Sun in Taurus

A Monarch Butterfly

(photo credit: Tony Hisgett, September 2011)

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There’s something nice about the idea that those in power (whoever they were) decided to schedule Earth Day for an early Taurean degree. The event falls on April 22nd and the sign which goes with it is all about both the qualities of being ‘secure’ or ‘secured’ on this planet ... and whatever gives us that sort of personal security.

So Taurus isn’t ‘about’ money. Or luxury goods. Or even food. It’s about the sense of security those things give us. Our world has taught us that if we have money we have a better ability to guarantee our survival, but the money itself is not Taurean. What money gives us is the security to think in broader terms, which is why one enterprising U.S. ex-governor (whose name I don’t recall, please forgive me...) spoke of his time trying to live on welfare’s stipend for a couple of weeks as an exercise which taught him that the essential and inescapable trial of hunger and poverty is not about whether someone is lazy or a go-getter, but how knowing we have so little stops us from thinking in terms of what we can do, instead forcing us to consider what we can’t do if we hope to see another day.

That sort of insecurity is the instinct which underlies Taurus. In Taurus we learn to take care of our Self so we can develop, so we can learn to master our body, our mind, our feelings and through all those lessons, our life.

And anything that threatens that? Or which could possibly change that when we haven’t (Gemini) thought about it and ultimately (Leo) chosen it?

That which threatens to change our life without our agreeing to it stands in opposition to our ability to feel intrinsically (individually) secure about ‘owning’ (being in control of) our own life.

In other words, it stands in opposition to the basic Taurus premise. And that sign ... that influence is Scorpio.

In Taurus, we own our Self. All things Taurus are about that Self, the owning of that Self, the having confidence in that Self and recognizing that Self as our primary and most important resource ... which is why we work to determine what our abilities are and aren’t (Taurus people are famous for standing their ground and defending the value of said position in all cases and either direction!) ... from which comes our sense of valuing of those abilities (and therefore our Self for having developed them).

Against all of this is that very peculiar Taurean instinct - an instinct which, in zodiacal terms, is purely instinct since Taurus precedes Gemini, the sign of our development of conscious and useful mentality.

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From that - from that ‘pre-mentality’ Taurean state we face others, instinctively self-defensive (at least Aries precedes Taurus!)... and that’s why Taurus-Scorpio is the polarity wherein we face our fears.

Fear is instinctive. In Scorpio - an interactive sign - others test our security ... our Taurean Self ... all along the emotional border where that Self chooses to interact - and thus risk something (even if it’s just a moment of your time) with, or in the presence of others. And how well we deal with that ability to risk our feelings ... well, while the experience of the risk (being interactive) may be Scorpio, the security of the Self, any part of which might just possibly be at risk in that Scorpio situation, that part of the saga is entirely Taurus.

It’s that part of us which values us and works to keep us safe. Or which doesn’t keep us safe. Or which simply won’t risk.

Or which dares not feel what it means to fear because the loss of false security is such a fearful thing.

War - any war against others or some situation is Scorpionic, whether we're at war with(within) our Self and prone to inflicting the byproduct of that nastiness on others, whether we're in a direct contest with others, whether we're at war with some control or restriction or whether that war is against some civil entity or faction of civilization against some other faction of civilization.

And yet peace also requires a fight. That's the nature of fixed signs - to struggle to create and to struggle to contain, which here pits 'my (Taurus) reality' against what (Scorpio) makes that reality feel safe or not.

That's the fight - our fight to get us past our own instinctive Taurus fears to where we can (Gemini) understand the world and our options and choose based on our own cooler (Gemini) ability to think and be rational. In other words, if we haven't resolved our 'fear of our own fears' on an individual basis, we aren't likely to have sufficient peace all the way around.

And yet, it's so much easier to (Scorpio) vent than (Taurus) take our Self on.

Sunset on Australia's Middle Park Beach

(photographer unknown)

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You know, by moving from the second stage in the zodiacal process - the Taurean stage - into Gemini, where with our fears in check we learn to gather information, sort through our priorities and choose, plan and set about our daily (or lifelong) business.

In the case of the current ingress, the Sun is entering Taurus at 9:43 in the morning of April 20th (UT/+0 time) in trine to Pallas (still in station mode) and square an Aquarian Ceres, speaking to not just to our relationship with society or ‘social/societal forces,’ but to something which focuses on (or simply focuses) our perspective on all such matters - that being the Pallas part of things. Pallas detaches us from things so we can 'see' what they are more clearly, whether that takes accepting something else or isolating (or becoming isolated) from some group, idea, lifestyle, system or information/comprehension, and given Pallas' April 19th turn to retrograde, we are all in the process of either internalizing something or seeing something about (or possibly in) our Self.

