In Jung’s theory, the anima makes up the totality of the unconscious feminine psychological qualities that a man possesses and the animus the masculine ones possessed by a woman.
So, when a man puts down or suppresses a woman, it tells us that he has a complex or issue with his own feminine. As an individual or collectively. We live in a patriarchal world. There are so many journeys a male has to correct this problem. Myth, religion, and psychology, or maybe just listening to a female for a change.
Women can learn to handle this problem by developing and having a strong ego and addressing the male within her own psyche.
It is so different what a man and woman face and project out into the world. When I am conflicting with a man it is because my animus is acting up and needs to find balance. I must express my intellect and feelings. It is a challenging and rewarding process where I have found bliss, creativity, and hope… one does not always have to dwell in the underground…maybe a good film noir satisfies this dilemma… a heavy metal song or horror film… or a cup cake with lots of frosting. I like having a well-balanced animus and anima. It took a lot of work… I am aware of it always as a process of life. It is not boring in the slightest, either.
One of the three sister goddesses known as the three Graces who are the givers of charm and beauty in Greek mythology…. I call upon her now…. we need real beauty….,
You may think the story I am about to tell you is a bizarre story, but it is real, we are living it… yes now… it is redundant.
I have foresight. It means I can see things. The Covid-19 and all variants are not what you may think. It lives and expands through our bodies. Spreading from human to human …
If you could see it like I can, I encourage you to change your mind about things. If you are playing it safe, you will understand that what you are doing is for the common good of all human beings.
From another realm the Covid-19 virus is like a vast spider’s web. It takes and expands. It goes around and around. Humans are just a source of temporary expanding blissful glory of this multidimensional expanding life force.
It hovers and attacks those who are unaware and stupid. It can read minds and goes after those who play this death game. Some humans are in on it. They think they have control, and they want other people to die. It is a form of mass hysteria of denial that the virus picks up on. It is not stupid. It wants to survive. Until the very end.
I can see it. My foresight tells me to tell people to beware, be careful… yet they play a lost game of denial, ignorance, and defiance. They tease it. This only makes it hungrier. The common good of humanity is not their concern.
I wait and watch from my cave. Deep grieving I feel. I see it all from my electrical fire. I see the variant spreading. A dancing organismic virus web going around and around… and every time I see it from a distance, it sees me very aware.
I give it the finger because mine is cleaned and watched, my mask is on and I social distance. That is the one thing this creepy multidimensional monster hates.
I hope you know what this vast nympho wants… close together people, human beings who sweat on each other, jumping up and down against each other. It is a nightmare, Surreal-intrinsic… and all I can do is watch from a distance.
Innocuous in my cave around the electrical fire, for now… what a real sickness I see…
Rome is full of the sound of running water, near or distant, loud or barely distinguishable; running water and stone steps are almost as much the signature of the city as the cream-colored domes against the blue sky: and it was not a thing easy to believe, that the man standing at the other end of the window would be urinating against it.
~ Tennessee Williams The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone
Within the story is a journey of the feminine. A journey that is not often revealed in our current culture. I have watched this film many times. The characters have depth and are interesting. I got a copy of an eBook to read a year or two back. Today I read it and I am glad that I did. The film is an exceptionally good rendering but lacks the full depth of the novel.
Two characters in this short novel are the opposite from each other. One is a shy beautiful young man who rests on an Egyptian obelisk and the other is an aged woman who has lost her beauty and rests on an experience she calls drifting. “American tourist who had stopped a little space away from him, under the Egyptian obelisk whose cryptic pagan engravings the man was appearing to study.”
His clothes are worn and there are holes in his shoes while her clothes become more and more of the highest fashion. This beautiful Apollo has no name and the aged woman is a famous actress, and both find they are in Rome. One was born there the other is a rich tourist. The young man is fixed on her, “for when a man has an appointment with grandeur, he dares not stoop to comfort…”
She is aware of him yet ignores him. He tries to get her attention and she is frightened by his common ways and poverty. His archetype is her Dionysus, that is reaching for that part of herself that is empty. He wants to fill that emptiness with passion and happiness. A stillness that speaks of illumination. He taps, appears in reflections from windows and gestures an ancient salute to try and get her attention.
