I never knew when I would write the next part of my Animus Diet, I only knew I would. So for all you “Jung Dudes” out there who’ve been following my animus journey here’s my latest instalment. I hope you enjoy! As you know I first started my Jungian “inner man” diet back in January 2016 and here in September 2017, as we approach the autumn equinox, after my six month archetypal tarot journey, it feels just right to gather up my pen once more and co-create with my animus. In this article I’m going to explore more key learning experiences since my initial adventures began 18 months ago, where in Part Two last March I met my mother for the first time in 18 years. The number 18, I realise, is an important number for me and one that reappears towards the end of this article in a truly inspiring “animus” dream.
I am a student of the unconscious,
a woman in search of her soul.
I seek the wisdom that knows,
without knowing how it knows.
Under the shelter of my dreams
with renaissance in her hands,
a dark-winged mother descends.
She will not seek or hunt for me,
I must keep up with her alone
and learn to trust the darkness.
The shaman is endlessly set apart
with terrifying initiation rites.
Dreams of dismemberment,
shadowed by re-memberment.
A symbolic death and rebirth
for the witch who travels along
mysterious, spiritual realms.
Where lost souls are retrieved
and returned to consciousness
for the everlasting walk of life.
Jung at Heart
I was truly young at heart when I first encountered Jung, whilst reading a book by Freud, in my local library. Intrigued by him I returned to the shelves and chanced upon his memoir, ‘Memories, Dreams, Reflections’ and sat down to read it. Being only fifteen years old meant that I couldn’t take out an adult book so it took a few trips to the library after school to complete reading. Anyhow I did finish it and although much of what I read went over my head I remember feeling captivated. Then as often happens, Jung and I (consciously) parted company for the next thirty years until, aged forty five years, I met him again and abundantly so, after joining a local women’s Dream Group based on Jungian principles.
Three moons shine deeply above the bed
where she lay alone, her eyes silent as ever.
While I, in my black robe, wait endlessly
until consciousness is brushed to one side.
My hands are untied by the dark Mother
who awakens to embrace me once more.
Each night I place myself upon her altar,
yielding to the Mother’s lustrous voice.
Although I cannot see her light, wet body
I lift mine higher as Witch and Soul merge.
Later, after she plants her seed inside of me,
I give her everything and more, and more.