Blue Fox Shaman

Why do we tell stories? Everyone knows the answer–it’s what makes us human. We’d like to take that one step further and say that we are stories. For each of us, our “identity”, the notion of “who we are”, is a story we are telling ourself. Or our Self, but that’s another story.

Stories are important, and the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves not only define us, but also can limit or enable us. The purpose of our self-made stories is, after all, to enable us to survive; it is an evolutionary advantage given to highly social animals like ourselves. The power of a story is that it is a predictive tool, enabling us to run complex simulations to anticipate the results of our actions, and interactions, with others and with the world around us. We are the person who is able to do this, who would never do that, and who can, or cannot, get by with a little help from our friends.

That’s not an earth-shattering revelation. You’ve probably heard it before. Taking it to heart and modifying our own stories to better enable ourselves to survive and thrive is not unheard-of either. But it is helpful to hone this skill, and one way of doing that is to practice analyzing stories, to try to get behind what a story is actually saying about human nature and the way things work in our culture and in the world. But let’s look at whether the story is “true”, not from the standpoint of historical facts, but according to how things are, really. So, let’s take a little trip to Story Land.

Consider the ancient story of Jason (of Jason and the Argonauts) and Medea. Now, right off the bat, let’s establish some things. Yes, this is a myth; probably nothing ever happened in the real world that even remotely resembles the actions described in this story or the characters involved. Our culture is, generally, okay with that. We have, and enjoy, our comic books and fantastic tales. When we come to analyze such a story, however, we head in one of two directions: either we wonder about what might have formed the historical basis for the myth, or we try to get into the mind of the original story-teller to find out what they really meant to tell us. The assumption, in both cases, is that there’s some hidden moral that we’re meant to uncover. But what if the real reason this story got told in the first place was because it was satisfying, as a story?

What does it take for a story to be satisfying? Well, it has to have characters that are believable, and at least one character that we identify with, to some degree, and an ending that, whether happy or sad, is also believable. In sum, it can’t go too far out of our notion of the way things work, or ought to work. Some of us can enjoy stories in which the world of material “things” is all topsy-turvy, with dragon’s teeth becoming armed warriors and such. But if the “people” (gods, heroes, villains, in whatever form) don’t behave as we expect, and more importantly, don’t get rewarded or punished accordingly, we call that story unsatisfying. Why? I’d suggest that it is because we use these stories, at least unconsciously, to confirm, or to adjust (slightly) our point of view. Right?! Yeah, I gave it away when I spoke of “believability”.

So what!? If you’re not doing it already, I’d like to teach you a slightly different way of analyzing a story. Let’s not look for a historical basis, or an embedded moral, or even a secret code from an Ancient Brotherhood. Rather, let’s try to get behind the worldview of the teller and their audience to discover how it might differ from our own, and in what ways it might be similar. After that, we can see if there’s something missing, from our own view, or the story-tellers view, so that we might want to make adjustments. If the story suggests that the results of certain actions are other than we expect, we want to get the real results of that experiment. Not only can we ask whether sorcery can make you a king, or whether you can make a concoction of herbs that can kill, but is it really possible to act like that towards others and not get punished for it?

But enough already. What’s the basic outline of today’s story? (Sorry, we haven’t left time for a leisurely trip.) Jason is the rightful heir to a kingdom, which was taken away from him by his Uncle. Jason grows up with his Mother, but he shows up, one day, to reclaim his inheritance and his Uncle agrees–if he brings back the Golden Fleece (forgetting to mention that it was an impossible quest). Jason is something of the young Fool who, because of his innocent goodness, or despite it, asks for and receives help from all the ancient mythological characters who would go on to become comic-book superheroes.

The journey to the land where the Golden Fleece is kept is long and arduous, filled with feats of derring-do that would make (and has made) any Hollywood producer drool. Once they get there, however, the king of that land has his own impossible demands before he will agree to hand the thing over. Apparently, at this point, tricks, courage and a good sword battle aren’t quite enough to carry the day. Up steps the Divine Feminine (Hera, in this case) to get the king’s daughter, Medea, to fall in love with Jason and help him out.

Jason now shows that he’s at least one brick shy of a load because (a) Medea demands that he marry her in exchange for her help and (b) she’s a Sorceress who is, if he would only stop to think about it, more powerful than the entire crew of the Argo combined. We contend that Jason is a fool (little “f”) not because he takes this bargain and uses her power for his own ends, but because he doesn’t understand what he himself brings to the table. Which is basically nothing…besides the willingness to take chances, and dumb luck in its most basic form. (In mythology, this latter feature is shown by the patronage of gods, by the way.) In any case, Jason takes the chance offered him and wins, big time.

