The Symbolic World | A Lecture by Jonathan Pageau

The Symbolic World | A Lecture by Jonathan Pageau

Our friend @Jonathan Pageau gave a lecture 

on the conceptual structure of Genesis 

for an event that was orchestrated 

by the Montreal Jung Society. 

Jordan felt that this lecture would serve 

as a wonderful adjunct to his biblical series, 

also on Genesis, featured on this channel. 

Thank you to the Montreal Jung Society 

and Jonathan for letting us release 

this video on our channel. 

We hope that you find it useful. 

Visit sites.google.com/site/cgjungmontreal 

for more info on the Montreal Jung Society.

Event Title: The Symbolic World - 

A Lecture by Jonathan Pageau

Event Description : 

“Meaning is showing itself 

to no longer be an overlay 

to an arbitrary world 

of phenomena, 

but rather the very 

Pattern of Reality.

 

Through the questions 

of emergence, 

attention and 

consciousness which have 

been permeating so many fields 

in the recent past, 

the reality of pattern, 

ritual and image 

have also come to the fore. 

Meaning is showing itself, 

in a burgeoning post-secular age, 

as no longer only a subjective overlay 

to an arbitrary world of phenomena, 

but rather the very pattern 

of Reality Itself. 

In this frame we come to realise 

that The Archetypal Truths are

 not mostly biological and mental 

constructs in humans; they are firstly 

the inescapable patterning 

of the indefinite potential 

of The World as it encounters 

Intelligence.” 

King Henry IX

"If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre."

Sonnet XVII

Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies:
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
So should my papers yellow'd with their age
Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme.

Sonnet LV

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lover's eyes.

Sonnet LXXXI

Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen--
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.

Sonnet XX

A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling,
Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.

Sonnet III

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime:
So thou through windows of thine age shall see
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remember'd not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

LORD POLONIUS

[Pointing to his head and shoulder]
Take this from this, if this be otherwise:
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.

Sonnet LXXVI

Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.