Preface: Listening Then and Now
About thirty years ago, I had the opportunity to assist one of my shishyas with his PhD research on Emily Dickinson. During that time, he brought with him several books on her life and poetry. While staying in his village, I was given a quiet place to stay—a small, silent corner where no one would disturb me. There, I began reading Dickinson’s poems with great interest.
Though her style was not easy for me to follow, and I couldn’t always grasp the full depth of her expression, something in her words stayed with me. Each evening, I would walk along the river and sit quietly, surrounded by nature and silence. It was in those moments that I began to hear the gentle whisper of my own anima. I recorded those whispers as poems in my mother tongue. Though I had been writing poems since my college days, some of her thoughts deeply impressed me and found their way into a few of my verses.
That early encounter with Dickinson was my own—rooted in personal reading and experience, not secondhand summaries. So when I recently listened to a video exploring Jung’s Red Book,1 especially the section on Salomi—whom I might liken to Menaka [apsara2], the celestial nymph who seduced the sage Vishvamitra in Indian mythology—it brought those memories back with surprising force. I was reminded not only of Dickinson’s life and poems, but also of my own journey of listening to the inner voice.
This morning, after my usual walk through the quiet ashram grounds, I sat down to reflect—and these thoughts flowed naturally. It’s just another moment of listening to the gentle whisper of my own anima.
The Gentle Whisper of the Anima
Hidden Words, Hidden Worlds
After recording the gentle whispers of his anima, Carl Jung never published his Red Book, nor did he share it with family or students. Yet outwardly he continued his life of teaching and writing, while inwardly he kept documenting his private journey in silence.
Why did he hide it? Maybe he feared that his inner struggles wouldn’t match the image people had of him. Or maybe the world itself wasn’t ready. The Book didn’t yet have the strength to stand against the noise of the world. It had to stay in the dark until both the writer and the world were quiet enough to receive it.
Another Voice in Silence
When I heard this story about Jung’s inner journey, I remembered another quiet soul: Emily Dickinson. She too kept her poems hidden during her lifetime. Only a few were published while she was alive. The rest—nearly 1,800 poems—remained tucked away in drawers, written on scraps of paper and old envelopes.
People say she withdrew from the world because of her strict father, a sick mother who needed care, or maybe a broken love. But whatever the reason, she spent her life writing down the whisper she heard inside. And like Jung, she didn’t write for the world. She wrote because something within needed to be spoken.
“Tell all the truth but tell it slant —”
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise…3
She knew what Jung later discovered—truth doesn’t always arrive with thunder. Sometimes it comes in sideways. Quiet. Gentle.
Salomi and the Voice of the Soul
In the Red Book, Jung speaks of Menaka [Salomi], a vision of his anima. She appeared without demands. She didn’t argue. She simply said:
“I see you. Even though I’m blind, I see you.”
That one line broke something in him. Because that’s what the anima does. She sees—not with eyes, but with feeling. She doesn’t try to fix you or judge you. She only wants to know you, to reach those places no one else has touched.
And that’s why many run from her. The anima doesn’t care about your success, your reputation, or your cleverness. She wants your truth. And to face her, you must let go. You can’t control her. You have to surrender.
Jung tried to argue with her, to understand her. But it didn’t work. The feminine doesn’t move by logic. It moves by presence. That’s when Jung’s visions changed. Menaka came to him in many forms—sometimes as a lover, sometimes a child, a flame, a ghost. Always just beyond reach. Always full of mystery.
And she left behind questions, not answers.
- What does it mean to love the soul?
- What does it mean to listen—not with ears, but with the heart?
- What does it mean to feel, without needing to explain?
Jung came to realize: true transformation doesn’t happen by force. It happens by softness. The ability to be broken and still beautiful. This is what Menaka taught him. This is what the anima teaches us all.
The Whisper in the Fog
From ancient times, while the world roared like waterfalls and thunder, a few people turned inward to hear the gentler voice. The whisper of the soul. The whisper of the anima.
