the text:
When he reached the town, he said to himself:
“Now I can feast as much as I like - at last!”

After years of scrimping on a miserable pay, with his sudden wealth, the soldier felt like a prince.
He bought a new pair of boots and he went to the best tailor in the town.
Some days later, he was clad in a fine new uniform and people turned in the street to admire him.
Lavish with his money, the soldier was surrounded by folk quick to tell him how to spend his coins, and it all went on a round of dances, fine carriages, theatres and, most of all, on drinking sprees.
Of course, his money soon ran out and when this happened, his “friends” vanished.
When the innkeeper discovered that the soldier could no longer pay his board, he rudely put him out.
So the poor soldier ended up in a garret and every day he had to draw in his belt a little more.
All the fun was over.

One evening, he realized he had never used the old witch's tinderbox.
So he rubbed it, and as it sparked, the dog with the eyes like saucers suddenly appeared.

“Tell me your wish, sir,” it said.

“. . . bring me heaps of money!” gasped the soldier in amazement.
A second later, the dog was back with a bag of coins.
Every time he rubbed the tinderbox, the dog brought him more money.
Then when he rubbed it quickly twice in succession, the dog with eyes like mill stones stood before him, carrying silver coins.
And when the soldier rubbed the tinderbox three times in a row, the third dog came carrying gold.
Rich all over again, the soldier chose the best hotel in the town and went back to leading the life of a fine gentleman.

kristo’s interpretation:
When he reached the town, he said to himself:
“Now I can feast as much as I like - at last!”

Our hero has succeeded in coming back from the depths of the unconscious...just like a shaman...and is now carrying some of its more obvious riches...plus something else...i.e. the witch’s grandfather’s tinderbox.
I’d been letting this turn of the story marinate for awhile in my own unconscious while going about the sometimes difficult, sometimes ecstatic, and increasingly rich details of my own conscious life.
And for awhile...the alchemy was progressing and unfolding quite perfectly on its own.
The difference for me (and now for you), is always in simply paying attention...and being treated to revelations that would have otherwise gone unnoticed for perhaps another lifetime (or so).

And then it seemed to happen that the details of making a living intervened in a more intrusive way, such that I let this fairytale interpretation enterprise languish.

Make no mistake.
Reading fairytales is use-less!
You will not find more cash in your pocket, or the end to your sorrows as a result of this endeavor. Fairytales are not a means to an end.
But more on this later...perhaps.
For now...I think I know what this turn of imaginary, symbolic events is (nearly) all about.

But once again...I'm not going to spill the beans...just yet.

Let’s just say that the Freudian aspect of the soldier’s descent and return from the cave is pretty much right on...and he’s no longer tied to his mother’s apron strings.
Hence his new appetite and enthusiasm for feasting on what every red-blooded young boy-who’s-come-of-age wants feasting upon.
He’s discovered his own sexual power, and sure as hell wants to indulge it.

What’s interesting is that it was the wise old woman archetype who first gave him a taste of it.
There is a wonderful parallel scene in Fellini’s autobiographical Amarcord that qualifies as a genuine intiatory experience.
And especially because it puts the initiate in such utter turmoil that he ends up sick in bed.

So...as I said previously...2 functions down...and probably 2 more to go. He’s learned to fight...and he’s learned to...well, fuck....
It goes without saying that there’s more to life than that...but judging by the lowest common denominator of the collective consciousness, it’s not so obvious that we all actually grok that.

After years of scrimping on a miserable pay, with his sudden wealth, the soldier felt like a prince.

Or maybe...Prince! The specific use of the simile, “like a prince” is more than just a technical detail.
Feeling LIKE something is not the same thing as actually being that something.
Young men who fight and fuck are physically and sexually mature...but they are not wise.
The first thing needed for wisdom...after discovering the necessary physical attributes...is experience.

By definition...a brave soldier returned from the wars has had fighting experience...probably in abundance.
This “feeling like a prince” would then be symbolic of a capacity to gain the necessary experience involved in becoming, shall we say, a lover.
It’s just a comical aside to insinuate that a young man who only knows how to fight and fuck would possibly merit the title: fuck-er.
And which of you has never heard the interesting corollary to all of this; that there are those young...and not so young...males who actually prefer fighting to fucking?

He bought a new pair of boots and he went to the best tailor in the town.
Some days later, he was clad in a fine new uniform and people turned in the street to admire him.

Boots make for a very obvious symbol.
Perhaps that’s why young women intuitively find the shoes a man wears to be so revealing.
Footwear is a universal symbol for attitude.
(No...not necessarily dick size!)
Attitude means one’s standpoint, viewpoint or perspective.
Our opinions reveal our attitude...
i.e. where we stand...or the place from which we tend to view things.

