Hero: A Woman, a Myth but not a Guy.

Hero is the name of a young woman.

 Hero has her own myth. She was purportedly the priestess of Aphrodite, which is interesting because her name has more to do with the Great Goddess Hera, and names have symbolic meaning.|One can hypothesize that this myth once belonged to Hera and only later was attributed to Aphrodite or that Aphrodite was once one of the many faces of Hera, the Great Goddess, The Great Goddess had three faces: youth, matron and crone. Aphrodite is somewhere between youth and matron, sexual but not pregnant or doing all she can to get pregnant but not yet there. Lastly, one may suggest that Hero's mom liked the name, except that it was common for priestesses to take a new name when going into service like nuns do today.

 The myth is even stranger than the names imply,  Hero stays in a tower by the sea. We can hear the beginnings of fairy tales like Rapunzel and other captured maiden stories or can we? Like Rapunzel, Hero has a lover, here named Leander, who must cross the sea to be with her in her secluded location. Nightly, he swims out to her. She keeps a lit lantern out for him. It must have been pretty big to be seen a mile away. That is the distance Leander had to swim across the Hellespont. These lovely meetings went on all summer.



It is not until winter storms come that there is trouble in paradise. One terrible night, the sea is whipped by storms and Leander is beaten by the once docile waves. A cruel wind blows out Hero's torch. Leander is either overcome by the current or lost in the darkness. His body is found the next day.

There are a lot of unanswered questions in this myth. My husband asked," Why didn't he just use a boat?" Yeah. Why didn't he? That s a great question. I asked why Hero was sitting alone by the sea? Where was everybody else all night long? And there are a lot more weird little details in this myth that make you not want to take it at face value.

So, let's pick it apart. Now, we know Aphrodite is associated with the sea, water, and fecundity. Moisture and women, or their vaginas, always go together in symbolism. Still, Hero seems quite alone to be a Priestess; there is not even Poseidon who drowned Leander. It is empty of sisters, townspeople and even friends.

Another important unexplained detail is that Leander is from Abydos, a town in Asia Minor, while Hero is from Greece. Now those two regions had been enemies for a while--think Trojan War. Abydos is listed as an ally of Troy in The Iliad. Later, it would be the launching point for the Persian Xerxes in his invasion of Greece, and it would be celebrated by the historian Polybius for resisting Philip of Macedon (Alexander the Great's father). So, here we have a young girl, a priestess, in a tower that overlooks the sea. She has a lantern in the window. She sounds like she is a part of a modern day lighthouse. She keeps the light or holy flame going to keep ships and things safe for passage.

So what is she watching for? Hero might be there to see if enemy ships were coming across; we don't know if there was animosity between Europe and Asia at the time, but it is interesting that she is overlooking the body of water between what might be enemy countries.  If there was even a bit of tension between these peoples that would add to the proto-Romeo-and-Juliet element in the story. Shakespeare was aware of  the story and mentions it in "Two Gentlemen of Verona."  Two lovers from opposite sides of the Hellespont, from two different continents and from two different peoples fall in love. He must swim under cover of night to be with his beloved in a "love conquers all" kind of thing. This may be how it originally began, or not.  It  sounds good though.

We can presuppose that Hero is the guardian or protector of the light at the lighthouse/temple. She  has a lot of people's lives in her hands. Tending the flame was most likely an all-important task. Hero was important. Her ministering the flame may have saved may lives. We know that on stormy nights the light in a lighthouse is all that may stand between a sailor and certain death. The tragedy then is that the storm blows out the eternal flame in the lighthouse, which could have also been a shrine or temple in old days that served as a place of worship and and light for ships.

When then light goes out in a storm, that is a catastrophe. Many people, not just Leander, may have died.  He may have been one among many, but then the story would lose its focus and theme. Distilling it down to a pair of star-crossed lovers makes it more powerful and captivating. It could also help remind people when it is safe to cross the Hellespont (not in winter!). It could be warning tale for foolish young lover or seamen who want to cross. 

The little details that remain from the story are so enticing and interesting, one always wants to dig deeper and know more. While many have said that the word Hero today comes from the Ancient Greek word ἥρως, meaning "protector" or "warrior" and has nothing to do with Hero from the myth, I posit that it seems Hero was a guardian of the lighthouse or a temple dedicated to an eternal flame and was doing just what her named implied, protecting sailors from harm at sea.

