The ancient world widely understood the human being as possessing two souls. In Old Norse, these are the Hamr and the Hugr. In Chinese religion, they are the Po 魄 and the Hun 魂. The Egyptians knew them as Ka and Ba. The Hebrews distinguished the Nephesh and the Neshama. Though the names differ, the structure is remarkably consistent, probably originating in Siberian shamanism and radiating outward through its Pagan descendants.

The Hugr is the spiritual soul — the Hun. It is your idea, your legacy, your aura, your personhood. At death, the Hugr departs the body and ascends to Heaven, becoming one with the spiritual realm. It is the part of you that thinks, that means, that carries identity beyond the flesh.

The Hamr is the earthly soul — the Po. It is your sense-consciousness, your physical awareness, your material instincts. At death, the Hamr lingers with the body and slowly dissipates as the corpse decays and returns to the earth. It is the part of you that feels, that desires, that is bound to matter.

This distinction has practical consequences the ancients took seriously. If the body never decays, the earthly soul cannot fully pass on. This is why the Norse burned the dead and their belongings — to hasten their passage from this world to the next. It is why an old Victorian house can feel "haunted." It is why the Catholics keep saints' relics on display.

The relationship between Hamr and Hugr maps directly onto the relationship between Hell and Heaven. Heaven is the realm of the Hugr — symbolism, idea, meaning, thought. Hell is the realm of the Hamr — the senses, desire, instinct, material will. And Midland, the realm we inhabit, is where both souls overlap: the living meeting of spirit and flesh, the sky above and the soil below.

This same duality expresses itself at every scale of the Manifold: as Insideness and Outsideness, as Waxer and Waner, as yang and yin. Hamr and Hugr are the most intimate and personal layer of this pattern — the fractal expressed within a single human life.