Jung and the Archetype of the Apocalypse
As we have noted in earlier essays, Jung was very intuitive. Thanks to his keen intuition he was able to sense shifts in the collective consciousness long before outer changes made these shifts obvious to others. One of the shifts he noted was the approach of the end time and the activation of what he called the archetype of the apocalypse. As early as the 1950’s Jung foresaw the approach of the “end time.”
Jung felt it was important for people to know about this archetype because he recognized the power each individual has to change the future. He knew that if enough people become aware of the apocalypse, as an archetype, understand its intentions and internalize its meaning in their own lives, the fate of the world might be more positive. In this essay we are going to discuss briefly the meaning and features of archetypes, with particular attention to the archetype of the apocalypse, and then consider how it relates to the individual and to the collective. We conclude with identifying some of the signs of the approach of the archetype in our world at the moment and Jung’s attitude toward apocalypticists.
The Meaning of “Archetype”
In a paper presented at a London symposium in 1919 Jung used the term “archetype” for the first time, to refer to the
a priori, inborn forms of “intuition,”… which are the necessary a priori determinants of all psychic processes. Just as his instincts compel man to a specifically human mode of existence, so the archetypes force his ways of perception and apprehension into specifically human patterns. The instincts and the archetypes together form the “collective unconscious.”
Earlier in his publications Jung had used the terms “primordial image,” and “the inborn mode of psychic apprehension…”. None of these definitions is likely to illuminate the meaning and value of the notion for the contemporary layperson devoted to Jungiana. So, eager to convey the utility of the concept to their students, later Jungian analysts have elaborated Jung’s definition.
One of the most thorough explications of the concept is found in Anthony Stevens’ Archetype Revisited: An Updated Natural History of the Self. In this revision of his earlier study of the concept, Stevens defines archetypes as
“innate neuropsychic centers possessing the capacity to initiate, control and mediate the common behavioral characteristics and typical experiences of all human beings, irrespective of race, culture or creed.”
What’s this mean? Let’s examine each of the components of this definition.
First of all, archetypes are “innate,” that is, they are part of our psychic makeup, much as our instincts are. We don’t have to learn them or do any sort of conscious work to make them part of our array of human traits: they already are within us, as a form of natural self-organization.
Next, Stevens describes archetypes as “neuropsychic centers.” They are part of our psyche and our nervous system. And they hold potential, i.e. they give rise to patterns of behavior. Archetypes help us to respond in the moment to experiences that arise in life.
One example that I use in my classes which helps students grasp the idea here is the situation where a person is walking along a sidewalk and comes upon a tiny infant all alone and crying. Virtually no one in such a situation would walk on by: It is part of our innate psychic makeup to stop, look around for the parents or caregivers and, if none seem to be present, to try to tend to the infant in some way. Such solicitude reflects the activation of our inner “mother” archetype, which predisposes all human beings to give nurturance, protection and comfort to infants in distress. The caregiving impulse is one pattern of behavior. As Stevens notes in his definition, the archetype “initiates” the behavior. In this case, it is the behavior associated with “mothering.”
A final feature of archetypes is their universal quality. As part of the “collective unconscious” they are common to all persons “regardless of race, culture or creed.” Every human collective has “mother,” “father,” “birth,” “death” etc. in its culture—these are universal features of human existence.
As “active living dispositions… that perform and continually influence our thoughts, feelings and actions,” archetypes are very significant in our lives. But they are not tangible: you cannot see the archetype itself but only the behaviors or patterns of feeling that the archetype gives rise to. Ultimately, Jung realized, archetypes cannot be defined (just as we cannot wrap our minds around the collective unconscious). We can best understand archetypes through our experiences as humans. We can grasp the archetype of “mother” from situations like the above example with the infant on the sidewalk.
Some Features of Archetypes
Several features we have mentioned above: Archetypes are universal and impersonal, as part of the collective unconscious which links us to all of humanity. They are also intangible–non-material–being part of our psychic makeup. We cannot see archetypes with our physical senses unless or until they spark some outer behavior or feeling. And this is another feature: Archetypes are generative, i.e. they spark actions on our part, as we noted in the example above of the “mothering” behavior that arises when we see a vulnerable infant exposed to danger. We don’t have to learn this behavior: It is innately part of our being human.
