The Jinn and the General

"In a lecture to a group of Korean officers, an American general, a deputy commander of the Eighth Army in Korea, took two or three minutes to tell his favorite joke, " said Swara when she arrived, after greeting with Basmalah and Salaam.

"His interpreter, then quickly translated the joke, using only seven or eight words. Everyone immediately burst into hearty laughter. After the lecture the General asked the interpreter how he had been able to retell such a relatively long joke so quickly.

'Well, sir,' the Korean interpreter replied, 'I didn't think everyone would get the point, so I said, 'The general has just told a joke. Everyone will please laugh,'"

"And so, the next day," Swara carried on, "Frog came to Toad's house, telling him the next story.

'It was said, when men and women hurtled through the air on metal wings—of a state owned enterprise that is on the verge of bankruptcy, and all similar companies, will continue to be sold; when they rode on a creeping iron—of the never ending cost, and of the debts that continued to swell; when they wore webbed feet and walked on the bottom of the sea—not to learn the speech of whales and the songs of the dolphins—looking for something that could be kept on explored ; when they were digging lands, clearing forests—building a new city; when an innocent was attempted to be proven guilty—vice versa; when hunger and thirst were unsatisfied—anything, whatever it was, everything's devoured; when there was a man who was largely irrelevant, and therefore happy.

It was said also, there was a man, riding a white horse. He was not the 'Lone Ranger', cause he was not wearing a mask. Not anyway, he's a 'Lucky Luke', who shoots faster than his shadow, because the one who shoot faster than his shadow was a corruptor—in this context, who stole money faster than his shadow, and released from prison, faster than his shadow and all of our shadows. He named his horse as Jack Frost—a personification of frost, ice, snow, sleet, winter, and freezing cold. Sometimes is depicted as a sprite-like character, appearing as a sinister mischief-maker or as a hero, and also, used to depicted as a United States major-general during the American Civil War. Is it the reason why he—the man I'm talking about—named his horse Jack Frost? Who knows, but some says, 'the horse is a mirror of your emotions.'

And so, he rode Jack Frost down to a creek. He dismounted, took hold of the reins, and led Jack Frost down to the river bank. Suddenly he saw something shiny, dark blue. He approached the object, a tiny bottle. He squatted down and picked it up, some of it, covered in river mud.

He held the bottle under the river flow, turning it round and round. The glass became blue, threaded with opaque white canes, cobalt-blue, darkly bright, gleaming and wonderful. He turned it and turned it, rubbing the tenacious mud with thumbs and fingers, and suddenly it stopper, a faint glassy grinding, suddenly flew out of the neck of the flask and fell, tinkling but unbroken, on the edge of the creek, over the pebbles. And out of the bottle in his hands came a swarming, an exhalation, a fast-moving dark stain which made a high-pitched buzzing sound and smelled of woodsmoke, of cinnamon, of sulphur, of something that might have been incense, of something that was not leather, but was? The dark cloud gathered and turned and flew in a great paisley or comma, out of the bottle. I am seeing things, he thought, and found an enormous toe, then a foot with five toes as high as he was.

He followed that form, from the bottom up, starting from the feet, knees, thighs, abdomen, chest, and head. Standing there, a man who folded his arms, over his chest. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. Because, according to Dr. Carl Gustav Jung, 'Man also produces symbols unconsciously and spontaneously, in the form of dreams. Man can see, hear, touch , and taste ; but how far he sees, how well he hears, what his touch tells him, and what he tastes, depend upon the number and quality of his senses. These limit his perception of the world around him. By using scientific instruments, he can partly compensate for the deficiencies of his senses. For example, he can extend the range of his vision by binoculars or of his hearing by electrical amplification. But the most elaborate apparatus cannot do more than bring distant or small objects within range of his eyes, or make faint sounds more audible. No matter what instruments he uses, at some point he reaches the edge of certainty beyond which conscious knowledge cannot pass.

There are, moreover, in Dr. Jung's view, unconscious aspects of our perception of reality. The first is the fact that even when our senses react to real phenomena, sights, and sounds, they are somehow translated from the realm of reality into that of the mind . Within the mind, they become psychic events, whose ultimate nature is unknowable (for the psyche cannot know its own psychical substance). Thus every experience contains an indefinite number of unknown factors, not to speak of the fact that every concrete object is always unknown in certain respects, because we cannot know the ultimate nature of matter itself.

Then there are certain events of which we have not consciously taken note; they have remained, so to speak, below the threshold of consciousness. They have happened, but they have been absorbed subliminally, without our conscious knowledge. We can become aware of such happenings only in a moment of intuition or by a process of profound thought that leads to a later realization that they must have happened; and though we may have originally ignored their emotional and vital importance, it later wells up from the unconscious as a sort of afterthought.

What we call the 'psyche' is by no means identical with our consciousness and its contents. Whoever denies the existence of the unconscious, in Dr. Jung's view, is in fact assuming that our present knowledge of the psyche is total. And this belief is clearly just as false as the assumption that we know all there is to be known about the natural universe. Our psyche is part of nature, and its enigma is as limitless. Thus we cannot define either the psyche or nature. We can merely state what we believe them to be and describe, as best we can, how they function. Quite apart, therefore, from the evidence that medical research has accumulated, there are strong grounds of logic for rejecting statements like 'There is no unconscious.' Those who say such things, merely express an age-old 'misoneism'—a fear of the new and the unknown.'

