Yesterday, we began to explore the Jungian symbolism of Almodóvar’s “The Skin I Live In”. Today, we are diving into part of the Heracles myth, the Chariot card of the Tarot, and the Hebrew letter Cheth.
Heracles and the Shirt of Nessus
The Shirt of Nessus
Another idea to consider at this point is the story of the Shirt of Nessus. In Greek mythology, Nessus was a mischievous centaur who attempted to kidnap and rape Heracles’ wife, Deianeira. But Heracles rescued her by shooting Nessus with a poisoned arrow.
Before he dies, Nessus gives Deianeira his blood stained tunic, and tells her that if Heracles wears it that he will be eternally devoted to her. But it is a trick, and when Heracles eventually wears the tunic, the centaur’s blood burns Heracles so badly that his only relief is to throw himself on a funeral pyre.
The parallels to “The Skin I Live In” are obvious. Two rivals—one an obvious Trickster archetype—fight over the love of one woman. Their rivalry results in a character being horribly burned.
Even further, consider this passage from Jung’s “The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious”, where Jung compares Heracles while wearing the Shirt of Nessus to a person trapped by the illusion of the Persona:
“The garment of Deianeira has grown fast to his skin, and a desperate decision like that of Heracles is needed if he is to tear this Nessus shirt from his body and step into the consuming fire of the flame of immortality, in order to transform himself into what he really is. Once could say, with a little exaggeration, that the persona is that which in reality one is not, but which oneself as well as others think one is. In any case the temptation to be what one seems to be is great, because the persona is usually rewarded in cash.”
The lesson for us is clear: if we fool ourselves into thinking some idealized subset of our personality is our true self, we will end up being a prisoner to that illusion. Eventually, we will become so desperate to escape the trap that we have created for ourselves that we will accept any promise of freedom, no matter what terrifying, destructive conditions it may bring.
Trump 7 - The Chariot
The Chariot
Finally, let us go one layer deeper into the symbolism of “The Skin I Live In.” To do this, let me first introduce you to the seventh trump of the Tarot, named “The Chariot”. In the illustration of card that appears above, we see a knight on a chariot. A crab is perched on the knight’s helmet. The knight carries a grail, and his chariot is pulled by four cherubs. On the bottom border are the Hebrew letter Cheth and the astrological symbol for Cancer.
Paul Foster Case, in “The Tarot: A Key to the Wisdom of the Ages” gives a fantastic description of the Chariot card. Here are some of his initial comments.
“The chariot itself is a movable fence, corresponding to the letter Cheth.”
“[Cheth] means a field, and the fence enclosing it. “Fence” suggests enclosure, protection, defense; specific location; an area set apart for cultivation. It also implies shielding, safeguard, refuge, safety. Thus it corresponds to the ideas represented by the words carapace and shell.”
“Cancer, the Crab, a cardinal, watery sign, is attributed to Cheth. Here we see the connection between the letter-name, “fence”, and the crab’s hard carapace.”
The Hebrew letter Cheth evolved from an ancient pictogram for a fence. The chariot is described as a “movable fence”. A fence protects something precious by enclosing it. We can see how the knight’s armor, the grail, the chariot, the symbol for Cancer, and the Hebrew letter Cheth all point to this central idea.
Parallels in “The Skin I Live In”
Now let us consider some of the ways that “The Skin I Live In” uses the same set of symbols to describe the same essential idea.
First, the opening shots are of a gated Spanish villa in Toledo. Even the name of the villa, El Cigarral, is ripe with meaning. The word, which literally means a garden, has a shared etymology with the English word “cicada” (“cigarra” in Spanish). Indeed, as we look through the gate, we hear the buzzing of the cicadas in the background.
The fence enclosing El Cigarral, from the opening scene
The surface meaning fits the setting—the villa is indeed a garden. But the deeper origins of the word align with the central theme of the film. The garden is encircled with a fence, the cicada has a shell-like exoskeleton, and each of us has a “skin” that serves as the vehicle of our identity.
