Utae

The One Ring, as an external object, represents the hidden darkness within all beings. It does not simply impose evil from the outside; rather, it reveals what already exists within, amplifying the ring bearer's deepest, often unconscious, desires for power, control, or survival. I see the Ring as both the Collective and the Personal Shadow in Jungian terms — a manifestation of the darkness that resides not only in individuals, but in all of Middle-earth.

By carrying the Ring, Frodo is in constant confrontation with his own Shadow — the hidden, darker aspects of the self, which Jung defines as "the thing a person has no wish to be". His journey, to me, is the psychological equivalent of undergoing Shadow work: he is forced to look into the abyss of his own nature, to confront his potential for greed, corruption, and even cruelty.

Unlike (my dear) Boromir, who denies his own susceptibility and is thus consumed by it, Frodo is well aware of his vulnerability. He knows what the Ring could turn him into, which is why he resists the temptation to use it. He has glimpsed the depths of his Shadow and understands its power. Because of this, he refuses to arm it. He knows that once he hands his Shadow a weapon, it may never let go. Thus, both in the books and in the movies, Frodo has not killed anyone. Professor Tolkien makes sure to remind us of it in "The Scouring of Shire".

Yet true individuation does not come from merely resisting the Shadow but from integrating it — acknowledging its presence without being ruled by it. This is the essence of Frodo’s transformation.

At the beginning of his journey, his understanding of morality is simplistic: good vs evil, deserving vs undeserving. He believes justice is about giving people what they “deserve". We can see this in "The Shadow of the Past" of "The Fellowship of the Ring".

'What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!'

But as he carries the Ring (undergoes the shadow work), he realizes that the line between good and evil is not external — it runs through his own soul (subconscious).

By the time he returns to the Shire, he has changed in ways that make it impossible for him to reintegrate.

His final refusal to kill the ruffians and Saruman (in "The Scouring of Shire"), even after Saruman tries to stab him, shows the full "glory" of his transformation. He could act in anger, but he knows that doing so would only feed the very Shadow he has spent so long confronting. He has seen the full potential of The Shadow (both collective and his own), and thus, he does not wish to "entertain" it but arming it.

‘All the same,’ said Frodo to all those who stood near, ‘I wish for no killing; not even of the ruffians, unless it must be done, to prevent them from hurting hobbits.’

But even as Saruman passed close to Frodo a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned on the hidden mail-coat and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by Sam, leaped forward with a cry and flung the villain to the ground. Sam drew his sword. ‘No, Sam!’ said Frodo. ‘Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his cure is beyond us; but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it.’ Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred. ‘You have grown, Halfling,’ he said. ‘Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you! Well, I go and I will trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell.’ "The Scouring of the Shire", "The Return of the King"

Frodo has ventured deeper into himself than most ever will, and though he has integrated his Shadow, the wounds remain. This is why he cannot stay — his journey has taken him beyond what the Shire represents.

But Art also confronts. It grips us by the shoulders, demanding that we open our eyes to the raw, unadorned reality of existence. It challenges the lies we tell ourselves and the illusions we construct, and forces us to reckon with the depths of our humanity. In confrontation, Art becomes the wound that refuses to heal until we take care of it. With its blood and pus, Art paints a picture of what is.

Though it might seem so, these functions are not opposites — they are intertwined; a good piece of art achieves not just a balance but a fusion, where escapism and confrontation become two edges of the same sword. This dual-edged nature is what gives Art its power. The escapist edge whispers of what the world should be; the confrontational edge reveals what the world truly is.

love her in the way a frightened deer will lock its knees & not move again. Even if that means burning alive.