“Venenum in auro bibitur,” “poison is drunk from a golden cup,” one of the most captivating and contemplatively engaging latin proverbs.
If read once, it passes as is: that appearances are deceptive, and the things that tend to hurt us the most have an irresistible appeal.
If read twice, it excites a sense of incompleteness: this can’t be just it!
If read thrice, one finds themself lured into the depth of its intricacies: one feels as though it has penetrated their mind and spirit, and took hold of their contemplation.
Put simply, this proverb has unquestionably earned its position in the ranks of life-guiding categorical philosophies on self-reflection.
The inquisitive mind is unsatisfied with the results rendered by the first reading, and sets itself upon the charge of tackling the second and third readings.
It thus begins to wonder what to make of ‘poison’ and ‘the golden cup’.
Poison is a form of intoxication, usually a life threatening one. The metaphorical application of which insinuates corruption, deception, mischief, and pain, torment and ultimately death, at emotional, cognitive, and physical levels. Above all else, however, it is a bondage—whether self-imposed or coerced by means of external forces.
The golden cup—given that gold is a valuable shining metal—proffers an appeal is in play. Appeals could either be inherent or bestowed. For attraction, per se, entertains a duality of direction: it might emanate from the object that another is being attracted to (pulled attraction)—in which case it indicates an inherent appeal; or, it might be purposively conferred upon an object by another (pushed attraction)—thus, an appeal has been bestowed.
Lest one becomes enmeshed within the bounds of the first reading, and aimlessly go about in empty circles, the dialectic must proceed hereafter upon the following premises: first, that poison is a bondage; and, second, that the appeal in play—the figurative application of the golden cup—is bestowed in contrast to being inherent.
A person gives in to an addiction. Whether that addiction is for a narcotic substance (cocaine, etc.); a sentiment (love or hatred, peace or wrath, felicity or grief, or depression, etc.); or, a physical encounter (vigor or feebleness, pleasure or pain, etc.); the result is ultimately the same—a bondage is imposed. Insofar one’s volition is engaged, bondages are self-imposed.
In this instant, addiction is the poison. Now some might be provoked to demur as to the categorization of love, peace, and felicity, vigor and pleasure as sorts of poison. Granted, all of these are recognizable attributes of ‘the good’. Notwithstanding, infinite possibilities do exist where unconditional love is returned with incommensurate love or, even worse, hatred; peace with wrath or war; felicity of one on the account of another’s grief or misery; and vigor leading to destructive behavior; even that pleasure could produce pain to one’s self or another person. Once they exceed their moderate range, they all depart from ‘the good’ and become forms of toxic addictions (i.e. poisons). Thereon, the reference made herein is not to their manifestation in a state of temperance, rather their unfettered cultivation and indulgence.
The question is thus: how do they establish a bondage?
Consider an addictive form of love. And, for the sake of argument, let that be a romance. People in relationships are ‘normally’ in love. Nevertheless, relationships in rerum natura are impermanent—or, least ways, alterable. Ideally, their durability directly corresponds to the endurance of mutual love—not vice versa, however. Relationships could be well over, while either or both parties remain deeply in love with their partner.
Love turns into a toxin (poison) when it is vastly asymmetrical—or, under extreme circumstances, one-sided. The poison, subsequently, takes its toll and imposes its strictures, provided it has secured the induction of an illusory continuity, or perpetuity, pertaining to the mutuality of love—usually via compressing the entire relationship to fit into the expanse of space, time, and dimension, that a particular a-posteriori moment of romantic euphoria holds in one’s memory; which consequently inhibits one’s ability to realize that this love has become either exploitive and depletive or utterly one-sided; hence, it further invokes them to deny that the relationship has ran its course. As such, one suffers the bondage of a once (could be also—rarely though— never) was, has gone, or now illusory love—that is, the person being shackled down to ‘their’ non-existing relationship. In fine, one yields to their self-imposed (since it was according to their own volition that their mind excited and nurtured that thought or emotion) bondage.
With respect to the golden cup, the conjecture that the poison is a self-imposed bondage fundamentally dismisses that the appeal is inherent—else, we revert to the first reading—; which then leaves us with it being bestowed upon the object as the sole potentiality.
As a matter of fact, the poison is the pottery wheel in which the cup is molded. The latter’s raison d’être, so to speak, is derived from the former. The intoxication incites a person to fantasize an appeal that would encourage further consumption of the toxin, and constitute a defensive mechanism against any attempts to break from the bondage. In fine, a person would ’sugarcoat’ the poison to guarantee its clear passage (more like smuggling) through their own walls of reason—a purposively bestowed appeal. Back to our earlier example of toxic love. One goes through old photos, starts to reminisce the moments captured in them, and manipulate oneself to imagine them happening at the moment of reminiscence. Inevitably, one remains enchanted, poisoned.
A logical yet unconventional interpretation of “venenum in auro bibitur,” therefore, stands to refer to our self-imposed [with emphasis] bondages (poison) and the illusions (golden cup) we construct and set in place to defend the former against our own reason and better judgment. In fine, both poison and cup are products of our OWN contrivance.
