Jung’s Definition and Meaning of the Mandala
In the complex and deeply influential psychological framework developed by Carl Gustav Jung, the concept of the symbol holds a position of paramount importance. Unlike a mere sign, which points to something known and definite, a symbol, in Jungian terms, is the best possible expression for something essentially unknown or unconscious, pregnant with meaning that transcends rational grasp. It acts as a bridge between the conscious mind and the vast, mysterious depths of the unconscious psyche, serving as a vital instrument in the process of psychological development and transformation known as individuation.
Symbols emerge spontaneously from the unconscious through various channels: dreams, fantasies, visions, artistic creations, and the symbolic systems embedded within myths, religions, folklore, and esoteric traditions like alchemy. They are not arbitrary inventions but arise from the archetypal structures common to all humanity. Jung saw these symbols as natural phenomena, psychic facts that demand attention and interpretation if an individual is to achieve greater self-understanding and psychic balance. They often serve a compensatory function, bringing to conscious awareness aspects of the psyche—feelings, potentials, or perspectives—that are neglected or repressed by the dominant conscious attitude.
A key function of the symbol in Jung’s work is its role as a “uniting symbol.” The psyche is often experienced as a field of tension between opposing forces: conscious and unconscious, rational and irrational, masculine and feminine (animus/anima), good and evil (ego/shadow), spirit and matter. The uniting symbol emerges precisely from this tension, offering a potential resolution or synthesis that transcends the conflict without negating the reality of the opposites. Jung found parallels to this concept in various cultural and spiritual traditions. He noted how in Hindu philosophy, “Brahman is the union and dissolution of all opposites,” representing a state beyond cognitive grasp, attainable through a process involving what he termed “libido symbols” (CW6 ¶330). Similarly, he recognized this principle in Chinese philosophy, particularly in the interplay of Yang and Yin, where the goal is not the victory of one over the other but their dynamic balance. Alchemy, a tradition Jung studied extensively, provided a rich tapestry of uniting symbols, culminating in the image of the “chymical wedding” or hierosgamos, the union of the supreme opposites, often represented as King and Queen, Sol and Luna, or male and female, resulting in an incorruptible synthesis, the lapis philosophorum or Philosopher’s Stone (CW12 ¶43).
Alchemy, for Jung, was not merely a primitive form of chemistry but a symbolic projection of the individuation process onto matter. Its texts and images abound with symbols representing psychic transformation. The prima materia, the chaotic starting point, could be symbolized by Saturn devouring his children, representing the undifferentiated, potentially destructive power of the unconscious. The transformation process itself was often depicted through symbols like the “union of water and fire,” representing the reconciliation of fundamental opposites (CW12 ¶424). The goal, the lapis, was frequently symbolized by the homo philosophicus, an inner, perfected human being, sometimes identified with Christ as the “second Adam” or the Anthropos, the archetypal Man (CW12 ¶476). This figure represented wholeness and immortality, the “One that dieth not, and bringeth alive anything dead.” The alchemical tree, the Arbor philosophica, served as a “symbol of the stages in the transformation process,” illustrating the growth and development inherent in the work. Even specific creatures held symbolic weight, such as the fish, which could symbolize the arcane substance or the Self, echoing its significance in Christian symbolism and beyond, often appearing in contexts suggesting guidance from the depths, as in the motif of the “helpful animals.” Jung cautioned, however, against mistaking inferior alchemical texts focused solely on gold-making for the “good books” which revealed the “industry, care, and visible mental struggles of the author” grappling with these profound psychic realities.
Dreams are the most immediate and personal source of symbols. Jungian analysis places great emphasis on understanding the symbolic language of dreams as messages from the unconscious. Common figures appearing symbolically in dreams include the shadow and the anima/animus. The shadow represents the repressed, unconscious, and often negative aspects of the personality, the “dark side” that the conscious ego prefers not to acknowledge. It might appear as a sinister figure, a “villain,” or even, as in the film The Student of Prague, as a “double coming away, wiping blood from his sword,” acting out impulses the conscious personality denies. Jung noted how “the shadow is the sthula [gross] aspect of everything,” and acknowledging it is crucial, for “a man who is possessed by his shadow is always standing in his own light and falling into his own traps.” Yet, the shadow is not purely negative; integrating its energy is essential for wholeness. A dream might show the shadow behaving positively, perhaps “marrying the animus to the patient,” indicating a degree of acceptance and transformation.
