One of the turning points in my own life took place in the mid-90s when I encountered depth psychology. It came about at a time when I was looking for a way to better interpret and make sense of the ways life had unfolded, and its emphasis on symbolic images within the psyche was very appealing. Even more helpful was time spent with a Jungian analyst, who insisted the image was less important than the way I took it to heart.
Two of these images are ones that appear in the dreams of men and women, usually in the form of contrasexual figures. Sometimes they are recognizable, a friend, former or current lover, and sometimes we can't place them at all. In any case, their function is to reveal aspects of ourselves that have been neglected or have the capability of enhancing our lives. They don't represent real persons, however, and instead, they are symbols of the persons we wish to become, of directions we need to take in personal growth.
Jung called the female figure, the anima, and the male figure, the animus. The former shows up in the dreams of men and the latter in those of women. Now, to be sure, there are other figures who populate our dreams, and we can get to them as time goes along. For now, though, I'd like to concentrate on the animus. Tomorrow we'll develop the anima.
The first thing to keep in mind is, these do not represent a man's "feminine side" or a woman's "masculine side." We often speak in those terms because we associate certain qualities with masculinity and femininity, something reflected in dream imagery. But strictly speaking, the attributes revealed by the anima and animus transcend gender. Personally, I think assigning gender to the traits revealed by these figures gets in the way of what we need to learn, but that's me.
It's simplest to try to visualize the animus and here the film industry comes to our aid. In the movie, Medicine Man, biochemist Rae Crane is sent by a drug company to the Amazon basin in search of a missing scientist, the reclusive Robert Campbell.
From their first meeting, Campbell challenges her assumptions. This is one of the things an animus does for a woman. She begins the film relying on a corporate image for self-definition and ends it finding one that is uniquely suited to her.
Anima/animus figures can be negative (inhibiting, persecuting) or positive (promoting growth). For Crane, the negative animus is associated with conventional thinking and represented by a wealthy young man to whom she has become engaged. Pointing out that her fiance is a major financial contributor who comes from "good stock," Campbell suggests her choice may not reflect her own preferences. When a woman chooses conventionality over originality, it's because she has given in to an image of womanhood derived from the expectations of others. Her task is to establish an identity based on what she envisions for herself, something which may or may not be congruent with an assigned role in society.
As a positive animus, Campbell forces Crane to not only examine her choices and her reasons for making them, but also to look closely at the resources she possesses for dealing with life. Hiking through the jungle, she develops a massive headache and asks Campbell for an aspirin. He brushes her request aside and hands her a more effective local remedy made from the bark of the Yoko tree. In essence, this tells us she is in a place where she needs more than what is provided by the conventional world. She needs a more instinctual approach, one in which she relies on her own very adequate resources, including her intuition and good sense.
In a late night encounter with the village medicine man, she receives a tatoo on her forehead marking her as in transition. She is moving away from the person she was toward a stronger character. By the end of the film, she has abandoned the heavy boots she wore in the opening scene, representing protection from the passion of real life, and now walks on bare feet through the jungle, more sensitive, more aware and open to possibilities. Furthermore, instead of making what she once considered the right choice and marrying her fiance, she decides to remain with Campbell, suggesting she has come to trust her own instinctive sense of what is appropriate.
Whether a woman chooses to use dream imagery or depictions in film or literature as a guide, the image of the positive animus points in the direction of wholeness. It urges a woman to be true to herself, trust her own judgment, and develop new avenues for growth and fulfillment. The women I described in my recent post on relationships are all ones who have nurtured healthy relationships with their animus, becoming not less feminine but more so, as they become more completely themselves.
Almost makes me wish I could remember my dreams, so that I could analyze the imagery. I seldom do, though. They almost invariably vanish upon awakening.
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful! Actually, live in your own head, not someone else's.
ReplyDeleteBe an individual not a number.
I feel completely myself when I paint...which I don't do anymore. And bare footed, well, I am always that, there's no feeling like it. You are in touch with the earth and your maker, its primitive.Just like, wearing nothing under a dress.....feels free.
Garnet: I've heard, and believe it's true, that once we begin paying attention to the dreams or portions of them that we can remember, the more inclined to remember them more frequently, so there's hope. The film I referred to is "Medicine Man" with Sean Connery and Lorraine Bracco. It is one of the best I've ever seen that relates to this topic.
ReplyDeleteCrystal:
ReplyDeleteLiving in your own head and not that of someone else -- strikes at the heart of this. Even in 2010, women are still given the message that there is something unfeminine about knowing their own truth and living by it. Some struggles are timeless.
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