Jung is reading Nietzsche carefully here, almost too carefully — the Dionysian as merger, dissolution, the principium individuationis shattered so that something larger can breathe. And there is something genuinely true in it: the satyr's doubled nature, god above and goat below, holds the tension honestly. What Jung does not quite name, though, is why the annihilation of individuality feels like relief. The rapturous delight is the tell. It is not simply that the ego expands; it is that the ego, with all its separateness and its suffering, ceases to be the problem. Intoxication — literal or ritual — works because the boundary that hurts is the boundary dissolved. Nature celebrates her reconciliation with her prodigal son, Nietzsche writes, and Jung quotes it approvingly, but notice the grammar: the son had to have wandered, had to have been estranged, for the reunion to carry that weight. The orgy answers a prior wound. Which means the Dionysian is not only liberation; it is also the ratio of desire pushed to its limit, the longing to be held by something larger, to stop being oneself. That stopping is real. The question the passage doesn't answer — the one depth psychology has to carry — is what remains when the music ends and the individual reconstitutes, as he always does, into the very separateness the orgy was supposed to cure.