Archetypes get actualized through our personal experiences in life. In our example, the “mother” archetype gets actualized when we stop and seek help for the infant. The puer archetype is actualized when we spend time at play. The senex archetype shows up when we balance our checkbook and plan our budget for the months ahead. We will discuss how the archetype of the apocalypse shows up later in this essay.
Other features of archetypes are more subtle—their non-locality, for example. Being part of our psychic makeup, archetypes exist outside space and time. A mother’s concern for her child exists regardless of what time it is or where the child is. So it can happen that at 2 o’clock in the morning a mother in Iowa wakes up somehow knowing that her soldier son in Iraq is in some sort of danger, and several hours later she gets a call from the Army that he has been wounded and is being airlifted to the hospital in Germany.
Besides non-locality, archetypes have “a certain autonomy.” By this Jung means that archetypes will operate outside of our ego’s conscious will. In the example above of the infant on the sidewalk, we may be very busy and pressed for time, but even then, we are likely to stop and seek help for the infant. Something in us acts in spite of our desire to get to the meeting on time or to stick to the schedule.
Part of the reason archetypes have autonomy is that they have intentionality: they have a purpose; they call upon us to act in a certain way, to achieve a certain goal. In the example with the “mother” archetype, the intention is to protect the vulnerable new life, to nurture and foster. The “creator” archetype intends for us to bring something new into being. The “teacher” archetype intends for us to transmit our knowledge and wisdom to those receptive to receiving it. The archetype of the apocalypse also has intent, which we will discuss below.
Archetypes have many other features, only two of which we have space to discuss here. The first is their numinosity. Archetypes have a divine quality to them, a power and fascination that derive from their source in the collective unconscious. At times when an archetype motivates us to act we can feel caught up in something larger than ourselves. At such times it is essential that we remember not to identify with the archetype. The ego is not the archetype and can get inflated if it identifies with it. This is important to remember when we consider the archetype of the apocalypse, as we will explain below.
The second feature is the transformative potential archetypes hold. If we recognize and assimilate an archetype, it can change our lives and help us grow in amazing ways. For example, at the Jungian Center now we are seeing lives be enlarged and enriched as people recognize and assimilate the archetype of the creator. Our culture would have us believe that being creative means being gifted with the ability to paint like Picasso or compose like Beethoven. In restricting “creator” to the high arts and masterful performance, our culture has truncated our sense of creativity. But the archetype lives in each one of us and we are being creative in one way or other every day of our lives. Recognizing this and living our creativity consciously expands our reality and enlarges our lives.
The Meaning and Features of the Archetype of the Apocalypse
Before we tackle a definition of the archetype of the apocalypse, we need to understand the meaning of “apocalypse.” It comes from two Greek words, apo and kalypto, which mean “to take away” and “to cover or hide.” So “apocalypse” means literally to “take away the covering of something that has been hidden.” What’s been hidden? The truth, or more specifically, the truth about the future and what is to come. In the New Testament, the final book of the Christian Bible is often referred to the apocalypse or “revelation” given to St. John. John’s visions “took away the cover” of what previously been hidden, to reveal the future end times. Through centuries of Chrisitians’ usage referring to John and his vision the term “apocalypse” has become associated specifically with revelations that envision a “great, final catastrophe” to befall the earth.
Jung regarded apocalypse as an archetype because he recognized that such visions are not limited to Christians: they occur in every culture. Every culture has some sort of belief or account of an “end time” that will be (or has been) revealed. While the specifics vary from culture to culture, there are usually certain basic components of the archetype: Something is revealed about the future; some sort of judgment or evaluation occurs; there is destruction or punishment; and finally there is renewal, in the form of a new reality or world.
The apocalypse archetype shares some features with archetypes in general. It is, for example, what Jung called “preformed.” That is, its general form is already laid down in our unconscious psychic reality. We hear the word “apocalypse” and certain things spring to mind: judgment, destruction, cataclysm, the world not having a very good day! We don’t have to create this reaction; it just arises within us.
The apocalypse archetype is also dynamic: it provokes behaviors, feelings, thoughts and change. For most people who contemplate it, the prospect of apocalypse brings up a host of negative feelings. This is true for most people, but not all. We should note at this point that there are some people now who are actively hoping for the arrival of the apocalypse in a belief that, with the end of the world they will be “raptured” up into Heaven, leaving the “sinners” behind to experience the pain and suffering they deserve. We shall return to this apocalypticist attitude below.