Dreaming or not, he didn't want to pinch his skin, there's nothing wrong with saying hello, a figure he could guess was the Jinn. 'I don't suppose you speak English.’ said he, 'Français? Deutsch? Español? Português? Latin?’ he hesitated. The jinn looked at him, 'I learn faster!' The Jinn was now, immediately, a half times as large as he was. ‘I am beholden to you,’ said the jinn, ‘for this release. I am empowered, indeed required, to grant you three wishes on that account. If there is anything you desire.’ The Jinn's speech, now was better than when talking to the scientist.

‘Are there limits,’ he asked, ‘to what I may wish for?’ and he recalled Aladdin and the Wonder Lamp.

'There are laws of the praeternatural within which we work, all of us, which cannot be broken,' said the jinn. 'You may not, for instance, wish to have all your wishes granted in perpetuity. Three is three, a number of power. You may not wish for eternal life, for it is your nature to be mortal, as it is mine to be immortal.'

'And if I don't have a wish, what will happen to you?' asked the man. 'So I'm not completely free, I even have to go back into that cursed nightingale's bottle,' replied the jinn, hoping the horse rider would proclaiming his wishes. 'But, why you have no wish? Could you describe it, for an instance, in a story?'

Well now, the horse rider, had no story. He was a general, who rode a horse, without needing an escort, all he knew merely war tactics. But to tell a story? Yeap, he was good enough. Then he thought some tactics, something came up, without hesitated, he began a story,

Along time ago, when men believed that Jupiter was the king of gods, who resided on Olympus—told by Charles Perrault—there lived a poor woodcutter, Harry, who found life very hard. Indeed, he had to work for very little reward, and although he was young and happily married there were moments when he wished he were dead and buried.

One day while he was working he was once again bemoaning his fate. 'Some men,' he said, 'have only to say what they want, and they get it immediately, their every wish fulfilled. But it has done me no good to wish for anything, for the gods are deaf to my prayers.'

As he said this, there was a huge thunderclap, and Jupiter appeared before him, wielding his mighty thunderbolts. The poor man was overcome with fear and threw himself on the ground.

'My lord,' he said, 'do not listen to what I said; do not pay any attention to my wishes, but please stop thundering!'

'Do not be afraid,' answered Jupiter, 'I have heard your complaint, and have come here to show you how great a wrong you do me. Hark! I who am the sovereign lord of this world, promise to grant the first three wishes you make, whatever they may be. Think well about what things will bring you joy and prosperity, and as your happiness is at stake, take your time.'

He soon reached his cottage where he threw down his bundle and said to his wife, 'Here I am, Fanny. Make up the fire and set the table and don’t hold back. We are wealthy, Fanny, wealthy for ever more. We have only to wish for whatever we desire.'

He told her the story of what had happened that day. Fanny, who had a quick and active mind, immediately thought of many ways in which their fortune could be advanced, but she approved of her husband’s decision to act with care and caution.

'It would be a pity,' she said, 'to spoil our chances through impatience. We should sleep on it, and wish no wishes until tomorrow.

'That is well said,' answered Harry. 'Meanwhile, fetch a bottle of our best wine, and we shall drink to our good fortune.'

Fanny brought a bottle from the store behind the wood pile, and Harry made himself comfortable, leaning back in his chair with his toes towards the fire and his goblet in his hand.

'What fine glowing embers!' he said, 'and what a fine fire for toasting! I wish we had a black pudding to toast.'

Having said this—whether lying or not—Jupiter withdrew and ascended to Olympus. As for the woodcutter, he happily tied his bundle of sticks and, throwing it over his shoulder, set out for his home. His heart was so light that it seemed that his load was also light, and his thoughts were happy as he strode along. Many a wish came into his mind, but he was determined to seek the advice of his wife, a young woman of good sense.

He had hardly spoken these words when his wife saw, to her great astonishment, a long black pudding coming out from a corner of the hearth, winding and wriggling its way towards her. She cried out in fear, and then again in dismay, when she realised that this strange occurrence was due to the wish so rashly and foolishly uttered by her husband.

'Whattt!' she said to him, 'When you can ask for a kingdom, for gold, pearls, rubies, rich garments and untold wealth, is this the time to set your mind on black puddings?!'

'No,' answered the man, 'it was thoughtless, and a sad mistake, but now I shall be on my guard, and shall do better next time.'

'What does it mean?' asked the jinn.

'Be careful what you wish for,' replied the general while looking for something and picking it up after founding it.

The general stood and said, 'What if you grant all my wishes, jinn?

'Then I will be free as I will,' replied the jinn.

'Then what about me?'

'You've had what you want, but remember, nothing is everlasting in men's life,' replied the jinn.

The general hold the stopper and said, 'You know jinn, that I'm the one who believe something being 'free' are not actually free. Forgive me!' Instantly the jinn was surprised, 'No, don't!' and the jinn was sucked into the bottle. Instantly, the general closed the bottle, and threw it into the creek, then he said to his horse, 'Come Jack, we'll find something more meaningful.'

As he mounted his horse, the man hummed—for the jinn—followed by nodding Jack Frost,

Bila yang tertulis untukku adalah yang terbaik untukmu

[If what is written for me is the best for you]

'Kan kujadikan kau kenangan yang terindah dalam hidupku

[I'll make you the most beautiful memory in my life]

Namun takkan mudah bagiku, meninggalkan jejak hidupmu

[But it won't be easy for me, to leave traces of your life]

Yang t'lah terukir abadi, sebagai kenangan yang terindah *)

[Which has been engraved eternally, as the most beautiful memories]

'I'll tell you the rest, tomorrow!' said Frog to Toad."

Swara concluded with, "And Allah knows best."

Citations & References:
- Carl Gustav Jung, Man and his Symbols, Anchor Press
- Harry Clarke [illustrator], Classic Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault, Gill & Macmillan
*) "Kenangan Terindah" written by Irfan Aulia

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