Showing posts with label Archetypes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Archetypes. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

The Classical Elements, Alignment, and World-Building


The Four Symbols for the Elements are shown below the Alchemical Figures above, from Johann Daniel Mylius’ Philosophia reformata (1622).
The classical systems of elements popular in the great civilizations are usually known to gamers in quaternity: fire, air, water, and earth.  These four are also popular in the contemporary imagination thanks to the Avatar cartoons.  Adopting conceptions of these has seemed a natural (haha!) move for cosmological mythopoesis.  If you are working on the big picture for a game setting, you can immediately start thinking of these in terms of alignment.  I like doing so using the axis of Chaotic to Lawful.  Keep in mind that I am not being absolutist here and saying that all comprised of these elements are Chaotic or Lawful, but that the preponderance of an element seems to tend in a particular direction.  Asking myself what would be the archetypal nature of each element in terms of alignment, I find myself with the table below:

Four ElementsAlignment
FIREChaotic
AIRChaotic
WATERChaotic
EARTHLawful

This is telling for me in two ways: first, the physical world is more aligned with Chaos than it is with Law.  Moreover, the element closest to humanity (humus-human or earth-men) is Law.  Hence, humans, (and for that matter, dwarves) are usually tied more closely to Law in RPG materials because they are tied to, and perhaps even primarily composed of, earth.  "And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul" (Genesis 2:7).  If they are primarily of the element which stands in contrast to the rest of the elements alignment-wise, this is a source of conflict.  There is a problem, however, when it comes to these four elements being enough to comprise the cosmos.  Air-atmosphere is one thing, but what about those heavenly or spiritual substances that are not material or physical?  Those that are literally no-thing?  If the atmosphere and its winds are chaotic, are not the heavenly orderly?  Don't the heavenly bodies provide the regular movements by which we may measure the terrestrial bodies below?  Is not the King of Heaven a deity of Law, the Law-giver himself?

These considerations bring us to face-to-face with the fact that many, if not most, many versions of the classical elements total five rather than four.  Consider the refinement below, which will use the letter Q to stand for the fifth, derived from Aristotle's quintessence.  


Five-Element System
Q Lawful
FIRE Chaotic
AIRChaotic
WATERChaotic
EARTHLawful

This schema might seem like just a Western variant, or perhaps even too Christian, but comparison to Indian, Japanese, and Tibetan systems reveal that it is not uniquely Aristotlean or Judeo-Christian.  (NB. I find the sections on Buddhism and China most inadequate and even confused/confusing and advise you to look further afield rather than make too many assumptions based on that portion of the Wikipedia entry.)  The system of five elements is dealing with questions and problems of thought that the fourfold system was insufficient to deal with.  Air needed to be split up to account for the kinds of questions above and beliefs about the realm above the dome of the sky.  You may call Q as best fits with your mythopoesis, but note the terms used for it in the past: Void, Heaven, Space, Aether, Spirit.  As we have moved from ancient Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, we found a need to distinguish what was once a single word: wind/breath/spirit.  While the winds of the air blow where they will, the heavenly spirits proceed in the stately movement of their spheres -- precise and predictable. And note that, even in the world of Avatar, the story can't leave well enough (supposedly, four) alone.  The avatar (incarnate in a particular element-bender) can achieve an Avatar-state, and in addition to the standard four there is energy bending.
Image Source
A five-element cosmology still provides for plenty of conflict (three-fifths of the categories of all things are fundamentally against us?!) and for the idea that there is some connection between a transcendent Law and its reflection on earth.  For those who do not divide the elements into five but retained the four-element system, I would recognize the "split" within Air by saying that the element is Neutral.

Next time: Using this general conception of world building with gaming particulars.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

S if for SAGE

The images of Zeno of Citium and Confucius provide two strongly contrasting images of the sage from two classical societies that valued the wisdom of the wise, while disagreeing internally over the nature of wisdom and the man who wielded it.  The sage is important in the real, external world as the rare possessor of valuable knowledge.  They have a correspondingly high place in our internal and secondary worlds.  For Jungian investigations, you will want to look under the term senex.  Both as teachers and as figures, their value extends beyond their lifetimes.


