The Modern Problem of Anima and Animus

In The Feminine in Fairy Tales, Marie-Louise von Franz undertakes a profound exploration of the archetypal feminine as presented in traditional fairy tales, illuminating how these narratives have long resonated with the psychological and spiritual dimensions of the female experience. Drawing upon her extensive background in Jungian psychology, von Franz dissects the rich symbolism embedded within these stories, revealing how they reflect both women’s inner desires and struggles, and their socially imposed roles. Through her insightful analysis, she invites readers to reconsider the familiar tales of their childhood, uncovering deeper layers of meaning that speak to the complexity of the female psyche.

Embarking on this captivating journey, we rediscover the wisdom hidden within fairy tales. This is especially vital today, when the modern woman has lost – or is on the verge of losing – her center and her connection to instinct. Engaging with von Franz’s work serves as a bridge, skillfully linking these timeless narratives with the contemporary quest for identity, empowerment, and a deeper understanding of the feminine spirit.

The Crisis and Danger Facing Women: Depersonalization Through the Negative Animus

In her iconic interviews, most notably in the documentary project The Way of the Dream (a 1987 film series and book in conversation with Fraser Boa), Marie-Louise von Franz describes the contemporary crisis of identity in an exceptionally direct and authentic manner.

According to her, the greatest danger for modern individuals is rooted in being possessed by unconscious contrasexual structures – the Animus in women and the Anima in men. Instead of serving as internal bridges to the deep wisdom of the unconscious, these structures manifest as destructive psychological forces that alienate the individual from reality. In this regard, I increasingly encounter people, and women in particular, who have unfortunately already lost touch with reality. In such cases, even the most basic questions intended to provoke self-reflection act as triggers, revealing extreme resistance and hostility. These reactions are almost always tied to touching the shadow and are not infrequently accompanied by the cruelty of ignorance, thereby rendering genuine human conversation impossible. For such a dialogue requires the active contribution of the other party – much like in therapy, where we rely on the patient’s engagement as we collectively search for the answer to the problem. And if psychologists are truly honest with themselves and others, they must admit that they do not initially know the origin or cause of a person’s psychological suffering. This is precisely why teamwork is essential.

The lack of a sense of “human” presence is a widespread phenomenon today, unequivocally confirming that the unconscious – both personal and collective – has overwhelmed the modern individual. This means that archetypes, and specifically their shadow aspect, possess the person. The more robotically an individual behaves, the more they project this shadow outward, perceiving evil everywhere around them, yet never within themselves.

In such situations, a woman falls into a state of dissonance, beginning to act like a wounded animal; reason vanishes, replaced by a painful sense of helplessness and an inability to engage in a profound conversation. This is typically followed by a drama through which the woman unconsciously attempts to consume everything and everyone around her, trying to drag them onto the emotional roller coaster she imagines she is “controlling.” In psychology, this is referred to as a process of dissociation and ego inflation, where the ego, driven by a sense of grandiosity, has lost its connection to reality. In these cases, the woman either begins to weep passively-aggressively, manipulatively using the mask of a victim, or becomes completely overtaken by the destructive possession of her Animus.

In the first case, the Animus is weak and underdeveloped, leaving her incapable of reasoned judgment; in the second case, she is overwhelmed by “arguments,” yet these are entirely devoid of self-reflection, rendering her unable to hear, accept, or process an alternative perspective.

In The Way of the Dream, von Franz describes how the modern woman is psychologically “raped” not by external forces, but by her own unconscious, alien-to-her-nature intellectual opinions:

“The whole world tells her what she’s doing wrong. That’s the negative animus. Those collective opinions rape the woman of her own individual thoughts or feeling reactions.”

Marie-Louise von Franz, Fraser Boa (The Way of the Dream, 1987)

When a woman falls under the power of the negative Animus, she loses connection with her authentic feminine essence and begins to function through cold, critical, alien dogmas and “collective truths.” In an attempt to prove herself or to fight on an external level, she becomes a hostage to constant dissatisfaction. In her book Interpretation of Fairy Tales, von Franz complements this by noting that the animus fosters loneliness in women, causing them to never feel like they are enough.

Check out the article The Animus in the Female Psyche: Analogy with Animus Possidendi

The Crisis and Danger Facing Men: The Repressed Anima and Ego-Inflation

In men, the contemporary crisis is linked to the rejection of religious traditions and the subsequent repression of the feminine side of their psyche (the Anima). In her interview, published under the title A Woman’s Way, von Franz cites the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche as the prototype of the modern man in a severe psychological crisis:

“Nietzsche is the prototype of modern man having an inflation because of not believing any more… When people do away with religious tradition, they fall into the Superman fantasy. It means that the conscious ego believes it can find an answer to all problems by itself.”

A Woman’s Way (Interview with Marie-Louise von Franz)

When a man denies his inner feminine essence (the feminine principle), his consciousness undergoes a profound distortion on an emotional and ethical level. Commenting on Nietzsche’s famous phrase from Zarathustra (“When you go to women, do not forget the whip”), von Franz states in the same interview:

“That is completely true for the inner life. A man should whip his anima. That means, he should be able to criticize his anima when it is appropriate to do so. Nietzsche, however, projected this impulse onto the real, outer woman; then it becomes a devilish, sadistic act.”

– Marie-Louise von Franz (A Woman’s Way)

A man who has not integrated his Anima becomes consumed by infantile fantasies, whims, and depressive moods, or falls victim to the external manipulation of women who deliberately embody his idealized Anima image in order to gain power over him.

Von Franz concludes that neglecting these invisible figures literally tears people away from real life:

“There is a great psychological danger in the figures Jung called the animus and the anima. These contrasexual elements can thoroughly alienate a human being from reality and from society. The animus, like the anima, is a highly ambiguous, very dangerous inner figure which has to be approached with great wisdom.”

– Marie-Louise von Franz (The Way of the Dream)

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On the Feminine in Fairy Tales and the Anima

Until around the 17th century, it was actually the adult population that engaged with fairy tales. Their “exile” to the nursery is a late phenomenon, likely linked to the rejection of the irrational and the ascendancy of a rational worldview – such that they came to be viewed as nonsense and “old wives’ tales,” deemed good enough only for children. Nowadays, we do not permit ourselves to take fairy tales seriously- except within Jungian psychology.

In the prefaces to more scholarly publications, editors note how these fairy tales came to light: some were recounted by peasants, others by eccentric old men, by schizoid personalities, or by ordinary individuals – yet the creator of a fairy tale can be of either sex. A female character at the center of a story does not necessarily prove that the tale pertains to female psychology. Many lengthy narratives depicting a woman’s suffering were actually authored by men, serving as a projection of their own Anima problem.

This is particularly the case with the theme of the abandoned woman who must endure a long journey of suffering to find the right bridegroom, as seen, for example, in the story of Cupid and Psyche in Apuleius’s The Golden Ass.

Similarly, in various ancient Gnostic teachings, the figure of Sophia appears as a female personification of divine wisdom, about whom the most astonishing stories are told: that she was the youngest daughter of the Godhead, that she sought to know the unknown Father, called the Abyss, and through this daring longing, became entangled in a web of trouble and suffering, falling into matter and praying for redemption. This motif of Sophia lost in matter is a theme not only of late antiquity; it also appears as the concept of the lost Shekhinah in the Jewish Kabbalistic tradition.

The authors of these religious texts are known to have been men. Under such circumstances, we can say that the figure of Sophia represents certain aspects of the male Anima. In other cases, however, we can just as confidently say that these figures represent female psychology. The entire problem becomes, in one way or another, more or less complex if we attempt to concentrate on how the psychology of the feminine and the psychology of the Anima are intertwined.

The real woman exerts an influence on the Anima, and the Anima, in turn, influences the real woman. A woman possesses an educational and transforming influence on a man’s Eros. A man, especially if he is heavily engaged in intellectual pursuits, tends to be somewhat coarse or undifferentiated in the realm of Eros. He comes home exhausted, turns on the television to watch the news (or sports), drinks rakia, and then goes to bed (particularly if he is Bulgarian). He does not deem it necessary to demonstrate any feelings toward his wife, failing to perceive the female personality and her needs.

Here, a woman can have a transformative effect. If she succeeds in asserting her human rights without Animus, and if she maintains a good relationship with the man she loves, she can share insights about female psychology that will help him differentiate his feelings. Since a man’s Anima will possess many characteristics of his mother – his first experience with woman – women in general will exert a powerful influence on shaping and building a man’s relationship with his Eros function.

On the other hand, women are influenced by the projections of the male Anima. For instance, they may think they are acting a certain way, only to notice that the man responds with confusion or shock because their behavior does not align with his internal image of the Anima. Even little girls discover that if they play the role of their father’s Anima – wrapping their arms around his neck and so on – they can get almost anything out of him. Fathers push aside the mother who insists on clean nails and going to school; the daughters say “Daddy” in a charming way, and he falls for it hook, line, and sinker. Thus, they learn to exploit the male Anima by adapting to it.

Women who behave in this manner are referred to as “Anima-women.” Such women simply play the role suggested to them by the man they are interested in at the moment. They perceive themselves only as mirrors for the man’s reaction. Their lover might tell them they are wonderful, but if there is no man around, they feel like they are nobody. It is solely the man’s reaction that makes them conscious of their feminine identity.

“Therefore, some women live entirely in the projection of the anima. I knew a woman who was quite small and had delicate feet, but her husband loved her to wear very high heels. She tortured herself wearing these shoes, though doctors told her she should not. Such a woman is afraid of losing the man’s affection. If he only loves her as an anima figure, she is forced to play the anima role. This interplay can be positive or negative, but the woman is heavily influenced by the male anima figure, which brings us to a very primitive, simple, and collective level, where we cannot separate the traits of the anima and of the real woman. Often they are mixed to a certain extent and react to each other.”

– Marie-Louise von Franz, The Feminine in Fairy Tales

In our Christian civilization – that is, within a strictly patriarchal tradition, the image of woman is fundamentally unrepresented. As Jung famously put her, she has no representatives in the Upper House. Consequently, it can be said that the male Anima is neglected, while the real woman remains insecure regarding her own essence – about who she is or who she could potentially be. For this reason, she either regresses to a primitive instinctive pattern and clings to it, which shields her from the projection that civilization exerts upon her, or she falls into the Animus, constructing an artificial image of herself to compensate for her inner insecurity.

In a matriarchal society, such as the one found in Southern India, women possess an innate confidence in their own femininity. They are secure in their importance and know they are distinct from men in a specific way, a fact that carries no sense of inferiority. Consequently, they are able to assert their human existence and being in a completely natural manner.

“At a primitive level, the image of the real woman and the image of the man’s Anima are more or less the same thing, undergoing specific, slow processes of transformation that span about three to four hundred years. This slow developmental movement is likely the cumulative total of thousands of individual reactions which, over the course of centuries, have accumulated and suddenly erupted as a movement at a given time. It is probable that the bitterness born from being rejected and undervalued, experienced by many thousands of women, led to the collective explosion of women’s emancipation at the beginning of the 19th century. It developed slowly within many individuals and then suddenly broke to the surface, bringing it into human consciousness. Before that, these reactions occurred in the unconscious. Thus, there are movements that possess a psychological foundation and represent the sum of many individual experiences.”

“Therefore, we must begin with a paradox: the female figures in fairy tales are neither a model of the anima nor of the real woman, but of both, for sometimes it is one and sometimes the other. It is relatively true to say that some fairy tales illustrate more the real woman and others the man’s anima, according to the sex of the last person who recorded the fairy tale, thus giving it a slightly different slant.”

– Marie-Louise von Franz, The Feminine in Fairy Tales

The Role of the Unconscious in Fairy Tales

Fairy tales, in essence, tell us about figures from the unconscious, from the beyond (the invisible world). It can be said that within myth, figures are well-defined; they correspond to what Lévy-Bruhl calls représentations collectives (collective representations). Fairy tales migrate and cannot be tied to a single national collective consciousness. They also contain a vast amount of compensatory material, typically contradicting or complementing collective conscious ideas. In other words, they provide us with far more insight into what is occurring within the compensatory function of the unconscious than myths do.

