So, I’m a little obsessed with ancient Greek myths at the moment. I don’t know what about it excites me so much. I remember thinking how boring the Illiad was in high school, maybe it just takes some perspective to really understand it. I think I’m there, right now. The point of perspective. And I’m tired.
I am so tired of the psychotic predictability of women. I’m tired of bearing the brunt of female volatility. Its bizarre the way we love to tear each other down, to play the game or whatever it is we’re doing. Even with good intentions, you can’t escape the ugliness. So right now I’m really digging Medusa. She’s not unlike my favorite Hindu diety, Kali. They are very similar actually. They are represented with the same powerful mien. Flashing angry eyes, mouth wide open, sometimes with the tonge lolling all the way out.
I have a lot of sympathy for Medusa actually. She’s a monster that was created and distorted, and I think very misunderstood. I know she’s not a real person. I’m just embracing the ideas here. Medusa was a young, beautiful maid whose crowning feature was her beautiful flowing blond hair. As she worshiped in the temple of Athena, she was raped by Poseidon, the God of the sea. Athena was so offended that her temple was defiled, that she turned Medusa’s beautiful hair into a mass of serpents and distorted her face so that the sight of it would turn anyone to stone.
I don’t know if we are supposed to feel sympathy for Medusa or not, but I see Athena’s punishment of her as an ancient reflection of the way women work. As a woman, its much easier to take down a woman than a man. We know where we’re vulnerable. We know how to subtly get in for the kill. We know what is important to each other. And we can’t stand to see (another woman) have something, learn something or accomplish something that we haven’t. That is a pretty jaded thing to say and think. But I think it holds true for the most part. There will always be a few golden treasures, true friends. And I am privileged to have a few of those. But I am so tired of the way women usually tear each other down. Its subtle, and always with “the best of intentions”.
I see the tragedy of Medusa, that she was horribly disfigured, and that that disfigurement continued to be a weapon after she was killed as indication of the potency of women’s powers for ill.
The repercussions of this are further reaching than we can imagine.