And that process ... or just the facts we come up with ... those things are helping us gain (Pallas) perspective on our instincts. Or maybe our various forms of ‘immaturity’ (physical or emotional) in play ... or where we are quite possibly the ‘immature’ player, whether that means we (or something) is as yet not ready for something, whether someone is simply being childish or whether the reference here is to something or someone who is just ‘young,’ whether in age or their own perspective - as one might be for reasons of lack of education, lack of mental health, or any other reason which might mark someone as not capable of (or willing to) interact on a level of equivalency or as an equal.

With Venus (the ruler of Taurus) transiting Gemini as the Sun enters Taurus, this year’s ‘Taurus Experience’ is likely to start out as a slight ‘rounding’ or ‘gentling’ of thoughts (and the feelings promoted by those thoughts) initiated through general conversation and our everyday perceptions. Most of us are a little tired of - and ready to ‘give up’ or ‘get away from’ something we’ve already met up with which we’d like to respond to (or manage) with some level of panache (and if not panache, at least competency!) ... and there’s something weighing on us which we either don’t yet know how to get done, or which we don’t want to do incorrectly and which we want to get organized before embarking upon.

Maybe even before we mention it.

Moreover, not everyone which is going on is likely to be pleasant or friendly-feeling all the way along the line. As of yesterday’s New Moon (that being the New Moon at 28 Aries - see previous post) Mercury - which is also in Taurus - came into orb of conjunction to Mars. Mars being already about half way through Taurus is representing all those things which we want ... which as Mars reaches the Taurean cross-quarters point (15 Taurus) is life pushing us to move from a ‘learning’ mode into an ‘application’ mode.

Mercury-Mars in a Taurus conjunction can represent determination. Then again, it can also represent frustration - even hostility towards self, others or (as we would suspect), some level of fear driven by a sense of lack or incapacity, perhaps. So while we may be wanting to be the person who determines something, this conjunction (which perfects at 15 Taurus on April 22nd, and which ends on April 25th) is also an opportunity to ‘try’ something or when you ‘determine’ what you want to do. Perhaps you’ll embody this by becoming determined to master some task, whether you’re trying to understand, work with or accept and interact some notion, value or fact.

Or maybe you’ll just be not wanting to admit to anything, right or wrong. Or you're just not in any mood to be challenged.

Any Mercury-Mars conjunction is going to provoke feelings of some sort. It's as if all we can (Mercury) think about is what we absolutely want ... or really truly don't like (a lot).

And that stirs many a feeling - and often some sort of instinctive (read: not necessarily well thought out) assertive (Mars-type) reaction.

 A rural road in northern Switzerland

(Benjamin Gimmel, April 2004)

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We are in other words, simply prone during this period to getting ourselves bogged down (or allowing ourselves to be stuck) in simply not wanting to change because we don’t want to.

And yes, this could be exactly the sort of immaturity being challenged - or which we are finding so very (very) challenging in others. This ‘planted in one spot’ quality is something all the earth signs adopt as a methodology at least some of the time, with the Taurus attempt to ‘own’ that which it opposes without having to actually ‘touch it’ generally taking manifesting as various attempts to control or manipulate without actually getting involved.

In other words, Taurus is the sign under which we often attempt to interaction with others without having anything apply to us ... which sounds like a way to protect one’s (Taurean) resources, but which inevitably leads to starving your Self of input and everything which could in the long run provide the tools and keys to inner security.  

People talk about Taurean negativity as ‘stubbornness’ often without any conception of how limiting the choice to be stubborn for the sake of being stubborn is ... and how the refusal to consider anything else is not about strength, but about a fear of our own vulnerabilities. And sure, we’d all rather have someone else carry our emotional baggage, but when we do that, we poison our own chances for the kind of long-lasting strength of security which can only be achieved through self-knowledge and self-confrontation.

Moreover, life truly wants to give us what we ask for. So when we fear others doing something to us - that’s what metaphysics says will happen ... which is something worth thinking about. This doesn’t mean we should think only happy, candy-coated thoughts as that doesn’t apply - not to mention how such sugar-coating is hardly honest, and avoidance of honesty is a sure sign of those underlying lacks of self worth which are so negative Taurus.

