Echoes of Narcissus: A Relational View of the Myth and its Relevance Today
The ancient Greek myth of Narcissus has captivated audiences for centuries. In this episode, I and Dr Maria Kempinska will explore the classic tale of the beautiful youth who falls in love with his own reflection as well as modern psychoanalytic interpretations of this story. Looking through the lens of Classical and Relational psychoanalytic theories, we'll analyse what the myth reveals about narcissism, self-absorption, relationships, and the human psyche.
Relational psychoanalysis focuses on the intersubjective aspects of narcissism—how one's sense of self is constructed through interactions with others. The character of Echo in the myth highlights this interconnectedness. Despite being cursed to only repeat others, Echo attempts connection with Narcissus. However, he remains trapped in a feedback loop of self-love. What does this say about the dangers of disconnecting from empathetic engagement? How can relational insights help address narcissistic traits?
Additionally, we'll explore how various contemporary psychoanalytic conceptualisations map onto this myth and its representations of ego formation and identification with an idealized image. What happens when, like Narcissus, someone becomes stuck in this phase? How is this relevant in today's culture of Instagram filters, selfies, online dating, and constructing public personas? What wisdom does this ancient story offer for finding balance in life? How can we avoid becoming a society of individuals obsessed with superficial appearances and self-absorption?
By analyzing this classic myth through psychoanalytic lenses, we can illuminate patterns in our psyche, relationships and culture while exploring thought-provoking questions about self-knowledge, empathy and what it means to live a purposeful life. The timeless and tragic tale of Narcissus continues to hold up a mirror that reflects back insightful truths about ourselves.
Here is a link to the YouTube conversation: (126) MYTHOLOGY PSYCHOLOGY OF THE DEEPER PSYCHE - YouTube
The Midas Touch: When All That Glitters Isn't Gold
The myth of King Midas tells the story of a powerful king who had an insatiable desire for wealth and material possessions. One day, he had the good fortune of helping the god Dionysus, who was pleased with his actions and offered him a wish. King Midas, without much thought, wished that everything he touched would turn to gold. The god granted his wish, and King Midas was initially overjoyed as he touched various objects and they transformed into gold.
However, his joy quickly turned into despair as he realized that everything he touched, including food and drink, turned to gold, leaving him unable to eat or drink. Even his beloved daughter turned to gold when he embraced her. Realizing the terrible mistake he had made, King Midas begged Dionysus to take back his wish. The god agreed, instructing King Midas to wash in the river Pactolus to reverse the golden touch.
The myth issues a warning about the dangers of narcissism, greed, and the desire for material possessions. In the modern world, many people are driven by the pursuit of wealth and possessions, often at the expense of their personal relationships, health, and happiness. The myth of King Midas reminds us that the pursuit of material wealth can have disastrous consequences if we lose sight of what is truly important in life. The story also emphasizes the importance of being careful what we wish for and the potential unintended consequences that can result from our desires.
Please use the link below to listen to a YouTube video in which I and Dr Maria Kempinska discuss the King Midas’ myth and its relevance for our times
KING MIDAS THE BILLIONAIRE TOUCH - BUT DOES IT BUY HIM ALL HE WISHES FOR? - YouTube
MEDEA - Overwhelming pain turns to anger and revenge
The Myth of Medea
The myth of Medea is a classic tale from Greek mythology that tells the story of a passionate and vengeful sorceress. Medea was the daughter of King Aeetes of Colchis, and was known for her extraordinary skills in magic and medicine. She fell deeply in love with Jason, a prince from Iolcus who had come to Colchis in search of the Golden Fleece. Medea helped Jason to obtain the Fleece and flee from Colchis, but in doing so she incurred the wrath of her father and had to leave her home and family behind.
Jason and Medea arrived in Iolcus, where Jason became king. The couple was happy for a time, but their happiness was short-lived as Jason soon took a new wife, Glauce, the daughter of the king of Corinth. Medea was devastated by Jason's betrayal, and she swore to take revenge. She tricked Glauce into wearing a dress that had been poisoned by Medea's magic, and as a result, Glauce died a slow and painful death.