It doesn’t shout. It comes like morning mist—soft and barely visible. And when the sun rises, it fades. But it leaves a drop of dew on the tip of a blade of grass. And in that drop, the whole sun is reflected.
There were always those who heard that voice—in caves, forests, deserts, monasteries. They wrote down what they heard. Not to share with the world immediately, but to preserve it. Until someone, someday, would be ready to hear it.
Their voices were often drowned in noise. But the ones who were truly listening—they heard.
She Still Speaks
The Whisper Within
There must be more than this, you say—
A deeper light, a truer way.
That aching pull, so faint, so near—
It is her voice you start to hear.
That gentle stir, that breath within—
‘Tis Menaka beneath your skin.
She comes not loud, with trumpet’s call,
But like a leaf in silent fall.
If you would listen—not with ear,
But with the heart that draws her near—
A change may come, both soft and slow,
Like rivers learn their path to flow.
No need to strive, no mask to wear,
Just feel the truths you buried there.
And maybe, as your walls grow thin,
Your soul will start to speak again.4
Conclusion
Jung once wrote:
“The anima is the bridge to the Self. To ignore her is to remain lost.”
He wasn’t being poetic. He was being honest.
We may not all be like Jung or Dickinson. But each of us has an inner voice. A whisper waiting to be heard.
We don’t need to share it with the world. But we do need to listen.
Because truth doesn’t always arrive through ambition.
Sometimes it arrives in the stillness of a single moment.
In the tiny dew at the tip of a blade of grass, quietly reflecting the sun.
Ashram, July 7, 2025
Notes
- From The Red Book, Jung’s description of Salomi and her mysterious presence reveals his struggle to accept the feminine within. Her silent message—“I see you, even though I’m blind”—became a turning point. See also:
- Apsaras are celestial nymphs in Indian mythology, renowned for their beauty, grace, and enchanting dance. Often sent by the gods to tempt sages and heroes, they symbolize divine allure and worldly distraction. Among the most famous are Menaka, who seduced the sage Vishvamitra; Urvashi, celebrated in many ancient stories and love legends; and Rambha, known for her irresistible charm.
- Emily Dickinson’s poem “Tell all the truth but tell it slant” echoes this very idea of truth arriving in gentleness. Another of her poems reflects the quiet depth of the soul’s presence:
“A something in a summer’s Day”
A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me…
4 I used ChatGPT to help transform my original reflections into poetic form, in order to connect my own style with that of Emily Dickinson, while contrasting it with Jung’s more analytical prose. Since Dickinson belonged to the Victorian era, I asked ChatGPT to render the piece in a Victorian poetic style to better capture the spirit of her expression.
The Whisper Within
There must be more than this—I feel—
Some Truth the day forgets to seal.
A hush within, a tender sigh—
She stirs, though none may tell me why.
That ache—ah, yes—it speaks her name,
As candle flickers into flame.
And lo! that pulse so soft and true—
Is Menaka awaked in you.
Attend—not with the outer ear—
But with the soul that draws her near;
For hearts, not minds, must catch her sound,
Where reason fails, and dreams abound.
No proofs are asked, no deeds to show—
Just tears you never let to flow.
And buried hopes, long left behind,
Will rise to speak in gentler mind.
And oh—perhaps, when night is still—
Thy soul may whisper what it will.
And through the veil, so faint, so thin—
Thy self may call thy self within.
Appendix: A Short Note on Emily Dickinson. Created by ChatGPT. Accessed on July 7, 2025
Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) was a reclusive American poet whose work has become a cornerstone of American literature. She lived most of her life in Amherst, Massachusetts, rarely venturing out or meeting people. Yet in the quiet of her home, she wrote nearly 1,800 poems—most unpublished in her lifetime.
Her themes touched on death, immortality, nature, love, and the soul’s mystery. Her style—short lines, slant rhymes, dashes, and unusual syntax—often challenged readers but also gave her voice a unique intimacy.
Though she instructed her sister to destroy her poems after death, they were preserved instead—giving the world a treasure chest of inward, contemplative truth.
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