“His beauty was notable even in a province where the lack of it is more exceptional in a young man. It was the sort of beauty that is celebrated by the heroic male sculptures in the fountains of Rome. Two things disguised it a little, the dreadful poverty of his clothes and his stealth of manner. The only decent garment he wore was a black overcoat which was too small for his body. Its collar exposed a triangle of bare ivory flesh, no evidence of a shirt. The trouser-cuffs were coming to pieces. Naked feet showed through enormous gaps in his shoe leather. He seemed to want to escape the attention which his beauty invited, for whenever he caught a glance he turned aside from it. He kept his head lowered and his body hunched slightly forward. And yet he had an air of alertness. The tension of his figure suggested that he was continually upon the verge of raising his voice or an arm in some kind of urgent call or salutation.”
The film does not touch in on many of the especially important elements that hint upon the magic of female initiation contained in Williams’s novel. The film is much darker than the path of the story. “…by the balustrade of the terrace. She looked down from it, absently, into the well of the little piazza below. The last remnant of sunlight was touching the pagan inscriptions upon the dull rose granite of the obelisk.”
Karen Stone is waking up to a place within herself. A place that is not moving. She lost her husband to death and has given up her acting career. Karen lost her beauty and the pretense of years of heartless ambition. Her drifting is now partly filled with another young man. He has a name, a position, and has many of the ambitious qualities that she herself once had.
“Paolo is by way of being a little—what was the word she had used? Oh, yes, marcbetta! Something a little superior to a whore but still something on the market superior mostly in being more expensive, an article of greater luxury and refinement, what the French called poule de luxe…”
One difference is he awakens a passion in her she has never experienced before. Even after menopause she is now finding a new place in her life. “The past was, of course, the time when her body was still a channel for those red tides that bear organic life forward. Those rhythmic tides had now withdrawn from her body, leaving it like a tideless estuary on which desire rested like the moon’s image on a calm sheet of water.”
Maybe only moments open to her where she does not experience that feeling of drifting. ” She feels as if time has stopped. in her heart, what would she find as she moved? Was it simply a void, or did it contain some immaterial force that still might save as well as it might destroy her?”
A shining happiness is approaching Karen Stone that may be something ancient and good. “Her head was remarkably quiet as if a savage bird had been locked in it which had now flown out through some invisible opening.”
I love the film but it is only a shy companion next to Tennessee Williams’s novel.
41°54′22.1″N 12°28′59.6″E Above the Spanish Steps. An Aurelian copy, although smaller, of the Flaminio obelisk of Ramses II in the Piazza del Popolo, for the Gardens of Sallust. Found by the Ludovisi and moved to the Piazza di San Giovanni in Laterano in 1734, but kept horizontal. Erected in 1789 by Pope Pius VI.
“It’s funny how pride and ego are the very last human vanities to go.”
~ D. Brinkley
Death is heavy on my mind these days. So many have died due to this virus all over the world. Putting politics aside I want to look at the fear we hold in us about death.
I have many books on my bookshelves that speak of life, death and rebirth. One does not have to have a religiosity to participate in this rite of passage. It is pretty much out of our control. I do not have the direct quote here, but I remember reading about how William Blake felt about death in one of his many quotes. That he would rather see the afterlife as filled with lovely angels. His heaven was a blissful imagined place.
“The sensations verged on orgasmic, yet my thoughts were spinning a mile a minute.” ~ D. Brinkley
I took two books to look at today. To read and reflect upon once again. One is Dannion Brinkley’s book Secrets of the Light and the other is The Tibetan Book of The Dead.
Both books complement each other in that they talk about death. Dannion was struck by lightning, died and was brought back to life. He has written three books about his near-death experiences. The Tibetan Book of The Dead is a creative and ritualistic book about death in a helpful way. It speaks of the Bardo.
“Bardo means gap; it is not only the interval of suspension after we die but also suspension in the living situation; death happens in the living situation as well. The bardo experience is part of our psychological make-up.” ~ Commentary
I think this is where the world finds itself right now. A gap between the dead and the living, between the staying home and going out and between the past and future. Each moment is the place of bardo, and we are, in a profound sense, all being struck by lightning. We are responsible for this, what is happening in our world. How can we make it better? Well, that is up to you.
So, I took it upon myself to get ready to have my mind and heart prepared. I also think on all those who have died and are dying. A prayer is in order.
Even Albert Einstein as a master mind scientist had a way to see this psychological make-up of humanity,
“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
I live my life upon a miracle. I want to be ready when death finds me.
These times are asking us to go within. Over the generations we have taken this journey within. By choice, by accident and spiritually. Through drugs, side effects from prescribed medication or by magic.
