Tag Archives: animus

“The Oblong Box” by Edgar Allan Poe

OblongBox

I generally avoid spoilers in my posts, but this is such a compact story, it is impossible to write about it without discussing the end. Having said that, now is your chance to stop reading if you need to. If you are interested in reading the text online, you can do so here: Edgar Allan Poe Society.

For me, this tale is an allegory of the return to the source, or the Godhead, which is symbolized by the sea. Mr. Wyatt and his deceased wife, whose body is hidden within the oblong box, represent our dual nature: masculine/feminine, body/spirit, anima/animus, and conscious/subconscious. One cannot exist without the other, which is why at night, when Mr. Wyatt is in his cabin alone, he opens the box so that he can attempt to reconnect with his other half.

In this manner, I fancied that I could distinguish the precise moment when he fairly disengaged the lid — also that I could determine when he removed it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the lower berth in his room; — this latter point I knew, for example, by certain slight taps which the lid made in striking against the wooden edges of the berth, as he endeavoured to lay it down very gently — there being no room for it on the floor. After this there was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing more, upon either occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I may mention a low sobbing or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be nearly inaudible — if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise were not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed to resemble sobbing or sighing — but, of course, it could not have been either. I rather think it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr. Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely giving the rein to one of his hobbies — indulging in one of his fits of artistic enthusiasm. He had opened his oblong box, in order to feast his eyes upon the pictorial treasure within. There was nothing in this, however, to make him sob. I repeat, therefore, that it must have been, simply, a freak of my own fancy, distempered by good Captain Hardy’s green tea. Just before dawn, on each of the two nights of which I speak, I distinctly heard Mr. Wyatt replace the lid upon the oblong box, and force the nails into their old places, by means of the muffled mallet.

As the ship is sinking, the result of the hurricane, Wyatt realizes he left the box onboard. He panics, instinctively knowing that part of him is being returned to the divine source and he cannot tolerate that split within his psyche.

“The box!” vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing — “the box, I say! Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight will be but a trifle — it is nothing — mere nothing. By the mother who bore you — for the love of Heaven — by your hope of salvation, I implore you to put back for the box!”

Wyatt jumps from the lifeboat to retrieve the box and the body of his wife, and they are both pulled down into the depths of the ocean, symbolizing their reunion with each other before ultimately returning to the divine source, or the Godhead.

As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the madman (for as such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the companion-way, up which, by dint of a strength that appeared superhuman, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in extremity of astonishment, he passed, rapidly, several turns of a three-inch rope, first around the box and then around his body. In another instant both body and box were in the sea — disappearing suddenly, at once and forever.

I really enjoyed this tale, both because of the symbolism contained within, but also because the writing is so exquisitely crafted. In addition, the story works without the symbolism. You could look at it as the story of a passionate artist who loved his wife so much, the thought of spending the rest of his life without her was just too much to bear. Either way you want to look at this, a great story and one I am sure I will read again.

Advertisements

9 Comments

Filed under Literature

“The Left Hand of Darkness” by Ursula K. Le Guin

LeftHandDarkness

First off, I want to say that this book is outstanding. If you have not read it, then you must add it to your list. It works on so many levels. I am only going to be able to scratch the surface of this book’s depth. There is a lot of deep symbolism woven into this beautifully vivid and well-written piece of literature.

The basic premise of the book is that an envoy named Genly Ai visits an inhabited planet to inquire whether they are open to joining an interplanetary alliance whose goal is to share culture and ideas, thereby advancing the various civilizations. The planet Gethen, which Ai is visiting, is populated by beings who are bi-gender and take on a dominant gender when time comes to mate.

Le Guin uses the ambisexual Gethenians as a Jungian symbol for unified persons. They symbolize a balance between the anima and the animus. And while they recognize the existence of duality, they have an innate sense of oneness.

Ai brooded, and after some time he said, “You’re isolated, and undivided. Perhaps you are as obsessed with wholeness as we are with dualism.”

“We are dualists too. Duality is an essential, isn’t it? So long as there is myself and the other.”

(p. 252)

Le Guin expands on the concept of opposites combined into a balanced whole, employing symbols of light and darkness, of fire and ice, of life and death, to represent the importance of a balanced duality to maintain a spiritual whole.

Light is the left hand of darkness
and darkness the right hand of light.
Two are on, life and death, lying
together like lovers in kemmer,
like hands joined together,
like the end and the way.

(p. 252)

Throughout the book, the symbol that kept coming to mind for me was the yin and yang. As I was to discover later on in the book, this was intentional on the part of the writer.

“Fear’s very useful. Like darkness; like shadows.” Estraven’s smile was an ugly split in a peeling, cracked brown mask, thatched with black fur and set with two flecks of black rock. “It’s queer that daylight’s not enough. We need the shadows, in order to walk.”

“Give me your notebook a moment.”

He had just noted down our day’s journey and done some calculation of mileage and rations. He pushed the little tablet and carbon-pencil around the Chabe stove to me. On the blank leaf glued to the inner back cover I drew the double curve within the circle, and blackened the yin half of the symbol, then pushed it back to my companion. “Do you know that sign?”

He looked at it a long time with a strange look, but he said, “No.”

“It’s found on Earth, and on Hain-Davenant, and on Chiffewar. It is yin and yang. Light is the left hand of darkness . . . how did that go? Light, dark. Fear, courage. Cold, warmth. Female, male. It is yourself, Therem. Both and one. A shadow on snow.”

(pp. 286 – 287)

As I said at the beginning of the post, there is no way I can cover everything in this book. In addition to what I mentioned, the book also explores social and political structures, how myths evolve from actual events, concepts of patriotism, and spiritual and psychological exploration. While this book falls into the “science fiction” category, to me it is much more and transcends the genre. I highly recommend this book to everyone. If’ you’ve read it, feel free to share your thoughts below.

17 Comments

Filed under Literature, Spiritual

“Odyssey” by Homer: Book XIII – One More Strange Island

OdysseusAthena

In this episode, Odysseus is taken by the Phaeacians back to Ithaca. He is asleep when they arrive and is dropped off on the shore along with his treasure. When he wakes, he thinks he was tricked and dropped off somewhere else, since he does not recognize Ithaca because of the mists. Athena then appears to Odysseus in disguise, and Odysseus attempts to hide his identity from her. Athena then reveals herself and informs Odysseus that he is in Ithaca.

For me, the key section in this section is what Athena says as she reveals herself to Odysseus.

Whoever gets around you must be sharp
and guileful as a snake; even a god
might bow to you in ways of dissimulation.
You! You chameleon!
Bottomless bag of tricks! Here in your own country
would you not give your stratagems a rest
or stop your spellbinding for an instant?

You play a part as if it were your own tough skin.

No more of this, though. Two of a kind, we are,
contrivers, both. Of all men now alive
you are the best in plots and story telling.
My own fame is for wisdom among the gods—
deceptions, too.

Would even you have guessed
that I am Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus,
I that am always with you in times of trial,
a shield to you in battle, I who made
the Phaiakians befriend you, to a man?

(Fitzgerald Translation: p. 239)

Here we have Athena acknowledging Odysseus as the Trickster. But there is something even deeper going on here. First off, she points out that “even a god might bow to you in ways of dissimulation.” I see a double meaning in this line. On one hand, Athena is saying that the gods would bow to him as a sign of acknowledgment and respect for his skill in the art of deception. But bow could also mean bend. If that is the case, then Athena is stating that Odysseus as the Trickster is so powerful that he has the ability to actually deceive the gods. The fact that Odysseus can bend the will of a god by sheer guile and will is an awesome power.

Next, we have the correlation between Athena and Odysseus in the area of trickery. She states that she is also famed among the gods for her deceptions. This made me wonder if Athena is the feminine counterpart to the masculine Trickster archetype expressed through the character of Odysseus. Essentially, Athena and Odysseus would be the anima and animus of the Trickster, if we were to consider this from a Jungian perspective.

If Athena and Odysseus are truly two aspects of the Trickster archetype, then that would explain why the goddess is so steadfast in her support for Odysseus. I feel that the text supports this idea, particularly when we consider how many times Athena has disguised and concealed herself throughout the tale, just as Odysseus has done.

Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts. I will be posting on Book XIV soon.

2 Comments

Filed under Literature