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´╗┐The Eagle & The Vulture; Two Archetypal Bird Dreams Deborah DeNicola When a partner is too deeply embedded in the collective, outer gospel of everyday life, the discovery in his or her obtain dreams of universal, archetypal images .
can be a freeing experience.

(Jungian Dream Interpretation Hall, 114) In the cosmos of archetypal symbolism birds in our dreams often signal a consecrated endeavor.
After all, they fly above us, closer to the heavens than we normally find ourselves.

Their parallel looks exhilarating.
In the body of a jet where we might find ourselves flying faster and higher than birds, we inactive lack receptive air, the wind in our hair so-to-speak, and we’re confined in mainly derisory seats amongst fresh people, who quite than lifting their arms entrained in synch with ours, are coughing, eating, sleeping, working, or looking additional concerned than carefree.

Therefore when we caress our fine feathered friends in dreams, we consider the context of course, but often suppose of the heights and price of the spirit.

Of a uncommonly immense species, unless we are ornithologist, we largely ticket the birds we see in dreams generally.

Two revered dreams I had at a case of blessed traineeship 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 promise worthwhile journeys.

* I had been steeped in moan when a dream lifted me out of my misery halfway immediately.

At the circumstance of the vision I had not been a academic of reverie work, but even in my relative ignorance, I could fondle that the reverie was a blessing.
As background information, contract me sector again that I had gone 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 elapsed his life.

Another pertinent gospel relating to this interval in my offspring life was that my mother told my siblings and I that he died of a centre attack.
In her own shock and pain, she soldiered on, never visibly mourning, so that we did not demonstrate our grief either.
I grew up with a certain doubt about my father’s death but I kept it to myself and repressed what heart I had about those two tiring years.

I was logical becoming a noblewoman and my advent into womanhood was posed by what I had witnessed, a kind of calmness and sometimes not-so-quiet desperation in my father.
I began to collect boyfriends and later, men friends, who would vacate me and I often reacted with some maniacal end-of-the-world responses to the termination of these relationships.

By the case that my bird dreams occurred, I intellectually implicit that my reactions to the loss of a man were irrational and at times, out of rate to the seriousness or deficiency thereof, of the relationship.
I “knew” that my unarticulated grief for my father surfaced and other exacerbated my comprehend of loss.

Knowing however, didn’t offices the love to subside.

So when in my mid thirties, I was suffering from the betrayal of a individual I had been extraordinary mirthful with, I didn’t seek out traditional therapy, having ended through five years of that a few years back after a divorce.

One day a man suggested I see her astrologer who lived on an island in Casco Bay, frontage of Portland, Maine where I was living.
I liked the opinion 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 absent my appetite for meals and I lived on cigarettes and bounce water.
The pronounced October vista abuse me with its gorgeous auburn leaves and cerulean sky and the open contrasting colors stabbed at my eyes like an insult, the complete scenery somehow provocative of my missing happiness.

A day for lovers, I thought.

Whatever the weather, during that difficult time, I seemed to turn each day into another actuation to mourn.

The beautiful vista of churning minatory blue soak wrapped around the speckled islands of the bay only made me fondle my loneliness supplementary intensely.

In my self-contained universe, every song on the radio seemed designed to take back the sign of my lover, our perfectionist ritual of dancing in his living room.
I wallowed in memories.

Images played through my temper like some dopey refrain of the idyllic music he’d introduced me to and yet, totally the wailing georgic diva myself, I kept bringing them back in edict to ask myself why it hurt so much.
Was it fair the beasts cliché, betrayal, jealousy, sour and dishonour I felt, or was it truly losing the structure of this wonderful individual from my life that caused me this irrepressible grief? I was convinced of the latter.
Some things you impartial know.
As I debarked from the boat and gamy on foot up one of the unpaved roads of the island, my embitter was recent but the grief puddled up in my object so that only the consistent tempo of my sighs, like the whitecaps, one after another washing castigate the boat, could convince me I was torpid living.
As clueless as the gaping gulls who waddled toward me in pursuit 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 ogle haggard from the street symbols to the heathen flower gardens, the slatted fences and yards littered with tricycles and lawn chairs even this late in the season.

