Ethereal exploration of Jung's Anima concept through intimate vocals and atmospheric soundscapes. Deep feminine energy transforms from obsidian night to dawn, weaving cellular wisdom into song. Mystical folk with ambient textures captures how the inner feminine communicates through dreams, intuition, and creative expression. Part of my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung” Chapter 6, Anima and Animus. I hope you can enjoy. S F H -Stephen Hollins


FEMININE WHISPERS

Black through black obsidian night
Your inner feminine
Forging silver notes into song
Each ripple encoding what marrow remembers

Deep in dream's labyrinth
She spins molecules into midnight silk
Her movements writing what tongue can't speak

Between heartbeats, hear how she transmutes
Your armor to astral radiance
As wild birds spiral threads of silk's light
Through your chest's dark cave

In cellular depths where time dissolves like salt
Braids sunrise with the mystery of the unknown
Your ancient feminine teaching bones to dance

Between heartbeats, hear how she transmutes
Your armor to astral radiance
As wild birds spiral threads of silk's light
Through your chest's dark cave

Deep in dream's labyrinth
She spins molecules into midnight silk
Her movements writing what tongue can't speak
Teaching bones to dance
Teaching bones to dance

Feminine Whispers

Late-night dance studio transformation where two dancers embody Jung's Anima/Animus integration through intimate tango.
Progressive house with Latin fusion, intimate vocals building to passionate intensity.
Core Message: Psychological wholeness requires embracing both masculine and feminine aspects within ourselves - a process as transformative as learning to dance with your own mystery. This song from my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung" Chapter 5 Anima and Animus. I hope you can enjoy 😆 S F H (Stephen Hollins)

TANGO

At Studio Paraíso, two forty-seven AM
Carmen adjusts her stilettos against scarred wood
While Marcus loosens his silk shirt collar
Each waiting for permission to become truth

Between flamenco's thunder and moonlit grace (Grace, grace)
We birth the twin who teaches us to dance (Ah-ah-ah)
With our own mystery (Own mystery, ooh-ooh)

Watch how the matador becomes the bull (Becomes the bull)
Ancient feminine wisdom writes passion (Passion, passion)
On our skin like scripture (Ah-ah-ah)
The dance floor trembles when opposites (Ooh-ooh-ooh)
Learn to lead and follow as one (As one, as one)

Between flamenco's thunder and moonlit grace (Grace, grace)
We birth the twin who teaches us to dance (Ah-ah-ah)
With our own mystery (Own mystery, ooh-ooh)
In the heart's quantum field (Quantum field)
All polarities dissolve (Dissolve, dissolve, ah-ah)

Between storm and stillness (Stillness, stillness)
Between fire and ice (Fire and ice, ooh-ooh)
Energy finds its own wild dance (Wild dance, ah-ah)
Particles waltz through probability's ballroom (Ah-ah-ah)
Where opposites learn love's fusion (Fusion, fusion)

Between flamenco's thunder and moonlit grace (Grace, grace)
We birth the twin who teaches us to dance (Ah-ah-ah)
With our own mystery (Own mystery, ooh-ooh)
In the heart's quantum field (Quantum field)
All polarities dissolve (Dissolve, dissolve, ah-ah)

[Instrumental bridge - flamenco guitar duet with hang drum]

They bow to each other at three thirty-three AM
No longer two people learning steps
But one soul dancing with itself
The integration has begun (Has begun, has begun, ah-ah-ah)


TANGO

Tango

Progressive house exploration of Jung's recurring dreams concept, where nightmares become psychological rehearsals revealing persistent unconscious concerns. 
This song explores concepts from my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung" Chapter 9: Dreams and Active Imagination, examining how recurring dreams serve as ongoing psychological rehearsals seeking resolution. I hope you can enjoy S F H (Stephen Hollins)

Night after night, the same melody plays
Night after night, the same melody plays
That Victorian house where stairs twist
And rearrange themselves like DNA strands

Four hooves balance on sleep's ledge
While behind me, something familiar
Stalks closer, its breath heavy with time
My father's broken watch tick-tocking
Backwards around its throat
The falling dream knows its choreography
Trapped in its glass

Night after night, the same melody
Arms conducting panic's symphony
Night after night, the same melody
Teeth grinding future into dust
That slow-motion plunge toward a bottom
That never arrives, never arrives

