The Symbolism of the Dragon

“Dragons are subterranean, winged, smoke- and fire-breathing creatures, hybrid go-betweens in a magical bond between heaven and the underworld, where they guard secret treasures and reign over fires and concealed palaces.”

A description found on Dragon Path on Mount Pilatus (known as Dragon Mountain) in Switzerland

Dragons have manifested across virtually every culture throughout history. Humankind appears to possess “an instinct for dragons”, evidenced by the presence of a name for this mythical creature in the majority of languages. (1) Tolkien called his dragon Smaug, which is connected to the old Germanic word “smeugan” – to squeeze through a hole. In my native Polish we refer to it as smok, which takes us back to proto-Indoeuropean “smewk” – e.i. to slither, to sneak. In the majority of other European languages, including English, variations of the Latin term dracō are employed. This term is borrowed from the Greek δράκων (drákōn), which directly translates to “keen-sighted,” derived from the Greek δέρκεσθαι (dérkesthai) meaning “to observe sharply or keenly.” Not all scholars fully embrace this etymology but based on the language alone we have a stealthy creature with a keen sense of sight. It is worth mentioning that Greek drakontes had more serpent-like characteristics than the standard medieval dragon. The drakontes were not snakes, however, which were called ophis in Ancient Greece. In Greek mythology, a diverse array of creatures were categorized as drakontes. Among them were notable figures such as Typhon, Echidna, Ladon, Hydra, the Sphinx, and Python—often depicted as a female dragon, or drakaina. Even Asclepius was occasionally referred to as the dragon. In Indian Myth, the equivalent creatures to the Greek drakontes were probably the Nagas, associated with water, fertility, protection and wisdom. Vishnu is often depicted as resting on a Naga called Shesha, who is a serpent with a thousand heads.

Shri Sheshanarayana
West Bengal, Calcutta, via https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/849519

The dragon is at home in all four elements and in all worlds: in the sky, in the water, on the earth and in the underworld. In his Book of Imaginary Beings Jorge Luis Borges writes the following about the Eastern Dragon:

“Generally, it is imagined with a head something like a horse’s, with a snake’s tail, with wings on its sides (if at all), and with four claws, each furnished with four curved nails. We read also of its nine resemblances: its horns are not unlike those of a stag, its head that of a camel, its eyes those of a devil, its neck that of a snake, its belly that of a clam, its scales those of a fish, its talons those of an eagle, its footprints those of a tiger, and its ears those of an ox. … . It is customary to picture them with a pearl, which dangles from their necks and is a symbol of the sun. Within this pearl lies the Dragon’s power. The beast is rendered helpless if its pearl is stolen from it. According to its will, the Dragon can become visible or invisible. In springtime it ascends into the skies; in the fall it dives down into the depths of the seas.

The Celestial Dragon carries on its back the palaces of the gods that otherwise might fall to earth, destroying the cities of men; the Divine Dragon makes the winds and rains for the benefit of mankind; the Terrestrial Dragon determines the course of streams and rivers; the Subterranean Dragon stands watch over treasures forbidden to men.”

Detail from Nine Dragons by Chen Rong (1244). View the entire scroll here

In Western tradition, the most brilliant elucidation of the dragon symbolism is perhaps to be found in alchemy, as Jung writes:

“The dragon in itself is a monstrum—a symbol combining the chthonic principle of the serpent and the aerial principle of the bird. It is, as Ruland says,’ a variant of Mercurius. But Mercurius is the divine winged Hermes, manifest in matter, the god of revelation, lord of thought and sovereign psychopomp. The liquid metal, argentum vivum—‘living silver,’ quicksilver—was the wonderful substance that perfectly expressed the nature of the στίλβων*: that which glistens and animates within. When the alchemist speaks of Mercurius, on the face of it he means quicksilver, but inwardly he means the world-creating spirit concealed or imprisoned in matter. The dragon is probably the oldest pictorial symbol in alchemy of which we have documentary evidence. … Time and again the alchemists reiterate that the opus proceeds from the one and leads back to the one, that it is a sort of circle like a dragon biting its own tail. … Mercurius stands at the beginning and end of the work: he is the prima materia, the caput corvi, the nigredo; as dragon he devours himself and as dragon he dies, to rise again as the lapis. … He is metallic yet liquid, matter yet spirit, cold yet fiery, poison and yet healing draught—a symbol uniting all opposites.“

C.G.Jung, Psychology and Alchemy, CW vol. 12, par. 404

Like Mercurius, also the dragon is a universal symbol that is everywhere, encompassing all opposing aspects within itself. In his Lexicon of Alchemy, Martin Rulandus, writes that Mercurius is the subject and matter of the philosophical stone, i.e. its spirit and its body. The ancient Greek name of Mercury was Stilbon – the gleaming one. In his magnum opus Mysterium Coniunctionis, Jung quotes from an invocation to Mercurius found in the Great Magic Papyrus of Paris in order to illustrate the spirit Mercurius as “the personification and living continuation of the spirit”:

“Greetings, entire edifice of the Spirit of the air • • • thou that hast the form of aether, of water, of earth, of wind, of light, of darkness, glittering like a star, damp-fiery-cold Spirit!
C.G.Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW vol. 14, par. 232

J.R.R. Tolkien, Conversation With Smaug (1937)

The symbolism of the dragon is intricately tied to that of treasure. In numerous tales, dragons are depicted lying dormant atop mounds of gold. In The Desolation of Smaug, the second part of The Hobbit trilogy, the dragon is put in liquid gold by the dwarves. While watching the movie recently, I could not help but marvel at how mercurial the main character – Bilbo – is. He is hired as a “burglar” which is an obvious allusion to the Greek god of thieves. Deep within the tunnels of the Misty Mountains, he finds the ring of power, a symbol steeped in rich meaning, yet notably emblematic of the alchemical opus and its cyclic nature. Like Hermes, he is repeatedly described as light-footed. He is a story-teller and a writer. Furthermore, he does not fight the dragon but engages in endless witty debates with him.

J.R.R Tolkien, Smaug Flies Around the Lonely Mountain

In the final scene of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, the dragon awakens and there is a close-up of his gleaming eye. Something has stirred in the unconscious, and the potent forces cannot be suppressed any longer. The Book of Symbols edited by Ami Ronnberg identifies the dragon with the unconscious:

“As an image of the unconscious, the dragon moves in and out of psyche’s darkness, showing only parts of itself, evanescent.”

According to Cirlot’s  Dictionary of Symbols, dragons are an amalgam of elements taken from various animals that are extremely aggressive and dangerous, such as serpents, crocodiles, lions and prehistoric animals. They are an expression of the amoral realm of pure instinct, chaos and dissolution. As such, they stand as the primal adversaries of the mythic hero, whose quest ultimately revolves around forging an individual solar consciousness. As such dragons can also be viewed as embodying the shadow of the hero and a sum of all his fears. To the extent that the western hero is usually a man, the female has been frequently symbolized or demonized as a dragon. The myth of Delphi can be viewed as depicting solar consciousness violently tearing the secrets from the bosom of the earth goddess. The Book of Symbols describes the dragon as “the swamping, primeval mother world of nature and instinctuality.” The mythical Python, son of Gaia, the earth goddess, was either a serpent or a dragon. He guarded the sacred stone (Omphalos or the navel stone) at the oracle of Delphi. The Sun God Apollo slew the Python and established his oracle upon his corpse. His prophesying priestesses received the name Pythia.

Edward Burne-Jones, “Sibylla Delphica”

The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols by Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant sees the dragon as a symbol of “the life force and power of manifestation, ejaculating the primeval waters of the world-egg.” In Chinese lore, the dragon brings fertilizing rain showers. Hexagram K’ien, also known as Hexagram 1, is the first hexagram in the I Ching, and as Chevalier puts it, it depicts:

“the six stages of manifestation, from the ‘hidden dragon,’ potentiality, immanent and inactive, to the ‘swooping dragon’ which returns to the First Cause, through the dragon ‘in the fields’, ‘leaping’ and ‘flying.'”

As a symbol of potency, the dragon was often the emblem of earthy powers of kings and emperors in many cultures. But as a symbol of wholeness, the dragon is both yin and yang, as the Penguin Dictionary of Symbols further elucidates:

“The upsurge of the thunder-cloud, which is that of the yang, of life, of plant-growth and the cycle of regeneration, is embodied in the appearance of the constellation of the Dragon, which corresponds to Spring, the east and the colour green. The Dragon rises with the vernal and sets at the Autumn equinox, heralded by the positions of the stars kio and ta-kio, the ‘Dragon’s Horns’, the bright stars Spica in the constellation Virgo and Arcturus in Bootes. … the head and tail of the dragon are nodes in the lunar orbit, the points at which eclipses occur. … As the sign of thunder and the spring and of celestial activity, the dragon is yang; but yin as ruler of the realm of the waters.”

In astrology, eclipses are both yang and yin, as is the dragon: they symbolize chaotic darkness and dissolution but also potent new beginnings. Eclipses are believed to symbolically represent the clash of regressive and progressive forces.

Draco by Johannes Hevelius (1690) via https://www.wallhapp.com/urano/uranographia-by-johannes-hevelius

The parallel between the cyclic nature of the alchemical opus and the dragon’s significance within it is readily apparent.

The treasure that the dragon guards so jealously are the inner riches of the individual soul. As The Book of Symbols puts it:

“As the divine ’round’, with its head in eternity, the dragon encompasses, guards and gestates the treasure of the self.”

These treasures gestate in the darkness of the dragon’s cave, patiently awaiting the moment of manifestation. Dragons are always lurking at the roots, where all things begin, where the first stirrings of consciousness occur in the subterranean cauldrons. They are there at the entangled roots of the World Tree, as the Norsemen saw it in their myth of the great ash Yggdrasil. Níðhöggr, a serpent-like monster/dragon was believed to gnaw at the roots of Yggdrasil, ultimately bringing death and a subsequent renewal. The dual nature of the dragon, capable of both destruction and regeneration, recurs as a prevalent motif in numerous myths. As we can read in Jung’s Red Book, “If one waits long enough, one sees how the Gods all change into serpents and underworld dragons in the end.”

