A symbol was thus originally a tally referring to the missing piece of an object which when restored to, or thrown together with, its partner recreated the original whole object. This corresponds to our understanding of the psychological function of a symbol. The symbol leads us to the missing part of the whole man. It relates us to our original totality. It heals our split, our alienation from life.
— Edward F. Edinger
Edinger is tracking something in the etymology that most symbol-talk skips. The Greek *symbolon* was a broken object — a potsherd, a ring, a coin snapped in two — and the two halves served as a kind of contract: present both pieces, and they confirm identity, seal a bond, prove a claim. The symbol worked precisely because it was broken. Its meaning was the break.
What this means for how you encounter a symbol in a dream or a symptom is that you are not receiving a message from a unified source. You are holding one half of something. The other half is what you lack — and here Edinger makes the move that matters: the symbol does not merely point at the missing piece, it *relates* you to it. That is a different claim. Relation is not retrieval. You do not get the whole back by decoding the symbol correctly or by integrating it efficiently. The symbol opens an ongoing contact with what is absent. The alienation it addresses is not solved; it is met.
This is why the healing Edinger names does not look like resolution. The potsherd placed against its partner is still a potsherd — two broken edges pressing together, the fracture still visible, the join itself the meaning.
Edward F. Edinger·Ego and Archetype: Individuation and the Religious Function of the Psyche·1972