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The translations transform from full plays to summaries, not due to a lack of effort on Waley’s part but rather the increasing complexities of finding the right tone, especially when much of the emotional impact comes from the barely describe dances. Even the Kyōgen expresses a type of satire so removed from the witticisms and wackiness of English stage comedies: Kiyoyori escapes Hell by being simple and friendly.

The subject matter changes from warrior histories to more personal, often tragic, romances steeped in Japan’s rich literary legacy. Komachi is a piece of work, both the prickly character and the pathos of her possession by Shii no Shōshō. ‘Aoi no Uye’ keeps pace with my progress through The Tale of Genji. And ‘Hagoromo’ shows a mysterious dance to defy Whaley’s attempts to translate in English.

The parting gift from Nina is the presence of another mischievous girl Sofia and a new role for the refined former Count to manage childcare while the Revolution takes a more drastic turn from Lenin to Stalin. Surprisingly, much of the history gets glossed over in a few paragraphs, fitting for someone trapped inside the Soviet Union capitol, nothing really changes for him. Or maybe everything will due to an accident.

After a lengthy and informative introduction, where the author Waley pulls quotes by the armful from Zeami’s musing on how a folksy Sarugaku transformed into the more austere Noh theatre, we get a handful of plays. The first set is a lamentation for fallen Taira, the next set celebrates the prowess of those on the winning side. Very much a Buddhist meditation on the wheel of fortune reiterated by actors and chorus.

The Count steps back from the brink and accepts his new station in life, as a staff member inside the Metropol, making use of an obscure talent for seating arrangements. While things seem settled on the inside, Moscow and the Soviet Union continue to turn upside down as a result of one of the earlier revolutions and the years become decades in a few pages. Something is up with Nina, a curious girl gone all officious.

Fascinating and fleeting depiction of the old way of courtly life in Heian Japan. Genji is witty, free-willed dummy whose actions would not jive with the MeToo movement of the present day yet become a source of poetry and self-reflection of a very different era. Most chapters end up being nicknames for his conquests and most troubling is the little lady with the same name as the author, insinuating far ickier issues.

Reinforcing his thesis that we are the universe at play with more examples from science as opposed to mysticism, Watts takes the prickly route of rationalism to get at the gooey wholeness of such a game. It works, but perhaps I was primed from birth, a few months after Watts died, to find myself one of the “billions points of view” (p. 130) coming into “I” experience just as he reached the trough of his wave.

His wry attitude from countless YouTube clip-art speeches rings throughout the pages, where life and the universe are treated like a game where the rules have gone missing. Watts does not proclaim to have all the answers, but bases his observations on a wide range of sources: ancient spiritual texts, limericks and blankets made only in Oaxaca, all proving that ego is a hoax and each “I” a branch of the same tree.

The student papers, some of which are not extant but fondly recalled by Professor Jung and the participants, offer an initial analysis of these dreams which get a full interpretation from Herr Professor. Many of the points touched upon are like a highlight reel of depth psychology as it was being formed, and even the still-emergent synchronicity is casually dropped into the conversation as if it were already a given.

Big mistake blowing up the Sacred Island at the end of Part Two, as the remainder of this book promotes the wonders of Rovelli’s preferred interpretation and dismisses many more, and yet repeatedly concludes with Shakespeare’s mystic sorcerer and mention of Goethe’s Weltgeist. Pick a lane there, Carlo: either the quantum world is one of known formulae or else awe comes “fast as mill-wheels strike.”

Ending the exploration of the enneagram in the fear corner makes a lot of sense, as the whole book (according to the Afterword) is written as a guide to the lifelong journey that brings us back to who we are. Fear, gluttony and avarice are presented as passions that have more to do with what is lacking inside than each is about acquiring external objects, and achieving any virtue comes down to letting go of our type.

A mysterious middle section where many of the main characters linger in the background, or disappear completely, so that the spotlight is on the widower Paul and his wooing of Edith. Also included are the secondary plots of Major Bagstook (who might as well be renamed Monty Python) and the sharkish Mr. Carker, who each hint at ulterior motives toward Mrs. Skewton and her ward regardless of the Dombey’s spouse hunt.

The Image Corner contains some of the most problematic types as they are projections of what we want or want to avoid, and thus making it hard to tell what is really happening with one’s Self. Learning about Two’s pride gave me the hope that each of us is not bound completely to such passions, and being identified as a Four, would not find my situation enviable. And yet, an Internet test revealed I might be Five!

The tale of the shut-in Count at the Hotel Metropol give him a few moments of old world respite, mainly through flashbacks and classic literature. A Christmas Carol provides a glimpse of his other means of escape which come all too soon in the next couple of chapters. And still two thirds of the novel to go that might happen with a wised-up Rostov or without him. Wonder who will take up the narrative reigns?

A fascinating understanding of the archetypal urges that keep us asleep, here called the passions, and the self-awareness that comes with virtues intricately connected to others. The top three ennea-types have direct correlations to Freud’s tripartite psyche, even with apologies from Maitri about his out-of-date approach, but my heart point in anger in favour of Jung should seek serenity with this oh-so-Five Freud.