In another Greek myth, the drakon Ladon watches over the golden apples of Hesperides; golden apples being yet another apt symbol of the goal of the alchemical opus and the attainment of the individuated self. By killing Ladon Heracles gained immortality. The Garden of the Hesperides lay in the farthest reaches of the western realms. The Hesperides, nymphs linked to the evening or the setting sun (with Hesperus representing the Greek embodiment of the evening star), tended to this garden. The apple holds rich symbolic significance, representing consciousness. Furthermore, as Robert Graves wrote in his White Goddess:

 “For if an apple is halved cross-wise each half shows a five-pointed star in the centre, emblem of immortality, which represents the Goddess in her five stations from birth to death and back to birth again. It also represents the planet of Venus—Venus to whom the apple was sacred—adored as Hesper the evening star on one half of the apple, and as Lucifer Son of the Morning on the other.”

Edward Burne-Jones, “The Garden of the Hesperides”

The maiden holds a prominent place among the symbols of Mercurius in alchemy, while in Jungian psychology, the anima is regarded as the embodiment of the soul. This association between the maiden and the dragon has persisted throughout history. Tertullian, early Christian author and theologian, wrote that the Vestal Virgins, who guarded the sacred flame in the Temple of Vesta, located in the Roman Forum, regularly carried meals to the dragon that resided below the temple. (2) Similarly, the Delphic Pythia obtained her prophetic powers from the serpent that resided underneath her tripod.

Since the dragons symbolize both the yin and yang aspect of the tao, they can be viewed as both feminine and masculine. The dragon-fighting masculine heroes often resemble the dragon themselves. One prominent example is Sigurd (Sigfried), a dragon-slaying hero of a Norse myth, who gave himself a horny skin by smearing the blood of the dragon Fafnir on himself. He also swallowed the slain dragon’s heart, and as a result gained the ability to understand the language of the birds. A Greek hero Cadmus, founder of the city of Thebes, was also a dragon slayer. Together with his wife Harmonia, he was subsequently transformed into a dragon by Zeus. The myth of Cadmus and the dragon, as well as other similar myths, are often interpreted as symbolic of the struggle between civilization and chaos, with Cadmus representing the forces of order overcoming the primal forces of chaos embodied by the dragon. In his book Mythic Figures, James Hillman repeats after Joseph Campbell that “the work of the hero is to slay the tenacious aspect of the Father/Dragon/Ogre/King, and release the vital energies that will feed the Universe.” The reactionary aspects of the Senex, says Hillman, are killed by the dragon-fighting young hero. Thus, a civilization is renewed.

Maxfield Parrish, “Cadmus Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth”

Dragons possess a softer and more yielding aspect alongside their formidable nature. While they are at ease in all elements, it is water with which they are most commonly associated. The tao, the way of the universe, has a waterlike nature: it is soft and yielding and yet it has the power to wear rock and shape the landscape. The constellation of Draco was compared to the flowing river by the Greeks. (3) When Zeus struck the dragon Typhon with his thunderbolt, a river was formed where the monster’s body had fallen. This reminds me of a founding tale from my city of birth: Krakow in Poland. There a dragon, which had been terrorizing the city, was duped by a trickster shoemaker called Dratewka. Dratewka offered the dragon a sheep, which was secretly stuffed with sulfur. The dragon swallowed the sheep and developed enormous thirst. As a result, it drank the whole river and burst, most probably bringing fertility to the fields around Krakow.

The Dragon of Krakow

Also in Chinese lore, dragons have the power to control water-related phenomena, including rain, floods, and rivers. They are viewed as benevolent creatures that bring renewal, fertility and prosperity. In the Hellenistic era, the benevolent Agathos Daimon, who is portrayed as a dragon by Ogden, was identified with a branch of the river Nile. (4) One of the attributes of the Agathos Daimon (Benevolent Spirit) was the caduces of Hermes, linking the daimon to the alchemical Mercurius. Ogden remarks that in the Greek Magical Papyri, Agathos Daimon is explicitly associated with Hermes, and both are viewed as bringers of luck and wealth. (6)

Agathos Daimon depicted in the Catacombs of Kom El Shoqafa, Alexandria, Egypt (notice the caduceus)

In addition to watery landscapes, the earth was also considered the natural habitat of dragons. As Ogden puts it:

“… drakontes were often regarded as emanating from the earth and retaining a special bond with it.” (5)

Notably, Typhon and Python were both offspring of the earth goddess Gaia.

In summary, the dragon symbolism shows the comprehensive nature of this emblem. Like alchemical Mercurius, it is both creative and destructive, both masculine and feminine, both dangerous and benevolent. As Jung elegantly puts it:

“The alchemical parallel to this polarity is the double nature of Mercurius, which shows itself most clearly in the Uroboros, the dragon that devours, fertilizes, begets, slays, and brings itself to life again. Being hermaphroditic, it is compounded of opposites and is at the same time their uniting symbol: at once deadly poison, basilisk, scorpion, panacea and saviour.”

C.G.Jung, Psychology and Alchemy, CW vol. 12, par. 460

*στίλβων – stílbō – Ancient Greek – to shine, to gleam; Stilbon (the gleaming one) was an Ancient Greek name for Mercury

Notes:

(1) David E. Jones, An Instinct for Dragons (Psychology Press, 2002).

(2) Daniel Ogden, Drakon: Dragon Myth and Serpent Cult in the Greek and Roman Worlds (OUP Oxford, 2013).

(3) Ibid.

(4) Ibid.

(5) Ibid.

(6) Ibid.

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The Sibyls

“But she stood … black like an ancient citadel … as the words, which unrestrained now multiplied in her against her will, screamed and flew around her in incessant circles, while those that had returned home set darkly beneath her eyebrows’ arches,waiting calmly for the night.”

R.M. Rilke, A Sibyl, New Poems, translated by Edward Snow

Nothing certain is known about the Sibyls. Their prophecies, like autumn leaves, vanished, the original scrolls consumed by flames. It is said the Sibyls existed before the dawn of civilization, foretelling apocalyptic events of great significance throughout human history. They were known to inhabit sacred caves. All that remains are legends and haunting depictions of women clutching sacred scrolls. Despite consulting numerous sources, I have yet to unravel their enigma. My quest began with Pausanias.

Pausanias, an ancient Greek traveller and geographer, is believed to have lived during the 2nd century AD. During this period, Greece was a part of the Roman empire, and he was a Roman subject, who decided to explore the country of his ancestors. His renowned work, Description of Greece, was composed during this period as he journeyed through various regions of Greece, recording details about the landscapes, historical sites, and cultural aspects prevalent during his time. He had a special fondness for myth and legend, which he recorded with meticulous detail. He has been referred to as “the first travel writer.” A scholar John Elsner called him more aptly “a Greek pilgrim in the Roman world”:

“I examine how a single Greek, living under the Roman empire, used myths of the an Greek past and the sacred associations of pilgrimage to shield himself from the full implications of being a subject.” (1)

Here is what Pausanias had to say about the Sibyls:

“There is a projecting stone above, on which the Delphians say the first Herophile, also called the Sibyl, chanted her oracles. I found her to be most ancient, and the Greeks say she was the daughter of Zeus by Lamia the daughter of Poseidon, and that she was the first woman who chanted oracles, and that she was called Sibyl by the Libyans.” (2)  

Michelangelo – Delphic Sibyl

The ancient Greeks had various interactions and connections with the Libyans, who inhabited the region of North Africa known as Libya. Greek colonization efforts extended to parts of North Africa, including Cyrenaica (present-day eastern Libya). Greek settlers established colonies in these regions, leading to the mingling of Greek and Libyan cultures. Cyrenaica, for example, became a Greek colony known for its agricultural prosperity and cultural contributions. The Libyan Sibyl was a prophetic priestess at the Oracle of Zeus-Ammon at Siwa Oasis in the desert of Libya. According to Plutarch, she was visited by Alexander the Great, whom she confirmed to be a god and the Pharaoh of Egypt.

Libyan Sibyl, Cathedral of Siena

Still, it seems very unclear, who the first Sibyl was or where she was born. Two possible places are Delphi and Libya. This is also confirmed in the writings of Clement of Alexandria, a Church Father, who was influenced by Gnosticism, Jewish philosophy and Hellenistic philosophy. In a passage from his Stromata we can read:

“Heraclitus says that, not humanly, but rather by God’s aid, the Sibyl spoke. They say, accordingly, that at Delphi a stone was shown beside the oracle, on which, it is said, sat the first Sibyl, who came from Helicon, and had been reared by the Muses. But some say that she came from Milea, being the daughter of Lamia of Sidon [modern Lebanon]. And Serapion, in his epic verses, says that the Sibyl, even when dead ceased not from divination. And he writes that, what proceeded from her into the air after her death, was what gave oracular utterances in voices and omens; and on her body being changed into earth, and the grass as natural growing out of it, whatever beasts happening to be in that place fed on it exhibited to men an accurate knowledge of futurity by their entrails. He thinks also, that the face seen in the moon is her soul.” (3)

Pausanias speaks of a number of Sibyls, not only the Delphic one, who is more ancient than the Pythia, but also the Sibyls of Samos and of Cumae. He describes the tomb of the former in this way:

“Near her tomb is a square Hermes in stone, and on the left is water running into a conduit, and some statues of the Nymphs.”

