Styles of Imagination and Mythic Methods: Zeus and titanism today

“Let Zeus, born in the open, awake to all under the sky, ever-watchful, ever-noticing, be exemplar for responding to all that the senses present with a richly elaborating imagination. Only well-shaped images fed by the senses can contain and differentiate our innate titanism.”
–James Hillman

In this episode we consider today’s battle with the titanic, the excess and pressure of the “unlimited” in Western culture, and the numbness and stress that it engenders in us. How can we participate effectively in the cultural dynamics and find a measure of health and happiness for ourselves?

“The mind that generalizes continually prevents itself from those experiences which would allow it to see and feel deeply.” — W.B. Yeats

Transcript of Styles of Imagination and Mythic Methods: Zeus and titanism today

Hello, and welcome to Myth Matters, storytelling and conversation about mythology and why myth matters to your life 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 last podcast I said that real change begins with a change in perspective. I want to begin today by elaborating on this statement to connect the dots between a change in perspective and the role that our myths can play in such a shift.

In the common view, mythology belongs to ancient times, to times long past. They are a type of relic that may be quite interesting but holds little relevance today. This assumes that the world they describe and the context in which they have meaning is gone. This also assumes that we can move beyond the images and meanings in a myth, that we can even live without mythology and myth-making.

But these assumptions spring from a literal reading of mythology. They overlook the lasting symbolic power of myth, and the depth of the metaphors they contain. They also assume that the world and human existence, our needs and nature and character, have changed much more then they have. There is a tendency to confuse the emergence of new technologies with the evolution of our bodies and consciousness, and to imagine that new concepts and ideologies do not have roots in the past, roots that reach into what we now call “ancient myths.” But we build our new ideas on these old foundations and the metaphoric “truths” in mythology endure.

A good example is Joseph Campbell’s work with the hero’s journey. Campbell took a collection of the old myths, he examined the symbols and metaphors, and he revealed a pattern that he called “the hero’s journey,” that describes, to this day, a recognizable life path to maturity, inner authority, self-realization, and community service. This pattern is so compelling, and contains so much truth, that it has been used, directly and indirectly, in an uncountable number of ways in contemporary life, ever since Campbell surfaced the notion.

Hero with lion, Dur-Sharrukin, in the Louvre

Some of the details in an ancient myth might not make sense anymore or their specific, historical meaning may be lost to us. You as a listener or reader of a myth, might encounter an entire myth or an entire mythology that simply doesn’t resonate with you personally. And yet, there is power in the image of the “hero. In addition to the stories, there is a core, something in the center that constellates the power.

As a result, people who don’t know any of the specifics of Campbell’s work and the different stages or steps that he outlines in the hero’s journey, intuit much of the meaning. When I say the word “hero,” a wealth of associations, information and feelings, springs up for you. Most of this is cultural, some of it is personal, the result of your idiosyncratic way of interpreting things.

The metaphor called “hero” constellates a specific web of associations, meanings images, and stories that is both clear and nuanced. And although you and I may disagree about the specific characteristics of a hero and heroic action in a particular instance, these personal refinements don’t get in the way of our understanding each other. Reading mythology as metaphor can bring us together in a shared sense of our humanity without forcing us into showboxes of conformity. This was one of Campbell’s central messages.

Okay, so myths continue to describe important life experiences today. What does this have to do with the change in perspective that is necessary, as I say, to real change? First of all, to realize that you are living in a mythic pattern is a very powerful thing. Back to the example of the hero’s journey, when you are moving through the more difficult or unsettling stages of this process, awareness of the rest of the story, of the pattern, can be very helpful. The context offers guidance and support. It also offers you a deeper meaning. Your challenges are not random suffering and they aren’t strictly, only, wholly, personal. You are following in the footsteps of many people who have lived before and you are joined by others who are making the journey today. You have a different perspective on the process and you have company.

Secondly, awareness of the story that you are in, of the mythic or archetypal backdrop, creates options. When you reflect on the myth, you learn about the nature of the story and the players. You see more of what’s typically involved and you can more consciously engage with the situation. In the last couple of podcasts, I’ve told you about the Greek trickster Hermes and how he ended up talking to Zeus, the upholder of order for gods and men, on Mt. Olympus. Hermes was there because he wrangled his way in by committing a theft and then lying about it. He was brought before the judge, so to speak. But Zeus didn’t punish Hermes. There was a negotiation that left all parties satisfied and Hermes was even admitted to the Olympic pantheon.

Zeus understood that he was dealing with a trickster and he saw the creative possibilities in this energy. He made a shift and something new came into the world— Hermes’ many inventions, like the lyre, and fire— and the mercurial energy of the trickster itself. Zeus made Hermes his messenger and thus gained access to the underworld, something that Zeus didn’t have before. Now there was a new flow of information, a unity between the realms. So, when you recognize that you are dealing with trickster energy, you can also make this move. You can loosen your grip on how you think things should be and look for fresh opportunities, which is how the trickster operates. You may set aside your blind resistance and ask “what can I make out of this experience? What are the new possibilities in this circumstance and how can I use them to my best advantage?

