PART 3. THE DIALECTICAL ARCHETYPE
The dialectical archetype contains three private archetypes, or temporal phases: creation, realization, and dissolution (or disembodiment). The archetype (or phase) of creation corresponds to the period of the object’s life or the period of human existence when this object is being created, i.e., it emerges as if from nothing or from outer space. During this time, its main task is merely being defined or manifested, albeit in a playful form.
In the phase of realization, the object fulfills its primary mission, maintains balance with the surrounding environment, and at the same time remains distinctly separated from it by a clear boundary.
In the phase of dissolution, the object disappears, disintegrates, completes its life mission, and the subtleties and details that were visible in the first two phases become clear.
The above description is quite straightforward, and at first glance, the reader may think they already have (or have always had, even before reading this book) a fairly clear understanding of the three phases of development of any object. Such an abstract perception is inevitably primitive, meaning it provides little insight into the processes occurring in the external world and the human psyche. At the same time, the upcoming Aquarian era, which is replacing the Piscean one, will likely pay much more attention to details and subtleties than the previous one and will learn to quantify and discretize where the Piscean era saw continuous transitions.
One of the important examples, from the author’s perspective, is humanity’s and society’s attitude toward temporal modalities. It can be argued that the phase of creation is indeed continuous and gradually transforms into the phase of realization, which in turn continuously transitions into the phase of dissolution. In this case, the very division of the temporal flow into these three phases appears conditional, subjective, and unproductive.
However, if we adopt the Aquarian perspective and assume that, if not in objective reality, then at least subjectively, at any given moment in time, when evaluating themselves or an external situation, a person activates one of the three described modalities, and transitions from one to another occur instantaneously, then we will be forced to view reality—and the psyche in particular—differently. We become more attentive and learn to perceive jumps and transitions with much greater precision than with a continuous perspective.
Whether the earlier idea about the spontaneity of such transitions is justified remains for the reader to judge. But if, following the author’s hypothesis, they attempt to apply this idea, they may discover much that is new and interesting, gaining a powerful tool for exploring and interpreting both their own and others’ behavior, as well as a means of subtle influence over people and situations.
In general, as the author has noted above, the idea that archetypes (and their corresponding modalities) change in the psyche in a discrete manner, instantly giving way to one another, inevitably leads us to the understanding that deep within the human subconscious, in the fundamental programs that manifest in a person’s worldview, their world perception, and the foundation of their archetype within this universal framework, there exist corresponding worldviews, world perceptions, ethics, and even certain general principles of specific behavior. Only a person at a very high level of development is capable of integrating their personality and reconciling the variants of worldview, world perception, ethics, and specific behavior corresponding to these private archetypes.
For this integration to occur, it is necessary to carefully examine how a person behaves in the inner and outer worlds under the influence of each of the private archetypes that constitute this universal one. This requires extensive practical observations—of oneself and one’s reactions to the external world—and the author provides keys to such observations below.
As the reader reviews the descriptions provided by the author, they will naturally relate to one archetype or another, observing their own tendency to use a particular modality. At the same time, they should remember that they are a microcosm, meaning they inherently possess the potential to behave in any situation using any private archetype. If they do not succeed in this, it does not mean they are incapable; more likely, they simply have not paid attention to it or realized these abilities.
Thus, studying archetypes is an important way to expand one’s capabilities—both in perceiving the world and in behavior within it. The above is especially relevant concerning the archetypes of creation, realization, and dissolution. The author hopes to demonstrate this to the reader with a sufficient number of relevant examples.
WORKING WITH THE ARCHETYPE OF CREATION
Probably, the main motto of the archetype of creation is: “Miracle is the norm of life.” Here, the object emerges or materializes as if from nowhere, or the surrounding environment unexpectedly condenses around it, and from it, as if by magic, various elements of this object, its details, accessories, or simply circumstances that simplify its life and protect it from all kinds of changes and adversities appear.
This is how a child in a prosperous family feels, growing without a care, with their needs met as they arise, and not having to ask for the same thing multiple times. The phase of creation is somewhat like the horn of plenty. There is no balance between the object and its environment: it receives much more from it than it gives back, and it perceives this as a perfectly normal state of affairs.
