“He is now struck with wonder by what’s wonderful in him…”
—-Ovid’s Myth of Narcissus, translated by Allen Mandelbaum
In the most popular version of the myth of Narcissus, a beautiful young man rejects many adoring suitors and falls in love with his own reflection in a still pool of water.
This myth inspired the psychologists Havelock and Freud to name a pathological love of self, “narcissism.”
Narcissism can be a very serious problem, and many psychologists say this disorder is prevalent in our times. But does this concept accurately reflect the myth or contain all that it has to offer us today?
The Greek myth of Narcissus, like the still pond in the story, can offer us a place to reflect on the mysteries of self, other, love, beauty, and more.
Transcript of Mysteries of Self, Other, and the Greek myth of Narcissus
Hello, and welcome to Myth Matters, storytelling and conversation about mythology and what myth can offer us today. I’m your host and personal mythologist Dr. Catherine Svehla. Wherever you may be in this wide, beautiful, crazy world of ours, you are part of this story circle.
In the last episode, I told you a story called “The Six Companions, ” and we talked about one of the big mysteries of life, the self. The mystery of who we are, what we are, and the identities that we construct. And how do we come to find answers or know anything about this? It’s a process for the time bound ego, and like the hunter in that story “The Six Companions,” you encounter aspects of yourself, capacities, over time. In a very real way, your self unfolds. It reveals itself to you, which is strange. But if that wasn’t the case, we wouldn’t have so many of the stories that we have, nor would we have psychology.
Now I want to think some more about the mystery of the self, as it presents itself to the waking ego. And one of the first stories that comes to mind, is the Greek myth of Narcissus. This myth has been connected to a personality disorder called “narcissism.” I am going to say a few things about narcissism. But I wonder if the myth itself offers us more. The origins of the story predate this modern psychological concept by 1000s of years. I wonder if there might be something useful in this myth, for those of us who are not afflicted with a pathologically insecure and fragile ego, but who are nonetheless engaged with this mystery of self and identity.
There are many variations of this story. The most popular one comes from the Roman poet Ovid. His version of the story of Narcissus is found in Book Three of The Metamorphoses, which was written in 8 AD.
I invite you to relax and listen to the story. Let it take you where you need to go and notice what attracts your attention. It might be something that you like about the story, it might be something that you don’t like. One of the interesting powers of story is that it can operate as a kind of Rorschach test. And if you allow what you notice to be significant, and reflect on it, it might take you someplace interesting.
So here is the Greek myth of Narcissus, also known as the myth of Narcissus, and Echo.
Our story begins on Mt Helicon, the home, long ago, to a bevy of lovely nymphs, nymphs of the trees and glens, the creeks and streams. Among them was a pretty little thing called Echo who had the great misfortune of incurring the wrath of the goddess Hera.
Hera, wife of the great god Zeus. Zeus had a fondness for the nymphs on Mt. Helicon and often whiled away a pleasant afternoon with one of them. His frequent absences made Hera suspicious, and she started prowling around the mountain, intent on catching her husband in some infidelity. But Echo intercepted the goddess every time. She knew, as did everyone within a thousand miles of Mt Olympus, about Hera’s jealousy. Since her great husband was immune to her anger, the goddess developed the habit of punishing his partners instead.
Echo didn’t want such a fate to befall any of her sister nymphs. When she saw Hera on the mountain paths she stopped the goddess and engaged her in conversation. “Isn’t the weather lovely today,” she would say, and then she would follow this with compliments and gossip. And anyway, Echo was a very talkative nymph, and she had no trouble keeping up the chatter and occupying Hera, until Zeus had time to slip away.
Now, Hera was not a dummy. After this happened a few times, she figured out what was going on. The next time she encountered Echo on the mountain path, she stopped the nymph before she had uttered one word. “I know what you’re up to,” Hera said. “You’re assisting my philandering spouse. Since you love the sound of your own voice so much, I will take it away. You will no longer be able to say one word of your own.” And since Hera was the great goddess Hera, as soon as she said, it was done. Now, the poor nymph Echo was reduced to an echo. She could only repeat the words of others.
