From Legion’s Eagle to Emperio Armani: The Flight of an Eagle

There was an awe and a sense of wonder when I first watched The Mummy. It awakened in me a deep allure for the Egyptian civilization, its hieroglyphs and  its cryptic inscriptions in its pyramids. This civilisation drew me in, not only through its mysteries but through the semiotic potency of its symbols. And when I look around today at the gleaming Apple logos on our devices, the emojis that have become our new hieroglyphs I realize that we have never really escaped the spell of symbols.

Throughout history, symbols have been tools of overt power. The eagle carried by a Roman legion was not just merely a symbol, to lose it was seen as extremely grave, shameful and dishonourable and the Roman military went to great lengths both to protect and recover one if it were to be lost. It was one of the iconic and powerful symbols of power and honour symbolizing divine protection and strength bestowed by gods.

Symbols have always been more than instruments of communication , they are vessels of meaning, emotion and collective memory. Their equivalence is far weightier than language, they can shape identity and consciousness itself. Consider the actual symbol for medicine: the Rod of Asclepius: a single serpent coiled around a staff. The serpent which its nature of skin shedding signifies renewal and regeneration, the perpetual rhythm of healing and rebirth; the staff, the axis of life, mirrors the human spine, the central column of vitality and balance. Yet modernity, in its haste, has embraced the caduceus of Hermes - the god not of healing but of commerce, negotiation, and mediation. This (mis)appropriation is more than an error; it is a paradox of our age, where medicine itself has become entangled with exchange, communication, and market logic. The symbol thus stands as a quiet mirror and irony of our civilization , one where the art of healing is bound to the economy of transaction.

The power and profound influence of symbols not only in shaping perception but its physiological impact leads me to inquiries of affect theory. If a simple visual cue, like the sight of a butterfly, a waterfall, can trigger a cascade of neurochemicals in the limbic system eliciting feelings of tranquillity or joy,  then what is the effect of a powerful, culturally charged symbol? This is the realm of affect theory, which suggests that images and symbols can directly impact our nervous system, bypassing conscious thought.

National flags are a prime example, engineered to elicit a cocktail of emotions like bravery, sacrifice, and nationalism. This leads to a compelling hypothesis: if symbols have been used for millennia in magical rites and sacred traditions for their perceived vibrational potency to influence reality, might they exert a similar, subtle influence on our  psyche? Across multiple esoteric systems, the power of symbol is not merely abstractions but its generative and vibrational. In the Kabbalah, the Hebrew alphabet is not just for writing. Each letter is a channel for divine energy, a building block of creation with a specific numerical value (Gematria), sound, and shape. To meditate on a sacred symbol or name of God is to attune oneself to the specific frequency of that divine emanation (Sefirah). It’s a spiritual technology. Sacred geometry, such as the precise patterns of Hindu yantras or the Fibonacci spiral found in nature, are not considered arbitrary. They are believed to be blueprints of cosmic energy, used to focus the mind and manifest spiritual intentions. This historical belief in the existential power of symbols suggests that their impact is not merely cultural, but potentially neurological and psychological.

From sacred, recognised and potent to brushed off as mythical, primitive or mundane. From concentrated in religion and royalty to saturated and subliminally hidden in every facet of consumer and political life. To dismiss symbols as mere myths or folklore is to ignore their  legitimacy, their pervasive and persistent power. We are hyper-saturated with symbols in every aspect of our lives: in the logos on our food, clothes  the architecture of our cities, and the marketing. This saturation extends even to the realm of conspiracy, where theories about subliminal messages in Disney films or the all-seeing eye on the U.S. dollar bill persist. Those who believe in a “New World Order” or hidden elites are essentially arguing that these groups never stopped believing in the vibrational power of symbols. Whether these theories are true is almost secondary; their very existence proves that we intuitively believe in the subconscious power of imagery. From the Apple logo to the Nike swoosh, symbols have thrived, evolving from ancient standards into digital avatars. They are no longer simple abstractions but fundamental components of our reality, with conduits of energy  embedded in our algorithms, our virtual simulations, and our core beliefs. We are not escaping the age of symbols; we are entering its most advanced chapter.

And so, the eagle still soars  but no longer above the legions of Rome. Its wings now stretch across billboards and boutiques. The meaning has not vanished; it has only transfigured. The eagle still signifies mastery, dominion, transcendence but its empire is now aesthetic, psychological, aspirational. It commands no battalions, yet it conquers the imagination. The Roman Aquila demanded allegiance through fear and faith; Armani’s eagle secures it through desire and identification. The symbol has completed its migration from overt power to covert persuasion, from empire to elegance, from the battlefield to the mind.

Author educator based in Kashmir with a background in zoology and philosophy, and I write at the crossroads of science, spirituality, and metaphysics.