The first layer of the unconscious, the shadow, is also called by Jung the personal unconscious, as distinguished from the collective unconscious. The personal unconscious or shadow contains personal contents belonging to the individual himself which can and properly should be made conscious and integrated into the conscious personality or ego. The collective unconscious, on the other hand, is composed of transpersonal, universal contents which cannot be assimilated by the ego. Between these two layers of the unconscious, the personal and the collective, is another entity with, so to speak, one foot on each side. This is the anima in a man and the animus in a woman.

Edinger, An Outline of Analytical Psychology

This is how Edward Edinger introduces the anima. She is an autonomous mediator between the ego and the collective unconscious through the personal unconscious (i.e., the shadow).

This definition emphasizes the importance of dealing first with the shadow, otherwise contents of the personal unconscious will be meshed with the transpersonal content. In simpler words, it is not wise to engage with the second layer of the unconscious without having experienced the first one extensively.

In this respect, I will assume that the reader has a good understanding of the shadow. I have an article on shadow work where I have detailed what I know about the topic.

Because the shadow is part of the development of the ego (meaning it is what the ego has not consciously realized about itself), the shadow is technically defined as being of the same gender as the individual, though in practice it’s not always the case. In a similar fashion, the opposite gender of the individual will be the anima or the animus. Edinger writes:

The anima is an autonomous psychic content in the male personality which can be described as an inner woman. She is the psychic representation of the contrasexual elements in man and is depicted in symbolic imagery by figures of women ranging from harlot and seductress to divine wisdom and spiritual guide. She is the personification of the feminine principle in man, the principle of Eros, pertaining to love and relatedness.

Edinger, An Outline of Analytical Psychology

It’s important to emphasize the symbolism of gender to understand the anima/us. The traditional understanding of symbolism is that masculine symbolism is active whereas feminine symbolism is passive, in the sense of being receptive or nurturing.

Psychologically, Jung defined a masculine principle, Logos, and a feminine principle, Eros:

• Logos is defined as the principle of structure, consciousness, and rationality. The symbolism of Logos is a sword as it cuts, separates and distinguishes (well or poorly) between opposites.
• Eros is the principle of love, relationship, or relatedness. It unites things like a glue, which can mend things together or make them indistinguishable by blending them inappropriately. Traditionally, Eros is symbolized as a fountain.

Therefore, the animus is a representation (usually a personification) of Logos for a woman, and the anima is a representation of Eros for a man.

For more explanations on these terms, I suggest consulting the lexicon and read entries such as anima, animus, Eros, Logos, personal unconscious, collective unconscious.

The Ace of Swords and the Ace of Cups as a symbolism of Logos and Eros respectively (Tarot de Marseille by Jodorowsky)

Now that we know that the anima is the personification of Eros, the function of relationship, we have to try to understand Eros.

In Mysterium Coniunctionis, Jung goes extensively through the alchemical symbolism of salt. He concludes:

Apart from its lunar wetness and its terrestrial nature, the most outstanding properties of salt are bitterness and wisdom. As in the double quaternio of the elements and qualities, earth and water have coldness in common, so bitterness and wisdom would form a pair of opposites with a third thing between. The factor common to both, however incommensurable the two ideas may seem, is, psychologically, the function of feeling. Tears, sorrow, and disappointment are bitter, but wisdom is the comforter in all psychic suffering. Indeed, bitterness and wisdom form a pair of alternatives: where there is bitterness wisdom is lacking, and where wisdom is there can be no bitterness. Salt, as the carrier of this fateful alternative, is co-ordinated with the nature of woman.

Carl Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis (CW14), par 330

and later:

Confirmation of our interpretation of salt as Eros (i.e., as a feeling relationship) is found in the fact that the bitterness is the origin of the colours (par. 245). We have only to look at the drawings and paintings of patients who supplement their analysis by active imagination to see that colours are feeling-values. Mostly, to begin with, only a pencil or pen is used to make rapid sketches of dreams, sudden ideas, and fantasies. But from a certain moment on the patients begin to make use of colour, and this is generally the moment when merely intellectual interest gives way to emotional participation.

Carl Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis (CW14), par 333

In summary, the symbolism of salt is made of the two opposites that are bitterness and wisdom. Psychologically, the feeling function is the adequate factor that explains the presence of both. This allows Jung to explicitly equate salt with “a feeling relationship” thus Eros.

