When a Symbol Is a Symbol — and When It’s Just Honest Design

I’ve learned something important as a maker all these years:

We don’t need to agree on what a symbol means.

But we should at least agree on what it is.

That sounds obvious, doesn't it?

Well, it isn’t 🤭

Odin and Apollo - Seemingly Irrelevant, until they were not.

Two moments that made me stop and question everything (again!)

The first was Gungnir.

One day, I made a pendant, and then I tried to design a bracelet.

The pendant had the symbol of Gungnir (the name of the spear of Odin). 

This one: 

As usual, I did what I often do when approaching unknown territories: I began reading, browsing, exploring, more reading, taking notes, observing.

And the deeper I went, the less solid the ground became.

Gungnir absolutely exists in Norse mythology. And yes, it's the name of Odin's spear. But there is no historically attested symbol for it.

Unless I didn't do enough of a research or I looked at the wrong places, what I found was that there is no proof that says this shape equals that object.

Even the idea of Gungnir being visually codified into a specific symbol is far less clear-cut than modern jewelry would suggest.

And despite the fact I found the symbol in Wikipedia, various articles and posts from people who definitely know much more than I do had me thinking about it, pausing, and let it aside for a while.

So, what had happened with Gungnir?

Apparently, what circulates today are modern interpretations: designs that feel ancient, repeat well, and look convincing (enough) to represent something. 

This is not something new, to be honest. Many popular symbolic jewelry designs have no solid proof of existence or association with history and it doesn't mean they are fake or bad or misleading - hear me out, I will explain in a bit.

I didn’t go deeper about the Gungnir, I left the pedant aside for later. Norse mythology is not part of my culture and I am not familiar with it. 

When (if ever) I know exactly what I’m holding (and what I’m not) I’ll name it honestly and make a bracelet with it.

And then, the wearer can decide what it means to them.

Now, the explanation, by a random coincidence: The Delphic Epsilon Bracelet, here: 

The Delphic Epsilon (or "how I connected the dots")

The second moment came months later, quietly, through a long-time repeat customer. They reached out asking about that bracelet, if I can alter the design a bit to match another cuff they liked more, some underside engraving and other details. 

And before closing their email, they casually asked:

“By the way, could you engrave a single E instead of the double?”

I took my 🙄 huh, okay (?) look for a brief second, resisted the urge to ask why (yes, I do tend to ask a lot of questions, but I have also learned that sometimes I shouldn't) and replied "Sure! No problem at all."

Thankfully, to my curiosity's sanity they explained: "You know, it was never really proved that there was a double Epsilon on the entrance of Apollo's Temple - all historical evidence point out to a single Epsilon."

And I'm like seriously?  🤨

I held on that last comment and began reading and searching and digging and googling. 

And yes, they were right (again!)

The Delphic Epsilon is a real historical mystery. Ancient sources (most notably Plutarch) speak of a single mysterious ‘E’ at the Temple of Apollo in Delphi.

Philosophers debated its meaning endlessly: Ei as “You are,” as the number five, as a riddle addressed to the god himself. The letter E specifically, has a whole collection of essays, studies and articles dedicated to it, inspiring humanity for decades.

What matters here is not the interpretation, but the form.

Everything we currently have, all ancient texts, numismatic evidence, scholarly research, all point to a single epsilon. Even coins associated with Delphi show a lone Ε!

And (the obvious question) that follows: Okay, what about the temple ruins themselves? 

Well, nothing survives that would indicate a mirrored or doubled inscription at the entrance 🤷

Ha!

The double (mirrored) epsilon, widely used in jewelry today, appears to be a later artistic evolution. Most likely chosen for symmetry, balance, and practicality as a pendant rather than a letter or monogram.

Beautiful? Absolutely.
Historically attested as such? No.

(Okay, Kate, what now? Me thinks.)

So I did the simplest thing possible: I explained it in the description. And then I wrote this post. Because once you know better, pretending you don’t isn’t an option.

And now I offer both versions of the pendant.

(And if you are curious, here is the finished, custom design I made for my customer:)

(In case you are wondering - and I'm guessing that you do - yes, you are correct: this cuff has nothing to do with the double epsilon bracelet's design above, and that's the magic of truly handmade work: It adapts. Save this to read later, it will clear all the fog: As Pictured or Not? Real Cases where the "Not As PIctured" Makes Perfect Sense)

Why this matters (and why it’s not academic nitpicking)

This has nothing to do with being “right.”

It’s about shared ground, honesty and respect (to my customers, readers, and my own work).

I will explain with a simple example: Take my wolf bracelets.

My own point of view, almost always, is the lone wolf. I’m an introvert. I work solo. I craft quietly, emotionally, in my own rhythm. That’s my wolf.

But here’s the interesting part: every single time I talk with people about their wolf and what it means to them while designing and customizing their bracelet, the story is different.

- For one, it’s a she-wolf.
- For another, it’s about resilience.
- For someone else, it’s the spirit of a great-grandfather that protects them.
- For another, it’s survival. Or solitude. Or rage held in silence.

The wolf can have a lot of faces, live a lot of lives, carry a lot of stories, mean a lot of meanings.

We don’t agree on the meaning and here's the thing about true, deep meaning: we don’t need to agree.

But we do agree on one thing: a wolf is a wolf.

That shared truth is what allows all those meanings to coexist without collapsing into nonsense.

Symbols work the same way.

When a symbol is presented as something it historically isn’t (which is okay if it's honest), and it's sold with promises attached to it (no symbol promises ANYTHING to anyone), that shared ground disappears.

It collapses.

The wearer doesn’t choose their meaning anymore; it’s handed to them, prepackaged and unquestionable. And it's not true.

And this causes the very existence of "meaning" itself to collapse.

That’s the line.

One respects the wearer.
The other uses them.

About artistic symbols (and where the real problem begins)

Many symbols commonly used in jewelry today are artistic interpretations, later inventions, or visual adaptations. 

That’s not a problem. That’s design. That’s human creativity doing what it always does: Take a meaning, a core, a value, a fact, a person, a story, anything, and give it shape.

In a way, that's art.

The problem starts when someone says:

“This is what history says,” when history never said that.

Or worse:

“This symbol will bring you love, money, protection, happiness, or your secret crush.” 🙄

Symbols never promise outcomes. They reflect ideas, philosophies, questions, the accompany, they signal, they offer the meaning you want (or need) to remember. 

Meaning lives in the relationship between the person and the object and not in guarantees.

In the end...

That’s the reason I paused the Gungnir (but still have it if you want it!) and why I offer both versions of the Delphic Epsilon.

We don’t have to agree on meaning, yes?

We just need to agree on the ground we’re standing on.

From there, the symbol is free to become whatever the wearer needs it to be.

[Speaking of Symbols & their meaning, read next: 10 Symbols to Wear When You've Lost Your Way]