Carl Jung

Feeling the tremendous burden of the past years subside for a moment in the soothing presence of nature, I find myself strolling along a pebbled footpath between a river and a forest.  

As I glance across the stream, I see Carl Jung walking on the other side.  I am instantly reminded how we met like this before several years ago, when he saw me from across another water and called out in French to me: Courage! 

Happy as always for the unconscious to “bring him up”, I smile and warmly wave at him. 

Curiously, I realise instantly that he is in a different frame of mind this time. He seems concerned, rather worried in fact, and I instantly turn to my senses, trying to intuit why that may be.  

“I want you to come back to me and join me over here”, he calls out to me silently. “I want you to come home (to Switzerland)”. 

I smile and try to reassure him, but I am not sure exactly what he means.  

“I will try, Doktor Jung”, I shout out soundlessly across the wide stream, “but I can’t see a way across from where I am”.  

I would love nothing more than to come back to Switzerland, I quietly say to myself, but my life has moved on since then. We both know it is not possible for me to leave everything behind at this particular time and uproot my family. 

Jung’s demeanour remains impatient and disquieted, and I am now starting to realise that it is serious. 

“Find a bridge!”, he urges me from across the water. (Or does he say “build a bridge”?, I now cannot remember).  

“Okay!”, I shout back, feeling rather helpless and unsettled at this point.  

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a wooden overpass emerges across the river not far away from where I am standing, and I start running as fast as my legs will carry me.  

Looking across the stream as I am racing towards the crossing, I can sense that Jung will join me there.  

We get to the bridge only moments later, where we finally meet up halfway.  

Up, close, and personal, we stand there now – the novice poetic psychologist and the veteran analytical psychiatrist. 

A simple artist of the unconscious joining the most seasoned artisan of the soul. 

Without having to say a word, I know that he is asking me to bond with him in some way. 

It is clear to me that I could not possibly deny him this wish after all his imaginal presence, psyche's reflection of our hereditary kinship, has done for me. 

I owe so much to this image of Jung that called on me to continue his work several years ago and that has accompanied me with unrelenting support and unreserved affection ever since. 

It is palpable that day just how close we really are, and always have been, however I am not quite sure yet in that moment how to fully “embrace” him.  


The Green Book is the bridge I built for us, Doktor Jung. 

It is my way of embracing you, so our close bond will always remain –  

Psyche to Psyche, Image to Image, Soul to Soul.  

Where you are will always be my home.