A person under the strong influence of the archetype of creation often feels as if they are at the center of the surrounding environment, which loves and favors them, and they feel quite comfortable and cozy in this position. Of course, it is possible that the environment grows tired of them, gives them something other than what they need, and then they act out or complain—but the thought that they might have to pay for what they receive never crosses their mind.
If they need something but do not receive it, they try to do without it, not particularly exerting themselves to consider what efforts could be made to obtain what they desire. They may hint, ask, but upon not getting what they want, they shift their attention and become absorbed in something else.
A characteristic state of the phase of creation is play, as opposed to work in the phase of realization, and learning, again in contrast to skilled work in the phase of realization. In the phase of creation, the new is grasped, which may require significant effort from the person but does not entail substantial responsibility for what is happening in the present. It is impossible to say which specific skills acquired in the phase of creation will be needed in the phase of realization, nor does the person set this as a goal.
Words such as “luck,” “fortune,” and “happiness” are often used to describe the phase of creation. In this phase, the object is as if open to input, meaning its boundaries with the surrounding environment are semi-permeable. It is protected by the environment more than reliably, so little or nothing threatens it, and what it needs—what is fruitful and necessary for its development—flows to it without restriction.
The question remains: how will it make use of this? In the phase of creation, a person takes long-term loans without a clear idea of when or how they will be repaid; they are presented with joyful and attractive prospects of a distant future for which they are just beginning to work. The future may give them large advances, for which payment will be due much later, and they do not think much about it. Here, many things are overlooked; the future tempts but never threatens. Even if a tragic plot unfolds in the phase of creation, it is perceived by the person as extraordinarily captivating and attractive, at least interesting and worth experiencing.
And finally, the last but by no means least significant sign of the archetype of creation’s activity is the condensation of the object, when it, becoming dense, definite, weighty, and significant—having absorbed energy and matter from the surrounding environment—remains in a whirl mode, still not functioning. At the barbaric level of processing the archetype of creation, a person treats the energies, information, gifts, and credits he receives with extreme frivolity; he believes it will always be so, and the flow of grace at the center of which he finds himself will never end. For example, upon receiving an advance for construction, he may not attempt to start building anything or even create a model of the house he intends to live in. If a teacher is invited to him, he does not strive to listen carefully to the words and sounds of a foreign language, let alone try to speak even a few words or sentences in it. He lets everything go in one ear and out the other, choosing only what amuses him at the moment, and recklessly squanders everything he receives without considering that it might harm the surrounding environment, let alone thinking about the time when he will have to work to implement the projects for which he now receives advances. At the barbaric level of processing the archetype of creation, a person exhibits an unnatural egoism. He feels so much like the center of universal attention and universal grace that it never occurs to him that the people and circumstances around him are expending their energy on him and that he owes them at least something in return. To shift him from the phase of creation to any other phaseIt appears absolutely impossible. Meanwhile, if he behaves in a completely insolent manner, he is gently reproached, and the argument he resorts to is often an infantile reference: “How could you eat all the sweets that were in the house?” the mother says reproachfully to her child, who, by chance ending up in the kitchen, ate not only the apple pie meant for the evening but also the candies that caught his attention. “You understand, it tasted so good, it was so delicious that I forgot about everything in the world,” the fourteen-year-old boy justifies himself, already almost as tall as his father. “But why didn’t you think about your brother and sister, let alone your grandmother?” his mother asks in bewilderment, appealing to the modality of realization in which her son now finds himself. And indeed, having changed modalities, he no longer understands how he could have acted so carelessly and selfishly. The problem in this case is that his self-awareness in the modality of creation is still quite infantile, while in the modality of realization it fully corresponds to his age. However, neither he nor his mother finds it easy to grasp this. At the barbaric level, a person is not inclined to share his horn of plenty, his state of creation. He may be in a wonderful mood,He will joyfully absorb something, eagerly learn about something that requires no effort but interests him, yet he will not share it with others. Turning on the TV and seeing his favorite comedian on the screen, he will not clap his hands or shout across the house, “Hurry, come see what’s