It is precisely the unconscious that demands improvement within the ego; the infantile ego does not seek it. Every fairy tale carries a distinct meaning, with the hero’s model functioning in harmony with their instincts. When the heroine functions in accordance with the instinctive demands of the psyche, she represents the model of the conscious demands of the feminine. She acts as a sort of blueprint, an archetypal connection between the Ego and the Self, which must be fulfilled through real-world realization in the life of each individual. One could say that totality, or what we refer to as the Self, is a latent, innate possibility. It is like an egg – a mass of potential that requires actual, conscious life, with all its tragedies, conflicts, and resolutions, for that totality, that wholeness, to become a reality.

Thus, the ego is the instrument through which psychological potentials can become real. If, for example, I have an artistic disposition, but my ego never discovers it and does nothing about it, making no effort to utilize those possibilities, they might as well not exist. Evidently, therefore, the ego is the tool for realizing all the various, innate dispositions of the human being. Mythologically speaking, the ego is the instrument of incarnation for the Self. The hero and heroine in fairy tales illustrate the precise way in which such instruments of incarnation must function. The ego has an infinite number of functions to fulfill, and each fairy tale emphasizes a single aspect – typically the one that is currently missing or needed within the collective situation.

On the Nature of Goodness and Empathy

Today, there is much talk about empathy – a quality primarily linked to the feminine and the Anima – which the modern individual seems to have lost, having forgotten what it means to be human at all. At the same time, however, there is an equally significant danger of misusing empathy, turning it into a tool for interference and control in the lives of others. Therefore, I will conclude this article with an excerpt from von Franz’s The Feminine in Fairy Tales that touched me deeply. I return to it every time I am prone to falling into the illusion of being someone else’s savior. It is a form of self-help, a way to balance the scales of rigor and grace within us. A gentle reminder, in case we have drifted into forgetfulness and are still learning the art of balance.

“The Taoist sage, as Chuang-tzu describes him, should not mourn too much if his nearest friend or his wife dies, or if his favorite pupil or his master goes away. He does the mourning ceremony but no more, which to our Christian civilization is rather shocking. But besides that, which was something that brought a great consolation to me, there is another passage where Chuang-tzu says that the really enlightened Taoist master does not seek to be good, but is just like nature – he lets things be.

He neither seeks to save nor to do any good, and if the other is ill, he will not go and nurse (pamper) him. It looks as if nature has its way; the other is ill and that is that. But then he adds that the sage loves everybody from the overflow of his natural kindness, and the redeeming sentence runs: ‘Yes, but on the other hand, there is a natural kindness in man.’ There is a natural human sympathy for the other person and that is allowed; but if it is done from moral motives, from ethical principles, it is against nature and therefore doubtful – it has a bad fateful reverse effect. But if from the overflow of natural kindness I go and nurse my friend when he is ill, driven by a natural impulse (élan naturel), then I do no evil. That is allowed, because then there will be no kickback in the form of putting up emotional demands, or wanting the other to show gratitude.”

That is the subtlest way of going beyond the ethical and entering something which is nearest to being absolutely good, but it is so subtle that they can only describe it by paradoxes. With us it is much more difficult, because we have made so much effort on the side of striving to be good, and have accumulated such an abyss of horror on the other side, that our problem has become terrifying.”

“The unconscious is nature in man, so you would have to say that nature in man – the psychic nature in man – describes nature as longing to become more human and less cruel.”

– Marie-Louise von Franz, The Feminine in Fairy Tales

References
Boa, F. (1994). The way of the dream. Shambhala.
Spencer, D., & Rossi, E. L. (1990). A woman’s way: A conversation with Marie-Louise von Franz. Psychological Perspectives: A Journal of Global Consciousness Integrating Psyche, Soul and Nature, (22), 102–121.
Von Franz, M.-L. (1996). Interpretation of fairy tales. Shambhala Publications.
Von Franz, M.-L. (2013). The feminine in fairy tales. Stiftung für Jung’sche Psychologie. (Original work published 1972 by Spring Publications)

Tsvetina Petkova

Tsvetina Petkova is an analytical psychologist and a lawyer. Founder of Club Mangum Opus. Her practice and research focus on dream analysis, mythology, alchemy & hermetic science.

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Over time, this violence takes on an increasingly grotesque form, behind which the control over others can no longer be hidden, as it becomes all-consuming and progressively darker. If we are honest with ourselves, we will have to admit that the more these ‘others’ (husband, children, parents, employees, etc.) ‘fail to appreciate’ what we have done for them, the more our resentment grows, and the faster we sink into the illusion of superiority. Once we get there, it is time to face some inevitable truths. Coming face-to-face with this powerful shadow is, in fact, the bridge to our gold. This is the gift of intuitive wisdom that many women carry within themselves, hidden in Arcanum II of the Tarot system — The High Priestess.

The Shadow of the Martyr-Savior

Whenever we encounter the ‘ideal’ mother and wife, or when we believe that we ourselves are her absolute embodiment (and thus want the whole world to see and acknowledge it!), most of us can deeply sense that this is a mask. Behind it bubbles a sense of repressed rage. Yes, I know that most people catch onto this immediately, and some even see that behind the artificial, welcoming, shy, and submissive smile lies the exact opposite. The more someone strives to demonstrate how ‘good,’ capable, and knowledgeable they are, the more powerfully their opposite is triggered, residing in the unconscious. The more we suppress this shadow, the more insistently it manifests as exhausting chaos in the external world, and the higher the chances that we will reach the truth about ourselves. Eventually.

“I’d rather be whole than good.”

Carl Jung, from his interview for the BBC documentary Face to Face, 1959

Jung warns that an overly strong identification with the persona of a ‘good’ or ‘suffering’ person creates moral blindness. To avoid becoming possessed by these Shadow dynamics, it is vital to integrate our dark side — by acknowledging our own hidden longings for control, the repressed need to express anger in an appropriate form, and the manipulations of our unhealthy ego.

All aspects accompanying the figure of the martyr-savior are projected outward. She then begins to see all around her precisely what she cannot, refuses to, or fiercely resists recognizing in the mirror of her own soul.

The trap

In most cases, the woman voluntarily becomes a hostage to people who refuse to grow up because somewhere in the past, she believed this would save her from rejection and abandonment. This past, however, continues to be her present. Consequently, here we can observe and trace the Karpman Drama Triangle (victim, savior, persecutor) the exact same vicious circle. The Hermetic principles show us the same: correspondence. As above, so below; as within, so without.

The individual (regardless of whether they are a man or a woman) perceives helplessness (or, for example, faux spirituality) in others and is deeply convinced that it is their ‘duty’ to provide them with ‘direction in life’ in order to ‘fix them.’ But of course, no one has ever changed simply because someone else wished it upon them. Other people are not a reconstruction ‘project’ or an arrangement of flowers in a garden. This is precisely where the narcissistic arrogance of the weak, terrified ego and spirit comes to light; the more the actions of others slip out of their control, the more aggressively they employ manipulation through domestic control. This is what they call ‘caring’ instead of violence.

The lack of respect for the choices and boundaries of others is what they call ‘self-sacrifice.’ The lack of maturity is replaced with self-sabotage, behind which they hide their refusal to make mature choices for their own lives. They label the ‘disobedience’ of others as an ‘injustice’ that they seek to punish, rather than uncovering the lawlessness within their own souls.

Their shadow whispers that it is easier to control the lives of others so they don’t have to make choices and take true responsibility, hiding behind the powerful symbol of the womb — that warm, nurturing, and loving Mother Earth who shelters all those in need. And at its core, this is true regarding the nature of the feminine principle.

However, when it manifests in its shadow form, the woman embodies the shadow of the Devouring Mother, clinging to ‘serving others.’ She trades her vertical connection with the Divine (The Priestess) for the horizontal bondage of daily life. Thus, she pays the ultimate price — she loses her connection to the mystical, to intuitive wisdom, and to natural (Cosmic) laws. These are precisely what the High Priestess keeps hidden behind the veil of Mystery. And behind this veil lies the path of the unknown, trust in a higher power, and the vast world of the Noumenon.

Tarot as a Path of Self-Discovery

Nowadays, Tarot cards are used as a form of entertainment, where some people attempt to read the future. The Initiates of antiquity, who created the Tarot, embedded a significant part of their science into these arcana in the form of symbols. Those who possess the skill to interpret these symbols see vast horizons for reflection and discovery unfold before them.

Tarot is a geometric and symbolic map of Creation. At its core, Tarot is the purest reflection of the relationship between God, Man, and the Universe (the Cosmos), mirroring the interconnectedness between the world of ideas, human consciousness, and the physical world.

Each card of the Major Arcana represents a specific stage in the evolution of the human spirit — from initial chaos to full integration. Tarot reveals the path of consciousness development because it acts as a cosmic mirror: it translates eternal cosmic laws into the language of symbols, guiding us through the Shadow and returning us back to our primordial center, which Jung calls the archetype of the Self.

An Encounter with the High Priestess

The High Priestess is the second Major Arcanum in the Tarot. The analytical psychology views her symbolically and, above all, archetypally — through the archetype of the Anima (or the Great Mother) and her wisdom, which resides in the collective unconscious. The High Priestess embodies the Primordial Womb of Consciousness, the Hidden Gnosis, and the Cosmic Magnet that draws the Spirit into Matter. She is the bridge between the conscious and the Unconscious.

Examining the iconography of the card closely, we discover that among other notable details, her head is crowned with a tiara, at the top of which sits a crescent moon shaped in a form resembling scales, and that she is seated between two columns with a veil stretched between them. These two columns symbolize the twin pillars in the Temple of Solomon: Jachin and Boaz. Jachin rises on the right, and Boaz on the left. One is blue, the other red — this reveals the divergence in their very nature.

This is the counterweight between the feminine and masculine principles. We find this exact same idea in the Tree of the Sephiroth, with its two Pillars (of Mercy and Severity) on either side of the Central Pillar — the Pillar of Equilibrium. For this reason, the High Priestess corresponds to the number 2, about which much can be said, but the most important thing to grasp now is that it symbolizes polarity—the existence of two Principles — positive (electric, radiating) and negative (magnetic, receptive) — Masculine and Feminine.

The Cosmos was created by these two Principles, and therefore it will continue to exist, just as humanity will continue to exist and evolve, solely thanks to the operation of these two Principles. They are at the very foundation of life, and we encounter them over and over again in all life phenomena, whether physical, psychological, or spiritual.

The High Priestess rests her right hand upon a half-open book (by the way, this is the only Tarot card in which a book appears), and in her left hand, she holds 2 keys. These symbols signify that we must undergo a certain initiation or training to acquire the keys that allow us to part the veil and gain access to the Mysteries. The book represents the number 2, and the keys are also 2. The number 2 symbolizes the entrance to the Sanctuary. Passing through this doorway, we find ourselves upon an extraordinary and mysterious path. One cannot know what they will encounter along this path, but it is certain that they will reach profound discoveries.

Jung and Tarot: An Archetypal Journey

While researching the present topic, I discovered yet another exceptional literary gem — the book Jung and Tarot: An Archetypal Journey by Sallie Nichols. Examining the Major Arcana through the lens of Jungian archetypes confirms the universality and inexhaustible treasures of this Knowledge.

At the intersection between the High Priestess and the shadow of the Martyr-Savior, a key psychological dynamic can be observed:

Loss of Connection to the Inner Voice

In her pure manifestation, the High Priestess is the master of her own power. She embodies sacred stillness, absolute boundaries, and the ability to hermetically preserve one’s vital energy. The Priestess does not explain, she does not scream, and she speaks without words. However, when this sovereignty is undiscovered within, the individual abdicates their throne and commits self-betrayal, falling into the trap of codependency and self-effacement.

The Mechanism: When the individual refuses to follow their innate intuition and spiritual sensitivity in order to ground them in real creativity (home, garden, business), they dissipate their power. Unable to maintain their mystical veil (their energetic boundaries) they lose the Mystery of wisdom. Instead of reaching the Temple, their vital and creative force (libido) withers. The person sacrifices their own wholeness to take on ‘the suffering of others,’ which instantly unlocks the destructive dynamic of the Martyr.

