Matrignosis: A Blog About Inner Wisdom

Think Pyschologically; Live Spiritually

Anima/Animus: The Archetype of Contrasexuality December 22, 2015

sacredmarriage

Filling the conscious mind with ideal conceptions is a characteristic of Western theosophy, but not the confrontation with the shadow and the world of darkness. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. Carl Jung. “The Philosophical Tree” (1945). In CW 13: Alchemical Studies. P.335

So far in this series about the five major players in every psyche, I’ve written about the ego, our center of consciousness; the persona, our social mask;  and the shadow, our disowned qualities.  The remaining players are buried much deeper in our unconscious, and can only be accessed after we’ve learned about, and come to terms with, the very real and potentially toxic powers of our shadows.  Until this happens, we will not reach the fourth level of the psyche or mature self-knowledge.

To confront a person with his shadow is to show him his own light. Once one has experienced a few times what it is like to stand judgingly between the opposites, one begins to understand what is meant by the self. Anyone who perceives his shadow and his light simultaneously sees himself from two sides and thus gets in the middle.  Carl Jung. “Good and Evil in Analytical Psychology” (1959). In CW 10. Civilization in Transition. P.872

Getting in the middle is good!  Seeing ourselves from two sides—i.e. conscious and unconscious, good and evil—frees us to discover our full individuality.  We do this by meeting and coming to terms with the anima/animus archetype of contrasexuality. This pair represents the two fundamental energies of the psyche.

Jung said the anima is the unconscious feminine.  He believed she is a particularly potent force in the psyche of a man, but today it might be more appropriate to say of a person whose ego identifies primarily with maleness. Historically thought of as soul, Jung associated our unconscious feminine sides with Eros, the principle of feeling and relationship.

Conversely, the animus is the unconscious masculine, a unusually powerful force in one whose ego identifies primarily with femaleness.  Historically thought of as spirit, Jung associated our unconscious masculine sides with Logos, the principle of rationality.

Until very recently, humanity has not understood that everyone contains all the qualities associated with both energies, and so has made the mistake of assigning specific and limiting roles to the genders. Even Jung tended to be confusing when writing about this issue, as he believed that every woman’s psychology is founded on the principle of Eros, and every male’s on the principle of Logos. But might he have been influenced by gender stereotypes which were so strongly imposed in his time?  For in organizing the personality types into the two opposites of Logos thinking and Eros feeling, he acknowledged that both potentials exist in every psyche. So why assign each to a gender? In other words, even this great psychological pioneer had difficulty being clear about this issue.

Anumus Anima, Why? Wendy Stark, YouTube

Credits: Animus Anima, Why? Wendy Stark, YouTube

I think Erich Neumann said it best when wrote in The Origins and History of Consciousness (Princeton University Press, 1954) xxii n. 7:

“…we use the terms “masculine” and “feminine” throughout the book, not as personal sex-linked characteristics, but as symbolic expressions. . . . The symbolism of “masculine” and “feminine” is archetypal and therefore transpersonal; in the various cultures concerned, it is erroneously projected upon persons as though they carried its qualities. In reality every individual is a psychological hybrid.”

There is no final word on this issue as yet, either in the Jungian community or the general public.  The stereotypes about gender that have prevailed throughout the patriarchal era (about 5,000 + years) have confused and severely constrained the psychological development of all of us. However, we are beginning to understand that the creation and evolution of every form of life, both physical and psychic, only occurs when these two complementary forms of energy merge in a reciprocal partnership. Neither form is superior or inferior to the other and nothing new can be created by either one alone.

The anima/animus archetype manifests as new potentials that most of us will only consciously develop after we’ve fulfilled the basic tasks of the first half of life:  getting an education, developing our interests and skills, proving ourselves in jobs, finding love partners, and establishing a home and family. In our dreams, our anima/animus qualities appear as unusually fascinating and influential women and men who compel us to challenge and change outmoded attitudes, thoughts and emotions. Opening our minds and reflecting on these changes spurs healthy growth;  rejecting them out of fear or stereotypical thinking stunts further growth into mature consciousness.

As I write this, it’s Dec. 21, 2015, Winter Solstice Eve, the darkest night of the year. In the following video I share my very first recorded dream. It’s very fitting that it featured my animus as an attractive, seductive man who wanted to enlighten me about love. Fortunately, I was ready to push past my fear and learn what he wanted to teach me. Please enjoy my holiday offering to you: The Dream Theatre of the Anima/Animus.  This dream brought more light into my psyche. May it do the same for you.

