yonic

I expect you know what ‘phallic’ means. But you’ve probably never heard of ‘yonic’, which is basically the female equivalent* (shakes fist at patriarchy) – an adjective that describes objects or symbols that resemble or represent the female genitalia, particularly the vulva.

‘Yonic’ is derived from a Sanskrit word, ‘yoni’ (योनि), which means ‘womb’, ‘uterus’ or ‘vulva’, as well as ‘source’. In various Eastern religions and spiritual traditions, the yoni is revered as a symbol of divine feminine energy and fertility, and the origin of life. The concept of the yoni is often associated with the goddess Shakti in Hinduism, representing the creative and nurturing aspects of the universe. Yoni and linga (the masculine version) iconography is found in Shiva temples and archaeological sites across the Indian subcontinent and southeast Asia.

The yoni may well be the oldest spiritual icon not just in India but in many ancient cultures. It’s only here in the West that we’ve traditionally treated feminine sexual organs and sexuality as taboo – in Indic religions (i.e. Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism) and other similar ancient cultures, the yoni has long been seen as as a deep philosophical and cosmic truth that represents feminine power and potential. It’s closely linked with the natural cycles of the moon, earth and life itself. Take that, patriarchy.

Roses are often considered a yonic symbol, which seems a bit odd to me as men often give them to women as a romantic gesture. Maybe they should be giving us more phallic flowers. Like the phallus impudicus, for example, AKA the common stinkhorn, a fungus renowned for being shaped like a penis and for having an absolutely horrible smell. Hmmm, maybe this is why I’m single…

*Which presumably gets paid 13% less than her male counterpart.

juggernaut

A juggernaut is something huge and powerful, usually destructive, that can’t be stopped, either literally or metaphorically. Like a steam roller, or Donald Trump’s ego. In British English we also use it for a big old lorry. But it is a bit of a weird word. So what is a jugger, and why is it nauting?

A slightly unimpressive photo of the temple

Well, the good news is that ‘juggernaut’ has some epic etymology. The bad news is that it’s a bit grim. It comes from Jagannāth, the Hindi word for ‘Lord of the World’. Jagannath is an incarnation of the god Vishnu, and has an important temple in Puri, on the eastern coast of India. That’s not the grim bit, obviously. Each year the temple holds the Ratha Yatra, or chariot festival, when images of Jagannath and his brother (Balabhadra) and sister (Subhadra) are pulled on huge and elaborately decorated (you’ve guessed it) chariots. According to hopefully apocryphal (i.e. bullshit) reports going back to the 14th century, hardcore Vishnu fans would throw themselves in front of these to show their devotion by being crushed beneath the wheels of carriages. That. Is. Commitment. Colonial Brits supposedly saw this, then anglicised Jagannath as ‘juggernaut’ giving it the meaning of unstoppable force that we have today.

Jagannath and his siblings’ temple at Puri is freaking massive – it covers an area of over 400,000 square feet (37,000 square metres in new money). It was built in the 11th or 12th century (depending on which page of Wikipedia you look at) by king Anantavarman Chodaganga, a ruler of the Eastern Ganga dynasty who were in charge of the southern part of Kalinga in India. There’s a flag on the top of it which apparently defies science, and always flies in the opposite direction to the way the wind’s blowing. (Boringly, there is actually some science that explains this involving fluid dynamics and something called a Kármán vortex street, but that isn’t half as fun so let’s ignore it.) Every day since it was built, a priest has scrambled up the walls of the temple – the height of a 45-storey building – without any protective gear, to change this flag. Bagsie not me.

avatar

Vishnu – also blue, like the na’vi.

Now, if you’re a young person, you might have only come across the word ‘avatar’ in the context of James Cameron’s big blue na’vi, or the icon you use to represent you on social media, internet forums, and so on. In fact, ‘avatar’ is much older than that. Like, super old. It first appeared in English in the late 18th century (1784 to be precise) and comes from a Sanskrit word meaning ‘descent’. It was generally used to describe a deity coming to earth – specifically Vishnu, one of the top bods in the Hindu religion. Vishnu is the protector of the universe and whenever the world is threatened, he comes to visit in the form of one of ten different avatars to sort it all out.

(Ummm, are you there, Vishnu? I think we could definitely do with a little bit of help at the moment…)

‘Avatar’ later came to mean any incarnation in human form, and after that any concept or philosophy embodied in a different form (not necessarily human). We can thank the game Second Life for the popularity of the modern-day meaning as an icon representing someone online. Its creator, Philip Rosedale, defines a gaming avatar as ‘the representation of your chosen embodied appearance to other people in a virtual world’. It’d been used in a gaming sense for a while before that though – one Chip Morningstar (What. A. Name.) first used it in a game called Habitat (nothing to do with the furniture store), a forerunner of today’s MMORPGs (massively multiplayer online role-playing games in case you’re not a gamer – probably the most famous of which is World of Warcraft). Even though Chip gets the credit for coining the term ‘avatar’ for people’s online personas, it wasn’t the first time it was used in gaming. That honour belongs to a 1979 game called, you’ve guessed it, Avatar.

Oh, and there’s also a vegan Swedish death metal band called Avatar.