Next, Medea killed her own two sons by Jason, hoping to hurt him as deeply as he had hurt her. Finally, she escaped from Iolcus on a chariot drawn by dragons, and fled to Athens. There, she sought refuge with King Aegeus, who gave her asylum in exchange for her knowledge of magic and medicine.
The myth of Medea continues to be popular and has been retold in many different forms throughout history, including plays, operas, and films. It is a tale of love, betrayal, and revenge that explores the destructive power of passion and the devastating consequences of wrong decisions. It is also a cautionary tale about the dangers of giving in to anger and revenge, and about the importance of facing the consequences of our actions.
Medea is often portrayed as a complex and multifaceted character, capable of both love and cruelty, and her story continues to resonate with audiences today. Whether she is seen as a victim or a villain, the myth of Medea remains an enduring reminder of the power of love, and of the dangers that arise when that love turns to hatred and destruction.
Medea as a Mother
Medea's actions, as portrayed in the myth, can be seen as a manifestation of her fears and anxieties surrounding motherhood. Her intense love for Jason, her husband, is a reflection of her unconscious desire for connection and intimacy, but when she learns of his betrayal, her fear of abandonment is triggered. This fear, combined with her desire for revenge, leads her to commit the ultimate act of betrayal by killing her own children.
Medea's act of killing her own children can be seen as a manifestation of her fears surrounding motherhood. Her fear of losing her connection with Jason and her overwhelming pain of abandonment are intertwined with her fear of losing her identity as a mother. Her desire for revenge can also be seen as a manifestation of her fear of being rejected or cast aside as a mother.
Furthermore, the act of killing her own children can be seen as a way for Medea to regain control over her life and assert her power. By taking away the source of her fear (her children) and her greatest source of joy (her role as a mother), she is able to regain a sense of control and power over her life.
In conclusion, the story of Medea highlights the complex and often conflicting emotions that can be associated with motherhood. It serves as a cautionary tale of the destructive consequences that can result from unresolved fears and anxieties surrounding the maternal role. Through her story, we gain insight into the deep-seated fears and desires that can shape the experiences of mothers and the impact that these experiences can have on their relationships with others.
Please watch how I and Dr M. Kempinska analyse the myth by exploring its contemporary psychological and social implications:
(183) MEDEA - OVERWHELMING PAIN TURNS TO REVENGE & PUNISHMENT - YouTube
Oedipus Rex - Destiny and our Unconscious Mind
Oedipus Rex is an ancient Greek tragedy written by Sophocles in the 5th century BC. It tells the story of a young man who unwittingly kills his father and marries his mother—a crime for which he is punished severely by the gods. In some interpretations, it is seen as a cautionary tale about hubris—the idea that humans should not attempt to go against fate or challenge their gods. But in many modern interpretations of the play, it is seen as an exploration of how our own unconscious desires can lead us down dangerous paths without us even being aware of them.
The stry of Oedipus has been used since Freud's time as an illustration of his psychoanalytic concepts—including repression, denial, and projection. In particular, Freud saw parallels between Oedipus’ unwitting incestuous relationship with his mother and killing of his father and what he called the Oedipal complex—a set of unconscious sexual and murderous desires toward one's parents which Freud believed were universal among humans. He believed that such repressed desires could manifest themselves in various ways—often leading to neurosis if they weren't properly addressed in therapy.
However, the story of Oedipus could also be viewed through through a relational psychoanalytic lens, emphasising the role of early childhood trauma and the unconscious communications transmitted by the parents that the infant is called to make sense of. If you want to find out more about this fascinating story and its relational dimension, please listen to Dr Anastasios Gaitanidis’ interview with Dr Maria Kempinska. Here is the link:
https://soundcloud.com/womensradiostation/your-mind-matters-anastasios-gaitanidis-oedipus-myth-destiny-300123?si=9ecc8aca1c4f48c89a1d8df120f310b0&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
Exile, incest, blinding guilt… just another day in the life of Oedipus.
The story of Oedipus is one that has captivated audiences throughout the centuries. It tells the legendary tale of a man who unknowingly kills his father and marries his own mother. Although the tragedy of his choices haunts him throughout his life, it is ultimately what propels him on a journey to discover who he truly is. Originally written by Sophocles in the 5th century BC, Oedipus' chilling destiny continues to draw people from around the world to reflect upon our complex relationships with fate, family and identity.
