Following the Man on Fire
Posted on | January 26, 2010 | 4 Comments
I have delayed posting this as I tracked down the “perfect” image to illustrate it. I’m not finding it, which may be a clue that I need to create it, or that finding that image is not the point.
Last week, I had a dream. Actually, I usually dream, but every once in a while the dream image is very clear, clear enough to remember, clear enough to stick with me. This is one such dream.
I am walking through a marketplace that looks much like a medieval fair, but dirtier. People all around me are sick and dying. I am slowly walking and watching them. My heart goes out to them as they shuffle in the shadows of alleys and doorways. Occasionally, one will cross my path and make me stop in my tracks. There is a moment of awkwardness before the other shuffles off, and I continue.
At the center of the marketplace, I find my teacher elder, a wizened old woman with a round face and eyes. She is tiny, wrapped in cloth to stay warm by a small fire. She may be old, but she is not one of the sick. She is timeless. I sit across from her, and we talk.
A man about my age comes and sits around the fire between us. He is wearing a roughly woven, brown robe, much like a monk’s. He has dark brown, curling hair and a kind, yet compelling eyes. I feel a flash of connection when our eyes meet. We don’t speak much to each other, but both listen to the elder. A spark from the fire flies out and lands on his sleeve. A small fire spreads over his arm and hand, but doesn’t seem to burn him. He reaches over and taps out or covers the fire with his other hand. He gives me an embarrassed look, as if I have seen something that he usually tries to hide. He is surprised that I have seen it.
Unhurriedly, he rises to leave and walks away. I follow him. I know in that moment that I will always follow him, no matter at what cost–to my life or my reputation. And I know that it will be OK.
Early in December I made the intent to begin a conscious relationship with my animus. I believe this dream is saying that I am on the right track, but that I will have to take risks. My life is pretty “safe” right now, but sometimes I feel that I am on a knife’s edge, that I want to play with fire.
Yet, I am afraid. Afraid of losing control of my mind. Afraid of losing the respect of others, of losing my good name. Afraid that my work (especially my artwork) will make people seriously question my sanity or good spirit. So, I am usually “good” or “pleasing” and sometimes “inspiring,” or so I’ve been told.
But I think that may be changing, which I’ll talk about in my next post.
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January 26th, 2010 @ 11:46 am
I’ve learned when you act on your dreams the world seems to change. I’ll be curious to see where this takes you and the people around you.
Just remember that it is not you. You are the one in control, and you should not give it too much power. Work with it, don’t let it consume you.
Playing with fire can be fun. Being burnt can be a learning lesson. Being fried to a crisp is just a painful way to go.
January 26th, 2010 @ 8:26 pm
I had to snort when I read the bit about embarking on having a conscious relationship with your animus, because reading your dream that’s exactly what I was thinking. The spiritual man who is on fire is a dead giveaway, really.
I am always, always, plugging this book, I swear, but have you read In Search of Women’s Passionate Soul: Revealing the Daimon Lover Within by Caitlin Matthews? It’s all about the daimon, which is basically the animus but more from a spiritual view (and a very Pagan-friendly one, too, as it’s Caitlín Matthews), less of a purely psychological one. I really cannot recommend this book highly enough. It’s out of print, but I’ve never had any problem finding used copies on say amazon.com.
As for your fears, while I certainly recognize and acknowledge them as valid and real, I suspect they will prove to be just that in the end, fears.
Cause, really–am I respected? Do I have a good name? Granted, realistically I know I’m only mildly famous within this little Pagan subculture, but you have heard of me and my work, right? When you have looked at my artwork, did you question my sanity and good spirit? No? What about this piece?
And yet I have a very vibrant, very present relationship with my own daimon. I mean I hear you, very much so, about worrying that other people will think you’re nuts. But it is something you have the right to keep private, if you choose. And I’ve found that if no one knows, they’ll never in a million years be able to tell, certainly not from one’s artwork or writings. A very few might suspect something, but those are the ones who already know themselves, and they’re hardly in a position to judge, even if they were inclined to.
January 27th, 2010 @ 9:22 am
Talia,
I remember when you posted that image and how personal it was for you. I was grateful that you did so. It is a beautiful work.
Thank you for the book recommendation and for the words of support and encouragement.
January 27th, 2010 @ 9:22 am
@Ketzirah, I am interested to see where I will go, too.