The weeds which had begun to overtake the gardens seemed to aroma 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 talk without knowing me or my point at all.
Yet within my two hour meeting this lovely and accomplished astrologer, a prudent lady and mistress of metaphor, was able to present me explanations about the fragile department of my psyche that made more comprehend than the analytical I'd worked through in my therapy.

Her elite emblem of me was that my hands were stuck in a Chinese puzzle.

The more I tried to wiggle them out, the other I found them locked up.
Without receipt too technical, I’ll fair prate that she showed me how two extremely intense planetary transits were at activity affecting my moon or emotions, and Venus, my relationship life.

She advised me to wittily surrender, to sit in my rocking chair by the fire, drinking tea with my favorite overlay around my shoulders, playing my saddest innocent arias allowing myself to descend into the religious ravine of loss— (the answer interval here is divine) “Until you are lifted out,” she said.

“And you entrust be lifted out.

” She peered at me seriously; “And when you are, you commit become someone quite new.
” On the collective level, Pluto, the planet of devastation and riches, had equitable entered the symbol of Scorpio where it would remain for the subsequent twelve years.

She explained that in addendum to my personal plight, the system was manufacture an racy shift itself and that as we came closer to the millennium, many people were tapping into an awakening.
Humanity itself was gearing up for a major evolutionary leap, one which would transact many years to become apparent.

Oh yeah, the mellifluous Age of Aquarius, I thought, remembering the sixties melodic Hair.
So how come I’m miserable? She said my pith had chosen this particular impression and would be breach to a new purpose but first, thanks to Pluto's renovation technique, it obligatory to be stripped of emotional dependencies, so that I would learn the true mind of love, which was unconditional.
She explained that I had three planets in the eighth house, the normal home for Pluto.
Later, saying about Pluto I came across this name by the famous Jungian-Astrologer Liz Greene: "If there are many planets in the eighth, the the partner must learn to look darkness in the face (85).
I didn’t really presume much astrology then, but I did comprehend that I had a loaded eighth accommodation and that mythically, the parentage is often the way into transformation and I concept of the poet Dante in his black woods, the allegorical data of Persephone’s abduction, Odysseus' travels to Hades and the many literary figures and writers who went to the underworld before returning with new enlightenment to deliver to the upper world.

I was further 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 obtain father.
Mary Alice’s astrological key for my crisis clicked intuitively in a way 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 something other profound at work.
My perceive of loss was nearly disproportional to the actuality of the event.

Among other things I prudent about my chart that day was the gospel that I had been born to lose my father and with each new loss, the original dogma of loss was triggered.

My stricken mother had neatly former on when my father died.

With her four heirs 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 practice we were already grieving.
My mother did what she belief was the redress thing.
Put one foot in sway of the supplementary and play forward.

But I thought I had worked through the themes of the mislaid father in my therapy during the years of my divorce.

To my stun I found out that Saturn, the Patriarchal Father, was the sovereign 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 dwelling 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 trilby and coat.

My mother stood at the fortification on the stairs and told us our father had had an accident and died of a soul attack.
I remembered strikingly three language surfacing in my head: “he’s killed himself.
” Even at fifteen, my have unschooled intuited the gospel I didn’t actually pinpoint until I was twenty-nine.

On the travels back to the mainland, I felt for the elite point since the breakup as if my emotional and mental domain might now make some sense.

Somehow believing in a religious reclamation and reclamation was the most heartening thought I had heard in many months and I had shrewd the produce of the “Pluto square” was to striking away what was not “serving” my “higher purpose.

” I was, quite simply, in hell.
Incarcerated by the classical God Hades, deep in the section of melancholy and loss.

Another term for the king of subterranean spaces was “Plutus” which manner “riches.

” Treasures and resurrections were further associated with Pluto.
What I didn’t understand at that circumstance was how remarkably inclination the journey would take to yield these treasures.

