The Psychology of Animals

Animals have been an integral part of human existence since our earliest origins. They are deeply ingrained within us and play a crucial role in the unconscious. Our ancestors created prehistoric cave paintings of animals in the dark with limited visibility, making the earliest art and reflecting early consciousness. This act of "naming the animals" parallels Adam’s task given by God in the Garden of Eden. The human dominion over the animal kingdom is found in the ancient motif of The Master of Animals, which shows a human taming wildlife. In the Middle Ages, bestiaries were popular medieval books featuring

animals and mythical creatures like dragons, unicorns, and phoenixes. Each was given a symbolic meaning in the context of Christianity. For example, the pelican was associated with self-sacrifice. Young pelicans strike their mother with their beaks, and she strikes back, killing them. After mourning for three days, she wounds herself in the breast, sprinkling the dead birds with blood, and thus reviving them. The word animal was hardly used before the 1600s and then mostly by scholars. Animals were called “beasts”, “creatures”, etc. The word animal derives from the Latin word anima (breath or soul). The animal is any living

being which breathes, that includes human beings, although it is colloquially used to refer to non-human animals. Animals were and are our prey, predators, helpers, and companions. Today, many of us have animal pets as members of our family, and their presence have been noted to have therapeutic effects. American psychologist James Hillman writes: “The animals must have known Adam as well... We too display a psychic image… We are each an open book to the animal eye. Especially to our household pets, who can call you on your state of soul before you have any notion of it… Not

only are pets part of the larger family, but they are intimately familiar observers of your unconscious presentation in everyday household life. They were the first psychoanalysts. Is that the psychological reason for the domestication of dogs and cats, of birds, pigs, cows, elephants, goats? The animals could make us aware of ourselves… When we are present to the animal Adam is there, and Eve, and we are in the Garden from which the animals, unlike us, were never ejected.” Animals have a special relationship with the divine. The Ainu shamans of Japan consider animals as gods in disguise, who

live in their own god-worlds, invisible to human eyes, but who also share a common territory with humans. Many primitive tribes wear animal masks in their sacred ceremonies, and have animal totems, where a certain animal can act as a spiritual guide to the person or the community. In Native American culture, a neophyte is accompanied by animal spirits during his or her initiation to become a shaman. These act as psychopomps, guiding one’s soul through the untamed lands. Swiss psychiatrist and psychologist Carl Jung frequently remarked that animals embodied the divine aspect of the human psyche. Animals are deeply

connected to a “secret” order within nature itself and the absolute knowledge of the unconscious, living according to their own inner laws beyond human notions of good and evil. And herein lies the superiority of the animal. Jung writes: “We forget that the animal is the most pious thing that exists, the one thing besides plants that really fulfills its destiny… the will of God. We are of the devil because we are always deviating, always living something of our own. Animals live exactly as they were meant to live.” Animals accept their fate with resilience: losing a leg, they

adapt; becoming blind, they continue despite the hardship, and will probably starve. In contrast, our greater consciousness allows us to question and rebel against fate, leading to deeper suffering as we struggle with the meaning of our trials and ask, "Why has this happened to me?" This awareness can make suffering feel more profound. Perhaps animals are enlightened because they live fully in the moment, grasping a sense of wholeness instinctively rather than intellectually. In that way they might be "closer" to God. Animals also evoke child-like joy in us, constellating the divine child archetype. When we fulfil our true

purpose, this sense of completeness can return in old age. As quite an old man, speaking of the limitations of age, Jung confesses: “Yet there is so much that fills me: plants, animals, clouds, day and night, and the eternal in man. The more uncertain I have felt about myself, the more there has grown up in me a feeling of kinship with all things.” With animals the continual succession of generations brings no change. They appear to share the fundamental nature of creation: its repetitious, rhythmic stability. Animals are eternal forms walking around. In other words, the origin of

the species is outside historical, empirical knowledge. They are themselves the origins, the revelations of eternal forms, hence why they have always been considered sacred and close to God. In Christianity, God has His animal, the dove, Jesus had his, the lamb, and the four evangelists were associated with man, lion, ox or bull, and eagle; just as the four sons of Horus were man, jackal, baboon, and falcon. Jung stated, “over the animal is the god; with the god, is the god’s animal.” In various religions, animals are revered as gods. In Egyptian mythology, the falcon represents Horus, the

ibis or baboon symbolises Thoth, and the jackal is linked to Anubis, the guide to the underworld. In Hinduism, deities have animal mounts: Shiva has a bull, Ganesha a mouse, and Durga a tiger or lion. The animal is also a messenger of the gods and people recognised that the divine being was present within the animal. The reason we must give so much attention to animals in our unconscious is that they represent forms of life that are still in touch with a form of absolute knowledge. They are the ones who can lead us to this source of

natural life. Theriomorphic symbols, that is, gods or beings in animal form, are very common in dreams and unconscious manifestations. This symbolism arises out of the primal, chthonic aspect of nature – that deep source in the unconscious that was reduced to an aberration by Christianity yet set at the centre of a process of redemption by the alchemists. When animals appear in our unconscious, they typically symbolise our instincts. Though it is more complicated than that, as each animal has a different instinctual impulse, which is based on biological survival, but also on instinctual images or archetypes. It is