on!” He watches the TV in silence, completely immersed in the spectacle, forgetting about the rest of the world. At the barbaric level, a person also avoids any tension and any thought that the modality might change—that what he is doing could have consequences and perhaps even distant ones affecting other people and other situations. In other words, his stance is: “I live here and now, and I’m fine,” and this position is extremely stable—he has no desire to change it. This means that at the barbaric level of the archetype, a person’s work is always accompanied by a good mood. It may be bad, he may be eternally dissatisfied, he may constantly expect new and greater troubles, but in any case, his attention is focused on himself, on the immediate future, and his thoughts do not extend much further. The same applies to his creative impulse, which can be very active at the barbaric level of processing the archetype. Here, creativity usually consists of expressing his “self” and amusing himself with the help of others—or, if not, ignoring the extent to which he affects their interests. “I’m going to bake a pie today,” declares the little barbarian to his parents, “I need eggs, butter, flour, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, and almonds.” All of this is carefully purchased and brought to the kitchen, after which the child begins beating the eggs with a mixer, carelessly splattering the contents of the eggshells across his face, the table, the walls, and the ceiling. Soon his enthusiasm wanes, and it is his mother or older sister who cleans up the kitchen and finishes baking the pie to completion. However, the child is not in the least upset—by that time, he is already playing with his new wind-up toy train, running it across the polished grand piano and approaching his father’s desk. Learning at the barbaric level of processing the archetype of creation consists of the consistent profanation of any content and the person’s avoidance of any effort related to perceiving new ideas or skills or mastering them. Any ideas about these skills being useful at some point do not enter his mind or are carefully rejected by his subconscious. The horizons here are boundless, the possibilities endless; the only thing left is to joyfully accept whatever gifts happen to fall into one’s lap.
At the amateur level of processing the archetype, creation is perceived soberly and with some foresight. A person understands, first, that the phase of creation may at some point give way to another phase, and, second, that the gifts received under the archetype of creation are not given to a person for his personal free use but are intended so that he may later pass through other phases, which he senses dimly. At the amateur level, a person often no longer feels himself the sole focus or center of the situation but begins to sense certain boundaries of his space—internal and external—within which the archetype of creation is currently operating, and he learns to interact with other people who find themselves nearby and are in the same phase. He understands them, but his understanding of people in the phases of realization and dissolution is more than conditional. Generally, he feels most comfortable with other favorites of fortune, playing various games with them, vaguely sensing their rules, and where possible trying to follow them. Overall, this resembles children playing in a sandbox: these games are safe, but for them to be more meaningful, children agree on certain rules, following which they limit their chaotic impulses and, on a safe example, begin to master (very approximately and distantly) a model of life in the real, big world. Children in the sandbox learn to take turns speaking, follow the simplest rules of the game, pay attention to the words of those older, in some ways submit to them, and in some ways display their own initiative in situations where it is needed. If a child at the barbaric level of processing the phase of creation enters the sandbox and begins flinging sand in all directions with his shovel, trying to hit those around him in the eyes, then at the amateur level he will make neat little piles, dig a hole for a future treasure, and then search for it together with his friend.
At the amateur level, a person begins to perceive what is happening to him as a certain stroke of luck or good fortune and understands that other people, for reasons unknown to him, find themselves in other situations where luck and good fortune are much less abundant—or sometimes entirely absent—and where every gift from fate must be paid for, sometimes even earned through great effort. Seeing this, a person better appreciates the opportunities that fate provides him; in particular, he learns much better and more effectively. There is still no complete and absolute perception of all learning situations here, but at least, as they say, he takes it to heart and is capable of making some effort so that the learning does not go to waste. He understands that after some time, his skills will be tested, and he will have to apply them in different conditions. Furthermore, at the amateur level, a person perceives what is happening as an advance—that is, he understands that someday he will have to pay for it—and he values what he receives, trying not to squander it but to use it somehow, keeping in mind his future life. It is not that he can concretely say how his life will unfold, but he already senses its general contours and the continuation of that karmic program that is declared and manifested in the phase of creation.