A song can amplify this reality. A writer can share the experience. Songs filled with lyrics are poetry put to music. The images come forth and touch us. These three songs came to mind today when I was out in the garden pulling tall grass from the rich soil. It all came together. The dark earth holds things. Pulling on the grass and releasing the soil is a forward effort of movement. The dark moist earth has a relationship with our psyches.
I believe that unless we willfully take this inward journey as an individual it will be forced upon us. On a personal level or a generational level is how it goes. Anytime we suppress our shadow, blame others, or spread hate it is bound to a generation. Are we not observing this right now? Songs can help us. I need them like I need flowers in my garden or kitty cats to hug.
Here are three songs that explain this journey variable. From the 1960s Catch the Wind by Donovan is a peaceful song. Dead Man’s Party by Oingo Boingo is an amazing song that shares some interesting historical mysteries. The Forbidden Zone by Charged GBH, one dose and you take their hand into a strange journey of a musician’s psyche.
♦Donovan is an unusual songwriter and folk singer that touches upon the light side of our psyche. He reminds us to remember the beauty in life. It is around us and in us if we go looking for it. Our psyches do often look back at us. We can reflect on this soft beauty from time to time.
“When sundown pales the sky
I want to hide a while
Behind your smile
And everywhere I would look, your eyes I’d find.”
♦Oingo Boingo’s song is remarkably interesting and worth listening to intensely. As a young punk back in the late 1970s I had an Oingo Boingo badge on my jacket. I was approached by a couple of punk chicks who mocked me and belittled me for wearing it. A time when the first signs of punk cultism started to show its ugly face.
“I was struck by lighting, walkin’ down the street
I was hit by something last night in my sleep
It’s a dead man’s party who could ask for more
Everybody’s comin’, leave your body at the door
Leave your body and soul at the door.”
“For Crowley, who was a painter himself, the artist ranked above the magician on the totem pole of illumination, and he considered poetry and art as precious tools for transforming one’s innermost psychic visions.” Chapter Spencer Kansa, Pg. 92 Wormwood Star, The Magickal Life of Marjorie Cameron.
♥A wild journey inward to the shadowy psyche is found in the book City Baby from Highgate to Hawaii… Life, and GBH by Ross Lomas.
“This went on for hours. More and more of the same. It was incredibly intense. God and Jimi and Anne Carpenter and the devil and the fucking taxi driver, fighting over my soul right up to the point I passed out in exhaustion.” ~ Chapter neil sedaka, Pg. 120.
“Take my hand and we’ll explore,
The forbidden zone.
When you’re in your own tree,
But don’t know if anybodys home.”
Jimi Hendrix was playing guitar while Anne was a nun of salvation may show us that his journey was amplified by many elements as a fight for his soul. When the shadow opens to us it is always a powerful trip. I find that Ross most likely is stronger for his experience. A bite like this prepares us for real outward tragedies as we are facing today.
I love this picture that my son took of me. It is that time when I united the male and female within me symbolized by my two tattoos of Dionysian Hollyhocks.
I was reading that Indian Gurus’ overall goal is to unite all religions of the world. They also talk about a united male female god. This is very simplistic I know. Also, the religions of the world have tended to be very male oriented. As most cultures or all cultures for the last two thousand years. As a religious studies major in college, BA and Masters, I always had a thorn in my side. With in-depth Jungian Psychology I have found the answers to many of my concerns. For me it was uniting the masculine and feminine within myself, or in Jungian terms the anima and animus.
I have a “hard-on” for life. Even within the diversity of life right now. I can’t help getting one when I see flowers in bloom and the whole of nature in a type of rapture. Welcome Spring. It is not the male kind of hard-on but it something inside. Not sexual but very blissful-orgasmic at times
Now I try to feel it as often as I can. When I get the hard-on for life. Flowers blooming, a song, my friends all help to amplify this experience.
It is ironical for me to have these feelings while also having to balance it out with my compassion for what we are all going through now. I know it is a dark time, a real challenge for all of us in different ways.
I am mindful of those suffering. They are not alone when we think upon them. I have love in my home that comforts me.
Also, the human Ego is my friend. I think that males and females have a different relationship with their Egos. I feel males need to let their Egos float downstream a little. I think females should ride their Egos. It is good to be admired as it is to admire another. I like the feeling of appreciation as well as when I feel the feelings of appreciation for another.
As a female riding her Ego it is like riding in a canoe. Sometimes the river is smooth and glossy. Other times it is a prissy fucking nightmare. Yet we need to express our realities to the world as I am doing here.
