黑料不打烊

Of the many occult symbols within the contemporary mind, the ouroboros is often overlooked or misinterpreted as evil or Satanic. It is visible in alternative jewelry, often misappropriated as ‘viking men’s fashion’ or worse, a hodgepodge of spiritualism strewn together for tattoo art or stationery. In reality, the serpent eating its own tail is an ancient symbol found on ruins throughout the world, among civilizations as early as the Mesopotamians. It is better documented amongst the mythologies of Egypt and Greece; the symbol, of course, is also seen in the aforementioned Norse mythos as well.

The first immediate connection that came to mind – and what began this deep dive – was the Rider-Waite tarot card The World (XXI). The original design, illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith, features a human figure wielding two batons, encircled by a wreath. At each corner are four other images encompassed by clouds: a man, an eagle, a bull, and a lion. Each is representative of the four alchemical elements according to astrological signs (the bull can be interpreted as the Taurus, for instance, making its assigned element Earth, the lion being Leo and fire, etc). The entire piece is symmetrically designed, implying harmony, balance, and unity.  Most importantly, the wreath is unbroken, joined by a red ribbon.

Pamela Colman Smith, The World Tarot Card, 1910, illustration from the Rider-Waite tarot deck. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

It is easy to get lost in the inner working of these illustrations, as so much can be grasped from one image alone. The wreath, however, is what caught my attention first, and was the golden thread from which all other imagery could be explained. In many different cases today, The World card featured an ouroboros in the wreath’s place. Like the other symbols found in the Rider-Waite design, the ouroboros also describes infinity, unity, and a seamless harmony. This coincides with the unique qualities of Earth, its ability to sustain life, and its natural processes of the creatures that inhabit it.

Ouroboros, 1478, from alchemical manuscript Fol. 279 of Codex Parisinus graecus 2327 (copy produced by Theodoros Pelecanos). Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

The ouroboros can be seen in various alchemical references, the most well-known depiction being an illustration by Theodoros Pelecanos from 1478. This is a copy produced by the artist and Folio 279 of the Parisinus graecus 2327. Held in the National library of France, Pelecanos’s work is the only copy of these alchemical works to exist in known history. The continued relevance of symbols like the world-eating serpent is only actualized by the resurgence of occult thought in the 19th century, by fanatics like tarot readers, seance leaders, and mystiques of the enlightenment.   

In the late 18th century (potentially 1757, according to Dr. Stephen Skinner and David Rankine’s translations) Clavis Inferni sive magia alba et nigra approbata Metratona was published. Originally written in Latin by M.L Cyprianus. The work roughly translates to “the Key of Hell with white and black magic, proven by Metatron.” Within this book is a series of illustrations, most notably a watercolor drawing of an ouroboros, wearing a crown.

Ouroboros, c. 1800, pen and watercolor drawing from Clavis Inferni sive magia alba et nigra approbata Metratona, also known as the Black Book. Courtesy of Encyclopedia Britannica

Found in the introduction of the English translation is a brief explanation as to its appearance:        

From the fifteenth century dragons were often represented as winged serpents, like that seen in the present image, especially in alchemical texts. Many different attributions may be made to the dragon, but the most obvious from an alchemical viewpoint, is its cyclic and transformatory nature.

These “black books” of Cyprianus were common in Scandinavia, standing alongside the image of their own mythology’s world serpent Jormangandr. It is no coincidence that Jormangandr is also depicted as a serpent eating its own tail. According to myth, the serpent is so big its being is wrapped around the entire world. It is often a creature of destruction, believed to be present during the Norse end-times of Ragnarok. It is also a creature birthed from jotun, primordial beings who were ruling over creation before even the Gods. As such he is a symbol of both creation and destruction, beginnings and endings that often blur into each other. It is no surprise that Jormangandr was described as an ouroboros himself.

Jormungandr, c. 1680, from the illuminated manuscript Edda oblongata, which retells the stories found in Snorri’s Prose Edda. Courtesy of worldhistory.org

In Snorri Sturluson's Prose Edda, Jormungandr is depicted in a conflict with Thor. This moment was illustrated in the Edda oblongata (a 17th-century illuminated manuscript of the Prose Edda).

The Midgard Serpent opened its mouth and swallowed the ox head. The hook dug into the gums of its mouth, and when the serpent felt this, he snapped back so hard that both of Thor’s fists slammed against the gunwale. Thor now became angry and, taking on his divine strength, he strained so hard that both his feet pushed through the bottom of the boat. Using the sea floor to brace himself, he began pulling the serpent up on board. It can be said that no one has seen a more terrifying sight than this: Thor, narrowing his eyes at the serpent, while the serpent spits out poison and stares straight back from below. It is told that the giant Hymir changed colour. He grew pale and feared for his life when he saw the serpent and also the sea rushing in and out of the boat.

The enlightenment period has fused these varying cultures and ideologies into messy arrangements, Satanic grimoires, all to fill a desire to reach a fantastical “ancient” knowledge from “primitive” societies of the past. It is no surprise, in turn, that the symbol of the serpent eating its own tail alone is its own maze of contradictions, cultures, and belief systems. It most definitely could explain the escapades of the early 20th century as well, with the rise of tall tales and cryptids here in the United States, to the usurping of Germanic folklore and storytelling by the Nazi party.

Like any other symbol found in the occult, the ouroboros and its meaning can get scrambled in a game of telephone across regions and time. What began as a simple metaphor for alchemical processes (what we now understand as early chemistry) became an extrusion of mysticism and supernatural belief systems. Regardless of this fact, there is nonetheless a greater unity to the picture these cultures sought to illustrate: a better understanding of the world around them. Like the serpent itself – the process of life and death, creation and destruction – are both instances of human experience. Whether it be a Victorian occultist or an Egyptian prophet, there was a greater mission to seek understanding of the world.

Those that came before us, as usual, have an interesting way of informing the lives that come after us. It is no coincidence that – for a second time – the rise of the occult and its symbology is becoming a bigger conversation, amidst change, innovation, and chaos. Like the serpent, there is no end or beginning to the stories that humans wish to prescribe to the world. When even the beginning may seem elusive to our understanding, it is truly fascinating that we still manage to preserve these connections and images so that some thread of understanding can be pulled through.

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