Here, the prospects do not seem as bright and cloudless, but the person still views the world as a source of creativity and is inclined toward creativity himself. His creativity here is already more constructive and purposeful than at the barbaric level, though still far from professional. If he writes poetry, it is usually occasional verse, for example, birthday poems for family members. At the barbaric level, this would be offensive jibes of one or two lines. Here, a person’s creativity is amateurish or dilettantish in nature and mainly pleases him and his loved ones, though it does not hold substantial interest for a wide audience; however, this interest could be achieved if the person, continuing to develop this creative theme, moves into the phase of realization and elaborates his gift more thoroughly.
At the professional level of processing the archetype of creation, it no longer resembles a game in any way, though external signs of play—such as non-obligation, spontaneity, and an unpredictable creative impulse—are often still present. However, while in a creative state, accepting the gifts, ideas, information, and matter falling upon him from all sides, a person constantly keeps in mind their future use. He is much more demanding and capricious, but these qualities are not the result of frivolity—instead, they stem from his gaze directed far into the future, when the phase of creation will give way to the phase of realization and then dissolution. In other words, while in the process of creating an object, a person is simultaneously creating the entire narrative of its existence, though of course he does not see it in all its details. At the professional level of processing the archetype of creation, a person pays special attention to learning. He knows that this is precisely the time when he has the opportunity to learn and, in protected, sheltered conditions, conduct experiments that cost him nothing or almost nothing now but will later form the foundation for serious and responsible endeavors when there will be no protective guidance, no firm hand of a teacher to correct his mistakes, and everything will depend solely on him.
This does not mean that at the professional level a person loses his optimism and cheerfulness—he simply loses the global irresponsibility characteristic of the barbaric and, to a large extent, the amateur level.He retains only localized irresponsibility and localized frivolity, which are little more than the core content of his behavior, while the backdrop is now set by other, more serious and wiser phases—creation and dissolution. However, it cannot be said that at the professional level, the phases of creation lack wisdom. Perhaps there is even more wisdom than he himself realizes. At this level, he possesses the gift of prophecy and is capable of seeing the continuation of narratives that begin far more clearly than he sometimes believes; at the very least, his intuition guides him abundantly—not only in the form of direct clairvoyance or prophecy but also in the form of concrete skills he acquires without knowing why, though they prove essential for the subsequent phases of the object’s development.
At the professional level, a person pays great attention not only to what is happening but also to the ethics of the new reality unfolding before them. In other words, he understands that he is not merely entering a new life or a new narrative that reveals its face to him—he also gains the opportunity to grasp the laws of existence governing this new reality. Their ethics are not revealed to him in the strict form they will take during the phase of fulfillment; for example, his relationship with the environment here is far more lenient, appearing more like a forgiving mother who overlooks almost everything her child does—but still, he receives his first impression of the fundamental laws of life in this new reality and learns to be attentive to them.
WORKING THROUGH THE ARCHETYPE OF FULFILLMENT
If the phase of creation can, in many ways, be compared to childhood, then the phase of fulfillment is adult life. Here, as they say, everything is already clear—or at least mostly so. The structure and functions of the object are defined, its relationship with the external world is established, its boundaries are delineated, and the type of interaction with the environment is determined. Specifically, the object exists in balance with its surroundings, taking from it the necessary resources for its existence and work and returning to it the results of its labor (or a portion of them) as repayment for what it has received.
At this stage, the object’s karmic task is fully comprehensible (perhaps even too clear, since during the phase of dissolution it is significantly adjusted and understood quite differently). However, at this level, many circumstances that were merely hints during the phase of creation are clarified, their meaning transforms, and everything falls into place.
In other words, during the phase of fulfillment, the framework—or the primary structure—of the object’s karma becomes clear, and this karma is largely realized, meaning it is fulfilled. If the phase of creation can be illustrated by a pre-election campaign, where a presidential candidate makes promises and gathers funds, then the phase of fulfillment is his actual work for the state, his interactions with political parties, collaboration with ministers, and so on.