the latter that provide us with the symbolic patterns of the collective unconscious – and help us to understand our own psyche. We belong to the animal kingdom, and knowing this is part of the individuation process, the journey towards wholeness. Yet, we seem to have forgotten our roots. Each of us is like an ark, a microcosm containing the animals. The 3rd century Christian scholar Origen writes: "Understand that you have within yourself herds of cattle… flocks of sheep and flocks of goats… and the birds of the air also are within you. Do not be surprised if we

say that these are within you, but understand that you are another little world.” According to Jungian analyst Marie-Louise von Franz, animal stories seem to represent the deepest and most ancient form of archetypal tales. We anthropomorphise animals because they reveal certain emotions in us, that is, our animal instincts. What is out there displays our inner self, so the study of animals affords great self-knowledge. From a psychological standpoint, animals appearing in stories are symbolic animals, for the animal is the carrier of the projection of human psychic factors. It is important to emphasise that projection occurs unconsciously, an

idea that is frequently overlooked. Each animal appears with a certain quality, such as: the cunning fox, the dangerous wolf, the magical and transformative frog, the noble lion, the intelligent crow, the wise owl, the protecting bear, etc. The 6th century BC Greek story teller, Aesop, is credited with a collection of fables featuring anthropomorphic animal characters. Symbolic animals are recurring characters in fairy tales, which von Franz considers the purest and simplest expression of collective unconscious psychic processes. These animals often appear as symbols of the Self. She writes: “From the fact that the Self appears in animal form

in the dreams and visions of medicine men and creative individuals, it is clear that it is first perceived as a purely instinctive unconscious force, greater and more powerful than the ego but entirely unconscious. It embodies the complete wisdom of nature yet does not possess the light of human consciousness.” Our unconscious projection of animals onto the stars reflects their deep wisdom and profound connection to the human psyche. Symbolic animals are, of course, an application of human terms projected onto an animal that is simply being itself and follows its own laws. We do not pretend to study

animals just as they are. In our case, it is much more important for us to realise the impression each animal makes on the human being. Therefore, we are primarily concerned with the animal’s psychological meaning. However, the biological facts must also be correctly considered, such as if the animal belongs to a warm or cold-blooded species, if they are vertebrates like mammals, birds, reptiles, fish – who possess a cerebrospinal system (the brain and the spinal cord), or invertebrates such as insects, crustaceans, snails, worms, jellyfish, etc. For instance, a lizard, who is cold-blooded, represents the deeper layers of

our psyche, a sort of completely unconscious soul. Thus, the study of animal biology is important for the analysis of our own unconscious. It is an ancient idea that we are, in a mysterious way, connected with nature, animals, and other human beings by the anima mundi or world soul. The more we understand nature and all life, the more we understand ourselves. The helpful animal motif is typical in fairy tales. When all seems lost for the hero, an animal appears that shows him something very self-evident which he has not seen. That is the function of the instinct,

which helps in situations where nothing else helps. So, people who can follow their instincts are much better protected than by all the wisdom of the world. If we learn to trust our own experience, it will, according to the natural law, lead us to a state of completeness, to what we really are. Therefore, it is an important question for the psychologist whether a series of emotions is in accordance with the instincts – represented by the animals. Friedrich Nietzsche writes: “And behold! An eagle swept through the air in wide circles, and on it hung a serpent, not

like a prey, but like a friend: for it kept itself coiled round the eagle’s neck. ‘They are mine animals’, said Zarathustra, and rejoiced in his heart. ‘The proudest animal under the sun, and the wisest animal under the sun… They want to know where Zarathustra still liveth. Verily, do I still live? More dangerous have I found it among men than among animals; in dangerous paths goeth Zarathustra. Let mine animals lead me!’” In Grimm’s fairy tale The Two Travellers, a shoemaker blinds a tailor and abandons him. After the tailor’s sight is restored, he is terribly hungry but

spares each animal that begs for its life. At the King’s Court, the shoemaker sets the tailor impossible tasks, but the spared animals help him succeed. The tailor is rewarded for his kindness, while the shoemaker is punished for his cruelty. If we treat our instincts well, they will always help us in difficult times, while repression can turn them into threatening forces. This often appears in nightmares as a wild beast chasing or attacking us. The animal reflects our neglect of our true nature. The Self mirrors the ego’s attitude towards it. Jung writes: “We know that the mask

of the unconscious is not rigid—it reflects the face we turn towards it. Hostility lends it a threatening aspect; friendliness softens its features.” In all of her years studying fairy tales, von Franz observed one unfailing rule: anyone who earns the gratitude of animals invariably wins out. A strange twist in fairy tales involves the animal instructing the hero to kill it after providing aid. And the hero must trust his animal instinct so wholly that he is willing to do so. Once one has fully embraced one’s animal instincts, they must be sacrificed for the true self, the whole

person, to emerge. Instincts give life meaning and harmony, but overindulgence can lead to losing consciousness, which implies possession by the animal. The greatest consciousness is not a regression to the animal level, but a return to it on a higher level. “It is the animal who knows the way, the way home. It is the animal within us, the primitive, the dark brother, the shadow soul, who is the guide.” Certain animals may appear more frequently and hold special significance for us. However, it is above all the animals that appear in unconscious manifestations (dreams, active imagination, visions, etc.)

