House Sitting Opportunities In Sarasota Florida
House Sitting Opportunities In Sarasota Florida
The Eagle & The Vulture; Two Archetypal Bird Dreams
When a comrade is too extremely embedded in the collective, outer
detail of everyday life, the discovery in his or her posses dreams of
universal, archetypal images .
can be a freeing experience.
(Jungian Dream Interpretation Hall, 114)
In the world of archetypal symbolism birds in our dreams often gesticulate a consecrated endeavor.
After all, they fly above us, closer to the heavens than we normally find ourselves.
Their scope looks exhilarating.
In the thing of a jet where we might find ourselves flying faster and higher than birds, we still deprivation flexible air, the wind in our hair so-to-speak, and we’re confined in mostly meagre seats amongst supplementary people, who reasonably than lifting their arms entrained in synch with ours, are coughing, eating, sleeping, working, or looking further concerned than carefree.
Therefore when we fondle our fine feathered friends in dreams, we consider the context of course, but often reckon of the heights and freedom of the spirit.
Of a very immense species, unless we are ornithologist, we chiefly label the birds we see in dreams generally.
Two noted dreams I had at a instance of blessed apprenticeship in my life delivered messages about two abnormal paths due to the differences in the winged creatures and the situations in which they appeared.
Yet both dreams appeared to pledge worthwhile journeys.
I had been steeped in moan when a reverie lifted me out of my misery partly immediately.
At the time of the dram I had not been a savant of daydream work, but even in my relative ignorance, I could stroke that the dram was a blessing.
As background information, agreement me territory again that I had mislaid my father in adolescence.
When I was thirteen he suffered a jittery breakdown and when I was fifteen he died of a self-administered overdose of drugs.
He was a doctor, so I often wondered if he had intentionally bygone his life.
Another applicable reality relating to this name in my heirs life was that my mother told my siblings and I that he died of a core attack.
In her obtain rouse and pain, she soldiered on, never visibly mourning, so that we did not manifest our grief either.
I grew up with a certain enquiry about my father’s death but I kept it to myself and repressed what heart I had about those two heavy years.
I was reasonable becoming a peeress and my advent into womanhood was stagy by what I had witnessed, a genial of stillness and sometimes not-so-quiet desperation in my father.
I began to reap boyfriends and later, men friends, who would abandon me and I often reacted with some mad end-of-the-world responses to the termination of these relationships.
By the point that my bird dreams occurred, I intellectually unstated that my reactions to the loss of a person were irrational and at times, out of proportion to the seriousness or need thereof, of the relationship.
I “knew” that my unarticulated grief for my father surfaced and more exacerbated my comprehend of loss.
Knowing however, didn’t backing the heart to subside.
So when in my mid thirties, I was suffering from the betrayal of a comrade I had been uncommonly jovial with, I didn’t seek out traditional therapy, having recent through five years of that a few years back after a divorce.
One day a friend suggested I see her astrologer who lived on an island in Casco Bay, exterior of Portland, Maine where I was living.
I liked the concept of crossing the water, an archetypal argument in itself, to find some answers as to why my grief was inconsolable.
I sat on the ferry at ten in the morning, smoking a cigarette.
In those days I’d misplaced my appetite for meals and I lived on cigarettes and leap water.
The pronounced October vista hurt me with its gorgeous auburn leaves and cerulean sky and the sensitive contrasting colors stabbed at my eyes like an insult, the complete aspect somehow provocative of my missing happiness.
A day for lovers, I thought.
Whatever the weather, during that tiring time, I seemed to turn each day into another instigation to mourn.
The beautiful outlook of churning black blue moisten wrapped around the speckled islands of the bay only made me endure my loneliness other intensely.
In my self-contained universe, every song on the radio seemed designed to bear back the crest of my lover, our visionary ritual of dancing in his living room.
I wallowed in memories.
Images played through my attitude like some dopey refrain of the rural music he’d introduced me to and yet, entirely the wailing pastoral diva myself, I kept bringing them back in behest to ask myself why it maltreat so much.
Was it fair the bovines cliché, betrayal, jealousy, poison and disfavour I felt, or was it truly losing the fabric of this wonderful individual from my life that caused me this irrepressible grief? I was convinced of the latter.
Some things you logical know.
As I debarked from the bottom and rancid on foot up one of the unpaved roads of the island, my sour was past but the grief puddled up in my thing so that only the consistent pulse of my sighs, like the whitecaps, one after another washing castigate the boat, could convince me I was inert living.
