Matrignosis: A Blog About Inner Wisdom

Think Pyschologically; Live Spiritually

Insights from Ireland: Dreamwork as a Vessel May 14, 2013

Moths_to_a_flameWe arrived at the conference on “Jung, Yeats and the Creative Imagination” on Sunday afternoon. At our first gathering that evening, Jungian analyst Monika Wikman spoke about the third world between spirit and matter to which Yeats and Jung sought connection because, in Yeats’ words, “a fire was in my head.”

The third world is the realm of creative imagination. The fire in our head is that realm. It is a natural faculty of the mind that we experience as a call to explore Mystery.  Many do not feel its warmth; others are as attracted to it as a moth to flame. Drawing too close can be risky, even dangerous. In Monika’s words, “The beings of the third world have their own life. We do not manipulate the presences; we just open up and allow the inspiration to come.” We’ve heard about the torment, addictions and self-destructive tendencies of writers and artists who’ve been burned by it; and we’ve marveled at the divine madness of saints and holy fools who see the gods and hear their voices in it.

I am one who feels the call to this fire. I didn’t ask for this. It’s simply an inner reality I cannot ignore any more than I can ignore my needs for food or love. Harnessing its life-changing impact on my unsuspecting ego has been a major challenge of my life. Luckily I stumbled on the vessels of writing and dreamwork. These keep me in a middle space that is neither too close nor too far from the fire. Either alternative would be intolerable.

I tell you this so that you might understand why I find my dreams so compelling and why I try so hard to extract meaning from them. I also tell you to introduce the strange dream I awoke from on Monday morning.

Dream #4434: “Electric Blue Possum Excrement”
Act I: Fred’s got several spring cleaning and remodeling projects going on. I’m annoyed at the mess, the workmen, and Fred for not letting me know he’d be doing this. An interior designer shows me a large square picture of a huge golden ceramic urn superimposed over a stately gray mansion. He wants to paper the dining room with this design he’s created and asks my opinion. I’m not sure I want to look at this every day. It feels strange and ungraceful for wallpaper.

Act II: There’s a shiny rectangular portion of a wall in one room that’s been used as a pin board. X has taken off most of the notes that were stuck to it and the surface is riddled with pin holes. I start filling them in with putty and smoothing it across the surface. I envision sanding it when it’s dry so it will look perfect. There’s one sheet of paper left that contains a list of some kind. I start pulling it off to get to the holes beneath. There are a few smaller pieces of paper there too. X doesn’t want me to remove the sheet of paper or see what it’s covering.

electricbluelightningvoltAct III: Another designer piles an armful of primitive-looking antique objects on the right side of a mantel. He moves them around to create a still-life arrangement. I like it. Startled by the movement, a possum hidden beneath the objects darts out, jumps onto the beautiful patterned carpet, and starts running through the rooms. He leaves a trail of excrement in thin, zig-zagged lines. I’m surprised to see that they’re electric blue. As I chase him I yell in angry frustration to anyone who can hear, “I’m not cleaning up this possum shit!” Even as I say this I wonder where I’ll find a pail, water and cleaning rags. I know cleaning it up is my job.

So there you have it. Are you suitably befuddled? So was I at first. Only gradually have I come to see the meaning it holds for me. I’ll tell you about that in upcoming posts. Until then I invite you to share any associations you might have if this were your dream.

You can find Healing the Sacred Divide at this Amazon site or at Larson Publications, Inc

 

Insights From Ireland: Less Mud, More Poop! May 7, 2013

Irelanddoorsign1We spent the week of our conference in County Sligo. This mostly rural area in northwest Ireland was a favorite spot for William Butler Yeats who lived there as a child and returned often for rest, rejuvenation, and inspiration. Our hotel overlooked beautiful Lough Arrow whose islands inspired his much-loved poem, “The Lake Isle of Innisfree.”

On Monday, Jungian analysts Tom Elsner and Monika Wikman talked about the symbolism of alchemy which influenced Yeats and Jung. Tuesday morning’s topic was the symbols of Celtic folklore in Yeats’ poems. We were joined by Noirin Ni Riain, a gifted Irish singer and story teller. Her haunting songs and legends, sometimes voiced in her beautiful brogue and sometimes in Gaelic, brought a deeply spiritual Irish magic to our day and week.

The presentations were supplemented with visits to sacred sites. Some are featured in Celtic mythology; others are megalithic tombs from the early Neolithic period. Of special importance to me was Tuesday’s mid-day hike to the summit of Knocknarea (pronounced knock-na-`ray), a 1,073 foot high limestone hill west of Sligo. At the top is a large cairn about 180 feet wide and 33 feet high that probably dates to around 3000 BCE. This impressive monument is known as Maeve’s tomb.

IrelandbirthdaycallThis visit was special to me because Tuesday was my 70th birthday. And because Fred and I had been given the Knocknarea Room at Cromleach Lodge.  And because in Celtic mythology, Maeve was the Queen of the fairies and the archetype of the Sacred Feminine, the focus of this blog and my books.

The climb up Knocknarea was less steep than the previous day’s and even had a rocky, mud-free trail. Along the way I showed Monika the small stone I had found to lay on Maeve’s cairn. Smooth and flat, the front side was white and the back was a shiny black. Light and dark, conscious self and unconscious shadow: the integration of opposites, the goal of inner alchemy. I also told her about a dream featuring possum poop that I’d had Sunday night after our arrival. First possum poop. Then on Monday’s hike, sheep poop. What next? You’ll see.

Halfway up the trail my cell phone rang. To my delight it was my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters who sang Happy Birthday to me from Florida where it was only 7:30 in the morning! I don’t think I’ll ever manage to take the miracle of cell phones for granted!

Irelandmaevetomb2Most of us made it to the top this time. Through fog, wind, and misty rain our guide told us about the site. Then, in honor of Queen Maeve, and with a nod to my birthday, Noirin led us in a ritual of celebration and respect for the Sacred Feminine who is our guide through our unconscious depths via creative imagination. In closing, we added our stones to Maeve’s cairn along with our prayers and resolutions about our soul-making work. High on my list was to understand why the symbolism of excrement had appeared in a dream I shared at the Jungian conference where I first met Monika six months ago, and then again on the first night of this one.

An especially lovely birthday gift awaited me back at the parking lot.  There, three beautiful horses, one a dapple gray like my beloved horse Shadow, were tied to a fence awaiting their riders from the nearby stable. While I visited with the gray, Fred told Monika about Shadow. When she looked over at us she started to laugh. At first I didn’t understand why, but then she said, “Shadow Behind the Shit House,” and then I got it. The gray horse was tied directly behind a blue porta-potty.

So now it was people poop! We laughed about this for the rest of the conference. With our understanding of the symbolic meaning alchemy attaches to excrement, I was beginning to realize that something significant was going on. Next time I’ll tell you how Tom and Monika’s talks provided more insights about what it was.

You can find Healing the Sacred Divide at this Amazon site or at Larson Publications, Inc.

 

 
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