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Enlightenment: Women need not apply

"Just add a bra. He'd be a girl"

We all have heard of enlightenment. In most cultures, it is the highest achievement of the soul ... I mean a male soul. Of course, that is a ridiculous statement. Souls don't have gender, but like everything else the most talked about stories of reaching enlightenment or being enlightened belong to men. We have all heard of Buddha and Christ. We have heard of Siddhartha or Gautama Buddha leaving his wife and child and going on a path to liberate every other person . . . I mean guy. His precepts are primarily directed to men, and we are more likely to have heard of Buddhist monks than nuns. I am quite sure many women have reached enlightenment. Why their stories are not as popular, I have no idea. Why the face of temptation is a woman's for Christ (Mary Magdalene), Siddhartha (Mara) and others, I am not sure. Perhaps women are seen by men as the last attachment. Oddly the attachment is not at the heart but at the groin. These women always offer sexual temptation. Perhaps that speaks to the relationship these enlightened men have had with the women in their lives. It is one of lust and not love. This is not a very enlightened perspective.

It seems that on the way to rejecting all bodily desire, men run away, seeking isolation. They don't bring their wives or lovers.  They have what I like to call singular or single-sex enlightenment. Which is odd because many belief systems speak of duality, mostly letting the guys have all the good stuff and the girls get all the yucky, sticky, slow and bad attributes. That does not really seem enlightened, yet that is how the story goes. Alone, men seek the high ground and return to give the good news to men that the way to a good life is rejecting women and the world. These men do not see women as beings seeking enlightenment too. They see women as a bump in the road to enlightenment, an afterthought.

This leads me to question whether enlightenment is all that enlightened. I mean, sure, one should reach for the good and pure, but when it causes you to ignore more than half of the population in your quest, I start to wonder how good your enlightenment ears were listening. I cannot believe these men got the whole message. I think they heard what they wanted to hear or at the very least what was passed down to us is a skewed and incomplete message. As we know, truth does not do well on this plane of existence. It can hardly survive. So, I think the message is incomplete at best.

I have read many stories about enlightenment... I mean men's journeys to enlightenment from Augustine to The Alchemist.  According to Joseph Campbell, and other men, woman are temptresses in the Hero Cycle. Once again, woman is being viewed by the male penis eye and not as a human being with needs. Woman in men's psyches becomes the embodiment of the physical world which he must leave to ascend. How sick and sexist is that?

The Hero doesn't turn to the woman and say," I'm sick of this shit. How about you?" then takes her hand as they go off to seek spiritual peace together.

No. In literature women like to grovel in despair and evil, and we never learn. Women seem to always say, "No. Life is hell, but I like it this way. You go and get that thing called 'In light in mint' I'll stay here suffering. Go. Have fun."

So, the man goes and leaves the woman  and sometimes a child and reaches what I like to call "Callous enlightenment." This may be why these guys keep coming back or promising to return. I think they have something to learn about the true nature of everyone's soul. It is the same. Gender does not matter. All souls share the same desire for freedom. Yes, I know, no one can help another on the path of enlightenment. Sure. That's why men have so many helpers just waiting to aid and support him. He has signs and magical occurrences to keep him on the right path, but he can't give a sister a hint or hand up?  And when a man does get to that glowy stage, he returns at the journey's end to give sage advice to other men never a woman. We have to raise a hand or jump up and down to get his notice. Unfortunately our breasts bob up and down, and he gets tempted and walks away.

In a lot of literature, women seem to be the road upon which men seeking spirituality must tread. How come I never read a story where the woman says, "You know, I've been waiting and trying to figure a way out of this terrible life myself. You know this enlightenment crap sounds good. I think I'd like to try it. It's got to be better than what I have now. I'll just leave my kids and husband and find it." Oh yeah, I know why: because then everyone(man and woman) would hate her and say she was a despicable person who abandoned her responsibilities. Well, you've got to break a few rules to reach enlightenment. This is, of course, socially easier for guys than girls.