Fast forward to Euripides play, where it all falls apart in the most spectacular fashion. Synopsis: Jason decides that it was all because of his hard work after all; that he deserves all that he got, and now he’s going to really reward himself with a trophy wife and with more, and better, connections. Why stop there? These days he would also buy himself a BMW convertible. Medea, of course, is having none of it. In Euripides version, she destroys everything and everyone around Jason, including the children she bore him, and makes her exit in a golden chariot.

This is why we’d really love to time travel; we’d love to go back and interview Euripides and his audience. Why was this a good story to tell? How was it received? Did it make anybody say “huh, what?!” or was it “that sounds about right”. Lacking a time machine, we’re left trying to make sense of it from other clues. But we’re willing to take a stab at it. As for the audience’s reaction, we’ll guess that most said “Yeah, life sucks, don’t it!” (The Ancient Greeks are often seen as pessimists, constantly spouting such chestnuts as “whom the gods love dies young” and similar shit.) The more reflective may have said “that’s what you get for marrying a woman like that.” (And we leave as an exercise for the reader to delineate why most, if not all, Ancient Greek monsters were female. As for Athena, those good ol’ boys could never figure her out and thought “she” was a sort of dominatrix-style drag-queen, really.)

In our more “enlightened” age, we might reflect on the fact that what many call the Divine Feminine, and we (Fox and I) often refer to as “Grandmother” (see the I Ching Hexagram 2. The Receptive-Earth::Earth), is indeed where our power comes from. We see it as a metaphor for all those things that willingly receive the imprint of our creative ideas, and for all those who do the actual work that makes our life possible. And our failure to value it, to work in partnership with it (rather than merely commanding it, or taking from it), and our blindness to our own dependence on it, is what is destroying us, our biosphere, and even our own much-celebrated civilization.

Yeah, well, anyway. You’re reading this instead of sitting in front of the tube watching Fox News, so we’re just preaching to the choir, again. <sigh!> But let us look in our bag of tales and maybe we can find something that will help you, our dear readers. That was a cautionary tale (aka Tragedy), if you’re wise enough to heed it. But how about one where things work out? Hmmm…

Have you heard the one about Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady? No?! It’s also called The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle. Doesn’t ring a bell? Well, the basic story is that King Arthur and his knights go hunting in the Haunted Forest, they separate, and Arthur alone finds and kills a deer. Out pops the devil (actually, an Other/Underworldly knight, but you get the gist) who claims the rights to this land and everything on it. Arthur must pay with his own life, but the knight offers a deal–return in one year’s time with the answer to his question, and Arthur’s head will remain squarely on his shoulders. The question, one that vexes men even today, is “what do women really want?”

When King Arthur gets back to his own castle, Sir Gawain offers to help his Uncle out. They immediately conduct a survey of all the women in their realm, but Arthur isn’t convinced they’ve found the real answer. (The results, he said, were “lies, damned lies, and statistics”.) They go back into the Haunted Forest, to see if they can find any clues. There, they meet an ugly hag who offers to give them the answer, if Sir Gawain will marry her.

What’s a fellow to do? God save the King, of course! Sir Gawain agrees and Dame Ragnelle, the ugly hag, that is, says that what a women really wants is sovereignty (over men in particular, our poet adds). Well! So Arthur gives the answer and spares his own life, and they all live happily ever after. No, really! Of course, you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop-how does Gawain get out of this fine mess?!

He doesn’t. Or, at least, not in the sense we might expect. And Gawain’s very wise choices in this matter both belie the validity of the answer given in the poem, and deftly illustrate what we think the real answer should be:

Hexagram 31. Reciprocity/Respect Lake::Mountain (and in our system, the Tarot card The Star)

Let me quote the translation of the Image of this Hexagram as given by Margaret Pearson in “The Original I Ching”: “Above the mountain, a lake: the image of reciprocity/respect. You should receive others with emptiness.”

Yeah. But we mean a little bit more by “respect” than you might get if all you had was the Arethra Franklin song (good as it is). The trouble with our language here, and hence with our concepts, is that they are based on a very lop-sided view of reality, namely that sovereignty, or authority, means absolute command over others, or over things. The ability to bend them to our will, or break them if they refuse to bend. So too, “respect” can’t help but pick up a whiff of “I acknowledge your right to have (at least some) authority”. What’s wrong with that? Nothing, of course, in the closed system that we sometimes term “the Patriarchy” it’s the way things work. Everybody and everything has a seat in the great big hierarchy, and the things you’ve got authority over you can bend to your will, break, or die trying. But it’s not how the world works, more generally. Nature is not “red in tooth and claw”. At least not entirely.