Where is the wise? where is the scribe? where is the disputer of this world?


1 Cor 1:20















Correspondingly, the sage has had an important role in fantasy role-playing, as well -- both in the primary world of the player or gamer, and in the secondary world of the game or characters.  There is the sage who knows the way of gaming, and so dispenses wisdom to the gamers.  The late Jean Wells was one of the original sages, dispensing wisdom in our Dragon Magazine feature, Sage Advice.  There are also sages as NPCs in the game itself.  They serve as an expensive resource for characters who need help solving a problem with knowledge to which they have no other access.  They can also serve as a nice plot device for GMs who want to present players with an option for play.

Sages to the Seventh Power
If one sage is good, then seven sages must be awesome.  Many cultures have thought so.  Sumeria had theirs.  Ancient India had the saptarishi.  Pre-Socratic Greece had their seven sages.  Three Kingdoms China had their Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove.  Finally, there is the fascinating case of the fictional Seven Sages of Rome, a cycle of early European romances that appear to have Sanskrit, Persian, and Hebrew origins.  This makes me want to create my own council of the wise!

Monday, August 29, 2011

Dwarves are Dudes


I remember the days before Betamax and cable TV.  We had these arcane devices called projectors and we put quaint objects called reels on them when we wanted to watch something like, say, Disney's Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs.  Luckily, my family had a copy, so this childhood favorite was available to make an impression on my young mind in the years before it was released for video players: between theatrical re-releases (no, I wasn't around in 1937, thank you very much) and televised broadcasts, I was not left dwarfless.  The most important lesson this animated classic taught me was simple.  DWARVES ARE DUDES.  However much fairy tale purists may deplore Disney's adaptations from the traditional source material, the film found a way to represent faithfully certain folklore aspects of the dwarfs of the Märchen that go back at least as far as Norse mythology -- above all, that they are uniformly male.  Iconic dwarves of today fit this mold just as well as Grumpy does.  (See Pathfinder's Harsk, below.)



This has so impressed my imagination, that I find mythopoesis that turns dwarves (yes, I still prefer Tolkien's spelling for them) into just another race of two sexes, with a mundane biology like our own, uncongenial.  Dwarves are male just like some other beings (magical?  fey?) are female: sirens, mermaids, gorgons, harpies, dryads, nymphs, and so on.  This observation suggests a natural role for dwarves in a fantasy ecology as the male progenitors of these various female races.  Males born of such unions would be dwarves, females born of these unions would be the same as their mothers.  I like this more than bearded females that only dwarf males can tell are female (Tolkien) and dwarves growing out of stone (C. S. Lewis), and it opens up further avenues of world-building and story-telling, in which the relations between dwarves and their mates play out.

That's all for today, fellow Ramblers.  Thanks for joining me for another Mythopoiec Monday.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Deriving Characters for Gaming from the Symbols & Values of the Standard Card Deck



There's something about card decks with their suites and numbers and the potential for interpreting their symbolism in archetypal ways.  Jung, famously, was fascinated by the Tarot, as was Christian novelist Charles Williams (see the novel The Greater Trumps).  Many gamers have been likewise captivated.  The first cards that appeared in D&D, to my knowledge, were the magical Deck of Many Things (in game).  Later, cards appeared both in game and with physical decks at the table.  The Ravenloft campaign setting had the Tarot-inspired Tarokka deck to do character readings, and Paizo has followed up with the Harrow deck for the Golarion setting.  (I can testify from experience that this deck makes a very fun addition to role-playing.  It's available for sale here.)