But shortly thereafter, in earnest, I was lifted out by a major archetypal dream.
I recognized it as great by the numinosity of the images and the grade of emotional intensity it left me with.
I am animated on the beach with a kid schoolgirl who is in my care.

She is cranky and nagging me.

I find her to be a genuine pain in the smooch .
At some spot she steps on a twig and gets a splinter in her foot.

I try to procure the splinter out, and as I do, it flies from my hands, boomeranging out and then back into her forehead, hitting her repair between her eyes.

Now I am truly concerned about her because the splinter has become a wedge as lofty as a meat cleaver.
I go to pull it out again but when I liberate it from her head, her leader splits bright in unpolluted thumping surreal planes and out flies a gigantic bird.

The two extremely cubically neat halves of her commander fold back into calling as the eagle flaps its massive wings and flies above and around us.

We clutch each further squealing and laughing in awe of the bird’s power, dramaturgy like giddy progeny girls and I perceive a deep emotions this girl.
This reverie was a tremendous release.

I wasn't sure of all the implications but I knew the bird I didn't privation 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 gash of abandoning lover and the cut of the father were overlaid and had thrown me back to the maiden who had never healed, who lived with this heirs now right between the eyes.

Depending on the genus, birds are often associated with the sanctified world, the heavens, although some like the owl, albatross or raven are associated with other contradiction augury.

But this bird was a gigantic eagle with an hefty wingspan and what I felt from the crest of it flapping its wings was the sheer physical tightness of its body.

It was the exaltation of witnessing that huge, muscular entity and feeling the tightness of its wings that delighted me and the children dream girl.
It is laborious to convey the fascination and gratification we felt in watching the enormity of that maiden bring off.
The American and Native American symbol of the eagle is relevant 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 quantity of Christ's ascension, “ .
also an facet of John the Evangelist .
Jung regards the eagle as a father symbol.
” (Imagine my surprise!!!) (The Herder Symbol Dictionary 63) I found even other synchronistic meaning in J.
Cooper's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols: “ .
release from bondage .
Alchemic: The soaring eagle is the liberated allowance of the prima materia .
resurrection and the new life in baptism: the nucleus renewed by allure “ (italics mine).
In the fantasy there was a transformation and the captain cut was instantaneously healed.

It was only second that I realized in Freudian psychology that the foot incision is a sexual wound, the Oedipal nick from the father.
In the information of Oedipus, the baby kid 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 second in life is to unconsciously will incest and beget heirs with his mother/wife.

His father had wounded his foot and after Oedipus escapes and is adopted, he grows up and unknowingly kills his actual father.
The family girl's splinter or foot wound becomes a cut in her head, an unschooled complex.
When the affronting object is released, the sanctified force flies out in the form of the eagle.

The alchemical gold of transformation is in the vanguard of depression, as the colleen is in the whining adolescent's head.

I felt so marked and thankful that I actually notion my trauma was now over.
I felt I had arrived on the new level.
Was this the “lifting out” Mary Alice had predicted? You commit be someone new.
This is not to chat there weren't recurring relapses into groan and fresh pining, but I felt I had a leg up from the abysmal quarry of despair 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 scan the lines You ask the answer, it is but one word-Again.

As I peruse these speaking I realized I wanted to go back into therapy.

Driving to a trifling 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 reciprocal after spending twenty or so years in Belgium and Switzerland where she homely at the C.
Jung Institute in Kusnacht, frontage Zurich.
By this circumstance my ex and I had sold and split the proceeds of our house.

I bought the beach condo and used some of the pecuniary for analysis.

Due to the intensity of three analytic hours a week, during this orbit of therapy, my dreams both descended from the heavens and rose like steam from the underworld and I could not record them rapid enough.
Nor could I discontinue writing poems.

It was a tremendously introspective but fruitful time.

2 It's verbal that the early dreams in an analysis coagulate the themes for the whole analysis and so it was in my have experience.

Here is my best dram (with another bird) where I believe I found a new outlook of myself and the undertaking I had to do.
I am on a beautiful beach.
It is the shape of my neighborhood beach but much fresh tropical more like the beach in New Zealand which I recently maxim on the postcard I received from a dear friend.

I am walking with my son and we see in the distance, animated towards us, an lapsed woman wearing a babushka and flying a kite.

My eight year terminated son is excited to nuzzle the kite.

As the old woman approaches us, she looks me lustreless 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 something but a live vulture that the expired duchess is flying on a leash.
I back away from her, shaking my head No .
No, I don't deficiency anything to do with a vulture.

But my family son jumps up and down axiom “Take it Mom, Please bear it.

” I own shaking my master and aegis away, pulling him away until I peril the eye of the invalid duchess again and she nods at me as if to say, “Honey, you'd improve take this vulture.

It's yours.

It belongs to you.
” Most of us spot and recognize the vulture as the schoolgirl who feeds on the dead.

But what I didn't see at the circumstance was the significance of the vulture as a amount of underworld wisdom.
It was consecrated to the Egyptians as a guardian of the doorway between life and death.
In a Jungian sense, the crest came from the collective unconscious, a weighty archetypal image, universally comprehended as an partnership with the dead.

Again, the unit dictionaries emphasized interpretations synchronistic to my particular experience.

“Since it eats carrion and transforms it into required energy, the vulture .
knows the mystery of the transformation of worthless material into gold.

” (Herder, 211) And “Ambivalent as maternal solicitude, lee and shelter, and as death-dealing havoc and voracity.

All vultures were thought to be gentlewoman and symbolized the feminine conviction with the tout as mainly (italics mine) .
As a scavenger the vulture represented purification, a hand of good.

In Egypt it represented the Mother Goddess, maternity and love, Isis having hypothetical the sett of a vulture” (Cooper).
I had had two lass dreams, one with the father's nick which transforms to a formidable inner masculine unit and one with a crone, a sensible inner feminine associated with the Egyptian Mother Goddess, Isis.

Consciously, in my quotidian life, I had no inducement for having dreamt these symbols.

I was recognized with neither at the time of the dreams.

These were “big dreams,” with collective hieroglyphics which came at a occasion of crisis.

With the support of my analyst, I took the vulture dram in two ways.

I was feasibly lifted out of my sinisteru form but by no style had I put my hopelessness slow me.

It was circumstance to mine this underworld and come to grips with its contents.

As the discipline of the dead, it furthermore constituted the cosmos of my father.
I knew I must go back and look at how I had integrated the refusal party of my father.
My successors son's feeling in the dream, his excitement and enthusiasm to bring on the vulture, to let it fly as his hold pet, showed in Jung's terms, my progeny animus or my newly reborn creative masculine side, eager and capable of handling this material.
I must materialize the vulture.

And the former lady, whom I associated to my Polish grandmother, a pious and spiritually intelligent immigrant with an surviving faith in the supernatural-she was the archetypal Wise Old Woman.

What had become of the hag, the minatory band of the Great Mother? Foolishly, I opinion she was preceding for good.

I didn't spot then that in times of new emotional setbacks which carried repressed disillusion or fear, she would reappear again, often in the earth 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 globe of dreams.

But this obsolete noblewoman in the dream was furthermore a inactive measure of me, the allowance that was wiser than my ego, who I idea I was, what I concept I needed, that narrow compass to which we budget ourselves from our unique egoic perception.

I wise not to trust the ego's station in the dream.
The conscious self did not deficiency the vulture; the illiterate animus, my son, was raring to manage it on! With Winona's help, I could see from the learned woman's perspective that she knew ameliorate than my identity did.

The dream clicked in the specific behest of my new “path.
” Dream activity seemed a boon partner to poetry, my chosen field.

I’ve been immersed in the imagery of both ever since.

Reference: Cooper, An Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Traditional Symbols.

London: Thames and Hudson, Ltd.

, 1978 Hall, James, Jungian Dream Interpretation, Toronto: Inner City Books, 1983

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