that interest the psychologist, which usually point to an important insight. Jung writes of a synchronicity: “I walk with a woman patient in a wood. She tells me about the first dream in her life that had made an everlasting impression upon her. She had seen a spectral fox coming down the stairs in her parental home. At this moment a real fox comes out of the trees not 40 yards away and walks quietly on the path ahead of us for several minutes. The animal behaves as if it were a partner in the human situation.” In her book,

The Archetypal Symbolism of Animals, Jungian analyst Barbara Hannah explores the symbolic meaning of some domestic and wild animals. While it's tempting to classify animals for easy reference when they appear in dreams, each animal has multiple meanings based on personal context. Jung differentiates between “Big Dreams,” which stem from archetypes in the collective unconscious, and “Little Dreams,” which arise from complexes in the personal unconscious. The latter are the most common, although dreams can also contain elements from both sources. When an animal appears in a dream, start by exploring your personal associations and how the animal relates to

your current attitude or situation in life. For example, a starved horse might symbolise the “unlived life”, neglect of what truly matters. Afterwards, use amplification by examining the animal’s biological facts, its role in myths, and fairy tales. This process amplifies the personal content to a collective level for deeper understanding. We’ll now explore the archetypal symbolism of animals discussed in Hannah’s book: the cat, dog, horse, bull, cow, lion, and serpent, to understand their role in the unconscious. For more animal symbolism, consider reading The Book of Symbols: Reflections on Archetypal Images by the publisher Taschen, it is a

treasure trove of symbolism. Starting with the archetypal symbolism of the cat, it is considered the least domesticated of our household pets. Archaeological evidence shows a burial ground in Cyprus of a child buried with a cat approximately 9500 years ago. The domestication of cats likely began in the Near East, in the region known as the Fertile Crescent. The development of agriculture led to surplus grain storage, attracting vermin; cats helped control these pests and reduce disease. Domestic cats were highly revered in ancient Egypt, dating back 4,000 years. Many prayers or charms were exclusively for the protection and

well-being of cats. They were practically household gods. Countless mummified cats have been discovered in archaeological excavations, as well as cat-shaped amulets, and sculptures. In the city of Bubastis was the temple of Bastet, the cat goddess of fertility and protection, and cats were her earthly embodiments. One of the most popular celebrations in ancient Egypt was dedicated in honour to this goddess, rituals were performed, people danced and played music and more wine was consumed on that day than was the case throughout the year. It was a grave sin in ancient Egypt to hit a cat, and a

serious crime to kill one. The historian Diodorus of Sicily reports the prompt death of a Roman soldier after he accidently slew a cat while stationed in Egypt. In H.P. Lovecraft’s short story The Cats of Ulthar, it became a law that in the city of Ulthar, no man may kill a cat. The story emphasises the mystical and enigmatic nature of cats, attributing them with supernatural powers. Cats are almost universally associated with magic and witches. The hook for this projection onto cats is probably the way that they, like serpents, can cast a sort of spell on their

prey. A bird, for instance, is sometimes totally unable to fly away if it is caught in the spell of a cat’s eyes. Cats are stealthy and can strike with lightning speed and use surprise tactics in an unpredictable fashion. The domestic cat is only one branch of a large family of felines which includes lions, tigers, leopards, panthers, and so on. Members of the cat family hunt in an extraordinarily clever way, pretending, for instance, to be asleep or remain motionless for long periods, so as to deceive their prey into thinking them harmless. Here they demonstrate strategic deception,

and control of hunger and greed. Bastet was originally a fierce lioness, and is related to Sekhmet, a lioness and warrior goddess, the vengeful manifestation of Ra’s power, whose fiery breath was connected with the hot wind from the desert. She is believed to have caused plagues, and was also invoked to ward off disease. Hannah compares this wild and raging aspect of the cat instinct with the following example: “An Englishman with a very pronounced cat anima [the feminine soul in man] used to go to bed feeling quite pleasant and then wake up in the night in such

a Sekhmet mood, after which everything went wrong. His state usually began by his being furious with someone; he then tormented himself with negative thoughts about every friend and everything in his life… Once when he went back to sleep after such a bad mood, he dreamed that he was an adolescent boy and was tying a tin can onto the tail of a cat. Evidently the trouble began with his provoking or even torturing his anima cat, and she responded with a Sekhmet mood of an utterly negative and destructive character.” Compared to other animals, it took a lot

more time for the cat to become domesticated because domesticity does not seem to be fully compatible to its character. Generally speaking, the cat’s innate sense of attachment is more oriented toward a specific location rather than an individual person. Lack of responsibility is a leading characteristic of cats. If someone broke into your house, the average cat would let its owner be killed and would settle down in the same house with the killer, provided it was well treated. If a cat notices that you are in a bad mood, it may just disappear. Cats teach us about emotional