 Buffalo grazing on the Wyoming grasslands

(photo credit:Ron Nichols, United States Department of Agriculture) 

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In short, if you don’t want a war - with others or with yourself, deal with the fear within. The fear we don’t deal with we project - which does nothing other than offer opportunities to those who will fill in that gap and give us something to fear in reality.

It’s harder ... but ultimately probably a lot more productive to face our fears on our own. Once we do that, then we can live in the security of our own core providing validity and security to everyone else ... which in any mode and by any means is one of the better definitions of human success.
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Medusa: Through Our Mental Mirror, Darkly

We all know Medusa - that female gorgon of salacious tongue and twining snake hair...She who evokes such fright that human life turns to stone the moment one lays eyes on the utter perfection of her terrifying flesh.

Or at least we think we know Medusa. But neither the myth nor astrological Medusa are as simple as all that. In the general sense Medusa is about fear. But this point refers to no simple fear on our part.

No, Medusa is...more slithery than that, more frightening and less understood by that Self which in some way or form will learn to fear fearing fear.

In particular, fear of something you don't want to know...that you fear knowing about your Self or life itself. 

Which means Medusa isn't about 'that' or 'them.' Snakes and all, the Medusa in your chart says something about you.

Something intrinsic about you.

Classed as a 'common' main belt asteroid (number 149, should you need to know), we may take solace...(such as it is)...in knowing  asteroid Medusa is one of literally thousands of asteroids out there. Given how Medusa is about the sort of fear which disquiets us to the point that we will not or cannot do something (that being the 'turned to stone' quality) as humans we are going to have an intrinsic avoidance with regards to anything Medusa.

So that Medusa is merely one of thousands of life factors...that may help us feel comfortable with the 'odds' of reaching our goal(s) without facing something which will stop us in our tracks.

On the other hand, doing that very sort of 'odds weighing' as a means of getting ourselves to do what we need to do in life...isn't that also one of the ways we face the very Medusa we fear?

Ah yes, 'there is nothing to fear but fear itself,' as one American president put it.

Asteroids metaphysically represent all the many factors we face on our way from 'I'll give (this) a try...' to '...I understand now,' and in  Medusa’s case, the “cycle” period within which 'fear' or 'fearful' issues resolve whatever internal issue has been raised.

In other words, Medusa is not the solution to "the problem." The inception of Medusa cycles (which would be the conjunction in your natal chart) will refer to periods or situations which in evoking your response raises something about the difference between being driven by instinct and the honoring of that we know to be not merely true, but that which at some very deep and real level we are sworn to by our own choosing to believe...understand...stand for.
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Why all this is and would be...? That comes from the myth about Medusa, a myth which starts with three sisters.

Two of those sisters are immortal. Medusa isn't. Medusa is born mortal - just as we are - and is thus defined as "vulnerable" to things her sisters would never be affected by.

Human traits will differ. When they do, is that what makes us vulnerable to our fears? And in mythic terms, if we are reading the myth of Medusa, should we be wary if we are told that this mortal vulnerability is also described as extremely beautiful?

For Medusa is beautiful. In fact, all three of the sisters are beautiful.

But Medusa is extraordinary. Not only that, but she just loves to show off her long, gloriously beautiful hair.

As for her family, Medusa came from Titans - entities embodying the eternal, sometimes infernal and certainly uncontrollable ('titanic') forces which shape our life and world.

This being the philosophic if highly organized world of Greek mythology, it isn't surprising that such uncontrollable forces were embodied as unruly characters like the Titans. Never represented as particularly personable, wise or witty, they weren't held in high regard by the (somewhat more contained) higher ups of the Olympian pantheon.

But they were Medusa's parents. There is one version of the myth which speaks of Medusa as the child of Ixion's narcissistic lack of gratitude. Yet most name sea Titans as her parents with several names being volunteered as the parents of Medusa and her two somewhat less horrifying sisters, which because water is the metaphysical element of emotions might make it seem like sea Titans are the correct choice as the nominees for gorgon parenthood.

But if so, how is it that Medusa is born mortal and her sisters were born immortal?

That would seem to make the answer Ixion...which in turn (if true) would say Medusa began her own story as the child of Greek myth's original murderer.

And considering how the Greeks had no problem with that all-too-human habit of embodying guilt bequeathed to and embedded in our psyches less by the intent of others than by the triggering of our own internal fears...that explains a deal about the power of a myth which spells a bad end for Medusa from the moment of her beginning.

