(You know, it's really terrible when you can get in a game of Tetris on the cell phone while you're waiting for a page to come up on your computer. And it's not like I suck at Tetris, so it's usually a long game. Oh, well.)
Anyway, I promised Miss Lynx that I would write something about my animus, and rather than being a tease like I am so much on this site, I thought I would actually do it.
Lynx's animus (as you will find if you peruse Dandelion Files) has been haunting her lately. Mine's guidance is more, shall we say, sporadic. I find that sometimes I wish he'd show up and tell me how it is, and I end up having to work stuff out all by myself. Other times, he butts in when things are apparently OK; in fact, when I think I'm pretty satisfied with my life, I will have at least one dream where he shows up, at a crowded party or on a street, solely to look at me like, Why are you screwing up your life?
But I get ahead of myself.
My animus is everything that I am not in a lot of ways. He's the guy that isn't afraid to make a scene or be the scene, who's quick-witted, athletic, confident and could give a lesser what anyone who hasn't earned his respect thinks of him. He bears a large physical resemblance to a minor celebrity who I don't find particularly attractive in waking/conscious life (and who I hope I never meet -- it would be icky), and a small resemblance to me (around the eyes). He's pretty average looking really, but he just doesn't give a fuck, because he knows he has other qualities that people love him for.
He first started showing up in my dreams about ten years ago, about the time I broke up with my last (OK, only) serious boyfriend. (Full disclosure: He also bears no resemblance whatsoever to said boyfriend, other than race and gender, and -- probably -- intellectual capacity.) He likes to go barefoot. He's maybe on the short side for a man, maybe three or four inches taller than I am (I'm five six). He has lovely, elegant hands.
And, really, that's all I know about him, other than that he will show up unannounced, sometimes to frown at me sternly, sometimes to grab my hand and help me negotiate a room (or field) full of people, waving and shouting at all the people he knows that love him and who he loves back, sometimes just to sit with me at a table and laugh and eat with lots of people from all walks of life. I often wish I were him, and then I realize that something inside me is him, and it comforts me.
Anyway, I promised Miss Lynx that I would write something about my animus, and rather than being a tease like I am so much on this site, I thought I would actually do it.
Lynx's animus (as you will find if you peruse Dandelion Files) has been haunting her lately. Mine's guidance is more, shall we say, sporadic. I find that sometimes I wish he'd show up and tell me how it is, and I end up having to work stuff out all by myself. Other times, he butts in when things are apparently OK; in fact, when I think I'm pretty satisfied with my life, I will have at least one dream where he shows up, at a crowded party or on a street, solely to look at me like, Why are you screwing up your life?
But I get ahead of myself.
My animus is everything that I am not in a lot of ways. He's the guy that isn't afraid to make a scene or be the scene, who's quick-witted, athletic, confident and could give a lesser what anyone who hasn't earned his respect thinks of him. He bears a large physical resemblance to a minor celebrity who I don't find particularly attractive in waking/conscious life (and who I hope I never meet -- it would be icky), and a small resemblance to me (around the eyes). He's pretty average looking really, but he just doesn't give a fuck, because he knows he has other qualities that people love him for.
He first started showing up in my dreams about ten years ago, about the time I broke up with my last (OK, only) serious boyfriend. (Full disclosure: He also bears no resemblance whatsoever to said boyfriend, other than race and gender, and -- probably -- intellectual capacity.) He likes to go barefoot. He's maybe on the short side for a man, maybe three or four inches taller than I am (I'm five six). He has lovely, elegant hands.
And, really, that's all I know about him, other than that he will show up unannounced, sometimes to frown at me sternly, sometimes to grab my hand and help me negotiate a room (or field) full of people, waving and shouting at all the people he knows that love him and who he loves back, sometimes just to sit with me at a table and laugh and eat with lots of people from all walks of life. I often wish I were him, and then I realize that something inside me is him, and it comforts me.
posted by The Surtsey Islander at 9:17 PM
2 Comments:
You finally wrote again! Yay!
There's a Hindu myth that argues that each person is a universe. After reading about current theories of medicine and microbiology about the "inner environment" of helpful/friendly bacteria, etc., I'm beginning to suspect these universes are more than metaphorical.
We, however, are even worse than average: we have that whole imagination (plus, we're writers, hence we want to understand motives for behavior) thing. It makes describing sides of a personality more confusing, but also more creative. I think imagining an animus or anima is a fine idea for anybody who wants to create.
Maybe our inner animus folks would like to chat sometimes?
Yeah, that concept of "in one subatomic particle, a universe" blew my little ten year old mind when I heard Carl Sagan say it... you laugh, but no, it really did! I just thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever heard, especially since up to that point everything I'd ever been taught on a spiritual/meaning level was very hierarchical and sort of linear.
I'm not sure that my animus (or anyone's animus/anima) is all creativity, even unconscious creativity (I certainly would never have consciously chosen the physical aspects of it/him, other than his lovely green eyes :^)). I think it's maybe something deeper than that. I do think that there's big time wish fulfillment going on (I will never be athletic or at ease in large crowds), and of course there is creativity of a sort at work too. But there's something else at work, at least in my dream life (which is basically the only time I even relate to having an animus). Whenever I've really wanted to sit down and talk to it/him using guided imagery or some such thing, it/he stubbornly refuses to emerge. Or I get some male relative, or male friend, or the minor celebrity (ick) referenced in the blog. It's like there's some sort of fragile glue holding it/him together, and when I push and pull, or force, all that happens is fragmentation.
Maybe I just need to get better at guided imagery. It sounds like you're pretty good at it. :^)
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