The story of Oedipus, one of the most famous tales from Greek mythology, tells a haunting narrative of fate and inevitability. After being separated from his parents at birth, Oedipus fulfils a twisted prophecy and unknowingly kills his father and marries his mother. Through his self-fulfilling actions, Oedipus pays for his hubris with terrible consequences as he is plagued by both guilt and revulsion. The story of Oedipus serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of pride and egotism coupled with naiveté, making it an enduring classic and still relevant today.
Here is a link to the conversation between Dr Anastasios Gaitanidis and Dr Maria Kempinska regarding the myth of Oedipus and its contemporary relevance.
CPN/SAFPAC Conference 2021 - Beyond the Phallus and/or the Breast: A Relational Understanding of Maleness
In this presentation, I critically examine how psychotherapeutic and social practices are still haunted in their conceptualisation of masculinity by either the legacy of the phallus or the privileging of the breast or the mother-child dyad which disregard or repudiate the relational dynamics of maleness. For this reason, I propose new ways of conceptualising the position of the male, which involve both the enhancement of his capacity for critical reasoning and broadening of his sphere of experience to include emotional connectivity and acknowledgement of desire. I finish the presentation with a personal example as I try to establish links with my own history and background by attempting to reconnect with my father.
(164) CPN/SAFPAC Conference 2021 - 6. Anastasios Gaitanidis - YouTube
ANTIGONE: A Moral Warrior - A Myth for Today
I am very pleased to share with you the link to a YouTube video (see below) which contains an in-depth analysis of ‘Antigone’ - Sophocles’ third play from his Theban trilogy - carried out by I and Dr Maria Kempinska. Antigone is a moral warrior, a woman with extreme courage and bravery, someone who is not afraid to sacrifice her life in order to resist the power of an unjust law and a tyrannical leader. She certainly provides a supreme ethical example for our troubled times.
(134) Dr. Maria Kempinska - ANTIGONE WARRIOR - MYTH FOR TODAY - YouTube
Your Mind Matters - Anastasios Gaitanidis, Myths For Healing 11.07.22
I am very pleased to announce that my interview with Dr Maria Kempinska was part of ‘Your Mind Matters’ Broadcast on Men’s Radio Station (at 3 pm) and Women’s Radio Station (at 12 am and 12 pm) on Monday the 11th June and for a whole week. Dr. Kempinska is a great interviewer and I enjoyed our lively interchange regarding my clinical work as a relational psychoanalyst as well as our fascinating exploration of my favourite Greek myths. I hope you will, too. Here is a link to the SoundCloud recording of the interview:
https://soundcloud.com/womensradiostation/your-mind-matters-anastasios-gaitanidis-myths-for-healing-110722?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
‘Moments of Grace’ in the Psychoanalytic Encounter
In this video recording of my WPF seminar on the ‘Sublime in Everyday Life’, I move beyond the feelings of terror and awe that one experiences in one’s encounter with the sublime by describing the unanticipated and surprising everyday ‘openings’ to the ‘otherness’ of the other (both with a small ‘o’ and a big ‘O’) through what I call ‘moments of grace’. I believe that there is a lot to be gained by transcending the ‘traumatophilic’ aspects of the sublime in order to capture these moments of grace that the sublime experience holds for us which could lead to the co-creation of new and unexpected ways of meeting the ‘other’. Chance encounters with strangers, coming into contact with natural beauty, listening to the ‘music of what happens’, processing loss and falling in love, sharing moments of reverie with one’s patients are all examples of these ‘moments of grace’ that could help us bear the ‘gravity’ of our despair for a ‘life that does not live’.
Here is a link to Anastasios’ WPF talk:
'Moments of Grace' in the Psychoanalytic Encounter - YouTube
Despair and Hope for a ‘Life that Does not Live’ - Conference Presentation
This is a conference paper on Kierkegaard's notion of 'despair' as it is defined and explained in his book 'The Sickness Unto Death' and its relevance for our current therapeutic, social and political practices.
