Flash! The Symbolism of the Thunderbolt

There’s a moment, in a storm, when all the chaos is
suddenly illuminated, everything is clarified—a sudden insight.

This idea, the symbol of the thunderbolt, is a persistent and migratory
archetype. And perhaps it’s derived from the actual character of the flow of electrons—the massing of electrons in a jagged propulsion through the air. And imagine, seeing this—for now, our vision and among ancient peoples—the power of this “shocking” expression of light, and its potentially destructive force. It’s loud enough to be unforgettably impactful.

Now
I
see
m o r e.

Perhaps you have a recollection like this,
a close encounter of the lightning kind?

I can recall hiking with my Dad in the mountains; and
an unexpected storm wheeled in, and it seemed—in that moment—like the world was revealing its most primordial forces—all exemplified in the momentary flashes of light, and—if it’s striking close, the sound is immediate, not counting out—one thousand one, one thousand two.
It’s flash and boom.

There is a global mythic legacy of the thunderbolt—mostly manifested in spiritual contexts:
Here’s a list for your review, that speaks to the scale this manifestation.
That sense of instantaneous radiance, in mythic context,
is just that: illumination.

In a spiritual context,
illumination is being
“lit up.”

And as I note, as the link above portrays, the list of Thunder beings is widespread and the symbol of thunderbolt as a
symbolic context of illuminative power is ancient.

And some theorized, as in the Thunderbolts Project, a symbolic and cosmic study in alignments between ancient symbolism and the presentation of thunderbolts, electrical energy, sprites, axial energy jets and deep space star clusters.

If you study the barbed nature of electricity, the symbolic and
graphical evidence synthesized a natural portrayal
and the character of the mark—a pronged graphical expression.
This expression is noted below—stylized discharges.

Stylized illustration of 3-D electric discharge forms
in the plasma laboratory, occurring between two electrodes.
In contrast, the 3-D electrical environment in space
provokes axial jets evolving in both directions
from a charged body.

In my own collections from traveling in Tibet, Bhutan and Mongolia, the most contemporary in-practice object is the dorje, Tibetan for “diamond thunderbolt” or in Sanskrit, vajra.These are used in Buddhist meditation and ritual, along with accompanying bells to be used in the meditation practice, held in each hand, with chanting. This is, literally, a collection of thunderbolts.

The dorje from the GIRVIN office.

The dorje bell, usually with matching double—or five / seven—pronged implements.

A double quadrate dorje medallion,
worn as a talismanic device, from Mongolia.

The notion of the cultural expression—the migration of symbols—is, as I’d referenced
a worldwide phenomenon. This has been studied in detail by Count Goblet D’Alviella’s landmark publication.
The Migration of Symbols.

Double thunderbolt
of the Norse warrior Odin.

From Ancient Mesopotamian underworld – Image of a monumental stone relief from the temple of Ninurta at Kalhu dating to circa 883-859 BC, showing the god Ninurta, or possibly Adad.
editor Austen Henry Layard , drawing by L. Gruner, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

“Donar-Thor” by the German painter Max Friedrich Koch (1859 – 1930), painted about 1905
Max Koch, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

An Oshé—Sango Yoruba Thunderhurler, circa 1960
See page for author, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

Epeiros, Epeirote Republic, c. 234-168 BC Laureate head of Zeus
left / APEI-ROTAN & thunderbolt within oak wreath
Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://www.cngcoins.com, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Vajrapani, the thunderbolt-bearing Bodhisattva, India, 7-8th c. Bihar
Metropolitan Museum of Art, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

Another obvious symbology,
still—coming from above—the lightning bolt.

Have you ever been “electrified”—shocked by some errant electron flow? I have, many times—even to the degree that I was thrown by an electric tetanization—hurled away in an explosive shock of light and smoke. You’d think that I might’ve learned, once—but it can repeat in unexpected ways.
Perhaps you’ve experienced a close call with a lightning strike?

For me, it’s allegorical—it’s a shocking, if epiphanic moment. Surprise!
The brilliant light shines—and boom—a new insight.
And, as a person, designers, brand shepherds, we’re looking for
a lightning strike moment, that you remember something of that
instance when you were in the midst of the brainstorm, the bolt of the insight-bearing
lightning blast—
suddenly, you can see your surroundings
in brilliantly polarized light.

Everything is newly apparent, it is all crystal clear.

Thunderstruck: a shocking moment that turns into the momentum of a world-churning, freshly sensed experience.

Every detail of the scene,
lightning-flashed.

I write about it—symbolic alignments and
experiential strategy because of their memorable impact and meaning.

The meaning of the bolt—in my individual meditation—
a personal lightning strike, a string of events hiking out in the open, cliff-facing, in the mountains—when I should’ve been hiding and protecting myself.

As I mentioned, the storm emerged, curled quickly to the hillocks, then rose up the mountain sides—crumpling clouds into roiling lightning-clapping thunder roarers. The roll of thunder coupled with the lightning was an experience of absolutely terrifying proportions. Lightning was repeatedly striking and exploding the surroundings, trees shattering, cliffsides splintering.

And then there was the scent. It was a rarefied smell of electrified molecules, an ozonic breeze of a strange and peculiar character: fried air.

I had visions of being shocked to death, but instead I was shocked into a new world—clearer, sharper detailing, and what came of it
was the new visioning of experiential captivation.

See more.
Sense wholeness.

I first learned about this idea, the thunderbolt symbol during my college years; and it was Lloyd Reynolds, a professor at Reed College, that first talked to me about this idea. And here, you can walk the theory in this google book presentation—the migration of symbols.

Lloyd had this way of intertwining the study of calligraphy, art history, mythic thinking, architecture and palæography as one large grouping of ideas to explore. That idea, the migratory nature of archetypal perspectives of the collective unconscious is something we talked about—patterning, symbols and graphical devices, how they repeat and newly cultivate—like, the thunderbolt, as overviewed in this linked document.
Or the Mother. The Hero. The Trickster.

And I listened.

And so did Steve Jobs,
as you might know.

The Mölnir of Thor
The Norse thunder hammer from the film “Thor.”

The point to this exploration? As a student of brands and the marks that are aligned to them, the power of the markings that designers make, the study of meaning, context and visualizations are inherent in the work. And the idea of symbolism, whether textual or graphical is deep in the alignment of message, meaning and memory.

The deeper you go, the more you know. And I prefer that pathway,
walking down deep into the spelunking of the idea.

And the meaning that comes of it—to the craft, the memory and the work that makes it so unforgettable.

And that’s our work, right?
Unforgettable.

That’s where the magic is.

Tim | Girvin
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GIRVIN’s logo for Simpson Bruckheimer Films, speaking of lightning strikes.
A moving announcement, on the window.