detachment. Therefore, the non-identification with emotion is important in the cat instinct. Jung remarked that one should never use emotion unless one can just as well not use it, for otherwise one is possessed by it. If you can say: “Yes, I am in an awful rage”, then you are no longer identical with your emotion; you see your own rage with a certain objectivity. But if you cannot do this, then you are its prey; you become a wild animal dissolved in unconsciousness. It is the move from ego to Self. Awareness of the Self is the protection par

excellence against the danger of being swept away and possessed by moods and emotions. Cats are symbols of coziness, laziness and relaxation. We might even call cats somewhat Epicurean, choosing the deliberate, continually renewed choice of relaxation and serenity. The integration of the cat archetype is important for those who are workaholics and take life too seriously. A cat is a model for taking life as it comes, keeping calm about it, and finding the coziest places to stretch out and rest. If a lazy person dreams of a sleeping cat, you may be pretty sure the dream will in

some way end rather badly. This is a complete paradox, for relaxation is one of the most desirable things in life, but laziness can lead straight to the devil. The meaning would be quite different if someone who was too tense had the same dream. Unlike many animals, a cat can support itself alone for years. The cat – of all domestic animals – is the one that we can understand as a symbol of fierce independence and self-reliance, an archetypal image that can help us most in regaining touch with this aspect. The association of cats with women and

dogs with men is practically universal. In her book, The Cat: A Tale of Feminine Redemption, von Franz explores the cat archetype in a German fairy tale where a princess is transformed into a cat, symbolising the feminine psyche. The prince represents the animus (the masculine soul in woman), who aids in her transformation, illustrating that both masculine and feminine elements are essential for psychic wholeness. Finally, one can hardly overemphasise the importance of the playful element in the cat instinct. Lovecraft writes: “The superior imaginative inner life of the cat, resulting in superior self-possession, is well known… A cat…

is never without the potentialities of contentment. Like a superior man, he knows how to be alone and happy. Once he looks about and finds no one to amuse him, he settles down to the task of amusing himself.” Moving now to the dog, it was likely domesticated between 30,000 to 40,000 years ago. The ancient wolves, now extinct, are the common ancestors of modern grey wolves and domestic dogs – who diverged from their ancestor through different evolutionary paths. Some wolves remained in the wild, and others became less aggressive and more sociable with humans as they shared mutual

benefits, wolves would help humans with hunting, and in exchange receive a consistent and reliable food source from left-overs, as well as shelter. The dog is much more domesticated and dependent on us, and is thus easier to train or educate than the cat. Since dogs have become so humanised, they are by no means a purely animal instinct. It is not easy to say anything about the original psychic qualities of dogs because of the extreme degree of training. They have been trained to be unusually brave and even fierce, but their innate quality at the bottom of their

whole development with man is their docility, responsiveness and willingness to learn. They can be trained to retrieve, hunt, protect, guard, search, lead the blind, perform all sorts of tricks, used to draw sledges, etc. The dog is, above all, a loyal friend, man’s best friend. A poignant example is Hachikō, a Japanese dog who was accustomed to meet his master at the train station every day. One day, the master did not appear. He had died unexpectedly. The dog, who did not know of his death, continued to await his masters’ return, appearing precisely when the train was due

at the station. This lasted for almost a decade. On his death, a monument was erected in his honour, being a worldwide example of utmost loyalty. It is interesting to see then, as Hannah points out, that many creation myths in Asia and Eastern Europe claim it was a dog that first led man to the devil. This myth not only shows the dangers of temptation, but also the betrayal of man at the beginning of his history by his later most loyal friend, the dog. Myths, of course, represent archetypal motifs in the collective psyche. This myth reverses the

story of the Garden of Eden, where, although the serpent or Devil is present, it was man who ultimately betrayed God. He was the troublemaker. Here, it is the instinct that disobeys God, and thus betrays man. Both versions, to be sure, have the devil element. Psychologically, the development of human consciousness requires a form of Promethean disobedience. In Native American folklore, fire was stolen and given to humans by a coyote as a gift for mankind. The coyote, however, also appears as a promiscuous, cunning, shape-shifting trickster, often engaging in mischief and using his powers for his own amusement.

The coyote, dog, wolf, jackal, as well as the fox (a typical trickster figure in Eurasia), all belong to the same genus, the Canidae, which comes from the Latin word canis (dog). While wild animals have no conflict between their natural urges and an “ought” (every inner urge is “good”), this seems to differ in domestic animals. Dogs, for instance, show a bad conscience. Jung wrote a bold and unusual statement for a thinker of his era: “Even domestic animals, to whom we erroneously deny a conscience, have complexes and moral reactions.” In Man Meets Dog, Austrian zoologist Konrad Lorenz

explores the link between animal behaviour and moral sense, suggesting morality is rooted in the instincts. He recounts how his bulldog, Bully, was jealous of when a second dog arrived, and fought with him. During the altercation, Bully accidently bit Lorenz’s hand, and upon seeing the blood, he entered into shock and showed deep guilt, refusing to eat and suffering for weeks, despite Lorenz's immediate forgiveness and the absence of prior fear of punishment. Dogs will be loyal so long as they have a strong feeling tie to us. This is the decisive urge. They are loyal because the original

