Aquaman and Dynamic Balance - The Way of Phi in Practice -

Between the sea and the land, life flows back and forth.

Dear  friend,

When I watched Aquaman the other night, I found myself mapping its world onto the deeper patterns I call the Linear, the Circular, and Dynamic Balance or Phi.

Beneath the special effects, sweeping visuals, and larger-than-life action lies an unexpectedly sharp metaphor for how worlds collide and how they might unite.

Spoiler alert: if you’re planning to watch the movie, you may want to do that first and then return to this reflection.

The Hero

Apart from the expected doses of excessive violence, the "unexpected" romantic twist, and a few well-worn tropes, I noticed some surprisingly fresh philosophical threads:

• A hero is more important than a king. While the king fights for his own people, the hero fights for everyone. In the language of The Way of Phi, the king has often come to represent the Linear. Perhaps at some point in the past the king was more divinely guided, as symbolised by the crown, but these days more often than not that seems to be a relic of the past, rather than a lived wisdom, weighed down with the strings tied to the title. The hero, on the other hand, enjoys unmatched freedom, seeing and serving the whole (the Circular), while still being anchored in his or her individuality through both strengths and vulnerabilities, thus embodying Dynamic Balance.

• The hero is a bridge between worlds. In The Way of Phi: Bridging Polarisation through Dynamic Balance, I explore how the most transformative figures are those who can move between polarities, build bridges between them, and indeed be the bridges between the worlds. In the movie, those worlds are the Land (Linear) and the Sea (Circular) and we learn that they are actually one (Phi).

Why is the Land Linear and the Sea Circular?

In the film, this plays out in both literal and symbolic ways:

• The hero’s father (Linear) comes from the land, while his mother (Circular) comes from the sea. Indeed, the father is a lighthouse keeper, which is interesting in its own right: a lighthouse is a very Linear land structure, guiding people through the Circular realms of the sea.

• Land dwellers pollute the sea: an unhealthy Linear mindset, focused on extraction and control without respect for the whole. They have lost their connection to the Circular.

• Sea dwellers live closer to nature, yet risk falling into their own imbalance: wanting to eradicate the land entirely in the name of a “greater good.”

This mirrors real-world polarisation, where each side sees the flaws of the other but not its own, and where noble causes can curdle into destructive extremes.

Over the course of the film, this begins to shift. The female lead experiences the joys of life on land; in one surreal scene, she receives roses and promptly eats them, prompting the male protagonist to do the same. It’s a strange moment, but perhaps an unconscious nod to how awkward it can be for the Circular or Feminine to adapt to Linear customs, and vice versa. Sometimes we may even go out of our way to accommodate the other: We "eat roses" despite knowing it's not how things are typically done. And who knows, maybe that's exactly when we discover something new and unexpectedly potent.

It also hints at the deeper truth that the Linear has long dominated our world, and that rebalancing does not mean rejecting it entirely. We must be careful not to “throw out the baby with the bath water.”

The turning point

The resolution comes when the protagonist feels fear and is therefore ready to face the great monster guarding the magical trident. By confronting his fear, he earns the right to wield it and thus gains proof that he is the true king. While the hero gains recognition in the sea, the film leaves us uncertain about his role on land, which could be seen as a reminder that integration between worlds is an ongoing activity, always moving, shifting, breathing...

Who can move between worlds?

 

In Aquaman, only the royals can breathe both air and water. The rest are confined to one realm. It’s a striking metaphor for how most people define themselves by a single identity, be it “engineer” or “artist,” “rational” or “emotional”, while forgetting that we each carry both halves within us.

Perhaps the rare individuals who can truly inhabit both worlds do have a unique responsibility to serve as bridges in times of transformation. If that’s true, then their role is not only rare but absolutely necessary, especially now in these times of extreme polarisation.

I would love to hear your thoughts, especially on whether you think the ability to bridge worlds is an innate gift, a cultivated skill, or something else entirely.

Call to Action

We are all, in our own individual ways, lighthouse keepers, tending a light that that is uniquely ours, yet instantly recognisable as a signal towards something both safe and full of possibility.

Some days, this light shines steady, guiding others through the storm with ease. Other days, it flickers, and we need to tend it carefully, so it doesn't go out.

My work is about helping you keep that light alive, so that even in the darkest nights, you not only find your own way, but also guide others to safe harbours.

If you feel the call to become that kind of beacon, for yourself and those around you, then let’s begin: Click here and we'll talk!

With gratitude,

Christopher