Obsession Over a Myth with Such Possiblities for Interpretation....

Although in Hesiod's "Works and Days", these actual evils are not specified by name, except for Hope (or actually Hopelessness, to be exact)

"But the woman took off the great lid of the jar with her hands and scattered, all these and her thought caused sorrow and mischief to men. Only Hope remained there in an unbreakable home within under the rim of the great jar, and did not fly out at the door; for ere that, the lid of the jar stopped her, by the will of Aegis-holding Zeus who gathers the clouds. But the rest, countless plagues, wander amongst men; for earth is full of evils, and the sea is full. Of themselves diseases come upon men continually by day and by night, bringing mischief to mortals silently; for wise Zeus took away speech from them."

stories of the distant past
stories of the not so distant past
ponderings of politics
ponderings of parenthood
ponderings of friendships
ponderings of relationships....

ponderings before the split second you think of yourself as you want to be and what you really are. The feeling you have when you look in the mirror. Before the defenses. They race, you know. To see who gets there first. The vulnerable and the bravado. They fight and cloud your true vision of the truth and the fair, if in fact, "fair" actually exsists in this world.

WHY THE HELL THIS WOMAN WOULD COME TO ME TONIGHT I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND.

My muse is not always angry or suspect. She is always bearing a gift in her arms. Whether it is a dying preying mantis or some erotic imaginings of a sexual soul. But tonight, she brought me this entire woman. She laid her before me and said, "She has no answers for you. She is a myth. A story. Worn and weaved into the very fabric of our lives from the beginning of time. Not "our" time but of all time.
She has been said to be the reincarnation/epitome of Eve. However, excuse me "muse" but I don't believe Eve was the beginning of all evil. So I will not go there. It feels as if there is something else in this gift you gave me tonight.

Time and attention will tell. I hope I don't miss the mark in the lesson you have brought me. I feel there are arcs and angles I am to find that will edit my surface conclusion of this woman, of this lesson carefully hidden inside a myth which will guide me to the stories I can feel banging at the wooden box. Screaming, crying and some just crossly objecting to not being heard. Some sitting in the corner afraid to have to be heard at all.