elastic band to their home is attached to us; we are the centre of their lives. As their well-being depends on their masters’ survival, they would readily risk their life to save their master. The dog also appears as a symbol of the guide of souls due to its presence in both the living and the dead realms. As natural scavengers, dogs have historically fed on corpses from battlefields or those who perished from famine and disease. This association with the dead made them, in a sense, vessels for the departed. In psychological situations, such as those symbolised by the

night sea journey, the dog is widely regarded as the one who knows how to guide us through the darkness of our inner conflict. The Egyptian canine-headed god Anubis, guides souls to the afterlife and determines their fate based on the weight of their hearts. Upuaut, the brother of Anubis, is a wolf deity whose name literally means “opener of the ways”, that is, opening the ways to the Underworld for the souls to pass. In the Videvdat, a Zoroastrian collection of texts, the souls must cross the Chinvat Bridge upon death, which is guarded by a woman with two

four-eyed dogs, while Yama, the Hindu god of death, has two-four eyed dogs who track down those who are about to die, and guard the path to Yamaloka, the Hindu equivalent of hell, in order to be rendered judgment by their master. It seems that while on earth the dog is more or less the possession of man, in myth he practically decides man’s fate after death. In Greek mythology, the three-headed dog Cerberus guards the gates of Hades. Psychologically, this aspect of the dog symbolises the repression of instincts, which then become a fierce barrier to our unconscious, manifesting

in dreams as angry animals. That is the Cerberus aspect, the instincts become an angry watchdog preventing access to the unconscious until the underlying anger is addressed. Those with such emotional blocks often have neglected something crucial. The dog is also a healing symbol. In ancient Greece, dogs, along with snakes, were associated with the healing temples dedicated to Asclepius, the god of healing. Patients in these sanctuaries often reported dreams of Asclepius, either in human form applying ointment to their wounds or theriomorphically as a dog or snake licking and healing them. These experiences, known as theophanies, were personal

encounters with the deity. The Epidaurian Miracle Inscriptions provide examples of this healing, such as one noting that a blind child was cured by a temple dog, and another stating that a sacred dog healed a child’s head tumour. The inscriptions show that the role of the dogs in the cult of Asclepius goes beyond that of the watchdog. Like serpents, they actually played a part in the healing ceremonies and were, so to speak, the living vehicle for the healing power of God. Psychologically, this healing is to be found in ourselves, but it often needs great humility to

reach this, just as it would to submit to being licked by a dog. The horse, an ancient animal predating human history symbolises more than just energy and libido—despite its association with horsepower. The energy symbolised by the horse is more specific. Its natural reaction is always instantaneous flight. It gallops off if anything frightens it, or if anything is uncanny. That the horse has largely overcome this natural tendency reflects its remarkable ability to transform and adapt. One need only think of the battlefield and the amazing courage of cavalry horses. No animal has ever worked quite like the

horse, nor stood by, helped, and even fought at the side of man for millennia. It is the obedient worker par excellence. We take pride in comparing ourselves with horses with expressions such as “he works like a horse”, or “she is a workhorse.” The horse is indeed a helper, but also a victim, with millions having died in combat, harsh conditions, and from overwork. In Tschiffely’s Ride, the author recounts his journey of ten thousand miles with two remarkably intelligent horses. In one instance, one of the horses slipped down a precipice and by sheer luck caught on a

tree. Despite the danger and the natural instinct to panic, the horse remained perfectly still, allowing the man to remove the saddle packs and safely drag it back onto the path. Horses have an acute sensitivity to human emotions. For instance, they can become agitated if their rider is anxious, guide lost wanderers, or sense when a ride is imminent even before any visible preparation starts. In his book The Other Side, Alfred Kubin depicts an almost starved and maddened horse galloping around in wild panic as it is imprisoned in the catacombs beneath a town. This horse, lost in

the labyrinth of the collective unconscious, never finds its way out and goes mad. Although an extreme example, it vividly illustrates the great danger of being disconnected from our horse instinct, which becomes a frenzied and wild horse imprisoned deep within our unconscious, desperately seeking an escape but finding none. Plato famously describes the soul as the charioteer driving two horses. The white horse represents reason and obedience, leading towards the divine, while the black horse symbolises appetite, it is wild and unruly, pulling downward. This is a marvelous image of the opposites in our soul that lead to our

greatest difficulties. Hannah relates a Turkestan fairy tale called The Magic Horse. In it, the horse becomes a symbol of the Self in which the whole process of individuation takes place. After a djinn succeeds in taking the princess and intends to eat her, a magic horse appears and defeats it. Hannah writes: “The horse then commands the princess to kill it and put its head on one side, its legs in the four directions of the compass, and throw away its entrails. She is then to sit with her children under the ribs. After she mustered the courage and

carried out the task, the legs then turn into beautiful golden poplars with emerald leaves, the entrails become villages and fields, the ribs a beautiful golden castle, and the head a silvery stream of water. After a long time, the king finds her and they live together in this mandala kingdom that originally was the horse.” The bull, the cow, and the ox represent the very foundations upon which our cultures were built. The domestication of cattle marked a monumental advance for humanity. The bull, symbolising male generative power, was sacred to the Egyptians. It was worshipped as Apis, a

