Nympho­ma­nia and the charm of the hidden

The image of the nymphe

The beauty, charm and allure of the hidden have fasci­nated us in culture, art, and tradi­tions since time immemo­r­ial. This attrac­tion, which in ancient beliefs was and is a varia­tion of the gods, or rather goddesses and nature spirits, also leads us to the term “nympho­ma­nia,” which is still very well known today.

Nymphomania—a word that carries its mysti­cal origins within it. An expres­sion of unbri­dled desire and strong erotic attrac­tion, it derives from the ancient goddesses of nature, the nymphs, who gave it its name.

Nymphs, compan­ions of the Olympic gods we know, of exquis­ite beauty and yet so close to humans. They are charac­ter­ized by their quiet­ness, even though dancing, singing, and ensnar­ing mortals and immor­tals is their daily work.

The symbol­ism of nymphs is multi­fac­eted. It partic­u­larly encom­passes the areas of fertil­ity and sexual­ity. For example, Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita” coined the term “nymph” to describe a type of preco­cious girl whom the protag­o­nist finds sexually attractive.

In some cultures, the word “nymph” is also used to refer to symbols of female genitalia such as lotus blossoms, white water lilies, and certain snails. However, one should not fall in love with a water nymph. She loves to flirt passion­ately and rarely means it seriously. Broken hearts adorn her nearly 10,000-year-long life. An echo of this has been preserved in the popular belief in mermaids, namely their destruc­tive tendency to drag their lovers down into the watery depths:

“Suddenly, the water lilies in the quiet pond began to tremble. The water rippled and gently lapped against the wall. The lizard scurried away. Bormus stared into the water, capti­vated by the magic that suddenly enveloped the place. Amidst the water lilies, a female creature appeared, infinitely seduc­tive and infinitely myste­ri­ous. Her skin was lighter than the petals; her eyes shimmered green like the foliage. Dark hair entwined with garlands of leaves flowed over her damp, shiny shoul­ders into the water. She raised a hand, and Bormus leaned toward her. But then he hesitated and backed away.

The woman smiled dream­ily, shook her head, and waved, and the young man’s eyes darkened with desire. He stretched out his arms.

The moment his finger­tips touched the water, the woman grabbed his wrist with an iron grip. Sharp little nails dug into his flesh, and her slender arm pulled Bormus relent­lessly into the water, down into the world beneath the earth, where the water spirits still ruled and humans could not breathe.

Verza­uberte Welten, Wassergeister

Unfor­tu­nately, however, many associate male infat­u­a­tion, or nympho­ma­nia, with charac­ter­is­tics that are hardly or not at all reflected in this word. Just as Rembrandt shows us a much more subtle, almost shy, yet passion­ate scene in Diana’s Bath, flirt­ing and dancing with a nymph is also an exuber­ant game that begins slowly with small waves and only breaks over the dancers like a roaring wave towards the end.