Sounds wild, right?
That's the image we find in Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar 85, a passage that throws us right into the deep end of mystical interpretation. Someone, unnamed, addresses a group, proclaiming, "I am he, son of one fish that swims in the great sea, and who swallowed all the other fish in the sea, and then took them out alive..."
Who is this person speaking in riddles? What does it all mean?
The speaker continues, adding a layer to the mystery, "…and sometimes he emerges on dry land, in order to fulfil: 'And they shall proliferate yiDGu in the midst of the land.'" The word yiDGu, "they shall proliferate," is connected to the Hebrew word for fish, dag. It's a classic example of how the Zohar plays with language, drawing connections between seemingly disparate concepts to reveal deeper truths.
Think about it: the fish swallows all the others, then releases them so they can fill the land and thrive. It's a powerful image of containing and then unleashing potential. A cycle of destruction and rebirth, of limitation and expansion. What could be more core to the human experience?
The listeners, understandably, are astonished. They're clearly as lost as we might be feeling right now!
So, they ask the obvious question: "Since it is not your desire to reveal to us who you are, and whose son you are, then tell us what is the place of your abode?" In other words, "Okay, mysterious fish-person, if you're not going to tell us who you are, at least tell us where you live!"
And the answer? It's just as cryptic as the first statement: "The place of my abode, is one tower that hovers in the air." A tower hovering in the air? What are we supposed to make of that?
This isn't just about a literal fish or a floating tower. The Tikkunei Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, rarely deals in the literal. It's about unveiling the hidden dimensions of reality, the spiritual forces at play beneath the surface of our everyday lives. This "tower that hovers in the air" could represent a state of elevated consciousness, a place of spiritual aspiration, something beyond the concrete and the grounded.
We are left with more questions than answers, which is often the point of these mystical teachings. This passage is an invitation to contemplate the cyclical nature of existence, the power of transformation, and the possibility of reaching beyond our perceived limitations. What does it mean to be swallowed and reborn? What kind of tower do we build for ourselves, and does it keep us grounded, or does it let us float to the heavens?