Andromeda and Medusa
Andromeda, as I understand the myth, was a victim of her parents’ sins (most particularly hubris), and was chained to a rock — helpless, without any power over her fate — to be devoured by a sea monster (the sea represents the unconscious, the monster our repressed anger and fear). Fortune smiles and the brave hero arrives to save her, defeating the monster with his mojo (or the mojo of the dead Medusa’s head) and marrying her. Marriage here, I assume, meaning an integration of the masculine and feminine, anima and animus. All ends well, as the parents’ kingdom is saved from the
wrath of the goddess, and Andromeda goes off with her hero husband.
I am coming to a new understanding of this story. It is a Goddess myth. The men are basically ineffectual. The king is unable to protect his kingdom or his daughter from the Goddess’s wrath. The hero is a pawn of the Fates and a conveyor of the true power of the Gorgon, still fully powerful even in death.
As in dreams all of the characters are parts of the dreamer. The female archetypes play out a psychic drama. Hera, the angry Goddess; Cassiopeia, the evil Mother; Andromeda, the dutiful sacrifice; the monster, seething anger, revenge; Medusa’s head, pure power, able to turn the monster into stone.
Perhaps Andromeda in her extremis, or perhaps a compassionate Fate, calls forth her hero, her inner strength, her self-respect, that piece of her Self that knows it has reason to survive. The hero carries the Gorgon’s head, a pure and unambiguous power beyond the judgment of good or evil; it is a power of pure lifeforce that can turn the flailing rage into impotent stone. Now, with such an ally, the princess can be freed, integrate with her shadow which carries the traits which will allow her to become a whole person in her own right. She is freed from her mother’s curse to make her own way, complete with the wisdom she has learned from her trials. Andromeda becomes the star, indeed the constellation, of her own myth, immortal in the heavens.
Andromeda Unbound
Primal emergent scene of fear/betrayal/rage
Against prosaic life tuned to a simpler age
A woman and a man and progeny of course
A life tailored to plan, no stranger to remorse
So early in the days of what might hence occur
The learning of the ways of how to be are stirred
So legends have been cast, so myths in mist abound
As some realities are buried underground.
It was a cold and gilded house, camouflaged as home
It was a brutal game of chance camouflaged as life
Chain me to my jagged rock and let me bleed
Let the ravage start, I will not plead,
My tears will only flow when primed by raging seas
They say that life’s a school, we must learn or die
They knock into us what, where, when, forgetting why
Each put into our place and left to wait our turn
It’s not about what we may be, but what we earn.
Tree-lined sidewalks, car-lined streets, children at play
It seems so calm and peaceful, keeping fear at bay
Do the laundry, buy the groceries, pay the heating bills
Get it done, don’t delay, no matter who it kills.
It was a curse hurled from the gods, but it wasn’t mine
Punishment for a crime of pride I did not commit
Clinging to my prison door, I hide my eyes
Expecting no pardon from the skies
No where left to go to hide from my mind’s lies
What can’t be told infects a deep and deadly path
Buried wounds untended surface into storms of wrath
A beaten creature huddles beneath a snarling face
Dying for a welcome smile, the warmth of caring grace
Some doors left open lead to mystic hidden rooms
Of purple velvet drapes, plush carpets and rare perfumes
The tapestry of life upon an ancient wall
Or was it down a rabbit-hole you meant to fall?
I begged a chance to be saved, but it was not my time
The monster’s howl a hungry hound denying rest
Lost in a tempest, finding none to care
Petrified by my own inward icy stare
Bound and cursed by the gods, of what use is prayer?
Comes the time in spiraling life of do or die
Take the time to breathe the air, read visions from the sky
Willing change, allowing pain to tell its sorry tale
Rearrange the picture’s frame, learn to adjust the scale
The rules laid down to keep us bound were never friends
A hero’s quest with divine intent can open stories’ ends
Gods inspire nature’s desire for beauty, healing, choice
Reclaiming heart, we do our part, obeying our true voice
Opening my eyes, raising my voice, I claim my power
The gods respond not with violence but with joy
Claiming my life as my own, I turn my demons into stone
Free at last my spirit soars as I
dance by day through sweet Olympian fields — by night among the stars
