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Exploring the Mysteries of Personal Mythology

(it is suggested to print this out for reading)

1: Connecting the Dots in Greek Myth

A myth is really so much more than just a story. And a metaphor is so much more than just a comparison. They are the keys to connecting the personal to something beyond, guideposts to a much larger realm than what is seen. And while the supernatural events of a myth may seem wildly entertaining, their interpretations hold important clues to the great cosmic mystery of this waking dream we call life. How I relate to myths determines what gets revealed about myself, and the world I live in.

The Greeks were always so good about using myths to describe human nature and the ways of the universe. I could get more into various religious stories and parables, but people get so intensely heated up over them, so I like to deal with myths we can all agree are metaphorical and not to be taken literally. No matter how many times I hear the Greek myths, I cannot help but fall into their embrace in new ways and new relationships as I proceed through life. But I don’t glamorize that past. My philosophy is to take the best of the past with the best of the modern to create the best future. The greatness of a good myth is how frequently it resurfaces in modern ways.

It’s no surprise Greek myths often involved stellar constellations, for wherever they traveled when telling their tales the canvas of stars above provided all the illustration needed. I imagine the stars as constant companions, a quick glance into a clear night’s sky would put one back amongst their friends. How I miss out on the full familiarity of a bright field of stars in a modern world. I took an astronomy course as a teenager, but of course I’ve forgotten all but a handful of it.

Nevertheless I can play my own game of “connect the dots” with the stars and with the stories. Only unlike the simple childhood version, there aren’t numbers marking the progression that reveals the picture. Sure our society mostly follows the Greek method for outlining constellations, but every culture had their own way of doing it. The picture that gets revealed is unique to each individual, particularly in factoring detailed connections. Indeed astrology has us born with a very particular pattern divided into 12 broad units of the Zodiac, and most of us stop our understanding there. We may find a few short lines and the small picture does us quite fine. No need to proceed. But indeed, there are many more lines connecting us in many more subtle ways should we choose to look further.

It’s the process of realizing synchronicities, seeing parallels, and making connections that captivates me. As more lines are drawn with the imagination, the simple picture often blurs as the image expands. It can be quite confusing, but I do my best to trust that sooner or later it will make sense again. I find it necessary to step back and take it all in from a new perspective. And in looking back upon what I thought I already knew I discover there are things I overlooked. Each reinvestigation uncovers new facts, new parallels, growing and changing, resonating with new wonder.

For example, you’ve surely heard the myth of Icarus. And yet, last I checked, despite all warnings, we’re still flying closer to the sun. A society growing ever higher in our flights of fancy. All the while burning away all the hours of ancient sunlight. But how much longer can we ignore our wings of wax, melting as rapid as the icebergs? Best to remember that there were two flying in the sky that day. Only the youth who ignored the wise ways of the older met a wet fate.

How about the tale of the ghastly beast at the center of the mad king’s labyrinth? To meet and defeat this bullheaded Minotaur takes more than pure muscle. If it were not for the love of Ariadne to guide Theseus through the maze, all would be lost. Is it not best to have your heart on the other end of the string to guide you through the depths of logic’s loops? A battle’s victory is meaningless if you can’t find your way out. To later abandon the heart, just as Ariadne was eventually left behind, will only prove to bring great loss. We cannot hide the black sails of those we lose in foreign lands.

So you think you know the story of Narcissus? That sought after young beauty turned all would be suitors away, including the fragile Echo who could only offer up a pale repetition of his words instead of anything new. So she literally pined away while he fell madly in love with his reflection before falling within the water. A flower bloomed to mark his drowning, or so it seemed from this side of the mirrored surface. But perhaps there is much more to this story than meets the eye of the beholder upon the shore. There we go again making assumptions based upon appearances. Perhaps we need a more in depth investigation to behold the truth, not unlike the depths in which Narcissus plunged.

What of poor Orpheus, the master poet and musician who charmed all with his song? He lost his fair love and in going to impossible ends to retrieve it, discovers that impatience got the best of him. Was not his lesson that in looking back he could not save what was already gone? Rumor has it that henceforth he swore off women for young boys, such reminders perhaps of his youth? But he also swore off his devotion to both the gods and his god-given talent of song. It was for that neglect he was ripped apart by a frenzy of religious zealots, and therefore literally became a broken man.

