In the favor of guidance the true essence of the god is manifested. He is the lord of roads. By the roadsides lay the heaps of stones (hermaion) from which he received his name; the passerby threw a stone upon them.®! One such "hill of Hermes" is mentioned in the Odyssey;*? it lay above the town. Upon the stone heap there rose the familiar square pillars of the god with human head, the "herms,'°3 which, in any case, had to have a substructure. These herms stood conspicuously at roadsides, at the entrances of cities and houses, and at the boundaries of markets and districts. A series of epithets honor Hermes as god of ways and entries, as conductor and guide. He is the natural protector of travellers, in-cluding, of course, merchants. In older works of art he himself often appears as a traveller, wearing the traveller's hat. His pace is always rapid, indeed flying. The speed which distinguishes him is indicated by the wings on his hat. He possesses "golden" sandals "with which he could fly like the wind over land and sea."54 This is an apt picture of his nature. Wherever an entry is made, wherever a road is travelled, there the wonderful companion is at hand.
— Walter F. Otto
Hermes does not wait at the destination. He is the god who appears in the travelling itself — at the threshold, on the road, at the boundary stone where one jurisdiction ends and another begins. Otto is tracking something precise here: the heaps of stone were not shrines to petition, not temples to enter. They were accumulations, each traveller adding a stone, the divinity growing out of the gesture of passing. The herm marks the fact that someone crossed this place before you and acknowledged the crossing.
What this means is that guidance, in the Homeric imagination, is not a property of having arrived or knowing where you are going. It inheres in the act of transit itself — the moment of entry, the road taken, the boundary acknowledged. Hermes with his winged sandals moves faster than intention; he is already at the next crossing before you have decided to go there. The "wonderful companion" is not a comfort behind you but a presence that is structurally ahead, already in the next threshold, pulling the traveller by the logic of the journey rather than by the traveller's plan.
There is something here that resists the soul's wish for a guide who knows the destination. Hermes does not know; he *is* the movement. What he offers is not certainty about arrival but the strange company available only to those already in motion.
Walter F. Otto·The Homeric Gods: The Spiritual Significance of Greek Religion·1929