the fire going. He asked me a couple of questions and I really felt like he had been through something similar. The fire eventually went out and he put his arm on my shoulder and the dream ended.
I remembered the dream as soon as I woke up. I had never had a dream like it. I felt entirely different as I got out of bed. My energy had returned. I felt once again like living. I mentioned this to my life and she was amazed. She said…what is it about that man over there, anyways? She also said, maybe you better start taking care of yourself and talking more. She is right. I have talked more with my cows than anyone else. probably because they never answered back, or do they? My wife pleaded for me to not spend so much out in the fields and talk more with her. She was right. My farm had become my life.
I could not believe what had happened. What was it about my neighbor? It was like magic having him in my dream. Ever since he moved here something has changed. I do not know what it is. Now the dream. It is like he is an old friend. I will never forget that dream
And yet I do not know him very well. But he seems to know me very well, every time we talk, he talks about things that connect to everything in me. Every time I am out with the cows I see him sitting by the way with a long stick. I have no idea what he is doing but he cannot be disturbed by anything. I have even seen him there when it is raining.
One year I noticed there was another structure being build near the others. This one was not as close to the water. After tending my herd I walked over as I saw Mr. J outside. He seemed very sad and I asked him if he was ok. He said his wife had died last week. I had met her once, such a friendly woman. I felt very sad with the news. He said he was building the new structure for her. There seemed to be such love between them. There was loneliness in his eyes that I will never forget.
When my wife heard the news she wanted to take by a meal for Mr. J. He appreciated it and invited us to eat with him. He talked about his wife and how important she had been to him. As we left he said he had a gift he wanted to give us.
It was the most beautiful book I had ever seen. It had blank pages and it was made of red leather. He said he had one like it and called it his Red Book.
He said we would write and paint in it. I had never had such a book and never wrote or painted anything in a book. I had no idea what he was talking about but it was a wonderful gift. We put it by the fireplace. I noticed he had even written in it. It said “To my good neighbors, Emeritus and his wife. Signed Mr. J.”
` One day not long ago I was in the village store getting parts for my tractor. I heard the owner talking to one of my other neighbors and I could not believe what I was hearing. Mr. J had died, they said.
I had noticed that he had not been around much lately and I had missed him. They said they were having services in town in two days. I got my parts and walked home and told my wife. We both said we would go to the services.
We had not been to town for a long time, as there was no need. I did not think the tractor would make it so we walked. It was 40 km’s but we wanted to be there. I am glad we went. There were lots of people. It appeared that Mr. J was very well known. I had no idea. In fact there were famous people there. We sat in the back of the church. I was so sad that I didn’t hear much of the service, except at the end I heard his name, for the first time. Carl Gustav Jung. What a name. What a neighbor.
During the next week I kept looking at the red leather book he had given us. I had never written or painted in it. One evening after the cows were milked I decided to write something.
“When I hear cow bells sound I stop my work and say a prayer.
Silence has protected the mountains; mystery has grown in the sea,
I find my courage in the early morning when I look at the mountains.
My soul I know to be free.
Life is larger than I have known it.
Strength has come when I am weakest.
Mr. Jung, my neighbor, has been my friend.”
Signed, Emeritus G.
My family has lived in the shadows of the Alps here in Switzerland for generations. We are farmers and the land is our own. In our small village of Bollingen, we all know each other. Seldonm has anyone ever left. Our children pick up where their parents left off. You will see all the family names in the cemetery near the lake. I want to tell you about one of our families.
This family were one of the newer ones to town, purchasing land in 1922. They were from the city and were not farmers. They insisted on land near the water. There was lightening the day they arrived. Over the mountains the sky had gotten very dark. The cows had all gathered close. It did not last long and then came the most beautiful rainbow. I will never forget that day.
One Sunday I was walking with the children along the railroad track and we came to the new family’s land. We had never met and as we passed by I could see the man there doing something in the Lake. Was he fishing, I wondered. As we came
back around, he walked over to us and said hello. He was a large man with strong hands. We all paid attention when he spoke. After we left my daughter asked how does that man know us so well. I had the same question.
` I had noticed that often the man often came to his land alone. I also saw that he was building a stone structure and it was round. I wondered what it was and I asked him one day when I saw him at the bakery. He said it was his sanctuary. I had no idea what he meant.
Every so often he would bring his family and the young children seem to have a good time, often playing in the Lake. He and his wife often would walk along the tracks. His family seemed very important to him.
When my son got older often he would go for walks alone along the tracks. One day I saw him leave and he did not come back in an hour or so, so I went out looking for him. I saw him and the man, who by now we called, Mr. J., talking. My son was sitting against a tree stump and when he saw me, he came running. As we walked home he told that Mr. J told him he was interested in dreams and before he knew, my son was telling him the scary dream he had about the snakes.
I grew more and more intrigued by Mr. J. Not that I knew much about him. One day I asked If he was a Pastor and that was the reason he called His structure his sanctuary. He laughed and so “No, ‘ but my Dad was.” So perhaps that was the reason.
Often I would smell the aroma of food coming from his sanctuary and I knew he was alone. I have never met anyone that like to be alone so much.
One afternoon in the Spring I was on the lake and could see Mr. J out by the water. He had a hammer and chisel and was pounding on a piece of stone. He did not seem to notice us. Off in the woods surrounding his land were two deer watching him and I could see a number of hawks in the tree branches also watching. I do not know if he noticed any of them, as he was so intent on his stone.
Sometimes at the store we would talk about him and everyone would say he always seemed nice enough but no one knew him but everyone remembered the times they talked with him. Everyone marveled at how he seemed to know them whenever they talked, just like my daughter said.
One summer day he invited my wife and I for the afternoon. By then he had added another rounded structure. He had prepared a small lunch of vegetables and meat and tea. I will never forget the loaf of bread he had made. He was a funny man and had us laughing most of the time. It was amazing that as we were eating both my wife and I began talking about our dreams, something we rarely do. Mr. J. seemed very interested, and as we sipped our tea, he spoke about the things in the dreams, like he knew us, and we both felt such a friendship.
But I always had a feeling there was more to Mr. J. Then I had a very strange experience. One day in the winter of 1934 I could not get out of bed. All the energy was gone from me. Everything felt very sad and hopeless, my marriage, my family, my farm. I no longer wanted to live and I had thoughts of going to the high mountains and falling off a high cliff.
That night I had a dream. Mr. J. was leading me on a hike into the wilderness. I vaguely recognized the place. There was no one else. We walked a good distance and came to an opening where there was a circular stone sanctuary and in the middle was a campfire. Mr. J asked me to sit close to the fire as he did. We looked into the flames and eventually I started to talk. We were not looking at each other as I talked about my life and how I wanted no longer to live.
I had not talked so openly with anyone. Mr. J. was smoking his pipe and every so often would nod as if he understood what I was saying. He actually spoke very little but did keep the fire going. He asked me a couple of questions and I really felt like he had been through something similar. The fire eventually went out and he put his arm on my shoulder and the dream ended.
I remembered the dream as soon as I woke up. I had never had a dream like it. I felt entirely different as I got out of bed. My energy had returned. I felt once again like living. I mentioned this to my life and she was amazed. She said…what is it about that man over there, anyways? She also said, maybe you better start taking care of yourself and talking more. She is right. I have talked more with my cows than anyone else. probably because they never answered back, or do they? My wife pleaded for me to not spend so much out in the fields and talk more with her. She was right. My farm had become my life.
I could not believe what had happened. What was it about my neighbor? It was like magic having him in my dream. Ever since he moved here something has changed. I do not know what it is. Now the dream. It is like he is an old friend. I will never forget that dream
And yet I do not know him very well. But he seems to know me very well, every time we talk, he talks about things that connect to everything in me. Every time I am out with the cows I see him sitting by the way with a long stick. I have no idea what he is doing but he cannot be disturbed by anything. I have even seen him there when it is raining.
One year I noticed there was another structure being build near the others. This one was not as close to the water. After tending my herd I walked over as I saw Mr. J outside. He seemed very sad and I asked him if he was ok. He said his wife had died last week. I had met her once, such a friendly woman. I felt very sad with the news. He said he was building the new structure for her. There seemed to be such love between them. There was loneliness in his eyes that I will never forget.
When my wife heard the news she wanted to take by a meal for Mr. J. He appreciated it and invited us to eat with him. He talked about his wife and how important she had been to him. As we left he said he had a gift he wanted to give us.
It was the most beautiful book I had ever seen. It had blank pages and it was made of red leather. He said he had one like it and called it his Red Book.
He said we would write and paint in it. I had never had such a book and never wrote or painted anything in a book. I had no idea what he was talking about but it was a wonderful gift. We put it by the fireplace. I noticed he had even written in it. It said “To my good neighbors, Emeritus and his wife. Signed Mr. J.”
` One day not long ago I was in the village store getting parts for my tractor. I heard the owner talking to one of my other neighbors and I could not believe what I was hearing. Mr. J had died, they said.
I had noticed that he had not been around much lately and I had missed him. They said they were having services in town in two days. I got my parts and walked home and told my wife. We both said we would go to the services.
We had not been to town for a long time, as there was no need. I did not think the tractor would make it so we walked. It was 40 km’s but we wanted to be there. I am glad we went. There were lots of people. It appeared that Mr. J was very well known. I had no idea. In fact there were famous people there. We sat in the back of the church. I was so sad that I didn’t hear much of the service, except at the end I heard his name, for the first time. Carl Gustav Jung. What a name. What a neighbor.
During the next week I kept looking at the red leather book he had given us. I had never written or painted in it. One evening after the cows were milked I decided to write something.
“When I hear cow bells sound I stop my work and say a prayer.
Silence has protected the mountains; mystery has grown in the sea,
I find my courage in the early morning when I look at the mountains.
My soul I know to be free.
Life is larger than I have known it.
Strength has come when I am weakest.
Mr. Jung, my neighbor, has been my friend.”
Signed, Emeritus G.