Reading Notes: Iron John
Iron John by Robert Bly
I loved a lot of this book. I came to it after numerous references in a few of my all time favorite books, namely James Hollis’ Under Saturn’s Shadow, and Jordan Peterson’s We Who Wrestle with God.
Below are my notes from the book, organized somewhat thematically, and expanded in prose. There is some powerful guidance in Iron John - some real first principles on ‘being a man’. It’s also esoteric, and sometimes just a little much for me. Bly inserts and references a lot of poetry, which sometimes I love, but sadly it often misses on me. That’s a me-problem, no fault of the author or weakness of the book. I ate too many crayons as a child, and therefore usually resonate more with clear, pragmatic writing.
Beyond the poetry, there is extensive symbolism and allegory in Iron John. Similar to my partial-block with poetry, the thematic symbolism doesn’t always work (for me), but sometimes it’s great.
The book is structured as a retelling and examination of the German myth ‘Iron John’, which is the translated name of a ‘Wild Man’ in the story. The broader myth and meaning of the the Wild Man, aka ‘Iron John’, being cast away and hidden under a lake, covered in hair, and then to be locked in a cage when found - this is a wonderful metaphor that Bly brilliantly expands on. The core metaphor of course, is that this is the tale of each man’s own inner Wild Man, and how he is handled by the world. I’m not going to re-hash all of the story here, you’ll have to get the book.
So what is our inner Wild Man, and where does he come from?
I’ve been thinking a lot about ancestry. It’s a powerful part of our lives that I believe most of us - especially in western cultures - have lost sight of. Obviously I’m generalizing, but that rings true to me, especially when you learn about how strongly humans have revered and honored ancestors throughout much of our history.
The closest modern setting where I see ancestral reverence is static memorialization with photo albums and wall prints, and sometimes more elaborate shrines with trinkets and mementos on display. This is nice, but it’s a far cry from what we used to do so commonly by way of ceremony and ritual. Even when an American family, let’s say, has a lot of family photos and memorabilia around, it rarely spans more than one or two generations into the past.
However, there is still a rich tapestry of ancestral reverence around the world, especially among what we would typically call indigenous peoples. I would argue that in many cultures, especially Eastern and equatorial, the handoff of ancestral recognition and even ceremony has been much more smooth than it has been in the west.
Ritual, ceremony, honor, prayer, sacrifice. I think these are core human elements that we need. Where do these things - these meaningful pillars of life - come from? Well, they come from ancestors, and they exist as tradition - practices to take seriously in order to cultivate abundance and good fortune. Or, if ignored or disrespected, one can expect trouble, famine, and suffering.
It’s important to think of the sheer number of direct ancestors we have. The genetic tree expands widely the more years you trace into the past; all of the great grandparents who met, loved, and sacrificed in order to raise another generation to do the same. Think of what our ancestors faced over the ages: the unforgiving elements of nature without modern inventions, and wild new geographies while exploring and settling. Not to mention the toils of humanity: war, famine, and tyranny.
Only with amazing effort, focus, persistence, skill, and a heavy dose of good fortune, did so many people live and die to bring each one of us to life today.
I believe the people of past generations - and today’s indigenous people - were more connected to their ancestors than we are now. I believe they thanked their ancestors daily - through prayer, gratitude, and sacrifice. I also believe that our ancestors consciously thought of and prepared for us, ensuring they raised their children with virtue, and as much as they could conjure, in a life of abundance and growth.
And so, I believe those ancestors, our heritage, lived wildly. The men and the women - their wild soul - was not hidden underwater, covered in unkempt hair, and locked in a cage when found. As Bly puts it:
‘Who is the Wild Man? He is child-like spontaneity and play. He is kinship with nature, and its guardian. He has healthy desires that he pursues with great passion.
Live within the high voltage of the golden gifts from God. Think deeply, exercise discipline, and allow grief. The Wild Man can face and endure pain and suffering; even that from the past.
A strong modern power forced your Wild Man under water and into a cage. Now, through discipline and suffering, he is free, and you can appear as you are: a Lord.’ - RB
Bly argues (successfully, if you ask me) that the Wild Man is within us all, but in recent generations he has sunk away from our active psyche, and is now lost. Hence my ancestral diatribe above; we lost the Wild Man just as we lost the connection to our heritage, and with it the active honor and gratitude we owe those who came before us, and who sacrificed so that we may thrive.
