Underground Metro Subway
Under the ground: Usually symbolises inner feelings, unconscious direction and tendencies, things that influence you that act below the level of your everyday awareness. This could include childhood feelings or painful memories that are suppressed; instinctive or intuitive responses; family or personal attitudes that are deeply habitual.
The hidden side of yourself; what is going on underneath the everyday – street level – of your life; your unconscious depths of experience – ancient strata of psychological and physiological processes in you or parts of yourself you have ignored or buried.
Example: Suddenly I was in a huge underground cavern. It was hundreds of feet high and as wide. It had two great statues in it, both to do with death. The whole place overpowered me with a sense of decay and skeletal death, darkness, underground, earth, the end. I cried out in the dismal cave, ‘Death, where is your sting! Grave, where is your victory!’ I immediately had the sense of being a bodiless awareness. I knew this was what occurred at death. Fear and the sense of decay left me. Andrew.
Underground-Metro-Subway: Your exploration or realisation of your own usually unconscious tendencies and influences. Or perhaps what you are doing that is not accepted in general society – an ‘underground’ activity.
Your journeys into what is usually unconscious in you – such as realisation of childhood traits still active in you as an adult – meeting repressed sexuality – discovery of unexpressed potential or insight; something alternative you are considering or involved in – as in ‘underground’ newspaper; your unconscious connections with other people or things. See: tunnel.
Example: I was on a red underground train, sitting at the end of one of those carriages with door only in the middle. I noticed on the seats opposite me some cardboard boxes full of books and pamphlets. On looking at them I realised that they were mine. I got up to leave the train but the gangway was blocked by two well dressed coloured men. One of them – the furthest away – who looked whiter than the other, moved aside in a friendly fashion. The other remained in my way and I bumped into him trying to get by. Then I said “Excuse me” three times. He made no effort to move, in fact purposely ignored me. So I pushed by him, not roughly but firmly. As I stood at the doors waiting for them to open he rushed at me in anger, Our hands linked and we grappled together but I forced his hands down and felt a match for him. It went through my mind as we struggled, “This is what yoga has done.” (That is, given me the strength to hold my own against the coloured man.)