During the phase of fulfillment, it becomes evident how well a person has learned and the reckoning—at least the primary reckoning—for the obligations they took upon themselves during the phase of creation. The motto of this phase is simple: “I work.” It is characterized by a high degree of certainty, sometimes even excessive rigidity—meaning the person knows all too well what they should and should not do, what falls within their sphere of attention and what lies beyond it.
Additionally, the phase of fulfillment is marked by the stability of life programs, narratives, a tendency toward ritualization, and an unwillingness or inability to change. Change is characteristic of the other two phases—creation and dissolution.
At the barbaric level of working through the archetype of fulfillment, a person is primarily distinguished by an extremely narrow consciousness. They acknowledge nothing beyond the narrative that has entered their life and, in their view, fully occupies it. Everything that came before is insignificant; nothing meaningful will come afterward. This is the psychology of a puppet, performing the same script under the strings of a puppeteer, oblivious to the performance’s end.
At the barbaric level, the person does not so much feel responsibility for the narrative in which they exist and which they enact but rather parasitizes on it. In other words, while recognizing the importance and inherent responsibility of the narrative itself, this person allows themselves to feed off its energy, knowing that the narrative is exceptionally stable. Spring will give way to summer, which will transition to autumn, followed by winter, and no matter how they behave, the rhythm and repetition of this narrative will remain unaffected. Theft or even grand larceny committed against an object in the phase of fulfillment will not significantly alter its narrative.
Just as officials, relying on the stability of the state order, take bribes without considering how they undermine the strength and efficiency of the state machine, or as a king plunges his country into yet another war, confident in his hardworking people who will quickly restore the ruined economy and the grandeur of his kingdom after it ends, so too does a person—completely unaware of the possible consequences but trusting in the stability of natural rhythms—intervene at the level of genes, drastically increasing radiation levels on the planet and doing much else, such as building a technogenic civilization without integrating it into the biocenosis.
At the barbaric level of the fulfillment phase, there is contempt and complete incomprehension of the other two temporal phases. Thus, the life of another person—someone in the phase of creation, who receives far more than they give (if they give anything at all)—provokes irritation, contempt, anger, or helpless black envy in the person of fulfillment. That is why, for reasons unclear to them, they are constantly lucky and successful—though, undoubtedly, this will one day end, and it will end disastrously, in total collapse. This is the position of the ant who lectures the grasshopper in the well-known fable.
At this level, the person in the fulfillment phase also regards the phase of dissolution with extreme skepticism, perceiving it as a lower, helpless, and ineffective version of the fulfillment phase.
At the amateur level, the person in the fulfillment phase is a diligent and conscientious worker, a skilled craftsman who knows the value of their services and the quality of the materials provided by their environment. They can be conditionally called a craftsman, a qualified artisan. They are an executor for whom the creative principle is something insignificant, even somewhat harmful. They are devoted to a certain ritual in which no significant innovations are permitted, and creativity manifests only in minor variations that distinguish one of their products from another—though overall, they are as alike as two drops of water. What interests them is not the diversity of what they do but the maintenance of the primary rhythm in their stable and balanced narrative, balanced in terms of their relationship with the environment. They take what they need and give back to the environment what it requires. This is the deep self-expression of a mid-level professional who has found their place in life and clings to it.
This person is also limited in consciousness; in particular, they are not inclined to be distracted by anything outside the direct scope of their duties and work. They understand, acknowledge, and strive to adhere to the ethics of their work, their behavior within their environment, and their relationships with colleagues. They know that nothing is free, that any endeavor requires serious, focused effort, and that relationships with people are better built on a long-term and reliable foundation than on short-term, albeit profitable, gains.
Here, there is no fanatical intolerance or complete incomprehension of the other phases. At this level, the person understands that, in principle, there is a phase of creation, when the object is still only preparing, when great care is needed for it to begin functioning—but this phase seems to them difficult, poorly comprehensible, and altogether foreign.As for the dissolution phase, he understands that the object he is engaged with or the process in which he participates will eventually come to an end, become ineffective, and will need to be wrapped up with conclusions drawn from what has occurred. However, this seems to him a distant future, which he should generally consider but finds uninteresting. There is no contempt typical of the barbarian level, nor is there particular respect for the dissolution phase—it is seen more as a necessary but unpleasant end to the main action, which holds the greatest interest for the person.