Do you recall the punishment of Sisyphus? He failed to exhibit courtesy to foreign travelers and guests in his kingdom, treating them not with kindness or extending an open hand, but with death. His hubris placed his cleverness amongst the gods, and he spoke of them without respect. Thus when his earthly life expired he found himself cursed to an eternity of repeating the pointless task of rolling a boulder up a hill only to have it fall back down and have to start all over again and again. Indeed how frustrating it is to repeat the same blunders. Best to learn the lesson in this short life no matter how many tries it takes than deal with it forever.

Who would dare forget about the horror of the Gorgon’s stare? A writhing mass of serpentine hair turns those who gaze upon her sight into stone. Best to chop off that head, but even then we cannot look upon that dread. Yet here we are, still gawkers of despair. Where media frenzies and terrorizing tragedies transfix our focus, and thus we are frozen unable to turn away.

Perhaps like me you never heard of Asklepius before, although his tale may resonate some familiarity. Like many mythic heroes, he was more than a mere mortal. Born to a human mother, but fathered by sun god Apollo and raised in mentorship by the wise centaur Chiron. Asklepius was master of medicine, a doctor serving humanity with all manner of cures often gathered from his association with dreams and snakes. Snake oil anyone? He was even known to possess some of the blood of the deceased Gorgon. Where the blood, taken from her left side was vicious poison, blood from her right could bring people back to life. The ill traveled far and wide to the vast network of hospital-like temples in his name. His staff, entwined with a singular snake became the symbol for our modern medical world. He was known for his ability to raise people from the dead. This did not sit well with Zeus, especially as the good doctor took money for his patients’ eternal life. So in always striving to keep a balance of power between man and gods, Zeus picked up his bolts and struck Asklepius down. But his death did not last for long either, and eventually he was resurrected so that he could continue to heal all those who sought his help. But the eternal life he now gave was not to be in physical terms.

I’m sure you know of the Satyrs. Aside from their name, their horns and goat-like hooves may ring a bit devilish. Could it be these frisky and frolicking beasts, known for sexual proclivity and fun times with nymphs, were deemed as evil through more prudish eyes. Perhaps it was because their leader Pan, who played the pipes, could induce mankind to panic that further attributed a bad name to such fun-loving herdsman. And so the good-natured satyrs orgiastic rites were looked upon with disdain and evil they since became.

Then there’s that woman of similar name and disrepute, Pandora and her miserable box! Another tale of how the first woman bears responsibility for a curiosity that unleashed all the evils of mankind. It is said she closed the box before the final element of hope could escape. All of this yet another misguided and misogynistic manipulation of the events. If we only look behind the public relations spin we’d find she was set up by the gods for what a man, Prometheus did in giving us the secrets of fire. Perhaps we should really be angry at him for unleashing all those horrors. He gave us the gods’ knowledge of fire, and the gods later punished him accordingly. But while we now have fire to warm our homes, we also have fire to burn down the homes of others. Are we sure the secrets were worth the curse? We’ve even split the atom fire, but have yet to split the blame. Perhaps after years of shaming the feminine, it is time to reopen our interpretation of this myth and convince poor Pandora to do likewise. Let us pray that there is indeed still hope left inside that box to share.

Perhaps you are not so aware of the twins Kastor and Polydeuces. In many portrayals they are born of the same mother, but have different fathers. One fraternal twin’s egg was fertilized by that of a human, the other from the god Zeus. Kastor the mortal son, Polydeuces the immortal. But when the human one finally died the godly one so cried, and thus sacrificed his immortality and struck a deal, so the brothers could alternate their lives throughout eternity. In looking to the stars they twinkle within Gemini. While one lives a human life on earth, the other looks on from the heavens, until the time comes they switch places. Content in this arrangement they remain together forever. It is here that I gaze upon my own twin in the stars, the symbolism of this myth comforting my heart. Perhaps too all of us upon the Earth could see the sun and moon as such twin spirits, who share their time in the sky. A bright and ancient sun shines upon the day with the more subtle and reflective moon taking on the night.