 

 

Muse, Anima, or Soul? September 1, 2015

The Ponte Vecchio (

The Ponte Vecchio (“old bridge”) in Florence, Italy

Recently a reader asked this question: “If a woman performs the function of being an artist’s ‘muse’ and if the artist believes (to paraphrase Joseph Campbell in ‘The White Goddess”) that ‘she is a representative of the goddess deconstructing and remaking him’ then where does muse/anima begin and end?”

I wasn’t exactly sure I understood the question fully, but here’s how I replied…in a slightly revised form now that I’ve decided to make a post of it.

Well, right off hand I’d say that the muse is one of several functions of the Anima.  Anima is the name Carl Jung gave to a man’s unconscious feminine side. As I use the term however, I essentially mean the unconscious or undeveloped feminine in everyone.  Sometimes I use Anima and Soul interchangably.  I do the same with the unconscious masculine:  i.e. Animus or Spirit. 

Our feminine side is associated with empathy, intimately relating, nurturing, receptivity, tender feelings, the instincts, and all the soulful, material, physical aspects of human life. Whichever of these are not consciously developed remain in the unconscious as our Anima.

Our instincts are the source of all creativity:  i.e. we need to eat (the instinct for nurturance), so we create weapons and tools to catch and kill animals and fish. Or look for work we can enjoy and earn money doing. Paradoxically, we contain an instinct for creativity itself, although not everyone activates it as much as artists and other unusually creative people. 

Patriarchal culture educates us into a one-sided way of thinking and behaving with values that are active, productive, dynamic, goal- and achievement-oriented, practical, clear, structured, logical, linear and competitive.  In this masculine-oriented environment, many of us repress our Soul into the unconscious, thus losing the ability to care deeply and have empathy for others, cultivate intimate relationships, feel and express tender emotions, tend lovingly to our bodies and the everyday physical requirements of life, and be receptive to our own repressed needs and instincts. Soul requires more time, quiet, stillness, space, receptivity and contemplation to get in touch with the inner life—including inspiring inner images, visions, dreams and imagination—than the fast track allows.

As a result, many, if not most, men project their Anima onto a woman and let her carry it for them.  A man can learn  a lot about Soul vicariously through her, but he won’t necessarily learn to experience his own Soul, which might be quite different from hers.

“In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.” ~Dante Alighieri

Dante sees Beatrice for the first time.

Dante sees Beatrice for the first time.

This can create real problems between them because he expects her to behave “appropriately,”  i.e. as his own idealized feminine side would.  When she doesn’t mirror his ideal image, or Anima, he may be critical, disappointed, or angry at her. This is because he doesn’t see her as she really is, or even necessarily like her;  he can only see her and appreciate her when she appears to be who he wants her to be.  Yet if she leaves him, he can be devastated.  It’s as if she’s taken away an essential part of him.  Which she has:  his connection to his feminine side.

Now, let’s assume this man has a strong, conscious connection with his creative instinct, and is a writer, artist, poet, composer, actor, etc. Let’s also assume that the woman onto whom he has projected his Anima inspires him to use his creative instinct in unusually imaginative and enormously satisfying ways.  In this case, the woman also assumes the function of his muse.  As such, she provides him with an important connection to the “inspiratrix” aspect of his own Anima.

This is exactly what happened to Dante when he first saw the girl Beatrice on the Ponte Veccio in Florence.  His Anima awoke with a lightning flash and immediately took residence in her image. Even though he married someone else and Beatrice died at a young age, her image forever after functioned as his Anima/Muse/Beloved and inspired him to write The Divine Comedy.

In bringing him in touch with his deeper inner life, the muse as his Beloved also provided access to his entire Soul, not just the inspiratrix part of her, but also the other instinctual parts that helped him care and feel deeply, develop intimate relationships, learn about his own feminine side, and ultimately connect with his Self.  It was this  inner relationship with his Soul and her conscious union with his Spiritual side that activated his authentic Self, expanded his vision into the Sacred Realm, and illuminated his brilliant masterpiece.

Unfortunately, most men never see the woman to whom they are profoundly attracted as an individual in her own right. Nor do they realize that the reason they are so attracted to her is because she represents the feminine half of their own authentic Self.

The Divine ComedyBut a man who can learn about his own Soul from the woman onto whom he projects it—i.e. a man who recognizes that the qualities he admires in her belong to him, and who can gain access to these qualities whether she is physically with him or not—is the most fortunate of men. Why? Because to consciously activate and create harmony between one’s own Soul and Spirit is the whole point of the human journey…or should I say, of the Divine Comedy?

