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Thursday, July 11, 2013

Narcissus and Echo






Can Be

Damaging To Your Health...

A mythical tale handed down over time. The parable of unrequited love and a karmic solution. Echo, a delicate woodland nymph worshipped the stunningly beautiful Narcissus from afar. Deep in the woods her tiny voice spoke his name, filled with hope and aspiration. Narcissus, turned his back and filled with contempt, left her to wither until all that was left was a shimmery echo trilling through the trees.

Narcissus needed no one. Respected no one. Cared only for himself. Narcissus was more than a brat. He was arrogant and capable only of self-love. His perspective focused inward until the fateful day he caught his reflection in a pool. There, an image, floated on the shimmer of the water, so lovely, so beautiful, he reached out for the first time and for the last. He fell into the pool and drowned.
Echo lives on in caves and woodlands and mountain valleys, her voice a gentle reminder that yes, yes I hear you. Yes, yes I receive you. And yes, yes, I return your love to you.

Narcissus lives on as a beautiful white flower bobbing on the surface of the pond. A flower gazed upon, commented on, held in hand and admired for its beauty. A vision. A vision to be seen. A love too late returned.

A myth? No, perhaps a truth.

People do what they want to do. 

We do not change them. We cannot. 

People change only when what they do doesn't work anymore, and sometimes, sadly, not even then. 

I believe this is what I like to call second chances. 

Or perhaps you call it karma. 

I like to think of it as a change of perspective. A turning inside out. Stepping away from the mirror where we see ourselves as we think we are, and meeting ourselves out in the world where others see us for who we are.


My how things change. 

When the world turns upside down. 

When seas rise up, when tornadoes crash through town, when earthquakes shake, when floods deluge and the drought dries us out. 

We emerge from the rubble, dust ourselves off and reach out a hand. 

The doers do.

But what about those frail few, who know not their neighbors, barely acknowledge the folks behind them in line, those who must be first, must know best, must be right, those who stand at the edge of the reflecting pool and only see themselves, their point of view, their perspective from above. 
The world is not fair. It is not fair that the crass, the self-indulged, the critical, nasty, snarky, smug, cynical snobs inherit the earth. 

Revenge. Yes, that's the ticket. 

Even the score. 

Settle the bet. 

Lay them flat. 

No. No. No, I whisper from the middle of the glen.

And the Echo returns to me. 

No. No. No. 

The voice of love travels wide and far, 

down every path and every winding road, 

until even the most sorrowful and lost soul lifts its head to hear. 

Forgive and forget. 

Forget and forgive. 

...Fifi Forget-Me-Not...

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