fertility god who later became associated with Ptah, the creator god. The motif of bull sacrifice is widespread throughout the world. Mithraism, a mystery religion with esoteric rites, was popular in the Roman Empire from the 1st to the 4th century AD. However, it was suppressed and largely eradicated after Christianity became the official religion. Mithraism featured the tauroctony, where Mithras slays a bull, symbolic of a fertility rite. The bull’s sacrifice was seen as creating new life, richer and more fertile than before. From the bull’s body sprang all the useful herbs and plants. From its spinal cord came

wheat that gives us our bread, and from its blood the vine that produces the sacred drink of the Mysteries. Only through the sacrifice of the bull could a new spiritual world come forth. The cow is a quintessential symbol of motherhood. The Egyptian goddesses Nut and Hathor are associated with the cow. In India, the cow is revered as Kamadhenu, a goddess who embodies various deities and can fulfill any desire. These are all representations of the divine mother archetype. The products of the cow belong to the most invaluable treasures of humankind, symbolising its life-giving and nurturing aspects.

The cow’s maternal nature is deeply embedded in the archetypal feminine. It strives to protect everything weak and growing; it is more interested in the helpless than the strong. Its care is directed towards the future, for it is the young growing calf that it protects so passionately. While cows continually provide for us, they are often killed at our convenience. We see the complete acceptance of fate that the cow represents. Yet this profound docility is one of the strongest forces in the universe. It is like water that never resists and yet can carve stone and find its

way past all obstacles at sea. Cats, dogs, horses, bulls and cows are all domesticated animals, each representing instincts that we can, to a certain extent, integrate more easily. As domestic animals they represent aspects for which we hold responsibility. Conversely, if we meet a starving wild animal in a dream, it does not imply that we are responsible for its lack of food. We will now turn our focus to the wild animals. The lion is the king of the beasts and is associated with the sun. Leo is the zodiacal sign for the hottest time of the year,

when the power of the sun god, is at its height. The lion’s roar powerfully asserts its dominance over other animals, yet in its natural habitat it fails to fulfill our grand projection of the royal king of beasts, being lazy and relying on females for hunting and caregiving. Nevertheless, the lion is considered royal because it has been projected on him across cultures. Thus, in analysing the lion in the unconscious, it should generally be interpreted as the king of the beasts. The lion expressing the idea of power is the oldest form of the symbol, and hence has

been associated with royalty. The lion embodies the king theriomorphically, reflecting its representation in the unconscious. The kings of Babylon and Assyria were represented as lion-killers, an act reserved only for royalty, and wore lion skins. Moreover, many primitive tribes called the chief the lion of the tribe; Hercules’ first labour is to defeat a lion, lions are shown in the shields of medieval knights, in the coat of arms of many countries, and so on. In Genesis, Jacob blesses his son Judah, comparing him to a lion. In Revelation, Christ is called the Lion of the tribe of Judah,

signifying His triumph. The lion is a pre-form, as it were, of Christ. Lions are also protectors and guardians. They have an apotropaic role, warding off evil. In the Forbidden City of China, a pair of lions guard the place, deterring evildoers from approaching the temple and its treasures. Similarly, the Lion Gate at Mycenae in Greece serves as a guardian at the entrance, and Egyptian sphinxes, with lion bodies, guarded sacred sites. The deity Aker appears as a pair of twin lions, protecting the sun-disk, the gate to the Beyond, which is also the unconscious, ensuring only the worthy

access hidden treasures, for one must beware of unearned wisdom. Over the centuries, the myth Hercules overcoming the lion, that is, conquering his own ferocity, has undergone a change. In the fairytale The King’s Son Who Knew No Fear, wild animals guard the garden with the Tree of Life. When the hero finds the garden, the animals are asleep. So, he enters the garden, and in the tree, there is a ring which he puts his hand right through, and plucks the apple. The ring fastens tightly around his arm and he feels a mighty strength surge through his body.

As he bursts open the main gate, the lion, previously sleeping, awakens not in rage but as if recognising its master. Here, the lion shifts from being an enemy to a protector and ally – the hero and lion become faithful friends. But we must not think that the theme of conquering the lion is now today outlived. It is as pertinent as ever. However, more self-realised individuals are called not just to overcome their emotions, but to integrate and cooperate with them for a greater purpose. Jung pointed out one great danger when meeting the unconscious: not the contents

themselves but the panic that can arise. Thus, we need to integrate the archetype of “the hero without fear” present in many tales, to effectively engage with the unconscious. It is psychologically significant that the hero approaches the lion from within, instead of from the outside as previous invaders had attempted. By obtaining the apple and ring (aspects of the Self), the hero can walk through the closely guarded front door from the inside. This could be compared with the Cerberus aspect of the fierce watchdog, employed to keep out intruders. Behind this violent emotional complex is a great treasure,

which is needed to face the complex. The hero’s subsequent challenge involves freeing the princess (the integration of the anima), which is a more difficult challenge. We can contrast this psychological process with the alchemical symbol of the green lion devouring the sun. This symbol represents the warm-blooded form of the devouring, predatory monster who first appears as the cold-blooded dragon or serpent. Usually the lion-form succeeds the dragon’s death (which is followed by the eagle). The lion devouring the sun is reminiscent of the black sun or the nigredo, the confrontation with the shadow – a difficult but necessary