To summarize, it seems that Sibyls share a profound connection with the earth and its foundational bedrock. They speak to us from the cradle of civilization, which is Africa, or from Delphi , which was believed to be the navel of the world. Their origin connects them with the Nymphs and with Poseidon. It also seems that there is a strong connection between the Sibyls and Hermes. The famous floor mosaic in the Cathedral of Siena depicts Hermes Trismegistus and ten panels depicting Sibyls. But most importantly, their prophetic gift seems to come directly from the earth’s womb, the domain of the ancient mother goddess:

“Numinous sites of the preorganic life, which were experienced in participation mystique with the Great Mother, are mountain, cave, stone, pillar, and rock – including the childbearing rock – as throne, seat, dwelling place, and incarnation of the Great Mother. … It is no accident that stones are among the oldest symbol of the Great Mother Goddess, from Cybele and the Stone of Pessinus (moved to Rome) to the Islamic Kaaba and the stone of the temple in Jerusalem, not to mention the omphaloi, the navel stones, which we find in so many parts of the world.” (4)

Entrance to the Cave of the Sibyls at Cumae

Lactantius, an early Christian author, spoke of ten Sibyls, citing the Roman scholar Varro as his source. The same Varro, according to Lactantius,was the source of the most famous story associated with the Sibyl of Cumae. The story of Tarquinius and the Sibyl of Cumae is intertwined with the founding myth of Rome and the acquisition of the Sibylline Books. Tarquin the Proud, the seventh and final king of Rome, was offered nine prophetic books at an extremely high price by the Sibyl of Cumae. He mocked her and refused. She proceeded to burn three of the books and offered him the remaining six at the original price. When he refused, she burnt three more. Finally, the king consulted the priests, who urged him to buy the last three books at the original price.

The Sibylline Books were kept in a consecrated chamber beneath the temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill. They were solely advised in times of danger; not for prophecy but for advice how to proceed to remedy the situation. They were said to contain apocalyptic visions. The prophecies would always begin in the primeval epoch, when the prophetess presumably lived. The voice of the Sibyl came “from the dawn of human history.”(5)

In the 2nd century B.C., during the Punic War the Romans consulted the books and decided to bring the image of the Magna Mater (Cybele) to Rome from her sanctuary near Mount Ida (Pessinus) to prevent the enemy from destroying the empire. The goddess arrived in Rome in an aniconic form – as a black meteoric stone, which was placed in the Temple of Victory on the Palatine. The goddess in the form of the black celestial stone became a silent icon of mystery. (6)

The Sibyl of Cumae was also a key character in The Aeneid, Virgil’s epic about Aeneas, a Trojan hero, and his journey from the ruins of Troy to Italy, where he is destined to found the city that will become Rome. In book six of the epic, Aeneas sails to Cumae in Italy, to meet the Sibyl, who will be his guide in his descent to the underworld. Crucially, the Sibyl of Cumae expresses her prophetic vision in writing, which is a new development since the times of ancient Greece, when prophecies were oral:

“Once ashore, when you reach the city of Cumae
and Avernus’ haunted lakes and murmuring forests,
there you will see the prophetess in her frenzy,
chanting deep in her rocky cavern, charting the Fates,
committing her vision to words, to signs on leaves.
Whatever verses the seer writes down on leaves
she puts in order, sealed in her cave, left behind.
There they stay, motionless, never slip from sequence.
But the leaves are light—if the door turns on its hinge,
the slightest breath of air will scatter them all about
and she never cares to retrieve them, flitting through her cave,
or restore them to order, join them as verses with a vision.” (7)

But she also speaks, inspired by the divine presence of Apollo:

“Now carved out of the rocky flanks of Cumae
lies an enormous cavern pierced by a hundred tunnels,
a hundred mouths with as many voices rushing out,
the Sibyl’s rapt replies. They had just gained
the sacred sill when the virgin cries aloud:
“Now is the time to ask your fate to speak!
The god, look, the god!”
So she cries before
the entrance—suddenly all her features, all
her color changes, her braided hair flies loose
and her breast heaves, her heart bursts with frenzy,
she seems to rise in height, the ring of her voice no longer
human—the breath, the power of god comes closer, closer.” (8)

Virgil says that Sibyl was “breathed upon” Apollo, which means inspired by him, but not completely possessed, unlike the Delphic Pythia, who breathed in the fumes of the earth and prophesied in frenzy. (9) Parke described the Sibyls as clairvoyants and not mediums (10). The latter term could be applied to the Delphic Pythia. And yet I wonder if we should draw such clear-cut distinctions. When Sibyl of Cumae finishes delivering her prophecy to Aeneas, she, as Virgil puts it “says no more but
into the yawning cave she flings herself, possessed.” [my emphasis] Isn’t mediumship a form of possession? I would rather see Roman Sibyls as the sisters of ancient Greek Sibyls. The oral prophecy naturally evolved into the written one, but the roots of both are the same: the maternal caves of the mother goddess and her snakelike wisdom.

The exact contents of the Sibylline Books and their ultimate fate are uncertain. According to historical accounts, the original collection of books was destroyed in a fire during the sack of Rome by the Gauls in 390 BCE. Christians and Jews, inspired by Gnosticism, wanted to rewrite the lost books, which led to the creation of the Sibylline Oracles. The Christians wanted to convey that the ancient Sibyls had foretold the coming of the Messiah. In medieval times the Sibyls were portrayed as prophetesses of Christ. The Holy Chapel of the Black Madonna of Loreto showcases the statues of the Sibyls, notably this beautiful sixteenth-century sculpture of the Cumaean Sibyl by Giovanni Battista della Porta.

The Song of the Sibyl has been performed in Catalan churches since medieval times, always on Christmas Eve. I loved the Dead Can Dance version of that song from their album Aion.

Notes:

(1) Elsner, John (1992). “Pausanias: a Greek pilgrim in the Roman world”. Past and Present. 135 (1): 3–29. https://paul-in-athens.nes.lsa.umich.edu/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/Elser-1992-22Pausanias-A-Greek-Pilgrim-in-the-Roman-World22.pdf

(2) https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/68680/pg68680-images.html

(3) https://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/clement-stromata-book1.html

(4) Erich Neumann, The Great Mother

(5) H.W Parke, Sybils and Sybilline Prophecy in Classical Antiquity

(6) Lynn E. Roller, In Search of God the Mother: The Cult of Anatolian Cybele 

(7) Virgil, The Aeneid, translated by Robert Fagles

(8) Ibid.

(9) https://digitalcommons.denison.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1039&context=ephemeris

(10) H.W Parke, Sybils and Sybilline Prophecy in Classical Antiquity

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Sedna

The Inuit peoples have a profound connection to the Arctic as their ancestral homeland. Across the Arctic, one deity stands out as an all-powerful goddess of the sea and the underworld. Her name is Sedna. The name itself is an etymological mystery: some scholars refer to her as She Down There (1), others understand her name as “the one who is before,” i.e. the primordial goddess (2). Her myth is as chilling as the icy waters of the northern ocean.

Sculpture of Sedna by Nuvualiak Alariak

Among many versions of the story, the one that appealed to me the most was retold by Andy Gurevich, who adapted it from Franz Boas, a nineteenth-century pioneer of anthropology. Sedna was a beautiful maiden, who did not want to marry. Yet eventually, she did marry a young suitor, who, however, turned out to be an evil bird-man. He had promised to look after her, but instead, he made her life utter misery. When her father found out about this, he killed the bird-man and took the daughter back home in his kayak. When Sedna and her father were crossing the rough sea, the other evil bird-men pursued them, trying to capsize the boat. In order to appease the angry spirits, the father threw Sedna overboard. He prevented her from climbing back into the kayak by cutting off her fingers with a knife. Her chopped off fingers turned into sea creatures such as whales, seals and fish. (3)

It is at this point that the myth usually ends. Sedna transforms into a powerful sea goddess. Subsequently, similarly to the Greek Demeter, when she is angry, she withholds the sea creatures, which means that the hunters come home empty handed. The starving community needs to send a shaman to appease her by combing her entangled hair.

Yet Gurevich continues the story. After the bird-men fly away, the father helps the daughter climb back into the kayak. Together they return to the village. But Sedna is full of resentment towards her father. When he falls asleep, she sends her dogs to devour her father’s hands and feet:

“Her father awakened in agony and hurled a curse upon himself, his daughter, and her dogs. To his surprise, the earth began to rumble with a low roar. And as it rumbled, it began to shake. At first it shook so that one might hardly feel it. But then it shook more and more violently. Suddenly, the earth gave way beneath their home, engulfing daughter, father, dogs, and tent. Down, down, down they fell into the land of Adlivun, the Underworld. There, Sedna became its ruler and the supreme power in the universe.” (4)

It is fascinating that the central deity in the Inuit myth is a mother goddess, not a sky god. I suspect this can be attributed to the sheer nature of Arctic life and its constant threats to survival. Sedna embodies the dual nature of the forces of nature—bestowing life and taking it away. It is a bloody creation myth that vividly portrays the fine line between life and death at the very origin of life. The motives of mutilation and dismemberment play a crucial role in the story. Like Osiris or Dionysus, Sedna is also mutilated. Yet unlike the masculine gods, who symbolically stand for unity, Sedna’s body is not restored to wholeness. She remains a creature of the underworld but also rules the multiplicity of life forms and also their imperfections, which sprang from the original primordial unity.

In his Dictionary of Symbols, Jean Chevalier points out that God delights in odd numbers, while our human civilization relies on even numbers and sees any kind of mutilation, be it mental or physical, as a disqualification. Chevalier says:

“The deformed, limbless and handicapped have this in common that they are marginalized by human or ‘daylight’ society, since their ‘evenness’ is affected, and must perforce now belong to the other order, that of darkness, be it celestial or infernal, divine or satanic.”

By virtue of synchronicity, I have just finished reading an extraordinary Polish novel by Joanna Bator. I have read it in my native Polish but now it has also become very successful in Germany and in Switzerland. Unfortunately, it has not been translated into English yet. I realized that the novel has a lot in common with the myth of Sedna. First of all, the central characters are all women while men are described as “craters” or “empty spaces” in their lives. The book embodies the quintessential aspects of femininity as an archetype. The novel prominently features a recurring motif of dismemberment. However, this time, it’s the women who carry out the gruesome execution.