Not that the myth begins in Medusa's childhood. Far from it - the myth begins as Medusa has been sworn to serve as a priestess to the goddess of all knowledge ethical, logical and unemotional: Pallas Athena.
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Athena in Vulcan's Forge
Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574)

It was an honor to do such service in the day. So when the opportunity came to Medusa, she of course took the job of serving Athena on with pleasure.

Thus did Medusa, the vulnerable offspring of titanic emotionalism, enter into the Pallas Athena, she who in springing from Jupiter/Zeus' brow expresses the conviction that an ultimate sort of 'heady' power (wisdom) is to be found in the clarity of perspective and dispassionate comprehension.

And that's where Medusa was and what she was doing when into Athena's temple came Neptune (Poseidon). As ruler of not just oceans but all water physical and metaphysical, Neptune  embodies the 'fluid dynamic' of emotionalism - and considering how life on Earth is water based, it's not surprising that Medusa was drawn by Neptune's presence.

She could hardly help herself. After all, Neptune was Jupiter's brother - which in itself is an interesting foreshadowing of modern science considering the relative roles of planets Neptune and Jupiter in our solar system. Both planets control objects through sheer power of magnetism - which is not unlike what the Greeks postulated in their descriptions of both gods.

This is exactly how metaphysics works.

And yes, the implications can be frightening, particularly as we consider how in most versions of this myth Medusa abandons her vow in willingly succumbing to unfathomable Neptunian passions, thus defiling the sanctity of Wisdom.

That was an exceptionally bad thing to do, for while the knowing of Jupiter and truth of Athena is the basis of that we call 'Free Will,' so Neptune takes us through the full breadth of emotional arc to where all dissipates into that unconscious surrender mortals tend to call 'Fate.'
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Neptune
by Angelo Bronzino

As for the 'alternate' versions of this story, they aren't any more pleasant as they have Neptune raping Medusa. Either way, Medusa is overcome.

And because Medusa is so prone to being overcome by her emotions even when surrounded by the facts of all she has sworn to serve, Athena metes out the famous punishment by transforming Medusa from a beauty into a gorgon - something so shockingly awful as to arrest us where we stand.

In most versions of the tale Athena not only transforms Medusa but her sisters as well. Is that a curious reference to how the feelings of people who otherwise like, love or admire us are affected ("punished") by what we do? Or is the reference to punishing Medusa's sisters an allusion to how often a person shamed in one area of life tends to crumple in others?

The effects of our feelings aren't isolated, after all.

In any case, three young beauties become an ugly trio, though only Medusa achieves the landmark ability to turn mortals into stone.

It's an attribute guaranteed to make it hard to make friends and influence people in any enjoyable (never mind survivable) way and soon Medusa, frightened by her own power, did what many do: she went into isolation, turning punishment into the retreat of self-condemnation.

From that comes an important note on asteroid Medusa: where we find Medusa in the chart we find something which will cause us to hide - either literally, mentally or emotionally. That we hide from created our problems to begin with and it's always emotional.

Too bad we feel too scared of our truth to face it. But we do. There is a place in each heart, mind or soul where we lose the ability to serve in our best interest. The idea of that is scary - and the reality that we can consciously or unconsciously become the instrument of our own downfall simply because of how we are made, who we are, where we come from...that's even scarier.

And yet we know we dare not abandon ourselves to our fears, whatever they may be. 

So what do we do?

How is Medusa - our Medusa - to be defeated? 
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The call here being for a 'heroic effort' in our individual cause, the story now shifts to a Perseus, a hero in the making.

Unfortunately Perseus isn't happy. And the reasons for his unhappiness are very much understandable. Not only has Perseus just been given the task of doing away with Medusa, he's been ordered to do it for not the most altruistic of reasons.

And what would that reason be?

That reason starts with King Polydectes, a rather unsubtle fellow seriously intent on marrying Perseus’ mother, Danae.

Polydectes wants Danae in the very worst way and Danae wants nothing to do with Polydectes.

Besides being king (meaning he made all the rules) Polydectes must have also had some smarts as he didn't simply order Danae to become his wife - the common solution of the time for kingly types.

Instead, he concentrates on Danae’s god-like teen son - the product of a truly immortal affair Danae had with Jupiter. If Polydectes was going to have any chance of bullying mom to the altar, Perseus would need to be dealt with. 

