Foxes, Archetypes, and Escape

Lately I’ve been thinking about foxes. While walking my dog Red through the neighborhood, we saw (or smelled from Red’s point of view) a fox sunning itself in the middle of the street with a carefree attitude. It lifted its hind leg to scratch an ear as we approached. The mail carrier driving by said he sees that fox and others regularly in different parts of the neighborhood.

A large tract of farmland adjacent to our suburban street was sold a few years ago. A sizable woodland was plowed over and turned into another subdivision, so many of the animals that used to live there have had to migrate. In the last week or so I’ve encountered, wild turkeys, coyotes, Canada geese, mallard ducks, and now, this fox.

My good friend, probably the one friend who has helped me the most to get through this pandemic in a creative and soulful way, taught a few of us how to draw a fox, and as usual, I combined my drawing with words and images inspired from archetype decks.

Fox as shapeshifter, shaman, an elusive, cunning, trickster
A more traditional fox combined with the archetype “Myth”

In western folktales, the fox is often depicted as the villain who violates the hen house, or else the concept is applied to women as “foxy ladies” in songs.

I’ve read a bit about the Japanese tales of the kitsune, and a while back I wrote this poem below that incorporates one of kitsune stories. It doesn’t feel like a finished piece to me, and I’ve since poached lines from it to include in other poems, but it does speak to a certain desire I’ve always had to journey on my own, to enter the wilderness of the world as a solo entity without protection from the structures of society.

The Fox Wife Leaves Her Husband a Note On the Kitchen Table

How to explain this need to flee our home.
She might have entered the half-moons of my fingernails
Or could it be that, when I unzipped my human sheath
To find her in my body, she had always lived here.
When the dog bared its teeth and growled
You laughed it off, but she, the one inside me,
Stopped eating. Sleepless, she stares
At the silhouette of pine branches under the moonlight,
blue-black fan of needles on the hard snow.
I've asked her not to leave, this fox inside me,
but once a dog bites, it doesn’t forget the taste of blood. I’ve left milk and rice for you and the boy.
Remember to make a paste of his meat before you feed him.
One night, I might return, if the vixen in me desires.

Mythy Mind

My word for 2010 is myth. I’m hoping to delve into any kind of myth, to create and re-create my own tales, poems, and videos. An exploration of myths goes along well with dream studies, symbolism, archetypes, folktales, fairy tales, songs, and poetry. I’m also interested in personal mythologies and urban myths.

The word came to me while I was folding clothes. Isn’t that the way it usually happens? While we do a repetitive action, like making the bed or washing the dishes, stuff bubbles up.

Thanks to Jessica-Fox Wilson for introducing me to this project, One Little Word, by Alie Edwards.

The collage at the top of the page is my first nod to myth. I scanned old magazines while looking for anything that reminded me of myth, and ended up with lots of circles and ovals. I connected them with lines, as if they were balloons, and added a stamped spiral for the fun of it. The background is a recycled grocery bag.

Sometimes I make collages as a way to get back into my creative space. It’s relaxing and meditative, plus it opens the door for writing.