We can now understand that Eros is best understood through the feeling function. The anima will then personify the stage of development of a man’s Eros, which is similar to the development of his feeling function.

Let me make clear that equating the anima, Eros, and the feeling function is a useful simplification but not fundamentally correct. These three concepts cannot be reduced to one another and yet they share a common element which is relatedness. Thus when we explore “the principle of relationship”, we see how they are interconnected but it does not mean that the anima can be simplified to the feeling function.

Jung outlines four stages of development of Eros.

The most vivid examples of these complications are probably to be found in erotic phenomenology. Four stages of eroticism were known in the late classical period: Hawwah (Eve), Helen (of Troy), the Virgin Mary, and Sophia. The series is repeated in Goethe’s Faust: in the figures of Gretchen as the personification of a purely instinctual relationship (Eve); Helen as an anima figure; Mary as the personification of the “heavenly,” i.e., Christian or religious, relationship; and the “eternal feminine” as an expression of the alchemical Sapientia. As the nomenclature shows, we are dealing with the heterosexual Eros or anima-figure in four stages, and consequently with four stages of the Eros cult. The first stage—Hawwah, Eve, earth—is purely biological; woman is equated with the mother and only represents something to be fertilized. The second stage is still dominated by the sexual Eros, but on an aesthetic and romantic level where woman has already acquired some value as an individual. The third stage raises Eros to the heights of religious devotion and thus spiritualizes him: Hawwah has been replaced by spiritual motherhood. Finally, the fourth stage illustrates something which unexpectedly goes beyond the almost unsurpassable third stage: Sapientia. How can wisdom transcend the most holy and the most pure?—Presumably only by virtue of the truth that the less sometimes means the more. This stage represents a spiritualization of Helen and consequently of Eros as such. That is why Sapientia was regarded as a parallel to the Shulamite in the Song of Songs.

Carl Jung, The Psychology of the Transference (CW16), par 361

In the first stage, Eros is elemental desirousness and seeks biological fertility. In the second stage, the male principle has acquired some autonomy and values romantic and aesthetic factors. The third stage of Eros is spiritual fertility and the fourth stage is the spiritualization of Eros, with the psychological union of opposites as a goal.

By differentiating these stages, we learn that Eros is not a static thing but can develop or be developed. Another way to say the same thing is that one can assess a man’s Eros is by tracking his anima projections, the female figures with who he is captivated by.

The importance of developing Eros is essential for a man. The belief that life (or women for that manner) is a problem to be solved, outsmarted, or figured out is an incorrect but all too common attitude characterized by an excess of Logos and a lack of Eros.

Looking at mythology, the theme of the Riddle shows what happens when the masculine (a symbol for the ego) encounters the feminine (a symbol for the unconscious). In the classical case of Oedipus and the Sphinx, the Riddle is a life-or-death situation. Oedipus manages to solve the riddle by an act of Logos and provides the right answer. This apparent victory is in fact a total defeat that will lead him to a terrible fate.

Jung explains it the following way:

[T]hose tragic consequences which could easily have been avoided if only Oedipus had been sufficiently intimidated by the frightening appearance of the ‘terrible’ or ‘devouring’ Mother whom the Sphinx personified.

It is evident that a factor of such magnitude cannot be disposed of by solving a childish riddle. The riddle was, in fact, the trap which the Sphinx laid for the unwary wanderer. Overestimating his intellect in a typically masculine way, Oedipus walked right into it, and all unknowingly committed the crime of incest. The riddle of the Sphinx was herself the terrible mother-imago, which Oedipus would not take as a warning.

Carl Jung, Symbols of Transformation, par 264-265

The Riddle of the Sphinx is not about answering the Riddle but recognizing the Sphinx as The Great Mother in her dark and devouring aspect. Properly understood, the Riddle is the trap laid out by the devouring Mother for Oedipus and any unsuspecting man who overvalue and identify with their intellect, their Logos.

After answering the Riddle, Oedipus ends up committing both incest and parricide. This is the symbolic fate of an ego who has overdeveloped his Logos and unilaterally relied on its rationality at the price of developing other qualities.