And even if a woman did try and go off with a man to find enlightenment, he would turn to her and say, "Sorry sister, this is a one man show, plus I am horny for you and enlightenment states you must give up the body, and I don't want to when I look at you."

Then she says, "That's okay I was faking it all the time. I'm ready for enlightenment."

"But I want sex and you remind me of it."

"I thought enlightenment meant you transcended all that. So, transcend."

"I can't with you looking like that," he says and goes away.

"Then you are not ready, Grasshopper," the woman yells,  then she goes into forest, listens to birds and trees and river, hears OM and transcends. Alone without writing a whole book about it, pounding her chest and saying how great she is and making people worship her.

There is, though, another side of the coin, one on which women are stamped as so good even our farts are enlightened.  In a few religions, it has been posited that women can stay home and stare at walls because we are perfect.  The Alchemist  also slings this type of hooey.  Basically,  just strap us in a chair as infants and then open the closet door twenty years later, and we will be perfectly normal and fully formed, no experience necessary.  We will be wise and helpful to a man in trouble and will hurl advice at him from the tent door as he goes on to have fun and find out what life is about while we sit at home waiting for him to come back and be a better man or forget to come back and be a better man.

So, women are either nasty god-forsaken sex tempters or angelic wise women? Nope, we are just like every other person, flawed, wise, stupid, silly, brave, cowardly, and enlightened.  You want to know what a woman is? Go look in the mirror and because then you'll see a person and that is what a woman is. We need to go out, fall down, get scars, pick ourselves up, change our minds, and most importantly we need to have our own heroic experiences, so we can grow just like anybody else!

We will all  know when men and the world have finally truly become enlightened when there are just as many popular stories about women reaching enlightenment or even couples transcending together. It may shock many people but couples who are truly in love, love beyond the physical body and have a love that is transcendent and beyond life, death or the changes of the material world. That is real enlightenment.


Candice Raquel Lee
Author of  The Innocent: A Love Story  

and Effed Up: An Abnormal Romance

How believing in "Happy Endings" saved my life

Recently, an imaginary friend of mine asked me, "Why would anyone write a book with a happy ending? It's so cliche, unrealistic, and boring." So, I slapped her across the face. As she held her cheek, and her eyes welled with tears, but before she could burst out with the cliched cry of "What the hell did you do that for?"  I said, "Didn't you wish we had ended this conversation with a sappy 'happy ending' instead of a slappy, realistic one?"

All joking and exempla aside, I like to write happy endings. I do. Not because I don't know how much life sucks, but because I know intimately how much it can.  There have been times in my life where I have fallen to the floor crying just wishing god, any god, would cut to the chase and kill me instead of sadistically toying with me. I have nearly blacked out from hearing news that was so bad. I grew up in one of the worst projects in America. People died in the elevators and were raped in the stairwells.

I have been terrified and crushed under the weight of life. I have lain down pretending I was beaten, so, hopefully Life would get tired of kicking me and go on to someone else. But oddly, She never did. She just kept hauling back her foot until I got up and punched her in the face and said, " I am sick of this. I am not going to ever quit, and you are never going to stop testing my resolve never to quit. So, bring it!"

"Wow!" says my friend, still holding her swelling cheek. "Why don't you write about that? Why don't you write gritty stories about your tear-stained life? That's what I would love to read." Yes, well, that would be great if writing about that crap did not take me back into the abyss of the past. It has taken all my strength to crawl away, and I don't relish the idea of skipping back down the bloody and broken-glass-filled path of memory lane.  Besides, I believe in energy. If you seek the light the light will come. If you chase the darkness that too will come. I prefer to put the darkness behind me as much as possible.

With that said, I will tell you, that without the hope of a happy ending, without the dream that something can conquer hate, selfishness, madness, pain--something like Love--I would not have survived my childhood or most of my adult life. It was that belief that helped me get up when I was down, helped me find the light when I was surrounded by darkness. Believing in happy endings is not sappy or trivial or unrealistic. It is the battle-cry of the unvanquished, the song of the unconquered heart,  the light that will not fade. It is the belief that the true self, the bright soul will overcome all obstacles in time.

