Within our psyche exist both an outer and an inner world. Carl Jung revived the concept of the Persona (the social mask we wear in society), which stands between the Ego and society, embodying our conscious life and the external world. However, the inner world – the Unconscious is where the true adventure begins. Here, we encounter the Shadow, Anima, Animus, and the Self (the wholeness of personality). Like every archetype (and indeed, everything that exists), they possess both light and dark aspects – low and high manifestations.

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.

The Negative Animus: The Shadow of Saturn (Case Study)

If we examine the legend of the Greek god Cronus and his later Roman manifestation as Saturn, we can discover a direct link to the negative archetypal expression of the Animus in a woman with a similar father complex. Let us consider the case of a 37-year-old female lawyer who came to me, exhausted from fighting everyone else’s battles. Most of all, she was weary of the fact that even today, her father calls her twice a day, while she has been trying for years to break free from his suffocating control.

She felt torn between gratitude for his financial support while she realized important projects over the years, yet after the age of 35, she began to recognize that his power was most potently expressed through money. He did not merely provide a high standard of living; he transformed his financial power into an instrument of emotional blackmail, constantly reminding everyone around him that he was their sole benefactor.

She continued by sharing how she grew up in an environment where her mother lived in a state of total submission to the father figure. He personified the classic Saturnian authority: high social status, financial power, and a system of rigid rules. On the other hand, the mother occupied the archetypal role of the “sacrificial saint” or Cinderella – a passivity that only served to fuel the man’s tyrannical will.

The mother possessed a rich imagination but appeared uninitiated and neglected in her physical appearance. She felt powerless to openly oppose her husband, while he, from infancy, began to obsessively possess their daughter. The father acted disrespectfully toward the mother, systematically devaluing her, while simultaneously placing the daughter on a pedestal. Since the moment of her birth, he firmly believed he was her only “true creator.” She was his project, his “everything,” for whom he did everything – at the cost of her own identity. This dynamic fueled a relationship of competition and envy between mother and daughter. The mother felt no warmth toward her child; on the contrary, she exhibited passive aggression, using criticism as a tool for even the smallest matters.

From a young age, the daughter sensed that her mother lacked maternal instinct, as the mother herself was entirely consumed by her own role as a victim. When the parents divorced (the daughter was 14), and the mother remarried only a year later to the complete opposite of her first husband, the girl felt no sense of loss. She saw no difference between the presence and absence of a figure who had never truly been a source of support. The mother mirror was missing.

The mother’s second husband emerges as the total antithesis of Cronus: kind, polite, and socially adjusted; he knows how to cook, clean, and build, but most of all – he never contradicts. In this new configuration, the roles are reversed: the former “servant” finally takes the place of the one who sets the rules. She symbolically “bequeaths” her daughter to her first husband and definitively withdraws from her life.

However, this pattern of submission did not begin with her first marriage. The mother had been trained for the role of a servant in her own family of origin, where she was subordinated to her own mother – a figure of a tyrannical, verbally and physically aggressive woman. Her father (the grandfather), on the other hand, was the “eternally smiling” martyr-saint, who submissively endured the beatings of his wife. Here we find the root of the distorted Animus: when the father principle is reduced to silent suffering, it leaves a vacuum that is inevitably filled by destructive female control.

This is the shadow manifestation of the feminine devouring, hidden within “passivity” or “sacred convictions.” The daughter, being a jurist, “translates” the maternal devouring into the language of the father’s law. She becomes a guardian of the structure. Here, the feminine devouring manifests as perfectionism – the drive for everything to be “faultless,” in order to avoid being “punished” or “excommunicated” from the invisible kingdom.

