Category: unity consciousness

The rote idea often expressed is that Narcissus, a man, fell in love with himself. The pop psychology idea is that a narcissistic person is a person who is self-centered, ‘in love’ with oneself.

But, those are pale and often hackneyed wisps of the actual meaning of the word and the myth. Sometimes stories are murdered over time, by our accepting more and more vapid versions of what were once far deeper and far more mysterious, often anguishing and redemptive pathways that teach the way through. Once the ancient stories have been stripped of their numen, so are we also stripped of a certain way of seeing and knowing that is important to the life of the soul on Earth.

One of the oldest stories of Narcissus I heard long ago, was from old Greek babushka women living in my childhood neighborhood of post-WWII immigrants and refugees from many war torn nations. Unlike the vapid modern stories we sometimes hear in which Narcissus is a conceited man… The old women said that Narcissus was a beautiful young boy-man, a warrior who began with a heart of kindness, a spirit like an eagle, and a gentle and healing touch. He was caught in wars wherein enemies were made. He came to the river to wash the pain and blood of battle from his soul.

Eros, the God of Love (you see a debased form of Eros in our times, in the images of little chubby cherubs on greeting cards during Valentine’s Day.) whom I understand as both scruffy and homeless often, for mere humans would not always open their doors to the God of Love… Eros wished to give Narcissus a mate who would be the opposite of adversarial, one who would be helpful and faithful to him… and Eros had in mind a certain young female who had led her life in exactly that way, not flitting from one thing or person to another, but rather remaining near and loyal. 

So, as Narcissus was washing his tired and wounded body in the river, and the young nymph was near the river also, gazing at Narcissus with kind regard… Eros quickly dispatched two of his arrows faster than the speed of light… to strike both the young woman and the young man at the same time… for that was Eros’ only requirement from Olympus… that in order to cause people to fall into deepest related love with one another… at the moment the arrows pierced their hearts, the two souls had to be looking at one another. In that way, the troth would be fit. 

But in the midst of the two arrows flying through the air in a blur no human eye could track, suddenly young Narcissus bowed his head to pull up one more scoop of water in his hands to wash his face just more time … and thus when struck by Eros’ arrow, Narcissus had just glanced into the water of the river where his own war-worn face was reflected. 

This caused the young woman gazing at Narcissus to fall so deeply in love with him. But caused Narcissus to not recognize his reflection of himself in the water as being the same as he himself. 

And thus, as the old women told the story to me, Narcissus is not in love with himself… he is in love with one who can never find, who is watery –and wounded– and who rushes away and is invisible when sky is overcast, and which shatters each time he sees this image and reaches through the water for it. He cannot bring it close nor into wholeness again. 

And this is the torment of Narcissus who does not realize there are not two separate selves, but rather only one self reflected both in the inner world and in the outer world. The anguish is augmented by being unable to gather the selves into one.

Understand too, this story which comes through my own autobiography and the autobiographies of the old women, is one that came at a time when most all who were the old womens’ ages had lost their daughters and sons, husbands and parents to a bloody decade of murderous war. The story of Narcissus was not a fantasy, not a legend. For us who lived with what remained of human souls who had managed to survive war, yet who often were stunned into a form of not believing any longer in many treasured things… the story of Narcissus was a living story, not a dead dry old tale.

Too, the ancient story, which is a tragedy, tells then of the young woman who now so deeply in love with Narcissus will not leave his side, and remains and remains with him, nearly sick with love for him… and as Narcissus, with Eros’s arrow through his heart keeps saying to the watery image, I love you, I love you… so does the young woman repeat what Narcissus is saying. She says to him, I love you, I love you. 

The old women were silent then. I was much older before I understood they were remembering something… I think times of their lives when loving and being loyal to someone, perhaps more than one someone, walking with a clear arrow of love through the heart… but that great love did not come to fruition, was not reciprocal, was not returned. Most souls hardly would need to be past age ten to have experienced such already. 

Thus, the rest of the ancient story, was as poignant. It was that the young woman began to disappear, day by day there was less and less of her to be seen, until one day, it was said, all that was left of her, was her beautiful loving voice, telling her heart to Narcissus, I love you, I love you… as he himself said same to the watery image. 

Thus, the young woman who once was flesh and blood and now only a voice, was named Echo, in this case reflecting over and over in her own watery way, the intention of love… but without it being able to bring that love down to earth. Thus, repeating over and over, the best of whatever she heard of love in all her surrounds. 

I should mention to you too, that in curanderismo, the ancient healing ways found throughout the Americas, the Caribbean and across the world… the narcissus plant, grows from a bulb, its food source carried underground in the dark, and it is related also to the daffodil and the amaryllus. 

The actual word narcissus, comes from the Greek ‘narkissos,’ which does not mean self-centered… it means ‘numbness’ … for the narcissus has in certain infusions a narcotic effect. 

In this way, more properly, in the sense of “narcissism’ despite Freud’s and Rank’s and Jung’s and H. Ellis’ and other 19th century shrinks’ points of view, it may be that rather than self-centeredness being the point of psychological narcissism, it is being numb to true self and to others’ pain, that is the larger issue… an odd and consistent disinterest, a discounting of the predicaments, peace, and sufferings of vulnerable others. Numbness may in fact be the far more poignant insight. 

This comes with love and with peace, as we contemplate the strange ways of the world and our human conditions, and that there often is imbedded in stories from ancient times, if not pathways through, then critical insights into that will help us through, nonetheless.