I want to take you back to the time, now 6 years ago, when a force moved through me so insufferable it nearly blasted me into another timeline. My friend Julia was reminding me of that force the other day. She shook her head slowly with a coy smile, “it was truly something. You were really something.”
I was something. I was something I had never felt before. And it was too much at the time.
This is what I know to be true: the feminine, without a solid container, will become reckless like a ship at sea, torn sails, and a drunk at the helm with a gold tooth that glimmers the promise of paradise and a rescue.
Jungian theory offers the view that within the woman there is an animus - the inner masculine counterpart to her external feminine expression. If a woman's animus is undeveloped, immature, resentful, a bitter scared boy, a cartoon fool, a hell-raiser and so on you get the picture, the feminine force within her will not be grounded in her true power.
In my opinion, in this day and age, most women are scared shitless of their true power because the ‘Father’ image in our world has become so demented and none of us were truly raised properly. He is either callous and rigid, or neglectful and immature. This is not about blaming literal fathers. It does not have to be so personal. More like, the Man of the Earth has been so beaten, subdued, and poisoned that he has forgotten what he is devoted to. And so She has wandered, looking outside of herself, hungry to find the true robust foundation she needs within. But through the young woman’s eyes, not truly held and fathered, she cannot see how she bargains her power away until it explodes in her face.
From the cracks of her unstable form, the Dark Mother must ooze through. It is this Mother who causes chaos and life-altering moments where one is brought to their knees. It is with this ‘Mother’ that we will either finally touch the truth, or we will remain victimized by her. And if the latter, the merry-go-round continues.
I will tell you part of my story of how I’ve come to know this as true.
At the time he was my everything. We met in high school. He looked at me one day, he was drawing the anatomical sketch of a heart in his notebook and he said, “I think I will make you my girlfriend.”
And I said, “okay.”
It was the perfect key to lock into place just what I was so desperately needing to hear: You’re mine. I want you.