We help others only when we have helped ourselves. Everything else is an illusion that laughs mockingly in our faces. That is why the Shadow is our bridge to the hidden gold in the unconscious. The polarities of good and evil work through us in a single direction, and their projections outward only deepen the collective madness.

Covert and Overt Superiority

When we identify with the social mask (the Persona) of the martyr-savior, we lose connection with the sacred stillness of the High Priestess, and the Savior complex is activated. Instead of the Priestess ruling from her throne through silence, our frightened Ego attempts to usurp her scroll of knowledge. The Messianic complex is, in fact, the perfect gateway to this Shadow of the Priestess. Pride stemming from ‘special knowledge’ is the first step, and manipulation through omission is its practical manifestation.

Another aspect of the shadow side of the Anima, symbolizing the High Priestess, manifests through a passivity that leads to paralysis, or through a secretiveness that turns into manipulation (covert superiority). When she refuses to speak or miserly withholds what she knows, her wisdom isolates rather than guides. Instead of the veil preserving sacred stillness, it is used as a smokescreen behind which the Ego hides its true intentions to keep others checked and in the dark.

This leads to an immediate Ego-inflation — the ego swells to ‘undiscovered heights,’ thereby revealing the Messianic complex. Such an individual begins to believe they hold an absolute monopoly over the ‘Divine and only’ truth. From this arrogant position, they attempt to covertly orchestrate the lives of those around them in order to ‘save’ them, because they know ‘best.’ If not caught in time, this destructive shadow turns into a pathology that manifests differently depending on gender:

In the martyr-woman, the shadow Animus is activated. She becomes hyper-aggressive in her opinions — always right, knowing everything, and dismissing any alternative perspective. Paradoxically, this ‘knowledge’ remains confined entirely to her mind, while in the real world, she is passive in constructive actions yet controls the household through nagging and guilt-tripping.

In the martyr-man, the distorted Anima is activated. When a man takes on the role of Savior and begins to ‘carry everything on his back,’ his Anima transforms him into a moody, passive-aggressive, emotionally closed individual who, instead of sovereign stillness, radiates quiet resentment and controls those around him through coldness.

Psychic Differentiation

When you lose the Pillar of the Priestess, you begin to absorb the energy of others like a sponge. You enter a labyrinth where you feel yourself drifting further away from who you are. Your energetic vessel overflows with external chaos until, at some point, it becomes difficult to distinguish where you end and others begin.

If you then ask yourself the honest question: ‘, the answer will not be others. You are sacrificing your own wholeness. The panicked desire to control the lives and salvation of those around you signifies only one thing — you are terrified that you cannot govern yourself. The illusion of ‘goodness’ comes to light as a pure escape from your own inner emptiness.

All of this is directly linked to the process of individuation — understanding who you are so that you can connect with people in a new, mature, and fruitful way. Others are often the crutches we use to avoid embarking on the unknown path of our own lives. Today, however, even these crutches can no longer ‘stabilize’ the situation. We must learn to walk independently. Not alone — independently.

The High Priestess: A Path to the Inner Temple and Wisdom

The imagery of the High Priestess originates from the deepest mystical traditions of humanity — from the ancient Egyptian mysteries of Isis to the Gnostic Sophia, who personifies the Hidden Divine Knowledge. She is that eternal, silent, and intuitive feminine power that guards the Key to Creation. But to reach her Temple, one must first walk the path through their own Shadow and shed the rags of the Martyr.

In esoteric philosophy, the great goddess Isis — the embodiment of magic, motherhood, and healing — is the primordial archetype behind Arcanum II. Her veil symbolizes the shroud of cosmic illusion (known in Indian philosophy as Maya), which covers the true essence of things and separates the visible from the invisible world. The lifting of this veil is a symbol of the quest for Light and the overcoming of the darkness of ignorance. The Priestess sits at the threshold of this Mystery, calling us to look beyond the obvious.

In mythology and Jungian archetypal psychology, the connection between Isis and Ma’at is profound and organic, representing the gradual unfolding of the feminine principle (the Anima). While in Ancient Egypt they often fused into a unified cult, researchers of ancient knowledge and mythology discover two distinct stages of the exact same archetype.

You can read more about Ma’at and the modern Themis in the article The Psychology of Law: Archetypes and Themis Unveiled.

The Sacred Symbol of the Veil

In a modern world where everything is a subject to mass exposure and ironically labeled as ‘vulnerability’ and ‘heroism,’ the mysterious and the mystical are becoming a vanishing luxury. Have you noticed how a woman who elegantly covers her hair with a beautiful scarf commands everyone’s attention? People follow her with their eyes because they cannot penetrate her depth. She radiates personal power, mystery, and dignity that follow her like a magnetic perfume.

This veil creates an aura of inaccessibility and sophistication, demanding respect rather than superficial curiosity. The woman demonstrates that she is the one who decides what to reveal of herself and what to keep as a personal secret.

This is why in Arcanum II, although only one curtain is visually drawn, a symbolic interpretation reveals that there are actually two veils. The first (the outer one) is the veil of illusion in the material world. One lifts it when they stop looking at the superficial and turn toward the Invisible. Crossing it brings you face-to-face with the High Priestess herself. The second veil is the curtain with pomegranates in front of which she sits. She is its guardian. To pass through this one as well, you must learn to read the Secrets of the Book of Nature, inscribed in the TORA scroll that she holds in her lap.

While living in Dubai for nearly two years, I had the opportunity to wear an abaya on multiple occasions, surrounded by women dressed in the same garment. The sense of inviolability and inner strength I described above is something truly alive and real. I was captivated by this magic the moment I landed at the airport back in 2013. That is why, to this day, I find wearing a beautiful scarf and long, stylish dresses to be exceptionally elegant. I highly recommend that any woman who hasn’t tried this recently and give it a chance — to feel how her personal geometry shifts.

So, are you ready to stand before the High Priestess to discover what awaits you behind the veil of the Temple?

References
Aïvanhov, O. M. The Cosmic Scales: The Number 2. Prosveta Publishing, France.
Ouspensky, P. D. (1913). The Symbolism of the Tarot.
He, W. (2025). The Duality Of Archetypes In Tarot Cards. International Journal of Psychoanalysis and Education: Subject, Action & Society, 5(1), 100–122. https://doi.org/10.32111/SAS.2025.5.1.6

Tsvetina Petkova

Tsvetina Petkova is an analytical psychologist and a lawyer. Founder of Club Mangum Opus. Her practice and research focus on dream analysis, mythology, alchemy & hermetic science.

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Aesthetics, beauty, and harmony in every location I have lived in, restored, or visited — whether in Bulgaria or around the world, have always accompanied my vision of what a space can look like, what it reveals about its inhabitants, as well as the resources people possess and how they can utilize them. Let’s now examine what the science of the human being reveals in its trinity — Spirit, soul, and body — where the body serves as one’s external home, which is also an analogy for one’s manifested (projected) physical home.

Hermeticism: As above, so below (Cosmic Correspondence)

The fundamental law of Hermeticism (“As it is in Heaven, so it is on Earth”) also operates along the “within — without” axis. A person’s external home is a microcosm, a miniature replica of their macrocosm (the inner spirit). Space is a living spirit, therefore Hermeticism views the space we inhabit not as dead matter, but as a projection of the mind (Nous). The way we organize our home is a direct material manifestation of our spiritual order or chaos.

When I began the restoration of the House (today Magnum Opus) 9 years ago, I believed I was building a modern shared workspace for digital nomads (coworking & coliving). However, the experiences and occurrences within it forced me to undergo a heavy personal process and a confrontation with the collective shadow – from battles with local corruption and building stone fences against parasitic energies, to a complete purification of illusions. No matter how much I did everything “by the book” – structure, organization, legal forms, and business models – the house seemed to refuse to be “just a business,” even one with a vision masterplan for contemporary rural development. Over the years, I realized that it was my personal temenos (sacred space), in which my individual descent into the roots of my lineage, birthplace, homeland (personal and collective unconscious) had begun.

Alchemy: The House as Vas Hermeticum

The Alchemical Laboratory: For alchemists, the home (the laboratory) is a sacred, enclosed space (the hermetic vessel) within which the Great Work (Magnum Opus) takes place.

The Vessel of Transformation: The house symbolizes the Vas Hermeticum – the sealed vessel in which matter (a symbol of our inner processes) decomposes, is purified, and is reborn. The very process of building, renovating, or cleaning the home corresponds to alchemical stages such as Nigredo (putrefaction / working with the shadows in the basement) and Albedo (whitening / purification of the upper floors).

The way we renovate our space reflects the evolution of our mind and essence as a whole. Do you know people who are perpetually starting renovations, throwing themselves into grandiose plans, only for everything to sink into chaos, debt, and eternal incompleteness? I have met such people, and typically, the mess, chaos, mold, and stagnation are always the expression of a psychic decay that no cosmetic changes can hide. Especially when the person or people have grown accustomed to living “cozily” in their own swamp. When a person lacks internal structure, their home remains in a constant, destructive Nigredo.

The other polarity exists as well, which I have encountered more frequently — beautiful buildings and courtyards, painted as if by an artist, brought to life by the talented hands of a craftsman and the beautiful aesthetic vision of a person, landing like a little piece of paradise on earth. Alas, behind the doors of such a “paradise,” I have often discovered its exact opposite — the shadows of hell. Today, many people have built their palaces, yet inside, their inhabitants live like ghostly prisoners. Even though they dine with silver-plated and gold-plated utensils, they consume the foul stench of devastating misery, gnashing its teeth against empty plates that visibly appear overflowing with delicacies.

Analytical Psychology: The Home as a Topography of the Psyche and Consciousness

Analytical psychology views the house as a vertical model of the human psyche. Our home is a Mirror of our Self: the upper and inhabited floors (living room, kitchen) represent the everyday Ego and consciousness. Hidden spaces (attics, closets, and especially basements) symbolize the personal and collective unconscious, where we hide our complexes, repressed memories, and archetypes. Clare Cooper Marcus is an architect and environmental psychologist, author of the brilliant book House as a Mirror of Self. She explores in detail how the terrace, furniture, clutter, or minimalism reflect the unconscious emotional voids, traumas, or blockages of the inhabitants.

Gaston Bachelard is a French philosopher, author of the phenomenological work The Poetics of Space. He explores the psychology of the house, paying special attention to the basement (the zone of irrational fears and the unconscious) and the attic (the zone of clear thought and rationality).

Marie-Louise von Franz writes extensively about the symbolism of houses and castles in fairy tales and myths, viewing them as structures of the ego or of the collective psyche. James Hillman is the founder of archetypal psychology, who also writes about the “psychology of architecture” and argues that the buildings we inhabit literally shape and therapize (or sicken) our souls.

Hillman is the creator of archetypal psychology and one of the scholars who clearly state that it is time for psychology to leave the sterile office and enter among the people – into architecture, into law, and above all, into life! He left the Jung Institute in Zurich, where he had been director, upon realizing that modern psychological schools are the same corporations that today have become rigid structures, having lost the knowledge bequeathed by those to whom they otherwise supposedly bow and behind whose name they hide.

Carl Jung and his Tower in Bollingen

The construction of a physical home brings to the surface the “architecture” of our lineage, activates transgenerational (ancestral) memory, and requires a grounding in the collective unconscious. In his autobiographical book Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Carl Jung describes in detail how the building of his tower in Bollingen was a materialization of his unconscious and a descent to his ancestors.

Jung writes that when he began to build the house, he felt a powerful pressure from the unlived lives of his ancestors. He believes that we carry in our blood the questions to which our grandmothers, grandfathers, and forefathers failed to answer. For him, the construction of the tower was an alchemical process — driving a root into the earth of the lineage in order to give physical form to collective memory. With each subsequent wing that he added over the years, Jung shares that he achieved a deeper integration of the Self and reconciliation with his family’s past.

His tower provided him with a place where he could live in his “second personality” — the one connected to eternity and roots, far from the noise of modern progress. The construction period was exceptionally long. Jung built the tower over the course of 32 years (from 1923 to 1955). The process was not planned in advance with an architectural blueprint, but rather followed the stages of his own psychological maturation (individuation). The construction moved through four main phases, each of which was connected to a turning point in his life.