Finally, simply knowing that there is a myth at work in every situation is essential to understand life and circumstances. I’ve been talking so far about the value in locating yourself in a particular myth or archetypal background, and yet there is also value in making a move into the mythic dimension, alongside the facts of the day, the news and information. To know that the situation must be mythic, even if you’re not sure which myth to point at. The forces that our ancestors once called gods are still at work in the world. The arc of a life from birth to death is intact. Imagination is a primary aspect of human consciousness. Storytelling and myth-making are still our human way of entering, understanding, and shaping our world.

Navajo weaving Sandpainting of Hero Twins by Gilbert Gilmore

When you enter the mythic dimension, you remind yourself of all of these fundamental aspects of our lives. And the stories that we tell of this time— old, new, retooled— will provide the truth and meaning of this time, and determine our actions. What do you see and hear when you look at events, the news, popular culture, your own inner dialogues and behavior, with the mythic dimension in mind? When you consider that there is ” a myth in the mess,” as James Hillman used to say.

In practice, identifying THE myth at play is rarely possible because myths are multivalent and they’re interconnected. They are part of a rich web of associations and offer a variety of viewpoints. So, you may start in one place with a myth and end up someplace completely unexpected. the absence of a singular, absolute, “right” answer or correct interpretation allows for tremendous artistic and intellectual creativity. Reflecting with the aid of a myth opens up many possible meanings.

If you listen to Myth Matters regularly, you know that when I tell a story, I don’t tell you what it means in any absolute sense. Rather, I share my reflections on it. I invite you to notice what you notice and find your own way into the story. A myth is not an allegory or illustration of one defined lesson. Myths are the cornerstones of our webs of signification, our patterns of associated symbols and meaning. This is one source of their longevity. We may disturb the web, change meanings, bring forward different truths, but we don’t escape it. We elaborate upon it, reweave it. This is a theme in the recent podcast about Hermes and the magic of meaning, so you may want to listen to that one if this topic interests you.

Now, this is a rather long exegesis I know, and you may be feeling like you already know all of this or you wouldn’t be listening to a podcast called “Myth Matters!” But I want you to hold these ideas in mind—the guidance offered by a particular myth and the power of the central image or archetype, and the existence of a mythic backdrop or pattern in all human activity—as we return now to the topic of the last podcast, Zeus and his brand of authority, and the fact that he overthrew his father Cronus and the rest of the Titans to gain his rulership over gods and men. Zeus and the titanic are still fighting today, my friend.

In the last podcast I told you some of the myths about Zeus, the Greek god who upheld the order of the world for gods and humans. Zeus of the thunderbolt and the eagle, the youngest son of the god Cronus and his sister/wife, the goddess Rhea. Zeus and his Olympian siblings overthrew Cronus, the leader of the early race of gods called the Titans, after a 10 year war called the Titanomachia. In that podcast, we explored some of the myths of Zeus, about his birth and this war, to reflect on his character and function as the ruler on Mount Olympus. How did he get there and hold onto power, and what type of world order was created?

Zeus has wisdom (his name means “far-seeing”). He has charisma and many powers and yet he won the honor of ruling heaven and earth by drawing lots with his brothers, Hades and Poseidon. His grandmother Gaia, the earth, was an important, essential, support and advisor. And we learned that Zeus maintained his power through alliances and negotiation with the earlier Titans, other creatures, and his siblings. Finally, there were real limits to what he could do, as even Zeus couldn’t overturn the decisions of the Fates. This was a new type of order, one that was different from the version maintained by the Titans and Cronus.

Cronus, leader of the Titans, was more inclined to destroy or imprison his enemies, real and imagined. He ruled over a rougher bunch of brothers in a world that still carried the rawness of fresh creation. Cronus also gained power by overthrowing his father, Ouranos or the Heavens, and it was Ouranos who gave the Titans their name. “Titan” means “over-reaching,” “stretched,’ “to strive or hasten,” an apt description perhaps, of the act of castration that Cronus undertook and his father’s view of his son’s ambition. Cronus cut off father Heaven’s testicles and threw them into the sea.

Let’s take a closer look at the Titans and the Olympians as intrinsically different and also irrevocably related forces in the world. As two different modes of being that are alive today and in conversation, because the archetypal pattern they personify still exists. The possibility that we are living through a version of the ancient battle of the gods, the Titanomachia, first presented itself to me in 2008. In 2016, I came across an essay by James Hillman titled “…And Huge Is Ugly: Zeus and the Titans,” in which Hillman wonders the same thing. His essay is from 1989, and the dynamics that he describes have intensified. I think that the. figures and myths. from ancient Greece have a lot to offer us right now.

