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    A Little Book on the Human Shadow
    A Little Book on the Human Shadow
    A Little Book on the Human Shadow
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    A Little Book on the Human Shadow

    By Robert Bly

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    About this ebook

    Robert Bly, renowned poet and author of the ground-breaking bestseller Iron John, mingles essay and verse to explore the Shadow -- the dark side of the human personality -- and the importance of confronting it.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 6, 2009
    ISBN9780061971174
    A Little Book on the Human Shadow
    Author

    Robert Bly

    Robert Bly's books of poetry include The Night Abraham Called to the Stars and My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy. His awards include the National Book Award for poetry and two Guggenheims. He lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

    Read more from Robert Bly

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    Reviews for A Little Book on the Human Shadow

    4/5

    66 ratings6 reviews

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    • 5/5
      The book talks about the psychological concept of the shadow, or shadow self. This is an idea that was put forth by C.G. Jung, the great psychoanalyst. The shadow is the part of you, and every human being, that is more-or-less your "dark side", or the part of you that people claim doesn't exist or won't admit that it does. Bly, through his writings, tries to show you how and why you should integrate with your shadow, and to not deny or suppress it. A wonderful book, I only wish it was a lot longer.
    • 5/5
      This book talks about the sides of an individual, the shadow which is the traits that we hide in our bags over time, and what we display, the good qualities, to others. This book is very thought-provoking. The book makes you think about how we live our lives. A must-read for anyone that is going through struggles or trying to understand the self.
    • 5/5
      Wonderful little book on jungian psychology and philosophy. In particular the idea of the human shadow. (Not a literal shadow lol)
    • 2/5
      I wanted to like Bly so much. He's a good poet, and (in contrast to his cartoonish reputation as a drum-circle men's advocacy godfather) seems to have a good handle on the mysterious power of age-old gender stereotypes over the human psyche. (Jungians call these stereotypes archetypes.) Unfortunately, this book is blather and twaddle. Blather: he frequently interrupts his arguments to quote approvingly and at length from his own poetry, which he clearly sees as God's primary gift to the modern world. Twaddle: well, consider this: "Thousands, even millions of men projected their internal feminine on to Marilyn Monroe. If a million men do that, and leave it there, it's likely she will die. She died. Projections without personal contact can damage the person receiving them....We have to say also that Marilyn Monroe called for these projections as part of her power longing...In the economy of the psyche her death was inevitable and even right. No single human being can carry so many projections—that is, so much unconsciousness—and survive." If you can read such stuff without projecting the book, quite consciously, into the nearest trash can, hats off to you.
    • 3/5
      Robert Bly has this wonderful Jungian lens through which he sees the world. Here he is discussing the subconscious mind, which he represents with the metaphor of the shadow. The book is distilled from three or four poetry readings he gave in the 1970s. He wants us to be in touch with our dark side, meaning the subconcious. The metaphor of the shadow he sees is also a bag in which we are forced to put every personal attribute not desired by our parents, who want us to be only "nice." Yet we are essentially wild animals at heart. What should we do with all that anger, rage, sexuality, creativity, whatever, that we've been forced to suppress? Well, when we get to about 35 or 40, Bly says, we have to start taking things out of the bag. Unless we take them out, unless we address them, we will become damaged. Please don't read this book if you've never had a psychology course or have not familiarized yourself with psychological concepts through reading, esp. Jungian ones. Those without such a background are likely to see Bly as little more than a raving lunatic. He is not. What I found fascinating (again) was how very discursive Bly's thought process is. He's been thinking in Jungian terms for so long that his analysis, essentially cultural analysis, psychohistory, can be a little dense at times. This is one of those books that you have to absorb over time, reflect upon, pick up again, and re-read. Fortunately it's only 81 pages long.

      2 people found this helpful

    • 5/5
      This book by Robert Bly is written so simply and clearly. It is a great book on the shadow side in all of us and its importance to the end development of the self.

      1 person found this helpful

    Book preview

    A Little Book on the Human Shadow - Robert Bly

    PART 1

    Problems in the Ark

    1

    Problems in the Ark

    We notice that when sunlight hits the body, the body turns bright, but it throws a shadow, which is dark. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. Each of us has some part of our personality that is hidden from us. Parents, and teachers in general, urge us to develop the light side of the personality—move into well-lit subjects such as mathematics and geometry—and to become successful. The dark part then becomes starved. What do we do then? We send out a crow.

    The dove returns: it found no resting place;

    It was in flight all night above the shaken seas;

    Beneath dark eaves

    The dove shall magnify the tiger’s bed;

    Give the dove peace.

    The split-tailed swallow leaves the sill at dawn;

    At dusk, blue swallows shall return.

    On the third day the crow shall fly.

    The crow, the crow, the spider-colored crow,

    The crow shall find new mud to walk upon.

    The poem refers to the Noah story, though I drew the images from an earlier version composed by the Babylonians, in which three birds took part. The poem came two or three years after college, and it seems to say that if any help was going to arrive to lift me out of my misery, it would come from the dark side of my personality. I remember this as one of the first things I understood clearly for myself. I felt that it was true also in politics—that is, what we needed to help us in the nation was not someone like Adlai Stevenson, who was too much like a swallow, or Bertrand Russell, who had too much light in his personality. Even Eugene McCarthy later on, who had a little more of the dark side, seemed to me a swallow, unable to find mud. Birds have become a problem for the United States. All we elect to the Presidency are doves or swallows, or white crows like Nixon.

    One afternoon, several years later, watching snow fall on some long grass, I felt the positive dark come in again.

    I

    The grass is half-covered with snow.

    It was the sort of snowfall that starts in late afternoon.

    And now the little houses of the grass are growing dark.

    II

    If I reached my hands down, near the earth,

    I could take handfuls of darkness!

    A darkness was always there, which we never noticed.

    III

    As the snow grows heavier, the cornstalks fade farther away,

    And the barn moves nearer to the house.

    The barn moves all alone in the growing storm.

    IV

    The barn is full of corn, and moving toward us now,

    Like a hulk blown toward us in a storm at sea;

    All the sailors on deck have been blind for many years.

    Sometimes the first snow comes while the grass is still green, and if the grass is long, bends it over, making little houses underneath. The barn at our farm that year was empty of animals, but full of corn, sealed in a government program, and though the corn belonged to my father, it was a sort of treasure. The image handfuls of darkness does not by itself make this a shadow poem. The poem approaches the shadow at the end as the writer gets more darkness than he bargained for.

    The ancient Chinese culture emphasizes the Yin-Yang symbol, which shows us the white part of the personality and the black part of the personality united inside a circle. I wrote this poem one spring day.

    I

    Oh, on an early morning I think I shall live forever!

    I am wrapped in my joyful flesh,

    As the grass is wrapped in its clouds of green.

    II

    Rising from a bed where I dreamt

    Of long rides past castles and hot coals,

    The sun lies happily on my knees:

    I have suffered and survived the night,

    Bathed in dark water, like any blade of grass.

    III

    The strong leaves of the box-elder tree,

    Plunging in the wind, call us to disappear

    Into the wilds of the universe,

    Where we shall sit at the foot of a plant,

    And live forever, like the dust.

    One could speculate that because ancient Chinese poets, Buddhist and non-Buddhist, tried to reconcile the dark side and the light side, they preserved more feeling for plants and animals than we have preserved. Plants are asleep, and so they live always in the dark side, though their leaves reach out for the light. So we could say that each weed in our back yard unites dark and light as the rose window of Chartres does, and sitting by them is much cheaper than flying over to France.

    The Busy Man Speaks

    Not to the mother of solitude will I give myself

    Away, not to the mother of love, nor to the mother of conversation,

    Nor to the mother of art, nor the mother

    Of tears, nor the mother of the ocean;

    Not to the mother of sorrow, nor the mother

    Of the downcast face, nor the mother of the suffering of death;

    Not to the mother of the night full of crickets,

    Nor the mother of the open fields, nor the mother of Christ.

    But I will give myself to the father of righteousness, the father

    of cheerfulness, who is also the father of rocks,

    Who is also the father of perfect gestures;

    From the Chase National Bank

    An arm of flame has come, and I am drawn

    to the desert, to the parched places, to the landscape of zeros;

    And I shall give myself away to the father of righteousness,

    The stones of cheerfulness, the steel of money, the father of rocks.

    Our culture teaches us from early infancy to split and polarize dark and light, which I call here mother and father. So some people admire the right-thinking, well-lit side of the personality, and that group one can associate with the father, if one wants to; and some admire the left-thinking, poorly-lit side, and that group one can associate with the mother, if one wants to, and mythologically with the Great Mother. Most artists, poets, and musicians belong to the second group and love intuition, music, the feminine, owls, and the ocean. The right-thinking group loves action, commerce, and Empire. You see how my mind is split, so that my description of the world encourages polarization. I longed for a poem in which this split would be clear. The speaker in my poem would have to be an extraordinarily conscious father-type, I expect, but the poem reminds us that there are people who make a decision to cut themselves off from the darkness. I’ll read a poem about early Pilgrim villages

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