Desiderium Dierum

Bellerophon

“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” -Proverbs 16:18

Ever notice how stories of arrogance tend to lose track of the protagonist after the fall?

Had the protagonist succeeded in daring the heights, would the moral of the story be the same?

Is it possible that the morals and themes of the stories we adopt have an ulterior purpose? Why are some stories elevated and others not so much? Why are some themes aggrandized and others denied?

Never forget that the fall is a spectacle seen from afar and the moral of the story is attached by onlookers and moralizers in the aftermath.

For instance, we are told that Bellerophon had designs on Olympus.

He tamed Pegasus, slayed the Chimera, and claimed a kingdom.

Is it possible that after all those bold adventures, transitioning to the drudgery of life at court turned out to be unappealing?

Could Bellerophon have known or been relatively certain he would fail?

Could it not have been arrogance but rather resignation that caused him to throw away everything he gained?

Did he value the adventure more than the spoils?

We don’t know what his internal motivations were, as he did not tell his own story.

History is written by both winners and losers, and they all lie to suit their own particular biases.

But the legend never tells its own story.

Why is that?

Chiron

To dwell alone in the only place that gives us peace is an act of love, for the peace we experience internally is a peace preserved within the greater spectacle of the whole.

An inner life too volatile and beastly to run amok in the wider world becomes a protection against the wider world running wild. The mystic’s cave wards off evil but doesn’t save the mystic from his own failings. Rather, one by one, he assimilates them into a constellation of beautifying insight.

Chiron was the wounded healer who taught young men art, science, philosophy, tempering them to duties in the greater scheme of things, but beyond this he had no place in that greater scheme. He was destined to pass on, to become one with the universe in a way his wards could not comprehend.

When we accept such a fate, we want those we love to know that we do not pass on but integrate beyond the scope of their understanding. That we are still there, aware in ways they cannot be; but we can’t let them know, for they should always look for us rather than themselves, and we did not send them into the world only to have them always looking back, like Orpheus on the edge of the underworld, ruining their chances to preserve that which is most sacred to them.

But, fixed among the stars, how shall we move on?

We cannot.

We are a destiny.

Prometheus

The man chained to the rock did not bother to move as the eagle tore his liver.

Why shouldn’t this creature enjoy its meal? He thought.

Pain was just a joke to him now, or, perhaps it would be better to say, part of the cosmic joke, and, being the embodiment of futuresight, he was well aware and more than a little relieved to discover that he was not the punchline after all.