The Emperor sits on a hard stone throne adorned with Ram’s heads, the symbol of the Zodiac sign of Aries. He is clad in a cloak of red, the color of Mars, and on his legs, we see a peak of the metal armor he wears as protection. He is the defender of the castle. On his head, he wears a crown of gold speckled with clear and ruby colored jewels, showing that he has won his triumphs. In one hand he holds a staff in the shape of an ankh, the Egyptian symbol of life. In the other, he clasps a globe, the symbol of the material world. His domain is a sparse mountain top, where his wisdom and maturity are represented by his long-gray beard. He is the ultimate authority figure, the traditional archetype of the father, structure and labor.
As a father archetype, the Emperor may be considered old-fashioned today, as the definition of father has grown more inclusive and accepting of the various faces of fatherhood. But the archetype of discipline and battle-worn brilliance remains. Emperors protect their families, tribes, and dominions every day through battle, preparation, and hard fortifications. They build stone fortresses and ascend a rigid throne of self-discipline to keep it all together. They teach through the lessons of doing and have mastered everyday realities through the creation of unshakeable structures. But they can also be rigid, strict, and severe when a subject gets out of line.
My father was old school. A strict disciplinarian, he demanded respect, though he didn’t always get it. He defined the lines and expected you to never cross them. After all, it was for your own good.
He worked hard, getting up every morning at 4:30 am to arrive at work by 5, just so he could be home in the afternoon. Now you would think this would give him time to spend with his family, but in his later years, he was often so exhausted from working that he would fall asleep in his recliner an hour after arriving home.
He was a dependable worker and was always on call. I remember many a Christmas’ when post-gift exchange pleasantries were broken by the ring of the telephone and the sound of a desperate coworker asking if he could come in because something in the system had broken down and it needed to be fixed right away. And my ever-reliable father was the one to fix it. And so he followed his duty and went in.
He was also a Gemini. So, inside the gruff, disciplined exterior resided a chatty clown, that never knew a stranger, or was slow to tell a joke. I remember being shocked at the age of five, when a cousin at a family reunion looked at me wide-eyed and said, “You’re Norm’s kid. Your dad is a legend. Isn’t he the one who jumped off the roof wearing a bedsheet tied around his neck and claimed he was Superman?” I asked around. And yes, that was him.
In true Gemini fashion, he loved anything to do with electronics. Throughout his life he held various electrical jobs including work as a projectionist in a movie theatre, work with radio wiring, a job stringing up telephone lines across the Cascade Mountain range and years spent troubleshooting computer and server systems for both AT&T and Boeing.
And though he was a workaholic, at his core he was a family man. He always believed in sticking up for his siblings, took anyone to task for criticizing his kids, and carried a picture of my mom in his wallet until the day he died.
On this day after Father’s Day, I am reflective of the lessons my father taught me. If you work hard and show up, you will be rewarded with a steady income and firm foundation. That strangers are just friends that you haven’t met yet. And that those that show you discipline and structure, while at times can seem restrictive and overbearing, are there to help you direct your energy into practical applications of energy.
So a happy belated Father’s Day to all the dads and dad archetypes out there. And may your teachings help shape the next generation into stable, productive human beings.
