It used to be that we, as humans, were born, lived and died embedded in an amniotic sac of stories. These stories gave meaning to existence and carried the wisdom of countless generations to guide us through dark and difficult times. With the shift from communal to individualistic values, we've lost this sacred collective container. But I believe we can, each of us, set about the work of re-storying ourselves. Curating our own idiosyncratic anthology of myths, legends and fairy tales to act as soul medicine in times of suffering.

As I write this, more than 130 precious children are being killed every day by bombs, bullets, starvation and dehydration. A rate that far outpaces any other conflict in recent memory. These horrors continue largely unchecked while many world "leaders" stand by and watch, or worse, actively try to justify the unjustifiable.

How are we to make sense of a world in which something like this is possible? What are we meant to do with all this rage and grief and despair?

I found great solace in this recent episode of the Living Myth podcast by storyteller extraordinaire Michael Meade. He turns to the Greek myths of the Furies, those "primordial spirits of vengeance and retribution that rise from the Underworld when people violate the rules of nature, when innocent blood is wrongfully spilled on the earth, and when age-old feuds are provoked." The Furies torment humans, driving them mad, and making the land toxic and unliveable. For Meade, these myths "remain important because they depict the transformation of a society rooted in blood feuds and endless revenge into one shaped by a deeper sense of justice aimed at balance and peace rather than retribution." They show us that the shift from war and oppression to peace and justice is possible.

The Furies feature prominently in the story of Orestes, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. Agamemnon kills his daughter (Orestes' sister) to appease the gods and obtain an auspicious start the Trojan War. Upon Agamemnon's return from the war, Clytemnestra kills her husband out of revenge for their daughter's death. Orestes, deeply torn, ultimately murders his mother to avenge his father.

Then the Furies rise from the Underworld and pursue him relentlessly across the earth. Eventually, he seeks refuge from Athena, goddess of war and wisdom. Athena must use all the arts of persuasion to convince the Furies to pause their punishment and let Orestes be judged by a jury of his peers.

When the 12-person jury becomes split as to Orestes' guilt, Athena casts the deciding vote. She rules in favour of acquittal. It's the only way to break the cycle and open up new possibilities. The only path to build a world beyond that governed by the brutality of the Furies, where one act of vengeance begets another and another throughout generations.

So what did Athena do with the Furies?

Did she destroy them? No.

Did she punish them? No.

Did she exile them? No.

Instead, she did something radical. She gave them a place in her temple.

She assigned them a new role as protectors of the innocent and sustainers of justice. She transformed the raw rage of the Furies and channeled it into something noble. To mark this transformation the three Furies gained new names. No longer Alecto (anger), Megaera (jealous rage), and Tisiphone (vengeful retaliation), they became the Eumenides, the Kindly Ones.

This myth acts as a treasure map of sorts, helping us to find a deeper sense of self and a connection to the sacredness of life. An identification with all of humanity that transcends tribal feuds. Moore observes that the fact that the human jury can't decide Orestes' fate shows that we must access something deeper than logic or reason or emotion to break the deadlock. We must access the deeper wisdom of Athena "that brings a kind of of healing and forgiveness that alone can ease the hearts of victims, while also opening the hearts of perpetrators of violence to the possibilities of healing and finding their own path to forgiveness."

I always thought it was strange that Athena was the goddess of war as well as wisdom. But in these tragic times it has become glaringly clear to me that it is in wartime that we most desperately need to draw on the deep well of wisdom. For it is only wisdom that can contain the primal destructive rage of the Furies that stirs in us when we witness the suffering of innocents.

I'm incredibly inspired by those who are family of the hostages, or who were hostages themselves, who are holding on to their own humanity by holding onto the humanity of those on the other side. Truly they are showing us all how to tap into the wisdom of Athena and transform the Furies from blood thirsty demons to fierce protectors of innocent life.

For me, I am letting this myth do its work on my psyche. I am cultivating a deeper awareness of when the Furies arise within me and committing to an ongoing practice of repurposing that energy so it is only expressed in the service of shared humanity with a sense of the sacredness of life. May it be so.