So Polydectes cooks up a plan any lustful monarch would be proud of. Feigning a somewhat offended shrug, he lets everyone know that if Danae isn't interested in being his queen...well, that's her problem.

Polydectes will just be moving on.
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Danae, Mother of Perseus
by Gustav Klimt

And move on Polydectes does, soon announcing that he's chosen a different woman to be his privileged wife...at which point, with his new claim duly claimed, Polydectes stares young Perseus down. What, no wedding present?

Perseus tries pleading financial ineptitude, but that doesn't get him very far as Polydectes accuses Perseus of sitting around on his heroically lazy butt - an accusation which angers Perseus. He's been trying. He just hasn't found the right right job yet...and while he's doing his best, Perseus would take it kindly if the local king would just stop flacking him. After all, what kind of gift was Polydectes expecting from Perseus? What could a young Perseus give the king which would be any sort of suitable wedding present?

Thus the trap is sprung. Having lured young Perseus into volunteering himself, the entirely prepared Polydectes probably waits not a moment before replying.

He actually has something in mind...something Perseus could be a good lad and go fetch for his king.

That thing?

Medusa’s head.
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The Head of Medusa
(unknown Flemish artist, 16th c, oil on panel, Uffizi Gallery)

Hearing this, Danae realizes her headstrong son is in over his headstrong head. So she appeals to Zeus (Jupiter) in the key of plaintive, and Jupiter responds by sending his go-to god (Mercury) out as chief procurement organizer.

In truly Olympian fashion this soon results in Mercury and Athena (yes, that Athena) equipping Perseus not merely thoroughly, but in the manner befitting a bastard son of Jupiter (of which there were more than several).

First Mercury hands over a cap of invisibility (on loan from Pluto/Hades). Then the god helps strap his own famously winged sandals onto Perseus' demi-mortal feet before handing the teen an unbreakable, sickle-shaped sword.

But with all this, not surprisingly it's Athena's token which will count most when dealing with Medusa. That which is provided by Athena is Wisdom's own immortal shield. Brightly polished on both its outer and inner faces, Athena's shield literally images how we come to know truth (Athena) in reflection and how that reflection is meant to clarify our perspective on our Self (our truth) as we go up against our conflicts in this world, this life, this existence. 
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 The Arming of Perseus
 by Edward Burne-Jones (1885)
 

So Perseus seeks Medusa out...(apparently her cave is in Africa). And when he gets to that cave he kills the gorgon of emotionality not on sight or by looking at her, but instead by thinking through what to do and how to do it in reflection.

Perseus was out to decapitate and do away with his problem. And as anyone who has ever tried to do something based on processing directions given to them in a mirror's reflection, it takes a peculiarly intense concentration to overcome our instincts.

But it can be done - and that's the point and solution to the Medusa question: to not be driven by instinct. Where Medusa appears in a natal chart or by transit isn't our 'doom' - it's an instruction: this is where you must not operate instinctively. Understanding the issue may be frightening to you, but the cost of not facing such a fear is likely to be far, far greater in the long run.

In essence Medusa asks us to respect ourselves enough to brave our fears, whether they be simple or complex. The image of Perseus wielding the sword of Mercury while protected by Athena is nothing more or less than the metaphysical statement about how in the most dire or difficult of situations it is through the clarity of dispassionate reflection that our mortality is protected - most off all from that instinct which otherwise will prove our undoing. 

As Medusa’s head is severed, blood is spilled. And as that blood flows out into reality, from it comes Medusa's offspring, creatures sometimes considered hers alone and sometimes seen as the product of Medusa surrendering to Neptune.

Whatever that may be, whether taken separately or together, these two creatures do seem to represent Medusa's extremes of spirit: she who serves against she who without thought takes what she wants, regardless of word or promise.

Yes, Medusa does sound a bit like Ixion.

- link to - 

Ixion: Our Conflict of Self

Medusa's first child is the winged horse called Pegasus, a the embodiment of fear as flight, replete with the kind of brute-or-graceful animalistic strength which in the human terms may well suggest that aspects to and the placement of asteroid Medusa may be an important part of astrologically understanding our individual fight-or-flight imperatives whether they be active or unneeded in an otherwise happy life.

Known as “the giant Chrysaor,” Medusa's other 'blood child' grows to become a hero armed with a golden sword upon whom Medusa's curse falls through family - echoing many a human whose family experiences alternation of generational allegiances and trials. Recalling Medusa's reptilian side, one of the Chrysaor children is Echidna, a deadly she-dragon whose upper half is all beautiful female and whose lower half is that of a serpent.