While discussing Psalm 51, Edward Edinger writes:

Let me slip in here one psychological meaning that is immediately apparent from this story. It may seem a little too abstract, but I’m going to slip it in as part of the interpretations. In terms of the story as a psychological drama, if David is the ego, then Bathsheba—the anima—is married to the shadow—Uriah—who’s in a subordinate position of being a soldier. The ego wants the gratification of union with the anima but goes about that desire illegitimately, because one cannot relate to the anima or animus by attempting to bypass the shadow.

This is a basic psychological theme—it’s almost routine in the garden variety of positive anima or animus projections—but it’s not legitimate. What we call falling in love is a positive anima or animus projection. In the grips of it, one is possessed by a kind of blissful, paradisiacal illusion of an ideal state of harmony. But that illusion is bought at the price of murdering—repressing—the shadow. Sooner or later it makes its way back up, the illusion is shattered, and consequences unfold. That is one way of interpreting the David and Bathsheba story.

Edward Edinger, The Sacred Psyche, p. 79

This observation reminds us of what has been pointed out at the beginning of the article: the anima interacts with the ego through the shadow. Thus, one needs to have a good relation to the shadow to avoid colliding with the anima.

In my own practice, I’ve found that the anima is indeed siding with the shadow and not with the ego who wants to bypass the shadow. In a positive interaction with the anima, she led me to visit the shadow (full story here). In negative interactions, she would usually respond with a “shadowy” attitude and lay out all my shortcomings. This would shatter any sense of inflated self-importance and I would be left completely defeated after our interaction.

In Aurora Consurgens, Marie-Louise von Franz elaborates on an alchemical treaty where Wisdom expresses herself. Here, Wisdom is to be understood as “a feminine personification of the collective unconscious” (Aurora Consurgens, p. 156) or as “a feminine pneuma who enkindles and inspires the author at his work. She is a “spirit of truth,” bringing him enlightenment. Thus the anima appears here not as a personal content but in her transpersonal collective significance as a feminine complement of the God-image itself.” (Ibid., p. 159)

In this text, Wisdom calls to be rescued by man. Quoting von Franz, “In patristic literature [Wisdom] was, as we have mentioned, defined as the “archetypal world” (mundus archetypus) or as the sum of eternal ideas in the mind of God, the prototypes from which he created all things. She may also be compared with the Indian Shakti or Maya and with the Gnostic Sophia. And yet in our text this figure is equated with the soul of the dark earth, the impure prima materia. Alchemy, accordingly, lays upon man the task, and confers upon him the dignity, of rescuing the hidden, feminine aspect of God from imprisonment in matter by his opus, and of reuniting her with the manifest, masculine deity.” (Ibid., p. 258)

To achieve such a task, she asks to be saved but not defiled:

For this cause have I laboured night by night with crying, my jaws are become hoarse; who is the man that liveth, knowing and understanding, delivering my soul from the hand of hell? They that explain me shall have (eternal) life, and to him I will give to eat of the tree of life which is in paradise, and to sit with me on the throne of my kingdom. He that shall dig for me as money and obtain me as a treasure and shall not disturb the tears of my eyes and shall not deride my garment, shall not poison my meat and my drink and shall not defile with fornication the couch of my rest, and shall not violate my whole body which is exceeding delicate[.]

Marie-Louise von Franz, Aurora Consurgens, pp. 57-59

Von Franz comments:

“Were it not for that cautionary remark about possible defilement, the passage could be interpreted as the soul yearning for her soul-mate Christ; but then there would be no need of this anxious request that he should not injure her. The anima is not calling Christ to her aid, but a human ego. […]

The unconscious symbolism thus expresses that progressive Christification of the individual the importance of which is discussed by Jung in Answer to Job together with its religious background. The ordinary man is chosen to be the place of God’s birth, and in him is incarnated not only (as in Christ) the “light” side of Yahweh: in him God regenerates himself as a totality, in both his light and dark aspects. Thereby the individual man, as Aurora says, becomes a son of God and is placed “first and highest among the kings of the earth.” Not only does Wisdom promise to exalt the alchemist to the status of a Godman, she also promises to keep her “covenant faithful to him for ever.” Accordingly, since she is “friendly to man,” she offers him protection against the dangerous and incalculable side of herself, or of God, and causes God to adopt the kindly-father attitude. It is clear from the text that the author fully identifies his mysterious female figure, the anima in matter, with God. She is his feminine aspect, but at the same time, paradoxically, God himself.” (Ibid., pp. 232-233)

This long commentary is to make a single point: the anima is not interested in Christ but in the human ego. It’s the human ego, under the guidance of the anima who is “friendly to man”, that has to learn the way of embodying the light and dark aspects of a God that is being transformed in the crucible of ordinary man.

