Arne Saknussem

Those of us who, in our no doubt impressionable youth, enjoyed for the first time the voyages of imagination portrayed by futuristic writers such as H.G. Wells and Jules Verne may recall the sense of awe and wonder that was evoked when we first encountered the most fanciful of their wonderful stories. A particularly memorable occasion for me as a child was when I first came across the name of Arne Saknussem and again much later when I began to see a wider significance and indeed to envision an inward journey - but of an altogether different ilk.

Arne Saknussem was the mysterious predecessor of the adventurers in Jules Verne’s famous novel 'A Journey to the Centre of the Earth'. Arne was not so much a character but a presence throughout the explorers' descent. In their climb down into the depths of the Icelandic volcano Snaefels and the plumbing of the passageways that led ever downwards towards an undiscovered primeval world, the two explorers, who had imagined themselves to be pioneers, came across the name Arne Saknussem etched upon the rock.

So it was that they found that they were not the first people to brave this descent into the unknown and dangerous interior. Some brave precursor, some mind, impelled by the same reasoning, excited by the same urges, drawn by the same lures - had undertaken the very same journey. Was this mind so very different from their own?

Who was Arne Saknussem? What mysterious and self-possessed pioneer ventured into these daunting depths alone? What had he discovered and what might he represent? Saknussem was the George Mallory of the interior odyssey, a subterranean Colonel Forsythe, the conspiracy theorists’ rumoured compatriot of Yuri Gagarin, subsequently declared insane, who was for them really the first man in space.

When one begins an armchair exploration of Natural Philosophy, an earlier and beautiful, gentle description of science (and still retained in the title of at least one university chair) perhaps in the company of many others - but in certain respects alone nonetheless - we find many who have fulfilled an equivalent role to Arne Saknussem. They are abundant in one's own probings of modest depths.

The deeper our studies and personal explorations take us, then the fewer will have been the original explorers - but we can see that they were there - if one can but read the inscriptions. The names may change of course depending on the journey taken. It may be Lao Tzu or Guatama, it may be Einstein or Bhor, Jung or Freud, it may be Anaximander or Paracelsus - but they have surely preceded you there.

But Carl Jung's epic and hazardous descent into his own unconscious and his 'discovery' and description of the collective unconscious is an interior Saknusemm journey par excellence. Fortunately, for us mere mortals, it is not necessary to imitate such a high risk exercise to find what we are looking for within ourselves.

On one occasion I had been spending a good deal of time thinking about symmetry - the symmetry of shapes in the natural world (for example starfish (which later became significant for me in an entirely different context) and snowflakes) patterns in simple mathematics (geometrical numbers, groups) and the ambiguous and disconcerting pictures of Mauritz Escher.

Such is the beauty of these concepts that it may be tempting to suppose that the Cosmos itself must therefore be perfectly symmetrical. But how could this be so? Our very presence depends on the lack of symmetry in the initial quantities of matter and anti-matter and a degree of lumpiness in the primeval fireball. Is there also a question of symmetry or balance between our own conscious and unconscious selves? If so, how would we find out?

In a sense, perfect symmetry at all levels is sterile - the figure is its own image, there is no greater pattern, nothing new emerges and there is no picture to build. An element of asymmetry adds richness - there will be larger symmetrical possibilities. Symmetry or benign balance in the combined whole can result from imperfect symmetry in the parts – which is just as well in human terms.

This is far from being a new notion of course. There before us (and amongst many others) our guide Thomas a Kempis wrote: 'In every perfection there is a measure of imperfection.' In the patterns of flowers we perceive Leonardo of Pisa, in the starfish and the snowflakes are further inscribed Evariste Galois. And of course our own imperfections, not often clearly discerned.

So it is that in an interior odyssey within ourselves we shall find abundant imperfections and lopsidedness too but some of these aspects will have great creative possibilities if integrated into the personal whole. And lost worlds within may be rediscovered.

Like many of us, in my early years I was immersed, willy-nilly, in the received and trusted beliefs of my family. But with the equally common questioning and rebelliousness of youth, out came the plug and out rushed the water. Narrowly avoiding the swirl myself, I never entirely escaped the feeling that something of real value may have gone out with all the doctrinal bathwater. I refer to the embedded spiritual outlook, which I shall call 'the sentiment within'.

