On Icarus

I've been thinking about Icarus lately, ever since I stumbled across this amazing painting by Bryan Larsen.  It's not complete (you can see the outline of Icarus' right wing and the beginnings of a set of steps at the bottom), but I kind of like it this way.  It's as if he's stepping out of the vague scratchings of myth into the fleshiness of reality.

Photo Credit: Bryan LarsenTo me, the painting tells a story.  It speaks of power mixed with humility.  It speaks of gathering courage and strength before taking flight.  It speaks of baring one's soul.

If you don't remember the story of Icarus, it goes something like this:  Icarus' father, Daedalus is a master craftsman.  He designs two sets of wings made out of feathers and wax so that he and his son can fly away from the island of Crete.  When he hands Icarus his set of wings, he warns him not to fly too high or the sun will melt the wax that holds his wings together.  Icarus nods and smiles, but ultimately ignores the advice.  He is too proud to skim across the sea.  He rises up and up and eventually (surprise, surprise), the sun melts the wax and he plunges into the sea, where he drowns.

I think of this story and I wonder what Ovid and the other ancient Greek storytellers were trying to say.  Don't fly too high?  Don't let your pride get the best of you?  Don't aim for things beyond your reach?

Although I understand that hubris can be a detriment to a person's success, I disagree with the main message of the story.  Why not fly too high?  Why not reach for the sun?  Why hold yourself back and skim along the sea?

If you it's your dream to fly to the sun, you should do it.  All you need to do is build a better set of wings.