“At Bollingen I am in the midst of my true life, I am most deeply myself… There I live in my second personality and see life in the round, as something forever coming into being and passing on. My house is built as if ancestors had lived in it before me… I feel that I have answered questions which my parents and ancestors left unresolved.”

Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Carl Jung

The famous philosopher, culturologist, writer, and historian of religions Mircea Eliade describes in his works how, for the traditional man, the construction of a house is a repetition of the creation of the world. When the foundations of a new home are laid, it always requires a “sacrifice” or a grounding in the center of the world (Axis Mundi). This center is a vertical axis that connects the underworld (the world of the dead, ancestors, the past) with the sky (the future, the spirit). Consequently, according to Eliade, you cannot build an intimate and sacred space “above” without having asked for permission and without having connected with the roots “below.”

Construction is a crisis of transformation. The transition from a state of “having no home” to “having a home” strips away the ego’s defenses. It is then that the deepest archetypes are activated:

On a personal level: You build your new identity and maturity, striving toward your Self.

On an ancestral and collective level: You transform into a sovereign ruler who lays the foundations for the next generation, which requires you to stand face to face with the legacy (emotional, psychological, and karmic) of those before you.

In Law: My Home Is My Castle

When we look at the home hermetically, archetypally, and through the prism of law, we discover that legal science does not view the home merely as a building, but as a spatial expression of human dignity and inviolability. In law, the home is a sacred sanctuary where state power stops and the individual becomes an absolute sovereign. Today, the invasion of the home occurs more and more frequently, and the fact that people voluntarily “expose” their entire home and everything happening within it to the whole world is an expression of the lack of a home within themselves, of its inviolability, intimacy, and sacredness. Inviting the whole world or thousands of people into your home is not a good idea. And anyone who has tried it or continues to do so would do well to reflect on why they do it and what they lack to do it. And above all – whom and what they are inviting (admitting) into their home.

The expression “my home is my castle” originates from a historic judicial ruling by the English judge and jurist Sir Edward Coke in the famous Semayne’s Case of 1604. In it, he recorded the famous words:

“The house of every one is to him as his Castle and Fortress, as well for his defence against injury and violence, as for his repose.”

With this ruling, Coke sets a clear boundary against royal power. Even state sheriffs and tax collectors do not have the right to invade a private home without an explicit, strictly justified legal warrant. Sir Edward Coke actually codified in secular law something that had existed as a cosmic and religious law for millennia. The Romans had the maxim Domus sua cuique est tutissimum refugium – The home is the safest refuge for everyone. Invading someone else’s home was considered sacrilege because the lares (the guardian spirits of the family) resided there.

In the Book of Deuteronomy (24:10-11) there is an astonishing legal text: “When you make a loan of any kind to your neighbor, do not go into their house to get what they are offering as a pledge. Stay outside and let the neighbor to whom you are making the loan bring the pledge out to you.” Even when someone owes you money and you are in the right, Divine law forbids you from crossing their threshold, so as not to humiliate their dignity within their personal sanctuary.

In a hermetic sense, the body is the home of the soul, and the house is the home of the body. Law recognizes this analogy: violating the boundaries of the home (a search without a judicial warrant) is treated with almost the same gravity as physical violence against the person.

Law proves what psychologists assert: the home is not a commodity; it is a territory of the spirit. Therefore, when the law states “my home is my castle,” it does not mean thick stone walls and weapons. The law proclaims that the threshold of your home is an invisible yet sacred boundary that transforms an ordinary person into an independent ruler of their own life. An attempted invasion of it can manifest in both the visible and the invisible worlds. That is why it is important for the home to be consecrated, cleaned, and for us to be mindful of what we keep and whom we admit into it. This is also where the rituals of the Church originate — though it has filled its temple with merchants.

In order not to make hollow claims, I will provide an example from the last few years. Since the house in which I live and work is located opposite a monastery (where I was baptized as a child), the view of it is before my eyes every day. Last year, the narrow alley (measuring only 3 meters wide and separating my house from the monastery) was completely overflowing with cars so that people could vote in the monastery courtyard for those who would rule over them. I pondered for how many years (in Bulagria) first the schools, and now even the churches, have been turned into an extension of greed and corruption. We can only imagine the energy of intention with which people go to vote for politicians inside a church. This is why the symbolism hidden behind events always reveals the bigger picture, as long as we make the effort to think and synthesize connections.

In both Bulgarian and international law, the concept of “the care of a good custodian” (originating from the Roman bonus pater familias) obligates a person to approach a property or an asset with attention, reason, and responsibility. In psychological terms, this means that the right of ownership or use requires maturity (the integration of the Ego/the Self). It is not enough to simply rent or own something (a body, an ancestral legacy, a house). The Universe and the Law require you to invest psychic energy into it. If you are a poor custodian of your body — it falls ill. If you are a poor custodian of your ancestral memory — the traumas repeat themselves. The “rent” of life is paid precisely through the quality of this care.

The institute of acquisitive prescription (from the Roman Usucapio – to take through use) is one of the deepest philosophical phenomena in law. It states the following: If an owner has abandoned their property and for a period of years (for example, 10 years) another person possesses it openly, undisturbed, and cares for it continuously, the law strips the ownership from the first and grants it to the second.

This is a triumph of real presence over formal right. The land (and the unconscious) belongs to the one who cultivates it, not to the one who simply holds a document for it. In the context of lineage, you may be a “genetic heir” to great ancestors (holding a “title deed” to a powerful lineage), but if you do not care for this potential, you lose it. Conversely, a person who was “adopted” or an outsider to an environment can, through love, care, and grounding, build a deeper root in that house or community than the blood heir. Time and care give birth to the root, not mere biology.

Modern scams involving acquisitive prescription are a perfect example of what Jung calls the archetype of the Trickster (the Swindler / the Shadow). When we sever the sacred, moral connection with the land and turn it merely into a tool for rapid enrichment, crime is born.

Prescription fraud is an attempt to “steal a root” by artificial means — to mimic care and presence that are factually absent, through false witnesses and documents.

In a metaphorical sense, these are the people who attempt to appear spiritually evolved or emotionally wealthy (to demonstrate a “Home”), without actually having performed the heavy, years-long inner work of digging foundations and grounding. The law, much like the psyche, attempts to balance the stability of the old (the owner) and the energy of the new (the possessor). Fraud emerges when the ego attempts to cheat Time.

Dreams, Fairy Tales, and Myths: What Do They Tell Us About the Home?

In Dreams: Jung proved that when we dream of an unfamiliar house or discover new, secret rooms within our own home, our unconscious is communicating that we are ready to integrate a new, unknown part of our personality (a new talent, a repressed emotion, or a calling). If the house in the dream is collapsing, our Ego-structure is in crisis.

In Fairy Tales: Think about fairy tales — everything of importance occurs around or inside the house. The gingerbread house of the witch in “Hansel and Gretel” is a symbol of the shadow of the Great Mother archetype, who wishes to devour the children. The Beast’s castle in Beauty and the Beast reflects his depressed, wild, and untamed Shadow, which languishes and sinks into thorns until the Anima (Beauty) infuses love and life into it. The castle or the house in a fairy tale always expresses the psychic state of its ruler.

In Mythology: The first home of humanity is the Cave or the Sacred Center (Axis Mundi). In myths, building a home is a repetition of Cosmogony — an act of creation through which man transforms Chaos (wild nature) into Cosmos (an ordered, protected world).

With Whom and Where We Live

Look around you. Where and with whom are you living right now? If you are 35+ and still sharing a floor (or floors) with your parents under the guise of false morality, concern, and loyalty, you are simply refusing to grow up. If you live in a perfect palace but feel coldness and sterility inside, you are inhabiting a golden cage of your own Ego. If you are living with a man or a woman with whom you are merely roommates, yet you continue to delude yourself that you are not alone and that you are a “family” before society, you are caught in the snare of the very same trap that often repeats the vicious family circle you supposedly escaped long ago.

Yes, it is precisely an escape that, in the recent past until not long ago, drove young women to leap out of their homes at the age of 16, 18, or 20. If you ask them today why, most of the gibberish about “great love” will deflate under the weight of the truth that, for one reason or another, they simply wanted to run away from home. Unfortunately, in most such cases, these young women find themselves in a mirror-image family model, and history repeats itself in the same vicious circle.

The argument for the “traditional family” and “how generations lived before” is the most common psychological shield I have ever heard. This is a classic rationalization — people use isolated historical facts to justify their unconscious dependence and fear of independence, often using economic considerations as a shield. 100-150 years ago, the cohabitation of three generations in a single patriarchal house was not a matter of “emotional closeness,” but a strict economic necessity for survival.

Today, we have no need to till the field together just to avoid starving to death. Modern cohabitation in large “ancestral homes” is not an economic symbiosis, but a psychological codependency. Today, there is no hierarchy, but rather eternal domestic warfare over who buys the bread and how the grandchildren are raised. This destroys all three generations. In the past, the land required many hands to cultivate it. The house was a small factory. Back then, there was a strict hierarchy and an absolute internal law. The Patriarch commanded, and the young obeyed unconditionally. There was a clear structure, harsh as it may have been. Today, even if the old law still exists, the new conditions and the rhythm of the evolution of consciousness demand new laws — laws that respect hierarchy and stand upon the integrated, reflected experience of the past. This experience is wisdom. Without knowing the past, we fail to recognize the present, and the future will continue to repeat the past until it is integrated and transformed. And this occurs slowly and gradually on an individual level.

Another phenomenon that I have been observing over the past 15 years is how many people do not feel at ease “at home” in the place where they live. Usually, when we find ourselves in a given location, within the very first few seconds we internally know whether we “belong there” or not. Despite this, many people, due to various considerations, desires, or dependencies, remain in that place. No matter what they do, however, they can never manage to feel it as a home. Women typically possess a stronger radar for this, yet they often silence it; for if they were to heed it, they would no longer be able to hide behind their shadow — which frequently conceals that of the devouring mother and actually serves as a bridge to their animus.

More and more frequently in everyday conversations, I hear someone share that they do not want to go back home. The home is the symbol of that intimate realm which reigns supreme in psychological terms. For you to not want to return home, for whatever reason, clearly demonstrates that you have lost the intimate. And regardless of whether you live with someone, with your family, or alone, it would be wise to ask yourself the question — what is it that terrifies me about going home? What is this truth that I refuse to see?

The other polarity also exists — for a person to encapsulate themselves within their home and refuse to go outside. In that case, the question is: what am I hiding from the world, and what am I running away from externally that I am concealing in my home, meaning, within myself? Am I afraid of others seeing it, or am I rather terrified of seeing it within myself? Am I captive to my own projections, or to those of others?

Not infrequently during sessions, clients share with me how their spouse does not wish to live with them, yet they remain “in the name of the family.” This remark, though seemingly “noble,” is always a red flag that the very person insisting they “want to save the family” is the one whose shadow has occupied and siphoned the space, punishing the other with their presence. This is a parasitic, forceful, and controlling energy. No family is saved through violence and the “re-education” of the other person, who is expected to see “the truth.” Paradoxically, the moment they actually do see it, they will eliminate the parasitic energy instantly, while also discovering their own shadow — because without this confrontation, nothing will change. Such relationships are mirror-like, and the roles of victim and perpetrator rotate in a vicious circle.

The way we care for our space demonstrates whether we are ready for change. You can call in a television crew to give you a free renovation, but if your psychic world is in decay, the new home will quickly turn into the old swamp. Space always resets itself to the level of our consciousness. It happens, of course, that when our intention is pure and clear, even if we are in difficulty, unknown friends arrive to help turn the idea of our dreamed home into reality.

Individual and Collective Life

Carl Jung makes a very clear distinction between the existence of the traditional (tribal/collective) man and the modern individual. In the past, people lived entirely within the collective consciousness — you were not an individual; you were “the son of John” or “the daughter-in-law of Peter.” Personal identity and self-actualization did not exist as concepts. At the same time, it was no accident that people used to ask “Whose people do you belong to?”, as the lineage indicates potential and tasks, and the Bulgarian proverb “a monkey gives birth to monkeys, a gourd gives birth to gourds” carries encoded information.