A Harrow Card
But even a standard deck of playing cards holds an attraction for me: especially the face cards.  The idea that a character's future might be foretold by cards is not far from the idea that cards could predetermine who a character will be.  The archetypal nature of the character classes themselves suggested a link with card symbolism.  Reflecting on the numerical needs of character generation and the suggestive possibilities of the suites and faces, I recently created rules for using the standard deck (including the two Jokers or whatever your deck calls them) to create NPCs.  After tweaking with the rules to get the method up to optimum speed and written with maximum clarity, I created scores and scores of NPCs.  It seems fun and useful to me, as well as drawing on the mystique of the cards.  What do the cards have in store for your game?  Play around with my download and find out.  Feedback welcome.


Note: The method was made with my own evolving house rules of classical D&D in mind, so primary attributes will not be what you are used to.  I assigned one of the four classic races to each suite and one of the four classic classes to each suite, and each race and each class have their own primary attributes (except human which gets the free choice of a racial primary attribute and halfling and thief which both share dexterity.)

I hope that these may be of some interest to others, so it's time to step away from hording gaming material other than flavor away and risking a little sharing.  Though it's late, from where I am, I can still wish you a merry Mythopoeic Monday.

Monday, August 1, 2011

The Ouroboros

The image of a serpent (snake or dragon) with its tail in its mouth is ancient, pervasive, and arresting. Frankly, it's also one of my favorites. The serpent itself is popular in symbolism in its own right, but something about the ouroboros makes it stand out.  While obviously the circle itself is suggestive and useful, I propose moreover that it is because the ouroboros introduces an irreducible ambiguity that creates tension and narrative.

The Rub: what is the serpent doing?  The Greek name of the symbol tells us literally that "he eats the tail."

But is the serpent eating his own tail?  
Why would the serpent be eating itself?  Is it an expression of the death wish?  The greed or gluttony which consumes itself? Total Self-Sufficiency (or the futility of the notion)?
Certainly, the alchemists were attracted to this symbol (as were Hermeticists and Gnostics) from time of the second century Chrysopoeia ("Gold Making") of Cleopatra, and so it was reproduced throughout the Middle Ages.  In the version in the Chrysopoeia, it is accompanied by the Greek inscription, "One is All."  Yet, the failure of the attempt to transmute base metals into gold by discovering the quintessence, the philosopher's stone, can't help but cast such proclamations in a futile light.  For the quest to have value, once must spiritualize alchemy as Jung and his followers have.


In contemporary tales of alchemy (see the Full Metal Alchemist and FMA: Brotherhood franchise of manga and anime), the symbol might implicitly indicate the tendency of the state to consume the people it uses as weapons and the fundamental ambivalence of power, in contrast to a principle of equivalent exchange.  If the state destroys all its members in the perpetuation of itself, where then is the state?


One final note: if a snake does mistake it's own tail for a meal, the results are disastrous for it apart from human intervention.   If human beings had come across such a snake in an ancient context, the primitive mind would have likely latched on to such a prodigy as a potent omen.  There is at least one more good candidate in nature for the inspiration behind the ouroboros.


Or is he curling up and holding on?
There is a species of lizard in Africa that has adapted a peculiar antipredator behavior:

Armadillo Lizard (Cordylus cataphractus).  Photo by Cindy Shuttleworth
 So the serpent might be protecting itself, rather than engaging in autosarcophagy.  Inscribing something inside the serpent might, however suggests that serpent is protecting something else.  Or is it?  One of the most common instances of the encircling serpent is the Midgard serpent of Norse lore.  Jörmungandr is usually understood as threatening the world with an encirclement of doom.  Are we trapped?  Will we be crushed?  But beside a native hostility to the snake, the encirclement might be an embrace rather than assault.  Perhaps he girds us to guard us.

Or is he shedding his skin?
The snake's shedding of his skin seems to have fired the human imagination early on.  Does he go on shedding his skin, renewing his youth, ever-growing and ever-living?  Oh for the power that we might do so!  So it seems that some have latched onto the ouroboros as a symbol of reincarnation, eternal life, or related concepts.  I don't know that any snake actually engages in biting the tail to assist itself in moulting, but the ancients may well have thought as much.  It fits with the circle as a symbol of infinity or eternity.

Ultimate Ambivalence
Finally, the ambivalence of the ouroboros symbol calls to mind another serpent symbol.  There is a serpent encircling a tree.  How do know it is the serpent tempting you to disobedience, forbidden knowledge, and death?  What if your knee-jerk identification of the serpent as Satan mislead you from the appearance of Christ on his cross (Nehushtan*)?  Is this the wise serpent that poisons or that saves?

Sébastien Bourdon, Moses and the Brazen Serpent, 1653. The Prado, Madrid.

Until the next time our rambles cross, I wish you a merry Mythopoeic Monday!


*Numbers 21:4-9; John 3:14-15.  Cf. the rod of the healer Aesculapius.

Monday, July 4, 2011

It's Snowing Villains!

Happy July 4th to my fellow Americans!  Maybe the heat of the Texas summer is just getting to me, but I've had wintry villains on my mind lately.  Not just cold climate monsters, mind you, but individual characters with frosty outsides and frosty morality.  The first one I remember encountering comes courtesy of Rankin-Bass'  Santa Claus is Coming to Town:

The Winter Warlock
Shortly thereafter, my class took a field trip to see Hans Christian Andersen's Snow Queen on the stage.

Of course the Christmas specials kept up the barrage:

From Year without a Santa Claus' Loveable Snow Miser
to Frosty the Snowman's jerkish Jack Frost.

These days, I'm more likely to think of Narnia's usurping, dem fine woman, or the hilarious, suspiciously winter-warlock-like Ice King of Adventure Time.


How does this guy enjoy life so much when happiness constantly eludes him?
What can we say in general?  There is a figure popular in various manifestations, perhaps a personification, that attracts monarchy and magic, winter and wickedness.  The mash-up plays on archetypal themes of the shadow and opposing gender image (anima/animus) and turns them into a figure of power that is associated with the chaotic, difficult, and destructive potential of winter, sometimes grudgingly retaining the beauty of winter.  It's a compelling mix for a villain.  For my own setting of Ygg, I'll be combining the two into a composite of Loki and the Finnish Louhi, taking advantage also Loki's penchant for changing forms -- who's to say that s/he has one true form instead of a range of forms?  That's it for this Mythopoeic Monday.  I'd love to hear your thoughts on these cold characters, and let me know of any that I have missed!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Q is for Queenly Quest

No, I'm not just being cute, nor showing off that I can think of more than one Q word, nor kicking up my consonantal alliterating heels, nor suffering from the inability to choose a subject.  I actually have something in mind here: multiple relationships between queens and quests, two classic mythopoeic elements, and if one puts any stock in Jungian theories, two archetypes in and of themselves.  What are these combinations?
  1. The Quest to find a Queen.
  2. The Quest to become Queen.
  3. The Quest on behalf of the Queen.
  4. The Queen going on a Quest.

Illustration by Edmund Dulac

The Quest to find a Queen
Every king needs a queen, so goes the traditional assumption.  It seems to be generally desirable that a king be of a providential temper, and so that he exercise forethought to have a queen-to-be at the ready before his ascension to the throne.  Thus all the stories in history, legend, and literature about the prince finding a princess against the day that he takes on the crown and all that pertains thereunto.  According to the global media reporting enthusiastically on upcoming nuptials between a certain William Mountbatten-Windsor and his fiancée Kate Middleton, I am lead to believe that such fairy-tale countries as the United Kingdom still observe this nicety.  If Jane Austen had written fairy-tales, we might have had this:  "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single prince in possession of a good kingdom must be in want of a princess."  So Hans Christian Anderson gives us "The Princess and the Pea."  The concern in this story is the test to identify a real princess.  Is she the genuine article?  Does she have the potential to become the queen?  Perhaps princes are poor judges of such an important matter.  Using the principle "it takes one to know one," the queen mother is the one who can discern the young lady who's got the right stuff, and the critical test of the pea underneath a score of mattresses neatly sorts the gentle lady from the look-a-likes.  Whatever form the quest to find her takes, the queen is a figure highly desired, and finding her is something quest-worthy.

Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland in the Robes of State by Franz Xavier Winterhalter, 1859

The Quest to become Queen
Your mind might first go to the all the historical stories of the strong women who set out to rule, but I have more in mind the young lady who sets out on her quest not knowing that it will end with a queenly crown.  Maybe it's the extent I've been influenced by fairy-tale thinking, maybe it is just a personal preference or something about my own worldview.  Often fairy-tale retellings end with the heart-shaped close-up of the happy couple and a Happily Ever After caption.  This seems to me a practical necessity at best, and a damn shame at worst.  Even if this the moment she becomes or is revealed to be a princess, this is just one initiation before the ultimate one.  The heroine has yet to graduate to queen!  I would like to explore the trials that the noble young woman overcomes to achieve her queenship.


Miniature of George Clifford, 3rd Earl of Cumberland, the Queen's Champion, by Hilliard, c. 1590.
The Quest on behalf of the Queen
I'd be willing to bet that this what comes to most people's minds first.  My memory is dominated by scenes of favors and jousting, of Sir Lancelot du Lac riding to Guinevere's defense in trial by combat, and of Ivanhoe serving the same for Rebecca the Jewess.  But even when queens don't need saving, they are first and foremost a medieval Lady and therefore have a Knight who goes forth at her bidding (see the code of courtly love).  I'm tempted to speculate about how women could improve their life and the life of their husbands based on exalting the Honey Do list, but I think I shall steer back towards safer waters.  One cool thing about the latest Alice in Wonderland film was seeing Alice appear as the White Queen's Champion.

Queen Amidala of Naboo, property of Lucasfilm Ltd.
The Queen going on a Quest
This would seem to be the rarest of all.  I'd love to hear of examples people may have of the queen going questing, but all I can think of is Amidala in Star Wars Episode I.  First, a queen has to change into a more practical questing outfit, obviously.

As Jungian Archetypes
If the Jungian take is correct, the Queen represents the fully individuated, fully realized female self.  She is the embodiment of the ideals and virtues of female wisdom and power, of female maturity and achievement.  In other words, she is the goal of the ultimate, lifelong quest for a woman.  (Individuation or self-actualization is the quest itself.)  That she is worthy of the quest, whether to find her or become her, that she is worthy to command quests in which she takes various parts, is obvious upon accepting this view of her.  Perhaps the strong tradition of female domesticity counteracts having lots of stories of the queen going questing herself, but I expect that this will change, if it hasn't already.  I mean, who's going to stop her?

Friday, April 15, 2011

M is for Melchizedek and Merlin



Melchizedek, the priest-king of Salem mentioned in Genesis 14, Psalm 110, and Hebrews 5-7, is a mysterious and attractive figure.  "Without father, without mother, without descent, having neither beginning of days, nor end of life; but made like unto the Son of God; abideth a priest continually."  This ancient patriarch appears in the Bible from nowhere, receives homage from Abraham, celebrates a sacral meal with him, and then disappears just as mysteriously.  One cannot help but wonder if the text is hinting that he has been assumed into heaven bodily, like Enoch, Elijah, and Mary.



Now consider the mysterious figure of Merlin.  His origin is a mystery.  One rumor held him to be the son of a nun by a/the devil.  He doesn't die, but is sealed up in a cave or tree, and there is an expectation that he will return with Arthur in the hour of England's greatest need (don't make me wrestle you to the ground and confess that C. S. Lewis' greatest novel is That Hideous Strength).  Now my "What if..."

What if Merlin is Melchizedek? 
A figure whose wisdom has been accrued through the ages.  Perhaps he is one of the nephilim and that's the source of his non-human origin and the taint of a fall.  He could then be a master of angelic powers in addition to the wisdom of the ages.  I have figured for years that someone would have made this speculative or imaginative connection, but I have yet to have found that it has been made before.  If it has, please point it out to me.

Friday, April 1, 2011

A is for the Archetypes, April Fool, and Apollo

Welcome to the first installment of the 26 alphabetic entries of April!  Today's post will deal with two different archetypal figures, Apollo and the April Fool.


A Note on Archetypes
The concept of archetype is older than its Jungian developments.  Even if you don't buy-in to much of Jung, there is a strength, a primal-ness, and ubiquity of certain images, and this what I am looking to trade on.  I won't be worrying so much about the Jungian category that these images fit in (which archetype or blending of archetypes they are) as much as reflecting and playing with the images themselves.  I think tropes (in the sense of the addictive TVTropes, click on link below at your own peril) are a good sign that we are likely dealing with the expression of something archetypal, with something that has some serious symbolic heft.

Image by Willem den Hertog

Apollo
The Greek solar god suggests the Self as it blazes in power and the will, but this is desire civilized and cultivated, guided by the light of the intellect and giving light and warmth to all those so blessed to be in its orbit.  The Intellect is in the driver's seat of this chariot, carrying a cargo of knowledge, truth, oracular prophecy, medicine and health, music, poetry, and the arts, herding and colonial settlement, youth and athleticism.  Many are the gifts of this bright god, but they generally burn beneficently and not out of control.  (Negative scenes are not unknown, but there is a strong tendency to shift such things away from Apollo and towards Dionysios, the god of ecstasy, drunkenness, and madness: the desires let loose.  This is certainly evident in Nietzsche and Jung.  Cf. my post below on duality)  Apollo thus is the expression of many ideals of classical Greece and was later adopted at the dawn of France's obsessive classicism by Louis XIV, the sun king.  Even when not named, the anthropomorphized sun is a popular and persistent image.  In this part of the United States, its popularity in Hispanic contexts is especially evident.



April Fools
I'm struck by the solar imagery in the popular Rider-Waite Tarot card of The Fool.  This fair-haired youth, resplendently arrayed, is walking the path of doom, oblivious to danger and warning.  While not all those who wander are lost, the Fool obviously is.  But what of the solar imagery?  The golden youth, decked with laurels, his head in the clouds we see above clearly has solar elements of his own.  Is this a comment on the follies possible for the extreme Apollonian?  That one could dwell in one's head, in the realm of ideals, so much that one loses touch with earthly realities?

If that is one kind of fool, I don't see the connection with April Fools Day.  We are faced with a problem right away: Who is the April Fool?  Is she the person oblivious to the schemes of the merry prankster or is he the obnoxious prankster himself, who observes the day by trying to trick people all day long with outrageous and even humiliating pranks?  It might be an interesting normative dilemma, but I'm going to resolve it by distinguishing between the Fool who Pranks as the Trickster and the Fool who is Pranked, calling the latter the April Fool.  Dwelling in himself, the April Fool is insensitive to external realities that are unimportant to him.  He knows the date, but that the trickster is operative on this date is not duly weighed.  He doesn't see the trickster coming, and he is oblivious to the setup of the prank.  Someone has cut down the rope bridge at the mountainous chasm, but the Fool doesn't look.  Is he contemplating the reflective glory of Apollo in the vault of the mind or the vault of the sky?  Again, I don't think, most April Fools are so Apollonian.  They are focused actually on practical matters at hand like the yawning chasm in front of them.  Season aside, April Fools are apt to look more like this:
Image by Charles M. Schulz
The April Fool thinks the dog, if there is one, is barking a warning -- a warning it doesn't need to pay attention to because he's already hard at work on the case of the chasm.  He doesn't realize the barking is to lull him into forgetting about the dog as an important factor.  This will allow the dog to time its move perfectly, whether leaping at his back when AF is precariously balanced, or doing a run under the feet and tripping AF.  Hilarious! barks the dog.  I never saw it coming until it was too late, bemoans the April Fool.

What I've been groping towards is a distinction between the April Fool and the Apollonian Fool.  The distinction comes down to this: while the Apollonian Fool doesn't need a Trickster to fall off the mountain, the April Fool isn't a fool until the Trickster makes her into a fool.  The April Fool's is made a fool by someone else. This is different from a kind of Apollonian autism or absent-minded professorship.

Apollo is a big help, but not a big help when it comes to dealing with the Trickster.  Baby Hermes shakes him up one side and down the other.  Come to think of it, Apollo himself is more of an April Fool than an Apollonian Fool.  The difficulty is not being distracted, but of dealing with a master manipulator.  Apollo is fine as long as people are honest and is only in trouble when the smooth Trickster shows up and sets to work.  This is all starting to sound like cautionary tale for April and Apollonian Fools, so lest we forget, these fools are normally very happy folks...until they fall off the mountain in the case of the Apollonian Fool or are pushed off of the mountain in the case of the April Fool.

Whatever way you go, I wish you all joy of your archetypes, a happy April, and happy Abecedaries!

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Archetypes of Duality: Janus, Haga, & Co.

"Two heads are better than one."  An English proverb, in print by 1546.

two-faced
adj.
1. Having two faces or surfaces.
2. Hypocritical or double-dealing; deceitful.
The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2009. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.


The Strict Janus Face vs. Other Two-Faces
The image above is a reproduction I own of a herm.  Most herms appear to have been of Hermes, as the name would lead you to expect, and were blocks used as markers topped by a head scultpure (of Hermes or another figure) and were ithyphallic.  The one I have is less usual, appearing at first to be an image of Janus.  In fact, it is two different faces, however, rather than two identical Janus faces.  Seemingly, this herm is Hermes on one side and Dionysios on the other.

What is the meaning of the Janus face?  Most basically, it is a figure of duality.  Moreover it is a doubling, an intensification.  Janus, the Roman god of gates/doors, gives us the name for our gateway month: January.  Thus he faces both sides of the gate.  It is natural that Hermes would attract characteristics of Janus since he's the liminal god the Greeks, presiding over roads and travel, even travel between the world and the underworld.  He shared the crossroads with Hecate.


Familiarity with the caduceus, or herald's staff (shown above) with the entwined snakes may call to mind a similarity with the Janus face, but these are two faces of two different snakes* facing one another: the role that a herald plays.  Still, the intermediary character is present in both, if not the same degree of duality-in-unity.

But whereas the simple Janus-type gives Janus both the view one direction and the view the other, this herm gives Hermes the view one direction and Dionysos the other.  Hermes plays an import role in the story of Dionysos, so perhaps this is the reason for the pairing.  (If we knew the location of the original, this might shed further light.)  Hermes, as psychopomp or Soul Guide, may be leading us from our world into the celebration of the Dionysian Mysteries.  We still know little of these rites, and are left with later evidence and much speculation.  But as Dionysos stood as savior figure to his devotees, it make sense that his own savior, who, among other things was the messenger of the gods and the guide of souls, would guide initiates into the ecstasies of the divine union.

What about "hypocritical, double-dealing, deceitful"?  Why do we make this association rather than "two heads are better than one" in the case of Janus?  One clue might be the fore noted fact that for Janus, they are the same face.  But note the further character of Hermes: he's the god of thieves, and took up cattle-rustling almost immediately on birth, in his steps to becoming a full-blown wheeler-dealer.  He's a classic example of the Trickster archetype.  Dionysos, on the other hand, is the god of wine, which is well-known for its own deceitful effects, likely linked to his being the inspirer of divine madness.

The two-faced figure also makes an important appearance in another combination with Hermes: his son Hermaphroditos, which is half Hermes his father, half Aphrodite his mother (different versions of the story exist), the origin of our own term hermaphrodite.  Representations of this figure, especially in alchemy, fascinated Jung as they fit his theory of a transgendered archetype in each personal unconscious, men's anima and women's animus.  Here again, what's important is the difference, the compounding.

The Haga or Double-Headed Imperial Eagle
My fondness for this figure is seen in the Hittite blog entry (02-19-2011) and the heraldic shield by my name. The earliest known uses are Hittite, and they in the same region as the later center of the Roman Empire, Christianized and re-centered on Constantinople.  Here the Romans pick up the image and make it their own, and it is from here that it spreads to the Holy Roman Empire in the West and its descendants, Imperial Russia (which called itself the third Rome), and the Seljuk Empire. It is given a single crown, emphasizing one Emperor and one Empire, though it faces both east and west.  This was both geographical (the east-west axis was the longest and most important one for the Empire) and political (difficulty in holding together both halves of the Empire was not just a worry: eventually it produced two cultural-linguistic spheres and split the Imperial Church as well. 

Now, Jung did know a version of the image that emphasizes compounding or hybrid, as opposed to duality-in-unity in its bi-directionality.  Instead of one crown there were two and, unlike some representations with two identical crowns, there was a papal tiara on one head and the crown of the emperor on the other.  Thus instead of representing East and West, it represented the spiritual and temporal powers of a (theoretically) united Christendom.

A Jungian Meditation
The figure of duality, with two identical faces or heads, faces two directions.  It is one, and therefore a good candidate for an archetype of the Self.  Having identified a Self that faces two directions, we now look for the identity of the two directions.  The past and the future are good candidates, this would yield a figure of Wisdom that has learned the lessons of the past yet looks forward with foresight.  But for a specifically Jungian meaning, the most obvious reference, in the absence of gender difference, is the Conscious and the Unconscious.  A more awakened Self has larger vision than the Conscious Self, which faces out only into life through the Ego.  The realization of Janus looks also back into the Unconscious, so that the Conscious Self is not dominated by unseen psychic forces.  This is a particularly Jungian version of Wisdom, larger even than the temporal self.  It is well represented by this kingly image:
This figure does not have the connotations of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the Wolfman, Two-Face, or the Norse goddess Hela -- the shadow, Jung might say, of the two-faced Self or the unintegrated hybrid or compound of two disparate selves or natures.

The divided figure: the negative usage or conception of the person with two faces is more prominent, so I will not dwell on it as long.  Whenever we call someone "two-faced," we are not complementing them on their complexity.  We have seen one face that we trust, and then learned to our sorrow that another personality just as real, if not more so, lurked out of sight which harmed us once we let down our guard.

How do we know the difference between the two kinds of figures on mere sight?  Can one always tell the god from the monster?  The healthy whole person from the pathologically divided person?  Not all will always agree in concrete instances.  For example, later history judges the Rome of the double-headed Eagle to be not the Roman Empire with its positive value of the two heads, but the Byzantine Empire, another beast all together, a grotesque and degenerate hybrid.  So Edward Gibbon would have us believe, and therefore we find a derivative, negative usage of the adjective, byzantine:

4. often not capitalized a : of, relating to, or characterized by a devious and usually surreptitious manner of operation {a Byzantine power struggle} b : intricately involved : labyrinthine {rules of Byzantine complexity}
Merriam-Webster Dictionary, 2011. 

While I may have picked up on some clues that will help in our visual discernment, more practical kinds of discernment will only improve with continued reflection and practice.  The images that make a more obvious distinction for us may, however, give us points of reference for us to build on.

So What?
The potential of this powerful image, or images of its kind, for art, play**, and greater self-knowledge are rich.  First, ask yourself, what kind of duality am I exploring?  Is there a basic unity that seems most important?  Or is the difference the most important?  This will lead one to search for different types of images to contemplate and experiment with.  Then, if you have a clear answer, you are ready to settle on images that fit the feature, idea, or value you are exploring, whether it is the threshold between two realms, two features of a single society, or a flaw or division in a character that has both creative and destructive potential, depending on how it is integrated into the conscious Self...or not.  Exploring such characters, situations, representations, and themes will make ourselves and our creations deeper, more meaningful, and more likely to change for the better.  After all, pairings are as important in action as they are in dining or color schemes.


*Although, perhaps two mating snakes. 
** For attempts to use the Haga in a gaming context, see David Posener's concept of the Haga and Chris Mortika's attempt to stat it in Paizo's RPG Superstar 2010 contest.