IMAGE OF THE SOUL
(IMAGEN DEL ALMA)
The 22 utterances of the poet
ALEJANDRO JODOROWSKY
Translated from the Spanish by Kristopher Biernat, 2023.
Featuring the Tarot of Marseilles, by Jean Dodal, c. 1715.
PROLOGUE
At this advanced age, after going through the Circle of Knowledge, I was able to reach its timeless center. There I met the Taoist poet Se-Hong Tou of the Chinese T’ang period. We decided, he, having died centuries ago, and I, alive for perhaps a few more years, to collaborate on this manifesto, describing the infinite, eternal, and free soul that is hidden in the heart of every human being.
O. HIONG HOEN
Masculine Splendor
Outside its supreme importance is hidden; but inside it is filled with the substance of truth.
It advances as if it were following its own shadow; it slips through greedy fingers, offering the appearance of a dead fish. Without end, all paths are its path. Returning to the minimal, it penetrates the abstract and its life force can cut through the immensity of blank space.
It makes walls fall, it evades forms, it flows in all directions, it crosses the periphery of the world, always remaining in the center of the sphere.
It looks like stone, but when one wants to touch it they will only find a stream of air.
From more to less it has become invisible, and since, it has become limitless.
I. TCH’ON TAN
No Taste Of Its Own
How can you not remain silent, feeling like a small but vital cog in an excellent machine?
How can you not celebrate, comparing the continuous birth and burning of so much wonder to your own individual spirit?
How can you claim something to be yours when the wind blows constantly until it wears away mountains?
Drink to the great harmony itself, alone the crane protects your flight like a beneficial summer breeze pulling light clothes on a line.
Your body is the sea’s curse. The closer you get to it, the further you feel. If you try to define it, it will walk away, with bare feet, forgetting its shoes.
Occasionally, their glance will open a heart that seemed closed. You take their hand and they’re already far away.
II. SIEN JON
Refined Tenderness
He has stripped himself of illusions because he knows that the stars are fireworks.
There, in the perfect solitude of a deep valley, where a transparent fairy sometimes shines, it is still and dark as a cemetery that contains all of humanity’s dead. Your closest neighbor is the passing nightingale. Yet it has the tangled currents of a spilled wave, the leafy exuberance of a spring yet to come.
Among the crowds that have lost their memory it seems that he sings a new air because he endlessly repeats the first sound.
He is so close to the ancient that he makes it contemporary.
Only he knows that he rides in the darkest night on a crazed raven, carrying a lit lamp under his cloak.
III. TCH’EN TCHO
The Impassable
The wild goose never brings a letter from his children on a far journey.
His thought does not travel far away, it is calculated in his daily life.
There is no adornment within it. Neither slow nor fast, with the natural speed of growth, it traverses dreams as well as wakefulness.
He does not run away from the nightmares, he recognizes that they are part of himself, he lets them devour his illusory form.
Despite the cloudy sky, he sees the glow of the moon and distinguishes between the smell of garbage and the perfume of the air.
If some thoughts distract him, he lets them pass: sitting on the edge of a river, dissolving into the sunset, he transforms those noises into a song of thanks.
IV. KAO KU
The Archaic Sublime
Curious spirit, the truth rides and their hand seeks the shadow of the fern; nothing to the great cataclysms, she vaguely perceives her trace in the air.
While rains of stones fall from the sky, visit the borrowed houses that turned into a light breeze, messing up the papers.
Those who try to argue strike upon nothing.
The arrows that are thrown at her land at her feet, turned into flowers.
She is the unprinted silk, unscathed by fictions, woven by the spirit.
She suppresses the sordid barriers, eliminates those cravings that bind her to things, until her inner eye sees only herself, and emerges from the constellation of illusions to drift in a wild and fragrant river.
Out of any category, solitary, free from all ties, she is an ancestor.
V. TIEN YA
The Original Esthete
The gray clouds are clearing up and under their shadow the birds chase each other. Close your eyes and pluck the guitar among the green foliage; above him, a waterfall unfolds its flight.
He has found the place where the Universe is born without ceasing; from there he sees the eternal root of the days and knows that his gestures, no matter how small, give rise to waves that never end.
As if within an unfathomable abyss the infinities flow into it.
That is why he does not write about the world’s defects or complain about love affairs or speak with admiration or contempt for himself or try to seduce the powerful.
The fallen flower does not utter a word, and neither does the man: As natural as a white lily.
VI. SI LIEN
Tuned Metal
Like gold drawn from minerals, like silver extracted from lead, shedding innumerable masks, her impassive face emerges.
Ancient mirror, immaculate body, similar to the spotless moon, settled on what is pure. His spirit begins long before the birth of the world and knows that it will reach the end of creation.
It captures the subtle architecture of being and establishes harmony. Sometimes he contemplates the brilliance of the stars, sometimes he sings to the retired men. Celebrate the one who has brilliant qualities, celebrate the one who doesn’t excel at anything.