This post was sparked by my first exhibition visit this year: “Sedna – Myth and Change in the Arctic” at the North America Native Museum in Zurich. The exhibition was truly worthwhile, notably due to the abundant collection of sculptures and paintings created by artists from Canada, Greenland, and various Arctic regions. Below you will find a selection of the exhibits with a commentary from the brochure, which accompanied the exhibition. The exhibition segment that focused on the forced Christianization and assimilation of the Inuit resonated deeply with me. Sedna’s story might parallel the sense of betrayal or loss experienced by some Inuit communities as their traditional beliefs and practices were marginalized or suppressed due to the imposition of Christianity. I was especially moved by this little sculpture:

Manhole Hunter; Jesse Tungilik; 2012

It shows a homeless Inuit living in Canada, sitting on a slab of “concrete ice.” He looks hopelessly into a manhole.

Below are some more photos I took at the exhibition.

Sedna Hunting; Bobby Eetuk; 2000

Sedna; Bart Hanna Kappianaq; 2015 (the horn is supposed to represent “Sila” – the all-encompassing force and the breath of life

Comparing Braids; Kenojuak Ashevak;
1993: the sea goddess Sedna
compares her braids to those of the
human Sedna

Sedna Whispers; Ningiukulu Teevee
(Ningeokuluk); 2008 Sedna whispers something in the ear
of the woman with the traditional
facial tattoos. The most important
tunniit (tattoos) of a woman are those
on her face and hands. … The first tunniit, usually
on the chin, shows that the girl has
the necessary skills to take an active
role in the community and bear
responsibility.

Notes:

(1) https://mhcc.pressbooks.pub/app/uploads/sites/28/2021/02/ENG250_InuitMyth_History_Culture.pdf

(2) Wardle, H. Newell (1900). “The Sedna Cycle: A Study in Myth Evolution”.  American Anthropologist. American Anthropological Association. 2 (3): 568–580. doi:10.1525/aa.1900.2.3.02a00100. JSTOR 658969

(3) https://mhcc.pressbooks.pub/app/uploads/sites/28/2021/02/ENG250_Sedna_Myth.pdf

(4) Ibid.

An interesting take on Sedna from the astrological perspective:

https://www.astro.com/astrology/aa_article190401_e.htm

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Antoni Gaudí and His Sagrada Família

Before the 30-year-old Antoni Gaudí designed the Nativity Facade of the Sagrada Família, he underwent a strict twenty-day fast that left him emaciated. The full name of the Basilica is the Expiatory Temple of the Holy Family. Its foundation stone was laid on 19 March 1882, conceived as “a way of repairing the sins of mankind.” (1) This grand basilica stood as Gaudí’s greatest and final masterpiece, upon which he diligently worked until his tragic death at the age of 73, resulting from being struck by a tram. His devotion to his craft was so profound that “God’s Architect,” as he was then known, had been neglecting his personal appearance. Mistaken for a beggar due to his disheveled state, he received scant assistance in the hospital and passed away just two days later. Today, in our hurried consumption of art, we often fail to mirror the fervor and devotion displayed by the artists themselves.

People flock here in thousands and are all struck by the bizarre intensity and profusion of Sagrada Família:

“Geometrical symbols, animals and plants, figures in relief or in sculpture – all of these form part of a vertiginous panorama that passes before the astonished gaze of anyone who approaches this complete edifice…” (2)

While trying to take in as much as I can, I was pondering on the chief difference between the Protestant and the Catholic approach to sacral art. In summary, Catholic churches generally incorporate a wide array of icons, religious symbols, and ornate decorations to create a visually rich and spiritually meaningful environment. In contrast, Evangelical (Protestant) churches tend to have a simpler aesthetic, often with minimal use of icons and symbols, placing more emphasis on the word of the scripture and its teachings. Martin Luther sought to ban “visually seductive” and “emotionally charged” images from the House of God. (3) As the fervor of Reformation wreaked havoc in Europe, image-breakers (iconoclasts) “burned, toppled, beheaded and hanged” religious artwork with utter scorn and delight. (4) By doing that, the followers of Luther rejected the suffering flesh of Christ and martyrs. Not only were the images rejected, also the music was treated with suspicion. As a result, faith became more spiritual but less incarnate:

“In essence … the Word is made Flesh – becomes reversed and the Flesh is made Word.” (5)

Gaudí, in stark contrast, takes the Catholic love of the image to the extreme. The Modernist style, (known as Art Nouveau in France and Sezession in Austria) which he represented, was already the antithesis of austerity, but he elevated it to an unprecedented level.

The main source of inspiration for the representatives of the Modernist movement was nature:

“[They took] ideas from plants (flowers and shoots), animals (insects and birds) and the waves of the ocean. … The predominant idea was that of eternal movement, brevity, in relation to … beauty and death. Floral and plant decorations signifying the ephemeral or the fertile were frequently used in buildings and objects.” (6)

Gaudí understood true originality as “getting close to the origin,” to the source of creation. He strove to imitate forms found in nature, for example the hexagon, the spiral and many others. He thus elucidated the motto of his art:

“The great open book one must strive to read is the book of nature; all the other books are extracted from it and contain man’s erroneous interpretations.” (7)

He called his architecture organic; I would describe it as embodied. His architectural projects appear to be alive and moving. I am reminded of Casa Battló, a renowned building located in the heart of Barcelona. Casa Batlló’s facade is the most famous aspect of the building. It is adorned with a mosaic of colorful ceramic tiles and undulating forms resembling scales. The facade is “suggestive of an aquatic landscape like that of a river embedded with stones worn away by water.” (8) The balconies resemble masks or skulls, and the roof depicts the back of a dragon, covered in iridescent tiles that change color as the sunlight hits them. As usually in Gaudí’s work, organic elements are permeated with myth and fantasy.

In his customary fashion, Gaudí transcended the sources of his inspiration, such as Modernism and Gothic architecture, ingeniously reinterpreting and creatively reshaping and enhancing them within his work. He painstakingly imitated the geometry found in nature: the spiral, the hexagon, the undulating forms of the water, the tree trunk. He envisioned the interior of Sagrada Família as the forest of columns. The Sagrada Família’s roof, adorned with skylights softly filtering daylight, evokes the intricate foliage of a forest canopy. His signature column “generated a double helicoidal movement, the natural movement of growth in plants.” (9)

https://sagradafamilia.org/en/the-booklets

La Sagrada Família is to this day unfinished: it remains a work in progress. Gaudí was aware that such a grand project must be a collective effort of many generations. The extraordinary Nativity Facade was fully designed by Gaudí and finished in his lifetime. The sculptures illustrating the birth and infancy of Jesus are surrounded by the local flora and fauna depicted in stone. To be exact, thirty-one botanical species and sixty-eight different types of animals are depicted. The gargoyles were given the shape of Catalonian amphibians and reptiles. The pinnacles of the apse reproduce enlarged flower buds. (10)

https://sagradafamilia.org/en/the-booklets

Gaudí had worthy successors. Although a lot of the master’s original designs got lost in the chaos of the Spanish Civil War, his legacy was continued by the likes of Josep Maria Subirachs, who designed the Passion Facade. Admittedly, it stands in stark contrast to the profuse Nativity Facade, yet its stark geometry and bone-like aesthetic was extremely striking to me.

Passion Facade

But what I found truly stunning were the doors to the Nativity Facade, which were designed by a Japanese sculptor Etsuro Sotoo. Sotoo was originally drawn to Barcelona and the works of Gaudí in the late 1970s. He embraced Gaudí’s unique style and vision, eventually converting to Catholicism and dedicating himself entirely to following in Gaudí ‘s footsteps. I believe the doors he designed are a true expression of Gaudí ‘s spirit. The doors, decorated with plants, insects and small animals, were inaugurated in 2015. During my visit this year, I found myself captivated by them; they made me think of a door to a secret garden.

Doors to Nativity Facade

In the age of overtourism, it is an arduous task to immerse yourself into the beauty of famous landmarks. A brilliant entry point to acquaint oneself with the work of Antoni Gaudí is a 1984 documentary directed by Hiroshi Teshigara, who chose to show Gaudí’s masterpieces with sublime music and sparing commentary.

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Notes:

(1) Artigas, Isabel. Gaudí: Complete Works. 2007. Taschen.

(2) Sola-Morales, Ignasi de. Gaudi. Rizzoli. 1984. New York.

(3)Koerner, Joseph Leo. The Reformation of the Image. University of Chicago Press, 2004.

(4) Ibid.

(5) McGilchrist, Ian. The Master and His Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World. Yale University Press, 2012.

(6) Artigas, Isabel. Gaudí: Complete Works. 2007. Taschen.

(7) Angles, Jordi Cusso. Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia: A Monument to Nature. Milenio Publicaciones S.L., 2010.

(8) Artigas, Isabel. Gaudí: Complete Works. 2007. Taschen.

(9) Angles, Jordi Cusso. Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia: A Monument to Nature. Milenio Publicaciones S.L., 2010.

(10) Ibid.

Montserrat and Its Holy Grail

Throughout the world, sacred sites intricately weave together historical facts and legendary tales, rendering the task of distinguishing between the two an impossible challenge. Located approximately fifty kilometers from Barcelona, the Montserrat Monastery derives its name from the mountain upon which it stands. The Catalan name, signifying “serrated mountain,” aptly describes the striking limestone rock formations found at Montserrat, emphasizing their remarkable appearance. The veneration of ancient mother goddesses often centered around mountainous landscapes, with Cybele, the Anatolian mother goddess, standing as a prominent example of this mountain-centric worship. Montserrat as well holds significance as an ancient site bearing remnants of age-old pagan worship practices. The Romans erected a Venus temple there. Today it is one of the most prominent Marian devotion sites in the world. It is overrun by two million tourists a year and although I visited it in the off-season, it was still overwhelmingly crowded.

The stylized “M” in the logo of Montserrat

Each pilgrim has a chance to come face to face with the holy image of the Black Madonna of Montserrat, granted they possess the patience to endure a lengthy queue. However, there’s a brief yet intimate moment when visitors can stand in close proximity to the statue, albeit behind glass. The globe held by the figure, however, remains exposed, inviting everyone to touch it.

