“Let me warn you, Icarus, to take the middle way, in case the moisture weighs down your wings, if you fly too low, or if you go too high, the sun scorches them. Travel between the extremes. And I order you not to aim towards Bootes, the Herdsman, or Helice, the Great Bear, or towards the drawn sword of Orion: take the course I show you!”
Ovid, VIII.183-235
I’m sure you’ve all heard of The Age of Aquarius - that supposed epoch of free love, peace and tranquility that is either currently upon us or soon approaching (astrologers can’t seem to agree which one it is). As it goes, humanity is supposed to enter a new, higher level of consciousness and finally awaken to the understanding that we are all one. As I look at the world around me, I see no such evidence.
In fact, in most cases I see the opposite: division, slander, recklessness, lust, vanity. All those things us Aquarians should be slowly phasing out of, at the very least. No, this is not the Age of Aquarius at all…
Welcome, my friends, to the Age of Icarus.
For those of you who don’t know, here’s a quick synopsis of the Icarus myth (from Wikipedia):
In Greek mythology, Icarus was the son of the master craftsman Daedalus, the architect of the labyrinth of Crete. After Theseus, king of Athens and enemy of Minos, escaped from the labyrinth, King Minos suspected that Icarus and Daedalus had revealed the labyrinth's secrets and imprisoned them—either in a large tower overlooking the ocean or the labyrinth itself, depending upon the account. Icarus and Daedalus escaped using wings Daedalus constructed from feathers, threads from blankets, clothes, and beeswax. Daedalus warned Icarus first of complacency and then of hubris, instructing him to fly neither too low nor too high, lest the sea's dampness clog his wings or the sun's heat melt them. Icarus ignored Daedalus’s instructions not to fly too close to the sun, causing the beeswax in his wings to melt. Icarus fell from the sky, plunged into the sea, and drowned. The myth gave rise to the idiom, "fly too close to the sun."
Like Icarus, we have been given our “waxen wings” to escape isolation. In our modern world, these just take the form of little digital screens we keep in our pockets. We have never been more connected, never had so much knowledge and power at our beckoning call. Yet, by most accounts that I can see, we’re just as miserable (if not exponentially more) than we’ve ever been. Something’s not quite right.
If I sit here and bemoan the ways of others, I do nothing but continue the path of separation. Sure, there’s plenty to complain about in the world today - there’s plenty of “others” to blame - but that’s not the route I want to take. The best evidence I have is in fact myself. I’m living in the Age of Icarus…and I’m its biggest culprit.
As I grow more and more along the spiritual path, I realize how deeply I am entrenched in this modern world. It’s difficult to sit alone with myself for more than a few minutes, and it’s gotten to the point where I can feel that resistance in my mind. It craves distraction, dissociation, and pleasure - all day, every day.
Bored? Let’s scroll through hundreds of memes for a few hours.
Lonely? Let’s post something online to get attention.
Horny? Let’s find some porn and numb out for awhile.
My ancestors would have considered the power I have from this device in my hands almost god-like, yet this is how I use it? Everything’s centered around me. I want to be free of discomfort, I want to feel pleasure, I want attention. The power I hold in my hands could help an unimaginable amount of people, yet all I do is use it to serve myself. Like Icarus, my crime is one of hubris. Like Icarus, I fly too close to the sun just because I can.
I’m sure you can relate to what I’m saying. Out of this pride comes that feeling of wanting one more. “If I just have one more little hit of dopamine, I’ll be okay.” One leads to two, two to three, three to oblivion. It never ends, and I constantly feel like I’m flailing, falling, drowning. Again, eerily similar to Icarus’ demise. I know this thing - this desire for one more - is just like sun. The closer I get and the more I want, the more it burns. Yet I continually find myself inching closer and closer to it. Funny thing is I already know what’s on the other side - despair, insanity, and spiritual death.
So, what can I do? I’d be lying if I told you that anything I’ve ever tried worked. I see people every day on the internet claiming all of their great accomplishments - the dopamine detoxers, the porn conquerers, those who’ve got it all “figured out”. Either I’m too far gone to be saved, or these gurus have secrets and closets full of skeletons. I’m old enough now to understand that anyone who boasts of their accomplishments is compensating for some (usually extreme) lack. I will not find the answer to my problem in any man or woman.
This, my friends, is the reason for this project. If man can’t help me, perhaps something greater can - and perhaps it’s not as far away as it seems…
Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever. -
1 John 2: 15-17
My soul is sick with hubris and desire, and no matter how much I try to justify them with worldly consolations, i.e. “I’m only human,” “I have sexual needs,” “I deserve a little ‘me’ time,” I find myself unable to break from the awareness that something is wrong with this. I can’t help shake the thought that I wasn’t made to live my life in distraction and comfort. I can’t help shake the thought that I wasn’t made to live my life for myself.
The funny thing is, this hubris and this desire both contributed to my avoidance of Christianity in the last few years. I was “too smart” to believe in “fairy tales” and too driven by my desires to entertain the idea of giving them up. Without these, however, my resistance has broken down and I’m finally understanding a word I claimed to have understood but never quite did: humility.
I’ve flown too close to the sun and my wings have been burned. I’m falling, heading towards sea - towards death. Before I reach the water and drown, I feel something - someone - has caught me. I now know what was meant by that verse in Timothy:
“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners”—and I am the worst of them all.
Let’s end today with a prayer to overcome pride:
Almighty God I come to you, God, before your throne of love and mercy, asking for your help in gaining enough respect for you. Please help me to avoid letting pride to be my undoing.
Your word says Hezekiah and the people of Jerusalem repented of their heart’s pride, so your anger did not descend on them throughout Hezekiah’s reign. Thank you for being patient with me when I confess my heart’s pride.
The wicked, according to your word, do not seek you in their pride; you have no place in his thoughts. God, please help me to keep you at the forefront of my mind at all times. Allowing myself to be proud will keep me from seeking you.
You claimed that fearing the Lord includes despising evil; you abhor arrogance and pride, crooked conduct, and twisted words. Help me create a healthy fear of you that will reduce ego and conceit.
My loving Father, you have told me that pride leads to shame, while humility leads to insight. Your word tells me, Lord God, that pride precedes ruin and a haughty mind before a fall.
Father, please enable me to see that my pride is causing me harm and help me to truly repent of this sin.
In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.