For example, a housewife is occupied with daily routine work, household chores, cooking, and raising children, and this work is extremely interesting to her. The small daily changes are quite sufficient for her, and she has no desire to think about the time when her children grow up and her domestic work will no longer be her life, forcing her to reflect on it. She consciously and subconsciously pushes this prospect as far away as possible.
At the professional level, the archetype of fulfillment is expressed in how a person approaches their work with extraordinary attention and thoroughness. This is a top-tier worker, a professional without whom no serious project can be completed. Typically, such a person places great importance on both the creation phase of an object and its dissolution phase, carefully observing the former (even if not directly participating in it) and meticulously preparing for the latter. He knows that the quality of his work and what he leaves unfinished will affect others, and the very process of dissolution, the dissolution of the object, the end of the narrative in which he participates, will be disharmonious and painful.
At the professional level, a person clearly knows, as well as intuitively feels, the boundaries of their competence. Their motto is: “It must be done well or not at all.” If offered a task, he either immediately or after studying the proposed project decides whether he can handle it. Moreover, he may refuse for two reasons, each of which is significant enough for him to reject the offer. The first is that he lacks the qualifications and needs time to learn, meaning transitioning from the fulfillment phase to the creation phase. The second is that the task is doomed to failure or cannot be completed at the level he considers appropriate, in which case he will also decline. His assessments in this regard are often quite accurate. If asked a question on a topic where he is incompetent, he will refuse to answer, unlike an amateur who tends to express opinions and give advice on matters they barely understand.
The difference between an amateur and a professional at the fulfillment level is illustrated by the contrasting approaches of an ordinary doctor and a highly skilled physician toward their patient. A conventional doctor, upon encountering a patient, attempts to diagnose based on their understanding of possible illnesses, then prescribes treatment without certainty of its outcome but hoping for the best. A high-level professional doctor, first and foremost, focuses more on the patient than on the preconceived list of diseases. Secondly, they have a much deeper understanding of the nature and course of the illness and either refuse the patient or prescribe treatment with a confident prognosis of its effectiveness.
At the professional level, ritualization of the process occurs to the extent that it is convenient for the person. However, if circumstances require stepping outside the ritual, the person is capable of doing so and taking actions that do not fit within it. Yet, he considers this undesirable and strives to return to the optimal ritual for his activities as quickly as possible. At the same time, he understands that extraordinary events and circumstances are possible and acknowledges the influence of the creation and dissolution phases on his work, though these do not hold the greatest interest for him.
PROCESSING THE ARCHETYPE OF DISSOLUTION
In contrast to creation, the main pathos of the dissolution phase is sacrifice. The object is destroyed, and forces cannot stop this process. The object functions worse, its balance with the environment is disrupted, which becomes harsher, more aggressive, even cruel toward it, tearing it apart—not content with merely consuming its production by inertia but also seizing its energy and materials. Here, the object breaks down, its activities wind down, unfinished tasks from the fulfillment phase are completed, final debts are settled, and ultimately, the object disappears, its particles merging with the environment and being assimilated by it.
In the dissolution phase, subtleties and karma become visible. What was initially intended, what emerged as the core structure when the object entered the fulfillment phase, is now reassessed, and the true purpose of the object and the final outcomes of its existence become clear. Often, the meaning of the object’s existence in the dissolution phase differs radically from its purpose during the fulfillment phase. There, the focus was primarily on its direct function, and its karma lay in the same. Here, the meaning is not so much in the work itself as in the disintegration of the object and the completion of what was not even considered during the fulfillment phase. Deep conclusions are drawn here, subtleties are revealed that are invisible during the peak of clear, purposeful work in the fulfillment phase, and these subtleties often have an indirect nature—it is unclear where and how they will be needed.
In this phase, teaching occurs, meaning the sharing of knowledge with others; thus, the dissolution phase is complementary to the creation phase. If a student is present in the creation phase, a teacher is present in the dissolution phase. This does not mean that the person physically perishes in the dissolution phase (though moral destruction in the struggle with a student is a common phenomenon in academic circles), but rather that the informational-energetic “costume” the teacher has donned in the process of preparation is destroyed. As this costume collapses on the teacher, it transfers to the students, becoming part of their “wardrobe,” that is, new knowledge, skills, and abilities.
