"GUIDE OF SOULS" is the usual translation given to the Hermes epithet "Psychopompos" and it refers to his role as the god who leads souls into the underworld when they die. But πομπός (still present in every French funeral store's "Pompes funèbres" description of itself) is more than guide, and even more than guide to the underworld. It means to lead, but Hermes as leader is not quite right either. It means something more like to lead on. Hermes is the god who "leads you on." Perhaps it is not the same in Hungarian, but in American English this means he is deceiving you, taking advantage of your gullibility, "taking you for a ride." That, however, is how Hermes works, and how he gets your "soul" to move anywhere, how he gets you to budge even a hair off whatever rigid position you're in-even off a Jungian position if that is where all your hair is. This is no mean trick, especially these days when Greek gods are no longer supposed to be anything but artifacts of one dead ancient white culture (out of many) and "soul" is lambasted as a meaninglessly vague buzzword used by hopelessly imprecise New Agers with dubious academic credentials and not a left-brain to be found in their heads. Reader, mon semblable, mon frère, all I am trying to say in this overcharged 1990s preface that Kerényi himself would have been much too civilized and circumspect to write, is this: go ahead and buy the Brooklyn Bridge from this man. Be had. Be incorrect. Be foolish. You pay with your soul for this kind of reading. And Hermes does not take plastic.
— Karl Kerényi
Kerényi is describing something you have almost certainly already tried to protect yourself against. The soul's movement requires a specific kind of surrender to a figure who cannot be trusted in the ordinary sense — which is to say, a figure who cannot be captured by whatever position currently holds you. The "Jungian position" Hillman names is just one example; substitute your framework, your therapeutic lexicon, your conviction that you understand what your dreams are doing, and the sentence still bites. Hermes moves you not by persuading you but by making you a fool before you notice.
The defense against this is not stupidity. It is, paradoxically, the highly intelligent determination to remain correct — to stay in the grid of already-understood meanings, to read depth psychology the way you read a policy brief. That determination is what leaves you immobile. Hermes offers no high road, no breakthrough, no genuine-growth narrative at the end. He offers the Brooklyn Bridge, which you know perfectly well is not for sale. You pay anyway. What Kerényi's editor is pointing toward is that the foolishness of that payment is not a regrettable side effect of hermeneutic engagement — it is the engagement itself. The soul does not move through comprehension. It moves through being had.
Karl Kerényi·Hermes Guide of Souls·1944