These archetypes rotate like interlocking gears. The mother transmits to the daughter the struggle of being a “woman” (because the feminine is equated either with being a servant or with being devouring and tyrannical), while the father bequeaths to the daughter an Animus that manifests as the “heavy, leaden law.” This why Carl Jung writes:

“The greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of its parents”

C.G. Jung, “The Development of Personality”, Collected Works Vol. 17)

The Ancestral Shadow as a Potential for Gold

At the center of this ancestral cosmos stands the grandmother – the Devouring Mother – the “absolute law” to which everything was subjected, and whose word dictated fates: who, where, and how one should exist. Any dissent from her “law” was punished with humiliation and physical assault, yet paradoxically – no one dared to leave her domain. A collective numbness reigned in this home, a belief that nothing was more terrifying than being cast out of her “paradise.”

Family members were enchanted by the illusion that she knew best “what was good for everyone” and that her tyranny was, in fact, a “sacrifice for the sake of the family.” Thus, the chain is forged: the crushed Animus of the grandfather leaves a vacuum for the grandmother’s tyranny, who in turn raises a daughter (the mother) capable of being only a servant or a despot – until finally, Cronus (the father) appears to annex the next generation.

As the 37-year-old lawyer began to unravel these ancestral threads in our therapeutic sessions, she made her most crucial discovery: her Cronus-father was not an accidental figure. He had been “summoned” by the ancestral system to fill the vacuum created by the lack of healthy masculine authority. She, while being placed on a pedestal, was in fact a hostage to his fear of losing control.

The personal Shadow is the gateway to one’s gold. In the myth of Cronus, he devours his children; in this case, the father “feeds” his daughter with money to keep her in his stomach – under absolute control. This constant emphasizing of financial support is his way of saying: “You exist only because I pay for it.” By declaring himself the “sole creator,” he commits archetypal violence against the feminine. He steals the role of Nature itself. This is the moment when the Animus becomes obsessive – it does not structure life; it annexes it.

By recognizing the “enchanted dance” of her ancestors, the daughter stops fighting “everyone else’s battles.” She understands that her intellectual armor – her legal precision was forged to protect her from the grandmother’s devouring and the father’s obsession. Her Animus is no longer an “inner tyrant” but the Golden Logos. She begins to use the strength, discipline, and will she acquired from her father not to serve him, but to build her own sovereignty.

Thus, the lawyer steps out of her father’s “stomach” and stops being the “child of Cronus,” transforming instead into the Architect of her own Truth. Instead of “sacrificing her life” (like her grandmother) or “being a servant” (like her mother), she chooses to be the Subject. In this moment, the negative Cronus is dethroned. All that remains is the Higher Saturn – the ability to set clear boundaries and to own one’s own time. This is the path from the lead of ancestral duty to the gold of personal freedom. This is the Supreme Grace.

In this ancestral dance, we observe an invisible yet ironclad symbiosis. On the mother’s side, we find the crippled (devoured) Animus – the grandfather-martyr, whose passivity birthed a deep contempt for weak men within his wife (the grandmother) and daughter (the mother). This contempt, however, is but a mask for an unbearable fear. The grandmother was tyrannical likely because her own father was the same cruel Cronus – and she adopted his whip to avoid becoming his victim once again. Thus, a paradox is transmitted through the female line: women despise weak men, yet subconsciously they choose either them (to dominate them) or tyrants (to be “saved” by them).

This shadow inevitably lives within the lawyer-daughter as well. On one hand, she carries the legacy of Cronus (her father) – his obsessive will and financial control. On the other, she bears her mother’s contempt for weakness. Where, then, lies the daughter’s strength? Her task is not to “denigrate” or blame her ancestors, but to recognize these two extremes within herself. Her Animus was forged in this furnace – she took the structure and discipline from Cronus and the endurance from the lineage of the “martyrs.”

The transmutation occurs when she stops using these forces for defense (fighting others’ battles and proving herself to her father and the outside world) and begins to use them for her personal autonomy. When she recognizes that the “tyrant” and the “martyr” are two faces of the same absence of personal sovereignty, she finally “exits” the symbiosis. Her Animus is transformed into the Golden Logos – the power to build one’s own law, which rests not on the submission of others, but on one’s personal Truth. Knowledge of these threads is not a sentence, but a map to her greatest wealth: Free Will.

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 legal 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

Sources of reference:

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

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