A note before I launch further into this— I recorded several podcasts on titanism and Hillman’s essay (in which I find so much wealth), in the summer of 2016. These old episodes could be useful to you to round out this discussion. This podcast was called Myth in the Mojave in 2016, so look for the programs recorded in July and August 2016. Or to skip the searching, head over to the mythicmojo.com website where I’ll have links to those earlier episodes posted.

First then, what is “titanism”? It’s the impulse to over-reach, to escape or deny limits. Hillman writes about the reign of quantity and enormity as a valued quality, as in “bigger is better.” Titanism describes the methods that we’ve adopted to do things on a beyond human (and humane) scale, in the never-ending quest to produce more, faster, and the greed for ever-increasing profits that fuels these developments. Excess is part of the titanic. Modern technology has been important in the ramping up of the titanic, as tools are designed to help us avoid our limitations or to deny the limiting factors of environment, time, and space. The Titan Prometheus, who defied Zeus to give men the gift of fire, is part of the mythological backdrop of our technologies. The term “promethean” describes our loftiest, perhaps misguided, ambitions.

So, titanism is an important, active force in the world today, at least in Western civilization. As human beings, we are not Titans, and yet we have titanic propensities. The problem with the titanic run amok, which is what we live with today in my view, is that unbridled excess is not compatible with civic order, nor is it healthy for the body, mind, and soul. One manifestation is stress. Being stressed out because you try to do too much, or are expected to do too much, to take too much in, process or hold it. Hillman writes, “Stress is a titanic symptom. It refers to the limits of the body and soul attempting to contain limitlessness.”

Another symptom is a loss of sensitivity, in our bodily senses and feelings. We lose the ability to appreciate nuance, to see the details, to slow down, to stop and small, actually smell, the roses. And the overwhelm of titanism numbs us. We become sleepwalkers or robots, unempathetic, dull, and we turn inward in response. We try to escape the too-muchness of what’s going on out there by focusing on “me.” Me, myself, and I seem more manageable. and accessible.

Now, following the myths, Hillman and others define the Titans and titanism as the over-reaching, the unbounded, excessive, the limitless. Unbounded because they are unimaged. Unimaged. What does this mean? That they are not differentiated, not fully realized as individual, particular, personages in our imagination. They are abstractions and concepts. The Olympians are specific characters, with symbols and poetic epithets, favored colors and clothing and companions, places of residence, realms of power and influence. They exist in a rich tapestry of stories.

The Titans are largely conceptual, connected to realities like Night, for example, that are quite real and yet evade the limits of our imagination to fully grasp. Just for fun, let me read you the list of names of the Titans and their sisters, and see how many bring a cultural image to mind. How many of them are familiar to you? Coeus, Crius, Hyperion, Iapetus, Oceanus, Cronus, Theia, Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne, Phoebe, and Tethys. Not much, right?

These gods belong to a time before the human world of civilization and culture and laws had coalesced, and there are few stories about them. Of Crius, I couldn’t find anything in the ancient texts. The others are known primarily for their offspring. Iapetus was the father of Atlas, Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Menoetius, for example. Hyperion was the father of the Sun Helios, Moon Selene, and the Dawn Eos.

The Titans occasionally appear in stories about the Olympians and their heroes. They didn’t disappear. Their role as source of world foundations and as antagonists to the Olympians continues but it is through the Olympians, as imagined personages, that the Western cultural and civic imagination evolved. These are the ones with whom the ancient Greeks had their conversation. The ones upon which, they reflected.

The Olympians have the stories and it is through story that you gain your character, history, existence. The stories that coalesce about you over the course of your life are your fame, from the Roman fama, and include your reputation and obligations, that is, what limits you. They’re the basis of public opinion and how you are known. It occurs to me that attempting to live among others story-less, or to evade the consequences of your fama, is another form of titanism, an attempt at the unbounded.

You see that the Titans and the Olympians belong together archetypally, as they express a polarity: emptiness on one. end, in which anything can expand and expand beyond recognition, and the densely populated in which every particular being, every “thing,” has its niche. The emptiness is the unimaged; the emptiness of the unimaged, and this is titanic. The densely populated, varied, differentiated is Olympic, Zeusian.

These are two possible conditions in our world, conditions that arise from our style of imagining and so, living. A certain balance or harmony may be preserved as long as both are active in our cultural imagination. James Hillman suggests that Zeus was the rescuer of his siblings and the world through his wide imagination, which me reminds me once again of the myth of Hermes and the creative reception that he received from Zeus, who recognized the creative opportunities there. Zeus negotiates power as part of a pantheon of personages. Into this family of varied forms and styles of consciousness he admits new gods, and fathers an array of other unique possibilities and combinations among gods and mortals. This is his “wide imagination.”