This can appear to be a contradiction with the previous part, where it was argued that the anima sides with the shadow, but it is not. First, the shadow is the unacknowledged part of the ego, so it’s still the ego if just in potential. Second, an ego that does not acknowledge his shadow is in a state of ego-self identity, a state of original wholeness but also immature inflation. As long as the ego is identified with the self, it’s in a dangerous state of unconsciousness. In this respect, the anima looks for a human ego who has achieved both differentiation from the self and conscious realization of the shadow.

Jung summarizes the anima as follows:

The anima is indeed the archetype of life itself, which is beyond all meaning and all moral categories.

Carl Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis (CW14), par 646

This explanation is both an accurate description and yet is at an uncomfortable level of abstraction. I hope that this article will bring the reader to a level of understanding which makes the statement above approachable.

For more explanation on the anima, I’ve found these bite-sized videos from Marie-Louise von Franz to be very useful at filling in the gaps that I have not touched on in this article.

On the anima and the mother complex:

Marie Louise von Franz – “When A Man Has Not Developed His Anima, His Feminine Side Is Narcissistic”
Marie Louise Von Franz – A Man’s Anima Reveals Itself In Sexual Fantasies
Marie-Louise von Franz – Men With A Split Anima Due To A Mother Complex
Marie Louise von Franz – The Anima and The Vampire
Marie-Louise von Franz – The Anima Has Many Stages
Marie Louise Von Franz – Breaking Away From The Mother
Marie-Louise Von Franz – The Positive Mother Complex
Marie Louise Von Franz – On Matriarchal Society & Balance In The Sexes

On the sexual instinct:

Marie-Louise von Franz – Relying Too Much On The Sexual Instinct
Marie-Louise von Franz – “Real Love Makes The Other Person Whole”
Marie-Louise von Franz – Only Go For Sex When The Feeling Is There

On women and the anima:

Marie Louise Von Franz – Women Who Play Up The Anima
Marie Louise Von Franz – How A Man’s Anima Affects Women
Marie-Louise von Franz – The Plight of North American Women

Up to here, I’ve described the anima from the empirical standpoint of analytical psychology by emphasizing some non-obvious elements that I’ve met in practice. I will now share more personal and practical approaches that I have found beneficial.

I’ve shared somewhere else that anima projection is the concept that made me interested in Jung.

There was a time in my life where I was in love with a female fictional character. I saw her as my muse and I dedicated my creative inspiration as well as the daily efforts of my life to her. I was intoxicated with this secret love that no one would understand but that was providing meaning and comfort to me.

A year or so after it started, I organized Valentine’s Day around this relationship. While it was meant to be a romantic experience, I ended up being angry at the fact that she was not real and I stopped the relationship. I now see this day as the deciding moment where the positive anima projection broke, which allowed me to start retrieving the projection.

Indeed, the next morning I was puzzled about what happened. I started to ask questions such as “why did I have a relationship with a character that did not exist, yet felt so real to me? And how is it possible that my attitude reversed in one day?”

Without any real knowledge about psychology, an insight came to me that this fictional relationship was a protection. It helped me in a time of isolation and alienation and gave me something to aim at and hold on to. Yet I’ve reached a point where I had outgrown the need for that temporary protection.

Later that week, I found out about the concept of the anima through this video and I have been a great admirer of Jung ever since.


This personal experience is surprisingly close to the theoretical description: the anima was constellated in the unconscious and ended up being projected on a fictional character (unconscious contents are always known first through projections). This led to me being able to introspect and later, with a practice of Internal Family Systems and active imagination, being able to retrieve the projection and work with the unconscious directly.

Anima projections are typically described as “falling in love”. What really happens is that the person falls in love with a part of himself through the projection that is now hooked onto a real person or, in my case, a fictional character.

The overwhelming intensity of “falling in love” with a projection (what Robert Johnson calls “the 10,000 volts love”) is very different from the more mature experience of love, affection, and care without projection (“the 110 volt love”). A “10,000 volts love” relationship is necessarily short-lived as it depends on the projection being able to stick to the other person. If the projection is interrupted or withdrawn, there is a looming realization that we were in the relationship for the wrong reasons. We were infatuated with something that belonged to ourselves and the other person, now seen without projection, can appear as a total stranger that we met for the first time.