Another key feature of the apocalypse archetype is intent. Like all archetypes, apocalypse is purposive. It wants something to happen. Another way to say this is that it has inherent meaning. It is not simply destructive for the sake of destroying, and this is crucial for us to remember.
What does it want to happen? What meaning might it have? We consider this on two levels: Its intention for us as individuals and what it means for the spiritual seeker; and its intention for the collective, what it means for the world.
How the Archetype of the Apocalypse Relates to the Individual
There are times in the lives of spiritual seekers when dreams arise of global annihilation, wholesale destruction, or interior landscapes of wastelands and wilderness, usually accompanied by feelings of dread, fear, gloom and doom. Sometimes these dreams take the form of images of fire or nuclear explosions, in the alchemical operation known as the calcinatio. At other times dreams show us “holding the tension of the opposites,” enduring the separatio until the transcendent function, or reconciling “third thing” appears. In other dreams we may see our world or situation from a higher perspective, in the sublimatio. Frequently we encounter repellent figures, threatening figures, people not at all like us, as we wrestle with our shadow side. No one who has stayed on the path of deep personal growth has escaped such visions, because the archetype is universal.
Throughout this process we are discomfited, and face a choice: We can resist the work, live in denial and dismiss our dreams as “trivial” or incomprehensible or inconsequential Or we can go with the flow and begin to change. This latter choice is not appealing because it entails allowing the ego to be confronted by the Self. This is not something the ego welcomes. Jung noted that “the experience of the Self is always a defeat for the ego.” The ego doesn’t like facing its own frailty. It wants to think it can run the show and be in control of life. It does not like being forced to confront its limitations. The feelings of anxiety, helplessness, despair and overwhelment that accompany our dreams when the archetype of the apocalypse is activated reflect just how much the ego is out of its depths. A key part of spiritual growth is coming to recognize how limited and inferior the ego is, compared to the wisdom and power of the Self.
When apocalpytic dreams arise spontaneously in our lives, what are we being asked to do? What is the meaning of the archetype for us, as individuals? First, we are being asked to recognize that the Self is coming into conscious realization. When it does, the inner landscape created by the wiles and worries of the ego is threatened, devastated, or shown up as inadequate and limited. We come away from these encounters feeling as if our world has been destroyed. We are being asked to recognize our limitations, see our mistakes, feel the pangs of conscience and come to sense the need to find more authentic and meaningful ways of being. Our world and worldview are shattered and this is precisely what the Self intends.
Only by losing our old world and ways of living can we experience the apocatastasis, the reconstitution or renewal that is at the heart of the archetype of the apocalypse. The Self is ever making “all things new.” It seeks our renewal. It enters consciousness—the world of the ego’s making—and shatters its conventions and images decisively, so as to permit a new inner reality more appropriate to our soul and the spiritual growth we have achieved. When the apocalypse shows up in our dream life, we must transition from our old ways of thinking and being into a more enlarged and authentic way. This process takes time (months, if not years) but the Self is patient. It is implacable, however: While it never lets us down and never lets us go, it also never lets us off! Best not to dig in one’s heels and refuse to cooperate with the Self at such times! Doing so usually forces the archetype to manifest in outer life, and then all manner of unfortunate things show up in life. The Self will not be gainsaid. If we don’t accede to the intentions of the archetype to renew and reconstitute our reality, it will force us to do so through loss of health, job, family, friends, or other painful experiences. While such experiences are terrible to endure, they pale compared to the manifestation of the archetype on the collective level. We consider that level next.
How the Archetype of the Apocalypse Relates to the Collective
On the collective level the archetype of the apocalypse seeks to reorient humanity away from the illusions of a civilization that has grown stale and inappropriate, so as to permit a new, more viable way of life. Since “civilization” is generally something about which we are unconscious, such a reorientation is a painful process, calling into question the host of assumptions we have about reality and how things are. These assumptions can be thought of as “paradigms”—unconscious beliefs, attitudes and mental constructs—that provide the bedrock of how we function in the world. In the next essay I will consider in detail some of these paradigms and how we are being asked to replace them with other models more suited to the next evolutionary stage of humanity as we look toward the future.
