Stoned Immaculately

Carl Jung
The Red Book

Holy Krishna, Siddhartha Gautama, Christ the Lord, please don’t let it fall into the wrong hands! Forgive me for so carelessly misplacing it – I beg of you – let me find the book!

After at least another hour spent rearranging the whole of the small but extremely high-quality library, the Master ascertained that Pros Theon definitely was not on the bookcase. The situation had become intolerable.

For God’s sake, give me a sign!

A prayerful sound that was verging on the desperate escaped the Master’s lips, but still no response was forthcoming.

Did I put it in a safe place following the comet’s ominous portent?

This time the direct question yielded an instantaneous and equally direct response from a spirit guide.

No, you’ve lost it, man.

The Master sighed deeply. It had to be this one; why couldn’t Soaring Eagle have dropped by?

Any idea of where it could be?

Maybe it’s in the outer limit.

Yes, maybe it is, but I just need some light to be shed on where PRECISELY it is right now.

We need lights out here in the perimeter as well.

And why would that be? The Master scowled ferociously. As if we didn’t know already!

Because out here in the perimeter there are no stars, out here we are stoned….

Immaculately, yes, well, if that’s all you can say then I’d prefer it if you maybe meditated in silence or something, perhaps had a think about your shadow.

Hey, why don’t you just chill, man, it isn’t me whose lost it!

I can’t ‘just chill’ – as you so eloquently put it – until I’ve found the book. The Master leveled a thunderous glance at the ceiling.

Two more hours of anguished searching ensued, during which all the drawers were pulled inside out (the contents checked thoroughly for the first time in years) and every cupboard and closet, including the drinks cabinet, turned upside down.

Finally, giving up in despair, The Master poured a quadruple Jack Daniels and injected it with a splash of coke, smoked a large pipe full of pure marijuana and headed into the bathroom with a recent edition of Psychic Circular.

That’s the spirit, man, if you relax, it’ll find you.

Pros Theon


The Master sighed, deep in thought, and approached an overloaded bookcase on the Eastern wall of the treatment room. The afternoon sun cast rendered certain areas invisible with its blinding rays.

Scanning the shelves intently, following the words on each well-worn spine with a finely-nailed forefinger, all but that which the Master sought was readily apparent, the object itself merely absent.

After almost an hour of fruitless seeking, the Master stamped a foot and sighed loudly in frustration. Thoughts from what was by any standards a frequently exercised brain penetrated the atmosphere with ease.

Where on Earth is the magical book?

There was no answer to this question.

Didn’t I see it just after Halle Bop came around again and the moon was side by side with Jupiter?

Again, there was no answer, but the Master felt sure this was when the rare and ancient copy of ‘Pros Theon’, which translated into English as ‘By the Gods’, had last been consulted.

Where can it be, for heaven’s sake?

Who could say? No word came, though the room was imbibed with an overpowering sense that to lose the text completely would be disastrous.

There were only seven transcripts of the book left in existence and at least two of those – the Master’s included – were incomplete. Of the other six, a well-used copy was with the exiled Dalai Lama and the Chief Rabbi – who may well have denied its existence had he been questioned – kept a pristine version hidden away in his library behind the more orthodox texts.

Mahavatar Babaji had somehow obtained a copy of the book that he subsequently left with his disciples, while a famously un-heard of Sufi Magician inherited the fifth from his grandfather. This highly revered leader of a largely forgotten tribe of nomads had escaped persecution by retreating to a hidden network of mountain caves above the plains of ancient Babylon.

The Vatican had the remaining two copies of Pros Theon. One was in fragments and a second had been retrieved by the Knights Templar from a vault below the Church of the Sepulchre in Jerusalem.

The Master felt a sudden chill. Could it be true that the only freely available text of Pros Theon had been lost or even stolen?