According to the legend, around the 9th century, local shepherds spotted a bright light coming from a cave in the Montserrat mountains. There they found a statue of the Virgin Mary and Child. Upon attempting to move the statue to a nearby village, the statue mysteriously became incredibly heavy, which they interpreted as a sign that the statue was meant to stay where it was discovered. A local bishop, upon hearing this story, declared the area a sacred site and had a chapel built around the statue to honor the Virgin Mary. The Santa Cova (the holy cave) is also open to visitors.

Santa Cova, photo found on https://www.justenoughfocus.com/santa-cova-de-montserrat/

La Moreneta (“the little black one”) is a Romanesque statue and is dated to the same time as the Black Madonnas of Einsiedeln, Chartres and Mont-St-Michel (1). But according to another legend, the statue was carved by St Luke in Jerusalem with Virgin Mary sitting as his model. (2) Ean Begg posits that Montserrat, alongside Glastonbury and Montsegur, ranks among the top three sanctuaries speculated as potential hiding places for the Holy Grail.

What particularly struck me when I finally stood at her throne, was her serene aura and her closed eyes. No photograph can come close to the experience. My thoughts drifted to the Sibyls telling prophecies in trance, the Buddha in tranquil samadhi, and the Gioconda with her inscrutable smile.

The whimsically shaped peaks that surround her monastery have been given striking names; there is the Mummy, the Elephant’s Trunk, the Dead Man’s Head, the Salamander, the Nun, to name just a few. Abundant in diverse flora and fauna, these mountains harbor numerous caves and shelter various hermitages, including Santa Magdalena, San Joan, and numerous others. Enduring sieges, plunderings, and even a great fire, both the sacred statue and the holy mountain that shelters it have stood for eternity. There is an inexplicable sense of solace and reassurance in being able to stand face to face with these two symbols of timelessness: the Magna Mater and her Holy Mountain.

Andre Masson, “Montserrat”

Notes:

(1) Ian Begg, The Cult of the Black Virgin

(2) Annine van der Meer, The Black Madonna: From Primal to Final Times

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Hekate: World Soul, Cosmic Bridge and a Liminal Goddess

“Ever since the ‘Timaeus’ it has been repeatedly stated that the soul is a sphere. As the anima mundi, the soul revolves with the world wheel, whose hub is the Pole. … The anima mundi is really the motor of the heavens.”

Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Volume 9 (Part 2): Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self, par. 212

She has been called “a murky goddess on the fringes of Greek religion” (1) whose origins predate Ancient Greece and lead to the Karian people in Asia Minor (modern Turkey). There she had a sanctuary in Lagina as the great goddess, who brought prosperity to the people and in their name maintained close relations with “the Karian equivalent of Zeus.” (2) Similarly, her worship in Ancient Greece also put great emphasis on her special relationship with the ruler of Mount Olympus. Hesiod in Theogony portrayed her as an all-powerful goddess. She was a Titaness, not an Olympian, and yet, although Zeus had overthrown her race, he chose to grant her a special position; all that while simultaneously reducing the power of all the other goddesses. Zeus gave Hekate a share of earth, sea and heaven, and made her “kourothropos (nursemaid) to all living creatures. (3) If she is correctly invoked, says Hesiod, she will bring success to all kinds of people, notably herdsmen, fishermen, kings, politicians, and so forth. To attain these objectives, she must collaborate with fellow deities and serve as a mediator between the divine realm and humanity. The invocations of Hekate provide a glimpse into her eventual pivotal role in the realm of magic, which would later become a prominent facet of her character. Her indispensable function as an intermediary stands at the core of her archetypal significance. Already at the dawn of her worship, as the goddess ruling over all the worldly spheres, she was crucially seen as the deity who “can initiate change throughout the entire world.” (4)

Hekate played a crucial role in the myth of the abduction of Persephone. In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, “Hekate of the glossy veil heard from her cave” how Persephone was abducted by Hades. Helios, the Sun god, witnessed the event, while Hekate, in contrast, only heard it. This forges a connection between her and the realm of the unconscious, symbolizing her affinity with the Moon—the celestial counterpart to the Sun, both serving as witnesses to the world’s occurrences.(5) Later Hekate escorted Persephone in her annual journey to the Underworld, where Persephone would reaffirm her marital bond with Hades. The portrayal of Hekate residing within a cave already signified her divine presence that bridged the realms of the earth and the underworld. The Homeric Hymn to Demeter vividly illustrates Hecate’s distinctive attribute as she emerged in the dead of night, bearing two flickering torches to console the distraught Demeter.

Eduardo Chicharro y Agüera, “Demeter, Kore and Hekate”

Hekate was considered apotropaic, meaning she had the power to ward off or avert evil and negative forces. This association was due to her role as a protective goddess, especially at liminal places and times, such as crossroads, doorways, and the dark of the moon. She was worshiped as the goddess of birth and death, which defined the most significant and perilous transitions of all. But her shrines (hekateia) also symbolically protected the mundane thresholds of numerous Athenian households. At the entrance to Acropolis stood a tripleformed Hekate sculpted by Alkamenes. She was believed to guard crossroads, which were considered vulnerable points where malevolent spirits could lurk. Hekate’s companions were “restless souls denied entrance to Hades.” (6) At the time of the new moon Hekate’s “suppers” were offered at the crossroads to appease the spirits and ensure a harmonious transition across this temporal boundary. Hekate protected from the dissolution, which is symbolically associated with all kinds of liminal realms:

“Every limen–the threshold, the crossroads, the gate, the frontier–is by definition detached from its surroundings. … the boundary itself must be regarded as a sort of permanent, chaotic Limbo; associated with neither of the two extremes it divided …” (7)

“It was in the interstices between safely defined territories (home, sanctuary, city) and times (new and old month) that dangerous spirits were emboldened to attack the unwary.” (8)

As a holder of the keys – another of her significant attributes – Hekate ensured that the boundaries within the fabric of the Cosmos were closed. In other words, she controlled Chaos by establishing clear limits. She was the one who had to be approached to open the gates to the Underworld. In this role she became associated with witchcraft and magic; she was especially worshiped by the Thessalian witches. When Aeneas, the legendary hero and central character in Virgil’s epic poem The Aeneid, embarked on his journey to the Underworld, he asked a Sybil for help. Vergil’s Sybil, seeking access to Hades, called on and sacrificed to Hekate – “mighty in Heaven and Hell.” It is Hekate who opened the passageway, “as the earth splits open, dogs bark, and the goddess is felt to be near.” (9)

Luc Olivier-Merson, Projet d’illustration pour Macbeth – Hécate et les trois sorcières

Ever a mediator poised between different spheres and worlds, in Hellenistic times Hekate became associated more closely with the Moon, especially in the Middle Platonic doctrine represented by Plutarch and Apuleius. They believed the Moon to be “a liminal point and a transmissive or mediating entity between the Sensible and Intelligible Worlds.” (10) By way of explaining, the intelligible world, in Neoplatonism, represents a non-physical realm of unchanging and timeless universal truths or forms that underlie and give rise to the sensory and material world. The Moon was imagined to be the sphere of the daimons and Hekate was both their mistress, and the Mistress of the Moon. According to Porphyry, daimons held various functions, including maintaining cosmic order, ensuring the harmony of the cosmos, and transmitting divine influences to the material world. They played a role in linking the celestial spheres to the earthly realm. Hesiod described daimons as “the immortal yet not divine spirits of the golden race that watched over men.” (11) In order for a magician to obtain a daimon’s help, Hekate had to be called upon for divine assistance.

Edvard Munch, “Moonlight”

Porphyry’s writings and teachings show his engagement with and interpretation of the Chaldean Oracles. These were described as “divine revelations in hexameter verses” and “the last important sacred book of antiquity.” (12) Crucially, the Chaldean Oracles equated Hekate with the Platonic Cosmic Soul:

“Standing on the border between the intelligible and the sensible worlds, acting both as a barrier and as a link between them, we find an entity personified as Hecate … She … appears to be the channel through which influences from above are shed upon the physical world. In Fr. 30 [Fragment 30 of the Chaldean Oracles] she is described as ‘fount of founts, a womb containing all things.’” (13)

“She ensouled the cosmos and individuals, formed the connective boundary between the divine and human worlds, facilitated soul releasing communication between man and god.” (14)

According to the Oracles, the Soul becomes impregnated with the eternal divine ideas and projects them onto the material world. Hekate “conveyed Ideas and the animating liquid of the Soul across the cosmic boundary into the sensible world.” (15) The role of Hekate or the Soul is to disperse the divine messages across the visible world. The eternal Ideas are communicated via “symbola” and “sunthemata” which are imagined as divine emblems planted all across the visible universe. These emblems are living proof that there exists cosmic sympathy between the divine and human realms. Symbola could be all kinds of objects – rocks, plants and even sounds or words. In the hands of a theurgist, a spiritual and religious practitioner who aimed to establish a direct connection with the divine and achieve spiritual ascent, symbola served to invoke divine powers. All of this was achieved by Hekate’s grace.

Fernand Khnopff, “Magician”

More specifically, a theurgist would spin a magic wheel called an iynx, which was “a golden ball, formed around a sapphire with character engraved on it.” (16) The whirring sound of these iynges was emblematic of the cosmic harmony or music of the spheres, which enveloped the Soul. The theurgist was thus hoping to form a connection between a god or a daimon, to invoke a god’s epiphany or to call a god into a statue or a medium. (17) At the Apollo’s temple in Delphi iynges were visualized as “tongues of the gods.”

The Chaldean Oracles saw Hekate as a truly supreme goddess. Two fragments especially attest to that:

“Fr. 189

And she is visible on all sides and has “faces on all sides” … receiving in her womb the processions from the intelligibles … and she sends forth the channels of corporeal life and contains within herself the center of the procession of all beings.

Fr. 51

Around the hollow of her right flank a great stream of the primordially-generated Soul gushes forth in abundance, totally ensouling light, fire, ether, worlds.” (18)

But the most beautiful summary of her triple supremacy over the divine sphere of eternal ideas, the silvery lunar realm and the earthly world (including the Underworld) was expressed by Porphyry in Philosophy from Oracles:

“I come, a virgin of varied forms, wandering through the heavens, bull-faced, three-headed, ruthless, with golden arrows; chaste Phoebe bringing light to mortals, Eileithyia [goddess of childbirth and labor pains]; bearing the three synthemata of a triple nature. In the aether I appear in fiery forms and in the air I sit in a silver chariot. Earth reins in my black brood of puppies.”