The shattering of paradigms is not an easy process. It presents the most severe challenge to life as we know it. We tend to think of Western Civilization as the apogee of human development and we revel in our high technology, sophisticated arts and culture, and the virtues of “modernity.” Rarely do we recognize that, in our lust for scientific progress and ever-more effective forms of control over nature, we have lost all connection to the sacred.
The collective Self is not amused. Nature will not tolerate such abuse much longer. We are seeing more and more evidence of this all over the planet. Just how the archetype of the apocalypse is showing up in our reality now is the subject of the next section of this essay.
Signs of the Archetype of Apocalypse in Our Contemporary Reality
Some signs of the activation of the apocalypse archetype on the collective level are obvious. The rise of apocalyptic cults and sects, like the Branch Davidians and Heaven’s Gate, are two examples of collectives whose leaders came to identify with the archetype and, as a result of their inflation, met their destruction and took all their followers with them. Another obvious sign is the heightening of tensions in international relations, due to the collective projection of the shadow. In this regard, the unconsciousness of global leaders does not help, e.g. George W. Bush’s repeated use of the phrase “axis of evil” to refer to nations he regarded as malevolent. “Bush 43” gave the world numerous examples of projection of the shadow in his profound unconsciousness. A third example of obvious apocalyptic energy is terrorism, reflecting the “invasion of pent-up demonic forces.” Such forces usually get activated in apocalyptic times. In light of our experience of 9/11 few people in the West would hesitate to identify the Islamic jihadists as “demonic.”
Other signs are less obvious. “Holding the tension of opposites” has been showing up collectively around the world in the last few decades: Rwanda, Northern Ireland, Yugoslavia in the 1990’s, Somalia, the Sunnis and Shi’ites in Iraq, the Jews and Palestinians in Gaza are just some of the examples of opposites in confrontation. International politics is full of enemies confronting each other as the opposites that are contained in the Self ask us, collectively, to become and remain conscious of our disparate energies and reconcile our differences.
Another sign is what Jung called the rise of “-isms.” This is a trait of our collective reality that goes back well into the 19th century. Socialism, communism, patriotism, nationalism, colonialism, imperialism—our language is rich in words that reflect our efforts to conceptualize, theorize and reduce individuality to some collective form. Jung found such efforts to depersonalize reality very offensive. Linked to this tendency is the rise of what Oswald Spengler called the “megalopolis,” or giant city—another collective form that loses sight of the individual.
Gigantic cities are possible, in part, because of our technological “advances.” Jung was not uniformly appreciative of modern technologies. He saw in many of them a huge ego inflation. Out of this inflation come our disregard for Nature and the belief that undergirds much of modern scientism: that we can run a viable society in contravention of natural laws. So we see manifold ecological disasters—wildfires, global warming with its rising sea levels and melting glaciers, changes in habitat and insect infestations. A corollary of environmental destruction is the passionate intensity of some environmentalists hoping to save the Earth. Their passion reflects the activation of the apocalypse archetype.
Another sign is the breakdown in the social and political structures that we associate with Western civilization. For example, the media mention these days the phenomenon of the “failed state,” referring to nations whose governments are unable to protect their citizens and provide the basics of safety, security, functioning law courts, markets and other essentials. We also hear analysts decry the “rise of the imperial Presidency,” the collapse of our traditional value system, and, most recently, the failure of free-market capitalism to provide jobs, access to credit and a sense of economic security for the citizens of the world.
In terms of physical health, Edward Edinger cites the AIDS epidemic as another sign of the apocalypse archetype. AIDS is a disease of the immune system; the body has, in effect, failed in its ability to defend its own borders. On a physiological level the epidemic mirrors the collective “invasion” of new elements that are harbingers of a new reality. Our collective mental health also shows signs of the activation of the archetype: inflations are endemic, from our belief in America of our “exceptionalism” to the Islamic jihadists’ belief that theirs is the moral code appropriate for everyone worldwide.
Contrary to the jihadists’ oppression of the feminine (which is part of their reaction to what they consider “modernity”), the West has supported a widening of the range of activities and roles open to women in the last century. In this we are slowly “reclaiming” the feminine. In an earlier essay I noted how this is part of the emerging albedo phase of the process of alchemical change. It is also a part of the apocalypse archetype in that it is opening us to radically new ways of thinking, as we will explore in the next essay on the apocatastasis of Western civilization.