But how to retrieve that which was lost? How to seek a symmetry from unsymmetrical parts? Such a journey of rediscovery, return or integration if it is to relate to yourself, has no map - or at least none that is sufficiently clear or trustworthy – although you may have an initial inkling of the best direction for your own quest.

It is certainly wise to be wary of map sellers with short cuts, but nevertheless we may wish to start out and take the first cautious steps on this internal odyssey. As well as discoveries there will be many obstacles, diversions, hazardous descents and setbacks and our view of the way may shift but, so long as we are patient, we may find ourselves sustained by that which has remained constant within us and which endow us with the qualities of Arne Saknusemm.

We were not told much about Arne, but guides to the way, like heroes, have a thousand faces. We can choose one or many from the leaders, inspirers or founders of belief systems or their writings - or none of these at all. Principles similar to the sayings gathered together as the Sermon on the Mount are broadly common to the cores of the major world religions and are widely accepted by decent people within these religions and by many more who are uncommitted, who have enquiring minds, a social conscience and a 'devout' disposition towards the Cosmos and its conscious entities. We may seek insight too from the writings of, amongst many others, non-religious sages such as Carl Jung, great thinkers such as Albert Einstein, the philosophical poets or inspirational popularisers of science such as Carl Sagan.

The practice of conscious deliberation preceding serious action is a logical approach to coherent living, at least most of the time, but in approaching the ineffable infinite, there is something to be said for putting this the other way round and acting oneself into a new way of thinking - for example by becoming a 'star thrower'. And while at various stages in our lives agnostics amongst us may feel less firmly anchored than people committed to belief, perhaps the innate flexibility has its advantages and persistent seeking may well bear personal fruit.

On this journey of reflection we should not feel excluded from anything. One example is provided by a situation that many may be familiar with, thousands of people in western countries attend occasional church services on special occasions, possibly by invitation and partly in a spirit of community, tradition, personal history and sentiment as well, in some cases, as religious belief. In such a context, or the equivalent in important occasions in other religions, to retrieve some of that which was lost, or which was in some cases never there, you could try the following method, which may work, albeit slowly.

If you attend a function that has a religious dimension, look carefully at the words in the order of service and try re-casting them to seek a meaning that is fitting for yourself, putting on one side those elements in the text that would require acceptance of particular doctrine. I find that it can be helpful to get beneath the literal surface of the text which may disguise the appealing underlying values and perceptions that it contains - the lost world of the sentiment within.

It is worth forming our own personal understanding of this valuable essence. That is where harmonious accord, a wider if less binding version of traditional doctrinal beliefs that is accessible to most people, may begin. Denominations and the cultural particularities of the various religions represent, to my mind, the superficial and often separating aspects of religion writ large. In contrast, the sentiments within can transcend apparent religious differences and bridge the 'divide' to agnosticism and humanism.

I scarcely dare speak of it, but sustainable conviction - or faith if you will, though I must admit that I still remain rather uneasy with this concept - should not be found in the suspension of reason but in an enhanced and deeper form thereof. Worldly events see rationality much abused almost every day and put to the service of partisan, greedy or malicious ends. There can be a cold and indifferent sterility to unmitigated logic when it is used by powerful people who benefit from it or who are insulated from its adverse consequences, and great danger also, if this narrow form of thinking is used in isolation from human sensibilities when it can represent a form of fundamentalism.

Insightful and benign reason will help in the search for the sentiment within wherever it is sought. I speak of intuition, transcendence and feelings for things that, at least as yet, cannot be demonstrated and which may be formally unknowable. Thus we may come to a foundation of sorts for belief in the context of the modern world - just as the ineffable quanta themselves, almost beyond the reach of reason, make a foundation for the physical world.

That inward, integrative journey of rediscovery, transcendence or integration of self will be hard and long, with or without a personal Arne Saknusemm, and it will certainly not be a 'road to Damascus' - mistrust it if it seems as if it is. But, in the words of the old folk song, as you ‘rove out one morning right early’, you may have a wonderful encounter along the way, with someone you may yet recognise as you seek your own personal symmetry with the sentiment within.