As clueless as the gaping gulls who waddled toward me in chase of a hand-out, I had crossed the dampen to find an answer.
Once on the island, I followed the twists in the dirt road according to a scribbled map, my goggle haggard from the street symbols to the heathen flower gardens, the slatted fences and yards littered with tricycles and lawn chairs even this delayed in the season.
The weeds which had begun to overtake the gardens seemed to tang of decay.
I entered Mary Alice’s screened-in porch and rang the bell.
Though I doubted I would find any solace in the reading, I was curious as to what she could natter without knowing me or my situation at all.
Yet within my two hour meeting this lovely and adept astrologer, a shrewd woman and mistress of metaphor, was able to grant me explanations about the fragile department of my psyche that made additional perceive than the cognitive I'd worked through in my therapy.
Her peak token of me was that my hands were stuck in a Chinese puzzle.
The other I tried to wiggle them out, the fresh I found them locked up.
Without getting too technical, I’ll just gibber that she showed me how two extremely intense planetary transits were at afafir affecting my moon or emotions, and Venus, my relationship life.
She advised me to smartly surrender, to sit in my rocking chair by the fire, drinking tea with my favorite shroud around my shoulders, playing my saddest country arias allowing myself to descend into the divine gulch of loss— (the answer spell here is divine) “Until you are lifted out,” she said.
“And you leave be lifted out.
” She peered at me seriously; “And when you are, you bequeath become someone totally new.
On the collective level, Pluto, the planet of ruination and riches, had just entered the symbol of Scorpio where it would remain for the succeeding twelve years.
She explained that in postscript to my personal plight, the macrocosm was making an racy shift itself and that as we came closer to the millennium, many persons were tapping into an awakening.
Humanity itself was gearing up for a major evolutionary leap, one which would bring many years to become apparent.
Oh yeah, the musical Age of Aquarius, I thought, remembering the sixties dulcet Hair.
So how come I’m miserable? She said my core had chosen this particular influence and would be gap to a new purpose but first, thanks to Pluto's renovation technique, it needful to be stripped of emotional dependencies, so that I would learn the true temperament of love, which was unconditional.
She explained that I had three planets in the eighth house, the ordinary home for Pluto.
Later, itemizing about Pluto I came across this instance by the eminent Jungian-Astrologer Liz Greene: "If there are many planets in the eighth, the the companion must learn to look darkness in the appearance (85).
I didn’t really presume much astrology then, but I did sense that I had a loaded eighth abode and that mythically, the genealogy is often the means into transformation and I belief of the poet Dante in his threatening woods, the fabled report of Persephone’s abduction, Odysseus' cruise to Hades and the many literary figures and writers who went to the underworld before returning with new education to deliver to the upper world.
I was furthermore aware of the many poets who never rose from their descent: Plath, Sexton, Berryman, Crane, and so many of the French writers I’d studied in college, as well as my posses father.
Mary Alice’s astrological key for my crisis clicked intuitively in a means I couldn’t explain.
As psycho-babbly as these astrological terms (“Pluto square, Saturn transit”) sounded to me at the time, I sensed there was object additional profound at work.
My recognize of loss was halfway disproportional to the detail of the event.
Among more things I politic about my chart that day was the actuality that I had been born to dodge my father and with each new loss, the original belief of loss was triggered.
My stricken mother had simply gone on when my father died.
With her four progeny in tow, she never allowed herself or us to collectively grieve.
It was a different era back in 1963.
President Kennedy death preceded by father’s by three weeks and in a style we were already grieving.
My mother did what she concept was the remedy thing.
Put one foot in front of the fresh and play forward.
But I conviction I had worked through the themes of the gone father in my therapy during the years of my divorce.
To my dismay I found out that Saturn, the Patriarchal Father, was the mikadokaiser of my particular astrological chart and both my Pluto and my Saturn, as well as Mars, the planet of war and will, were located in the eighth house, the native accommodation of Scorpio, the most intense and emotional sign.
I remembered markedly the night my father died.
A detective had come to the door with his hat and coat.
My mother stood at the fortification on the stairs and told us our father had had an accident and died of a kernel attack.
I remembered remarkably three vocabulary surfacing in my head: “he’s killed himself.
” Even at fifteen, my posses illiterate intuited the truth I didn’t actually identify until I was twenty-nine.
On the cruise back to the mainland, I felt for the best point since the breakup as if my emotional and mental sector might now make some sense.
Somehow believing in a sanctified salvage and atonement was the most heartening impression I had heard in many months and I had learned the produce of the “Pluto square” was to pronounced away what was not “serving” my “higher purpose.
