Weight and Size

When speaking of mind, we often use the categories of “dimensions” — we speak of the breadth and depth of mind, we speak of “weight” of the soul, and although it seems perfectly clear that these terms are not meant literally, the meaning behind them in this context can remain elusive.

Mind, the Psychocosmos, is as infinite and immeasurable as the macrocosm, and the soul is as weightless as light; yet we make use of terms denoting the measurability of the immeasurable and attempt to define the undefined. To justify this approach, we must remember that the Myth we are considering speaks of two states of reality — the potential and the actual — and of the Absolute Spirit that stands “behind” and “above” them, which is beyond notions of being and non-being, beyond time and eternity, beyond space and infinity.

It is clear, however, what is measurable is what is concrete and manifest. Thus, when we speak of the “breadth” or the “depth” of mind, we do not mean a description of its existence as such, but the degree and manner of its actual manifestation. For example, the breadth of mind denotes the quantitative aspect of the energies it perceives, while by the depth of mind we mean how deeply it grasps the patterns of interaction among those energies. In the same way, the Myth calls thoughts and feelings “light” when they have the closest manifestations to the individual’s mind, whereas those formed under the influence of factors alien to that individuality are regarded as “heavy.”

In practice such a description, despite its relativity and conventionality, proves very useful because it allows us to avoid morally charged categories of “good” and “evil” when describing the development and manifestation of mind.

Nevertheless, it conceals a certain pitfall, creating the illusion of a single possible “evolutionary” way as a constant, gradual change only in quantitative terms, and diverting attention from the need for periodic qualitative reorganizations of the mind.

When we speak of mind as such, apart from the degree of its manifestation, we must understand that with equal validity we may regard it as “infinitely large” or as “infinitely small,” since in its pure nature, mind lies beyond manifestation — beyond awareness. The Absolute mind is utterly unconscious, and in striving for an infinite “expansion” of mind — that is, in reasoning about development only from a “positive” point of view — we lose sight of, and thus cast into shadow, the opposite pole: integration, the loosening of the mind’s concreteness. Conversely, treating the opposite as merely the “calming,” the “extinction” of mind is also unbalanced, because it deprives the mind of the freedom to manifest, constraining it in its potential state.

The Magus, seeking to actualize his individuality in the form and personality most appropriate to that individuality, must not forget that individuality itself is elusive and indeterminate; it lies beyond concepts of manifestation and action, serving only as a way in which the Absolute perceives itself. And just as the Absolute alternates manifestation with withdrawal into itself, the Magus must alternate his periods of activity — his work, as the necessary and positive pole — with self-analysis and inner reflection for the integration of accumulated experience.

The Magus must not regard his development as merely “expansion and deepening,” but understand that true development takes place beyond notions of measure and size; it can equally be seen as the actualization of potentials and the increasing potentiality of the actual. By realizing himself through action, the Magus does not lose his inward focus; otherwise, he risks losing his balance and falling into empty activity, and when withdrawing into himself, he does not forget the need for self-knowledge in action; otherwise, he loses the meaning of his individuality.