Starting off with the island in the North Sea, Rovelli uncovers his brief history of quantum theory, with more brevity than his Seven Brief Lessons, before addressing the not-quite-there interpretations in favour of his relational one. He manages somehow to find places for the personalities behind each main theorist as if they were characters in “a play of mirrors that exist only as reflections” (p. 88).

To be a student again, when I should be taking inspiration from Professor Jung and lecturing by way of very informed dialogues. Here he instructs psychology students using a quaternal structure for dreams. The first few students to present selected case study dreams hold a great fascination for proving the images dreamt have some connection to the libido, as if all the PG content might aiming at PG-13 coming of age.

A single page for Pauli, a couple quotes from Jung and a fuzzy picture of Bohm’s implicate order. Not quite the science I expected when buying this book (and peeking at the index for Nelson-Isaacs’ next book, there is even less of what I want). He makes some clever comparisons between virtual world design and his “retroactive event determination” but still feels like he is only skimming the self-help surface.

The author goes all-in with his description of flow and synchronicity, but I found something a bit unscientific about his apple tree metaphor, more than just the biological curiosity of apples and pears growing on different branches of the same tree. He views the fruit of our decision-making through the perspective of a worm crawling along the branch rather than a holistic tree view from the ground or atop a ladder.

The author goes all-in with his description of flow and synchronicity, but I found something a bit unscientific about his apple tree metaphor, more than just the biological curiosity of apples and pears growing on different branches of the same tree. He views the fruit of our decision-making through the perspective of a worm crawling along the branch rather than a holistic tree view from the ground or atop a ladder.

Circling back to Jung’s hypothesis that started von Franz on her inquiry into the archetypal structure of number leads us to the crowning discovery of their careers: synchronicity and its relationship to divining the “right” time. Many examples from diverse cultures and millennia point to the uncertain answer that we still don’t know what or why, but hearing other people work through this mystery has meaning.

A dream-come-true book and not just for allowing me to find another author with a less unwieldy name to associate eponymously to the state of flow (sorry Cheek-sent-me-high). In this self-help book, Nelson-Isaacs connects flow to synchronicity, revealing the authentic Self that come from working towards a goal. He also includes plenty of personal stories of apple-gathering for the befuddled dad and grateful graduate.

A novel that accurately captures what 2020 came to feel like while being a tale of an ignobled Count stuck inside a Moscow hotel in 1922, it previews what life might be like for those of us surviving the current peril. Small corners of old-world refinement persist while the Railway Union assembly reveals how the Tolstovian drama continues into this new era despite the change in costume and hostile attitude to Rostov.

The race to the final two Principles drops something ominous into the open-minded attitude shown in the previous five: with Cause and Effect as well as Masculine and Feminine Principle factors that cannot be changed, try as hard as we might to mentally overcome this situation. Who among the Initiates have this ability to raise themselves to the higher plane? Mostly men I would suspect, but not ready to give ALL away.

Gaining speed as von Franz moves from the heady pattern-recognizing concept of number to the other side of the coin, the unus mundus somehow etched on the tail side. Mandala of Self, cybernetic calculations and quantum matrices all received her spirited analysis, including her wonder about “some old cook” (p. 220) winning the lottery after dreaming up the correct numbers, guided by animalistic intuition.

Once the Principle of Mentalism is accepted, or not, the next four are a walk in the park, starting with the many Planes of Correspondence, and onto more commonsense Principles of Vibration, Polarity and Rhythm. Even with the mundane inner-workings of these Great ones, a sense of THE ALL becomes a bit more clear, especially as everything is a degree of movement from one another. Wonder how Polarity vibes with Gender?

Wrapping up the analysis of natural numbers significantly on Jung's favourite, four, it foretells the completion of the quaternized Self. She does not land on other mystical numbers worthy of examination such as seven or 137. The latter, however, is the page number for the following field part where von Franz sets up what will become her psychological study of number, hinting at the other side of synchronicity: time.

Of all the pieces of the Kybalion puzzle, or “keys” as they are referred to here, the Principle of Mentalism is the most challenging to make fit as it asks one to consider the entirety of The All without any clear way of seeing what the completed puzzle will become. Taking a couple chapters to elaborate on this mystery helps, partly by weighing that one puzzle piece in one’s hand and putting it down when ready.

The Goldilocks version of the classic play, has just enough of the old Chekhovian elements to make Johnny seem like a Vanya while the other characters eff their way to an unsatisfying conclusion. The big BANG still happens near the end of Act Three yet just like the disillusioned gunman claims, there are no consequences for his crime, and a literal return to the way things were at the start, signals there never will.

The translator introduces a revealing comment about Chekhov and why his modernist plays continue to be adapted and staged, that they were written to always be happening now. Perhaps that is why the suffering statements of each inhabitant of the house seems to echo through the ages. Nothing really ties it to on age or another, except a sly reference Michael makes to Doctor Strange! But it reinforces this timelessness.