Oh, how the exploration of these myths and the writing of these words whirl and twirl, rumble and tumble inside my spinning head, and should I stumble in the process of organizing them, then surely I must take it as a sign to be humble. For I’m definitely engaged in an ongoing wrestling match with Proteus, and while I do my best to pin him down, he never stays still for long.

2. Wrestling with Proteus

Perhaps, like myself many years ago, you are not as familiar with his tale as other myths. In many versions he is made out to be the son of Poseidon, but it is believed he actually originates much further back in time then that god, connected to the ancient Titans Nereus and Oceanus, the world ocean, when the Earth was covered by one enormous unified body of water. Thus Proteus, a name related to the word for “firstborn” is known as “The Old Man of the Sea.” Like the god himself, myths go through so many changes; it is hard to trace the precise origins. He possesses two great powers. One is the ability to prophesize the future, but he is a crafty one, and will only share it to those capable of holding him down long enough. And that is where the true test lies, for this second talent is shape shifting.

With Proteus you never know what you’ll have to deal with. You may find yourself fending off the jaws of a lion one moment, and just when you think you know how to deal with that brute strength, you’ll have a fist full of water slipping through your fingers. Figure a way to scoop it up and you’ll discover a mighty and imposing tree with deep immovable roots. Chop that down and flock of birds will leave only feathers in their wake. Cage them and the vapor mist of clouds diffuses all your efforts.

Thus has been my challenge, perhaps for many lifetimes, but particularly now in communicating this here story to you. For daily there are new visions to complicate the revisions of a writing that expresses the myriad thoughts in constant flux. New ideas appear to draw away attention as I follow the many twists of Proteus throughout my lifetime of creative expression. But for now it seems enough of him has been grasped in which to share. I think he’s being kind.

But I find such amazing lessons in grappling with this protean energy, especially when I fail. For it is said that change is the only constant in life. How much this metaphor god has seen: from ancient days when first life was only in the water, to when life emerged forth onto land, and to all the cycles since. Surely Proteus as shape-shifter is connected to the changes of evolution. No wonder some feel threatened by the grand confusing complexity of deep time; creationism comforts with its simplicity. But if humanity is to ride the waves of time and all the storms that rage, it is best to be familiar with the powers of transformation and prophecy, and so it is the shape-shifter that must be engaged if we are to have a future.

One of the few to have passed Proteus’ challenge, was curiously enough a beekeeper named Aristaeus. He was another son of Apollo. His mother was the daughter of a king, and a huntress whom the god fell in love with after he saw her defeat a lion with her bare hands. Aristaeus was responsible for learning and developing many practical earthly arts, bee-keeping key among them. But one day upon going to his hives, he discovered all his bees were dead or dying. It was then he was told to seek out the secrets of Proteus. Perhaps his mother’s nerve and father’s powers helped him succeed in the rare task of holding Proteus down. The prophetic answer he finally acquired after the lengthy struggle was that if he sacrificed 12 animals in proper manner to the gods, healthy bees would return upon the third day, a most magical and common amount of time to pass for many a resurrection it seems.

Now that we find the bees once more in peril, could this Proteus myth hold answers again? Perhaps the 12 animals could be seen as the 12 months of the Zodiac, which literally means a circle of animals. And although the zodiac signs we know today include human figures, in some earlier accounts they are all animals. The Gemini sign for example is, in some cases, depicted as twin goats. Then too there is the ancient Chinese zodiac, while not linked to the stars it includes 12 animals. If we symbolically sacrificed a year (or longer depending upon which zodiac), and paid tribute to the gods of the Earth, by stopping the use of pesticides, poisons and other pollutants, might that be what is needed to bring them back? Of course, much more than the lives of bees are at stake, and yet we seem unwilling to sacrifice any aspect of our modern imbalance.

To explore the mysteries of Proteus is to follow a calling that stirs up all manner of feelings. It is not an easy struggle. But the engagement of the task brings up an appreciation to the glory and splendor that is the diversity of life. In the protean lens, life in all its measureless forms is the Divine’s will to manifest in all creatures great and small, and thus with that follows the importance of cherishing every single life on Earth. Creation is a sacred act, and every life form valuable, for the secret divinity it holds.