Today, in the 21st century, the human psyche has evolved. Modern man has a need for individuation — to discover who he is outside the matrix of ancestral and collective expectations. Jung points out that the greatest harm to a child is the unlived life of their parents. When you remain living with your parents at 30+, you cease to live your own life and begin to relive or service theirs. Though this holds entirely true even if you are on the other side of the world, having run away from your roots, which nevertheless continue to live inside you.

Care vs. Enmeshment: There is an immense difference between helping, loving, and caring for your aging parents (which is mature and humane) and sharing a roof with them, allowing them to control your emotional climate.

Psychological maturity requires separation. In Hermeticism, for something new to be born, the elements must first divide (Separatio). If you do not separate yourself physically and spatially, you never become a true adult. You remain in the position of a child who secretly hates their parents because they are in the way, yet lacks the courage to leave under the pretext of “taking care of them.”

Since Carl Jung also views the home as a material symbol of the human psyche, according to him, the basement represents the unconscious, while the upper floors represent the conscious Ego. When a person lives in a space “detached” from the earth — in a box that is absolutely identical to that of their neighbor — a crisis of individuation occurs. The lack of uniqueness in the space makes it difficult for the mind to project its own identity onto the environment.

Location, View, History

The location, history, and architectural blueprints of a home are the geological strata of the unconscious. The earth beneath our feet possesses memory, and the way we relate to it reveals our psychological maturity.

Who lived here before us? This is the first question in the psychoanalysis of space. Every house has its own “spirit of the place” (Genius Loci). If you buy an old house, you are also buying its ancestral and energetic matrix. If violence or severe illnesses occurred there — or, conversely, beautiful memories and high culture — these unconscious models remain within the walls as an emotional imprint. This is why the expression “be careful what you say, for even the walls have ears” exists across various cultures and languages. When a person moves in without a purification process, they often begin to unconsciously repeat someone else’s fate. It is vital to examine: whose home are we living in? Whose psychological matrix do we find ourselves in? Our own, or are we repeating someone else’s? Are we processing (transforming) it, or are we stuck in the same swamp? Even if the walls are new, is the interior furniture outdated? Is it valuable, or do we need to replace it?

The View as a Horizon of the Mind: Where do your windows look out to? Toward the wide horizon and the mountain (a striving for the spirit, freedom, and scale) or toward the neighbor’s wall and the gray prison of the inner courtyard (a constricted ego, fear of the world, encapsulation)? In Hermeticism, the view is the direction in which you channel your vital life energy (Psyche).

The earth beneath our feet remembers. Moving into a house without researching who lived in it and what stories its walls conceal is pure psychological blindness. However, an even greater absurdity occurs when we build a brand-new house. We pour foundations, purchase expensive materials, and… right there on the architectural blueprint, we draw a separate floor for the parents or for our already grown-up children. Parents who, regardless of their status and means in society, refuse to allow their grown children to separate.

This is an architectural castration of the future. You are building a new home, but within its foundations, you are bricking in the old ancestral trap and codependency. Because that new, large floor will not save your children — it will simply leave them as eternal tenants within the space of your ambitions, control, and fear of the lack of meaning with which to fill your own life. A true alchemical vessel requires one space for one mature identity. Everything else is a horror story with a modern facade.

If, for instance, your home is located opposite a church, a school, or is built on a site where significant collective events have taken place, the space carries that memory — and consequently, that energy — which provides clear indications of what can and should happen there. Look around, search, and discover the symbolism for yourself.

When we live in a large apartment building, the collective energy of the people there also inhabits and becomes part of your space. This is why movement is essential.

Psychological Effects of Living in Large Apartment Buildings

In large apartment buildings, thin walls and noise disrupt these boundaries. The psyche perceives external sounds as an invasion of personal space, which keeps the nervous system in a state of constant background anxiety.

Living in mass-produced “socialist-era apartment blocks” and the modern skyscrapers of megacities represents two different sides of the same global process: urbanization. In the psychology of architecture and urban sociology, these two phenomena are viewed as distinct spatial attempts to cope with overpopulation, yet they possess fundamentally different psychological dynamics.

From a purely evolutionary standpoint, people gather where the resources are (jobs, education, healthcare). Our psyche is programmed to sacrifice spatial comfort for the sake of economic security.

Psychological Adaptation: Man is one of the most adaptive creatures. We grow accustomed to the noise, the lack of space, and anonymity, turning them into the “new normal.” However, the price for this is often paid subconsciously — through higher levels of anxiety, insomnia, and the need for constant digital stimulation.

Ultimately, whether it was a communist-era popular buildings or today we have a luxury skyscrapers, high-rise construction is a compromise between economic reality and our biological need for space, nature, and silence.

Contemporary environmental psychologists and urbanists (such as Colin Ellard and Robert Gifford) identify several key phenomena characteristic of people living in large apartment buildings:

Large residential complexes give birth to a profound psychological and social paradox — overpopulation combined with radical loneliness. Constant cohabitation with hundreds of strangers in elevators and shared corridors leads to what is known as “social saturation.” To protect itself from this excess noise and energetic pollution, the human psyche activates a defense mechanism of psychological distancing and sought-after anonymity. Within these spaces, the phenomenon of the “loss of secured space,” as defined by urban planners, also manifests: since common areas are perceived as belonging to no one, responsibility becomes diluted.

A person maintains cleanliness only up to their own threshold, turning the external environment into a source of background anxiety. While socialist-era blocks attempted to impose an artificial collectivism through standardization, modern skyscrapers encapsulate luxury within vertical ecosystems that replace grounding with an illusion of status, yet deepen social isolation. Today, even without communism, alas, people continue to want to look and live in the exact same way. And they do so completely voluntarily. Unfortunately, many of them lack imagination, and consequently, originality.

The “Detached Root” Syndrome (Oscar Newman)

Loss of Safe Space: In his classic work Defensible Space, architect and urban psychologist Oscar Newman proves that residents of large apartment blocks experience a lower sense of responsibility toward common areas (corridors, spaces between buildings). Since no one feels these zones as “their own,” they are easily neglected, which intensifies the feeling of weightlessness and insecurity.

Vertical Isolation: The higher a person lives (above the 5th or 6th floor), the more psychologically detached they become from the earth, nature, and street life. Studies show that this can increase levels of depressive states, especially among mothers with young children and the elderly, for whom going downstairs requires effort.

Living in a large apartment block demands conscious efforts to compensate for spatial deficits — for instance, through personalizing the interior, seeking out greenery, and building small micro-communities within the condominium.

The Le Corbusier Effect and “Boxes for Living”

The famous architect Le Corbusier created the concept of the apartment block as a “machine for living.” Although his idea was to foster an organized community, psychologists later noted that gray, monotonous, and geometric architecture without natural curves and greenery increases levels of the stress hormone cortisol. The human brain evolved in a natural environment, and the lack of a view toward a living foothill or park space suppresses the creative impulse and cognitive recovery.

The Poetics of Space, Gaston Bachelard

“Space calls for action, and before action, the imagination is at work. It mows and plows. We should have to speak of the benefits of all these imaginary actions. Psychoanalysis has made numerous observations on outward-projecting behavior, on extroverted characters who are ready at any moment to give exterior expression to their intimate impressions.”

The Poetics of Space, Gaston Bachelard

The French philosopher and phenomenologist Gaston Bachelard wrote one of the most incredible works on the psychology of the home – The Poetics of Space. He introduced the concept of “topoanalysis” (the psychoanalysis of spaces). In this stroke of genius, Bachelard guides us toward the home, which is our very first corner of the Universe. It is a psychic integration of our past, present, and future.

Bachelard argues that the home in which we grew up (and the home we build) is not merely geometry, but a beehive of memory. When a person begins to construct a new space, they unconsciously recreate or attempt to repair the “primeval home” of their childhood and of their ancestors. According to Bachelard, descending into the basement and laying the foundations is a striving toward the “roots of being,” where we meet the shadows of the past in order to extract from them stability for the future.

Bachelard’s core message is that if a person does not possess an intimate and conscious space, their psyche scatters into the Cosmos. The home is the place where the Spirit grounds itself in Matter. He points out that the house provides us with both the “illusion of stability” and the physical framework within which our mind learns to dream.

Both Bachelard and Jung, as well as many other scholars, describe the house as a vertical being — from the basement (where our unconscious fears are buried) to the attic (where we structure rational thought, or more precisely, the Mind).

I remember that as a child, during the summer when I visited my mother’s village in the Plovdiv region to stay with her parents, I adored going down into the large cellar to search for treasures. And even today, when I imagine being there, the feeling is just as vivid. The cellar was organized with beautiful shelves stocked with winter preserves and compotes. It was no ordinary cellar; it was an entire treasury. Reaching the very end, the cellar made a slight turn, as I felt the cold draft of the stone walls and the aroma of wood and moisture. After the turn, there was a small space reaching the wall, which also had a tiny window looking out toward the street. It was exactly there that it was filled with old objects, meticulously arranged, which seemed to me exceptionally valuable and interesting.

Thinking about it now, I also remember experiencing that tingling sensation of discovery, and I couldn’t wait for the next adventurous descent into the dark and the unknown. In a strange way, going down there brought me a sense of coziness. I would always discover something valuable, which I would then bring out into the light of the courtyard under the rays of the warm sun, and continue to play with it. Back then, I didn’t yet know that years later I would become an analytical and alchemical psychologist, working precisely with people’s shadow, so that together we could descend and discover the treasures hidden within the unconscious.

Digital Exhibitionism: Whom Are We Inviting Into Our Home?

The greatest paradox of contemporary society lies in the contrast between the struggle for physical inviolability and the voluntary surrender of personal space in the digital world. While people are rightfully outraged by the intrusion of institutions into their homes, they simultaneously and voluntarily open the gates of their fortresses through social networks.

The “streaming” of children, bedrooms, family dinners, and intimate moments is digital exhibitionism and a desperate psychological cry for attention in the era of urban anonymity. In exchange for dopamine signals (“likes”), modern man trades his sacred space, transforming it from a sanctuary into a public stage set. In a hermetic and energetic sense, this constant exposure to foreign eyes destroys the aura of the home, removes the invisible protective boundary of the individual, and turns the once inaccessible castle into a digital reality show where the shadows of parodic grotesque and falsehood dance.

Returning Home

In a world of concrete beehives, digital window displays, and distorted material laws, the true fortress is not built of bricks alone – they are a symbol for the construction and expansion of consciousness, culture, and shared values. When a family is united in spirit and around a shared hearth, it possesses the power to transform even the most confined urban space into a personal temple. The exit from the urban trap, however, does not require a radical escape from civilization.

Today, more and more people are rediscovering balance through a new model of living – the creation of small, beautiful houses amidst nature, located on the periphery of major cities. This architectural hybrid offers the best of both worlds: it maintains access to the economic and cultural resources of the megacity, while returning to the individual the right to personal land, a clear horizon, and silence. Choosing such a space means returning to the natural law of grounding. Ultimately, architecture may offer us boxes, but it depends on our individual consciousness whether we will remain prisoners within them, or whether we will build our true, natural, and spiritual castle.

At the end of this article, I offer you a key to the Home by Blaga Dimitrova, and I challenge you, dear reader, to dive deeper within yourself and to reflect on what your current home symbolizes and reveals.

Homeless… Why do I need a home?

The world calls to me through the window –
unbuttoned, endless, universal!
Yet a window is needed to behold it.

That is how my vision is wired.

From the inside out – a longing.
From the inside out – a wonder.
From the inside out – toward everything.

Homeless – means worldless.

I stand on the threshold and wonder:
What meaning do I infuse into the symbol of “Home”?
What is its actual core?

What is the home today?

The Key, 1987, Blaga Dimitrova

Tsvetina Petkova

Tsvetina Petkova is an analytical psychologist and a lawyer. Founder of Club Mangum Opus. Her practice and research focus on dream analysis, mythology, alchemy & hermetic science.

