Love In A Plain Brown Envelope: The Animus Ritual

This essay is fifth in a series, based on the suggested writing assignments and exercises in Antero Alli’s The Eight-Circuit Brain. Each essay delves into a specific circuit. This one falls under Circuit Seven, which is tied to Saturn, Binah, the supernal mother and the unconscious mind.

My definitions of the eight circuits change, as I continue my ongoing experiments. Currently, I label them as (C1), Survival Of The Fittest, (C2), Emo Power, (C3), Logos, (C4), Community, (C5), Pleasure Dome, (C6), Psychic Intuition, (C7), Synchronicity and (C8), Morpheus.

The circuits run in pairs: C1/C5, C2/C6, C3/ C7 and C4/C8. Some of my essays handle them individually, while others combine them. This one digs into the C7 unconscious projection of The Dream Lover onto our partners—the Anima/Animus urge to control.

I’ve never had much luck with the concept of a twin flame or soul mate beyond my teen years, save for maybe once (and that didn’t go very far). My stance of such idealization typically results in an eye roll. However, I’ve always been curious about Carl Jung’s concept of the idealized partner: Anima for men and Animus for women (sorry, folks, but I didn’t create this binary system. You’re free to modify the terminology so it better suits your sexuality trip).

I never ventured too deep into Jung’s Anima/Animus urge—I just sort of mashed it with alchemy and didn’t revisit the subject. In my youth, I often felt a deep melancholy for a magical partner that could double as a lover. But, it never happened, not even when I dated alleged magicians and occultists, so I gave up on the notion.

The closest I ever came to any literal sex magic—that wasn’t purely symbolic and non-sexual—turned out to be a total disaster. I slept with one of my initiators, only to realize he was a sexual predator, abusing power differentials and manipulating young women (like myself ) across the country. Even though I learned something, I would’ve been better off without the trauma.

To experiment with the seventh-circuit realm of synchronicity, spirits and the unconscious mind, The Eight-Circuit Brain suggests performing an Animus ritual in my case, since I prefer a male partner. As I read the outline for Alli’s ritual, I learned that I had erroneously assumed the Anima/Animus dichotomy was the same dualistic archetypes as female/ male, within myself. Alli states, "the Anima and Animus express completely autonomous forces not subject to our own propriety; we do not own them." I wanted to see how true that was, so I geared up for the ceremony.

I covered a table with a red cloth. I set a collage—framed in red paint—of black-and- white images of Lucifer, Orpheus and Eros. Red equals sex. Black equals death. White equals come. Welcome to Jaime’s Morbid Tantric Alchemy 101.

The ritual called for a mélange of items, that represent unconscious desires projected onto a mate. I adorned the altar with a small sequencer, because I love music and the creation of it. The Knight Of Wands tarot card, because I prefer emotionally mature men. Dried calendula marigold flowers in a white bowl, for solar power. A figurine of Shiva. A phallic quartz. A sanded twig. A copper disk I engraved with signals that represent spirit descending to earth, which a magical partnership should focus on. A banana, for its shape (and so I can eat the energy later, which I did). A piece of amethyst, for its connection to Saint Valentine. And, the Taschen book Alchemy & Mysticism. I also offered dragon’s blood incense and lit a candle in the cardinal points when I called the Animus.

I started by taking a salt bath, infused with calendula, rue and wormwood. After that, I popped in Download’s Sidewinder CD. Then, I meditated in savasana or the death posture. The music amplified my meditation. I felt and heard an astral wind roar and envelop me, as I sank deeper into an altered state. I lay in the death posture and repressed memories— of when I shot heroin at age 15 in Indianapolis—bubbled. I relived moments with K.R., an artist who was much older than me, maybe a decade or more. We had an affair that didn’t end well. I remembered how I originally hung out with him, because I wanted to learn how to combine metal and bone in sculpture. I didn’t intend to sleep with him, but it happened. Tears soaked my cheeks, as I traveled back in time. I saw C.O.—who was 21 when I was 13—and swirled through the good and bad memories there. Then, I fast-forwarded to an ex I didn’t treat well, who was two years younger than me and deserved more than what I offered. I scrolled through the past relationships at hyper speed. Not all of them were unsavory—especially not the last one. I saw his face and got stuck in a loop of him turning away from me and falling back into me. Which is kind of weird, because that’s what happened later, with the Animus.