Not far from here, the river god, Cephisus swept the nymph Lioripe off her feet, and after roll, a wave, a swell, and a tumble or two, Lioripe found herself pregnant. The boy that she gave birth to was uncommonly beautiful. As an infant, he could already break your heart. Lioripe went to consult Tiresias the blind prophet, about her son’s fate. “Will my son live long and be happy with his perfect beauty?” she asked. “Yes,” said the prophet, “as long as he never comes to know himself
These cryptic words were soon forgotten.
These cryptic words were soon forgotten, and Narcissus the beautiful baby, grew up to be an absolutely enchanting child, and then a gorgeous young man. Many nymphs and young women threw themselves at his feet, but he didn’t return their affections. And many young men loved Narcissus too, and he rebuffed them just as completely. Narcissus didn’t have eyes for anyone. No one could win his heart.
One day, Narcissus was out on the mountain alone, hunting deer by driving them into his nets, and Echo saw him. She was immediately deeply in love, and she almost burst with a longing to call out to him, and to make herself known to him. But she was an echo, and she had to wait for him to utter the words that she longed to speak. Echo stayed in the shadow of the trees and followed Narcissus, watching and listening. The young man started to have the feeling that he was not alone.
He stopped and looked around. “Is anyone nearby?” he said. “Nearby, nearby….” echoed Echo. Narcissus was puzzled. He didn’t see anyone around. “Why do you flee from me?” he said. “Flee from me, flee from me…” echoed Echo. “Let’s meet!” said Narcissus. “Let’s meet… echoed Echo and she joyfully stepped out from the trees, ran toward narcissus and she was just about to throw her arms around his beautiful neck when he recoiled and said, “Do not touch me!” “Touch me, touch me…” Echo pleaded. “I’d sooner die than say I’m yours!” Narcissus said with disgust. “I’m yours, I’m yours…” said Echo. But Narcissus picked up his nets, turned his back on the nymph and ran away without a backward glance.
Humiliated and heart broken, Echo stayed alone in the shadow of the trees. She moved to the dark caves, tormented, suffering, and Echo began to waste away. Soon she was only bones and a voice. Then her bones turned to stones, and only her voice remained.
Echo was not the only one to develop a fatal attraction for the cold-hearted Narcissus. A handsome young man named Ameinius was madly in love with him and followed him everywhere, trying to catch his eye or gather some token of affection. Exasperated by the man’s constant attention, Narcissus finally said, “Look Ameinius, I do not love you and I never will. So, let’s exchange gifts and go our separate ways.” He gave Ameinius the gift of a sharp sword and sent him on his way.
Desolate, Ameinius wandered the woods. At last, he stopped and lifted up his arms in prayer to the goddess Nemesis, the one who upholds the universal laws and curbs all excess. “Goddess Nemesis,” Ameinius prayed, “May Narcissus fall in love too, but only once, and may he suffer as I have.” Then Armenius went to the house of Narcissus and, standing there on the doorstep, plunged the sharp sword into his own heart.
The goddess Nemesis heard this prayer and decided that something should be done about Narcissus.
So, on another day, not long after, Narcissus was once again out hunting, this time with friends. The day was hot, he became separated from his group and decided to find a cool place to rest. The goddess Nemesis lured him to a peaceful glen, and there in the middle was a perfect, pure pool of water.
Drawn by thirst and the beauty of the pool, Narcissus went to the edge and threw himself down in the cool grass. The pool was smooth as glass. Not a ripple disturbed the surface. It had never been befouled by man or beast. It was shaded by trees and yet not a single leaf floated on the water.
Narcissus lowered his face to take a drink and oh, who is this? He suddenly beheld the most beautiful face he had ever seen. A simply dazzling young man looked back at him and returned his smile. He caught his breath and sat back on his heels. The mysterious young man also seemed startled and drew back too. The look on his face, of baffled delight mirrored Narcissus’s own feelings.
Narcissus leaned close and the young man came closer. He moved to the surface poised for a kiss but at the last moment the young man disappeared! Narcissus waited and there he was again, as beautiful as ever. “Don’t tease me,” cried Narcissus. He plunged his arms into the water to pull the beautiful young man close but alas, again he slipped away. Narcissus tried again and again and each time the young man, who seemed so willing to receive his affections, slipped away.
