Blue Fox Shaman

[The first installment in what we anticipate will become a regular dust-up.]

Orpheus and Eurydice, the story in outline:

The rock star Orpheus marries the beautiful Eurydice and they live happily for a while. But that happiness is fated to be short-lived. Eurydice dies of a drug overdose and Orpheus writes some of his most poignant hits. Then he gets the idea to hold a benefit concert for the Dead, and figures if they’re grateful, maybe he can convince Hades and Persephone to release Eurydice back to the land of the living.

The concert is a success, and the Infernal Couple themselves meet Orpheus backstage and promise to release Eurydice… under one condition. Orpheus must go first, and Eurydice will follow, but he must not look back at her until they reach the Upper World.

Fair enough, but then Orpheus gets to thinking and he thinks all kinds of unhelpful thoughts. What if Eurydice is not following? What if it’s not the “real” her but just a shadow… or a ghost? What if its actually a monster following him out of Hades’ Realm? Unable to resist the temptation, he looks back before they reach the surface, and Eurydice vanishes back into the Underworld.

The moral of the story:

Like so many ancient tales that have a really bad ending (and for which the Ancient Greeks and Romans are mostly to blame) we can take this as an object lesson in what not to do. Okay, but which part exactly? We’re going to assume that it’s that last part, the looking back before the proper time, that is the crux of this cautionary tale. And to really make sense of any of it, let’s recall that the whole story is a metaphor for something, since it’s unlikely that even a big rock star can raise someone from the dead, even if he or she has won several Grammys.

We’re going to take this as a tale about what used to be called “soul retrieval”. That used to mean literally bringing back someone’s soul from captivity (possibly in the Underworld) even though the body might be functioning more or less normally or, at least, still living. Again, dig for the metaphor. There’s probably several diagnoses we could relate to this idea of soul loss/retrieval, but a real good one is “major depressive disorder” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_depressive_disorder) and the possibility of a  “cure”.

Given that, what’s the lesson (the moral) of the story? How about this for starters– to be a true help in someone’s recovery, you have to recognize that the soul you retrieve will be touched by their sojourn in the Realms of Darkness. No, the recovered soul will not be a monster, but it will carry the miasma of those Realms. Let it. Don’t look back at what it used to be. Keep looking forward, with unconditional acceptance, to what the recovered self/soul is and can be. In the best outcome, it will be a soul deepened and more resilient.

This also works for those who wish to recover their childlike wonder, their creative spark, or just some bit of happiness in life. Your life will be different. Not necessarily bad, but definitely different. Life and Loss are forever playing cards, and sometimes one or the other draws a really good hand. So deal us in! In the best case scenario, you will come back with some of the secrets of that Underworld Realm into which all Life flows and from which it is constantly renewed.

Oh yeah– and sometimes a sad song and a good cry are what you need, a little ΚΑΘΑΡΜΟΣ (purificatory offering). If you go to one of those concerts, could you bring us back a tie-dye t-shirt, size medium? Thanks!