I did the C1 body work portion of the ritual, meant for grounding in the beginning of the C2 Emotional Polarity Ritual, which is inserted in the Animus Ritual. I did a round of yoga and Pilates, to stretch my spine, raise heat and sweat. Sweat is proof of energy to any chaos magician. Then, I projected opposing emotion before me and behind me. I stood in what Alli calls "no-form," a kind of quasi-Qigong stance, whereby you silence your mind and dissociate from your body. I threw resentment behind me and cast love in front of me. I should mention, I’ve done this emotional polarity ritual numerous times—it’s always visual and psychedelic for me. I stepped back into resentment and my feet anchored in puddles of tar. I entered bat country. Bats were everywhere, flapping, flying and out of control. A wicked vine curled and descended across my scope of sight, reaching down beyond my lens. I thought of various resentments from relationships, like words not followed through with action, someone being emotionally unavailable at a time of need or someone just doing something shitty, like not taking you seriously when you’re physically injured. I centered back to no-form. I leaped into love. A soft flame that didn’t burn, flickered. A woven matrix connected two tilted eyes that linked at the pupils and formed a single eye at the bottom of a heart. Two seahorses kissed, pulled back, then coiled their tails and floated in union as a heart. I tasted seaweed and sea foam lapped at my ankles. I returned to no-form.

I turned my back to the altar. I called on the Animus and invited him inside of me. The melodious—yet, chaotic—music enhanced this and I felt a tingling sensation roll from the top of my head, down my spine, to my tailbone. A DNA double helix spiraled in my mind’s eye. Heat moved through my torso. I felt a presence turn around inside of me and fall back into me. I let him ruminate, before I extracted myself from him. I turned around, faced the altar and invited the Animus to enjoy its shrine.

This is where it gets really weird and uncomfortable for me. I executed the Q&A portion—which felt ridiculous—but, I was in a trance state reminiscent of an LSD trip. So, I went with it, staring at Lucifer’s image the whole time.

Q: Why am I obsessed with eras of the past?

A: Because you’re not happy with the present.

Q: How do I find fulfillment in my intimate relationships?

A: You have to know yourself better than you do.

Q: How do I know this is you saying this and not me?

A: Because I’m going to tell you the truth.

Q: And what is the truth?

A: The truth is, that you’re unaware of your own desires and your own needs. You’re torn between wanting a normal life in the physical world and wanting a spiritual life in another world. Your magical practice leaves you unfulfilled in this world, because it is lonely by nature. And you are alone.

Q: Will you be my magical partner?

A: Yes.

Q: Is it not possible for two people to have that in a relationship?

A: It’s possible, but, it’s just not likely. Come find me when you seek more, because you’re not going to find it fully in a human, anyway. Besides, you call me when you don’t even know it.

I’ve got other hyper-personal questions about heart matters that I don’t want to share here. I’ll just say, the response I got made sense and made me think more about where I’m at, emotionally.

I said my goodbyes and sent the Animus on his way, back to the ether. I centered in no-form, banished the space, blew out the candle, ate the banana and tried to come down from the bizarre, natural trip.

This ritual forced me to face my own weaknesses and expectations. It brought me to terms with a past I’ve denied. Whether the conversation occurred between conscious and unconscious parts of myself didn’t matter. I entered an altered state—sans drugs—and brought back some homework to contemplate. I’d call that a success. And, I didn’t need a magical partner to get there. Or, did I?