In parallel to this generational severance, modern society and socioeconomic forces have always moved to lock the Wild Man in a cage whenever he surfaces. He represents individuality, spontaneity, and passion. He is kinship with nature and connection to God. He is strength, mastery, and adventure. He is the true meaning of freedom.
The tyrannical machinations of corporate America, the federal government, pop culture, and the general blasé of bullshit that plagues the masses all hate genuine freedom. I don’t mean the objective freedom and liberty we enjoy as Americans, which is important. I mean authenticity and sovereignty. The freedom of those who embark on a quest of truth, meaning, and search for the Logos. People (and communities) who seek God, or The Gods, and pursue adventure in mind, body, and spirit.
I think this kind of a life quest can mean a lot of things, and at various scales of experience. For example, this can be as literal as an adventure of global travel, exploring with righteous intention for spiritual discovery, nature-based expeditions, global non-profit and humanitarian work, etc.
But it doesn’t have to mean literal journeys of geographic grandeur. I think evoking the Wild Man can mean taking on challenging personal responsibility (shoutout JBP). That means the daily and small-scale sacrifice of selfish impulse for dutiful burdens that help others. That could mean anything, depending on your station in life: clean up your room, quit drinking, take a damn shower, ask your crush on a real date, show up to work on time, focus on your partner’s needs instead of yours, get married and have children, start taking your health seriously, etc.
Creatively, the implications are massive. Start writing, pick up the pencil or paintbrush, deliberately practice your instrument. READ. But really, it means do the work. That’s what the Wild Man would do. He wouldn’t be watching others.
If you do have a corporate job (like me), it doesn’t mean you have to be a slave. First, perform at your highest and do the right thing, always. Then, with skill and credibility, you can speak your mind and advocate for honest, authentic work. It’s up to you to make sure your company, product, and profession align with your personal values. Begrudgingly, this is possible in the corporate world. It is also quite possible to slip and find yourself in a cubicle in the Tower of Babel.
‘The men of the greatest generations got to work early, labored responsibly, supported their wives and children, and admired discipline.’ -RB
But the Wild Man is not just a provider and disciplined worker. He is also fun, creative, and strong. You must not abandon or even neglect your creative calling or your human connections. These are critical pillars of your human experience, and they are remnants of your heritage.
‘Iron John is the deep male, the wild man, below the water of our psyche. He is both what is dark and what is nourishing.
Sacrifice includes the difficult tasks accepted, as well as the painful awareness of other roads not taken.
Choose one precious thing - your proper aim - and enter a joyful participation of tension in the world.
Iron John is the one who looks back when you look in the mirror. He is your shadow, but also your spiritual twin. Your twin retains the spiritual knowledge given to you before birth. He insists on intensity and seriousness. This man says: make something of your life, or I will take it from you.’ -RB
Put that last paragraph in your pipe and smoke it. Holy Hera, that one hits! After I read this and took a moment to think about it, I went for a slow, deliberate look in the mirror. Doing that with this verse fresh on the mind is no simple task. Do it. I get goosebumps just re-reading it now. Are you living up to the demands of your spiritual twin? Could one posit that your spiritual twin is also the ancestral soul of your heritage, within you? If this is possible - and I believe it certainly is - do you think you might owe it to your soul, and those who died before you, to make something of your damn life?
‘The Wild Man’s job is to teach the young man how abundant, various, and vast manhood is. The boy inherits powers - physical, spiritual, and soul powers - from long dead ancestors.’ -RB
Bly goes on, recounting the story of Iron John, and interpreting meaning. Again, some times it was far-fetched for me, but it’s profound when it lands. For example, I loved the focus on the kinship with nature that is central to our being. It is so critically important for humans to feel that connection with Mother Nature. With enough time in nature, enough encounters with wildlife, and closeness with rock and flora, one does feel a belonging. It’s hard to articulate the kind of recognition I have felt in the wild with plants, animals, and place. Sometimes it’s even hostile or apprehensive. This is a wild dynamic, not a sterile voyeurism.
I think with more / enough of these kinds of felt moments, one can begin to grasp a real place among the wild; almost an earned role, or active participation. It’s a nondescript but deep feeling I now have when setting out on a backcountry expedition, or even simply while watching birds in a natural area…it’s a subconscious messaging I feel between myself and nature of: ‘hey, I’m back. I know you, I see you, and I know you see me. I belong here, and so do you, and we will face what’s next together.’ Hard to articulate, and certainly esoteric, but it’s a real thing.