So, when my imaginary friend says her glass is half-empty and that life sucks,  I will agree with her some of the time. Then I will remind her, gently at first, and then with the zen-slap she deserves, that life glows, shouts, sings, and makes you fall to your knees in awe sometimes too. And maybe she will say, she hasn't gotten her happy ending and that is why she does not believe in them. I'll remind her that the phrase "happily ever after" like everything else in fairy tales is an exaggeration (there are no handsome princes inside frogs or big furry monsters). There really is no such thing as just one final happy ending. There are many happy moments and many sad ones because life is a cycle that goes on and on,  So, when the bad times come, I hold on because I know the good ones will return too like spring and flowers after winter. So, yes, bring me those happy endings, tell me that good conquers evil, that the pure of heart no matter what darkness she faces will overcome because I know she will again and again. I am living proof. I bet you are too.
,




Candice Raquel Lee
Author of  The Innocent: A Love Story  

and Effed Up: An Abnormal Romance

Paranormal Romance's Deep Roots

Why are so many women and girls flocking to the paranormal romance genre? What is so hot about blood-sucking vampires anyway? They're dead and cold. They drink blood. And who wants a  half-wild, bestial werewolf humping on her leg? Are people nuts? Nope. Is this some crazy modern-day thing? No. Not at all. So, why are women dying to get their hands and thighs around angels, devils,  shapeshifters, and elves?  Because these are not new imaginings but very old ones.

Yggdrasil

The roots of the paranormal romance go back in time to mythic images of half-men-half-beasts painted on cave walls of our preliterate ancestors.  The vampire is reminiscent of the age-old stories of women and men going down to land of the dead and returning masters of both worlds. Psyche did it to become a goddess, and the Babylonian goddess Inanna took a trip down-under to see her sister, the goddess of death. Persephone and Hades have an epic tale. Ghosts come to the living and speak only after drinking blood in The Odyssey: "I led the sheep to the pit and cut their throats, so the dark blood flowed. Then the ghosts of the dead swarmed out of Erebus" (Book XI 1-50). There is also that little statement from the bible that blood is life and is forbidden to mere mortals: "as for the life of all flesh, its blood is identified with its life. Therefore I said to the sons of Israel, 'You are not to eat the blood" (Leviticus 17:14). Angels, also in the bible, came down and laid with as many women as they liked:"The sons of God saw the beautiful women and they took any they wanted" (Genesis 6:2) Satyrs and centaurs were always ready for a romp in the woods in Greek myth. Wolfmen inhabit European fairy tales and Native American myth. Incubi exist in stories from Africa.    

Okay, you say, so the paranormal is just dressed up myth, but why the romance?

Well, in women’s myth there is love (union with the sacred), loss, sorrow (or going down to death), and return.  In ancient rituals of the feminine,  union or sex with a god or wild man (think of Enkidu and Shamhat from The Epic of Gilgamesh) was an important part of ritual. Psychologically, it speaks of the union of the feminine and masculine aspects of the self, or of acceptance of the other, or the union of the estranged wild parts of the person. This act is freeing, it liberates the dark self, the powerful self, the beyond human self, the soul.

Shivashakti

Therefore the craving for the paranormal is an expression of those ancient desires many women were killed to suppress. Pagans were killed by Ancient Hebrews. German Druids were hunted by Romans, and their sacred forests were burned. Europeans and Americans had their witch hunts. This yearning is an old one and speaks to a desire for freedom from the ordinary. It cries out for the adventurous and the mythic. It speaks to the oldest parts of us, to the deepest roots of when we began to raise our heads and ponder our not quite animal, not quite godlike state as bipedal and creative humans.

 Now, surrounded by so much technology, so much work, so much stress and suffering, it is no wonder that we turn again to myth in this new form. 

 Candice Raquel Lee

Author of “The Innocent: A Love Story”

Jane Eyre, Beauty and the Beast, Cupid and Psyche and Little-Burnt Face: The myth of the monstrous man.

Jane Eyre is quite an innocent when her tiny slipper crosses Mr. Rochester's threshold.  She has lived through much, having survived Lowood and Mr. Brocklehurst, but she is still quite new to the world. Jane has a tolerably hopeful opinion of it when she sets out to become a governess and even when she is nearly run down by a large dog and a horse. 