→ Sessions & Consultations

The Shadow can be derived from the contents of the personal unconscious (personal experiences, memories, and situations acquired throughout an individual’s life). To become conscious of it, one must inevitably face the dark aspects of their personality – present and real. If an individual refuses to do so, they unconsciously project these traits onto others, turning the world into a mirror of their own unknown face. Working with the Shadow is a necessary condition for any form of self-knowledge, though it is precisely this work that meets the strongest resistance.

While the Shadow is always of the same gender as the subject, the source of projections concerning the opposite sex takes the form of a contra-sexual figure – the Anima in men and the Animus in women. These often emerge from behind the Shadow, bringing new and complex problems. If you are not conscious of your Animus, it will “marry” your Shadow, and vice versa.

The Anima is the personification of all female psychological tendencies in a man, whereas the Animus is the personification of all male psychological tendencies in a woman. They will always express what you lack, as they possess a complementary nature. As archetypes, they form part of the collective unconscious – collectively inherited patterns of behavior that are autonomous, making them particularly difficult to integrate into the personality.

Just as the Persona serves as a natural bridge to the outer world, the function of the Anima and Animus is to create a connection to the depths of the psyche. The integration of the Shadow, or the realization of the personal unconscious, marks the first stage in the analytical psychology established by Jung. Without this critical process and step, the recognition and integration of the Anima and Animus remain impossible.

Following the recognition and integration of the personal unconscious and the Shadow, the recognition of the Anima and Animus follows. They, in turn, form the bridge to the most fundamental figure yet to appear – the archetype of the Self, symbolizing the individual’s wholeness and totality.

Animus: The man inside

The Animus possesses a complementary nature, providing the woman with qualities she does not consciously possess: Logos, structure, discipline, and will. It is autonomous, acting as a “foreign body” within the psyche; thus, it is often experienced as an external destiny – for example, as a tyrant (Cronus) or an idealized figure (Eros). Because it is an archetype, it is not merely another “personal problem” but a part of the universal human experience.

The Animus is the collective image of the masculine principle within the female psyche – a collective primal image derived from the father figure, male relatives, and extending even further into the inherited psychic archetypes of masculinity within the nation and the collective unconscious as a whole.

The Animus (the inner man) is the personification of all masculine psychological tendencies in a woman, manifesting in both positive and negative aspects. However, unlike the Anima in men, which often appears as erotic fantasies or moods, the Animus tends to take the form of hidden, “sacred” convictions regarding our own assumptions. Just as the character of the Anima in a man is shaped by his mother, the Animus is profoundly influenced by the woman’s father.

The father endows his daughter’s Animus with unquestionable and irrefutable “true” convictions – beliefs that almost never take into account the woman’s own personal reality as it truly is. The negative aspects of the Animus lure women away from all human relationships of proximity and intimacy, personifying a cocoon of dreamy thoughts, filled with desires and judgments about how things “should be.” This state effectively isolates the woman from the reality of life.

The Voice of Paralysis

The unyielding, unconscious opinion of the Animus can lead to an unnatural passivity and a paralysis of all feelings, or to deep-seated insecurity. In the depths of a woman’s being, the Animus whispers: “You are hopeless. What is the point of trying? There is no sense in doing anything. Life will never change for the better.”

Just as with the shadow aspect of the Anima (the Devouring Mother), the Animus also assumes a vampiric aspect – the Devouring Father (Cronus).

“One of the [negative] activities of the Animus in a woman’s life is to steal, to suck life out of other people. Such a woman becomes a vampire because she has no life in herself. But she needs life and therefore has to take it where she finds it. The negative devil-Animus kills every feminine aspect in life.”

The Feminine in Fairy Tales”, Marie-Louise von Franz

Unfortunately, whenever an individual is possessed by the Anima or Animus, it feels as though these thoughts and feelings are our own. The Ego identifies with them to such an extent that it is incapable of distancing itself and seeing them for what they truly are. One is effectively possessed by the unconscious, and only after the possession subsides does one realize with a sense of dread that they have said and done things diametrically opposed to their actual thoughts and feelings.

Similar to the Anima, the Animus does not consist solely of negative qualities such as cynicism, cruelty, empty talk, or silent, stubborn, and malicious ideas. It also possesses a deeply positive and valuable side – it is precisely the Animus that can build a bridge to the Self through its creative activity. If a woman becomes conscious of who and what her Animus is, it can be transformed into an invaluable inner companion, gifting her with the masculine qualities of initiative, courage, objectivity, and spiritual wisdom.

Animus possidendi: The possessed Animus

In law, the concept of Animus possidendi (the intent to possess) is a mandatory element of possession. It represents the subjective psychic moment in which an individual holds a property with the clear consciousness and will to possess it as their own. Transposed into the territory of analytical psychology, this concept acquires a formidable, yet exceptionally precise symbolic and real meaning: Who actually possesses the “territory” of your psyche? Who is your Animus today, and what does he possess?

Corpus (physical possession) without Animus (the intent to possess) leaves you in the role of a mere custodian of someone else’s property. In an analytical and psychological context, this is the woman who “serves a foreign interest” while under the illusion that she is living her own life. In law, you can hold an object for decades and never become its owner if you lack the animus – the will to hold it as your own.

In the psyche, however, the situation is more perilous, though the symbolism is identical: a woman may “hold” titles, a career, morals, and behaviors that appear to be hers, only to discover that she is merely the administrator (detentor) of another’s will and intent. In such a situation, she exists in a state of detentio (mere holding) – guarding and maintaining a foreign ambition, opinion, and behavior, thinking it is her life. The reverse is also possible, as in the case of an possessed Animus – he may hold and possess the woman. Therefore, it is of vital importance that she discovers who and what her Animus truly is.

When the woman recognizes that she has grown up under the dominion of the Cronus archetype, for instance, her Animus is often in a state of “bad faith possession” (possessio malae fidei). It is heavily influenced by external authorities, paternal projections, and ancestral debts – either obeying blindly or rebelling fiercely against them. Both, however, are manifestations of a weak and unconscious Animus – being hyper-critical or hyper-combative.

Frequently, a woman believes that her decisions, her ambitions, and even her anger are her own (her Animus). Yet, upon deeper analysis, it appears she is merely a holder (detentor) of a foreign will. The Father-Cronus has “registered” his expectations into her unconscious ledger. She fights someone else’s battles (as in the case of the lawyer), thinking she is exercising her own power, while in fact, she is serving a foreign interest.

When we speak of Animus possession, we recognize it by its absolute rigidity. It is the voice that operates in absolute categories: “You must,” “You are obligated,” “You will never succeed without…” This is the negative face of the legal norm and the letter of the law, devoid of justice. In this state, the woman’s Anima is possessed by the Animus (losing its connection to feelings, the body, and intuition), transforming her into an “intellectual automaton.” She wins cases in court, but she loses the case for her own life.

When observing Animus possession in a woman, she is invariably convinced of her own absolute rightness, dismissive of others’ views, and believes she possesses universal knowledge. Often, in such situations, her behavior becomes fanatical and dogmatic. Animus possession manifests precisely as fanaticism and rigidity. In these cases, the woman does not hold an opinion; the opinion holds her.

Every attempt at dialogue transforms into a battle, and when logical arguments are exhausted, the possessed Animus retreats into the role of the “victim.” This is the moment where Logos is absent and the shadow Anima takes the stage – imposing guilt through “ill health” or “tears.” Here, the Animus is not a protector but an internal inquisitor, isolating the woman within the tower of her own righteousness, turning those around her into “devils” simply because they dare to speak the Truth.

Thus, the seemingly “meek and serving” mother, for instance, reveals a Shadow that is far from “submissive and holy.” This is clearly seen in her first marriage to Cronus, as well as in her second marriage to the “Saint.” On the surface, everyone appears different, but in the depths, the hidden unconscious threads that bind them are revealed. Though they seem like opposites, they are, in fact, parts of the same whole, striving toward union and unity – through the expansion of consciousness.

“As long as the Shadow is not conscious, one projects it onto others and thus inevitably ‘marries’ one’s own unconscious darkness.”

C.G. Jung, “Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self”, Collected Works Vol. 9, Part 2

The Transmutation at this stage requires a psychological “action for recovery” (Rei Vindicatio) – a claim for the restoration of possession. The woman must realize that while this knowledge, this power, and this will are within her “holding” (detentio), the intention (Animus) must now become hers – to recognize what it truly is and whether it belongs to her at all. Only then can the golden opportunity arise for the woman to transform Animus possidendi into an Autonomous Logos – clarity regarding what she herself possesses and what, in turn, possesses her. This is the moment when she ceases to be an object of foreign possession and becomes the Subject of her own right.

According to Carl Jung and Marie-Louise von Franz, when the father is a “Saint” (excessively “good,” passive, weak, or a “martyr”), he fails to exercise his paternal authority (Logos); he sets no boundaries, never says “no,” and fails to confront the Shadow. In such cases, a vacuum of authority is created within the daughter. Since the father is “empty” (devoured) of masculine strength (Animus), the daughter’s psyche attempts to fill this void. She “installs” within herself an artificial, hypertrophied Animus to protect herself in a world where the father was incapable of offering protection – for example, failing to say “stop” to a tyrannical mother and failing to defend his daughter.

In such women, Logos is not a tool for thinking but an inquisition of opinions that brooks no dissent. They use their weakness – tears and the imposition of guilt as a manipulative weapon, transforming any attempt at truth into a “diabolical temptation” that threatens their illusory rightness. Such a woman does not think or reason independently; she is incapable of analysis; instead, she “quotes principles and opinions.”

Her Animus is a collective voice that judges everything that does not fit into its narrow frame. In these cases, the woman experiences the world as a terrifying and horrific place where she lacks healthy boundaries, will, and the strength to live independently and freely. The more she clings to her “opinions,” the more logic and reason evade her, and the more terrified of life she feels. She IS the opinion itself. This is Possession through Morality, which paralyzes everyone around her.

Unlike the woman shaped by the “good saint” father figure, the woman whose father is possessed by the Cronus archetype develops a strategic and combative Animus. Since the father was an active tyrant, the daughter forges her Animus as both “sword and shield.” Her problem is not fanaticism, but hyper-functionality. She is obsessed with the need to “fix,” to “build,” and to fight battles (often not her own) to prove her capacity and competence before Cronus.

This is possession through action and hyperactivity, which often leads to exhaustion – until the woman recognizes her personal shadow as the gateway behind which the gold of Saturn is hidden: the internal dethroning of Cronus and the transmutation of action into wisdom, clarity, and creative origin.

The Transmutation of the Masculine Principle

Palingenesia (Rebirth) in this context is the transition from “I must” (the mere holding of a foreign will) to “I am the owner” (animus possidendi). This is the moment when Logos ceases to be the “prosecuting attorney” and becomes the guarantor of personal freedom. Rebirth is the moment when the subject stops being a “territory” ruled by archetypal forces and becomes the rightful Owner.

Here, the subjective element is critical: without the woman’s will to declare “This is who I Am,” the process remains in dissolution. Through the internal action for recovery (rei vindicatio), she reclaims possession and performs an alchemical transmutation – turning the dead letter of a foreign law into a living, autonomous Logos.

In the case of the woman lawyer, the transmutation of the Animus does not signify a renunciation of its power; on the contrary, it represents the transmutation of that power’s “lead” into “gold” and its reintegration. The path to the golden mean passes through two parallel processes of “smelting”:

➤ Transforming “Martyrdom”: The daughter takes the passive suffering and “servitude” of her mother and refines it into a capacity for compassion, deep intuition, and service to something Higher. Thus, she gains the opportunity to stop being a “servant” to others’ moods and “affairs,” beginning instead to use her empathy to decipher invisible systemic dynamics. This is the moment when “blind obedience” is transformed into insight.

➤ Transforming the “Will to Fight”: Instead of directing her Animus toward conflict with external tyrants, she begins to direct it toward building sustainable structures. Her Logos is then no longer a sword, but an architectural blueprint.

The union of these two forces births Wise Possession. The woman lawyer no longer fights others’ battles from a place of anger; instead, she builds her own territory (in her relationships, her home, and her work) from a place of compassionate structure. She combines legal precision with the strength of a heart that knows when to set a boundary and when to extend a hand. Thus, she ceases to be a “weapon” in the hands of Cronus and transforms into a Sovereign who possesses both her will and her tenderness.