Life can be many things at once. Goodness and badness, light and dark, friends and enemies. These are the polarities that we are facing currently in our world of extremes. Even though there is a third path, as in the fact, regardless bees are still making honey. Just go outside and find a bush with flowers. If you live in the very cold you may have to wait until spring. Here is California my hanging rosemary is going to town. The sound of bees is my convent to the earth. My repetitious theme song is by 10 Years After, If I Could Change The World. Redone by another band more on the punk side. So here we come to the core of my focus. The 60s, and the late 70s, and 80s. A decade each.
The 60s were an amazing time for free thinking and youthful rebellion against corruption. A sick government and a terrible war. Yet in this illuminated time darkness was born by the name of Trump. Likewise, the 80s a new music scene revolutionized forward with unclassified music that became divided and classified. Still mighty awesome. Then we have the general Qassim Soleimani who was just assassinated, who was born as a prime one for the punk scene.
Donald Trump born June 14, 1946 (age 73). He was prime for the 1960s as his youthful young adult time. Hippie time. Now we have the general Qassim Soleimani who was born March 11, 1957. He was born at a prime time for the genesis of the punk rock phenomenon. A punk.
The most creative times and inspired times in history the dictators are born. In the darkest times and in a vacuum of hate the best are born that humanity has to offer this troubled earth. In generational time frames a hippie kills a punker.
Nonetheless, do not lose sight of what is now happening right now. We have a few knights rising to the call. I can see their light crescendos in the darkness. Very androgynous like most bees.
“Eternity interrupts. It is as if there is a plane where there is clock time and then eternity puts its hand in for a minute and you have an archetypal experience. You have a feeling of what Jung said was “the infinite, “and then very often the watch reacts to that.” ~ The Palace of the Cat: The Cat Marie-Louise Von Franz.
This is a short story about a friend. I find the best friends are not the ones that you make yourself but are the ones that find you. They stand the probability of time. They happen without planning and endure without much effort. She was like that. I first met her online on Facebook. We had common friends of friends. She was also interested in music as well as William Blake and Carl Jung. She showed up at my first speaking event at Whittier College.
Later she told me about a Punk event at UCLA college that I applied to and was accepted at. She was there for me and I shared many stories and my creations with her.
I think I inspired her to go to Pacifica Graduate Institute offering degrees in the clinical psychology, counseling, mythological studies and depth psychology.
At this time last year 2018, she offered me an extra William Blake calendar. I accepted it with honor. Every day I looked at the calendar and thought of her. Happy to have such a friend. Remarkable I am taken back by the last image of the calendar of The Archangel Michael Foretelling the Crucifixion. She passed away this December 2019.
I am a weird Christian mystic in many ways. I learned that the crucifixion is symbolic of a person’s day of release from their physical body.
As friends, have our souls not spoken to each other?
I think so.
“They looking back, all th’ Eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,
Wav’d over by that flaming Brand, the Gate
With dreadful Faces throng’d and fierie Armes:
Som natural tears they drop’d, but wip’d them soon; [ 645 ]
The World was all before them, where to choose
Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:
They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
Through Eden took thir solitarie way.
~Book 12 Paradise Lost; Milton.
To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. ~William Blake
To U.S. Representative for California’s 28th congressional district Adam Schiff
I see an illuminated bright
five pointed star
Over the emotional ocean
Of black and greasy-greedy oil
The light moving upon this darkness Wavering leaps of sparkling exuberance.This star ascends
as the current below moves
like the waves of a darkened
Depressed ocean. Shall we focus on the star For the exuberance is likeA cleaning soapA detergent affirming justice The Eagle is scrubbed clean.I see an illuminated bright
five pointed star I hear the waves of the ocean Calling to break theEagle clean.
Returns the rhythm to the rogue wavesI see justice there
hearts are buoyantUpon that black and greasy-greedy oil
awareness and mindfulness
The Eagle is scrubbed clean!
“Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.” ― William Blake
It was terrifying living through the California fires. I took a picture across the street then of what I see as a fire monster. At least it looks like one. The fires approached so close to our home.
When Spring came so did the Monarch butterflies. A flying path over our home called us to visit the burned hills. I was beside myself with wonder. How resilient nature is. I know these hills well, and I saw blooming flowers I had never seen before. A multitude of creatures and fresh green hills. Roadrunners and rabbits have also returned.
Today I study the ideal of contraries. It is part of who we are as human beings and nature and the cosmos. I cannot think of a better quote then William Blake’s above to understand what we are going through right now. I want to share a hopeful part of nature as well. Contrary as is may seem now. It is a dependable pattern we can trust.