stage. This is followed by the albedo stage, the integration of the anima or animus, and culminates in the rubedo, the integration of the Self archetype, which is a lifelong process. Saving the best for last, the serpent is the most frequently depicted animal in mythology and religion, and is the most referenced in Jung’s work. One of the serpent’s best-known attributes is its ability to shed its skin, symbolising renewal. Moreover, they live relatively long lives, indeed, it was once thought that they only shed their skin and never die. This contributed to their association with the eternal cycle

of Oneness, as seen in the ouroboros, one of the oldest symbols in alchemy. In his seminar on Dream Analysis, Jung recounts a case where a man raised a python, a seemingly harmless creature he fed by hand. Despite the belief that the snake recognised him as its caretaker, it suddenly coiled around him and nearly killed him, requiring another person to intervene and kill the snake to save him. This is a typical example of the inherent danger and untrustworthiness of such creatures. Warm-blooded and cold-blooded animals have been adversaries for millions of years. The cold-blooded animal represents an

extremely archaic psychology of the cold-blooded quality in us. There are people who, under certain circumstances, would be capable of things which they simply could not admit. It is frightening, we are shocked out of our wits and cannot accept it. These cold-blooded relics are in a way uncanny powers because they symbolise the fundamental factors of our instinctive life, dating from Paleozoic times. Primates raised in captivity, who have never encountered snakes, still exhibit a strong fear response to both real and snake-like objects, often backing away and staring in awe. Despite their danger, snakes have a hypnotic, almost

magical allure. Jung says that a terrible fear or an organic threat of disease is often expressed in dreams by a snake. For example, he had an acquaintance who told him that whenever she dreamed of snakes it meant diseases. She dreamt of an enormous serpent that killed many people. A few days later, the second wave of the Spanish flu broke out and killed many, and she herself almost died. So, whenever life means business, you are likely to find a saurian on the way. There are twelve physical characteristics that seem to be the main reasons for the

almost universally occurrence of the serpent symbol in mythology and religion: inability to regulate body heat internally, orientation by sympathetic nervous system (which creates the fight-or-flight response), relative invisibility, simplicity of form, large prey swallowing, self-renewal through shedding, hypnotic lidless eyes, apparent unawareness of surroundings, extraordinary mobility, long lifespan, venomous quality, and solitary behaviour, though they form “snake balls” during mating. The most famous serpent story is in Genesis, where it is described as “more subtle than any other beast of the field which the Lord God had made.” It deceives Adam and Eve, leading to their fall and its

own punishment by God. In Revelation, the devil appears as a great dragon, and is described as that old serpent who deceives the whole world. In Clavis Artis, an alchemical text attributed to Zoroaster, a dragon and serpent devour each other’s tails, forming the ouroboros. The dragon, a mythological form of the serpent, shares its name with the Greek drakon, meaning serpent, derived from the Proto-Indo-European root derk (to see). Perhaps the literal sense is “the one with the deadly glance or paralysing sight” – which refers to the serpent’s hypnotic gaze. This is the famous attribute of the basilisk,

another mythological form of the serpent. The serpent as an antagonist appears much earlier in ancient Egypt as Apophis, who resides in Duat, the underworld, and embodies darkness and chaos. He is the archenemy of the sun-god Ra, and his role is to attempt to prevent the sun from rising each day by attacking Ra’s solar barque as it travels through the underworld during the night. Every night, Ra transforms into a tomcat and cuts the serpent’s head off with a knife. It is noteworthy that the evil force reserves the form of the serpent for itself as its most

favourite and privileged shape. The serpent's numerous physical advantages contribute to its symbolic role as a powerful antagonist. In the Epic of Gilgamesh, the hero Gilgamesh goes on a quest for immorality. In one of the crucial scenes, he finds a plant of life that is said to restore youth. But while he stops to take a bath in the cold waters, a serpent smells the flower and steals it, subsequently shedding its skin, and thereby rejuvenating itself. In the Babylonian epic Enuma Elish, Tiamat, associated with the primordial sea, is depicted as a monstrous figure with horns and a

tail, resembling a giant sea serpent or dragon. In Norse mythology, the World Serpent encircles Midgard by biting its tail and will fight the gods during Ragnarök, the end of the world. There is also the dragon Níðhöggr, who gnaws at the roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. In contrast to Western cultures, Chinese dragons are typically seen as benevolent. They are symbols of imperial power, protection, wisdom, and good fortune, and are commonly featured in art and festivals to celebrate their auspicious qualities, reflecting the harmony and balance of Chinese values. The serpent is not just a symbol of

evil, it also embodies light and wisdom. The paradoxical and subtle nature of the serpent appears when we consider Christ’s injunction to be “wise as serpents and harmless as doves.” When God appeared to Moses in the burning bush, his staff was transformed into a snake, and Moses fled in fear, but God told him to pick it up again by the tail, whereupon it became a staff. It is thereafter referred to as the Staff of God, and is used to perform miracles. Moses led the Israelites through the wilderness, but the people turned against God because of the

