I heard of a man
who says words so beautifully
that if he only speaks their name
women give themselves to him.
That Lennie. He hit on the idea early on (an idea that became cherished by randy and artistic undergraduates everywhere) that a man could adeptly woo a woman into bed just by the power of his words. The only fly in that ointment was, he was Lennie, the rest were just undergrads.
And, of course, Leonard Cohen’s own ‘mythology’ evinces his consummate success with the opposite sex. Of course it helped that he was dashing, charming, intelligent and immensely talented. I once saw a ballet performance of his poem ‘You Have the Lovers’, performed by the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, and I must say that it was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. Yes, Len was a master of his craft.
But, I am not here to discuss Leonard Cohen and his cocksman prowess. Even I think he’s a cool dude, and I’m a hetero male. No, what I want to consider is the whole idea of mythology – personal mythology.
We all have ourselves – and we all have our mythology. Rarely do the twain meet in real life. They only meet when we try to impact others. Or, sometimes the others know us only by our mythology, and have no inkling about the real us – the sort of bread-and-butter, or blood-and-guts us. Just as well, that. Our spouses or lovers probably think they know the real us just because they’ve heard us fart, but that means little. It still is a matter of they only know what we let them know.
If we are emotionally healthy, we ‘know’ the truth about ourselves, as opposed to the myth, despite how much we might use the myth to perpetuate an image within the outer world, especially if we are trying to impress some individual in that outer world. And there are those we try to impress, for assorted reasons.
There are pitfalls in this. We fall in love with and sometimes marry somebody because we’ve fallen for an image: an image of beauty, grace and charm. Our opposite number has done the same thing. But, when we get in close quarters we a find that this vision of grace also snores, shaves her legs, leaves her dirty underwear lying around, and is even susceptible to the odd bout of diarrhea. If the love was one with the ‘real’ person, such human elements are never problematic. If the love was with the myth, the relationship can be rent asunder.
There is a worse scenario, and that is one that becomes apparent with much regularity in our ‘star-fucking’ society, and that is when the myth and reality become confused within the individual. Then it can turn ugly. If a person receives accolades enough for some accomplishment or other he or she can come to believe their own legends.
Some fine people walk the planet, blessedly, but there are no ‘gods’ striding amongst us, as much as we’re deluded into thinking there are. And we are so deluded, or else politicians, actors, athletes and so forth would have no careers.
In some cases they go over the top with narcissism that is based solely on myth amd the end result can be either tragic or risible.
Me, I have it so much together (ha!) that I probably don’t believe my mythology, though I ain’t about to tell you that if you still are under the impression that I am wise, creative, spritual and just as sexy as all get out. No point in being a damn fool about it.