Jung repeatedly described the appearance of the numinous as the abrupt intrusion of another reality into the ordinary conscious state, as something that suddenly crosses one's path, that stops one up short, that is imbued with an uncanny, challenging, often destabilizing quality. It overwhelms one with its alterity. It is autonomous, tricksterlike, beyond anticipation or control. Such an understanding and experience can be seen as underlying Jung's entire psychology with its distinctive emphasis on the unpredictable, autonomous, and ultimately spiritual nature of the unconscious in its interaction with the conscious ego. Through this lens Jung saw the nature and function of dreams, psychological symptoms, slips and errors, synchronicities, suddenly intrusive events whether inner or outer, "fate"-the entire modus operandi of the archetypal dimension as it unpredictably impressed itself upon human experience.11 The very phenomenon of synchronicity can be recognized as a vivid expression of precisely these two archetypal principles in close interplay: the metaphysical trickster, the unexpected correspondence of inner and outer events that reveals a deeper coherence of meaning in life than had been assumed possible, the inexplicable coincidence that carries a numinous charge, the sudden revelation of a spiritual purpose that works within and subverts the apparent randomness of existence. Here we can recall that Jung's seminal paper on synchronicity-itself something of a cultural awakening to a transcendent dimension, disruptive of established assumptions and conventional logic, and not without its own confusing ambiguities-was published during the Uranus-Neptune square of the 1950s. Jung's enduring testament to this conception of the numinous that informed his psychology and his life experience, one so consistently expressive of the Uranus-Neptune complex and the tricksterlike unpredictable spontaneity of the divine, was the ancient Latin motto he inscribed above the door of his house on the shore of Lake Zürich, where it can still be read today: Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit ("Called or not called, [the] God will come").
— Richard Tarnas
The Latin above Jung's door is not a promise of comfort. *Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit* — called or not called, the god will be present — reads like reassurance until you notice what it actually says: your invitation is irrelevant. The numinous does not wait on your readiness, your spiritual practice, your willingness to engage. It comes on its own schedule, through the door you have not opened, into the room you thought was locked.
This is precisely where the pneumatic reflex gets exposed. Every tradition of spiritual cultivation, every contemplative technology, carries an implicit grammar of *summons*: if you prepare correctly, if you still the mind and purify the vessel, the sacred will respond. The oracle Jung took as his motto refuses that grammar entirely. The god is not responsive to technique. The autonomy Tarnas is tracking here — tricksterlike, beyond anticipation or control, overwhelming in its alterity — is not a quality that invites mastery. Synchronicity is the everyday demonstration of this: meaning arrives precisely when the ego's arrangements have not accounted for it, correspondence erupting through the gap in the plan rather than through its execution.
What makes this genuinely difficult is that the arrival is real. The numinous lands. It is only the grammar of summoning — the belief that we authored the encounter — that the thing itself, when it actually comes, quietly dismantles.
Richard Tarnas·Cosmos and Psyche: Intimations of a New World View·2006