If according to Kierkegaard despair is a "sickness unto death", a sickness which does not lead to one's physical death but like a "moribund [one] lies and struggles with death, and cannot die - yet not as though there were hope of life", then I propose that we currently exist in a constant state of despair that is not acknowledged and declared as we are faced with a great danger that death cannot protect us against.
This great danger is not simply the threat of Covid-19 as a potentially death-inducing illness; it is the sickness emerging from our anaesthesia and anti-emotionality that dominate our everyday encounters with ourselves and others, the lack of connectivity and sensitivity to other people's suffering and death as a way of avoiding 'suffering' our own feelings and registering our own mortality. We try to turn ourselves to no-thing so as to avoid feeling any-thing: if we are already no-thing, then the death of ourselves or others cannot affect or destroy any-thing within us.
Bereft of aliveness resulting from our connection to our own and other bodies, death also becomes nothing for us. It becomes a negligible quantity which is entirely assimilated. Moreover, as we are repeatedly reminded of the priority of the health of the markets over our own health, especially the health of those who are deemed not to be economically relevant or productive anymore, death merely confirms the absolute irrelevance of our own and other bodies (especially of those who are no-bodies) in the face of the social and economic body.
What is decisive here, however, is the absorption of biological destruction by collective will. "For only a humanity", Adorno suggests in Minima Moralia, "to whom death has become as indifferent as its members, that has itself died, can inflict it administratively on innumerable people." If there is to be any hope, the despair of a "life that does not live" needs to be acknowledged so as to lead to the symbolic death of our disconnected self and the rebirth of a self that is constituted (as well as undone) by our connection to others.
Here is a link to the YouTube video of the conference talk:
Kierkegaard's Despair and Hope for the 'Life that Does not Live' - Conference Presentation - YouTube
The Sublime in Everyday Life: Psychoanalytic and Aesthetic Perspectives (Edited by Anastasios Gaitanidis and Polona Curk - Routledge, 2021)
This book is a work of love as a sublime event in its different forms and emanations. It begun with the love of wisdom (philosophy) and the love of truth and then moved to the truth of love, the love as it is expressed in poetry, literature, film, theatre, play and, most importantly, as it is experienced in our interactions with friends, comrades, and companions. It is because of these sublime interactions with friends and companions both past and present that this book has come into existence. First, my dear friend Tessa who started this project with me almost 12 years ago and then my good friend Polona who stepped in as a co-editor and saviour when Tessa was no longer alive. All of the contributors are also friends or they have become so through the process of working together over the last two years. Of course, this book would not have been possible without the love and friendship of my wife, Sasha, whose sublime presence is a constant source of inspiration for me. For the sublime as it is conceived in our book is not simply an individualistic event that introduces greatness into the ordinary and the mundane. It is based on experiences that are shared and have the power to elevate us together. As I will shortly demonstrate with some examples, the everyday sublime is not only a singular feat we strive for as individuals, but it is also an uncommon value that could be held jointly and lead to change.
I remember as a young man in my early 20s, after having had my first serious break-up, sitting on a bench, looking melancholic while waiting for the bus to arrive. An old lady who was also waiting for her bus, sat next to me, touch my hand softly and said: Please don’t worry my son. In life, you will experience sorrow and joy in equal measure. She then stood up, got into the bus, and disappeared, never to be seen again. It took this moment of sublime grace and connection to make me realise that nothing in life is permanent, not even my worries.
To live with this transience is to love what is mortal. But how could one love what is mortal in a time when the crematoria are running out of wood to burn the corpses? How can one love what is mortal in the midst of so much destruction and violent death? This seems to be a nightmare from which we will not awake if we do not deal with the haunting memories of those who died in vain. This is not only an issue of ‘sublimation’, i.e., of how to transform the nightmare into a dream – the primary objective of psychoanalytic therapy; this is also a matter of truth and social justice. “To the living we owe respect, but to the dead we owe only the truth”, said Voltaire.
So, at times, it feels as if writing about love during or after the pandemic could be seen as barbaric, an act of cruel indifference to suffering. Yet, not to write at all would mean to deny that “perennial suffering has as much right to expression as the tortured have to scream” (to paraphrase Adorno). At least, this act of sublimation gives some form to suffering in contrast to the repressive de-sublimation which maintains our careless apathy by thoughtlessly evacuating our pain onto others.
