The Fourth Labor – Subduing the Erymanthian
Boar
(revised version, spring 2016)
The
fourth labor was to capture the enormous and ferocious Erymanthian Boar, a huge
creature that was goring people and ripping up their farms. On the way, Hercules
passed through the realm of the centaurs, half horse, half men, who were known
to be carousers and fighters, not to mention sexually voracious. One centaur,
however, Chiron, was wise and a model of decorum. Hercules went to him to ask
advice, and Chiron advised him to drive the boar into deep, fresh snow, which
would make him easy to catch.
Heading
out to retrieve the boar, Hercules stopped off to visit a centaur friend of
his, who ate meat raw. He convinced the centaur to open a jar that Dionysius
had given him, filled with some very potent sacred wine. The smell of it drew a
crowd of centaurs, who became drunk and rowdy and attacked Hercules. A fight
ensued where Hercules drove the centaurs off with his poisoned arrows, killing
many. He then went to the forest and drove the boar up into the snow, tiring
him out. He caught the boar in his net, bound it tightly with rope so it could
no longer injure him, and carried it to Eurystheus.
Of
all the labors, this might be the easiest for us to discern the meaning. The
boar epitomizes selfish indulgence; even today we call people pigs who rut
around in intemperate desires. Pigs are considered greedy and self-indulgent. If
you hog things to yourself, you are being piggish. If you insist on things
going your way, you are being pig headed. And so on.
Pretty
much every psychological self-development program preaches overcoming our
animal instincts to rest in a peaceful, balanced state of mind. We don’t think
clearly when we are driven by ravening desires. Yet, as is often noted, our
vitality is not to be simply suppressed, because if it is we wind up wrestling
with it full time. In the interests of doing away with it directly we magnify
it to the point it becomes an all-consuming attraction, so it has to be tamed
and sublimated with sagacity. To achieve spiritual health we must redirect our
energy from insatiable carnal appetites to the higher erotics of love of the sublime.
Therefore Hercules does not kill the boar, despite its having devastated the
forest where it lives, but catches it alive and binds it. He uses his net,
symbolic of mental intelligence, to subdue his animal urges. This is by no
means a simple achievement, and it takes him a long while of diligent tracking
before he will be able to bring the net into play.
Hercules
is easily diverted from his task at first by his association with the rowdy
centaurs. In case we need one, this is a hint as to the meaning of the quest.
The cave he parties with them in is not unlike the seedy bars of our time. Or
think the Mos Eisley Cantina in the Star Wars movies. Just as the situation
threatens to ensnare him permanently, making him an addict and fellow cave
dweller, he escapes by firing off his poisoned arrows at the advocates of
indulgence. The poison represents the intelligent lessons he has learned during
previous encounters, and arrows themselves indicate focused intent. The use of
extreme directed force is often a necessary first step to break free of the
lures of addictive pleasures.
After
leaving the centaurs, Hercules traveled to the devastated forest and drove the
boar of indulgence rooting there out into the snow. When we want something very
badly we get hot for it. If we are too hot, we make mistakes and can do a lot
of damage, ruining the “forest” of our personal environment. In order to master
our selfish feelings, we have to cool them down first, after which we can
restrain them so they can no longer do us any harm. Driving the boar into the
snow tells us to cool down our excessive passion in order to be at our best.
Addiction,
both personal and collective, lays waste to our beautiful environment. We all
have experienced how addicted friends can wreak havoc on everyone around them;
likewise the addiction of modern society to unsustainable growth and rapacious
consumption is destroying the entire planet. To stop the damage, we must
somehow temper our burning passions and regain our cool, our equipoise. We say
“cool it” when someone is over-agitated. “Chill out.” Pristine, new-fallen snow
is virginal, unsullied, and cold. The boar of rampaging desire is indeed
insatiable, but when it is redirected into the peace of cool wisdom gently
falling from the heavens, its madness dissipates and it calms down. As Dr. Mees
puts it, “The field of snow illustrates that there is nothing like a cold bath
or cold counsel to put down libidinous excitement, in all fields of life in
which it may manifest itself.” Hercules diligently driving the boar into the
snow teaches us that a measure of firm intention is involved with effecting the
cure.
When
the boar of unrestrained passion has become tame, it can be snared in the net
of intelligence, making it fit to lay at the guru’s feet as an offering. A true
offering is one that has been won through valiant struggle, not something that
has been offhandedly purchased at the market. The net symbolizes the mind, the
loom of consciousness. Using it in the capture means that intelligence must be
brought to boar, er, bear. Hercules wisely binds the boar tightly so that it
cannot escape and begin another spree. Since we can’t fully trust ourselves
regarding our desires, they must be trussed, lest they break out and gore us
again.
No
matter how you go about it, taming our animal instincts is truly a Herculean
task.
