My life is a story of the self-realization of the unconscious. Everything in the unconscious seeks outward manifestation, and the personality too desires to evolve out of its unconscious conditions and to experience itself as a whole. I cannot employ the language of science to trace this process of growth in myself, for I cannot experience myself as a scientific problem.
What we are to our inward vision, and what man appears to be sub specie aeternitatis,
(Ed. from the standpoint of eternity) ; can only be expressed by way of myth. Myth is more individual and expresses the life more precisely than does science. Science works with concepts of averages which are far too general to do justice to the subjective variety of an individual life.
Thus it is that I have now undertaken in my eighty-third year, to tell my personal myth. I can only ,make direct statements, only "tell stories" Whether or not the stories are "true" is not the problem. The only question is whether what I tell is my fable, my myth.
The opening of the Prologue to Memories, Dreams, Reflections.
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