Apollo & Daphne: She's Just Not That Into You

Barking up the wrong tree, dude.

You guys, Apollo is an absolute MESS in this story.

There are several versions of it, but I’m going to go with one most of us are familiar with, which is based on Ovid.

So, Apollo—the golden boy, the god of music, poetry, the sun, prophecy, healing, and way too much self-confidence—is feeling himself one day. (No, not like that.) He just killed the giant serpent Python with his godly bow, and he’s riding that victory high.

And then along comes Eros. You know, Cupid—the guy with the love arrows.

Now, Apollo could have just minded his business. But no. Instead, he decides to bully a literal god of love.

Apollo goes, “Hey, kid, why are you playing with arrows? That’s big boy stuff. Maybe leave the weapons to actual gods. Like me.”

And Eros—who is 100% not here for Apollo’s bullshit—goes, “Oh, okay. That’s cute. You know what? Hold this.”

And he shoots TWO arrows:

• One gold-tipped arrow at Apollo, which makes him fall madly in love with the first person he sees.

• One lead-tipped arrow at Daphne, a gorgeous river nymph, which makes her violently repulsed by Apollo.

Guess who Apollo sees first?

Yep.

Now, Daphne is already Not About That Life when it comes to men. She has zero interest in marriage, zero interest in romance. She was basically like Artemis, just chilling in the forest with her girls.

But Apollo is instantly obsessed.

He runs up to her like, “Heyyyy, you’re really pretty, I’m a god, we should totally get togetherrrr!”

And Daphne, who has absolutely no idea that Eros is behind this, just sees a random, overenthusiastic man sprinting toward her declaring love at first sight.

So she does what any sane person would do.

She runs for her life.

And Apollo chases her. Full sprint. Speed of sunlight. Olympic gold-medal pursuit.

He’s all: “Hey, wait, I’m not some weirdo horny shepherd dude, I’m the son of Zeus! I’m the god of music and prophecy and medicine and I write poetry, what’s your sign?!” (Ovid gives him a whole speech like this. It’s a lot.)

Meanwhile, Daphne is pleading with the gods, “HELP. HELP. HELP. SOMEONE PLEASE GET THIS MAN AWAY FROM ME.”

And at the very last second, just before Apollo catches her, her father—Peneus (NOT pronounced pee-nis), the river god—goes “I got you girl” and turns her into a tree.

Her arms become branches. Her skin turns to bark. Her hair becomes leaves. Not sure that’s what she was going for when she asked for help, but whatever. Thanks Dad, I hate it.

And Apollo, who was right there, suddenly finds himself embracing a literal tree trunk.

You’d think he’d get the hint.

But no.

He gently strokes the bark and sighs like a tragic Victorian poet, “If you won’t be my wife, then you’ll be my sacred tree. I shall adorn myself with thy locks and carry thy beauty into the world. It shall be the symbol of glory and fame that all shall celebrate.”

Then he takes a few leaves from her and makes them into his signature laurel wreath. Which is bestowed upon winners of the Olympics.

Dude. You literally lost this race so hard. How are you gonna turn her leaves into your crown of victory? This is more like the ultimate participation trophy.

That’s the basic story of Apollo & Daphne.

Like I said, there are multiple versions of it (which you can check out on Theoi). here are some themes and elements that come out in the various stories:

• Daphne was a devotee of Artemis (who was famously chaste), and was a kickass archer.

• She was a Delphic priestess of Apollo, which puts an interesting spin on this myth.

• She was given to Apollo as a prisoner of war.

• She asks her mother (Gaia) for help, not her father.

• Her father wasn’t the river, but actually Tiresias—a blind prophet of Apollo who was transformed into a woman for a while.

• There was this king, Leucippus, who was like “OMG who is that, she is so hot.” And everyone was like “Sorry dude, that’s Daphne. She follows Artemis. No men allowed.” So Leucippus dressed in drag and hung out with Daphne and her girls in the forest, pretending to be a woman. He wormed his way into her trust and soon they were total besties. But it all came crashing down when the girls were bathing at a pool and Leucippus was like “You know what, that’s okay. I don’t really feel dirty.” The girls suspect something’s up, and they rip his girl clothes off to reveal You Know What. When a man intruded on Artemis’s space, she turned him into a stag and had his hunting hounds rip him apart. Daphne didn’t have that kinda mojo. She and her girls just stabbed Leucippus to death.

Most myths don’t really have a single line of events universally recognized as canon. It’s more like we get variations on a central theme.

But what does it all meeaann?

I don’t know.

On one level, it’s just Apollo being a patriarchal misogynist dick. He was like that sometimes—both in the myths and archetypally.

This story reminds me of Downton-Abbey-esque scenarios where the lord’s arrogant son seduces a maid (who tries to avoid him but utimately gives in, either because he’s just so hot and rich, or because he’s blackmailing her). She winds up pregnant and finds herself a single mother without a job or any employment prospects outside of prostitution. Thanks for ruining my life, Mr. Fancy Pants.

But if I put on my Jungian glasses and get thoughtful…

From a Jungian perspective, Apollo represents the rational, organizing principle—the intellect, the Ego, the conscious mind (which is often considered masculine in symbolic systems). He’s all clarity and structure.

Daphne, on the other hand, is wild, instinctual, and aligned with the natural world (especially if we link her with Artemis, Apollo’s twin). She embodies the wild feminine, the intuitive, untamed part of the psyche—the Anima, aka the Soul.

And in this story, we’ve got the intellect chasing down the intuitive. The Ego chasing down the Soul. Trying to possess it.

Ego consciousness has a tendency to be arrogant, as though it has the right to control everything.

Apollo literally mocks Love in this myth.

And I get it. His archetype is famously independent (just like Artemis), and doesn’t really partner up. He doesn’t understand romantic emotion and is rarely touched by it. So I get that Apollo would think he can’t be affected by Love and would mock Love to Love’s face.

But it’s a bad move.

In some places & times throughout the Ancient world, passionate erotic love was thought of like a disease or a curse. And in this myth, we see why: Apollo’s eyes are suddenly opened to beauty, to desire, to the drive for connection and union. He finds himself overwhelmed by something outside the bounds of logic and control. It’s messy. It’s embarrassing. It drives him to act like a fool. It exposes how unbalanced intellect can be when it tries to dominate instinct, beauty, and emotion.

His approach is forceful and unintegrated. He doesn’t court her. He chases.

Apollo, the god of Knowing Things, fails to know her.

Jung might say that the Self refuses to be objectified by the Ego.

Writing this post has changed my opinion on Daphne. I used to see her as a victim. Who wants to be turned into a tree? But now I see her differently. It’s kind of beautiful that Daphne transforms. This wild, soulful force literally roots herself in nature. In quietness. Stillness. Wordless peace.

Now that I think about it, using Daphne’s laurel leaves as crowns of victory is spot on. The Ego can’t own the Soul… but when we excel and express the best parts of ourselves, we manage to bring out a glimpse of our Soul’s beauty.

Maybe this story is warning us that intellect alone can’t understand love. That some parts of us are wild, sacred, and not here for conquest.

Or maybe it’s just a myth about a hot god getting totally wrecked by a tree.

Either way, I love it.

Love,
L.