The last point is that anima projections can evolve over time. The anima projection usually starts as something approximating the mother but can move to one of the different stages of development outlined above. If one does not work to retrieve the projection, one will have to repeat the experience of anima projection again and again until one becomes conscious that the anima is found within.

As the anima relies on the level of development of a man’s Eros, how does one develop Eros or the feeling function?

To this question, I know two exercises that played a substantial contribution in the development of my feeling function.

First, try dating yourself! This is an idea that came to me while reading Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. In that book, she provides two exercises, the morning pages (an excellent way to journal) and the artist date. The artist date is time that you reserve weekly for yourself as playful exploration. It could be a one-hour aquarium visit on the weekend, or anything that could be described as exploratory fun if you allowed yourself to have some guilt-free and playful time.

As I was doing an artist date, I thought that I should imagine dating myself, a kind of training for the real thing. So I came up with what I thought would be a good date, something that I would enjoy sharing with someone else. As I went ahead with the date, I went back and forth between a masculine and a feminine attitude. By doing so, I discovered how shallow my date was and how bored I was with it. From the perspective of the feminine attitude, it lacked something that was not easy to put into words. Something like fewer events and more character, or maybe fewer things and more intimacy.

Shifting in and out of the masculine or feminine attitude is a way to discover anew the challenges of each gender. Another time, I was at a concert and imagined myself to be a woman looking for a partner. The crowd was overwhelmingly male and I looked around from the feminine perspective of evaluating a future partner. The more I looked, the more I felt a deep emptiness that the people in my age range were too immature for me to feel even remotely interested. I felt a lot of compassion for women who cannot find a reliable partner to build a future with. 

Another exercise that is worth considering is to feel into art. When I read a book, watch a movie or look at a painting, I try to feel into the art and explore what comes to mind. For paintings, I try to feel both the piece and what it means to be the painter that would paint such a piece. For books and movies, I try to explore all characters and what it means to be in their world and in their situation.

This is a skill I learned by working with dreams. With dreams, I feel into the dream as if I entered a painting or a movie. I discovered quickly that you can do something similar with art or less obvious things like brand logos, menus at restaurants, or webpages.

One word of caution: by “entering” into the art with the feeling function, spontaneous emotions will rise and it is essential to not lose oneself in the process. Some stories and art are completely overwhelming, but they are not yours. So while it’s important to learn to extend empathy and meet the material halfway, it should never be confused with taking onto oneself something that does not belong to you. Identification with what isn’t yours is inappropriate and dangerous, if not immoral.

To finish this article, I would like to share a session of active imagination that can be best described as “anima work”.

After relaxing, I went into my inner world (as described here). I saw a woman who was wearing a Roman toga. Though I did not recognize her visually, I knew that she was my anima.

Because I usually end up around the shadow, I was genuinely surprised to see her and even more surprised that her demeanor was more assertive than usual, almost combative. “Come on, let’s go”, she said and I followed her. We ended up on top of a rock somewhere unknown. I was completely disoriented and I asked her what was happening. She pointed at something nearby. It was a giant colossus woman who was having some unrecognizable problem. I asked again what was going on and she replied, “Come on, do your thing,” without referring to what my thing was.

Still confused about the whole ordeal and seeing that my anima was not in a chatting mood, I went towards the female colossus and started talking to her. I noticed that she was in a great deal of pain and needed help. I said to her, “I see that you need help. I promise I won’t leave until your pain is eased.” She suddenly left out a cry and a wave of emotion went through the whole landscape. It lasted for a few seconds and I could barely keep composure throughout the whole cry. Once finished, I saw that she managed to process most of the emotions and looked lighter, almost smiling. I went back to my anima and, before I could say anything, we left and I came back to myself.

This happened around mid-2020 and I still am clueless about the meaning of this experience. I understand that I had to assist a figure (from the collective unconscious?) to work through her pain but I have no further insight. I’ve noticed that the act of being a conscious witness is usually enough for something to happen spontaneously and there isn’t necessarily a need for a lot of interaction. In active imagination, it’s the quality of presence that is the determining factor for the experience to go well.