The forgotten side is the way of the Cultivator. Rather than bend nature to his will, he coaxes it, and cooperates with it. So he doesn’t command that figs should appear, he waters the plant and spreads a little manure. He doesn’t buy a concubine, he finds a girl with “great tracts of land” (ahem!), buys her a ring, and tells her she’s the best thing that ever happened to him. He doesn’t conquer an empire, he… okay, well, we haven’t gotten there yet. But the I Ching has:

Hexagram 32. Duration, Thunder::Wind (and in our system, the Tarot Card Six of Cups)

[Note that the I Ching is arranged in 32 pairs, with each of the Hexagrams in the pair being the mirror image of the other (with just four exceptions). And the meanings/implications of each Hexagram in the pair complement each other to a very great degree. This complementarity is of the same nature as the two main control types in a cybernetic system: positive and negative feedback loops. The exact meanings vary with the context, but that should give you a sense of the relationship that holds between them. You’re very welcome!]

The meanings we give to Hexagram 32 and the Tarot Six of Cups we derive primarily from the interaction of the two Trigrams, Thunder and Wind, which represent Oldest Son and Oldest Daughter, the Divine Couple, Bete et Belle, Beast and Beauty. Think about the truly successful romantic relationships in the stories you’ve heard. Contemplate the nature of those relationships, and add a pinch of duration (“persisting in doing good”, and, we would add, “consistently doing what is good for the other”) along with the image of innocent gift giving and childlike openness. Have you got it yet?

We think what everyone really wants is an ongoing relationship, with mutual respect for, and delight in, the special gifts that each brings to that relationship. Then the sum is greater than the parts, and the miracle occurs.

But we left Gawain on the threshold of the wedding chamber. What happened? Gawain decides to go all in, despite her ugliness, and to his amazement he finds a beautiful woman in his bed. Ragnelle explains that she was under a curse, part of which has been lifted because a goodly knight agreed to marry her. But, alas, one part of the curse remains-she can only be beautiful for half the day, and a hag for the other. Gawain has a dilemma. Does he want a beautiful wife he can show off to his friends and acquaintances (a trophy for sure) or beauty that only he can enjoy? Wisely, he lets Ragnelle decide. If he has learned one thing, it is that self-determination is best. It is, after all, her marriage too. And that’s the miracle-by letting her decide, the curse is lifted completely, and her true beauty shines forth continuously. Now I think you’ve got it!

Beauty is rooted in the pleasurable, just as a tree is rooted in the Earth. In both cases, we draw part of our nourishment from this source, but nourishment also comes from the Sky. Beauty must also reach for the sky…

[{in a cowboy accent} Reach for the sky, Beauty! Let that Ace of Hearts fall.”]

Guys! You ruined a very touching moment!

As I was saying, this is the problem we’ve identified as the choice between Ἀφροδίτη Οὐρανία, Heavenly Aphrodite, The Beloved, and Ἀφροδίτη Πάνδημος, The Common… sort, the Ad Man’s sort, I guess, who was a cleaned-up version of the original, the Sea-Foam born one, whose girdle the Immortal Gods themselves could not untie.

[“Desire, baby! Whooo! Aphrodite, the lover of genitals! Okay. Yeah, well, the Greeks weren’t so uptight about it.”]

She was originally the consort of Ares, the God of War, whom we identify with Thunder, Oldest Son, and shading between his Light and Shadow aspects. And that is her proper relationship as Oldest Daughter. But the Ancient Greeks changed her into a daughter of Zeus and married her off to Hephaistos, the Lame Smith. That didn’t work out well, for anybody. But you could sort of laugh at the dumb blonde now, and get a fair market price for her.

Aphrodite is at her best when she is the Eternal Virgin, Mother, and Wise Woman, the Ruler of all three realms, Heaven, Earth and Sea. This last is her especial realm because it is here that Life first arose on this planet. And though Earth is the bearer of Life, Aphrodite is the Wind that blows over the face of the waters, releasing that Life into being, dispersing it–

Hexagram 59. Dispersion, Wind::Water, The Sun (Tarot), ΦΑΡΜΑΚΟΝ (healing drug or poison, your choice).

So there’s Water, Middle Son, showing up again, but this time not to get his well-earned reward for an Executive’s job well-done (again, can you say “trophy wife” boys and girls?), but as tutor to Belle (Beauty) who will finally break the curse of Bete (Beast) by teaching him how to love selflessly, beauty for Beauty’s sake. And the capitalization there works both ways around.

Would you become a Healer? Of hearts, bodies or minds? Then you must also become the Seer, and learn how to concoct the healing potion. But, as Paracelsus remarked, “the dose makes the poison”, so we will bring today’s story to a close now. Just remember:

The oracle always lies.

The oracle always tells the truth.

The oracle always lies because the use of language itself implies that what is spoken is a metaphor, a story approximating the Truth, but never attaining it. The oracle always tells the truth because (and now you must trust us on this) it sees a broader perspective than our everyday awareness and attention can comprehend. But having received the message, it still lies with us to elaborate the story which was told to us. We do this both to plan our best course of action, and to refine our own worldview, in collaboration with our Guide. Again, you must take us on faith that you, if you long for this, have received the true calling. Go thou and do likewise.