Jung had a cute way of putting it

Jung had a cute way of putting it.
In every male psyche, he said, is a female part
mostly unconscious, both witch and goddess,
acting as the muse.
The Anima he called it.

Once, a teaching story said, a man was raw with existential undoing.
Lightning had stuck his tower, the moat of his castle had been breached,
the time had come for the gods to make their appearance
or the man to disappear.

With the sincerity of Kierkegaard’s Purity of Heart
that wills one thing,
a sincerity only achievable when the castle walls have crumbled,
he gazed into the deep, black pools of his lover’s eyes
filled with stars.

Formulating his one question to summarize all the
riddles of existence
and the unveiling of the impenetrable mystery,
he rallied his naked courage
to ask a heart-felt question –
Who are you?

But the words transformed themselves along the way,
utterly surprising him
as he heard the question come out sounding like –
Who am I?

Words are such tricky things.

With a mind turned inside out:
all the stars are on the inside,
the Anima is seen as nothing but awareness,
the unconscious mind – is not.

Such is the tale.
Jung had a cute way of putting it.

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