O P I N I O N

NOT THAT PROFOUND

by Nathan Graziano

As a boy, I watched Desmond Davis’ 1981 film “Clash of the Titans” on HBO, long before I read any Greek mythology. The film lingered with me, not as a budding mythology buff, but as a highly anxious mortal, terrified by the world.

And Medusa terrified me the most.

For those who might not be familiar with the myth, Medusa was a Gorgon—the only mortal of the three Gorgon sisters—who was often depicted as a beautiful maiden before being raped in the temple to Athena by Poseidon.

In a historic example of victim-blaming, Athena then curses Medusa with hair made of live snakes and an appearance[1] so hideous that merely looking at her would turn a man into stone.

In the film, Perseus, a hero and a monster slayer[2], decapitates Medusa in her sleep and proceeds to use her severed head to turn the Kraken into stone and save the beautiful Andromeda[3] .

After watching the movie, which I probably should not have been watching at that age,[4] I became irrationally terrified by the idea of looking at something then turning into stone.

My anxiety surrounding the idea of being turned to stone kept me awake at night.

What if I accidentally met eyes with Medusa in a supermarket or a department store, unintentionally? Pow. That’s it for me. I’m stoned[5]. Correction: I’m turned into stone.

To this day, I’m woefully bad at making eye contact with others.

In the past week, as New Hampshire prepares for an influx of tourists on April 8 to view the full solar eclipse[6], my anxiety surrounding the myth of Medusa has returned, only now, instead of being turned into stone, I’m irrationally terrified that I’m going to look up at the eclipse on Monday afternoon and blind myself for the rest of my mortal life.

Before anyone feels the need to correct my specious science here, I’m fully aware that my fear of this eclipse is almost entirely irrational. In the same way that driving on the highway or having to order first at a restaurant scares me, I know there is little-to-no logical foundation for this fear.

Still, I am terrified; an anxious mess.

While most people will either purchase protective eyewear—although beware of scammers—and view this unique aberration of the natural world on Monday afternoon, and others will simply smoke a joint while listening to Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon,” I will likely be sedated in my basement, far away from any window.

You see, after 48 years on this planet, I know a little something about myself, and I know that I’m particularly susceptible to rash and impulsive behaviors.

For example, I might impulsively decide to stay for “just one beer” when I have a full docket of things to do for work, or I might impulsively decide to play a four-leg parlay on the day the mortgage is due. I also might impulsively decide to take a long, naked-eyed gander at the sun at the peak of the eclipse.

Only instead of being unemployed or kicked out of the house, I’ll be freaking blind! I simply don’t trust myself to control my own impulses in this case. It’s like telling a child to not touch the hot stove.

Luckily, I have plenty of sedatives to assure that I will peacefully nap in the basement from 3-5 p.m. And if I happen to run upstairs and stare at the sun while the moon is blocking it, burning my retinas and blinding myself, this will be my final column as a sighted writer[7].

And if that turns out to be the case then…well, I told you so.

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[1] Some versions some of the myth vary in some of these details. This account is often attributed to Ovid, which would involve the Roman gods, Neptune (Poseidon) and Minerva (Athena) instead.

[2] He is the ancient Greek version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

[3] Again different versions of the myth include slightly different details, but it’s not my job to make sense of this murkiness. It’s my job to explain why I’m afraid of the eclipse.

[4] Thanks, Mom and Dad.

[5] That’s a Freudian slip.

[6] This is the last full solar eclipse in New Hampshire until 2079, at which point, I will be worm food.

[7] If this happens, I am changing the name of this column to “Musings with Oedipus.”