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I have this voodoo doll from my sister. This gal is supposed to bring me happiness and bliss. She's not a hottie by any means and some might find her downright frightening; her arms and legs are made of swamp grass, she wears a walnut shell for a headdress, and her gown is essentially scraps of fabric, lace and netting haphazardly sewn together. She is totemic and ageless, primitive--- issuing forth from the limbic portion of the brain, the dark wisdom of the past. On the other hand, she might just be a stock souvenir for all the white people, hurricanes in hand, as they browse through Bourbon Street. I don't know--- I'm not cynical. I like my dollie. For me, she lives in the same land as Jung's shadow self; the dark side of our soul that terrifies us, yet if we embrace it, hold it close to our hearts, bring it out into the bright light of day, our reward, if we believe Jung, is wisdom. I don't know if this is true. I just like the fact that she both repels and comforts me.