ARCHETYPE
of
THE LOVER
and
HER 3 FACES
of
THE LOVER
and
HER 3 FACES
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At Full Moon I am the Lover within you. I am the source of your romantic desire, your hunger for intimate contact with another. Through your body, I bring you the thrill of Eros. I am revered and feared as the epitome of sexual magnetism. My loins throb with the pulse of ardent rapture. My eyes shed the tears of lost loves.
My glorious moon-phase illuminates the night for all lovers, and brings sexual power to its full evocative magic. It marks a moment when energies are aroused in howling wolves and “lunatics” of all species, and when the Fairy Folk come out to enchant mortals. Thus, men grow wary and fearful at my intense mystery. Yet, none can resist my charms.
At Midsummer, the sabat of Summer Solstice brings in my season of romantic ecstacy and creative play. Now I am the Beauty Queen, admired and adored from afar. I am the Charming Sweetheart, held near and dear and pure. And I am the Vamp Temptress, tantalizing, wickedly wanton.
Do you remember your first crush? Your first date? Your first kiss? I was there with you each time, kindling the flame of desire and heightening your passion. Throughout all the seasons of our lives, the Lover rules the powers of romantic desire and erotic attraction.
The Lover is the part of us for whom the poems are composed and the songs are sung. She is the mystique of beauty and the object of desire. She holds our heart in her hands and thrums its beat at the center of our soul. She wields powers of attraction, affection, and attachment that can sear our soul. Even so, she strengthens our hearts through an alchemy of suffering as we learn that romantic love thrives on tragedy.
The Beauty Queen stands magnificent and proud within every woman’s soul, commanding attention, demanding respect, eliciting admiration. She is that part in us that knows we are beautiful, regardless how society may judge our looks or others fail to take us in with their gaze. As the subject of endless poems, songs, artwork, and dreams, beauty remains ever elusive, always subjective, ever contained only in the eye or mind of its beholder. Yet, for those with all senses attuned, nothing can be absolutely ugly, for something beautiful resides within the heart of all things.
Three great narcissistic Beauties once vied for the prize of a golden apple, awarded by one conceited prince, named Paris. In this painting we observe them in a modern parody of the Original Beauty Pageant. Goddesses, Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena, each attends, dressed in finery characteristic of her nature. In this elegant promenade, each goddess is accompanied by her representative bird: Aphrodite’s love-doves nest in her luxurious tresses. Hera’s peacock preens, draped across her stately shoulder. And Athena’s wise little owl watches serenely, perched upon her sturdy hand. The owl still stands for Athena’s artifice, the peacock for Hera’s pride, and the doves for Aphrodite’s sexual desire. Paris awarded the apple to Aphrodite.
Some men still choose sexual conquest over political or martial fame. But, beauty, like sexual attraction, is ever dangerous, ever capricious, and rarely lasting as first judged.
Invocation to the Beauty Queen:
Help me believe in my own beauty and wear it with grace. Let me learn
that how attractive I appear is a measure of how good I let myself
feel. Help me avoid vanity, but grow in self-appreciation.
Clinging to illusions of promised happiness, gazing after phantoms of a wistful paradise, the Sweetheart beckons us to follow her blindly into affairs of the heart. Romance catches us in a timeless moment. Falling into Eros’ thrall, we willingly forego all past memories and future possibilities for the pleasure of love’s fleeting instant. For a space of time we regress-- we delight in the power of wishes, dreams, and miracles. We fall in love with the illusions of Love.
Here are the ephemeral Sweethearts of mythology-- Psyche and Eros-- in the eternal embrace of enchanted captivation. In the painting, he appears in the form of a divine butterfly, accompanied by an entourage of Psyche’s own spirit-manifestations. But might his antennae, pointed ears, and non-human coloring suggest that this divinity, while handsome, is in some way beastly, critterly-- dare we say it?-- buggy? (Certainly lovers can appear rather so.) But, their fanciful, playful mood belies a tragic fate. These lovers, floating so buoyantly above the weight of the world, flitting carelessly among dream spirits, seem oblivious to future downfalls.
Once upon a time, when this tale was born, lovers lived forever by dying in each other’s arms. Therein lies the source of comic tragedy in romantic love, for lovers long to go together into the heavenly ethers, never to come back down to earth and face humble, mundane realities.
Invocation to the Sweetheart:
Help me to find the romance I desire in my life. Let me see it when
it arrives, and not be blinded by foolish, unrealistic notions of
“perfect” love. Help me open my heart to the pains, as well as the
pleasures, of romance.
The Vamp dares dance (and sleep) with the dangerous man, the villain, the potential killer. She does so partly for the thrill of taming his brute nature. But she does so ultimately to gain advantage over him, to deflect his offensive ambitions. By seducing him, she disarms his weapon, renders him vulnerable in his own lair, caught in his own trap.
The Vamp is a darkly savvy sexual woman. The Lover, as Vamp, is a brash, cold aspect of female sexual magnetism. Her more genteel title is the Femme Fatale-- the deadly woman who sometimes leads men to their ruin.
This modern dancing vixen is ancestress to many a famous Vamp in myth and history: Delilah, Salome, Judith, Esther, and Tamar from biblical tales; Cleopatra, Brynhilde, Mata Hari, and the Cat Woman, from secular legends. Always, we find the Vamp’s stories reveal her heroic courage, although her name becomes defiled by history.
In the painting, Beauty dances with the Beast. He is the Horned God of Celtic myth, who will first be worshipped for his fertile manhood, and then slain to preserve and anoint his progeny. She dances with him, both to honor his crowning and to betray his demise. But the Horned God is a willing victim, voluntarily entering the Vamp’s venomous chamber to lie in her fierce embrace, knowing that in doing so he writes his own death warrant. It is an ancient and complex ritual we find difficult to comprehend, yet we re-enact it regularly without knowing.
Invocation to the Vamp:
Help me dare to use my charms for the good of my higher purpose.
Let me understand that seduction is a double-edged instrument for
good or evil; that I can employ it for, or against, my best
interests. Help me overcome my fear of my own seductive power.