” I was, wholly simply, in hell.
Incarcerated by the classical God Hades, deep in the sphere of hopelessness and loss.
Another expression for the sovereign of subterranean spaces was “Plutus” which means “riches.
” Treasures and resurrections were further associated with Pluto.
What I didn’t sense at that situation was how remarkably crave the trip would take to yield these treasures.
But shortly thereafter, in earnest, I was lifted out by a major archetypal dream.
I admitted it as eminent by the numinosity of the images and the quality of emotional intensity it left me with.
I am motile on the beach with a kid colleen who is in my care.
She is cranky and nagging me.
I find her to be a real pain in the snog .
At some atom she steps on a twig and gets a splinter in her foot.
I try to get the splinter out, and as I do, it flies from my hands, boomeranging out and then back into her forehead, hitting her redress between her eyes.
Now I am truly concerned about her because the splinter has become a wedge as gigantic as a meat cleaver.
I go to pull it out again but when I unchain it from her head, her probe splits open in aseptic uncommonly surreal planes and out flies a huge bird.
The two remarkably cubically neat halves of her head commune back into cubby-hole as the eagle flaps its ponderous wings and flies above and around us.
We clutch each fresh squealing and laughing in awe of the bird’s power, play like giddy young girls and I caress a deep passion this girl.
This dream was a tremendous release.
I wasn't sure of all the implications but I knew the bird I didn't absence any share of was me at thirteen or fourteen, that it spoke of an youngster wound, most likely my father's death, and that out of this girl's pain had come a huge bird.
It seemed to me the nick of abandoning boyfriend and the wound of the father were overlaid and had thrown me back to the bird who had never healed, who lived with this young now improve between the eyes.
Depending on the genus, birds are often associated with the spiritual world, the heavens, although some like the owl, albatross or raven are associated with further dissension augury.
But this miss was a gigantic eagle with an ponderous wingspan and what I felt from the sign of it flapping its wings was the sheer physical tightness of its body.
It was the ecstasy of witnessing that huge, muscular phenomenon and viewpoint the tightness of its wings that delighted me and the issue fantasy girl.
It is strenuous to convey the fascination and delight we felt in watching the enormity of that bird manage off.
The American and Native American quantity of the eagle is germane to celestial omnipotence.
Furthermore, the eagle is associated with the sun's power.
It is Zeus's person in Greek myths, and to the Christian mystics, is a cipher of Christ's ascension, “ .
further an feature of John the Evangelist .
Jung regards the eagle as a father symbol.
” (Imagine my surprise!!!) (The Herder Symbol Dictionary 63) I found even fresh synchronistic meaning in J.
Cooper's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols: “ .
emancipate from bondage .
Alchemic: The soaring eagle is the liberated slice of the prima materia .
resurrection and the new life in baptism: the core renewed by loveliness “ (italics mine).
In the dream there was a transformation and the commander wound was instantaneously healed.
It was only closing that I realized in Freudian psychology that the foot cleft is a sexual wound, the Oedipal nick from the father.
In the facts of Oedipus, the young lad is shackled to a rock with a pin through his foot, left to die from exposure.
Freud associated Oedipus' foot with the phallus, as his crime closing in life is to unconsciously leave incest and beget issue with his mother/wife.
His father had wounded his foot and after Oedipus escapes and is adopted, he grows up and unknowingly kills his authentic father.
The offspring girl's splinter or foot incision becomes a cut in her head, an unaware complex.
When the offensive thing is released, the sanctified tenacity flies out in the cave of the eagle.
The alchemical gold of transformation is in the govern of depression, as the lass is in the whining adolescent's head.
I felt so glaring and relieved that I actually concept my trauma was now over.
I felt I had arrived on the new level.
Was this the “lifting out” Mary Alice had predicted? You bequeath be someone new.
This is not to chat there weren't recurring relapses into sorrow and further pining, but I felt I had a leg up from the abysmal hole of depression I'd lived in for so long.
A few days after the dram I picked up a poem by the Hungarian poet Miraslav Holub and read the lines You ask the answer, it is but one word-Again.
As I study these speaking I realized I wanted to go back into therapy.
Driving to a minor seacoast town an hour away, I began going twice a week for two hour and a half sessions with Winona, a petite lady who grew up in New England and had just returned after spending twenty or so years in Belgium and Switzerland where she trained at the C.
Jung Institute in Kusnacht, appearance Zurich.
By this juncture my ex and I had sold and split the proceeds of our house.
I bought the beach condo and used some of the cash for analysis.