Marble statuette of the goddess Hekate
Adaptation of work attributed to Alkamenes, via https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/255108

Today being the seventh night of Navratri, an annual Hindu festival dedicated to honoring the goddess Durga, which I also humbly observe. I couldn’t help but notice a distinct quality of a goddess we revere on the fourth day. Her name is Ma Kushmanda and she is said to have created the universe with her smile. One of her attributes is a spinning chakra wheel, or the cosmic wheel of time, over which she has control, signifying her role as the creator and sustainer of the universe. I could not help seeing the connection between this attribute and Hekate’s spinning iynx. Like Shakti, also Hekate represents the dynamic, creative, and powerful aspect of the universe.

Ma Kushmanda

Notes:

(1) Athanassakis, A. N., & Wolkow, B. M. (2013). The Orphic Hymns. JHU Press.

(2) Larson, J. (2007). Ancient Greek Cults: A Guide. Routledge.

(3) Roberts, E. M. (2020). Underworld Gods in Ancient Greek Religion: Death and Reciprocity. Routledge.

(4) Ibid.

(5) Athanassakis, A. N., & Wolkow, B. M. (2013). The Orphic Hymns. JHU Press.

(6) Johnston, S. I. (1990). Hekate Soteira: A Study of Hekate’s Role in the Chaldean Oracles and Related Literature. Oxford University Press.

(7) Ibid.

(8) Larson, J. (2007). Ancient Greek Cults: A Guide. Routledge.

(9) Johnston, S. I. (1990). Hekate Soteira: A Study of Hekate’s Role in the Chaldean Oracles and Related Literature. Oxford University Press.

(10) Ibid.

(11) Ibid.

(12) Stoneman, R. (2011). The Ancient Oracles: Making the Gods Speak. Yale University Press.

(13) Dillon, J. M. (1996). The Middle Platonists: A Study of Platonism, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220. Duckworth.

(14) Johnston, S. I. (1990). Hekate Soteira: A Study of Hekate’s Role in the Chaldean Oracles and Related Literature. Oxford University Press.

(15) Ibid.

(16) Ibid.

(17) Ibid.

(18) Majercik, R. (1989). The Chaldean Oracles: Text, Translation, and Commentary. E.J. Brill.

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The Veil of Isis and the Black Madonna: the Mysteries of Nature

I. “The mother is the first world of the child and the last world of the adult. We are all wrapped as her children in the mantle of this great Isis.”

Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Volume 9 (Part 1): Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious; par. 175

II. “Principle and origin of all things

Ancient mother of the world,

Night, darkness and silence.”

Mesomedes

Odilon Redon, “I am still the great Isis! None has yet lifted my veil! My fruit is the Sun!”

I have recently come across a fascinating article in The Atlantic. It was written by Katharine Hillard and contains a number of claims about the symbolic meaning of the Black Madonna. I have grappled with the same question for a number of years now and have myself written a few blog posts on the subject, most recently here: https://symbolreader.net/2021/12/30/black-madonna-an-icon-of-mystery/

The assertion that the Black Madonna’s cult has pagan origins was familiar to me. But a few thoughts on why the ancient gods and goddesses were black did give me pause. She writes:

“We find in all the histories of mythology many instances where both gods and goddesses are represented as black. Pausanias, who mentions two statues of the black Venus, says that the oldest statue of Ceres among the Phigalenses was black.(1) Now Ceres, like Juno and Minerva, like the Hindu Maia and the Egyptian Isis, stood for the maternal principle in the universe, and all these goddesses have been thus represented.”

Regrettably, the article lacks references, rendering certain information challenging to verify. Intuitively, I appreciate the correlation she draws between the interchangeable use of dark blue and black in ancient depictions of gods and goddesses. I am persuaded by the symbolic connection she postulates between the fecund darkness of the night, the life-giving depths of the ocean, and the rich blackness of the soil:

“The basic idea of the productive power of Nature, giving birth to all things without change in herself, underlies every conception of the Virgin Mother; and behind the earthly form of Mary, the mother of Jesus, we can trace the grand, mysterious outlines of the Universal Mother, that Darkness from whence cometh the Light, that chaotic Sea that produceth all things. Water, as referred to in such allegories, is, of course, something quite different from the element we know, and represents that primordial matter whose protean shape so constantly eludes the grasp of science.”

But perhaps the most inspiring part comes towards the end of the article:

“In the mystic philosophies, darkness was also used as the symbol of the Infinite Unknown. Light, as we recognize it, being material, could be considered only as the shadow of the divine, the antithesis of spirit, and the Self-Existent, or Light Spiritual, was therefore worshiped as darkness.”

This is a very inspiring fragment, which reminds me of Meister Eckhart, who said that the divine essence is shrouded in darkness. This also ties in with the idea of “deus absconditus” – the hidden, unreachable God, the impenetrable Mystery above all mysteries. The Black Madonna remains hidden, mysterious, and beyond the grasp of the intellect. Like the Kabbalistic Ein sof, which refers to the infinite, unbounded, and unknowable aspect of the divine, she is also endless and beyond understanding. She is the source of all existence yet she remains hidden behind the veil. Hers is the hidden light, reminiscent of what the alchemists called lumen naturae (the light of nature).

Odilon Redon’s print, which I included at the top of this post, draws its inspiration from Plutarch’s treatise, “On Isis and Osiris.” In this work, Plutarch recounts a temple in Sais where a statue of Isis stood, adorned with an inscription that read, “I am all that has been and is and ever shall be, and no mortal has ever lifted my veil.” Interestingly, some three centuries later, Proclus appended another line to this enigmatic inscription, “The fruit of my womb was the sun.” The inscription essentially attributes the birth or creation of the sun to Isis, symbolizing her as a divine and creative force in the universe; the invisible (veiled) source from which emanates the material world.

Much like darkness, the veil also functions symbolically as a means of concealing. The French philosopher Pierre Hadot devoted an entire book to the symbolism of the Veil of Isis and to a single verse from Heraclitus of Ephesus: “Nature loves to hide.” (2) Heraclitus was a devotee of Artemis of Ephesus, who in later times was frequently merged with the goddess Isis. He reverently placed his writings within the sacred confines of the Temple of Artemis in Ephesus.

Artemis of Ephesus from Naples National Archaeological Museum

Hadot weaves the symbolism of Nature’s tendency to hide on 300 pages of his book. I could not help but ponder that much of his musings could be linked to the boundless symbolic depth of the Black Madonna.

Firstly, Hodot observes that concealment bears a profound connection to mortality, with the earth shrouding the body and a veil covering the head of the deceased. This resonated with the way Stoic philosophers saw nature: as the mother goddess of all things, who brings both life and death.

Seneca, a Stoic philosopher of Ancient Rome, wrote, “What the principle is without which nothing exists we cannot know.” This sentiment underscores the profound humility that characterized Stoic philosophers in their contemplation of the mysteries of existence. Hadot expands on two ways of approaching Nature’s secrets. The Promethean way is bold; it tears the secrets from Nature’s bosom. This is predominantly our modern way. Conversely, the Orphic way is inspired by reverence towards the mystery; it approaches Natures’ secrets through song, art and poetry. The Age of Enlightenment and the era of industrialization ushered in a perspective that sought to penetrate the veil of nature, perceiving it solely as inert, non-sacred “matter” to be exploited. The connection of the word matter with mother was certainly lost on them.

Antonio Canova, “Orpheus”

Although a son of Enlightenment, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe had some critical views of certain aspects of Enlightenment thought, particularly its materialistic and reductionist tendencies. Goethe spoke of the silent, symbolic language of nature, which he juxtaposed with the useless and idle chatter of human discourse. Says Hadot:

“Goethe affirms that the symbol … insofar as it is a form and an image, lets us understand a multitude of meanings, but itself remains ultimately inexpressible. It is ‘the revelation, alive and immediate, of the unexplorable.'”

This precisely captures my sensation when confronting the enigmatic depths of the Black Madonna. The profound significance is readily intuited, radiating forth, yet it defies verbal articulation. It is a symbolic, silent presence.

Hodot proceeds to discuss Goethe’s poem “Great is the Diana of the Ephesians,” which is a rejection of the “formless” God of Christianity and the embrace of the full-bodied goddess of Ephesus. For Goethe, says Hadot, “God is inseparable from Nature; that is, he is inseparable from the forms both visible and mysterious, that God/Nature constantly engenders.” Similarly, from my perspective, the symbolism of the Black Madonna rests firmly on the acceptance of the body and the physical world as sacred and divine.

Athanasius Kircher, a seventeenth-century German Jesuit scholar and polymath, interpreted the veil of Isis as a symbol of the secrets of Nature. The secrets that hide behind the veil (or behind the dark countenance of the Black Madonna) were described by Goethe as “Ungeheures,” which, as Hadot explains, is “an ambiguous term that designates as much what is prodigious as what is monstrous.” Goethe likened nature to the Sphinx while Kant wrote that “we can approach nature only with a sacred shudder.” The initiation bestowed by the Black Madonna is a similar mixture of trembling and awe.

Edwin Austin Abbey, “The Three Marys”

The final part of Hadot’s book draws on the philosophy of Nietzsche, for whom Nature contains “the knowledge of depth”, and “a transcendence of individuality.” Hadot summarizes further:

“Man must therefore abandon his partial and partisan viewpoint in order to raise himself up to a cosmic perspective, or to the viewpoint of universal nature, in order to be able to say an ecstatic yes to nature in its totality, in the indissoluble union of truth and appearance. This is Dionysian ecstasy.”

It is a simultaneously simple yet profoundly unsettling notion: as integral parts of Nature, as bodies encompassed within the body of the Dark, Earthly Goddess of Nature, we bear the same unfathomable and disquieting secrets within us. Nietzsche, in his quest to transcend individual perspective, encountered madness. There is a peril associated with attempting to unveil the mysteries hidden behind the veil of Isis, as even Orpheus discovered at a cost. The captivating face of the Black Madonna stands as the guardian of this eternal paradox.