But what is the relation of the sublime in writing and art to the other’s suffering? Is it similar to the one described by Auden’s poem Museé des Beaux Arts? In the poem, Auden describes Brueghel's painting Landscape with the Fall of Icarus and people’s indifference towards the falling boy in the following way:
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position: how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along…
In order to overcome indifference, the sublime disposition that Auden reflects (and prescribes) here is one that attempts to acquire some distance, to be at one remove (like the Old Masters) or, perhaps, two steps removed (as Auden was) from suffering so as to be able to witness it. It is like looking at the sun through a glass darkly. Otherwise, we will be blinded or worse, taking Icarus fall as a warning, we will fly too close to the sun, the wax will melt, lose our wings, fall into the sea, and drown.
However, although we cannot observe suffering for a long time without blinking an eye, we do not also have to turn a blind eye to it by turning it into our contemporary primal scene. Perhaps with differing levels of awareness, it is likely that people still experience physical reactions to direct or indirect trauma and violence to and from the other within their environments: a knot in the pit of their stomach when they hear that refugees are treated as illegal aliens, a pain in their lower back when they experience someone complaining that s/he is a ‘costumer’ and needs to receive a particular service, acid reflux when they see people flaunting their privilege without any consideration for its effects on their fellow human beings, and losing breath when they can only find scraps of time to spend with their friends and families as they are overwhelmed with useless, mind-numbing administrative tasks. Perhaps, we have all become veritable hysterics! However, unlike the hysterics of Freud’s era, we do not have the time to reflect on and process this physicality which, as a consequence, becomes fleeting and transitory. Through certain works of art that manage to arrest this transitoriness and express suffering in ways that we cannot escape from or ignore anymore, we can re-gain the opportunity to encounter it in a different form and process it more effectively. Apart from works of art, psychoanalysis also serves the same aesthetic function – it cultivates a science (and an art of) of sensibility that attends to the suffering mind-body and the current shocks inflicted on it by the world.
We also need to be very aware of the dangers of concealment in the adoption of a life informed by the aesthetic dimension without an awareness of social and structural inequalities. I remember driving on the motorway with Tessa… There were road works everywhere. We were unnecessarily delayed. I was irritated. She said: “Look, Anastasios! Just look! Aren't they beautiful?” “What is beautiful Tessa? I don’t understand.” “The roadworks, you silly. What else?” And she went on to describe the exceptional symmetrical arrangement of the pylons and traffic cones that made the whole artificial landscape so aesthetically pleasing. I was struck by her ability to not simply observe, but to look - really look - and find what is beautiful and sublime even in the most mundane (and, frankly, deeply frustrating) aspects of everyday reality. I thought she was blessed with a vision that could make the world sacred again. But I was also aware of the real suffering that this gesture could potentially conceal, i.e., of its ideological nature, if it is not followed by an awareness of the toil and pain of the workers involved in the road repairs.
When I began writing my chapter on love as a sublime event, I had a sense that I was lost for words. These were words that were lost but were never there, words that were yet-to-come, words that, if I allowed myself enough time, they would have appeared again to leaven truth with love. I suppose this is what makes loss so difficult to bear: you do not lose only what you had, but also what you would have become if you hadn’t lost it. But, of course, this is also a fantasy, as if these words could ever be completely found. Yet, I feel it is important to allow one’s words to be lost for a while and not try to tie them to a mast. It is important not to pin one’s words down. You see, “words are like angels, if you pin them down too quickly, they lose their wings and die” – to paraphrase Virginia Wolf.
“Stop! Enough! Stop!” I can hear Tessa saying to me: “When it comes to love, you need to do what will cost you the most…” I remember feeling puzzled by this answer she gave when I asked her whether I should stay in a relationship that would potentially cause me a lot of pain. It is only years later that I came to realise that if I had succumbed to the calculus of neo-liberal dating, I would have missed on years of precious connection and mutual generosity. As Mary Oliver says in in her short poem The Uses of Sorrow:
Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.
Here is a link to the YouTube video of the book launch: