I am fairly certain that you are familiar with the commonly coined legend of Narcissus...
Young hunter who by 16 years of age had conquered the hearts and minds of every young man and woman (yes both genders :-), i guess we were eons away from the invention of homophobia ) but who haughtily spurned them all...he who one day knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty and was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned.
But this is not the entire story as I see it...
When Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears.
'Why do you weep?' the goddesses asked.
'I weep for Narcissus," the lake replied.
'Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus,' they said, 'for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.'
'But... was Narcissus beautiful?' the lake asked.
'Who better than you to know that?' the goddesses asked in wonder. 'After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!'
The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:
'I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.'
'Why do you weep?' the goddesses asked.
'I weep for Narcissus," the lake replied.
'Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus,' they said, 'for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.'
'But... was Narcissus beautiful?' the lake asked.
'Who better than you to know that?' the goddesses asked in wonder. 'After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!'
The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:
'I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.'
What a subtle torture it would be to destroy all the mirrors in the world I ask you?
Where then could we look for reassurance of our identities?
Narcissus was so egotist...he was merely another of us who, in our unshatterable isolation, recognized, upon gazing on his reflection, this beautiful comrade, the only inseparable love...poor Narcissus, possibly the only human who was ever honest on this point...don't you think?
No comments:
Post a Comment