Odilon Redon, “The Boat (Virgin with Corona”)

Notes:

(1) She refers here to the inhabitants of Phigaleia; perhaps a correct term would be “Phigal(e)ians”; compare Pausanias’ Description of Greece https://www.gutenberg.org/files/68680/68680-h/68680-h.htm. In Arcadia Demeter had the epithet Melaina – Black. In that connection Pausanius mentions a cave sacred to Demeter:

“The second mountain, Mount Elaius, is some thirty stades away from Phigalia, and has a cave sacred to Demeter surnamed Black.” 

https://www.theoi.com/Text/Pausanias8C.html

(2) Pierre Hadot, The Veil of Isis: An Essay on the History of the Idea of Nature, translated by Michael Chase (Cambridge, MA & London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2006)

The Symbolic Power of Mushrooms

The Symbolic Power of Mushrooms

In the collective consciousness since the recent pandemic, two symbols of self-destruction have emerged, both connected to mushrooms. In the HBO series “The Last of Us,” mind-manipulating mushrooms known as ophiocordyceps possess the minds of their human hosts. In the biopic “Oppenheimer,” a mushroom cloud ominously represents humanity’s capacity for self-destruction. These archetypes emerging at this moment in history are not accidental, as C.G. Jung extensively wrote about the parallels between the human psyche and its manifestations in the world.

Jung compared psychology to modern physics by stating that “they both approach the hitherto ‘transcendental’ region of the Invisible and Intangible.” (1) Both encounter the ultimate energies of creation and its shadow – destruction. As he wrote,

“From this it is clear that the psyche not only disturbs the natural order but, if it loses its balance, actually destroys its own creation. Therefore the careful consideration of psychic factors is of importance in restoring not merely the individual’s balance, but society’s as well, otherwise the destructive tendencies easily gain the upper hand. In the same way that the atom-bomb is an unparalleled means of physical mass destruction, so the misguided development of the soul must lead to psychic mass destruction.” (2)

Jung warned against the “godlike” power falling into the human hands. In another letter he wrote,

“Man confuses himself with God, is identical with the demiurge and begins to usurp cosmic powers of destruction, i.e., to arrange a second Deluge.” (3)

The kernel of the Jungian wisdom is that we all partake in the collective psyche’s destructive and creative aspects. “None of us stands outside humanity’s black collective shadow,” said Jung (4) But the human tendency is to drive evil far away from us – like in the Old Testament, in which the scapegoat was carried into the wilderness. Similarly, in “Oppenheimer”, Los Alamos serves as the wilderness, where the “evil” atomic bomb is developed. And like the proverbial scapegoat, Robert Oppenheimer is the one who is made to carry the shadow of the collective psyche.

Jung often referenced a line from the Romantic poet Hölderlin, “Wherein lies the danger, grows also the saving power.” This idea is reflected in the constellating nature of all archetypes, encompassing both light and shadow aspects. Much like mushrooms, archetypes emerge into consciousness unexpectedly, but they are, in reality, manifestations of what already thrives in invisible dimensions(5) This raises the question: how can we interpret the messages conveyed by mushrooms in popular culture?

Like the unconscious psyche, mushrooms are the most mysterious of all species. Merlin Sheldrake has written a fascinating book about them, in which he reveal that these organisms, forming a separate kingdom, stand apart from both animals and plants Over ninety per cent of all fungi remains undocumented. Mushrooms form our “biological dark matter” or “dark life.”(6) Despite their enigmatic nature, mushrooms hold valuable insights into understanding ourselves and our planet. Much like the archetypes of the collective unconscious, mushrooms possess a dual nature, being both nourishing and deadly.

Jamie Wyeth, “Mushroom Picker”

Sheldrake emphasizes that there would be no plant life without fungi. This is because the roots of more than ninety percent of plants are linked with a species of mycorrhizal (mykes – fungus, rhiza – root) fungi. The same fungi ensure communication between plants, the process which has been dubbed the wood wide web. As Sheldrake puts it, “Mycelium is ecological connective tissue, the living seam by which much of the world is stitched into relation.” All that at the invisible, root level. Sadly, modern farming ignores all that swarming, entangled life and chooses to view plants as autonomous individuals. This leads to the destruction of the fungal mycelium in the soil. As Sheldrake puts it, “In viewing soils as more or less lifeless places, agricultural practices have ravaged the underground communities that sustain the life we eat.”

Mushrooms are perfect examples of collective intelligence. One famous example of slime mold intelligence is the “Tokyo railway experiment.” In 2010, scientists at the Future University Hakodate in Japan recreated the map of the Tokyo metropolitan area using oat flakes to represent cities. The slime mold Physarum polycephalum managed to recreate a replica of the Tokyo railway system within a few hours, indicating its capacity for solving complex spatial problems.

From the fungal perspective, “life is an entangled whole.” There is no centre of control; rather the whole control is dispersed and can emerge momentarily and organically, only to dissolve later and appear somewhere else, as needed.

According to Sheldrake, the lesson learned from the entanglement of plants and mushrooms is that “plants that share a network with others grow more quickly and have better survival rates compared to neighboring plants excluded from the common network.” However, that does not exclude competition for resources and destructive tendencies. It is not an Utopian vision of sharing and caring, either. The entanglement involves both light and dark aspects. It is not an accident, says Sheldrake, that biologists started to ponder the phenomenon of symbiosis and coexistence precisely when the world was torn by the Cold War. The issue of co-existence remains unresolved to this day.

Nina Tokhtaman Valetova, “Entangled Fate”

Another important lesson is about us humans. “We” are also ecosystems, who “emerge from a complex tangle of relationships only now becoming known.” Going beyond the ego can be a healing process, which has been reported in a growing number of studies related to the use of psilocybin mushrooms and LSD, also derived from a fungus. The psychedelic healing effect comes from the mushroom’s ability to induce “feelings of merging with something greater, and a reimagined sense of one’s relationship to the world.”  

Ancient cultures of Mesoamerica were aware of the power of psychedelic mushrooms. The Aztecs referred to them as “teonanácatl,” which translates to “flesh of the gods.” They believed that by consuming them they communicated with the divine by entering an altered state of consciousness. Also in Ancient Egypt mushrooms were treated as food of immortality gifted by the god Osiris.

Psilocybe Mushrooms statues (via Wikipedia – fungi in art)

I see mushrooms as symbolic expressions of the workings of the unconscious psyche. Jung extensively wrote about the divinity of the psyche, emphasizing its light and shadow aspects. While watching the movie “Oppenheimer,” a small historical fact caught my attention. During the scientists’ work on a weapon of mass destruction, an unusually high number of children were born in that isolated facility. The quote “I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds” originated from Oppenheimer’s recollection of the first successful test of the atomic bomb at the Trinity site. This quote from the Bhagavad Gita, uttered by Krishna, reveals the god in his terrifying and destructive aspect.

However, the most horrible destruction is usually followed by a period of regeneration , rebirth and renewed activity. Thus, the benevolent face of god may emerge, offering hope and the potential for transformation amidst the destructive forces in the world and its breeding ground – the psyche.

Konstantin Somov, “The Girl with Mushrooms under the Rainbow”

Notes:

(1) Letters of C.G. Jung, Volume II: 1951-1961. Letter to Benjamin Nelson, 17 June 1956. Published by Routledge.

(2) Jung, C.G. The Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Volume 8: The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche. Bollingen Series XX. Princeton University Press, 1960. par. 428

3) Letters of C.G. Jung, Volume II: 1951-1961. Letter to Jakob Amtstutz, 28 March 1953. Published by Routledge.

(4) Jung, C.G. The Undiscovered Self: With Symbols and the Interpretation of Dreams (Jung Extracts Book 31). Princeton University Press; Revised edition (January 12, 2012). p. 53

(5) The Book of Symbols: Reflections on Archetypal Images, edited by Ami Ronnberg. ARAS (Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism), New York, 2010.

(6) Sheldrake, Merlin. Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures. Random House, 2020. All subsequent facts and quotes about mushrooms come from this book.

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The Eight Mountains

This post is an attempt at a symbolic reconstruction of a movie I have seen recently. After seeing it, I was so deeply moved that I immediately rewatched it and proceeded to jot down hurriedly ten pages of notes and impressions that it spurred me to. The movie is called The Eight Mountains (2022) and was co-directed by Felix van Groeningen and Charlotte Vandermeersch. My post is going to contain a lot of details relating to the plot, so if you would like to discover “what happened” on your own, you have been warned.

This is a summary of “what the movie is about” that I found on the website of the British Film Institute:

“It’s 1984 when Pietro … first arrives in the Italian Alps for a summer holiday with his mother…. At his first meeting with Bruno, the difference between the pair is stark. Pietro is a soft-spoken 11-year-old in bright woolly jumpers and shiny hair; Bruno …, slightly older, is all wellies and cow muck. … Bruno is foul-mouthed and has to interrupt their play to milk the cows. They literally speak different languages as Bruno teaches Pietro the dialect of the village where he is the only remaining boy, everyone else fleeing in the face of an economic reality that has made rural life untenable.

Despite the idyllic setting, …, the friendship has its complications. The boys both have dysfunctional relationships with their fathers, and Pietro feels some jealousy when his parents appraise Bruno’s situation and try to take him back to Turin for schooling. When this falls through, the boys grow distant.”

This premise of the story reminded me of the friendship between the “civilized” Gilgamesh and the wild Enkidu, where Enkidu’s connection with the natural world and his more instinctual nature provide a contrasting perspective that influences Gilgamesh’s growth and development throughout the epic. When the parents want to take Bruno to the city Pietro is outraged and says: “A city will ruin a person like Bruno!” Much later, when they are both older in a moment of self-reflection Bruno describes himself as a wild man: one third man, one third beast and one third tree. Bruno is in the heart of the story: all characters define themselves in relation to him. He symbolizes the part of the soul lost or repressed in the modern world: the wildness of nature.