Everything you perceive becomes your teacher.
The wave that the river follows is its current state. Tomorrow, turned into a glowing structure, it will cross space until it crosses the last limit and dissolves into what dreams it of.
VII. KING KIEN
Tame Force
It moves like the spirit in a world empty of obstacles. It spreads like a murmur, unfolding the rainbow.
He builds castles in the air, and he is able to live in them.
He walks through the clouds and moves away with the wind. He feeds on emptiness, that is the secret of his strength.
Drink the truth, concentrate on its purity, and keep to the middle path. He has ceased to take over the phenomena.
When he is so motionless that he is mistaken for a stone, he has reached the core of action.
Standing, between heaven and the earth, his transformation is incessant. He knows that the future is a vast memory.
VIII. K’I LI
True Wealth
For him, wealth and nobility reside in intelligence, on principle he despises money; for all lush forests, in the end, become dry wood, while the water without special appearance is often deep.
He does not regret the past or fear the future. He loves mercilessly: he offers accurate help and does not hesitate to cut dead branches.
He does not need thanks, the good that he does he does to himself.
He knows the language of the stones and learns from them. His military strategy is flight.
He never asks for help, his golden cup overflows with wine. Sitting on the edge of an abyss, he advances towards nothingness; his opulence consists in making others rich.
IX. TSÉ JAN
True To Nature
He advances entirely along the path marked out by his destiny and places his hand with the same care as if he were going to start the spring.
If you knock on a neighbor’s door, it’s not to borrow, but to announce the birth of a new breed of bird.
In truth, it never usurps anything, for acquiring with violence breeds more poverty. He leans towards the patient with his entire being focused on helping. Then, his mission accomplished, he forgets.
He never repeats himself, he doesn’t polish a style, he doesn’t create ways to get prizes, he says without detours, he avoids competing. As he knows that everything is lived for the last time, he lives each reunion with the strength of a first time.
Hermit, on the uninhabited mountain, he goes through the rain to see the cherry blossoms fall; his simple words and his well felt phrases have the easy turn of the cycles of nature. In order for him to show himself, one would have to go looking for him in the dark region where the names of things are lost.
X. HAIN HIU
United Multitudes
He hasn’t said a single word and gets the scattering force of the wind perfect; his phrases don’t stick to him, they pass before him like a flock of sheep.
Just as sometimes the blue sky is hidden by clouds that seem to be made of lead, the sadness of a ghost ship surrounds it. But in absolute misery he declares himself a messenger of dawn.
Crises polish it like a river pebble. So he falls to the bottom, and he floats on the surface; his work is similar to a filtration, drop by drop, dispersed particles, dust in the air, water bubbles in the sea.
Giving himself up to the incessant multiplication of things, he can keep unity present. Superficial or deep molecules, concentrated or dispersed, he welcomes ten thousand and keeps only one.
XI. HAO FANG
Out Of The Material World
He first contemplates the sensation produced in his body by what comes into contact with the organs of perception; then the reactions created in his spirit by that sensation.
He sees himself desiring and rejecting the shadows that the object produces in his mind, a vicious desire to tie himself to the constant presence of those illusions.
But he, without falling into the trap, lets the sensations appear and disappear; he contemplates the opening of the cocoons in the valley of the butterflies, he inhales and exhales the great cosmos, he comes from the immaterial and goes towards transparency, he defends the ethereal until he passes for a madman.
He walks along a white path looking at the sky as if guided by an invisible star. He always shares his dinner with his neighbors.
XII. TSIN CHEN
Pure Spirit
He wanted to reach the pure state and did not reach this end.
It penetrated with lights the waves of the water that do not allow us to see the bottom and the marvelous florescence began its seduction.
Crossing through delirium, he desires to be, to obtain, to appear around an absent being. Then he had to resist the charms of his own soul and pierce the heart of ecstasy to fall into the darkness where at last pure wine filled her cup.
A breath of eternal life arises in the distance, there where the ashes of death never moan and the wonder of immortality is created from nothing. Indeed, what could it be made of?
XIII. CHEN MI
Wise Ignorance
Towards the first truth innumerable paths start, they are avoided before the direct gaze, fleetingly they shine like vipers among the grass. If he didn’t know her, how could he want her?
The route to the true is always so far. In a way, his faith created her. Walking in the dark night he doesn’t care about reaching the end of the road, he only watches his steps.
His words are few and always ambiguous, they do not want to violate or be inadequate; they only resemble a spring that turns green and a shining moonlight in snowy weather.
Although he has witnessed the opening of all the flowers and the agony of so many dreams, he knows nothing.
XIV. CHOU YÉ
Uncultivated Without Shackles
He does not worship ruins nor does he want to impress anyone. Only the spontaneous lives within it and adapts to the circumstances of the end.
He knows nothing but dawn and dusk, without being aware of time. No plans, no announcements, no commitments.
He performs the task that no one has imposed on him.
In abundance he shines without worrying about the opacity of the planets; in barren times he reflects the light of other stars.