But there is another great lesson of life that Proteus provides in his tussle: nothing remains the same forever. Forms come and go, just as archeology has proven life has gone through many rebegins. Species and civilizations rise and fall in their dominion of the planet. Similarly, the gentle caress of illumination and the relieving breath of bliss, can settle upon my heart one moment, but take flight in the next instant. A glimpse of inspired thought and feeling can vanish as quickly as it came.

Yet, there comes an awareness of the surprises that wait around the corner. Stick around. Wait. Just as good forms go, so do bad ones. There are always new, unpredictable experiences. Only the rare ones who keep up with the protean changes, adapting with the times, will receive that promised future. But how does one keep up with all of the changes? How does one keep from getting dizzy on the wild ride? How does one keep hold in the moments when life is so fleeting?

The key I suppose is to give it your all and keep breathing.

3. Emerging from the Cave / How About Them Apples

I am thrilled to say that my hibernation period was the best thing I could have done at the time in which it was done, and that there is much more of it to be done.

Going into this process, my ambitious thoughts were that I would metaphorically receive my Masters Degree in “me” by the end of the hibernation. Instead I discovered I finally got my BA. Which is actually much better news, for it means there’s that much more to grow into. Of course this search to discover just who I am requires an enormous amount of exhausting research. To do it properly requires an examination not only of the essential meaning of my years on Earth thus far, but all of past history, which formulates the background before I was born that built up to this moment in which I exist. And life in this moment it appears is exponentially growing. To neglect all of those things is meaningless, to achieve it is implausible, and to attempt it is at best admirable and at worst foolish.

Yet, that is collectively what we do. While scientists make new discoveries, artists create new realities, philosophers reveal new possibilities, and etc., etc. While one person is experiencing and living out their life and discovering what it means to be them, another person can go about their own unique method. We are all the dots. The more we connect, the bigger the picture. And then there’s the concept of a holographic universe, where a fraction of the whole contains the entire picture. One could theoretically “connect all the dots” by just paying attention to one’s inner realm.

The trouble is that is merely the theory of how life works. Most people are not even allowed the freedom to explore who they are, to be fully themselves, to be a contributing member of this planet involved in this web of life. Of course, one could argue it is their role to live out the life of an oppressed and suppressed individual. It certainly paints the entire spectrum to have all sides. But how does one really know that for sure? The freedom to choose is the perhaps the best course. But achieving the wisdom of how to consciously do that is the tricky part. How does one learn about the responsibilities and choices in life and share that? Personally, I’m sick of all the missions to spread the “good word”, for in spite of all the good intentions; they’ve often been blinded by their zeal and just perpetuated the chaos. But somehow there must be the encouragement to explore life consciously and the freedom to do so. Even in this country and at this place in history, where we are fortunate to have enormous amounts of freedoms beyond probably any other time ever, the laws and customs have yet to reflect the true mission of equality. Well, I suppose that is the marvel of humanity in progress. Sooner or later we just might catch up, if we don’t burn ourselves out in the process. Or maybe we’ll reach it just as we burn out. Poof!

So I holed myself up for a few weeks from the rest of the world. I don’t think they noticed, and that’s just fine. I’ve enjoyed working under the radar for the most part. You see, honestly in my lifetime of self-discovery and self-expression in being human I’ve been inappropriately focused upon and worried about the bad apples in the bunch. It’s why for years of my life from childhood until recent adulthood I opted for being alien, which naturally only lead to self-imposed alienation. I just couldn’t accept the insanity of humanity. I grew up Catholic and at an early age was not only angry at humans for crucifying Christ, but for doing it again and again in his name by twisting what he stood for into an insane mockery that pitted humans against each other. Could they not see the principles of Christ in all things? Could they not see he wasn’t the only one teaching similar insights? Oh, all of this one and only stuff just creates exclusion and a way for the church to exact control. How I became sick with all the institutionalized focus on rules, regulations, blame, shame, and the gore of the Passion! All that attention on a bloody body as the primary symbol has just made more bloody bodies. So what I learned from all of that was to in turn blame all those bad apples for getting it wrong and making me feel wrong for wanting to be a big juicy apple that was fully me. But blaming others just put me into the same category of being a rotten apple. So I didn’t want to be any kind of apple at all out of disgust for what it meant to even be one. Maybe that’s why I was fond of oranges.