Jane has been surrounded by good women and good girls to a good degree. She knows about cruelty from her aunt and the man her aunt entrusted her to, but for the most part the scales are tipped toward the good in humanity in her eyes.

She is totally unprepared for the depth of deception Mr. Rochester is capable of. Mr. Brocklehurst was cruel, a children’s school despot. Brocklehurt's evils were direct and without subtlety. He did not try to hide his nature. He was too stupid to know how. Still, one may wonder why Jane would trust another man in a superior position so soon or at all? 

We know that superiority did not move Jane. She had not learned to fear it or even be a little suspicious of it, making her an innocent. Mr. Rochester is a "gentleman" in wealth and appearance. He is a gentleman who knows how to keep secrets like an illegitimate daughter, a wife and a mistress. He is of higher rank than Jane but of lower morals (since his were not trained.)

Still, Jane does not distrust Mr. Rochester even when she is warned by Mrs. Fairfax. She knows something is wrong in the house but innocently leaves Mr. Rochester blameless because he does not look the part of a villain like Grace Poole. Appearances are deceptive in this story. Nothing is as it seems, yet Jane trusts Edward. She never wonders why a man of his station would want to marry her. Her naive view of the world as a place of equality of spirit blinds her to her possible danger.

Rochester is the “lover” in the story, but he is far from a romantic ideal. In fact, he is a bit of a monster. He is cruel, calculating and manipulative, yet Jane loves him. How can that be? Aren't lovers always good? Not necessarily. As romance readers today will attest, ”everyone loves a bad boy.” 

This is not a new concept. We have "bad boys" even in ancient myth. One of the first is Cupid. In the myth of Cupid and Psyche, Cupid kidnaps Psyche and takes her to a castle where unseen hands serve her and an unseen lover services her. Psyche is informed, by  her sisters,  that her husband is a monster,  specifically a giant snake. Very phallic indeed and very familiar.

Cupid may have been one of the first monstrous lovers, but he is not the last. The fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast has many similar elements: a beastly lover, a hidden castle where the Beauty is served by invisible servants, and a prince who must be seen as other than a monster.

Sound familiar? Let's look again at Jane Eyre. Jane goes to a beautiful mysterious mansion. She is a servant, but her not-so-handsome lord and master is not what he seems. A loving eye is necessary to see Rochester truly for what he is. Only the right way of looking at this "monster" will allow Jane to recognize his pain and his misery.Seeing is essential when dealing with monstrous lovers and men.

There is a similar example in Native American Culture. It is one of my childhood favorites. It is called, “Little Burnt-Face.” Like Jane, Little Burnt-Face does not have a great childhood, as her name suggests. She is burned and beaten constantly by her sisters. One day, a Great Chief's sister comes to the village looking for a wife for her brother. She asks only, "what does he look like?"  to all the girls in the village. Some girls say, "I don't know." Others say, "he is handsome," or "he has a nice fur tunic," or " he has nice moccasins." The sister sends them away.They have not seen him.  Finally, only Little Burnt-Face is left. She drags herself into the tent. The sister is kind to her. She is asked the same question. What does he look like? Little burnt-face says that he has a rainbow as  his bow,  the stars are his eyes ,and the earth are  his shoulders. She has seen him! She is healed and marries him.

In all these stories, the art of seeing is the key (suffering of the heroine is also important because it gives her the ability to empathize with the monster's pain and recognize the inner beauty that others cannot see.)  Jane must see past rank, deception, and lies to the truth of a terrible marriage and the heartache of a desperate man. Rochester’s pain is on the inside unlike the Beast, perhaps suggested by his ugliness. When he passes through the fire, a fire that redeems him, frees, and brands him, his wounds are laid out in the open for the world to see. He is even more unacceptable to others, but Jane still sees the good man that loves her within. Seeing is an art especially when it comes to the heart. To see beyond the hideous pain of another to the real need for love and companionship that is at the heart of the monster, of the beast, of the Great Chief, of Mr. Rochester is one skill a heroine must have in order to get her happy ending.

Candice Raquel Lee

Author of The Innocent (A Paranormal retelling of Jane Eyre)    

  

Reviews and the Myth of Trying to Please Everyone.

