Echo

So in my textbook, the first chapter's on attachment, which is who we are in love and relationships, and I wanted to translate this into, kind of wrap it into a story.

So I thought, "Hmm, you know, Freud actually got the term narcissism from the story of Narcissus and Echo in Greek mythology." A lot of the psychological, uh, diagnoses that we know today came from Greek mythology.

Phobia came from Phobos, and even the word psychology itself, psyche means soul.

Uh, the goddess of the soul was Psyche.

Like, how do we gradually become the, the most beautiful version of ourselves?

What a lovely question.

Um, so the first chapter of the book, um, is the story of Narcissus and Echo.

And, um, it's the difference between narcissism versus self-love, 'cause people are afraid, "If I love myself, I'll become a narcissist." And actually, narcissists are so self-loathing, they feel so empty inside, that without the narcissistic supply they feel empty.

This is, like, the full literary version of that one-sentence thing.

Narcissus was a guy who spurned lovers until he fell in love with himself and died looking at his own reflection, right? It's worth saying before we get right into the poem that in this telling of it, and in the background elsewhere in the bits of the poem that we're not gonna read, we get a kind of genealogy of Narcissus and this person named Echo.

Not a person, a nymph.

A nymph.

And-

I mean, nymphs are people too, but you know.

[laughs] And Narcissus in this version is the son of a river god, which is kind of interesting, too, right? And another nymph, and Echo is the other character in this story.

And as we're about to see, it really is a story of two characters.

Enjoy the episode.

Narcissus and Echo.

Once upon a time in ancient Greece, there was a young man named Narcissus.

From the minute he was born, it was clear to everyone that he was no normal baby.

Deep in the woods, Narcissus could finally be alone with his beautiful self, or so he thought.

In ancient Greece, even in the deep dark depths of the enchanted woods, there were creatures ready to fall in love, creatures who looked familiar but not quite human, and one of them was watching Narcissus already, scrambling from branch to branch after him, nimble as a squirrel.

The creature was a nymph, and her name was Echo.

Nymphs are spirits of the forest, and they're always curious about human travelers.

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Now, let's take a journey with Echo and Syrinx.

Echo was one of the nymphs with whom Pan fell in love.

She was a happy nymph who chattered and prattled all day long and never kept quiet long enough for Pan to win her with music and poetry.

One day, Hera came down from Olympus to look for Zeus.

She suspected that he was playing with the nymphs, but Echo detained her so long with idle chatter that Zeus, who really was there, was able to sneak her away.

Hera, in a rage, punished Echo by taking from her the gift of forming her own words.

From then on, poor Echo could only repeat the words of others.

Juno, read by Larry Wilson.

Echo, read by Claudia Caldi.

Maiden, read by Hannah Lake.

First Nymph, read by Agnes Robert-Bear.

i understand not the condition may further knowledge be given i

can speak the word but i may not interpret it this is all that can be vouchsafed concerning the fate of narcissus

Echo has offended Juno by her chatter and is punished for her fault.

You are a vain and forward nymph, fond of the sound of your own voice, and ever telling long stories when you should be silent.

Then he turned to me again, frowning.

but young sharptongue now that we have caught you we will put you into a trap that you cannot get out of weld an iron collar on his neck so i lived and now am your tooth-troll well it is the luck of war but by the share of odin i kept my vow yes cried harald jumping to his feet and had a joke into the bargain ah some time i will make a brave vow like that end of olaf's farm by jenny hall echo

and narcissus in a book of myths by jean Echo and Narcissus in the solitudes of the hills we find her and yet we may come on her unawares in the din of a noisy city she will answer us where the waves are lashing themselves against the rugged cliffs of our own british coast or we may find her where the great yellow pillars of fallen temples lie hot in the sun close to the vivid blue water of the african sea at nightfall on the lonely northern moors she mimics the cry of a wailing bird that calls for its mate but it is she who prolongs the roll of the great organ in a vast cathedral she who repeats the rattle and crack and boom of the guns no matter in what land the war may be raging in the desolate australian bush she makes the crash of the falling limb of a dead gum-tree go on and on and tortures the human being who is lost hopelessly lost and facing a cruel death by repeating his despairing calls for help through the night in old country houses she sports at will and gives life to sad old tales of the restless dead who restlessly walk but she echoes the children's voices as they play by the seashore or pick primroses in the woods in spring, and when they greet her with laughter, she laughs in merry response.

They may fear her when the sun has gone down, and when they are left all alone, they begin to dread her mockery.

Yet the nymph who sought for love and failed to gain what she sought must surely find some comfort on those bright days of summer and of spring when she gives the little children happiness and they give her their love.

When all the world was young, and nymphs and fauns and dryads dwelt in the forests, there was no nymph more lovely and more gay than she whose name was Echo.

Diana would smile on her for her fleetness of foot when she followed her in the chase, and those whom she met in the leafy pathways of the dim green woods would pass on smiling at the remembrance of her merry chatter and her tricksy humor.

It was an evil day for Echo when she crossed the path of Hera, queen of the gods.