In the end of this hibernation process, I discovered that all the attention on the mythologizing the age of 33, the age where Christ died, while relevant for connecting dots to a higher calling, was quite silly. It merely beheld the fact that I am indeed human. A mere mortal, prone to mistakes and folly. And for that I am most grateful. For this research into what it means to be human has revealed that it is so much more than I ever realized. Somehow though I always unconsciously knew that. Each year that I embrace more of my humanity, gives me more insight into how possible it is to transcend the bad apple aspects and stretch toward something more. Shutting off most of the distractions helps to divert much needed attention to the inner realm, and the golden apples growing upon the tree of self-knowledge within. And those, let me tell you, are indeed worth biting into, and funny enough, I feel no shame for doing so. Eden still exists within.

So, yes, navigating through humanity involves encountering a lot of really downright rotten apples. Some really disgusting ones that I don’t want to touch or even smell. But, the great cycle of life teaches you need a little death to give life. I have to learn to love those rotten apples and count them as a blessing. You see, they’re making great fertilizer for the golden apple tree.

4. The Sample Platter Method

My life thus far has been like the sample platter from the appetizer menu. That combo, which usually contains some of the most delicious nibbles you could have asked for. It doesn’t completely satisfy you, but has been enjoyable, leaving you wanting more and looking forward to the main course. Unless you want to order another sampler, especially as your taste buds get used to the little morsels and each bite becomes more inviting. Inevitably though, one of the three or four items included in the platter is kind of a dud. It’s almost like it’s throw it in there to get rid of it somehow because no one ever orders it unless it’s in the combo. Life just has its share of those.

Anyway, I’ve certainly dabbled in several artistic realms. And the struggle I used to have with that is the Jack-of-All-Trades-Master-of-None Syndrome. Diffusing oneself into so many different areas can prove challenging to get things finished, and I dug up a lot of incomplete projects from the past while in hibernation.

However, I discovered that one exploration of an art medium helped to inform and enrich the other. While looking back on an old piece of writing, a recent collage piece helped illuminate a new direction for the story. The message I got strong and clear, was that it is just part of my own protean nature to morph from one art form to another, learning about myself and those mediums along the way, expanding slowly in various directions, building a fertile foundation. For any of us to deny who we are, to struggle with trying to fit into a mold only leads to unfulfillment. Instead follow Proteus’ moves, learn his rhythm, and go with his flow. Turn the tangle into a tango. Perhaps the key to wrestling Proteus is not in fighting him, but surrendering to him with full abandon.

5. Connecting Intention, Journals, Dirt Between Toes & “Roll” Models

The recent hibernation process helped to underscore the importance of intention. Being clear and stating one’s intent in any situation helps vibrate that energy. The manifestation of the intention usually does not look or occur at all like you’d expect it to, but the results are entirely based upon how much soulful intention you give. This is not some “secret” revealed to you in a book or a movie on how to get that gas-guzzling red car or your dream home that required raising a forest to build. It’s both far more complex and so utterly simple than we can fathom. I didn’t accomplish anything close to the amount that I intended on my hibernation, but the experience held such remarkable surprises and blessings. It was everything and nothing I had hoped for. I was reminded too, that patience does not always reward me with what I seek, but it always, always holds an important and unexpected gift. Whether or not I chose to receive it was up to my willingness to be open to it. And I’ve certainly failed and then kicked myself in the butt for not following my intuition. But I’m always so grateful and elated when I do.