So...our young princely soldier has apparently bought himself a new attitude...
i.e. the attitude and uniform of the player who knows how to fight.
But in reality, attitude can never be bought...
unless we’re talking about the typically nouveau riche perspective that must accompany the kind of cash / energy our hero now has.
It must be earned through experience.
And this initiation by the old wise woman has given our hero the psychic energy to go out and earn his lover’s chops.
His purchase signals his intention...which is what shows up as a brand new attitude.
One that people notice and admire.

And who doesn’t admire courage?
Add to that the confidence of the experienced lover...and what we have here is the Napoleonic equivalent of James Bond.

But just as James Bond is a cut-out cartoon character...until that character is fleshed out (so to speak)....
We must wait to see how much genuine depth our hero can reveal.
Sure, he looks good...but does he really have the goods?

Lavish with his money, the soldier was surrounded by folk quick to tell him how to spend his coins, and it all went on a round of dances, fine carriages, theatres and, most of all, on drinking sprees.

Well, it hadn’t occurred to me until this very moment how the coins are the connection to another function!
Of course!
Coins in the Tarot are the disks....
And disks, in my experience of dreamwork, are the Sensate or Sensation Function.

For some reason, this being another auxiliary function not only wasn't part of the soldier’s consciousness...but we're given to understand that it was...like money itself...lacking.

Sure enough, today’s society mostly values people with Thinking (swords) as the Dominant function...and with Sensation (coins or disks) being first or primary Auxiliary function.
The witch, as the less conscious, secondary Auxiliary would then be Intuition...which leaves Feeling as the true Inferior function / Shadow.

And without explaining Sensation fully, suffice it to say that it deals with an appreciation of physical facts.
Things that can be touched or seen or tasted or heard or spoken...and of course, measured....i.e. everything having to do with the 5 physical senses.
Its opposite is Intuition...or what is commonly known as the 6th sense.

So taking this new found wealth as symbolic of the Sensate function, we see that the soldier is as lavish with it as any typical nouveau riche / yokel lacking in experience and wisdom.

His lack of wisdom and experience is not only the reason for so much unwanted advice...it actually calls forth this new and interesting kind of monkey wrench which is sure to lead him into the forest of the unconscious once more...because that is where the hidden key to his own wisdom lies...i.e. his Shadow.

As I said earlier...experience alone is simply not enough to create wisdom...and these frivolous, greedy voices of the self-seeking hangers-on are no substitute for wisdom.

Now the fact that the money was spent most of all, on drinking sprees must have particular significance...otherwise the fairytale wouldn’t bother to say most of all.

In psychologicl terms, drinking has a long, serious, and complex symbolism.
If you’d like to get down into the nitty gritty of it, I’d suggest reading Celtic Queen Maeve and Addiction: An Archetypal Perspective...by the Jungian analyst, Sylvia Brinton Perera.
Suffice it to say, that it has quite a bit to do with the Intuitive Function...as if the soldier is unconsciously trying to buy his way back to the witch and her particular wisdom (and Function).

Of course, his money soon ran out and when this happened, his “friends” vanished.

Well...there’s no way to buy back into the unconscious, except by reaching the limits of consciousness.
Once consciousness...and the conscious functions...find themselves stretched to the limit...they must break...and this is one of the serious dangers of life.
Psychosis is just around the bend for each and every one of us...unless we’ve got a healthy connection to the unconscious.
One that allows us to get back out of it again!
(Just remember that umbilical rope the witch lent to the soldier.)
Which is precisely what fairytales can do for us.
Paying attention to them...and to dreams...is HEALTHY.
Obsessing over them...or trying to gain control over the unconscious (or anything else) through them is NOT.

So...the soldier finding himself all alone...and penniless (once again) is about to find out what’s possible in terms of his connection to the unconscious.

When the innkeeper discovered that the soldier could no longer pay his board, he rudely put him out. So the poor soldier ended up in a garret and every day he had to draw in his belt a little more. All the fun was over.

Aha! First it seems, things have to get even worse before the soldier can hit the wall...or rock bottom. Not only is the Sensate Function just about exhausted...but his Thinking function...i.e. the garret...being up in his head...is the only place left for him to go.
(And quite a poor residence that obviously is...or at least so says the fairytale.)
And interestingly, the Sensate function is again alluded to as shrinking.
Remember...it has to do with measuring...and that belt nicely serves as a tape measure...doesn't it???

The belt is also an allusion to the umbilical cord which has been symbolically cut...but also his temporary, symbolic way in and out of the unconscious.

So let’s leave things at that, and return when the spring has once again filled up the well....

kristo’s fairytale project
The Magic Tinderbox
part four