The chase scene gallops through decades
Each hoof-beat drumming questions
That echo down empty corridors
Where answers used to live
That calculus exam still waits
Unsolvable as childhood
My teeth dissolve like sugar cubes
In memory's bitter coffee
And always that red door I must open
Though I've memorized the monster's face
It wears my mother's smile

These reruns of the unconscious mind
Keep their sacred scheduling
We'll all take our places again
Tomorrow night, we'll all take our places
These faithful ghosts in endless dress rehearsal
Tomorrow night, we'll all take our places
For a play I'm still trying to wake from
Wake from, wake from
Dress rehearsal, dress rehearsal

In sleep's theatre, even the props
Know their poisoned roles
Rotary phones ring warnings too late
Skeleton keys rust in impossible locks
While backstage, my younger self
Keeps practicing lines from a script
That rewrites itself each time I try to speak
Hooves, ticking, phones ringing
The same melody plays, plays forever
In sleep's theatre of recurring dreams
The same melody plays, plays forever
These faithful ghosts rehearse their lines

Memory becomes myth, becomes myth
Tomorrow night, we'll all take our places again
These faithful ghosts in their endless dress rehearsal
Night after night the same melody plays
The same melody plays

by Stephen Francis Hollins


Slumbersong

Folk song embodies wounded healer archetype—personal trauma transformed into healing wisdom. A trauma ward worker discovers their own wounds ("that summer of pills and cold tile floors") create an internal map for guiding others through darkness. Each scar becomes compass and teacher, illustrating Jung's principle: only by integrating our shadow can we authentically hold space for another's pain, from my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung" Chapter 3 - Archetypes


The Healer's Hands   (Lyrics)

I learn healing through my own breaks
Where grief cracked my ribs, now I know
Exactly where to press, how long to hold
What comfort feels like from the inside out

Between midnight and dawn, souls arrive
To the ward, cracked like pottery, leaking light
Night after night, I collect their pain
Sea glass tumbling smooth in time's dark tide

Their bandaged wounds become my teachers
As my body remembers its own mending
Each broken place becomes a compass
Pointing others toward their healing dawn

My hands know the geography of breaking
That summer of pills and cold tile floors
Lives in my fingertips, guiding me through
Trauma Bay Three, where darkness turns to map

In the space between monitor beeps
Ancient alchemy transforms these wounds
Into tomorrow's medicine, each stitch
Pulls both healer and healing whole

When dawn spills its gold through blinds
My patients dream toward wholeness, I touch
My scars like ancient prayer beads, each one
Teaching twice, through breaking, through light

Healer's Hands

Healer’s Hands

The inner masculine and feminine qualities we carry and project onto others. In the "circus of relationships," the song questions whether we truly see our lovers or merely reflect our own inner opposites back to ourselves. Each encounter becomes a fragmented mirror revealing hidden Anima and Animus.. The core Jungian insight: relationships serve as psychological mirrors where we practice integration, blurring the line between self and other until we recognize we're "all just practicing to be each other's perfect reflection." From my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung" Chapter 5: Anima and Animus.

Folk Rock (40%), Pop Rock (23%), Indie Rock (20%), Soft Rock (16%)


Mirror,Mirror  (Lyrics)

In the circus of relationships
I wander
Surrounded by mirrors of distorted dreams
My animus flexes
My anima dances
Are these reflections truly my own?
A lover's eyes become a looking glass
When the mirror cracks truths spill out
In you, I see my strength
In her, my grace
The line between us blurs, a smudged border
With each encounter I piece together
My fragmented whole
In the circus of midnight mirrors
I catch myself wondering
What if we're all just practicing
To be each other's perfect reflection?

Stephen Francis Hollins

Mirror, Mirror

Explores how we project unacknowledged inner qualities onto romantic partners. Through New Zealand nature imagery, the song charts the journey from idealised love (seeing missing parts of ourselves in another) through disillusionment (borrowed strength fading) to psychological maturity. The core insight: the courage, grace, and wholeness we seek in lovers already exists within us, sleeping like seeds. Love matures when we reclaim these projections and meet as equals—"not your missing piece, but your equal in this wild garden of becoming." From my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung" Chapter 5: Anima and Animus. 
Jazz (43%), Jazz, Nu Jazz / Jazztronica (38%) Singer Songwriter (22%) Adult Contemporary (20%)
Jazz, Blues, Neo-Soul (15%)


A Field Guide to Projection  (Lyrics)

In the wild meadow of new love, we stand
Like pohutukawa reaching toward light
Morning mist wraps around our ankles
Kowhai petals scatter gold secrets
I see in you the quiet grace I've yet to embrace
While you mirror parts of me I've forgotten to claim