The other child is known as the Geryon - or sometimes in plural form as the Geryones. This isn't a problem of counting, but rather one of distinction - a quality which recalls the 'fuzzy' or more indecisive aspects of Neptune.

In brief, this single-plural problem stems from this entity's description as “a three-bodied giant” - a quality which is somehow supposed to come out as less threatening than Echidna.

Assigned to guarding sacred cattle at the western end of the world, Geryon has come to be associated with constellation Orion the Hunter while Pegasus has its own constellation - one marked by including fixed star Scheat, a problematic star which often speaks to ideas, matters and personalities which are 'before their time' and thus subject to rejected by ourselves or others, either as a 'flight of (Pegasus) fancy' or something which is objected to instinctively.

And yes, thus often enough, incorrectly.

Using the power of reflection, after slaying Medusa Perseus covers her head with a leather sack and carries it away. Still wearing Mercury's winged sandals, he flies north with blood dribbling from the gorgon's neck.

And as those drops fall to the sands below, they give rise to all the poisonous snakes in Africa. Yet lest we think that which is poisonous is always bad, when several drops of Medusa's blood are given to someone with the highly polysyllabic name Erichthonius along with instructions how how to use it as poison, with that also comes instructions on how to use gorgon blood in reanimating the dead.

No, not literally. Perhaps in myth, yes. But for astrological purposes this is a reference to that image we most often associate with the Phoenix - the rising from the ashes, the bringing back to life that which our disproportionate passions may have theoretically destroyed.

To finish here, ultimately Polydectes receives the quintessential lesson in why we should be careful what we ask for, lest we get it when (as most versions of the story have it) Perseus returns home to learn Polydectes has raped his mother Danae.

The young hero heads for the palace where (not shockingly), Polydectes is surprised to see him.

But for good or ill, Polydectes is still Polydectes. Whipping out his most illustrious and kingly sneer, Polydectes informs Perseus that he'd 'known' Perseus couldn't kill Medusa.
 
But Perseus did kill Medusa. And to prove it, as all the king's sycophant courtiers sneer on Perseus pulls Medusa's head out of the sack, holding it up where all can see it...and be promptly turned to stone.

Some questions shouldn't be asked and some truths are impossible to live with.

But that's just life.

With the king and court duly dealt with, Perseus returns the immortal garb and weaponry to the proper Olympian immortals.

And what about Medusa's head? That Perseus gives to Athena, who then embeds it on the front of her shield - the same shield she gave Perseus to carry.

Is it a warning? Perhaps. Often we try so hard to learn and then are sorry we know. It's the essential lesson of knowledge - that with knowledge comes power, and with power comes the responsibility to use that power properly - which means sometimes in a manner which requires us to silence the voice of instinct in thinking things through.

So sometimes knowledge is indeed a frightening responsibility. But to not know and instead act solely on instinct?

That plainly can ruin a life which could otherwise have been just...beautiful.

Oh how scary...but truth nonetheless.
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Perseus (Andromeda's son) doing battle to save his mother - the mortal

spirit of innocence before that which has given Perseus life can be

overwhelmed by Neptune (emotionality) arising in 'mostrous' form from

'oceanic depths' - the psychic sea which is humankind.

So...do we really know who Medusa is? Or is Medusa that thing in our life which keeps us from being willing to know the 'frightening reality' of who we are, or what we are capable of doing to our Self or others?

Is that... the knowledge, the possible fear of 'doing' a greater share of why humans seem so drawn to preferring a dream that we can never build on in reality to a factual reality in which we could possibly build our dream but which we cannot access without facing our inner fears?

Probably.
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The head of Medusa as it ended up, mounted at the center of Pallas Athena's

shield, facing all who would approach - a lasting mythic comment on the

connection between fear, perspective and conscious wisdom...and

probably the need for just that.

Beyond whatever else, the frightening face in Wisdom's shield is a directive telling us that our greatest truths lie beyond facing our greatest fears. Only through knowing what our fears are can we choose to learn differently and dispell them.

Yet since there will always be more to learn and be, in the end the only knowledge which will ever really set us free of instinct's rampages is that truth which allows us to accept the beauty of that fear which allows us to know everything about our Self, that being the path to a life as a human being unafraid to face anything.
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