Orientation
Something new is cooked, not argued, into being. Jung, describing the cauldron in his 1928 seminar, calls it the psyche’s own answer to the impossible impasse: things strange to each other, irreconcilable, are held together until a genuinely new thing comes forth, and he traces this vessel inward until the body itself becomes the cauldron and the kitchen hearth becomes sacred ground. The image is older than any one system. In Psychological Types Jung finds it in Dagda’s magic cauldron, which feeds each guest according to worth; Richard Wilhelm finds its Chinese counterpart in the bronze ting, the ancestral vessel from which the family head served the ritual meal. Joseph Campbell reads the cauldron of Caridwen as an initiatory ordeal, the hero Gwion Bach set to stir it without rest until it yields science and inspiration. Liu I-ming, glossing hexagram 50, makes the logic explicit: change discards the old, but the cauldron obtains the new, and a filled cauldron signals a mind so nourished by Tao that the merely human loses its grip. Nourishment and ordeal, then, are one vessel’s two names.