During the process I took some time to delve into the past 20 years of journals and writing I’ve kept. Perhaps like Orpheus I should not have looked back, for there was so much loss to behold in all the unfinished plans proclaimed within. At a certain point it was overwhelming, but it offered up a fascinating perspective on my life. The journals revealed many details of I had forgotten about. Our culture as well forgets so many things, which is why it is amazing to be alive at a time where we have such access and detail to recorded history. It is incredible when we continue to discover new things about our present life and our past life on this planet. When I learn about some ancient wisdom or way of being that makes so much sense and yet is all but forgotten by current society, I have wondered, “Why have we forgotten such important and relevant wisdoms?” And then one day the answer came, “So we could experience that blissful moment of remembering.” It’s that magical moment when the dots come together, a confusing blur one moment, and then sharp resolution the next. It all makes sense, but then…it then Proteus may just take it out of focus again.

So there was a lot of blissful remembering and joy, especially to be found in the fact I was no longer exactly that old self reflected in the journals. Over time my writing became clearer and more passionate about life on a more consistent basis! Hooray for growth! Dredging through all the dark days, which often repeated the same issues not unlike Sisyphus, merely illuminated my intention to more consciously proceed in future journaling. And there were many passages that stood out like diamonds in the rough, which I intend to polish. Mixing metaphors, I created a new art piece which I intend to be the cover for a future collection of old writings that are being given new life. Based on a little poem I once wrote it is called “What Grows From the Dirt Between Toes.” The journal writings are like the dirt between the toes that is collected along the path of life. Rather than completely cleaning out that dirt, I’ll see what grows from it.

What I have grown keenly aware of, is how important teachers, mentors, and heroes have been in my life. Experience and Mother Nature are the greatest teachers, but when times get tricky having someone to illuminate the way has made all the difference. Looking at my journals I recognized how during my darker moments I would sound out the call for good mentorship – and poof – a short time later that intention would manifest in some remarkable ways. The journey has been quite a ride and I hope my art will reflect that. I hope someday the dots will connect there in greater ways. In the meantime, I really cannot thank enough all the people who have served my life as a “roll” model. A wide range of different teachers with different moves helping me figure out how to dance with this protean energy. So I follow their lead, learn from it and adapt the dance moves so that they become my own, resonating with what is right for me. Some “roll” models have been artists no longer alive on this planet, but knowing they existed and connecting with their art and/or their struggles has been an encouraging force. Not unlike the stars twinkling down from above.

6.Reflecting on Narcissus

While I do my best to keep on task with my creative endeavors, which means limiting my distractions, I’m aware that others may be doing the same in consideration of reading my words. I’m hopeful that isn’t the case, but realistic. If you’re a reader who made it this far, I want to know, so I can personally express my love to you for sticking with me!
All of this talk of the self can seem downright selfish. Self-reflection, self-discovery, and self-awareness can only mean I am in the realm of Narcissus! The process of seeking self-love. Like everything in life, there is a shadow side. That seems to be the aspect of Narcissus that most people think of when dealing with the mythic archetype. I too held for the longest time the perception that he was merely the boy who fell in love with his reflection, so self-absorbed he fell in the water and died. I regarded Narcissism with disdain, all the while diving full on into my own Narcissism.

I live in movie-star, model-star, art-star, porn-star, yoga-star, surface facade Hollywood, so it’s bound to happen at some point. But I was a mirror-junkie long before that. Our culture loves and admires beauty – always has! We’re concerned with looks. As a performer, especially in dance, I had to learn to use the mirror as a tool in which to know what it is that others are seeing. What we think we’re doing and what we’re actually projecting out into the world are often very different things, so having that mirror to reflect back to us helps. A lot of the time though the mirror could be cruel, and I confess most of the time I haven’t loved what I’ve seen, but I’ve learned to accept it.

I suppose that’s one reason I started taking photographs of myself. When I did catch a good moment, I had to preserve it to prove to myself that at one point I actually liked how I looked. But then I started to find that the face I saw directly reflected back in the mirror and what the camera captured were often two completely different images. It’s incredible how a slight shift in perspective, a slight alteration in where the observer is placed results in such remarkable changes that could make all the difference. The camera is the observer outside of self and produces a different image than I do behind the eye-camera of my soul. I want the image I see. I had to take far more pictures than I cared to in order to capture one look I even liked.

