Synchronicity... and Waking the Tiger

3rd Century BC statue of Athena,
Musee du Louvre

There ain't nothin' in this whole wide dispensabubble cosmos a-better to show one that one's on the right track, than a run of good ol' synchronicities. I've heard it said, by none less than the venerable Ch'an Buddhist Master Sheng Yen, that when a person gets onto the path of enlightenment a thousand Bodhisattvas will pop up, out of the woodwork, as it were, to help him along the way.

The Aegis

Be that as it might - and it might as well, although I'll grant that all of the above could be construed as flights of fancy - I was pleasantly surprised to have my re-interpretation of the Medusa myth doubly confirmed during a recent trip to Paris. Firstly, while touring the Louvre, I came across two ancient statues of Athena... both bearing the Aegis with the Gorgon's head: one of them even had snakes as the decoration on her robe. Disregarding the ban on photography, I took this here snap, for you, dear blogophile. And then, not 20 minutes later I went for a sit down in the Tuileries, and started to read a new book, that I'd brought along for just such idle moments on my travels: In an Unspoken Voice, by Peter A. Levine.

Flabbergasted is not the word. Levine mentions Medusa as an ancient example of a traumatised person... his interpretation of the story is not identical to mine, but it's close enough for my jaw to drop as quick as a guillotine, much to the puzzlement of a passing party of Chinese holidaymakers.

Levine does point out one feature of the tale that I hadn't noticed... it is the look of fear in Medusa's eyes that turns people to stone, rather than anger or hideous snakiness!


I think the ideas from the book are worthy of dissemination, so I'll give them a write-up in another post. For now, here's a paragraph from Chapter 3, dealing with Medusa.

"The Greek myth of Medusa captures the very essence of trauma, and describes it's pathway to transformation.
[...] those who looked directly into Medusa's eyes were promptly turned to stone... frozen in time.[ ...] There is more to this myth. out of Medusa's wound, two mythical entities emerged: Pegasus the winged horse and the one-eyed giant Chrysaor, the warrior with the golden sword. The golden sword represents penetratng truth and clarity. The horse is a symbol of the body and instinctual knowledge; the wings represent transcendence. Together they suggest transformation through the living body.Together these aspects form the archetypal qualities and resources that a human must mobilise to heal the Medusa (fright paralysis) of trauma.."


More on Levine and his theory of trauma to follow. Stay tuned ;   

Sympathy for The Gorgon, Part 2

Athena wearing the Aegis, from the tale
of Jason and the Golden Fleece 

In this image, Athena is seen defeating a sea monster. She bears the gorgon's head on her breastplate, the Aegis.  This word aegis signified various things, including a violent wind and a shield. Are we to infer that the horrid gaze of Medusa is Athena's last and most powerful line of defence? Athena represents rational strategy and planning, the rule of law, and social order... but when attacked, she will employ a more primal power?

The Gorgons are an ancient branch in the family tree of gods and titans... more ancient than Athena, and her Johnny-come-lately kinsfolk. In one account, they were spawned by the primal sea deity Phorcys, and are therefore grandchildren of Gaia, mother earth. The gorgons are monstrous forces of nature.

So what is the Gorgon Medusa doing as a mortal skivvy in Athena's temple?  Could it be that Medusa's humanity depends on her paying homage to rationality, purity and wisdom? Or  is the great poet Ovid just playing loose with the original legend in order to spin his yarn?

If you ask me (and you may as well - you read this far already... good for you) poetic licence is being put to excellent use here: Medusa's personality in the original was a bit too one-sided, and so was Athena's. It was just a case of good goddess v. bad gorgon. Ovid adds a twist. In his version, Athena is way too much of a Type A personality (a narcissist, we might add) and  Medusa is a Type C (some would say schizoid-oral). Athena goes around with a pickle up her arse: overbearing, officiously godly and deeply intolerant of playboys, tramps and unwashed hippies. Medusa is a compulsive caretaker, who sees others' needs as more important than her own. She can't express anger, and can't say no effectively.

Then along came a randy Poseidon.

Now, the goddess is well known for giving short shrift to lechery (she speared Hephaestos in the crotch for getting too feisty), so she ain't no easy lay. Even so she surely reckons she's the only broad worth having in that particular temple, and she would like the attention - just with a little more wooing... and less rape. Poseidon, however, picks Medusa. This should be no surprise: Medusa's demure exterior only barely conceals her heaving, monstrous sexual appetite - whether she knows it or not.

Poseidon knows.

And so, with little further a-do, the poor Gorgon is left with all her illusions shattered, traumatised and distraught. But Athena can't see it that way: her wrath is not directed at Poseidon: sea-gods will be sea-gods after all. She feels rejected by him, but takes it out on Medusa, projecting all her anger and sexual frustration onto the Gorgon, who is much more in touch with her passionate side... Even though poor Medusa was scrupulously avoiding those passions all along, as best she could.

Oh, Woe!

And there we leave our sad tale for now. Athena (being an eternal archetype of the mind) may never loosen up and get herself a toyboy. Medusa will always be just another snaky head in a bag, c'est la mythe grecque.

But we mortals are a bit more resilient, and can recover from such nastiness. Find out how in Part III, when we look at Perseus, Danae, and Andromeda. Stay tuned folks. ;