Enkidu, Gilgamesh’s friend. From Ur, Iraq. 2027-1763 BC. Iraq Museum

With one caveat, though. When the adult Pietro brings his city friends to the Alpine village to meet Bruno, one of the friends expresses his wonder of the unspoilt nature in the mountains. Bruno retorts: “It’s just you from the city who call it nature. It’s so abstract in your mind that even the name is abstract. Here we say woods, pastures, river, rock, path.” The groundedness of direct experience stands in start contrast to intellectual abstractions.

The mountainous regions have a true symbolic power. C.G. Jung spoke of solemnity of the mountains as a place where God’s work is done. The lush valleys stand for the horizontal dimension: this is where things are born, where flowers grow, where the rivers flow and the animals graze. As the Dalai Lama expressed it in a letter to Peter Goullart, “Soul is at home in the deep, shaded valleys.” In contrast, mountain peaks crown the vertical axis. Here the soul is drawn to the divine. As the Dalai Lama puts it, “Spirit is a land of high, white peaks and glittering jewellike lakes and flowers.” Here life is solitary. As the movie progresses, Bruno leaves his higher place more and more reluctantly. The mountain claims his soul. His roots are so strong that he cannot be moved any more.

The central metaphor of the movie is that of the eight mountains. Pietro hears this myth on his journey through Nepal. The mount Meru (or Sumeru) is the cosmic mountain, which Eliade referred to as “the earth’s navel, the point at which the Creation began.” It is the source of creation, where Brahma the Creator dwells. Located at the centre of the universe, Meru “is a vertical shaft which links macrocosm with microcosm, gods with men, timelessness with time.” (1) Meru is thus “a preeminent motif for mandala symbolism.” (2) Its centre points both upward to divinity and inward – to the individual soul. The rest of the world revolves in constant twirls but the centre is always immovable.

While Pietro travels through Nepal in a later part of the story, he gets asked by the locals if he is making the tour of the eight mountains. This is directly connected to the Nepalese legend of Eight Mother Goddesses (Ashta Matrika), who are believed to reside on eight mountain peaks that tower over the Kathmandu Valley. It is believed that these eight mountains surround the cosmic Mount Sumeru. Pietro tells Bruno the myth and asks him, who learns more – the one who has seen eight mountains and eight sees or the one who has reached the top of the Mount Sumeru. Bruno understands immediately that he is the one who does not ever move from the holy mountain while Pietro has been making the tours of the eight mountains. Pietro, who at some point says, “I was tired of the old me. I wanted to transform, evolve, leave” is the one who is on the move while Bruno remains, strengthening his roots more and more with the coming years. He and his place on earth become inseparable.  

Kathmandu, via https://nepal8thwonder.com/mountains-from-kathmandu/

A central motive in the story is the father complex that Pietro embarks on healing. Pietro’s father had a dream of building a house high up next to the peak of Mount Grenon (the name is fictitious but the movie was shot in Italy in the Aosta Valley). After amassing a pile of rocks from an ancient wall, the father suddenly passes away, leaving Bruno with the solemn pledge to construct the house in his memory. Pietro is shocked upon discovering that his father had kept in touch with Bruno and that they both had been climbing the mountains in Bruno’s village. Dejected, he says, “I inherited a ruin, a pile of rocks.”

Pietro also discovers a map left by his father, where he marked the trails they had walked in different colours. Pietro decides to walk all of these trails himself and carefully takes the time to add his mark on the map, too. He literally follows in his father’s footsteps and muses, “I lost my first father, who was a stranger to me, and found the second father – the father of the mountains.” On each peak that he climbs he flips through a summit book, where climbers note down the thoughts they had on the peak together with their names and the date of the climb. He reads all the words left by his father as a sort of a last message to him.  

Perhaps the most touching and beautiful aspect of the movie is the friendship between Bruno and Pietro. When they were children, Bruno called Pietro Berio, which in his dialect meant “rock” as Pietro’s name also ultimately derives from the Greek petra (rock). And quite literally, although they lose touch for some time, they are both each other’s rocks. Together they undertake a project of building a mountain shelter to fulfil the dream of Pietro’s late father. They call the hut Barma Drola, which in the local dialect means “a protrusion in the rock, the ‘shelter’ you squeeze into during a storm in the mountains. (3) It is a refuge away from the world, where they both meet every year to renew their friendship. It is so close to the cosmic mountain that at some point the mountain claims it back to its womb. When Bruno dies, Pietro makes the decision never to return to the mountain again. He chooses the horizontal path, the path of life and incarnation. Bruno chose the path of ascension and had become one with the spirit of the mountain.

At the end of the movie Pietro becomes a writer and moves to Nepal, where he marries. During their last meeting at Barma Bruno says to Pietro, “I’m glad you have found your words.” As the son of the mountain, Bruno helps all the main characters to get in touch with their soul, to evolve towards their true essence. In this way, he takes upon himself the mantle of the sage or even the guru. I have found it quite fitting that alongside the 108 auspicious beads, each mala has a larger bead called Sumeru or Meru, which holds the mala together. It is also called the guru bead. Bruno is the guru bead of this beautiful story. He is the living, beating heart that not only sustains the story but also serves as a transformative force, breathing life into every character, infusing them with his wisdom and vitality. He functions as a guiding guru, shaping and inspiring the growth of each character within the narrative.

Notes:

(1) Mabbett, I. W. “The Symbolism of Mount Meru.” History of Religions, vol. 23, no. 1, Aug. 1983, pp. 64-83. Published by The University of Chicago Press.

(2) Ibid.

(3) https://www.lovevda.it/en/database/22/room-rentals-chambres-d-hotes/brusson/a-barma-drola/9003893

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Odilon Redon: Master of Life

​“Not only are we the products of multiple entangled ancestors, spanning vast ranges of the evolutionary field; we are not even individuals at all. Rather, we are walking assemblages: riotous communities of multi-species, multi-bodied beings, inside and outside of our very cells. Life is soupy, mixed up and tumultuous. Muddying the waters is precisely the point, because it’s from such nutritious streams that life grows.”

James Bridle, “Ways of Being: Animals, Plants, Machines: The Search for the Planetary Intelligence”

Odilon Redon’s symbolic art is never disembodied, mystical as it is. On the contrary, his aesthetic, otherworldly as it may be seen, is firmly rooted in the tangible and the material. The real and the fantastic are parts of the same mystery of Life. Paul Gauguin was of the same opinion,

“Thus, we take for real the strange creatures populating Redon’s drawings…. In his work. dreams become reality because of the believability he gives them. All of his plants, his embryonic and essentially human creatures have lived with us beyond a doubt…” (1)

Odilon Redon, The Misshapen Polyp Floated on the Shores, a Sort of Smiling and Hideous Cyclops, plate 3 of 8 from “Les Origines”

And as Redon phrased it himself, what his art did was put “the logic of the visible at the service of the invisible.” (2)

Life captured by Redon seems to be governed by the law of metamorphosis; it is never static, always changing and becoming, never fully formed. Like in the alchemical opus, his painting evolved from an early nigredo – the black period, which brought his noirs, towards light and colour of his later years. In his art, there is constant shapeshifting, not only of forms and organisms, but also of colours, which melt into one another in wonderful diffusion.

“The Birth of Venus”

He was especially fascinated by the theory of evolution and the sea as the cradle of life. As Hauptmann writes,

“For Redon, the swirling sea and its creatures anemones, sea horses, coral (it is interesting to note that these pictures do not include larger marine animals like fish, sharks, dolphins, and whales, concentrating instead on those on the lower rungs of the evolutionary ladder) became the perfect subject for an aesthetic focused on change and transformation.”

“Underwater Vision”

Especially beautiful is his “Underwater Vision” with Neptune who “dissolves into the texture of the water,” clad in beautiful coral robes. (3) The creatures of the sea are unidentifiable here: it is hard to say if they are plants, animals or perhaps both. Oannes is another mythical amphibious being portrayed by Redon.  In ancient Mesopotamia, Oannes is described as a creature with the lower body of a fish and the upper body of a human. He emerged from the ocean in order to impart wisdom to humanity.

Oannès: I, the First Consciousness of Chaos, Arose from the Abyss to Harden Matter, to
Regulate Form; from The Temptation of Saint Anthony 1896

In 1913 Redon published a collection of lithographs called Origines, in which he explored the themes of creation and evolution. There he depicted “a place of chaos and indeterminacy, of murky swamplands” and “the prehistoric mire.” (4). Despite Darwin’s theory of evolution, which was put forward in Redon’s lifetime, many still believed then, as they do even now, that humans are the crown of creation, that the human shape is the crowning achievement of the evolutionary process. Redon’s vision denies this illusion:

“By grafting human features onto the most shapeless creatures known to science, Redon has radically revised long-held models of human corporeality rooted in the idea of an original wholeness: man’s origins are as formless, as base, as the earliest primordial matter. Moreover, what Redon seems to articulate in this album is that this original, lacking state can never be overcome…” (5).

Siren Coming out of the Waves, Dressed in Flames, plate 4 of 8 from “Les Origines”

Only now does science slowly wake up to the idea that human intelligence does not stand above creation. Redon was aware that all forms of life live in entanglement (6). What is more, he seems to have known that “there are no hierarchies: no ‘higher’ or ‘lower’; none more, or less, evolved. Everything is intelligent.” (7) Everything is conscious and consciousness permeates everything, and that explains the symbolic value of the eye, which appears in so many Redon’s paintings.

“The eye like a strange balloon goes to infinity”

Notes:

(1) Hauptman, J. (2005). Beyond the Visible: The Art of Odilon Redon. Museum of Modern Art.

(2) Ibid.

(3) Ibid.

(4) Martha Lucy, “Into the Primeval Slime: Body and Self in Redon’s Evolutionary Universe” https://www.erudit.org/en/journals/racar/2009-v34-n1-racar05297/1069497ar/

(5) Ibid.

(6) James Bridle (2022). Ways of Being: Animals, Plants, Machines: The Search for the Planetary Intelligence. Penguin.

(7) Ibid.

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