He detaches himself from everything except the present. That this central, intense moment suits his thoughts, will it be a reason to drive him to action? No, because it is similar to celestial negligence and according to that model it acquires.
XV. TS’ING KI
The Wonder Of Clarity
He sees in each presence his permanent absence. Sometimes he contemplates and sometimes he stops, because all the nuances of solitude have a deep meaning for him.
In front of the holy places he draws strange symbols on the ground.
When later what he said is repeated to him, he smiles because he has already forgotten.
Like a deep layer of snow under a still sky, or a dawn dimming the glow of the moon, ancient, unusual, with qualities impossible to perceive, he prepares to pass through the gate that leads into the realm of shadow. He freely chooses the death that his reflection reveals to him.
XVI. WEI K’IU
Miraculous Reality
Through the bluish curves of paths similar to the guts of a ram, he reaches where the dark clouds spill jade and perfume the flowers without anyone disturbing them.
Between going and coming back, not a second passes: as soon as he moves away, he returns.
It looks dark and hides nothing. The very instant you lose, you gain. He can only give what others already have and pull out of their mouths the teeth they have lost.
The inexpressible truth is not form by itself, with it one is as round as square; he knows that the sublime pilgrims march for centuries without advancing an inch.
XVII. PEI K’AI
Luminous Melancholy
One after another the stars are dying. The offshore wind breaks the waves and shakes the trees of the forest; under its dry breath the leaves fall, hourglasses from the flight of time raining on the green moss. A hundred years is identical to the buzzing of an insect.
Indifferent, the Universe is destroyed day after day, similar in that to the great genius. On the bank of a clean stream or in the shade of a pine tree, carry a bundle of firewood or listen to the cicadas.
When you get to the reality of things, what is amazing about them no longer disturbs: no well has a bottom. What a delight then to eat an apple on the edge of the abyss!
He knows that life is an illusion, that’s why he loves.
XVIII. HING YONG
The Fleeting Face Of Appearance
The extreme conditions keep the truth, that’s why the poet returns to the realm of purity. He does not comment on what is experienced when words disappear: it is impossible to seize the shadow cast on the water.
He does not strive to achieve, he does not fight with himself. If he is falling, he becomes heavier to reach the bottom as soon as possible; if the furies want to tear him to pieces, he opens his hands and feet offering himself to their bite.
The clouds with the wind change their contours, flowers and herbs become subtle in spirit, the incessant waves of the sea and the bristling of the mountains are the same: the prodigies of the great mystery are nothing more than dust.
He breaks with appearances and obtains the conviction that nothing is but similarity. He is excluded from the multiplication.
Dissolving into unity he becomes eternal.
XIX. TCH’AO I
Beyond The Achievable
Arrogance does not save champions from dying. The heroes sacrifice themselves for a future that is a repetition of the past. The saints run with open arms after fleeing crosses. The world is too big for geniuses who wish to flood it with their works. A piece of rotten meat silences any philosopher.
Before the spirit of a god and the most hidden atom of the microscopic, what is it? It is the same as holding on to a white cloud confident in the pure wind to return. That leads him far without ever arriving. He leans towards it and it no longer exists.
That is why in apparent death it celebrates real existence. Each falling leaf performs a sublime dance. Art is as ephemeral as individual life. Beauty exists only in what perishes.
From the arrogant trees of the confused mountains to the perfumed scents of the moss, the poet celebrates that the world is fading away. The mirror disappears when it realizes that it is the same as the mystery that it reflects.
Without the feeling of loss, the sacred luxury ends.
XX. P’IAO I
To Float In The Sublime
When he has drunk the wine to the last drop, he takes a bramble for a staff and walks around singing.
To get there, he walks away from his goal. To obtain himself, he forgets.
He is not afraid of contradictions. What is he going to explain?
There is only one key for all the doors.
Lost in joy because with each knot he cuts he gets closer to where there is none. In what he is being he loves what he is ceasing to be.
He leaves footprints that slowly enlarge until they permeate the entire path.
XXI. LIEOU TONG
The General Spilling Of Things
He who wants to dominate the world, life will humiliate. The world is similar to the waterwheel and the burin rounding off the pearls; how would it be possible to trace a route for it? The axis of the earth turns mysteriously on the hinge of the sky, here it takes a point of support, there it adjusts its mechanism.
Supreme clarity returns in an inevitable cycle to dark nothingness, and each millennium is a closed circle.
That is why he does not have clear thoughts, he shies away from ideals, lets the glasses overflow and immerses himself in what will be forever unknown to him.
He doesn’t seek, he allows them to find him. He doesn’t ask to be loved, he loves without limit.
TRANSLATOR’S NOTE
I intend to return to this text soon. When I initially translated it I knew little of the tarot, and little Spanish. I hope to edit this, and replace the images with scans of Jodorowsky’s own tarot deck that he revived in 1997. Once I have the time to scan my cards, and reedit this text I will reshare it.
Kristopher Biernat 
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