Medusa's Gaze: Confronting our rage and unearthing burried beauty

Many of us have heard the myth of Medusa turning anyone who looked at her to stone.

Well, like fairytales, myths describe unconscious psychic processes. They are not merely stories, but mirrors—holding up truths we carry in our cells. Medusa is not just a monster. She is a wounded priestess. She is rage embodied. She is buried beauty that terrifies because it cannot be controlled. And what happens when the western world cannot sit with and admire beauty? It tries to control it--or crush it.

Medusa’s beauty was once said to rival that of the gods. She was radiant, human, sacred. 

But after being violated in Athena’s temple, she wasn't protected. She was punished. And transformed. 

Her pain, her power, her unprocessed grief—became petrifying to look at. The beauty that once invited us in and down was now feared. We fear what has survived the fire. We fear the woman who does not look away.

I saw a Story with Maya Angelou earlier saying not to get bitter (because that can be like a cancer that eats away at you and doesn't actually do anything to the other). But, she says, don't lose track of your anger. Use it for meaningful action!

To gaze at Medusa is to meet the part of ourselves we’ve turned to stone. The frozen rage. The grief with no words. The beauty we've buried under shame. But if we look with soul-eyes, not to conquer, not to dissect—but to witness—something remarkable happens. She softens. The stones begin to break open. And the beauty that once felt dangerous becomes liberating. Sacred. Necessary.

Medusa does not ask to be rescued. She asks to be seen.