But all of that is merely one level of Narcissism. To me getting trapped in the surface reflection, and unable to move beyond the mirror’s gaze is hell. I did a section of a performance piece called “Red Lights” in which my character spends some time in their own personal shadow-sided Narcissistic hell, a dimension of mirrors reflecting back lots of two-dimensional images. Hell is being trapped there, incapable of going beyond to a third dimension, of really connecting with others. I used this concept again in the recent Invisible Theater production as a unicorn youth, who after getting wounded by the outside world gets caught up in a vain mirror hell.

Eventually I did a performance piece where I just tackled the myth of Narcissus directly. I figured I connected with him on multiple levels; I could present several different versions. My basic premise dealt with Narcissus in deep despair clawing at his face at the beginning of the piece, until a mirror is spread out in front of him and he falls in love with it. He actively steps through the mirror/water and chooses to drown smiling. The day I presented the piece I learned from a phone call that a teenage cousin back in Iowa committed suicide by drowning himself in a lake around the time I originally conceived the piece. It was haunting to perform, but seemed appropriate and another connection of dots.

Like all myths, there exist many variations in the story, which offer up their own particular twists on the theme. So over my hibernation I researched a bit more and discovered that in one version, Narcissus actually has a twin sister, who dies, leaving Narcissus quite forlorn. He was in love with her and so in grief, that when he saw his reflection in the water, he wanted so badly to believe it was her. Now that is indeed an interpretation of the myth that certainly draws me in further, connecting dots in ways with my dead twin I didn’t fully realize.

But there is yet another version of the story that I have known about for some time which offers up very rich interpretation which I prefer as a positive and meaningful journey. Narcissus did not really fall in love with himself or with his reflection; he fell in love with the River God, the spirit living in water that just happened to reflect him back. In this the shadow side of pure self-indulgent love transforms into the love for another, outside of self, but that offers up a reflection for self to connect with.

So Narcissus falls in love with the River God, but when he touches the water, the reflection disappears in the disturbance of the ripples. Perhaps symbolic of forgetting what it is that we love about ourselves or other people? Self-image can be distorted if dealt with too closely. The ripples fade and the image returns. Oh, but how can Narcissus truly embrace his love for the water? Did he fall in as some stories suggest? Or did he dive in? Perhaps he took the plunge and dove into the water, the symbolic realm of the unconscious! His intention was to experience that water from within it, not just from the surface reflection. He broke out of the personal hell of two-dimensional reflection into the deep, wet beyond. He bathed himself in the love of the unconscious realm and all the mysteries that existed on the other side of the mirror. And we all know that underwater lovemaking is sexy!

Now the question remains, did he drown in the waters of the unconscious? The myth reports that a flower bloomed where he disappeared. In some tales it is all that remains of him. His beauty was swallowed up. But what happens if we look at that flower not as a grave marker, but as a gift from him on the unconscious side to us here on this conscious side? A token of love to all those who approach the waters of self-reflection. Perhaps Narcissus still lives on, swimming away on the other side of the mirror, but we just can’t see him, because we can only see the surface reflecting back.

A ten year-old child I used to know quite well and then forgot about, wrote down a message for his future self to open one day. The message was a contained in a little folded piece paper with the mysterious words “IN AN EMERGENCY: OPEN.” I remember finding the message sometime during college. My recollection was that the message inside said to break the mirror. For years I kept that little mantra in the back of my mind. But what did “break the mirror” mean exactly? Was that child saying that he didn’t like his self-image? Was that child implying do something to shatter other people’s perceptions? Did it mean alter one’s appearance to experience different aspects? I tried all of it, all the while getting caught up in the maze of mirrors that an abundance of self-reflection can pose. Sometimes it’s a wild fun house, but often it’s a hellish labyrinth where the beast is your own shadow-side reflection. That child self was my Ariadne, and this emergency-message my string to guide me through.

And then while going through all those old journals during hibernation I discovered the little slip of paper again, which I hadn’t seen in ages! But the message inside was not quite what I remembered. It wasn’t simply “Break the Mirror.” There was much more to it. “Break the mirror and all your fears will be gone. Break the mirror and all your troubles shall be none.” Hmmm. Thank you little wise ten-year old me. And so after years of contemplation of the many mirrors and the many myths of Narcissus…I decided to finally follow what the instructions said.

SHATTER! SPLASH!

To be continued…