Finally, there are numerous indicators of the activation of the apocalypse archetype in cultural phenomena. From UFO sightings (which Jung wrote about at length) to science fiction, from the best-selling “Left Behind” series of books about the end times to the crude sexuality and pornography on cable television, contemporary culture is full of examples indicative of the degradation characteristic of a civilization in its end stages. It is said that art anticipates the future and I was forcefully struck some years ago when I saw the movie version of Tom Clancy’s The Sum of All Fears, which was one of the first mainstream media events to include the explosion of an atomic bomb. Nuclear explosions are one of the most common features of apocalyptic dreams for persons in whom the apocalypse archetype is active. When such explosions begin to appear in the collective consciousness (i.e. in mainstream media) the student of Jung takes note. Clearly, “the world as we have known it is coming to an end.”
Jung on Apocalypticism
Jung could see the end coming but he was not at all an apocalypticist, nor did he appreciate apocalypticism. An apocalypticist is a person who believes the end is near and looks forward to it for the supposed release it will bring to him and his fellow believers. This anticipation for global annihilation might seem bizarre if you are not familiar with this strain of Christian fundamentalism, but it is commonly heard now, especially in America, where fundamentalists are more vocal than in other parts of the world.
Jung recognized that the archetype of the apocalypse exists and is now active in our collective unconscious. He understood that, because it is an archetype, the apocalypse has a certain fascination for us (because of its numinosity). But he objected to apocalypticism—i.e. to the quest or longing for the end—on several grounds.
First, he objected to Christian fundamentalists’ interpretation of the Biblical books (most notably Daniel and Revelation) in literal terms. Jung understood that these books, with their rich symbolism and metaphors, were to be handled rather like dreams: as symbolic accounts. They are not describing literal events that are to occur but are providing us with metaphoric images related to inner psychic states of being.
Second, he recognized that Christian fundamentalists operate with a truncated view of the Divine, i.e. that God is all good and that Satan is a force opposed to God and must be vanquished. Jung saw the Divine as All That Is, meaning that the Divine includes the bad and the good, and an encounter with the Divine is our opportunity to integrate the shadow, so as to enlarge our being and increase our capacity for compassion.
Finally, Jung was appalled at the fundamentalists’ eager anticipation of the destruction of Earth and all the life on it. Jung worked always and tirelessly to heal the world, to foster peace and to reconcile conflict. Toward that end he urged individuals to do their inner work, in the knowledge that all real change—change that transforms reality at a fundamental level—starts with and depends on individuals, you and me. Jung would say to us that, if we want to avert global catastrophe, if we want to seize the opportunity that the archetype of the apocalypse is now holding out to us, we must step up to the plate and do our inner work. Wise up to and integrate our shadow. Recognize our inner partner, the animus or anima. Subordinate the ego to our Divine core, the Self. Only by such individual efforts will we be able to utilize this apocalyptic archetype to turn our civilization into something more supportive of the fullness of our human potential. Just what that more supportive civilization would look like is the subject of the next essay.
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Barker, Joel Arther (1992), Paradigms: The Business of Discovering the Future. New York: Harper Business Books.
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 See “Jung’s Prophetic Visions and the Alchemy of Our Time,” the Jungian Center blog essays for January, February and March 2009.
 Jung, Collected Works, 10, ¶ 190,400 and 589. Hereafter Collected Works is abbreviated as CW.
 CW 11, ¶733; cf. Hannah (1976), 337.
 CW 10, ¶ 457,459,536,537,561,582; CW, ¶599,1378,1380 and 1392; CW 7, ¶240; CW 9i, ¶97; cf. Jung’s Letters, vol. 2, ¶239.
 Edinger (1999), 13-14,182.
 Stevens (2003), 52.
 CW 8, ¶270.
 CW 5, ¶450. Jung acknowledged that he borrowed this term from Jacob Burckhardt; CW 6, ¶624.
 CW 6, ¶624.
 Stevens (1982), 296.
 The “collective unconscious” is what Edward Edinger calls “Jung’s most basic and far-reaching discovery.” Edinger (1992), 3. For an in-depth examination of the archetypes of the collective unconscious, see CW 9i.
 Stevens (2003), 44.
 Puer is Latin for “child.” As an archetype it will generate play, as part of how the child engages the world in the process of learning to function in it.
 Senex is Latin for “old person.” As an archetype it tends to generate mature and responsible behaviors. Puer and senex are examples of archetypes that exist as pairs. Other paired archetypes include “mother” and “father,” “God” and “Satan,” “birth” and “death.”
 CW 9i, ¶85.
 Ibid., ¶91; cf. CW 11, ¶557. Cf. Edinger (1999), 5.
 CW 11, ¶102.
 Ibid., ¶758.
 This is the title of chapter 1 in Edinger (1999), 1-14; see especially page 12.
 O’Connor (1985), 24.
 Edinger (1999), 3.
 CW 9i, ¶154.
 Edinger (1999), 2.
 Ibid., 6 and 39. Cf. the 16 books in the “Left Behind” series by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, listed in the Bibliography below.
 CW 11, ¶557. Edinger was convinced of the importance of our understanding that this archetype has a positive intention: It is meaningful event in our collective history and he wrote Archetype of the Apocalypse to help people understand what is really going on now in our collective life. Edinger (1999), 13-14.
 Edinger (1999), 7.
 Ibid., 122 & 181. For a more in-depth discussion of the calcinatio, see Edinger (1985), 17-46.
 Edinger (1999), 21,22,30,84,101,105,112,122,150,166-168.
 Ibid., 30,136,181. For more on the sublimatio see Edinger (1985), 117-145.
 CW 14, ¶778. On the whole subject of the ego-Self relation, see Jung’s “Aion,” CW 9ii, especially chapters 1,4 and 14.
 Edinger (1999), 10.
 Ibid., 7.
 Ibid., 170-171. See the next Jungian Center blog essay on the theme of the apocatastasis and the form it may take in our collective future.
 Revelation 21:5.
 Edinger (1999), 5.
 The pioneering work on the concept of “paradigm” was done by Kuhn (1962). Kuhn has been less than enthusiastic about how his study has been appropriated (and often misconstrued and misapplied) in many fields beyond the history of science. For an example of the concept applied in the realm of business, see Barker (1992).
 CW 18, ¶598; cf. Mander (1991) for a thought-provoking examination of this loss.
 Edinger (1999), 184-191,203.
 Ibid., 5.
 Ibid., 91.
 Ibid., 144, 174-175.
 Ibid., 174.
 CW 8, ¶366,405,425-427.
 Edinger (1999), 142.
 CW 10, ¶624; CW 11, ¶443,444; CW 13, ¶163.
 “Scientism” is the term for the degraded form of science characterized by reductionism, materialism, objectivism, positivism and mechanistic models. For a more viable image of science, see Griffin (1996).
 Edinger (1999), 7.
 Ibid., 5.
 Foreign Policy and The Fund for Peace compile an annual list of states they deem “failed” based on demographic pressures, refugees and displaced persons, human flight, uneven development, delegitimization of the state, public services, human rights, the security apparatus, factionalized elites and external intervention. Based on these factors, in 2008 they listed the following as “failed states:” Somalia, Sudan, Zimbabwe, Chad, Iraq, Democratic Republic of Congo, Afghanistan, Cote d’Ivoire, Pakistan, Central African Republic, Guinea, Bangladesh, Burma, North Korea, Ethiopia, Uganda, Niger, Nepal, Burundi, and East Timor. Google “failed states” and you will bring up Foreign Policy’s Web site.
 E.g. Bacevich (2008), 68-69,71,77,131.
 Edinger (1999), 128-130.
 See the Jungian Center blog essay for April 2009 for more on American exceptionalism.
 Edinger (1999), 135-136.
 I.e. the three-part essay for January-March 2009.
 Edinger (1999), 5.
 In CW 10, Part V, pp. 307-433.
 The 16 books that make up this series are listed in the Bibliography below; see LaHaye & Jenkins.
 E.g. the cable TV station “Spike,” catering to the young male market segment.
 Edinger (1999), 181.
 This quote is from George Elder in his “Preface” to Edinger (1999), xx. Jung felt a “world catastrophe” was “impending;” Letters, vol. 2, ¶239.
 Ehrman (1999), x,3.
 CW 9ii, ¶77.
 CW 18, ¶1665.
 Edinger (1999), 12.
 CW 9ii, ¶105.
 CW 11, ¶263.
 Even as he lay dying Jung was concerned for the future of the world, as his deathbed vision attests. Hannah (1976), 347.
 Cf. CW 10, ¶329,457,459,537,582,586; and CW 18, ¶559,599,1378,1380; CW 7, ¶240.