Due to the intensity of three analytic hours a week, during this circle of therapy, my dreams both descended from the heavens and rose like steam from the underworld and I could not guide them quick enough.
Nor could I stop writing poems.
It was a tremendously introspective but fruitful time.
It's said that the early dreams in an analysis thicken the themes for the full analysis and so it was in my posses experience.
Here is my elite vision (with another bird) where I think I found a new scenery of myself and the assignment I had to do.
I am on a beautiful beach.
It is the form of my neighborhood beach but
much further tropical other like the beach in New Zealand which I recently
axiom on the postcard I received from a dear friend.
I am mobile with my son
and we see in the distance, motile towards us, an invalid gentlewoman wearing a
babushka and flying a kite.
My eight year old son is excited to squeeze the kite.
As the obsolete woman approaches us, she looks me limp in the eye and holds
out her arm to workman me the kite string.
My son is jumping up and down,
trying to catch it.
As I look up at the kite itself, I directive it is not an inanimate
item but a live vulture that the void peeress is flying on a leash.
I back away
from her, shaking my master No .
No, I don't privation anything to do with a
But my young son jumps up and down aphorism “Take it Mom,
Please take it.
” I keep shaking my probe and aid away, pulling him
away until I danger the eye of the void peeress again and she nods at me as if to
say, “Honey, you'd reform bear this vulture.
It belongs to you.
Most of us identify and identify the vulture as the girl who feeds on the dead.
But what I didn't see at the point was the significance of the vulture as a character of underworld wisdom.
It was consecrated to the Egyptians as a guardian of the entrance between life and death.
In a Jungian sense, the symbol came from the collective unconscious, a bulky archetypal image, universally comprehended as an union with the dead.
Again, the amount dictionaries emphasized interpretations synchronistic to my particular experience.
“Since it eats carrion and transforms it into vital energy, the vulture .
knows the secret of the transformation of worthless relevant into gold.
” (Herder, 211) And “Ambivalent as maternal solicitude, cover and shelter, and as death-dealing havoc and voracity.
All vultures were belief to be peeress and symbolized the feminine teaching with the market as masculine (italics mine) .
As a scavenger the vulture represented purification, a workman of good.
In Egypt it represented the Mother Goddess, maternity and love, Isis having hypothetical the form of a vulture” (Cooper).
I had had two maiden dreams, one with the father's cut which transforms to a powerful inner virile cipher and one with a crone, a shrewd inner feminine associated with the Egyptian Mother Goddess, Isis.
Consciously, in my quotidian life, I had no instigation for having dreamt these symbols.
I was confidential with neither at the circumstance of the dreams.
These were “big dreams,” with collective notation which came at a instance of crisis.
With the help of my analyst, I took the vulture daydream in two ways.
I was feasibly lifted out of my minatory covert but by no method had I put my despair late me.
It was instance to mine this underworld and come to grips with its contents.
As the kingdom of the dead, it further constituted the system of my father.
I knew I must go back and look at how I had integrated the refusal party of my father.
My heirs son's sentiment in the dream, his excitement and vigour to carry on the vulture, to charter it fly as his own pet, showed in Jung's terms, my family animus or my newly reborn creative virile side, eager and capable of handling this material.
I must ensue the vulture.
And the invalid lady, whom I associated to my Polish grandmother, a pious and spiritually judicious immigrant with an abiding faith in the supernatural-she was the archetypal Wise Old Woman.
What had become of the hag, the gloomy company of the Great Mother? Foolishly, I belief she was former for good.
I didn't recall then that in times of new emotional setbacks which carried repressed embitter or fear, she would reappear again, often in the lair of a bag lady.
But for now, I was thrilled to posses an older female as an inner mentor, a crone.
I moreover had her in Winona, who was far from crone-looking but older and wiser than I in the creation of dreams.
But this former lady in the fantasy was also a inactive quota of me, the part that was wiser than my ego, who I concept I was, what I concept I needed, that narrow area to which we issue ourselves from our unique egoic perception.
I learned not to trust the ego's status in the dream.
The conscious self did not absence the vulture; the ignorant animus, my son, was raring to bear it on! With Winona's help, I could see from the politic woman's perspective that she knew ameliorate than my name did.
The dram clicked in the specific behest of my new “path.
” Dream task seemed a best individual to poetry, my chosen field.
I’ve been immersed in the imagery of both ever since.
Cooper, An Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Traditional Symbols.
London: Thames and Hudson, Ltd.
Hall, James, Jungian Dream Interpretation, Toronto: Inner City Books, 1983