I recently put my book in the YA category just to see how those readers would receive it. A friend of mine told me my book was YA. I was not sure about that, but now I am more convinced by the confused and mixed reviews that it may not belong there. I read each review I received like I thought an author should, so I could improve my writing. Unfortunately, the reviews were all over the place. Some said my book was a light, easy read; others were confused. Some understood the profound nature, some didn't know what I was talking about it.  Some wanted more of this. Others wanted more of that. Others wanted less of this. Other wanted less of something else.  Most loved it the way it was.

This triggered in me a memory of one of the earliest tales I read when I was a girl. I read it in Hebrew for school. It was called "In order to find acceptance in the eyes of everyone."   I like the English title better, it is simply named, "In order to please everyone.”

A father and son and a donkey start off on a journey together. They are heading out to market. It is a beautiful day. The father and son walked side by side next to their mule. On the road, they pass some travelers. The group of men start laughing at them.

“Look at those fools walking next to perfectly good mule when one of them could be riding! What dolts!”

So, the father looks at the son and kindly picks him up and puts him on the back of the mule. They go along happily for a few more miles until they meet another group of older people on the road. The older people stare at them and shake their heads.

“What a pity!” one says. “Such a shame to see how disrespectful young people are these days. A fine healthy boy riding a donkey while his old father has to creep along. How disgusting!”

Well, the young boy loves his father. He does not want to be disrespectful. So, he jumps down and immediately make his father ride. They go a few more miles like this enjoying the day talking about what they wish to buy at market when they run into another group of people. These people frown at them as they go by.

One person says in a not too quiet voice, “Look at that big fat man riding the donkey while his little, skinny child has to walk in the dust and dirt. The child will perish and the fat man will go on not caring.”

Well, the father loves his son. He loves him to pieces. So, he pulls him up in front of him. (He does not get down himself because that would give others cause to say something bad about his son again). Now both are riding.  Ahh! Now things are good. Everyone is riding and comfy. The father and son are both happy. Proudly, they ride by the next group, heads up.

“Look at those oafs riding that poor mule to death!” a person in the group cries as she passes. “They are being so cruel to that animal! They are both healthy! Why should they torture that scrawny beast to death with their tonnage!”

So, now the father and son both get down  and scratch their heads. Well, they can’t walk beside or ride on the beast. How will they get to market?  So, the little son makes the final suggestion that will please everyone. They pick up the mule and carry her kicking and braying on their backs to the market. When they get there they are all terribly uncomfortable and sad.

So, what does this mean for me as an author? I enjoy the praise, then read the criticism with a grain of salt. I try and see if any of it is valid, and if  there is something I can do about it without changing everything and without destroying the integrity of the story I wrote. Usually, except where grammar is concerned, the answer is no, so I continue writing something else. (Also, I read the great reviews a few times to inspire me to go on, if I need it. I also read a valid bad one to keep me on my toes.  Then I forget them and keep on writing.)

Reviews are great when they are great, but they are opinions and everyone’s is different. It would be nice if we could make the whole world smile, be happy, and whole, but the truth is we cannot. We are lucky if a few people truly understand us and connect with us in this life, and it is for them that I write. So, thanks for the great reviews! 

The Only Creation Myth With a Male God, I’m Going to Believe in….

Maitani - Creation of Eve, from the facade of the Orvieto Cathedral

When God finished creating Eve, he looked down at his work and smiled.

“Damn. I am really doing some fine creating today. Look at those lumps and bumps. The curve is the best shape I ever made, and I've used it to maximum effect today.  I am a genius. That is some sweet sugar right there.”

God glanced at Adam and frowned. “He’s all lines and angles. Not my best work. A bit primitive.”  God thought a bit. “Well, Why should I give her to him? He’s just a pale stinking shadow of me.” God flicked Adam into the cosmos and woke Eve. He said, “Come to the arms of your creator.  I gave you life, now let me show you how to live.”

As Adam hurtled through the stars, a Goddess caught him in her baseball glove. She saw that he was good and decided to keep him and make much use of him.

Amen.

From the "Gospel of Gender Equality."

Narcissus the Robin

"You lookin' at my woman?"

