The Archetype of the Psychopomp

On Transformation of Symbols and Times of Transition

Dream journal notes:

I awoke in the middle of the night. I had been having stress dreams. Of what…? I could not recall. What remained was the tension in my body and the echos of heightened emotion. I slowly opened my eyes. As I gazed into the darkness, I saw before me, a large crawling spider. It lacked detail, but I could track its movement in the shadows, each of its many legs crawling slowly.

Curiously, the hypnopompic¹ vision elicited no further emotion from me. I kept watching the spider-like creature. And as I did, it began to morph. Its stride became longer and more fluid. Its legs shifted into four. The shape of a running wolf emerged clearly. A wash of ease came over me. My gaze followed the rhythm of its steps. I closed my eyes and fell back asleep…

As recounted in an older post², I suffered from night terrors as a child. I would wake up and see spiders all around me. It was overwhelming, panic-inducing and led to an intense arachnophobia that I still struggle with. I have not had visions like these since I was young, and so the contrast is striking.

The next morning, as I reflected on the experience, I was left to wonder…

• What is the psychological significance of the hypnopompic state and its connection to the archetypal psychopomp?

• What insight can be drawn from these symbolic images?

• What psychic process is at play that allowed the fearful image to transform?

The Psychopomp’s Realm

The Souls of Acheron by Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl

“The psychopompos is this second figure; you can call it the daimon, or the shadow, or a god, or an ancestor spirit; it does not matter what name you give it, it is simply a figure; it might even be an animal. For in such a predicament we are dépossèdés [dispossessed], we lose the power of our ego, we lose our self-confidence. Until that moment, we were willful or arbitrary, we had made our own choice, we had found out a way, we had proceeded as far as this particular place. Then suddenly we are in an impasse, we lose faith in ourselves, and it is just as if all of our energy became regressive. And then our psyche reacts by constellating that double, which has the effect of leading us out of the situation.”

- C.G. Jung, Visions: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1930–1934

Scattered through out our mythological stories (the revelations of the archetypal psyche in symbolic, narrative form), we find the Psychopomp, a figure who guides individuals into the afterlife. Charon ferries the dead across Acheron and Styx. Jackal-headed Anubis stands watch of the royal tombs in Egypt. Archangel Michael weighs the souls of the departed before they can enter the Gates of Heaven. Each represent a psychic fragment that companions us during times of transition. And although our myths often thematically tie these great figures to death and the end of physical life, there are traces of the psychopomp anytime consciousness is altered.

They are present when we forsake the sunlit world of ego’s certainty and release into the arms of Hypnos each night. Boundaries melt away in the dreamscape and the kaleidoscopic contents of the depths rush up to meet us. As we awaken, we once again enter the liminal crossroads. Similar states find us when we are lost in reverie, when we are overcome with déjà-vu or destabilized by a powerful complex. Each of these moments reveal the fluidity of our psychology, that we are constantly dancing between realities, where the lines blur between conscious and unconscious.

Jung says that the psyche constellates a psychopomp when ego has reached its limitations. The rigid grip of our ruling attitude falters, and although that may sound terrifying, it actually frees up psychic space for contents that can resource and guide us toward a path of growth.

These helping inner figures often appear during times of strife, hardship and flux, when we are being initiated into a new way of being. This change requires (symbolic) death — the archetypal realm of the psychopomp. Old structures must fall away; outdated behaviors and beliefs are left to wither and deteriorate, eventually producing the fertile ground for rebirth.

And so, when we are caught in the tides of life’s evolutions, we can look toward subtle, transitionary and in-between moments (like falling or awakening from sleep, getting lost in a day dream, etc) to discover the psychopomp’s presence and how it is shaping our journey.

Transformation of the Symbol

Lone Wolf by Alfred Kowalski

“The psychological mechanism that transforms energy is the symbol.”

- C.G. Jung, Structure & Dynamics of the Psyche (CW8)

The wolf (or dog) has been a soul guide for as long as I can recall³. I am quick to affirm the position it holds in my psyche. I am comforted by its presence anytime it appears in waking life or imaginal explorations. I feel a connection that is undeniable. And yet, the spider has stalked in the shadows, ever-present, just like the wolf. In addition to my night terrors, I have had a constant string of strange and unexplainable encounters with spiders. They seem to be drawn to me, if one is in the room, it often ends up right behind me on the wall, in my shoes, even dropping on top of me from the ceiling. Those that have been around me long enough comment on this pattern.

My hypnopompic vision feels like a confrontation with both of these powerful symbols. For too long I have seen them as antagonistic to one another. Each is assigned a firm and polarized meaning — Wolf: good, helps and watches over me; Spider: bad, terrorizes and haunts me.

And yet, one transformed into the other. Does that not imply that they both inhabit a similar space within my psyche? Perhaps, they are different manifestations of the same archetypal psychopomp. If I entertain this thought, it begins to make sense. From the earliest outbreak of strife in my childhood, the spider was present. Each encounter feels like a direct portal to a place of shadow I do not wish to go.

Meaningful development of personality, however, requires that I meet these undesirable aspects. I cannot stay purely in the light, running with the wolves. Although the spider’s image frightens me, it appears to lead me to a place within that I must reconcile. It guides me towards individuation just as surely as does the wolf.

I sense that I am currently in major transition, inwardly and outwardly. This time of stress, leading up to the vision, created the proper conditions for the psychopomp to be met. Further, the lack of emotional reaction allowed me to be with the image long enough for it to change. All too often we recoil from shadow, from a dark figure that feels threatening. If we can build resiliency and stay with the image or psychic content, we can engage it in new ways.

The transformation of this symbol was deeply impactful. It has opened possibilities that I never considered and implies, perhaps, that my long-held fears and shadows may be in flux as well. I am invited to work with the psychopomp in its dual form, as spider and wolf, and seek their guidance as I navigate this time of change.

Join the conversation in the comments:

1. What symbolic figures or creatures have appeared for you during times of stress or transition?

2. Have you experienced the transformation of a powerful symbol or image?

3. Which mythological psychopomp do you feel the most affinity towards?

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1. Relating to the state immediately preceding waking up — from the Greek hypnos ‘sleep’ + pompē ‘sending away’.

2. One Foot in the Land of Woo

3. Read more on this relationship in The Hounds of Diana.