The anima (in men) and animus (in women) are archetypal figures representing the contrasexual soul-image, the bridge to the collective unconscious. They often appear in dreams symbolized by figures embodying qualities complementary to the dreamer’s conscious attitude. The animus, for instance, might appear as a collective of “marching men,” a helpful guide, a “prince” representing the “superior man in himself,” or a problematic figure. One dream showed an animus with a “doublefaced” quality, “the front façade is black, but behind he has a second face which is white,” symbolizing a split or repression (CW6 ¶347). The animus can hold secret power, symbolized perhaps by teeth turning into “red jewels,” suggesting transformation from destructive potential to valuable feeling. An improperly functioning animus, detached from conscious control, can gain “autonomous life” if aspects of the personality are unconsciously “left… to him.” The anima might appear as a “captive anima, the high-born princess” in a fairytale, symbolizing the soul held captive by unconscious forces (like a “sinister father-imago”). Encountering and integrating these figures through understanding their symbolic representations is a central task of individuation.
Symbols are not limited to personifications. Animals frequently carry symbolic weight in dreams and myths. A “laughing goat” might lead downwards, signifying a descent guided by Dionysian instinct. A lion might appear on a snowy peak, symbolizing perhaps courage or the power of the Self encountered in isolation. The “three-legged, all-knowing horse” in the fairytale represents “unconscious components of the differentiated functions,” while obtaining a four-legged horse symbolizes integrating a more complete, grounded power. Birds, like the raven (“the celebrated theriomorphic figure of the devil”), can symbolize spiritual or instinctual forces, often ambivalent. Fishes, as noted in alchemy, frequently symbolize the Self emerging from the depths, as seen in a vision where “a golden fish… shouted in a loud voice: Behold the wall of the cave,” leading to the discovery of a “golden disk” (perhaps the solar plexus, a center of unconscious energy).
Objects and locations also function symbolically. A key can be a “master-key,” a symbol of unlocking psychic barriers or gaining access to forbidden realms, potentially representing a solution to the “complex of her internment.” A cauldron seething with fire can symbolize transformation, often associated with witchcraft or the unconscious feminine. A building might symbolize the goal of attainment, but attempting to enter improperly, like climbing over a fence “as if he were a burglar,” reveals a flawed approach. A cave often symbolizes the unconscious itself, a place of descent and potential rebirth or discovery, like the “abdominal cave” where the dreamer finds fire and beholds the solar disk. A high mountain can symbolize isolation, spiritual attainment, or a challenge.
Religious and mythological symbols were of great interest to Jung, who saw them as collective expressions of archetypal realities. The cross, long predating Christianity (“Le Signe de la Croix avant le Christianisme”), carries profound symbolic weight, often representing the union of opposites or suffering leading to transformation. Its appearance on the animus in a dream suggests a repressed spiritual or suffering aspect. Phallic symbolism, explored in “Ancient Symbol Worship,” points to the creative, generative power of the libido. Figures like Christ were seen by Jung not just historically but symbolically, resonating with the archetype of the Self and the homo philosophicus of alchemy. Fairytales, like the one involving the swineherd, princess, raven, and hunter, reveal “with unusual clarity the essentially antithetical nature of the spirit archetype” and map out symbolic journeys of consciousness development, anima integration, and confrontation with the shadow.
Interpreting symbols requires sensitivity and a “plastic imagination.” A symbol’s meaning is never fixed or exhausted by a single interpretation. While archetypal parallels provide context, the personal significance for the individual dreamer or creator is paramount. Jung warned against sterile intellectualism or literalism. The alchemists’ projection onto matter, while psychologically advantageous in preventing identification (“the artifex should not identify himself with the figures in the work”), ultimately failed because they sought a literal “chemical product.” Similarly, simply analyzing a symbol intellectually is insufficient; its meaning must be experienced and integrated emotionally to facilitate genuine transformation. This integration requires acknowledging the reality of the unconscious and its power, symbolized often by rituals or ceremonies which help channel libido away from habitual paths and focus psychic energy, whether in “primitive” cultures using “magical dances” or modern society laying a foundation stone.
Ultimately, symbols are indispensable mediators in the dialogue between the conscious and unconscious. They arise from the depths, carrying messages vital for psychic health and growth. They express the inexpressible, point towards potential wholeness, and guide the complex, often paradoxical journey of individuation. By respecting the symbol, engaging with its multivalent meanings, and integrating the insights it offers, the individual can move towards a more balanced, conscious, and complete existence, recognizing, as Jung did, the “continuity of culture and intellectual history” embedded within the very structure of the psyche.