She begins to realize that the justice she seeks lies at the core of self-care – enabling her to be of service to others – and in the power of clarity, wisdom, and truth, through which she knows when to wield her sword and her shield. Her Animus is transmuted from the shadow of Cronus into the potential of Saturn, symbolizing the archetype of the Wise Old Man. He is no longer an inquisitor but an internal pillar providing structure, boundaries, and objective meaning. This is the “salt” remaining after the alchemical burning – the sustainable law of personal experience that replaces foreign dogmas.

The transmutation of the masculine principle transforms the shadow of Cronus into the blessing of Saturn – moving from the tyranny of external opinion to the silence of one’s own internal law, where the woman finally stands as the rightful owner of her own world.

The Positive Animus: Saturn (The Wise Old Man)

Saturn is the Roman god of time, agriculture, wealth (the harvest), and periodic renewal. His astrological symbol (glyph) depicts the cross of matter and the crescent of the soul, symbolizing the materialization of the intangible. This archetype is intrinsically linked to the physical experience of human life. It creates structure, tangibility, and form where they are absent, serving as a bridge between ethereal and human dimensions. Saturn is also deeply connected to the process of manifestation, governing the labor, discipline, and dedication required to ground a vision into reality.

Since Saturn is linked to the physical dimension, he is inherently connected to time. Indeed, he is the Roman version of Cronus – the Greek god of linear, quantitative time. Saturn serves as a reminder that organic matter comes with an expiration date, measuring the quality of our time through our own mortality. While many associate Pluto with death and rebirth, few realize that Saturn also governs death (his astrological symbol is often seen as representing the Scythe of Death).

In ancient alchemy, Saturn symbolized lead and was associated with the Nigredo phase – a crucial stage of the Magnum Opus, where blackening, decay, and putrefaction were necessary precursors to transmutation. In our spiritual evolution, it is Saturn who rules the moment of our individuation and the personal transformations linked to the Shadow.

The ticking of time carries with it the elements of responsibility, cause, and consequence. Saturn teaches us that we must take responsibility for constructing our own reality, which necessitates the building of character. For this reason, this archetype is also linked to personal authority and the maturity required to exercise it wisely.

Saturn reminds us that the inability to take responsibility for our lives has its consequences – it is no coincidence that in astrology, he is associated with Karma. As the god of agriculture and time, he reminds us that we reap what we sow, and the harvest is the ultimate symbol of our karma.

Archetypes hold mirrors before our Personas and Shadows. Saturn is an archetype inclined to unveil the shadow aspects of people, revealing our relationship with consequences, responsibility, time, limitations, commitment, and labor. If we act unconsciously through the Shadow, we can easily misinterpret limitation as personal inadequacy and project this onto the archetype of Saturn. Therefore, it is crucial to understand that it is not always a matter of personal inability or inadequacy, but rather a question of where our potential has been constricted.

Saturn can also illuminate our beliefs and fears regarding responsibility, inviting us to overcome any shame, guilt, or blame we project onto claiming our role in the creation of our own reality. Saturn reveals where we resist commitment, highlighting where we might be holding ourselves back due to fear.

He can shed light on our beliefs concerning death and the race against time, manifesting in our neglect of aging bodies and old age in general. He serves as an indicator of our relationship with the father archetype, the patriarchy, and the overall living thread of structure within our own lives.

From the Shadow of Cronus to the Potential of Saturn

Saturn is not merely a symbol of pain and limitation; he is the psychological process through which one transforms ignorance and restriction into consciousness. He is the guardian of the threshold and the gate to freedom, yet this freedom can only be won through self-knowledge.

According to Liz Greene, Saturn forces us to confront our inner void and fears, only to discover that they are not external sentences, but unassimilated parts of our own psyche. Through the discipline of Saturn, we cease to be victims of fate (or paternal authority) and transform into the authors of our own character.

“His lineage is ancient and impeccable, and his incarnations in the worlds of myth, religion, folklore, and fairy tales are countless and diverse. But they are always colored by the idea that instead of running away from the devil, if we approach and kiss him on the lips, he turns into the sun.”

Liz Greene, Saturn: A New Look at an Old Devil

Anima and Animus: Paths towards Individuation

The dance between Anima and Animus lies at the heart of individuation. Jung describes the Anima as the archetype of life and calls the Animus the archetype of meaning. He presents this dance through the concept of the Syzygy -the divine couple, united in a Sacred Marriage (Hieros Gamos). This is a motif as universal as the existence of men and women, akin to the unions celebrated by Shiva and Shakti, Zeus and Hera, or Yin and Yang.

The Anima gives life to the images of the psyche, drawing them out from the unconscious, while the Animus bestows meaning upon them within consciousness and the outer world. Encountering the unconscious is the path toward individuation – a process of introspection (meditation) where inner images come alive, awaiting our attention and dialogue. Essentially, this is the process of self-reflection: looking inward and engaging in a conversation with the Self. The confrontation with the unconscious is an active act of meditation, rooted in the Latin meditatio (reflection), which possesses a profound healing effect. An alchemical dictionary written in the 17th century describes meditation as:

“The internal speech of one person with another who is invisible, as in the invocation of the Deity, or communion with one’s self, or with one’s good angel.”

Martin Rulandus the Elder, Lexicon Alchemiae, 1612)

The goal of individuation is to become more and more who we truly are – distinct from others, yet in relationship with them. This process consists of a series of dialogues, confrontations, and battles: between ourselves and the world, between the human beings to whom we are connected and bound, and between ourselves and the inner world of archetypes. An essential part of this process is for a man to become conscious of his Anima, and a woman of her Animus, so that each may differentiate themselves from these figures and cease to be dominated by them.

“One finds that there are thoughts, feelings, and affects in us which we would never have believed possible. Naturally, possibilities of this kind seem quite fantastical to anyone who has not experienced them personally, for the normal person ‘knows what he thinks.’ Such a childish attitude on the part of the ‘normal person’ is rather the rule, so that no one without experience in this field can be expected to understand the real nature of the Anima and Animus. With these reflections, one enters an entirely new world of psychological experience, provided, of course, that one succeeds in putting them into practice. Those who do can hardly fail to be impressed by all that the ego does not know and never has known. This expansion of self-knowledge is still a great rarity in our day and is usually paid for in advance by a neurosis, if not by something worse.”

C.G. Jung, Aion: Тhe Syzygy: Anima and Animus, Collected Works, Vol. 9, Part II

References:

Jung, C.G. – Collected Works, Vol. 9, Part II: Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self (The Syzygy: Anima and Animus)
Von Franz, Marie-Louise – The Feminine in Fairy Tales & Animus and Anima in Fairy Tales
https://eternalisedofficial.com/2022/01/21/anima-and-animus/

Tsvetina Petkova

Tsvetina Petkova is an analytical psychologist and a lawyer. Founder of Club Mangum Opus. Her practice and research focus on dream analysis, mythology, alchemy & hermetic science.

→ Sessions & Consultations

The psychic world reflects the same reality. Within our psyche operate autonomous forces that do not cease to exist simply because we are unaware of them – on the contrary, they activate with even greater intensity when we resist acknowledging them. The psyche follows specific laws; should we refuse to examine them, the collapse of its structure often follows. In such cases, the ‘human court’ of the ego can no longer withstand the unconscious contents within, and chaos takes the place of order.

Who Creates the Law and the Order?

The Latin maxim Ignorantia juris non excusat, which states that ‘Ignorance of the law excuses no one’, appears to hold a far deeper meaning if we step beyond the one-sided framework of positive law – which typically examines the letter, but not the spirit, of the law. Upon careful reading, we discover that it refers to an ignorance of Natural Law: an expression of those rational and cosmic principles that create order and structure within all living things in space. When we consciously choose to ignore them and remain ignorant, positive law begins to lose its center, its meaning, its inner measure, and its purpose to balance – that is, to be just. The form remains, but the life-giving principle withers.

When a person becomes self-absorbed, mesmerized by spinning around their own axis, they begin to draft and enforce laws (lex) that gradually detach from the principle of justice (ius) – which, in essence, means balance. Then, norms cease to serve order and humanity, serving instead personal desires, passions, and fears. It is as if we were to imagine that man created the Sun, and that it has begun to revolve around him, while he himself dictates exactly how and when it should rise and set, solely to serve human procedures.

Scientists discovered long ago that the Sun does not revolve around man, but man around the Sun. No matter how many laws we draft, we cannot alter this fact. Therefore, natural laws are heliocentric, not geocentric. In other words, all forms of law – natural, physical, biological, legal, and so forth – are subordinate to the Sun and its rhythm. However, when we fall out of sync with this universal rhythm, the global equilibrium appears undisturbed; the Sun continues to rise, regardless of whether we find the world’s occurrences to be just or not. In the same way, natural laws ‘rise’ every day before the written ones – and after the darkness.

The Principle of Ma’at and the Scales of Justice

Today, the Latin maxim Ius est ars boni et aequi (Law is the art of the good and the equitable) sounds like an archaic notion for the naive. In the distorted form of modern law, there is no trace of art. Unlike mere imitation, living art always contains the imago Dei. This is the difference between an imitation and an original work of art: the latter touches, transforms, spiritualizes, and humbles you. An imitation, no matter how skillful, never achieves this; it may entertain for a moment, but it leaves you just as hungry and thirsty as before. Our daily language reveals the same truth: art vs. artificial. When art is absent, only the artificial remains. Without the ‘art’ within the norms, we are left with a simulation. That is why drafting laws is, in its essence, an act of (normative) creation.

Roman law distinguishes between ius and lex. Lex is the written norm, while Ius is the principle of justice that gives it meaning. When lex detaches from ius, the law ceases to be ‘the art of the good and the equitable’ and transforms into a mere automated mechanism. Similarly, within the psyche, there is also a ius – an inner structure and a lex: our social roles, rules, and external expectations.

Law did not originate with the Greco-Roman civilization. If we look further back into history, we arrive in Ancient Egypt, where symbols held primary significance – symbols the Egyptians knew and employed consciously. It is there that we discover the Principle of Ma’at  and exactly what she measures on her scales. This is the bridge between Law and Psyche: Mind and Heart – Spirit and Soul – Thought and Emotion. The scales do not measure whether you lived modestly or morally, nor do they weigh who possessed more wealth or power; they measure with absolute precision whether you lived in falsehood or in Truth – in Wholeness and Equilibrium, or not. The widely known myth of Ma’at is a universal symbol, which means the scales are within us, here and now.

When the Inner Law is substituted, a person begins to live by ‘laws’ that are not their own, and the scales tip in favor of a heavy heart. Everyone feels, perceives, and experiences this tilting of the scales – especially when the discrepancy between the pans is vast. It is a fascinating fact that the word magistrate originates precisely from Ma’at.

Psychology of Law

We are accustomed to seeking causes externally – within institutions, legislators, and ‘the system’ – even though we are an essential part of that very system. Law is a social instrument designed to regulate human relations, yet upon closer examination, something more fundamental emerges: every legal system reflects a specific internal state of consciousness. Before it becomes a code, the law exists as a principle. Before justice is imposed from without, it is either experienced or violated from within.

The Psychology of Law, and Analytical Psychology in particular, explores the same dynamics: the autonomous forces (archetypal structures) at work within our psyche that bring either internal order, balance, and measure, or their opposite – destructive chaos. When we deny or repress them, a crisis ensues – first internally, and subsequently, externally. This is why an increasing number of scholars, lawyers, psychologists, and philosophers are beginning to examine the link between law as an external order and the psyche as an internal structure. The contemporary crisis in law is not merely a legal problem; it is a symptom of a crisis within the human psyche and consciousness, directing us toward the field of the unconscious.

For years, I have been communicating with legal colleagues and observing that the percentage of those suffering from anxiety, depression, and addiction is increasing exponentially. The fuller the pockets, the more impoverished the soul seems to become. At that point, neither social prestige, nor money, nor private jets, nor the comfort of a government position can compensate for the sense of emptiness and the loss of connection with oneself.