And what is that point? To consciously make of one’s own life a work of art.

Image credits:  The Ponte Vecchio, http://www.asceville.org, Google Images. Dante and Beatrice, Henry Holiday, Wikipedia. Divine Comedy, Google Images.

Jean Raffa’s “The Bridge to Wholeness” and “Dream Theatres of the Soul” are at Amazon. E-book versions are also at KoboBarnes And Noble and Smashwords. “Healing the Sacred Divide” can be found at Amazon and Larson Publications, Inc.

 

Ghost Stories June 10, 2014

This is another in a series of re-posts from August of 2011.  I hope you enjoy it.

Last weekend I was telling some house guests about how my golden retriever Bear woke me up at night with his booming bark several times after he died. When I was finished, the husband nodded with solemn knowing and shared his story.

They had an orange cat that was very attached to him. When he was outdoors it would sit on a low table by the pool and watch him. One day after the cat died he was working by the pool and glanced over at the table and there it was, staring at him as it always had. “It wasn’t my imagination,” this very down-to-earth man said.  “This was real. I looked away for a minute, and when I looked back, he was gone.” We all nodded with solemn knowing. We believed him.

Some years ago we re-connected with a high school friend with a history of mental illness. A delightful charismatic actor, writer and scholar, he was living with a lovely woman, also a writer, to whom he was devoted.  When he was on his medications he was great fun to be with, but occasionally he’d think he was well enough to stop taking them and before long he’d be in trouble. One day while Fran was at the corner store he shot himself in the head.

In Fran’s words, “Then, just 26 hours after his death, Bill came to visit me. Suddenly, a space opened in my mind, as a door in a wall would open. There, as close as the air, was Bill in another form.  I was still somewhat aware of the room and the people in it, but my attention was riveted on Bill. He was himself, my love, the man I knew, but not in a body with flesh. Instead, he was a lovely, soft, white being, full of pulsing lights that slowly appeared, peaked, and extinguished to be replaced by others.

“Bill wasn’t alone. His spirit seemed bonded, or somehow fused, to another person in the same form. This spirit was an older man, I thought, whom I had never met. Their relationship was like that of a child at a party and a loving grandparent looking on. Bill was ecstatic — full of pure joy and terribly excited to be with me. The older man was joyful, but calmer and not at all surprised by what was occurring. Months later, someone suggested that the gracious old spirit might have been Bills’ beloved “Grandpa Tom,” whom I had never met, and who had died two years earlier.

“I think that Bill went to some trouble to let me know the truth about what happens after the death of the body. He wanted me to know that the spirit goes on in a most lovely and ordinary way, and that people stay the same in essence. Even in his “second skin,” featureless, Bill was immediately recognizable to me. He also wanted me to know that he was not alone, but experiencing intense joy, love, and freedom from pain.

“Just before he left me, Bill wrote a message in my mind. I cannot overstate the importance of this message, which seems to me to hold one key to understanding a human continuum between earthly life and immortality. I suspect he chose the written word because he knew I would take his writing seriously, as I had done in our life together. His words appeared slowly, one at a time: ‘Nothing exists except love.’”

I don’t know about you, but as I repeat Fran’s moving words I’m nodding with solemn knowing.

Art:  Lightbeing. Artist unknown.

Healing the Sacred Divide can be found at Amazon and Larson Publications, Inc. Ebook versions of The Bridge to Wholeness and Dream Theatres of the Soul are at Amazon, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, and Diesel Ebooks 

 

Moon Over Lake September 7, 2012

Lately I’ve been thinking and writing a lot about nature. I’m starting to wonder why. I do have kind of a “thing” about nature. Always have, I guess. For the first 12 years of my life I loved playing outdoors. One of my favorite haunts was a secret “cave” under a trinity of palm trees beside the back alley. I’d hide there under thick palmettos, savoring the shade and enjoying not being seen by the occasional passer-by.

Back then I had my favorite tree, a pecan in the front yard. Sometimes I’d straddle a large branch and pretend it was my horse. Or I’d shinny up the oak tree in the side yard and settle into a snug fork with a book and pocket-full of sliced apples and carrots. Or I’d climb the Japanese plum, rub off the furry stem end, savor the juicy fruit and see how far I could spit the seeds.

Yet I never spent much time thinking about nature and still usually don’t.  I’m not formally involved in any green movements, although I support them by recycling and trying to reduce my carbon footprint. And about my only outdoor activities are an occasional hike or a bit of gardening when it’s not too hot. I used to ride my horse a couple times a week, but that was all about being with him, not about being in nature. And when my son’s golden retriever Bear lived with us, I walked him for an hour or so every day and enjoyed it. But I wouldn’t have been out there if he hadn’t made it a necessity.