It is incorrect to perceive the dissolution phase as tragic, just as it is incorrect to view the creation phase as purely optimistic—creation can involve a very difficult and unpleasant program for a person, and dissolution can free a person from it, opening the way for new narratives, new activities, and a new life.
The theme of purification is itself governed by the archetype of dissolution: purification is nothing more than the dissolution of slag, the removal from the organism of what is no longer needed, what hinders its normal functioning. From the organism’s perspective, slag is expelled, parasites are destroyed, and the organism itself benefits from this. The same applies on a psychological level to the disappearance from a person’s life of problems, attitudes, and narratives that have been outgrown, that are no longer interesting or useful, and that hinder their life—departing from them with relief and satisfaction.
The dissolution phase is characterized by the refinement of energy, the thinning of the object, the reduction of its mass, and its transition into a different, more subtle quality. This embodies the pathos of self-destruction, where the object ceases to exist in its current form but finds new being on a subtle plane, clarifying the higher meaning of its existence and life program as a whole. Often, this involves the integration of its narrative, transcending temporal boundaries, and ascending into the realm of archetypes.
At the barbarian level of processing the archetype of dissolution, a person tends to “chop first and ask questions later.” Sensing that an object or its part is in the dissolution phase, the person begins to destroy it brutally, giving no thought to what the object has done in the past, what work should have been completed, what the object itself experiences when denied the chance to fulfill its mission, or to the environment, which, as part of the whole, becomes a source of poisoning.Besides, at the barbaric level of the dissolution phase, predation and parasitism are characteristic, when an object that has not yet fulfilled its mission, has not completed its work, is destroyed for the sake of some valuable part of it, while everything else is discarded as waste—this is the psychology of a poacher or humanity that does not spare resources, which may be far more essential to the Earth itself than we currently realize. Perhaps the use of minerals in the manner accepted in the 20th century will be perceived by our descendants in a hundred or two hundred years in much the same way we now view gladiatorial battles, or even as a far greater barbarism.
Another characteristic trait of the barbaric level of the dissolution phase is the contemptuous attitude toward the phases of realization and especially creation, imposing on them the modality of destruction and its mood, which is absolutely destructive for both of these phases. The ethics, logic, and mood of the dissolution phase are peculiar. In a sense, they are esoteric both in relation to the phase of realization and the phase of creation, but a person at the barbaric level does not understand this at all. “Why try if we’ll all end up there anyway?”—this is their logic, and it is difficult to seriously counter it, for it is indeed true.
However, the cyclical nature of all processes implies both the alternation of phases and, after an object finds itself there, its reincarnation and the resumption of its life mission. Yet this reasoning, remaining within the modality of dissolution, does not resonate and is also doomed to destruction in the eyes of a person at the dissolution phase. At the barbaric level, they are a natural and professional pessimist and can drag down with themselves anything that falls into their hands.
At the amateur level, a person in the dissolution phase is no longer inclined to act so crudely. They understand that, first, an object in the dissolution phase also has a certain fate, meaning a certain plot of dissolution that has its own phases, and these should not be confused with one another. Besides, they realize that something must be done during the dissolution phase, and they engage in it with great interest, sometimes not very skillfully, but feeling a quite healthy and constructive enthusiasm. They have a reason to work, they feel sorry for the object, they help it fulfill its mission, and they care for the environment that must assimilate its remains so that they benefit it rather than harm it.
Regarding their inner world, such a person adheres to the view that the main thing is timely purification, and that before acquiring a new quality, one must clear space for it, in particular, eliminate their karmic tails, restructure or clear the subconscious program that corresponds to their current level and hinders further development. In other words, they are not inclined to “cut off their own head” upon discovering some negativity in themselves but tend rather to localize it and seek instrumental means to eliminate it, though they do not yet succeed very well. They work roughly, often tearing out living and functional parts of the organism along with the decaying tissues.