Giulio Romano, The Olympian Gods, Palazzo del Te in Mantua

Today, we have an excess of excess. Titanism, and titanism, and more titanism. The giant and the huge, concepts, problems, circumstances, abstractions beyond our ability grasp and hold. This happens Hillman writes, when the gods (that’s gods with a little “g”) are absent. So, if you concerned, as I am, about the rampant titanism that fuels the destruction of our humanity and the world, there is a prescription. Fill up the titanic emptiness by attending to and living with, the gods. Adopt a Zeusian imagination. Follow the possibilities that are in the myth itself.

What might this entail? Let’s begin with clarifying a life with the gods, little “g”– this is essential; there are many, not one— and the act of keeping them alive, to populate what would otherwise be a titanic emptiness of our world and imagination.

The gods are presences in an animate universe. When you stop viewing the world as a machine, as dumb matter, or as an. unremarkable backdrop to your personal, all-consuming dramas, the gods, the vital consciousness and mystery of a world of Others reveals itself. Notice them! Give the world and the Others your attention. You don’t have to believe in anything or anyone to wake up to the non-human Others around you and be present. Drop the solipsism that feeds the titanic and look outward.

When you do this, the personality, the unique and idiosyncractic aspect of each Other can be perceived. You live in a world in which every “thing” is an individual. This is a message from the Greek goddess Aphrodite by the way, who came into being (isn’t this beautiful). when Cronus threw Heaven’s testicles into the sea. She rose from the seafoam, the embodiment of the imagination this newly created world would require to be fully realized in all of its complex beauty and specificity.

So, you stop to smell the roses. You recognize the roses. You allow yourself to marvel and to wonder and to delight, and then you learn to appreciate this one rose as unique among the others. Her color, and size, and posture, and scent. Her personality. This is awakening the gods, small “g.” And this is the anima mundi, the soul of the world.

As the world comes alive, you come alive.

As the specific, particular individuals come to be known, the landscape of your imagination fills up.

The gods are alive.

If you live this way, you know what I mean. I hope the context that I’m offering supports you in valuing and cultivating your practice. If this sounds new, try it and find out for yourself. I talk about this more in the 2016 Myth in the Mojave episodes that I mentioned earlier.

You also enter the Zeusian imagination and keep the gods alive in your manner of thinking and speaking. Abstractions and sweeping generalizations feed the titanic. In an attempt to be all-encompassing, we use words and ideas that lose meaning and feeling. I love this bit from Yeats who writes, “The mind that generalizes continually prevents itself from those experiences which would allow it to see and feel deeply.” Can you discipline yourself to evoke the details, nuance, and complexity in this area of your life too?

The common impulse in the face of the titanic, is to curb excess, to limit expansion, and try to repress it. But if and when this works, it results as Hillman observes, in totalitarianism. Another form of titanism. We see this our histories and the clues to this outcome are in the myth itself. Which is why we need. to. turn to the myth, to the mythic backdrop, and the pairing of Zeus with Cronus, to find our solution, so to speak.

We’re always imagining, always in a fantasy that reflects some archetypal field or style, so the question isn’t how to separate imagination from reality but rather, how to see the perspective or style of your imagining, to learn something, be informed by it, and recognize it as an activity. Otherwise, you run the risk of identifying with it, being captured by it, becoming it. This is the turn to that mythic dimension that I talked about earlier.

So my friend, how can you cultivate the wide imagination of Zeus to reduce the titanic impulse in our world today?

I want to give a big welcome to new subscribers Amir, Samantha, Mark, Candice, James, and Valerie. Thank you for subscribing for email announcements about the podcast and my other programs. If you’re new to Myth Matters, I invite you to head over to the Mythic Mojo website, where you will find information about Myths Matters, a variety of ways to subscribe to this podcast, and also information about the other work that I do with people to use stories to gain insight into life.

And drumroll please…a shoutout of gratitude to new patron Kayleigh Frater! Thank you so much Kayleigh, for your support of Myth Matters via Patreon, Kayleigh. If you are finding something of value here in Myths Matters and can afford $5 or $10/month to sustain this podcast, I hope that you’ll join me on Patreon too.

If the recurring contribution feels like too much, you can also grace me with a single donation in the tip jar on the mythic mojo website. A big thank you to Dean for his generous tip last week. Much appreciated Dean.

In closing, here are a few words from Hillman at the end of his rich, oh-so-rich, essay: “Let Zeus, born in the open, awake to all under the sky, ever-watchful, ever-noticing, be exemplar for responding to all that the senses present with a richly elaborating imagination. Only well-shaped images fed by the senses can contain and differentiate our innate titanism.”

In the words of the brilliant and compassionate E.F. Schumacher, small is beautiful, my friend.

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, happy mythmaking and keep the mystery in your life alive.