Narcissus stayed by the pool. He could not tear himself away. Puzzled and distressed he lifted his arms up to the trees and asked them, “Was there ever a love as cruel as mine is to me? He wants my love as I want his so, why can’t I reach him?”
His gaze returned to the beautiful young man in the pool. “Why do you dodge away at the last moment?” he asked. “It cannot be my ugliness that repels you. All the nymphs are crazy about me. Your face is full of love as your eyes look into my eyes. You nod when I nod, smile when I smile, even seems to speak and to weep when I do.”
Tormented and suffering, Narcissus began to waste away. Day after day, he stayed by the pool, and the heat of his longing melted him like a candle. Alas, Narcissus died. When his family and friends come for the body they found a flower, white and golden yellow, blooming in its place. The narcissus.
So ended the end of the mortal life of this beautiful boy. But some say it was not the end of this fatal fascination. Some say that Narcissus continued to stare at his reflection in the dark waters of the River Styx in the underworld.
So, let’s begin with the obvious topic. Narcissism. Havelock was the first psychologist to use the term “narcissist” back in 1898. He was talking about a form of auto-eroticism. A client or a patient who took himself as his own sexual object. And about 15 years later, in 1914, Sigmund Freud developed a theory about how narcissism developed. According to Freud, and I think this is true, narcissism is part of human nature. As infants and small children, we are first of all, not aware of ourselves and then as we become aware of our selves, we are self-absorbed. As you grow up, that self-absorption should shift into a normal ability to see others as well as yourself and to bond with other people.
Havelock and Freud’s psychoanalytical narcissism then, both include an immature, exclusively self-gratifying sexuality that isn’t necessarily part of the clinical definition today. Today, we talk more about deep insecurity and fragility of the ego, which leads to a need for constant affirmation from others.
Although narcissism presents itself as grandiosity and boasting and manipulation, and can be really quite aggressive, the underlying condition is a tremendous insecurity. You can look at Donald Trump here in the United States. He’s a textbook case of pathological narcissism. Narcissists at that level, they live in a fantasy world. They can’t accept facts. They are liars, they do whatever they have to do to convince themselves that they are the most exceptional person in the world.
It’s interesting that Havelock talked about a national narcissism. He said the symptoms of this were a hatred of foreigners, an aggressive patriotism, and narratives of national triumph and exceptionalism. If this is interesting to you, you might want to take a look at a book by Christopher Lasch called The Culture of Narcissism, American Life in An Age of Diminishing Expectations. This book was published back in 1979, and it’s still so relevant. Lasch talks about the tension between the American ideal and the story that you can be anything that you want to be, and that you’ve got to be the best and the best and the best, and then the lived reality, which is very different for most of us.
Now back to the story. The story that we know best, and the one that operates as my primary source, is Ovid’s story. And Ovid was interested in love. He was interested in love and how we’re tortured by love. So, he tells a story about this beautiful youth whose love of self prevents the love of others, a story in which Narcissus is punished for not loving others or for not accepting their love. But I wonder, was Narcissus wrong to reject these suitors? Is it possible that the pond says something applicable to all of us, about surface beauty and seeing yourself in the eyes of another?
If we accept the premise that the myth is about love of self versus love of others, let’s take a look at the variations. I wove one of those into my telling the bit about Ameinius, the young man who kills himself. But you know, first he prays that Narcissus is going to suffer. That Narcissus is going to suffer some terrible end, which is an interesting profession of “love” isn’t it? In a version of the story from 50 BCE, so an earlier version, Parthenius, Virgil’s tutor, tells a version in which spurned suitor (male) asks the gods to punish Narcissus and they do. He kills himself and is found in pool of blood. That’s the only pool in that version of the story. And then there is another version in which Narcissus falls in love with his twin sister, and has an incestuous relationship with her. To all of these outcomes, yikes. Right? I might run away too.