It is no surprise that over the last decade, an increasing number of legal professionals have been pivoting toward other vocations or alternative ways of working where they can rediscover meaning and feel purposeful. As law progressively loses touch with its soul, and the statutes with their spirit, society becomes increasingly cynical regarding the role of magistrates and lawyers. This creates a negative feedback loop: the deteriorating public perception of the legal profession deepens a sense of isolation that weighs heavily on the lives of many within the field.

The crisis of meaning within the legal profession demands a fundamental shift in how we perceive both the law and ourselves as practitioners, in whatever capacity we serve. While financial rewards and prestige remain powerful motivators for many, they rarely provide the deeper sense of purpose and fulfillment required to sustain a person in the long term. To confront the dissatisfaction and cognitive dissonance that have permeated the profession, we must look beyond superficial solutions and engage with the deeper, often unconscious forces that shape our experience as human beings and as legal experts.

This means not only cultivating our personal well-being but also examining the broader systems and structures within which we function. Until we dare to look at the unconscious motives, fears, compromises, and dependencies that drive us, we will continue to spin in the same vicious circle of personal and professional exhaustion – for the two are inextricably linked. The integration of psychology into law is not merely a necessity; it is an expression of the principle of indivisible wholeness. Jung’s depth psychology is a profound beginning.

(I recommend the article The Soulful Lawyer: Jungian Practices for Legal Professionals)

Archetypes in Law

Carl Jung viewed the legal system as a collective, archetypal structure designed to bring order to chaos; however, it often functions as a Persona that conceals a Shadow of dishonesty and injustice. Rigid and dogmatic adherence to laws increasingly serves as a cover for immoral actions, allowing individuals to bypass their personal conscience. From the perspective of analytical psychology, the key aspects are as follows:

The Archetype of Justice

The legal system is driven by the fundamental need for order and justice, often playing out the archetypal dynamics between good and evil. Brilliant examples can be found in films such as The Devil’s Advocate and The Silence of the Lambs. The archetypes of the Judge, the Accuser and the Accused, the Defender, and the Witness inhabit every psyche – on both a personal and collective level. If we look honestly within, we find them all present, though in some individuals, certain figures are more pronounced and active. They interact incessantly, yet the archetype of Justice is most closely linked to that of the Judge; for it is the Judge who upholds the framework of the law and weighs the scales after admitting and examining every perspective.

Shadow work (in Law)

The Shadow in law is the lust for power disguised as service in the name of justice, and it wears many faces. Among professionals, this manifests as an identification with the role: ‘I am the Law.’ When a position begins to feed the ego, victory becomes more important than truth, and procedure more vital than the human being. Rationality is misused to suppress the conscience, while the inner truth and measure are silenced in the interest of the client, even when such a defense contradicts internal principles. Today, this is conveniently labeled as ‘professionalism’ and ‘justice’.

In clients, the Shadow often manifests as a projection; thus, they frequently seek not justice, but justification, as they typically wish for someone else to bear the moral burden. They are often driven by a desire for the law to legitimize their pain, anger, or thirst for revenge, paying a defender to assume the weight of the conflict in their stead.

In institutions, the Shadow is the fear of the destructive chaos lurking at every turn. Consequently, the system prefers an illusion of order over the truth of the dependencies that created this ‘order’ in the first place. While predictability is vital for legal certainty, it simultaneously hardens against any attempt to confront moral complexity, personal responsibility, or movement away from stagnation. Thus, the law becomes rigid – a self-preserving mechanism. Most significantly, the individual is entirely disregarded.

The deepest shadow, however, lies in the split between the inner and the outer law. Internally, a person knows one truth, yet externally, they act out another. The longer one lives within this contradiction, the more they petrify, becoming increasingly cynical. Thus, the crisis is not merely institutional or professional. It is psychic and profoundly human.

The Persona: Unmasking the Legal Self 

The Persona, or social mask, represents a combination of how we wish to present ourselves to the world and how we want the world to perceive us. It serves the purpose of adaptation, yet adaptation is not always advisable when it concerns the Inner Law. The Persona defines our social identity and is formed in relation to the roles we occupy – lawyer, psychologist, attorney, judge, parent, and so forth. It is the face we wear to step into society and be accepted by it. The Persona fulfills a vital function as a bridge between ourselves and the world – it is the first impression. Thus, it is necessary, for it is through the Persona that we take our place in the world.

However, when the Persona hardens into an identity and we cling to it, it replaces the living human being. Law is a field where the Persona is exceptionally powerful. The attorney, the judge, the prosecutor – they all wear a face that must appear competent, rational, impartial, and ‘objective.’ This face commands trust. Tension arises when the role consumes our true self and our perception of who we are beyond it. For instance, when a judge continues to act as one outside the courtroom, within their family and friendships. Or the lawyer, accustomed to defending (saving) clients during a trial, who persists in doing so with everyone in their life. Or when you feel the need to be right at any cost, as if it were a battle of life and death. Who would you be if you didn’t have to fight, prove, protect, or suppress the truth all the time?

For legal professionals, the Persona is often tethered to proving oneself, over-responsibility, and hyper-control. Yet, when we strip away this mask, we frequently discover someone yearning for lightness, softness, and a connection with their own feelings, for it is exhausting to remain perpetually on standby for the battlefield. Someone who understands that their worth does not always need to be proven or explained – certainly not at any cost. However, the sense of worth does not stem from a social role.

When the ‘letter of the law’ becomes more important than the spirit of justice, and the protection of personal interest displaces the search for truth, the Persona of the law begins to conceal its Shadow. The Shadow in law is not merely ‘corruption’ or a ‘broken system.’ It is more subtle: the drive to prove one’s significance, to win at any cost, to rationalize a moral compromise because ‘that’s how the system works.’ It is the refusal to see one’s own participation in the substitution of reality. It is precisely here that the internal rift is born, for the human psyche does not seek professional efficiency alone – it seeks Wholeness and Inner Order.

Influence on the legal professionals

Most legal professionals experience a crisis of meaning due to an over-identification with the professional Persona they are forced to maintain within modern legal reality, alongside the simulation of legality. This necessitates Shadow work to restore internal balance. In its quest to be ‘objective,’ contemporary law excludes emotion, conscience, and intuition, and with them, any genuine interaction with real human beings. In their place remain rules, roles, and institutions that function mechanically, yet are devoid of living substance and meaning.

Legal education has largely excluded symbolic thinking, emphasizing the purely rational, while simultaneously discarding the moral law that underpins the principle of justice and the inner measure. Thus, students initially enthusiastic, quickly realize that justice is no longer the central pillar of legal practice. By the time they graduate, a large percentage of them choose not to practice law at all.

Regrettably, future legal professionals soon realize that ‘successful’ adaptation to a system – one demanding loyalty to collectively imposed rules, interests, and increasingly questionable ‘values’, requires them, like the rest, to don a blindfold to remain ‘impartial.’ Consequently, positive law becomes an expression of the collective shadow within an environment where individuals gradually lose their clear vision and the will to discover their own Inner Law.

Recently, a lawyer I know spontaneously shared that he is exhausted from bearing responsibility for others. From personal experience, I know this exhaustion stems not from the battle itself, but from a pervasive sense of meaninglessness – the substitution of the living law with artificial procedures and rules created primarily to serve political and economic interests. Increasingly, legal practitioners fear taking a clear stand, terrified of losing their positions or missing out on the next big client. Yet, this deprives both the individual and the professional of their dignity. When we add the fact that the modern lawyer is often forced to double as a therapist, the picture becomes even more complex.

En masse, laws are drafted by individuals devoid of inner measure, driven by a collective drive for power. Consequently, practicing this profession has become increasingly difficult, even for those who possess the necessary qualities. The true purpose of the law – to protect people from encroachment, to establish order, and to instill a sense of security and justice has become a chimera. The paradox is that many of the legal professionals I know, who possess the requisite qualities, no longer practice; meanwhile, others continue to exercise the profession despite lacking a legal psyche – as Prof. Zhivko Stalev aptly called it.

Even second-year students already know that today there is no real intersection between the law and justice. In most universities, this isn’t even discussed, as if the disintegration within the legal world – which is, of course, pervasive and interconnected, did not exist. When we reach a point where people begin to fear and doubt (not without reason) the drafting and application of the law, the Scales tip alarmingly. In such conditions, it is precisely self-knowledge that can help us restore internal equilibrium and steer us in the opposite direction – toward integration and wholeness.

Psychological types | Carl Jung

The theory ofpsychological types and innate psychological attitudes, explored in depth by Jung, finds significant application within the legal context. Professionals in the field can gain profound insights into themselves and their clients during conflict resolution, business negotiations, and litigation. Since most legal practitioners possess a dominant extraverted attitude with a leading thinking function and a clear orientation toward judgment and structure, working with psychological types reveals their less developed introverted side and, for example, their feeling function. It is precisely these aspects that often remain in the shadow – unrecognized and even undervalued. Therefore, working with psychological types is a way for an individual to expand their internal horizon beyond the confines of their professional role.

To activate the imagination and reduce over-identification with the rational mind, analytical work employs images, archetypal cards, numerical symbolism, dream analysis, and the tracing of recurring life patterns. These approaches awaken the creative potential of the unconscious, which in many legal professionals remains hidden behind a formidable professional Persona. Therefore, while Themis may wear a blindfold today, it does not mean that those practicing law must wear one as well.

Themis Unblindfolded 

Some time ago, I found myself questioning why Themis wears a blindfold at all? While today it is claimed as a symbol of impartiality, it seems far more realistic to interpret it as a refusal to see clearly what is unfolding before our very eyes – especially given the blatant biases within the legal world. A historical review of the mythology reveals that Themis has been linked to Ma’at since antiquity and was originally depicted without a blindfold. She had no need for one, as she possessed the power to see into both the future and the past; nor did she require a sword, for as a goddess, she embodied Divine Order itself.

During the Roman era, she was named Justitia and began to be depicted with a sword and a blindfold. This raises the question: why today, in the practice of law, does almost no one speak of Divine Order and Justice, even though the entire history of law points precisely to that? Is it possible that the blindfold, added only a few centuries ago, symbolizes not impartiality, but a voluntary blindness? To this day, Themis/Justitia is not universally blindfolded – an example being the Illinois Supreme Court.When we move through trials and difficult times, it is preferable, however painful, to remain with eyes wide open to what is unfolding (both within and without). It is dangerous to be simultaneously unseeing and armed with a sword.

The birth of the Inner Law

Marie-Louise von Franz notes that, unlike legal systems, the psyche does not function through unambiguous and non-contradictory rules. On the contrary, it is rife with contradictions, paradoxes, and tensions that cannot be resolved by mechanically following the ‘collective law.’ In fairy tales, as in life, the individual – the hero is faced with situations where there is no ready-made formula or well-trodden path to take. There, the hero does not follow the collective; for had they done so, they would never have found their own path or the internal strength to reach the princess’s palace and defeat the dragon. The hero’s journey precludes blind obedience; instead, it develops the power of clear consciousness.

It is precisely these contradictions that demand individuals develop their own internal morality, freedom of thought, and the responsibility to make independent, conscious decisions. The only ‘rule’ that remains unchanged and resilient is the instinctive wisdom that knows more than the social mask – a trusted ally to the human being. Embarking on the path of individuation is not an escape from the written law or the collective, but a unification of the inner and outer worlds. The birth of the Inner Law does not abolish the form – it restores its spirit, thereby filling it with substance. When this occurs, one takes the risk of becoming whole, even if it places them in conflict with the collective and results in the loss of illusions. This is why both Jung and Marie-Louise von Franz emphasized unequivocally the same thing: not to become a ‘Jungian,’ but to discover your own personal myth.

To know oneself is to connect with the depths of one’s own soul. At that point, therapy and laws may serve as valuable landmarks, but they can never be the ultimate goal, nor can they give birth to the Inner Law. You are the only one who can do that – to discover your own path, which, though steep, leads to vast expanses and extraordinary adventures. And you will know, beyond a doubt, that they are yours.

And then, as you stand before Ma’at and her Scales, your soul will know the Truth.

Tsvetina Petkova

Tsvetina Petkova is an analytical psychologist and a lawyer. Founder of Club Mangum Opus. Her practice and research focus on dream analysis, mythology, alchemy & hermetic science.

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