Physical perfection has a dark psychology owing to the dichotomy that something perfect tends to suppress the dragon - the primitive, reptilian source (spine, throat.)
Into the dark psychology go all the clean and sterile advances of modernity - 'clean meat' (prev), GPS calculation, DNA editing. The profane serpent of distorted rhythm.
The basic reason for the distortion is that there are large-scale similarities that go unrecognised. Where there are large-scale similarities, Man is part of the fecund cosmos, and harmonises with it (the UVS website contains comprehensive examples.)
A harmonic cosmos (of song) cannot be physically perfect (of calculation) because obviously harmonics overlap and vibrate in a fantastically subtle sense (water supposedly does this via H-bonds in homeopathy.)
The harmonic universe is fecund- Dr Strange- like - and contains dark elements - but the elements are not suppressed. Gothic medieval is a good enough term. The dark, or what you could call the ogrish, bloody elements are part of reality and make it pretty interesting (incidentally, the anime Attack on Titan has a Gothic medieval sensibility of ogrish giants that swallow humans whole, blood drenching the screen. Probably not surprising since it's by the creators of Death Note).
Where the dragon is not suppressed, of course it can be attacked by the pure knight. The presence of blood and decay are part of the dark reality that modernity suppresses - becoming the profane serpent.
While Relative time leads to physical perfection (information, calculation), invariable time has the darkness of myth and blood (sun and moon or Earthspin). Myth and melancholy and memory give meaning to the harmonic universe. Shoot the Sun Down is for sure melancholy as opposed to meaningless and modern!
To give an extreme example, the dinosaurs were wiped-out by a mighty asteroid hitting the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico. From a mythical perspective, that could be taken as Fortune, that later gave rise to the ancient gods of Mexico (Quetzalcoatl etc.)
I have always believed that all things depend on Fortune, and nothing on ourselves. (Byron)
Whereas modern people are endlessly anxious about "the next hit", harmonic Fortune gives it over to the mythical realm. But this realm only exists in invariable time (of spinning-tops - P200); the era of calculation is also the era of anxiety.
You could say: but how do we know there isn't an asteroid heading this way? The point is, there is a calculated universe, but the universe of myth is the one of belief and faith. You could spend your resources on future anxiety and live in a permanently anxious state.
After all, what is the psyche? It can best be comprehended as a type of harmonics that ties into the cosmos. Yes, the modern era has personalities, but melancholy psyche is much rarer (guys like Cat Stevens, Buffy, Paul Kantner)
Melancholy is just the other side of the coin to freeing the mind from thrall to anxiety - the gaiety of youth ('Guileless beyond hope's imagining' - Byron.) Large-scale similarities - or what you could call harmonic reality - are fecund and speak of rites of spring. Dionysus and the bull.
Trees and bent boughs and limbs intermix in the youthful spring of revival.
Suddenly,as they passed under the spreading branches of a great oak, something descended from above - something long and shining and sinuous - and draped itself over the neck of Petronel before it slipped to the ground. The mare shied and danced on her hind legs..
'What on earth was it?' demanded Nicholas. 'I thought that she would have me off this time.'
Hal extended his right hand, carefully, so as not to alarm the mare again. He was holding a long silver band.
'It's a girdle,' he said. 'A lady's girdle.'
'But where did it come from?' cried Nicholas in astonishment.
Hal lowered his voice. 'There's a maid in the tree'..
'Oh, please,' said a voice from above. 'I didn't mean to do it. I only wanted to peep, and then my girdle came undone.'
It was a girl, a little girl, younger than Nicholas. She was sitting on a cross bough, with her feet dangling and her skirt rumpled all round her.
'Who are you?' asked Nicholas. An idea had come to his mind, but he just couldn't believe it.
'I'm Cecily,' she said simply. 'I wanted to see you before you saw me, and I knew you'd come this way. So I got up into the tree..'
The relief was so tremendous that Nicholas began to laugh. It was not only relief from the fright with Petronela, but also relief from his dread. He had worked himself into a state of misery about meeting his betrothed. And here she was, not a fine lady nor a prim young mistress, nut just a naughty girl up a tree. As he laughed Cecily began to laugh too. Then Hal joined in, and the three of them laughed till they could scarcely stop. (Cynthia Harnett, The Wool-Pack, page 103)
The gaiety and sexuality of living in the wild forest comprise really the myth of psyche, the song of the cosmos. Without the large-scale similarities, one is compressed by calculation in a mini-world that convinces the ego.
The day ends with a late dinner by candelight and congenial conversation with friends over a couple of mugs of mulled wine. While you and the dog enjoy the warmth of the big stone fireplace, you read a few pages of an essay on freedom by Thomas Jeffersob. Then you both climb the Dutch-tiled stairs. The distant sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway - eleven chimes - confirms it's time to retire. The last thing you see before you drop off to sleep is the view through the bedroom window: bright stars shining through a clear atmosphere, unclouded by smog or artificial lights of any kind. (Grace Slick, Somebody to Love? memoir page 25 chapter 1798 or 1998?)As was previously suggested (ND3), the wordless world is the original one (of myth), but we live in a topsy-turvy world where words define the physical reality.
The dark psychology exists in the calculated world, but cannot exist in the fecund cosmos. Words (news) nowadays have lost their reality for that reason. The neutralizing dragon sterilises reality in the compulsion to create illusory order.
The opposite tendency is to simply leave things to decay and fester and stage periodic revivals. Leaving things entails metamorphosis (see Buffy quote) and the disorder that creates order (songs round the campfire.)
In a world of calculation, leaving things be is not a ready option ('Let it fester, friends'). That's the dark psychology and compulsion that entices the ego of acolytes. The dichotomy of physical perfection with the personality that abandons psyche and melancholy for a futuristic illusion that can never exist without the profane serpent of distorted rhythms.