Now, the presence of Echo is interesting. You may have noticed the parallel between Echo and Narcissus. Narcissus is fascinated by a reflection and an “echo” is a sound repeated by reflection.You might say that Echo is also trapped in a self-image. In her case, it’s her love for the sound of her own voice and storytelling that leads her to be trapped. To be trapped in a repetitive loop that leads to her death. And this notion of the echoing also shows up I think, as a component in our modern discussion of narcissism. When we think about people who equate the other with themselves, who live through the other.
Narcissus invests all of his libido, to borrow a term from Freud, in himself, and Echo invests all of her libido in Narcissus. And they both die. She’s empty, and he’s tortured, also empty. Both of them are models of a person who is dependent on an external ideal for validation.
The central image in this myth is the image of Narcissus looking into that still pond. That unnaturally clear and still pond. This is the image that has most frequently been captured by our artists over the centuries. I wonder, what does he see? Does he see his beauty? And if his fascination with it is trivial, why isn’t the love of the others who were attracted by his beauty superficial?
Perhaps there’s a series of mysteries entered here, mysteries of the self that come with a host of questions, questions about the relationship between self and other, about the relationship between your appearance and yourself, between surface and depth. If the surface of something attracts, what might lie behind it? And how are these things– self, other, appearance, surface, depth– valued? And by whom? What is the nature of the real versus illusion? Is illusion actually real? And what about the seductive power of the unattainable?
There are also questions about substance and permanence. I think it’s interesting that this fascination lasts beyond the death of the body, which suggests that the story may be about soul.
I don’t have a final conclusion to offer you here. I do wonder about the emphasis over time, on other people versus the self, and the tricky terrain of self-love, and self-care. I wonder about the relative absence of stillness and reflection in most of our contemporary cultures, and how these might contribute to narcissism as we define it today.
Is it possible that this story is more about self-awareness and the difficulty involved in that, than it is about love?
In looking into that still pond, Narcissus sees what others see. But does he see himself?Does he recognize himself? Archetypal psychologist James Hillman, in his thoughts about the story, made the interesting comment that the whole concept of narcissism in psychology has been based on a misreading of the story. That in fact, Narcissus didn’t know that it was his reflection. He was merely attracted to someone unattainable, and inexplicably beautiful.
I hope that you will spend some time with your moment in the story. It is worthy of reflection. What is the story about for you? And where can it lead you? Is this a story about rejection of love, and fatal self-absorption? Is it about misperception, the power of illusion, or something quite different for you?
In the end, Narcissus dies. He’s transformed into a flower, which is a metaphor for a short and lovely life, a thing of beauty that cannot last. It’s tragic. And yet, we all die. And set against the backdrop of history, and the eons and eons of existence, all of our lives are fleeting.
I have a poem for you before we part ways, but first, I want to give a big welcome to new email subscribers Rose, Emmett, Lou, Luciana, J Morgan, Gene, Christopher, Declan, Gary. Welcome!
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If we have a better understanding of our need for myth, and all that our old stories offer, we can live more satisfying lives. We can inhabit a better story and create a more beautiful, just and sustainable world.
And now, a poem titled “Narcissus” by Gary Miranda (from Orpheus and Company: Contemporary Poems in Greek Mythology).
“I have always known this: my being
was an excessive gloss on my own
attempt to communicate, a wheel
on which a dream of wheels spun.
Arbitrators came, mute companions,
watery gods. Their silence bred
alternatives I could not condone.
The moon rose like a handmirror, black
as its input–not a moon at all,
now that I reflect. The space it
didn’t take became my name for it–
“night”– a reversible coat the day
believed in and put on. Later,
in the swerving sentence of my longest
thought, my body drifted down-
stream, face up, factual as song.
And as the poem—even the word—
is a fracturing of one will into two
so that the two may contemplate each
other with benign hostility, like two
magnets with their backs turned,
existing only in their mutual exclu-
siveness holding each other at a distance
again and again, so did I become
what I gazed upon and loved–that is,
myself, flowering into the world. ‘
And that’s it for me, Catherine Svehla and Myth Matters. Thank you so much for listening. Take good care of yourself, and until next time, keep the mystery in your life alive.
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If we have a better understanding of our need for myth and all that our old stories offer, we can live more satisfying lives. We can live a better story and create a more beautiful, just, and sustainable world. Together.