The weirdness of that feeling, that kinship, is part of a universal fabric of tales, legends, and beliefs among humans for all of our history. Often times these stories are bizarre, and then some. Bly recounts a great number of the animal and nature myths in the book, and in the epilogue.
‘What do you see with your inner, your third eye? Native American hunters saw the Buffalo God. They saw the personality of nature, a kinship of consciousness that connected them to God.
To be initiated means to expand into the glory of oaks, mountains, glaciers, lions, grasses, waterfalls, and deer. We need wilderness. What keeps a man from tigers and waterfalls will kill him.’ -RB
Another huge theme throughout the book is male initiation, and the landscape of the inner psyche. First on initiation, as Bly puts it:
The steps of Initiation:
Bond with and release from Mother
Bond with and release from Father
Find a mentor and rebuild the bridge to greatness
Become a warrior through apprenticeship, channel hurricane energy, drink from the waters of the Gods
Marry the Queen
Become the Sacred King. Husband and father. Bless the world, provide order, and create.
There are entire chapters of the book diving into all of these steps - I won’t break them all down here. But the idea of male (and female) initiation is an important one, and I agree with Bly that the lack of regular initiation traditions is a big part of the struggles men are facing in today’s culture. Note above the release from the father. Bly explains how in many cultures, the father does not drive initiation or manhood ceremonies - rather this is often done by other men of the community. Another key point - men today are often lacking not only the true father at home, but also the cadre of men needed to guide them to manhood. That break from the father and releasing to the men of the community is important. The young man must grow to face the abyss without his father - trusting in the skills and knowledge his father gave him, and looking to other warriors and guides as he steps off into the wilderness. This is important for the father as well - knowing that his son is now ready to go forth and lead others, and carry the flame on his own.
The other ‘steps’ of initiation Bly goes into are all fascinating, and they tie into the Iron John story. The whole saga of releasing from the mother is worth its own essay, I don’t have the bandwidth for that right now!
I mentioned the landscape of the psyche. I love this idea - very Jungian, and I highly recommend reading James Hollis as he explores the psyche as a divine entity within but also separate from us.
Bly gets into the components of the psyche - the soul - as the inner King and inner Warrior, as well as each of us having a Sacred Garden. Some incredible passages from the book on these ideas:
‘The Holy Warrior fights the battle of good versus evil. He not only fights the Earthly darkness, but also the darkness within himself. He balances the Paladin and the Berserker.
Tell the truth. Raise the sword. Build Jerusalem.
A man chooses his life’s desire, and the warrior in him agrees to the unpleasant labors that will follow. The inner warrior gives a man permission to live through suffering.
When you see your target, choose your aim, and answer the call, the King within you awakens, and he summons his best warrior.
Awakening the inner warrior involves physical and imaginative work. What do you love deeply enough to defend? Protect the inner King and his garden. Protect the wounded child inside you, but do not let him govern.’ -RB
The inner garden must be cultivated and protected. Think deeply about this metaphor. That means your most sacred thoughts, feelings, and memories. It means the jubilant ways in which you experienced the world as a child. It’s the unfettered energy and enthusiasm you had for art, or music, or sports as a young man. It could be your time of peace and reflection in the morning, over coffee, before the world awakes. Maybe it’s how you feel every time you hit the squat rack and your favorite album is ripping in your headphones. Or it’s the view at the overlook on your weekly trail run - and that momentary but solid sense of belonging that you have earned and that you deserve. Protect these places internally and externally, these rituals, these experiences. They are central to your essence as a man.
The inner King governs and recognizes the Sacred Garden. He makes sure the memories remain, and that the feelings persist, but he does not let them run your life. They stay in the Garden. The Warrior takes up arms - daily, weekly, yearly, forever - against forces that would burn your Garden down. Vice, sin, sloth, greed, impulse, and the very evil that lies within us all.
But again, and finally, how do we awaken and empower the King in our hearts, so that he sets our world in order, and enlists our inner Warrior to defend that which is sacred?
We find the Wild Man. We rescue him from the murky water, and clean him up. Then, when the world locks him in a cage, we steal the key and free him. We set to fighting, building, playing, and creating. Only then can we realize our full potential as a man, and find our true place in the world.