Archives for posts with tag: Carl Jung

Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


From Seedpod to Bloom – Synergy of the Sexes

Part the earth and plant a seed. Mother Earth’s fertile, moist richness willingly receives this seed. Her power lies in her capacity to initiate the process of transformation. Mother Earth provides the nurturing receptacle that will ignite the life of the seed. But then, the plenipotent* masculine must arise and thrust through the surrounding earth. Only when the masculine and feminine interact synergistically, in perfect symbiosis, will the plant reach its zenith. Metaphorically then, my ideas are created and nurtured in the bountiful Feminine, but need the drive and determination of my action-oriented Masculine to become a tangible product.(Jung named the masculine energy within the woman, the animus)

In creating theotherwomanblog, I have given voice to my desire to be a writer. I am excited, impassioned and fulfilled every time I sit at my computer, and give birth to a new post. This experience is the symbiosis of the feminine and the masculine. Like a great river in nature, ideas flow endlessly, exciting my soul as I venture along this unparalleled creative path. I feel the pounding surge of new life within me, reminiscent of watching my daughters squirm and stretch in utero. But ideas, just like babies, must be born…given the chance to live outside the safety of the womb, the heart, the mind. If the ideas remained in my head, as they did for years, never manifesting into a sharable product… then I would be now as I once was in my old life…near death…like a stagnant river without flow, lacking vitality, gasping for air. Thus is the perfection of creativity! I am fed inwardly, soulfully, while simultaneously feeding and nourishing outwardly, by sharing my product.

Can I Manifest Other Dreams?

I have been trying to universalize my writing experience. Can I live other aspects of my life in a way that feeds my soul, while enriching the souls of others.

Here are just a few of my dreams:

1. I want to design my own garden, ending my reliance on my talented gardener, John.

2. I want to visit Vienna in July, as an empowered woman, open to the riches of the city.

3. I want to write a memoir or novel encapsulating theotherwomanblog experience.

4. I want to cycle Lake Constance in Switzerland.

5. I want to create a workshop, with an accompanying manual, in which I will help women free themselves from captivity…reducing their tendency to capitulate or coerce or kowtow, and instead find the courage to overcome the obstacles to living an impassioned life..

Tending My Garden – Dream #1

A few days ago I asked myself, Between2Marys, what do you hunger for? The answer came quickly. I hunger to create my garden, digging in the earth, planting and caring for all the life that has found its way into my yard…and then the reverie ended and I froze. Here was a clear desire, but where was my confidence to execute it? For 8 years I have watched with envy as my gardener, John, effortlessly designed and created my garden. His work seemed like magic, and beyond my capability. Logically, this was never true. Of course I was capable, but each time I thought about creating my garden, a judgemental, negative voice would descend upon me, leaving me feeling inadequate… not up to the task…forcing me to leave the execution of my dreams to the ‘experts’.

Invoking My Positive Animus

I needed to invoke my newly developed positive animus, to be my helpmate, to act in loving service to me…to help manifest my ideas and ideals. The attributes of the inner masculine include strength, decisiveness and a quality of protectiveness. Embracing this newly developed positive animus, I got in my truck and drove to a Garden centre. Once there, i became overwhelmed and almost drove away. I sat in the truck for 15 minutes until I felt strong. I then walked between rows and rows of plants, until their very presence calmed my anxiety. Step by excruciating step, I began to create my dream. 

New Life

Exhilarating Labour!

Exhilarating Labour!

Tools of the Trade

Making Peace with the “Father Complex”

In this year of theotherwomanblog, I wanted to free the woman within, to give voice to my creativity, ensuring I live with passion and purpose. My newly found voice has come from making peace with my ‘internalized’ man. Through the myriad forces of family, culture and my own actions, I developed a very deleterious, menacing animus. My one-sided, negative view of the masculine nature affected my interactions with men. To me, men were self-serving, emotionally unavailable betrayers.

It is amazing that I ever had dates, let alone marriages! My brutish stance devastated the men I interacted with, as well as leaving me questioning my ability to think or act. This year’s journey has given me the opportunity to examine my early years with my father as well as society’s attitudes towards women. I have dug very deep into the truth of my long held prejudices towards men, ultimately realizing that the perspective I created as a child, no longer served me, the adult woman. 

