Love Thyself

To thine own self be true," admonishes " Polonius to his son Laertes

in the first act of Hamlet, and we feel the heavy-handed wisdom of the bard passed down through the ages. Shakespeare whispers advice to his audience, his sagacity passing through Polonius' lips. He tells us "neither a borrower, nor a lender be," listen well, reserve judgment, and hold your good friends closely. But the first admonition, to be true to yourself, is prefaced with an emphatic, "This above all."

In matters of the heart, we must go a step farther. Those in the market for love must not only be true to themselves, but love themselves. That's the premise of contemporary sage Deepak Chopra in his spiritual guide, "The Path to Love."

"The whole futile process of making yourself attractive to others, of constantly waiting for someone else's response, of desperately comparing yourself with an ideal image can come to an end." What, then, replaces the need to measure up to another, less authentic image? Chopra says it is loving yourself. He encourages people to come to terms with the ambiguity of their own natures, both the darkness and the light in each of our souls. You achieve this "not by changing who you are but by seeing who you are and then shining it forth."

Echo and Narcissus, c.1903 - John William Waterhouse (1849 - 1917) Even Cosmo magazine has gotten in on the self-love dogmatic bandwagon. Articles like "Make Him Crave You" and "7 Bad Girl Bedroom Moves You Must Master" have the usual naughty tips you'd expect, but there's an underlying tone that suggests women who love themselves are ultimately better in the bedroom. "After all, there's nothing sexier than a woman who loves her own bod," says one Sex Q&A article.

Perhaps the most poetic example of finding love in others by loving ourselves comes from Oscar Wilde and his rendering of the tale of Narcissus. The son of the blue nymph Liriope and the river god Cephissus, Narcissus was breathtakingly handsome but regularly spurned the advances of all who approached him. This included the nymph Echo, who wasted away to nothing but a voice in the wake of his rejection.

While hunting, Narcissus came upon a pool of water, clear and undisturbed. He knelt to drink and, leaning over the still pond, saw his own striking reflection. Narcissus was instantly captivated and, unable to part from his image, he sank into death on the banks of the pool.

In Wilde's tale, the Oreads - the nymphs of wild, green places, of mountains, valleys, and ravines - came to pay condolences to the reflecting pool into whose depths Narcissus had gazed. Her clear waters had turned to the salt of tears.

"We do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was he," Wilde's woodland nymphs weep.

"But was Narcissus beautiful?" the pool replies.

The Oreads look at one another, uncomprehending. Of course Narcissus was beautiful. Hadn't the pool seen his beauty in all the time he reclined on her banks?

The pool answered, "I mourn for Narcissus not because he was beautiful, but because I saw my own beauty reflected in his eyes."

Contact Artis

Send your dating tips, questions, and disasters to: sandydays@floridaweekly.com