Cupid and Psyche
This is my favorite one, so I had better make it good. The story of a human girl more lovely than any goddess, who marries a god. Or is he? When Psyche's parents consult the oracle of Apollo about her marital prospects, they are told, "Her future husband is a monster, whom neither gods nor men can resist." After the nuptials are performed, he only comes to her at night, in the darkness. That's the rule.
Psyche's envious, wicked sisters persuade her that she is lying with a monster. So poor Psyche smuggles a lamp into the bedchamber to have a look at her sleeping husband. "She silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld, not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods.." Leaning in for a closer look, a drop of burning oil falls on his shoulder, waking him. That is the end of the happy part.
Psyche now must wander through the world, searching for what she has lost, performing laborious, undignified tasks, enduring suffering and misfortune at every turn. Aphrodite (surely the mother-in-law from hell) sets her an impossible task, to separate out a vast mound of millet, wheat, and other grains. But Love comes to the rescue, and Cupid sends an army of ants to do her work. Aphrodite even sends poor Psyche on an errand to Hell, which she is sure must be her doom. Yet Love saves her, once again, from the box of Stygian sleep.
The fall of the Towers on this day three years ago was our "burning oil" moment. Until then we were charmed, lucky, and safe. Most of us had no idea that there were people who hated us so fiercely that they would metaphorically clean, skin, and eat us just because we were Americans. We thought our enemies were just potential friends that we hadn't done enough for yet. So we had to wake up. Our careless happiness was gone.
Now like Psyche, we move carefully and cautiously in the World. We look for charms and rituals to bring the happy times back, to armor us still in the certainty that we are the favoured of the gods and we can be what we were. And like Psyche, we are saved by Love, the love of our country, the love of our children, families and friends, the love we we feel for the rest of our tribe. We love life. And love is a fine armor and weapon against an enemy that can only hate.
The tale of Cupid and Psyche is usually considered allegorical. The Greek word psyche means butterfly, and soul. Psyche represents the human soul in the fable, purified by suffering and finally prepared for true happiness. Like Eve and Adam, Psyche is cast out of paradise, and must labour to recover what has been lost.
We grieve today for the loss of our innoccence, but in some corner of our collective American soul we believe we can yet make the world safe for our children. We are still raw with agony. But we are stronger and fiercer and purer each day. We will remake it, better than it was. And we will never slumber again, never forget!
"They wove bright fables in the days of old
When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings,
When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold,
And told in song its high and mystic things..." -- T. K. Harvey
Psyche's envious, wicked sisters persuade her that she is lying with a monster. So poor Psyche smuggles a lamp into the bedchamber to have a look at her sleeping husband. "She silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld, not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods.." Leaning in for a closer look, a drop of burning oil falls on his shoulder, waking him. That is the end of the happy part.
Psyche now must wander through the world, searching for what she has lost, performing laborious, undignified tasks, enduring suffering and misfortune at every turn. Aphrodite (surely the mother-in-law from hell) sets her an impossible task, to separate out a vast mound of millet, wheat, and other grains. But Love comes to the rescue, and Cupid sends an army of ants to do her work. Aphrodite even sends poor Psyche on an errand to Hell, which she is sure must be her doom. Yet Love saves her, once again, from the box of Stygian sleep.
The fall of the Towers on this day three years ago was our "burning oil" moment. Until then we were charmed, lucky, and safe. Most of us had no idea that there were people who hated us so fiercely that they would metaphorically clean, skin, and eat us just because we were Americans. We thought our enemies were just potential friends that we hadn't done enough for yet. So we had to wake up. Our careless happiness was gone.
Now like Psyche, we move carefully and cautiously in the World. We look for charms and rituals to bring the happy times back, to armor us still in the certainty that we are the favoured of the gods and we can be what we were. And like Psyche, we are saved by Love, the love of our country, the love of our children, families and friends, the love we we feel for the rest of our tribe. We love life. And love is a fine armor and weapon against an enemy that can only hate.
The tale of Cupid and Psyche is usually considered allegorical. The Greek word psyche means butterfly, and soul. Psyche represents the human soul in the fable, purified by suffering and finally prepared for true happiness. Like Eve and Adam, Psyche is cast out of paradise, and must labour to recover what has been lost.
We grieve today for the loss of our innoccence, but in some corner of our collective American soul we believe we can yet make the world safe for our children. We are still raw with agony. But we are stronger and fiercer and purer each day. We will remake it, better than it was. And we will never slumber again, never forget!
"They wove bright fables in the days of old
When reason borrowed fancy's painted wings,
When truth's clear river flowed o'er sands of gold,
And told in song its high and mystic things..." -- T. K. Harvey
posted by jinnderella at 1:40 AM
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