I’ve never been one of those who has to go outside every day. Or who can’t stand to be cooped up in the house and needs to breathe fresh air. Who longs to feel the sun on my face or needs a lot of light. Or gets restless if I stay indoors too long. In fact, most days I’d much rather be inside writing at my computer. This is probably related to the fact that I’m so oriented to my inner world that I forget about my body and outer world phenomena. Yet, I do notice sometimes. And more these days than usual. So where is this new level of awareness of nature coming from?

Actually, it’s not that new.  I’ve felt it coming on for years, but at such a low level of consciousness that I can go for weeks without noticing it. What’s different now is that I think about and am attracted to nature more frequently and compellingly.  And when I’m outside I notice that I feel better somehow, as if something “out there”  is deeply satisfying to a deeply unconscious something “in here”…a part of me that’s been trying to get my attention for a very long time. The same part that feels a deep affinity for winding forest paths under a sheltering canopy of trees, that loves to be outdoors at night, that gets excited when I see a full moon emerge from behind the trees and cast her silvery path across the lake.

What is this part of me, and why is it getting my attention now?  I think it’s my soul:  the physical, instinctual, natural feminine bodily matter of me that has always attracted my evolving ego-spirit self. “As above, so below. As without, so within.” Could it be that my masculine-oriented ego’s relentless search for my feminine self is finally paying off? Are our physical bodies and our Mother, Nature, truly outer reflections of our souls’ inner realities as medieval sages and saints believed? Is the Mother of Life refueling and replenishing me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually because my ego self is making an effort to cross the divide that’s separated my inner opposites for so long? What do you think? Am I on to something?

You can order my newest book, Healing the Sacred Divide, from www.Amazon.com and www.larsonpublications.com.

 

Ghost Stories August 19, 2011

Last weekend I was telling some house guests about how my golden retriever Bear woke me up at night with his booming bark several times after he died. When I was finished, the husband nodded with solemn knowing and shared his story.

They had an orange cat that was very attached to him. When he was outdoors it would sit on a low table by the pool and watch him. One day after the cat died he was working by the pool and glanced over at the table and there it was, staring at him as it always had. “It wasn’t my imagination,” this very down-to-earth man said.  “This was real. I looked away for a minute, and when I looked back, he was gone.” We all nodded with solemn knowing. We believed him.

Some years ago we re-connected with a high school friend with a history of mental illness. A delightful charismatic actor, writer and scholar, he was living with a lovely woman, also a writer, to whom he was devoted.  When he was on his medications he was great fun to be with, but occasionally he’d think he was well enough to stop taking them and before long he’d be in trouble. One day while Fran was at the corner store he shot himself in the head.

In Fran’s words, “Then, just 26 hours after his death, Bill came to visit me. Suddenly, a space opened in my mind, as a door in a wall would open. There, as close as the air, was Bill in another form.  I was still somewhat aware of the room and the people in it, but my attention was riveted on Bill. He was himself, my love, the man I knew, but not in a body with flesh. Instead, he was a lovely, soft, white being, full of pulsing lights that slowly appeared, peaked, and extinguished to be replaced by others.

“Bill wasn’t alone. His spirit seemed bonded, or somehow fused, to another person in the same form. This spirit was an older man, I thought, whom I had never met. Their relationship was like that of a child at a party and a loving grandparent looking on. Bill was ecstatic — full of pure joy and terribly excited to be with me. The older man was joyful, but calmer and not at all surprised by what was occurring. Months later, someone suggested that the gracious old spirit might have been Bills’ beloved “Grandpa Tom,” whom I had never met, and who had died two years earlier.

“I think that Bill went to some trouble to let me know the truth about what happens after the death of the body. He wanted me to know that the spirit goes on in a most lovely and ordinary way, and that people stay the same in essence. Even in his “second skin,” featureless, Bill was immediately recognizable to me. He also wanted me to know that he was not alone, but experiencing intense joy, love, and freedom from pain.

“Just before he left me, Bill wrote a message in my mind. I cannot overstate the importance of this message, which seems to me to hold one key to understanding a human continuum between earthly life and immortality. I suspect he chose the written word because he knew I would take his writing seriously, as I had done in our life together. His words appeared slowly, one at a time: ‘Nothing exists except love.’”

I don’t know about you, but as I read Fran’s moving words I’m nodding with solemn knowing.

 

 
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