It is crucial for me to have within my psyche, a devoted, wise and lovingly present animus. Not only will this result in loving relationships with men, but this positive inner energy will give me the strength to realize my dreams!


plenipotent – invested with full power



There can be no transforming of darkness into light without emotion

-Carl Jung

As I move towards the longest night of the year, I am compelled to walk into the inky starless sky, where I fear goblins under bridges and sea creatures under black waves. Feelings deep in my core perturb me…panic ensues and I try to run, but not wildly with the wolves, but cowardly with the jackals. What is this place I meet every year, in December? An internal war begins. Plans for the celebration of Christmas… singing carols, drinking Gluhwein, meeting family and friends… compete with an overwhelming urge to dig myself into a hole, lying in pain, in the dark. So I write a poem…

The Dark I Fear

 You are the wave I cannot stop.

You wash over me

You drag me under

You engulf my very soul.

 You are the wound I cannot staunch.

You bleed my pain

You ooze my libido

You thief of joy and hope.

 Your presence surrounds me like a gas.

I have no choice  but to inhale.








 I weep the tears of the broken.

-Between2Marys December 2012

This fall, in an effort to create the life I desire, I put out a feeler to see if other writers in my area wanted to form a group. I wanted to meet with fellow ‘scribblers’ who shared my passion for creating, using the written word. Happily, I had a group of 8 almost instantly. My expectation was that we would be an encouraging and supportive environment.

After our first meeting in November, I happily added this group of writers to my list of those I alert via email, when I have launched a new post. I began this mailout in July 2012, a few weeks into The Other Woman Blog, for 2 reasons…first and most importantly, I wanted to share the real me with my friends, in an effort to end the life I had lived, under the umbrella of the persona. This was a huge risk, as I was ‘coming out’, vulnerable and naked, without the veneer of bravado and pretence. The second reason was less personal, but equally important to me. I wanted an audience, so I began to create a readership. This number has tripled in size since July when I began…WOW! (although if I only had 2 readers then, I’d have 6 now)…Conclusive statements from statisticians can so easily mislead…( NOTE as soon as I veer into the left brain, waxing on about  ‘statisticians’ …get suspicious, I’m avoiding…I’m more comfortable here than in the pain of existence) I’m embarrassed to admit how a trivial trigger spiralled me into the world of the dispirited, the disheartened, the disenchanted.

Here is the trigger…one comment I received back from my mailout to my writers’ group contained 8 simple words and a period. “I would rather not receive your blog updates.”

These 8 words and a period hurt my feelings deeply. I was drawn back to my sighting of the Canada Goose, shot through her foot by an arrow, that I had encountered on a walk in Week 21 of 52. When I had come upon her in the grasses, I had identified with her desperation but at the time I could not understand why. In my anthropomorphisation of her, I imagined her soaring alone with ease and confidence, doing what she was born to do. I then imagined her shock at being assaulted by the arrow of a heartless hunter. With her foot thus impaled, her demise became almost inevitable… By chance she was struck and by chance she might be saved.

I wanted to ignore the comment’s impact, by laughing it off or retaliating. I tried to prevent my tumble into the dark by listing everything I was grateful for, and when that didn’t work, I tried distracting myself with a French Mystery Series while eating calming carbs… but eventually I succumbed to the negative power of this force. In this black hole, I give up on my life…I stop writing and creating art, I stop having fun, and certainly stop all encounters with D! I pretend to be living. I smile, I talk, I act quite involved…but the real person has disappeared. I stop expressing from my heart and soul. The soaring bird has been quelled.

Injured Canada Goose

Injured Canada Goose

Why would this simple request from a fellow writer send me into a dispirited and hopeless place. It would only have this power if it was reminiscent of a deeply hurtful time in my childhood.

Childhood Memories

Childhood Memories

In December I feel vulnerable, as this season opens the ‘yet to be healed’ wounds of my youth, where my expectations for family joy and harmony were crushed by the dark reality of family unpredictability and chaos. Although The Other Woman Blog has allowed me to return to the soulful and hopeful person I once was, by letting me express aspects of myself that have remained buried beneath a pile of human dung, flung from adults behaving poorly, at this moment I am susceptible to judgement.



I am in the dark right now, feeling the pain of the shunned soul. So now I will freely shed the tears of the child, knowing I will be comforted by my stronger self and all the other souls on earth who have felt like misfits in an incomprehensible world.  Wounding words of judgement, hurled by the weak, are flimsy barriers to our wildly creative selves. So for Week 23 of 52, I will let my painful emotions surface, having faith that through this release the darkness will lift, permitting the lights of Christmas to shine.

Emotion-Bringing Light to the Dark

Emotion-Bringing Light to the Dark

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