Medusa: The model of the
inner skeptic
Medusa was the most feared of the mythic Greek Gorgon.
It was said that glancing at her piercing eyes would
turn a man to stone. Yet the horrific sight of her
face had not always been that way.
At one time she was a gorgeous woman, with long
beautiful hair. She boasted of her beauty and had
many men pining for her attention. In her boasting
she bragged of being more beautiful than the Greek
goddess Athena, and for that audacity, she was turned
into the fearsome form of the snake-haired creature
at whose sight men became stone.
Our skepticism, like Medusa the Gorgon, begins with
great beauty. It questions and challenges, and seeks
for truth. Yet, skepticism has the natural weakness
of the ill-fated Medusa - pride. At some invisible
line, our skepticism crosses over, and we move from
the beauty of questioning, to the grotesqueness
of cocky criticism.
Mata Hari: The model of flirtatious
trust
On October 15, 1917 a Dutch born exotic dancer who
was now past her prime blew a kiss to the twelve
men with guns, and then was executed before a firing
squad. Mata Hari (the stage name for the woman born
August 7, 1876 as Margaretha Zelle) was 41 at the
time of her execution, and had transitioned from
being an exotic dancer to a courtesan for wealthy
officers.
At the outbreak of World War I, Mata Hari was running
between a Russian officer, who was the love of her
life, and French and German businessman and officers
who helped her maintain her elegant lifestyle through
her intimate and sometimes exclusive relationships
with them.
For a short time, Mata Hari was paid by the French
to spy on German Generals, but her information turned
out to be nothing but old news.
The Germans appeared to be on to her game, and in
turn allowed messages to be intercepted which spoke
of a spy code named H 21, who had brought them valuable
information. The French were convinced that H 21
was Mata Hari, and subsequently she was tried, convicted,
and executed.
This woman who has become history’s most famous
double agent, and a name synonamous with with the
sex-spy trade, was actually a clumsy spy, and perhaps
not a double agent at all.
Our trusting hearts can sometimes be like Mata Hari.
In search for support, adventure, and love we throw
ourselves into danger only to find that our suitors
are playing us for fools. We clumsily play the game
of trust, and this can leave us wounded and bitter.
