Holy Spirit / Ghost 

  As Henri Corbin has proven, the Gnostic-hermetic Hermes figure lived on in Persian mysticism (for instance, Avicenna and Sohraward).  There he is the emissary of the Oriental world, of the world of the sunrise, that is, of inner enlightenment, and he accompanies the visionary in his inner development and realization of the godhead.  In this mystical spot of the rising sun a personal figure takes shape, a figure embodying the visionary’s innermost depths.  Normally this figure appears to men and women only after death, but it can be seen beforehand by the mystic in the state of ecstasy.  It was equated with the Metatron, with the original Anthropos, with the Nous, and with the Holy Ghost and the archangel Gabriel.  It appears to the soul in order to lead it on an inner journey to God and to enlighten it with secret knowledge about God.  This angel symbolizes the individuality of the relation between God and each particular soul and yet is at the same time only the one same figure in all souls.  Here, too, as in the hermetic philosophy, this personification of the Self is the most individual core of the individual person and simultaneously the human self, that is, the self of all humanity.  Becoming conscious of this inner figure means for the soul that it becomes a clear mirror of this image and from that point on proceeds in its company as with an escort.  This image is, as Corbin writes, the principium individuationis, which is individualized “in solitude by the solitary” and which each person sees in the way in which by nature he is fitted to understand it – “Talem vidi qualem capere potui” (I saw him as such, in the way in which I was able to understand him”), as it says in the Acts of Peter. 

   The visionary journey guided by this psychic companion then leads, as Corbin explains, to a continuing and progressive internalization of the whole cosmos and to a gradual transformation of the seer himself into the inner teacher. 

   As to the attitude of consciousness needed to gain insight into this projection, the situation is differently modulated than that of the integration of the shadow and the animus or anima.  In the case of the shadow it is largely a question of humility; in the case of the other two figures it is one an at least partial insight into their individual qualities and simultaneously of a wise “live-and-let-live” attitude toward their overwhelming nature.  When, on the other hand, personifications of the Self begin to appear, the ego is then confronted with the necessity of sacrificing itself; it can never integrate the Self but can only bow before it and try to relate to it in the right way.  That does not mean a total renunciation of one’s own freedom – even before God, man has to reserve the right to a last word, remaining fully conscious, however, that the power he addresses is always the stronger one.  The encounter with the Self means, therefore, a deep and far-reaching change in the conscious attitude.  It is not for nothing that the above-described inner daimon is called, among other names, the “Angel of Metanois”: he brings with him a withdrawal form the play of Maya, of the world’s illusion, an absolute retreat from the world.  No one can accomplish this by simply will it.  It is effected in him by the Self and in many cases takes place only shortly before death.  Only a few thoughtful, reflective people experience it earlier.  Insight into the nature, the essence, of the Self is purchased only at the price of great suffering that wipes out the worldly prejudices and preoccupations of the ego, thereby forcing it into a change of attitude.  Every deep disappointment or disillusionment is, in this sense, a step forward along the way of individuation, if it is accepted with insight and not with resignation or bitterness.

   In the encounter with the Self there emerges a goal that points to the conclusive ending of all projections, namely, to death.  In his Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Jung reports a dream about this: He sees himself walking along a road through a sun-bathed landscape.  He comes to a small roadside chapel and enters it.  Instead of a statue of the Madonna or a crucifix, there is a beautiful flower arrangement on the altar.  Before the altar sits a yogi in the lotus position and in deep meditation.  “When I looked at him more closely, I realized he had my face.  I started in profound fright, and awoke with the thought: ‘Aha, so he is the one who is meditating me.  He has a dream, and I am it.’ I knew that when I awakened, I would no longer be.” 

   The yogi is the same archetypal figure as the inner Hermes-Psychopompos described above, except that here he appears in Far Eastern dress.  The dream points to the fact; as Jung himself also mentions, that there is a meaning here of which those in the East have always been much more conscious than we have: namely, that in the end the whole world is only a projection, a reality “arranged” with mysterious purpose and which, if the Arranger so wills is, can disappear again, to make place for a great awakening to another reality unimaginable by us.  P&R 159