The Myth Of Medusa Is A Trauma Journey
By: Peter Middleton
Tags: Literature, Self Improvement, Trauma, Mental Health, Mythology

Greek mythology is laden with symbolic significance for humanity; in this particular story, you can see that the myth of Medusa is closely related to the development of a traumatic event.

Medusa seduced by the God of the sea Poseidon and impregnated in the temple of Athena. The Virgin Goddess Athena’s rage came down upon Medusa however, she cursed Medusa to being of monster form, with a head full of snakes, instead of hair.

Even this start to the story speaks so much of life experience. A woman born of beauty is seduced by a powerful man into doing something that angered a broader power — then punished. Does that speak to you of victim-blaming?

In any case, she was sent back to the land where she grew, to be with the Gorgons.

“Her face was so hideous and her gaze so piercing that the mere sight of her was sufficient to turn a man to stone.”

Later in the story, Polydectes, the king of Seriphos, was trying to get rid of a young warrior, a half-God, Perseus, so he asked him to fetch the head of Medusa, thinking that he’d be killed.

However, Perseus enlisted the help of Athena, Hermes, and Hades. Athena gave him the knowledge that you cannot look directly into Medusa’s eyes, or you’ll turn to stone. She gave Perseus a bronze shield with which to protect himself. Hades, God of the underworld, gave him an invisibility cloak and Hermes gave him winged sandals.

These three Gods have a pertinent message: immaculate purity, subconscious underworld, and the messenger.

Going into the land of trauma healing takes clarity of mind, purity of mind. You have to go in there with the intention to heal, and not to re-traumatise.

I recently listened to a fantastic session with David Treleaven, as part of the Embodiment Conference 2020.

He was talking about the double edge sword of mindfulness; a sensitivity to trauma, and it’s so true. My journey through trauma and mindfulness has been fraught with close calls in re-traumatisation. I’m glad this conversation is developing.

He mentioned three main aims of mindfulness around trauma:

recognise symptoms

respond skilfully

prevent re-traumatisation

This is work for the practitioners and teachers.

Treleaven says that Medusa is much like trauma because you can’t look directly at her. The same is true of trauma; often, trauma survivors want to orient towards the trauma and the senses that remind them of the trauma, because they want to make sure they’re safe.

The sad fact is that most of the time they redirect themselves back into re-traumatisation, and can develop an obsessive compulsion with providing safety, through the trauma sensations, to no avail.

He suggests three ways to bring trauma sensitivity into mindfulness:

Focus on sounds

Bring the awareness to bodily sensations besides the breath. (how do your feet feel on the ground, what does your chest feel like, how are your arms feeling)

Bring the breath into focus, and also notice the physical aspects of the breath.

When Perseus went into the labyrinth to find Medusa he found her sleeping, he took in a bronze shield to see her without meeting her gaze; he took an invisibility cap and winged feet.

To me, this speaks to healing trauma — the dissociative practices required to understand and contextualise traumatic memory. Whether you achieve this in mindfulness or psychotherapy, it’s essential to revisit aspects around the traumatic memory, to build up a picture of safety.

You can’t just go in and stare into the eyes of the beast; the trauma. It’ll turn you to stone. The turning to stone aspect speaks of the overload, or stress response, in which your body exists.

Trauma response is over-stimulated and dysregulated parasympathetic response. It means your body is in overdrive to keep you safe; to survive.

What often occurs for trauma survivors is they can’t switch that off. They live in that mode. It’s exhausting, and it causes a lot of despair.

What’s interesting about this story is Medusa probably comes from the ancient Greek word for “guardian.” Snakes are an ancient symbol for intellect and wisdom, and the bronze is often a symbol of wealth, safety, and courage.

One of Athena’s animals; the Goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and warfare, was the snake.

Medusa represents trauma or that which is freezing to a human being. A knowledge that cannot be directly known.

He has to take a shield. He needs the lateral mirror, a fractal understanding.

After this, Perseus gave Medusa’s head to his benefactor Athena, as a votive gift. The Goddess set it on Zeus’ aegis (which she also carried) as the Gorgoneion. She also collected some of the remaining blood and gave most of it to Asclepius, who used the blood from Medusa’s left side to take people’s lives and the blood from her right side to raise people from the dead. The rest of Medusa’s blood — a vial containing two drops — Athena gave to her adopted son, Erichthonius; Euripides says that one of the drops was a cure-all, and the other one a deadly poison. — Greek Mythology

This speaks well to the two sides that an awareness practice can have on the trauma survivor.

Socrates said:

An unexamined life is not worth living.

Yes, and he also went on to elaborate on how to examine correctly.

One side of trauma awareness is a direct key to a different life, an understanding of nature, and a deeper understanding of the essence of you. The other is an immersion into the darkness; a deadly poison, which takes you back into the traumatic memory, and even reinforces the problematic behaviours that come directly from struggling to survive from a traumatic event.

It’s a balance, and it’s essential to get it right.

There are many gifts within trauma, yet you cannot approach a trauma experience head-on, you have to contextualise it, and approach it from a safe and secure environment.

To finish up with, Treleaven shared a profound exercise.

Make a fist with your left hand, and grip it tight. Then try and prise it apart, try to break the grip, whilst still maintaining the energy of the closed fist. Impossible right? Futile.

Now, take your left and hand, still gripped in a fist, and place it in your cupped right hand. Notice how your hand feels. Notice how supported you feel, and notice what your left hand wants to do. Does it want to unfold?

The very least you may feel is safe, and supported, right?

Well, this is how to heal from trauma, not by doing, but by safety, disconfirming experiences of connection and trust, and security of knowing that you belong.

We can learn much from the old mythology; all the symbols are still there.