Seasons turn like pages in memory's book
Our shared story begins to blur
Your strength, once solid as Tane Mahuta
Trembles like flax in southerly winds
My warmth, borrowed from your fire
Fades like sunset on harbor waters

Thunder rolls through our shared silence
In winter's bare-branched honesty
Truth rises like dawn on Waiheke
The courage I sought in your heart
Was my own, sleeping like seed in soil
The gentleness you found in my hands
Your own grace, waiting to bloom

Our projections fall like autumn leaves
Becoming food for deeper roots
Spring arrives with its own wisdom
Morning paints messages on waves
Your hand in mine familiar as birdsong
In your eyes, I see myself at last
Not your missing piece, but your equal
In this wild garden of becoming
Between us, something entirely new
Takes root in ancient soil

A Field Guide to Projection

Explores Jung's Shadow Resistance—the internal struggle against limiting beliefs and internalised doubts. Doubt personifies as a "squatter in the rooms of my potential," dragging chains of inherited fear and family patterns. The song charts the journey from being trapped by self-limiting beliefs to learning doubt's language and translating warnings into "maps of resistance." The core Jungian insight: by confronting rather than avoiding our shadow doubts, we transform them from predators into guides, reclaiming our psychological territory until "my body: a country where his passport no longer works." From my upcoming book "Breakfast with Jung"  Chapter 2 The Shadow

All Of Me  (Lyrics)

Doubt slouches in, heavy-shouldered and gray
A squatter in the rooms of my potential
Unpacking memories like old, worn luggage
She whispers: "Remember your limits"
His voice, sandpaper against possibility
Drags chains of inherited fear
Each link a story I've swallowed whole
But I am learning her language
Translating her warnings into maps of resistance
My bones, a rebellion waiting
Doubt circles, predatory
Teeth of calculation, eyes of measured impossibility
He knows every locked door
Every bolted window of my hesitation
I stand, breath sharp as broken glass
Hands open to whatever comes
Doubt shrinks, retreats
A shadow growing smaller against the landscape of becoming
My body: a country where his passport no longer works
Belief, not a destination
But the first wild step beyond his maps
Beyond his maps

All Of Me

Explores Jung's Shadow Creativity—how confronting dark, rejected aspects of self becomes fuel for artistic expression. In "the basement jazz club of my psyche," the shadow transforms from enemy to creative collaborator. Rejected thoughts, rage, despair, and monster-dreams become poetic ingredients, proving that wholeness requires integrating darkness. The core Jungian insight: authentic art emerges when we "let our shadows hold the pen"—creativity deepens when we stop censoring our psychological underground and allow light and darkness to collaborate in making "art's perfect mongrels." From my upcoming book Breakfast with Jung" Chapter 2 The Shadow.

Dark Muse   (Lyrics)

Ink-black feathers unfurl in my ribcage
A raven's heart where mine should be
In the basement jazz club of my psyche
Where shadows jam with silenced songs
My dark muse waits at a corner table
Ink dripping from her fingertips like night
She deals inspiration like tarot cards
Each verse a small apocalypse
While creativity bleeds black butterflies
That leave prophecy-stains on reality
We brew poems in grandmother's cast iron pot
Seasoned with secrets, spiced with shame
Every rejected thought becomes an ingredient
Rage boils down to ruby droplets
Despair crystallizes into salt
Even my monster-dreams find their form
Transforming terror into terrible beauty
While the pot hums ancient melodies
Now we collaborate in candlelight
Her shadow-fingers laced through mine
Each stanza a confessional booth
Where sin becomes sacrament
Grammar breaks its bones and heals
Into shapes we never knew it could hold
In the margins, roses bloom with thorns intact
Beauty refuses to apologize for its edges
Together we birth art's perfect mongrels
Half-prophecy, half-nightmare
Every line another tightrope walk
Between what's proper and what's real
Watch how darkness learns to illuminate
While light bends toward mystery
This is how we make our peace
Creating children that both sides will claim
My dark muse smiles, closes her journal
The poems we've made belong to neither
But crawl between us like shared secrets
Their wings still wet with midnight ink
Some truths can only be written
When we let our shadows hold the pen
While conscience sleeps, and art runs wild
Through dream-fields ripe with possibility

by Stephen Francis Hollins

Dark Muse

Poet • Performer • Composer • Lyricist

New tracks tagged #Breakfast with Jung