The Dragon On My Arm 🐉

LIFE ON URTH - Episode 103

Last March, I got my first tattoo. Even though I only developed the concrete design recently, the motif had been clear for a long time. The idea had been maturing in me for almost ten years, so there is quite a lot to say about it. In this episode, I will try to summarize what the dragon on my arm is about — as well as I can.

The Origins and History of Consciousness

Last week, I mentioned Maps of Meaning (Jordan B. Peterson, 1999) as “the deepest book I ever managed to read.”

Peterson himself, in turn, describes Erich Neumann’s work as fundamental to his thinking, especially The Origins and History of Consciousness (1949). Even though I have owned it since university, I still haven’t managed to work through the whole book. The reading is… challenging. :)

Still, the book impressed me so much that my first tattoo is directly inspired by it: a version of the ancient symbol “Ouroboros.” Instead of a snake, a dragon now devours itself forever on my arm. As many of you know, I am an avowed dragon fan.

Before I explain what exactly this means to me, we need to look at the core idea in The Origins and History of Consciousness, which also underlies Maps of Meaning. For me, this model is so fascinating because it does not undermine the truths of modern science, but elegantly embeds them in the mystery of our subjective experience.

The Core Idea

Consciousness as a non-conceptual substance can never be fully described through signs (language, numbers). Still, there are recurring phenomena within our consciousness that can, in principle, be described.

Since the dawn of humanity, we have observed these phenomena and exchanged ideas about them. Over time, across cultures and borders, groups of symbols formed around the phenomena of consciousness — stories, images, fantasies.

Taken together, they point toward structural properties of consciousness, toward the anatomy of the mind. Like a soft cloth thrown over an otherwise invisible object, they give form to the unnameable. From The Origins and History of Consciousness:

The act of becoming conscious consists in the concentric grouping of symbols around the object, all circumscribing and describing the unknown from many sides. Each symbol lays bare another essential side of the object to be grasped, points to another facet of meaning. Only the canon of these symbols congregating about the center in question, the coherent symbol group, can lead to an understanding of what the symbols point to and of what they are trying to express.

Humans tell each other stories, individually and collectively. If we assume that the most common stories are the most useful and therefore come closest to the truth, then we can explore the anatomy of consciousness by comparing, for example, myths, art, or religious texts.

In this sense, the Bible is best understood as a symbolic collection, a library of those stories that, after thousands of years of being told, prevailed as the most meaningful.

So the question “What is consciousness?” could be reformulated as: What are all these stories pointing toward?

Ouroboros

To understand a story, you need to know the characters. The first part of The Origins and History of Consciousness examines the Ouroboros symbol. The oldest known depiction is about 3,400 years old and appears on the burial shrines surrounding the sarcophagus of Tutankhamun. The symbol and the stories surrounding it must therefore be significantly older than 3,400 years:

Egyptian Museum Kairo: Tutanchamun Treasure 2016 (Wikipedia, Djehouty)

As a symbol, Ouroboros encompasses all three main characters of consciousness: the two omnipresent world parents and the individual.

In its purest form, Ouroboros is the circle. Its interior is separated from the previously undifferentiated world. Something of its own emerges, a small self in the face of the infinite outside. It is surrounded on all sides by the overwhelming world from which it emerged. In symbolism/mythology, the nature around us is therefore maternal, feminine, the source of all treasures and dangers.

Compared with this maternal uroboros, human consciousness feels itself embryonic, for the ego feels fully contained in this primordial symbol. It is only a tiny helpless newcomer. In the pleromatic phase of life, when the ego swims about in the round like a tadpole, there is nothing but the uroboros in existence.

The circle stands for this experience of the self in the endless ocean of being. In nature, of course, there is no real separation; everything is one interconnected system. So the boundary of the circle is not an absolute separation, but always an area of exchange. And if you look at consciousness structurally, that is exactly right:

We live in a dome-shaped sphere whose horizon we can shift, but never reach. Our perceived world is always surrounded by something greater, from which its contents emerge. The illuminated part of the dome is the domain of civilization and culture. In symbolism/mythology, this area is paternal, masculine, the kingdom of the known and of control.

Together, these two world parents create the individual, who mediates between their territories. This image also matches all of my observations. My life always consists of moving between the known and the unknown. In symbolism/mythology, one’s own attitude toward this game determines whether one becomes the hero or the villain.

The mythological stages in the evolution of consciousness begin with the stage when the ego is contained in the unconscious, and lead up to a situation in which the ego not only becomes aware of its own position and defends it heroically, but also becomes capable of broadening and relativizing its experiences through the changes effected by its own activity.

The hero explores the unknown, faces his dragons, and shares the captured treasures with the community. At the same time, he leaves outdated structures behind when they become obstructive or dangerous, in a sense feeding parts of himself to nature.

Transformation happens at the boundary of the circle, as constant renewal: parts of the circle “die” and are absorbed by the world, while parts of the world are assimilated into the circle and form new contents. Both our moment-to-moment experience and our life as a whole follow this process. This is the self-consuming snake, eternally forming the horizon of our being.

What Good Is This?

Quite rightly, one may ask about the point of this whole discussion. What does this model actually do for me in everyday life?

The dragon on my arm reminds me of the freedom I always have: to see the world as it is — before I cover it with my concepts, ideas, judgments, and fantasies. It is unpredictable and at the same time beautiful. Frightening and at the same time hilarious.

It calls out to me: Be brave. Be curious. Tell the truth and wish for the consequences!

It stands for the eternal tension between preservation and renewal, where either side can be overdosed. Finding the balance is the hero's task — my task.

All these claims can be easily tested through deliberate attention. The first step is observing perception itself. Not conceptually, but in its real formlessness, for example, through meditation.

Eckhart Tolle would say: The recognition of illusion is also its ending. Its survival depends on your mistaking it for reality.

Brief project update on last week’s “sorting out clothes” project: Half of my T-shirts have already made their way to the local Diakonie! But of course, there is still more to come.

✒️ Quote of the Week: “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” -Marcel Proust

🍿 Video of the week: Is It Time To Accept That EVERYTHING is Conscious?

🎧 Song of the Week: Massano, Y do I - Lost My Mind

Now I’d love to hear from you!

Did something in my writing catch your attention?
Was there an idea you found particularly intriguing?
Or is there a question that’s been on your mind related to these topics?

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All the best,

Adrian / Urth

Can’t wait until next week’s edition? Check out my essays.