With the coming of Spring (finally) we now have a pesky American robin in our yard, whom we call "Narcissus"(and occasionally "dumbass"), who constantly attacks our windows, or, rather, his reflection in these windows. For those unfamiliar with the myth, Narcissus was a youth who fell in love with his own reflection in a pool of water to the degree that he stared at himself until he dropped dead. In this case, the obsession is the same, but it's self-hatred that fuels the interest. He views himself as such an attractive rival for himself that he must put an end to things out of jealousy. 

Caravaggio's "Narcissus"

I did notice though that when another bird, a flicker, came near, he did not attack it but ran away. Also, since there are about five-hundred robins around the neighborhood that he is completely oblivious to, I do not believe he is spoiling for a fight. So, we have theorized that this bird has decided to take on the one adversary he knows he can defeat--himself--and is definitely not an alpha male. 

All day long, we hear Narcissus flapping against the glass, pecking and clawing with his feet. Pulling down the blinds doesn't deter him, and I don't want to put shiny metallic streamers or black plastic netting all over the outside of the glass, as has been suggested online, since I am terrified of seeing dumber-than-a-rock him hanging upside down or tangled up like an early Christmas ornament in it.

I have therefore settled on a two-prong approach of occasionally showing myself in the window and making wild gestures along with ignoring the ruckus. I've accepted his behavior as something even a human male might do and am therefore more tolerant. Man and bird do not differ that much. Man keeps away other males from his mate by placing a shiny ring on her finger, which, like the metallic tape I could hang in the window, is supposed to frighten other males away. Unfortunately for robins, they do not have enough lining in their nests to purchase a diamond encrusted bird band for their seasonal beloved, so they must go birdo-a-birdo instead, which can also happen among homo sapiens. 

P.S. We have also noted that Narcissus is alone. Perhaps it is just too early to find a mate or it is the fact that he spends so much time attacking our windows, he has none to meet a girl or make a decent nest. Yes, we found the nest. It is in the crotch of a birch tree. It, unfortunately, looks like crap, like the kind of nest a man who attacks his reflection all day would build. Well, Darwin is proven right again.

The Myth of Why I Write

    (Icarus when he fell into the sea; woodcut by Jorg Breu)

I am a great lover of myth. Not myth as in lies or fairy stories but real myths that speak of human truths, of what is important for us to pass on to each other, of what ancient cultures felt was important to keep sacred generation to generation.  I will give an example of the use of myth. One could say to a child, “Listen to your elders,” only to watch him roll his eyes and walk away. Or one could tell the story of Icarus and how he flew too close to the sun. The hearer may not even understand consciously what the story is about, but the story will stick like a hook in his mind and sometime later, maybe many years later, he may say, "Oh. Now I know what that meant.  Now I know the importance of that story.”

I come from a storytelling family. It seems many of my elders loved to talk about our ancestors. Maybe it is because we are part Native American that oral storytelling is in our blood. Maybe I like myths so much because to make a six-year-old sit down and listen to family history, my great-grandmother had to make it exciting. Now that I am older, I think of myths as the sugar that helps the medicine go down. When you are giving the cold hard facts of life (…One day you and I will die. There are bad people in the world. Bad things happen sometimes even when we have been very good. Mom and Dad are not perfect.  Do not be afraid…) to the young, the unfledged, the innocent, it is always best to couch it, to coat it in something palatable. The storyteller definitely doesn’t want to scare the bejesus out of her audience. So, as an act of kindness, the burning coal of truth is hidden.

Or perhaps it is a test to see if one day the listener will take the truth from its pretty wrappings. I see this gentle exchange as an act of hope on the part of the storyteller, hope that the listener will sometime soon be strong enough to pull back the filmy gossamer layers, and even though she or he sees something hard, something scary past the pink cotton of words that she will forge ahead anyway because she is not the same child who first heard the story. She will have hard hands and a tough mind and even when she gets to the last of the wrapping and something odd and squishy appears, something  a little ugly or dirty, she will still pull away that last scrap and find the pearl, the gem, the beating human heart, the truth that she was given.   This is why I write; this is why I wrap terrible truths in pretty flowery words and why I love myth.  

Myth lovers, what do you see as the uses of mythology?