hardships along the way. Then God sends fiery serpents among the people and many of them died. The people repented and Moses prayed for them, and the Lord said unto Moses, “Make thee a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole; and it shall come to pass that every one who is bitten, when he looketh upon it, shall live.” This shows the paradoxical nature of the snake, being capable of poison and cure. Christ likened himself to this brazen serpent, saying, “And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the son of man

be lifted up.” A staff with a snake wrapped around it was the doctors’ symbol, which is held by Asclepius. As we have mentioned with the dog, snakes played a vital role in the healing sanctuaries of ancient Greece. According to Saint Hippolytus of Rome, serpent-worshipping cults had been in existence before Christianity, but had no written doctrines. The Aztecs, for example, worshipped the feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl, a creator god who used his blood to create humans after gathering ancient bones from the underworld. He also brought knowledge to humankind. In Asian religious traditions, Nagas are semi-divine beings with a

half-human, half-serpent form, residing in Nagaloka, a subterranean realm filled with jewels and lakes. They guard treasure and knowledge. In Hinduism, the most prominent of the nagarajas (king of the Nagas) is Shesha, the thousand-headed Naga who holds the universe on his hoods, and praises Vishnu from all his mouths. This cosmic serpent floats in the ocean of milk as a primordial form of Vishnu rests on it, dreaming the universe into reality. Another nagaraja, Vasuki, is used as a rope to churn the ocean of milk in search of the nectar of immortality, sought by both Devas and Asuras

(gods and demons). During this process, a deadly poison emerges which threatens to destroy the entire universe. Shiva intervenes by consuming the poison, turning his neck blue. The Devas triumph and receive the elixir of life. Vasuki is seen coiled around Shiva’s neck. The snake also symbolises the feminine cosmic energy or Shakti of the kundalini. This energy, lying dormant like a coiled serpent at the base of the spine, can progressively ascend, through meditation to unite with the crown chakra, leading to ecstasy and transcendence. The serpent symbolises secret wisdom and the revelation of hidden knowledge and insight. It

represents gnosis, or inner revelation from one's spirit, which is overwhelming and profound. In many Gnostic sects like the Perates and the Ophites, the serpent is the symbol for Christ. Yaldabaoth is the malevolent lion-headed serpent demiurge who created the material world in order to imprison souls in physical bodies. Some Gnostics compare him with Yahweh. The greatest trick the Devil ever played was to convince the world that he is God. Jung writes: “[A]ccording to the old tradition, the creator of the world, the Demiurgos, was a blind demon who thought he had made human beings as unconscious as

possible in order that they should not see the imperfection. But the god of the spiritual world was quite different, he never made material creations because that was beneath his dignity, only demons could work with dirt, and he saw the misery of those blind human beings, and sent his son in the form of the serpent in paradise to tell them they ought to change, they ought to eat the forbidden fruit in order to become conscious and see the difference between good and bad – knowing good and evil, as the text says. So, the son of God

made his first appearance on earth in the form of the snake in paradise, giving good advice to the first parents.” For certain Gnostics then, the serpent is equated with Christ, a positive messenger from God bringing illumination to man. It is associated with a spiritual death out of which new life is born. Thus, the serpent becomes a symbol of rebirth and gnosis. At the very least, the serpent points to the problem of evil which, although outside the Trinity, is yet somehow connected with the work of redemption. Saint Ignatius of Loyola had a vision of a serpent,

the sight of which filled him with the greatest delight. The more frequently he saw it, the greater was the consolation he derived from it, and when it disappeared, his soul was filled with sorrow. Later, however, he decided that it was an evil spirit and drove it away with a stick: the original light bringer is dogmatically repressed and becomes the devil. In the Gnostic text Pistis Sophia, the outer darkness is depicted as a massive dragon encircling and guarding the Light-kingdom. Inside the dragon are twelve dungeons, each ruled by a figure with an animal head—crocodile, cat, dog,

serpent, black bull, wild boar, bear, vulture, and basilisk. The last three dungeons have rulers with multiple heads: seven dragon heads, seven cat heads, and seven dog heads, respectively. Whatever animal the unconscious may send you, there’s an important message being delivered. When we are not aligned with our instinctual force, we often become sick and neurotic. “In the beginning of life one should trust the animal, one's instincts, to guide one into life, and this is just as true at the time of death. One must trust one's instincts to guide one out of life. Our instincts can teach

us how to die properly. These are animal instincts; therefore, if we trust the animal, if we trust our body, then we are led out of life as harmoniously as we were led into it.” Understanding the deepest instincts of animals is crucial for both comprehending them and our own animal instincts. The cat’s independence and self-reliance, the dog’s loyalty, the horse’s adaptability, the bull’s sacrificial nature, the cow’s nurturing quality and docility, the lion’s power and protection, and the serpent’s paradoxical nature, are all but a few examples of how the dream animal can be interpreted. “In the last

analysis, most of our difficulties come from losing contact with our instincts, with the age-old unforgotten wisdom stored up in us. And where do we make contact with this old man in us? In our dreams, they are the clear manifestations of our unconscious mind… In our sleep we consult the 2,000,000-year-old man which each of us represents.”