What is the relation of myth to truth? What is the truth of myth? This question is particularly important since the modern secular notion of "myth" usually means falsehood and fantasy, anything but the truth. In old Greek, the idea of truth (aletheia) supposedly had three root meanings, three ways of understanding the word. First, truth is not pseudo, that is, truth differs from or opposes lies, deceits, and falsities. The second version derives from the word itself, a-letheia, "not Lethe," where Lethe refers to the River of Forgetfulness. Truth includes memoria, an imagination that holds and is enhanced by the past. Truth bears witness not merely to facts, but to the arché within the facts, the resonances of memory that facts (the "bare" facts as we call them) tend to forget and so cannot tell the whole truth. Third, truth is frank, direct, clear, evident perception; seeing things straight, closely corresponding with the actual world of things as they are. Myth speaks truth because it fulfills all three of these supposed meanings of aletheia. Myths tell a "just-so" truth. They depict happenings, including falsehoods and fantasies which form myth's ambiguous complexities. They resonate with ancient implications, the interweavings of plots and characters and locations, worldly and otherworldly, and with extraordinary pathologies and extraordinary miracles. The truth of myth is never single, never simple, never general. Their truth is descriptive, becoming prescriptive only when they are used to argue a fundamental meaning, when myth serves allegory or when called on to validate a preconceived opinion or belief. Such simplifications distort the truth of myth into prescriptive literalisms and moralisms - this is what the myth means; this is the truth it is telling. Any myth, no matter how sacred, how profound, loses its purchase on truth and becomes pseudo once it is simplified to fulfill a truth supposedly more fundamental than the myth itself.
— James Hillman
Hillman is protecting myth from its admirers as much as from its detractors. The secular dismissal — myth as mere fantasy — is actually the lesser danger. The greater one arrives wearing reverence: the interpreter who has decided in advance what the myth means, who uses the story to confirm a truth already held. That move, Hillman insists, converts myth into pseudo — not by lying, but by simplifying the resonance out of it until only the lesson remains.
The etymology he leans on matters. *Alētheia* as not-Lethe means truth is not bare fact stripped of memory, but fact restored to its depth of implication — the *archē* within the event, the ancient interweaving still vibrating inside the present occurrence. A myth read allegorically — *this figure means X, this episode teaches Y* — cuts those threads. It makes myth do what logos does, only less precisely, and in doing so wastes what myth alone can carry: the ambiguity, the extraordinary pathology alongside the extraordinary miracle, the refusal to resolve.
What Hillman is asking you to tolerate, finally, is a kind of not-knowing that doesn't lead anywhere more stable. The myth doesn't bottom out into doctrine. It keeps resonating because it was never pointing at a destination; it was holding the memory of a complexity that facts, by themselves, forget.
James Hillman·Mythic Figures·2007