I’m undertaking a 1000-day reinvention project, blogging here daily to track my progress. In Thursday Thinker, I share a smart idea or theory.
In Women Who Run with the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estés writes of women’s dual nature:
Anyone close to a woman is in fact in the presence of two women; an outer being and an interior criatura, one who lives in the topside world, one who lives in the world not so easily seeable. The outer being lives by the light of day and is easily observed. She is often pragmatic, acculturated, and very human. The criatura, however, often travels to the surface from far away, often appearing and then as quickly disappearing, yet always leaving behind a feeling: something surprising, original, and knowing.
Understanding this dual nature in women sometimes causes men, and even women themselves, to close their eyes and hail heaven for help. The paradox of women’s twin nature is that when one side is more cool in feeling tone, the other side is more hot. When one side is more lingering and rich relationally, the other may be somewhat glacial. Often one side is more happy and elastic, while the other has a longing for “I know not what.” One may be sunny, while the other is bittersweet and wistful. These “two-women-who-are-one” are separate but conjoined elements which combine in the psyche in thousands of ways.
As I write essays for my Things Men Gave Me art-and-writing project (TMGM), I confront myself as an object of evaluation and analysis. I seek to turn myself into a character, so I need some distance from my self in order to achieve that.
I have written three or four essays so far, and in each, I find the character of myself acting in ways that even I think are not okay. I become inflamed; I say things I should maybe not say out loud; I exit relationships without compassion or care.
Perhaps this is my inner criatura, creature, that Estés writes of, the wildish woman who does what she wants regardless of what other people think. I do know that usually I try to hide that part of me away, I try to keep her calm and quiet, and when she emerges I quickly try to get her back in some sort of kennel or cage or cave.
Estés says this is a mistake:
A woman has tremendous powers when the dual aspects of psyche are consciously recognized and beheld as a unit; held together rather than held apart. The power of Two is very strong and neither side of the duality should be neglected. They need to be fed equally, for together they bring an uncanny power to the individual….
[When] both sides of the dual nature are held close together in consciousness, they have tremendous power, and cannot be broken. This is the nature of the psychic duality, of twinning, the two aspects of woman’s personality. By itself the more civilized self is fine … but somehow lonely. By itself, the wildish self is also fine, but wistful for relationship with the other. The loss of women’s psychological, emotional, and spiritual powers comes from separating these two natures from one another and pretending one or the other no longer exists.
Perhaps one thread in my memoir-ish essay project is the acceptance of the wild part of my nature, and allowing her to exist alongside the civilized self, giving her a place that she did not have before. In the final act of the story, that wild woman is almost completely hidden and the task laid before me is to bring her into the light.
Do men have a dual nature too? Estés says they do. In writing about women’s dual nature she tells the story of Manawee, who courted twin sisters. The sisters’ father said he could not have them in marriage until he guesses their names. Manawee himself is unable to guess the names but his little dog figures them out. Then Manawee gets to marry both sisters, explicitly accepting women as two-in-one.
Estés writes:
This tale can be viewed as being about masculine duality as well as female duality. The Manawee man has his own dual nature: a human nature, and an instinctive nature as symbolized by the dog. His human nature, while sweet and loving, is not enough to win the courtship. It is his dog, a symbol of instinctual nature, that has the ability to creep near the women and with his keen listening hear their names. It is the dog that learns to overcome superficial seductions and retain the most important knowings. It is Manawee’s dog that has sharp hearing and tenacity, that has the instincts to burrow under walls, and to find, to chase, and to retrieve valuable ideas.
What kind of man should a woman look for? One like Manawee:
As in other fairy tales, masculine forces can carry Bluebeard-like or murderous Mr. Fox sorts of energy and thereby attempt to demolish the dual nature of women. That sort of suitor cannot tolerate duality and is looking for perfection, for the one truth, the one immovable unchangeable feminina substancia, feminine substance, embodied in the one perfect woman. Ai! If you meet this kind of person, run the other way as fast as you can. It is better to have a Manawee-type lover both within and without: He is a much better suitor, for he is intensely devoted to the idea of the Two. And the power of the Two is in acting as one integral entity.
A man who himself claims his wildish nature can “resonate to and have a taste for the wildish woman.”
In one of the final essays that will represent the climax of my memoir story in TMGM, I find myself in a relationship with a man who could not accept my creature side. He could not accept that when he berated me about something I would hide like a chastised dog rather than staying around to take the criticism. He could not accept that when he argued with me without listening to me, I argued back, like a cornered wolf snapping and snarling. He could not accept that sometimes I needed utter solitude and silence for my creative work, like a grizzly bear mama who retreats to her den to hibernate through the winter and give birth in complete isolation.
My partner Ray owns and expresses his wildish side. He delights in using his still-vigorous and strong body, for skiing, for strenuous home projects, and for lovemaking. He welcomes and feels intense passion, not like some men who can’t even fall in love. He tells me he still feels like he’s eighteen years old, a recognition of that part of him that is energetic, fearless, and driven.
He accepts both sides of me. When I retreat to silence and detachment, needing solitude and time alone, he accepts it and trusts I will come back. If I say something difficult, he doesn’t get angry or expect me to walk it back. He listens to it instead, and then we can work through it. When my criatura becomes excited about a plan or project, he joins me with interest and excitement of his own.
He is the first man who has fully engaged with my creations, my writing and my painting. He reads each blog post I write. He looks at my paintings, thinks about them, comments on them. He seeks to learn, about me, and about my world, through my creations.
Estés writes that this is the quality a wildish woman needs in a mate:
The mate for the wildish woman is the one who has a soulful tenacity and endurance, one who can send his own instinctual nature to peek under the tent of a woman’s soul-life and comprehend what he sees and hears there. The good match is the man who keeps returning to try to understand, who does not let himself be deterred by the sideshows on the road.
So, the wildish task of the man is to find her true names, and not to misuse that knowledge to seize power over her, but rather to apprehend and comprehend the numinous substance from which she is made, to let it wash over him, amaze him, shock him, even spook him. And to stay with it. And to sing out her names over her. It will make her eyes shiny. It will make his eyes shine.
“Soulful tenacity and endurance”: that definitely describes Ray.
I thought I would sit in the tent of my soul-life all alone for the rest of my life. But I am both surprised and happy to have met someone who can both peek into it, but also let me be alone in there when I need to be.
My eyes are shiny, and I think his are too, at this luck.