A second correlation lies in the use of cars. The first obvious example is that Gal is maimed in a burning car. But another more subtle point is that we never see Robert venture beyond the enclosure of his villa without the protection of his car. Seven times we see or hear him arriving or departing in his car. The word “car” has the same etymology as “chariot”, and it serves the same functional role as the Chariot card—a car transports the precious passengers to their destination, protected in a shell.
The Letter Cheth
Third, let’s look deeper into the Hebrew letter Cheth. The letter Cheth represents the “ch” sound at the beginning of the word Chanukah. As I mentioned earlier, it evolved from a pictogram that meant fence—the same pictogram that the English letter “H” evolved from. You can even see the remnant of the two posts and horizontal beam of a fence in both the Hebrew and English letters.
The evolution of the Hebrew "Cheth", and the English "H"
While the symbol refers to a fence, as a word, “cheth” means “beast”. The presence of Zeca as a beast springs immediately to mind.
The root of Cheth is “Chayah”. Unlike English, Hebrew was originally written using just consonants. The vowels were something you added as you read, based on tradition and intuition. By applying different combinations of vowels to these sets of consonants, you can create completely different words.
Depending on the vowels applied, Chayah can mean: to live; to revive, to keep alive, to give (promise) life, (let, suffer to) live, nourish up, preserve (alive), quicken, recover, repair, restore (to life), revive, save (alive, life, lives), to be whole.
The relation to the film is clear. Robert saves Gal from the burning car, and keeps her alive. He finds his daughter, Norma, in the garden after she is raped, and revives her. Twice, when Vera attempts suicide, Robert saves her life, and repairs her.
The car accident that maimed Gal
The Deeper Meaning of the Chariot
Finally, let’s look at the spiritual meaning of the tarot card. Returning to Paul Foster Case’s description of the Chariot, we read:
“The more perfectly we understand that the office of human personality is to serve as a vehicle for cosmic forces, the more freely does the Primal Will behind all manifestation find expression through us. […] We ourselves will learn from practice that the strength of our volition is measured by the degree of our willingness to let life find unobstructed manifestation through us.”
While we have been discussing the symbolism of the tarot card, the underlying meaning is the essential point. The Chariot represents the human personality “as a vehicle”. Our more superficial ideas of identity are just a container to house the life that flows through everything. Robert doesn’t understand this. He has mistaken the shell for the reality. Vicente, transformed into Vera, is forced to confront these issues of true identity.
Returning one last time to Paul Foster Case, we read the technique for letting go of the superficial forms, to connect with something deeper:
“Relaxation of body, passivity of mind, one-pointed attention to the real presence in our personal field of the limitless powers of the whole universe, with progressive freedom in the expression of those powers as our dominant purpose—this is the infallible practical formula for triumph in the mind and elsewhere.”
This sounds very reminiscent of the words of the yoga instructor that Vera listens to on her television:
“There’s a place where you can take refuge, a place inside you, a place to which no one else has access, a place that no one can destroy. To access that place there is yoga, an ancient technique. It’s a place where you’ll find peace, where you’ll find tranquility, freedom. But you must practice it continuously, intensely, and then you’ll achieve it. Be careful, however, not to confuse health and form, with deep truth.”
Conclusion
The many parallels between Almodóvar’s “The Skin I Live In”, Jung’s concepts of the Persona, and the meaning and symbolism of the Chariot card of the Tarot are undeniable. But however we approach the film, we arrive at the same destination. Even without understanding Jung or the Tarot, when we watch as Vera escapes and returns to the dress shop where she used to work; when we see her tearfully deliver the last lines of the film, “I am Vicente”; we come away with the same appreciation of the idea that underneath everything, there is a spark of self that burns faithfully—no matter how much our outsides have changed.
To sum up the lesson underlying “The Skin I Live In”, Jung’s discussion of the Persona, and the Chariot card: our bodies, our gender, our social image, and even our personality are not our true selves. They are just a vehicle for a more universal life force. Once we accept this premise, we can begin to connect to the deeper part of our selves. Two obvious examples of methods for nurturing this connection are yoga, and the mystical practices taught by people like Paul Foster Case. There are many other methods that will work for different people. They often include techniques like relaxation, stilling the thought-process, or practicing sustained attention on a single idea. Once you find your method, practice it with passion and perseverance.
L’Chaim!
Vera, practicing yoga
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