#as a story of Sappho

[hecates-corner]

Even though there’s not a single myth on it, I’d like to think Aphrodite couldn’t give a shit about her sexuality.

She gets bored one day, and particularly curious, and heads down to earth. As she wanders around the markets in her mortal disguise, her attention is caught by a kind woman buying apples. Aphrodite wanders over, curious. She’s so beautiful, not so much that she challenges the goddess’ beauty, obviously, but she’s got these delicate features mixed with a sharp nose that stand out to Aphrodite. She likes how she looks.

The woman notices her, smiles politely, but seems captivated by Aphrodite’s beauty, even in her mortal state. She greets her, and Aphrodite likes that. Her voice.

She reaches for an apple, so Aphrodite picks it up and studies it, as if it’s at all interesting to her. She twirls it in the light, then looks up, and extends it to the woman, offering it.

As the woman takes it carefully, she twines her fingers in Aphrodite’s, for just a moment. It couldn’t have been an accident.

So Aphrodite, smiling softly, asks for her name.

The woman gives it.

Days later, Aphrodite is lounging on Olympus, twirling a strand of her hair and thinking about that woman she’d met. She was like no other, beautiful and prim and yet so powerfully attractive. Aphrodite bids her lover farewell on Olympus, Ares is gone to fight another war. A small one, but a war nonetheless.

She is bored. And roused. She wishes to go and have some sort of good time, but does not know what precisely to do. With Ares gone, and the others truly uninteresting, she huffs in annoyance. Then a thought occurs, perhaps she should simply go and find that woman again. Or attend some festival, who knows?

So Aphrodite takes the form of a dove, and soars through the air, searching. Her eyes land on a stream, sensing there is someone there she wishes to meet.

When she lands, she transforms into the same maiden she had been days ago. She tousles her skirts, and slinks out from behind the tree she used as coverage, and spies a woman with her back turned.

The woman is tying back her hair, perhaps readying herself to wash her face, or take a swim. It is awfully balmy that day, so either is plausible. She turns, and is surprised by the sight of Aphrodite, in disguise.

She blinks, but smiles a moment later. “I knew I had not seen the last of you.”

Aphrodite raises a brow. “You were so sure?”

“I would believe so, goddess. For you must know I was not finished seeking your company.”

Aphrodite is surprised. No one speaks to her in such a way, or calls her on her bluff so quickly.

“You are hasty to supplicate me, dear.” She says, just so.

“No, I am not hasty.” The woman replies. “I am bold.”

Aphrodite smiles.

“If I were a goddess, perhaps,” she begins. “Would you have me?”

The woman chuckles. “I think I am much too consumed by my thoughts of you to care whether or not you are a goddess.” She glances Aphrodite up, and down. “I would have you only if you sought me.”

And the line of the stream between them is much too large, suddenly. Aphrodite reaches for the pins of her dress.

“Come.” She says, a light smile playing at her lips. “Let us swim. It is much too hot to be standing here exchanging polite words.”

When all is said and done, and Aphrodite lays back against the bank of the river, her sweat and exertion mixing with the cleansing drops of water slipping from her locks of hair, she holds the woman close to her. Skin upon skin, tender and simple, for a moment. Pleasant. Just to be here, just to be. Just.

She cards her fingers through the woman’s hair. “I am sure you wonder which goddess I am.”

The woman hums, her throat making a sweet buzz against Aphrodite’s breast. “Perhaps. Only so I may call your name again.” She runs a finger down the goddess’ arm, from shoulder to wrist, then lingering there. “But I have my wits about me.”

Aphrodite smiles. “Oh? And who might you seek me as?”

The woman takes Aphrodite’s hand, now. “I shall love you no matter who you may be, Aphrodite.”

It is not the last time they meet, nor the last time they lay together. They dabble in fields, laugh over wine, and speak to one another late in the night. As it would occur, the woman is a poet, a good one at that, and writes hymns for Aphrodite in her lustrous love for the goddess.

The woman holds such court in Aphrodite’s heart for so many years, that Aphrodite soon fears, actually fears, her death. She laments the fact that the woman is mortal, and will die. The woman does not.

“I have lived a lifetime dappled with you. I do not weep for it, such a blessing.”

But Aphrodite still feels the knowledge gnaw at her. She knows she cannot make a god of the woman, but she may be able to place her judgement in the realm of the dead.

Decades pass, still enjoying one another. The woman ages, and she does not. But they still find each other in the darkness, in the light.

One day, decades and decades later, the woman dies. A peaceful death, a life prolonged by the proximity and life of a goddess. It would have surprised her to know she did not die of a tragedy, like all other lovers of gods. Perhaps that is why she is left out in history.

Aphrodite weeps for her, as she did Adonis, and select other lovers that were as golden to her as her own divinity. She carves a tomb, in memorial, that over time crumbles and breaks. She carves her name into it, but in centuries, it will be lost.

Her battle is not over. She composed herself, and urges her way to a field, near a crack to Erebos.

It is springtime. She may call for her.

“Persephone.”

At the invocation of her name, Persephone comes to the call.

“Aphrodite.” She greets, a mix of warmth and ice.

Aphrodite pauses, the request tingling on her lips. “You may not care, but we have had our moments, dear Persephone.”

They could not be called friends, no. But they could not be denied of the ways of the flesh they had once- twice, perhaps, shared.

She continues at the silence. “I come to request a placement for a soul.”

Persephone raises a brow. “I see.”

“She is virtuous, and a good woman, besides. I believe you should place her in Elysium.”

Persephone narrows her eyes. “Give me her name. I may see what I can do.”

Aphrodite gives it. Persephone returns a blank look. Then it shifts to an amusement.

“She has found her eternal rest, I confess.”

Aphrodite frowns. “I know. That is the reason for my request.”

“You misunderstand.” Persephone laughs. “She had drank from the river Lethe twice over. She has lived three virtuous lives, with this one her third.”

Aphrodite’s eyes widen.

“She resides on the Isle of the Blessed?”

Persephone nods, smiling still. Aphrodite does not know why.

But her heart leaps. There is that, she thinks. She has lived three virtuous lives.

Then a thought crosses her mind. “What made her virtuous, in this one?”

Persephone smiles. “She will write a history, in years to come. Perhaps all because of one lover she had in particular.”

[queerism1969]

[winged-cries]

[theoihalioistuff]

Natural 'Love Remedies' in the lanscapes of ancient greek myths. Part I: The White Rock

Sorry for the long post in advance, there are too many references and too much scholarly discussion to make a short snappy post. I abridged as much as I could :)

The White Rock is first mentioned in passing in the Odyssey, as part of the westward journey that the shades of the suitors undertake as they're led to to the underworld:

And they passed by the streams of Okeanos and the White Rock [Λευκάδα πέτρην] and past the Gates of the Sun and the District of Dreams. (Od. 24. 11-12)

This passage has at first glance little thematic relevance to the rest of the attestations to come (if you're interested in theories see further reading below), but I'd be remiss not to mention this first source for a "White Rock". The rest or these sources refer specifically to the White Rock of the island of Leukas (the Leukadian Rock), which was said to have the property of relieving the lovesick from their passion. According to Menander (in Fragment 258 quoted in Stabo's Geography):

It contains the temple of Apollo Leucatas, and also the 'Leap', which was believed to put an end to the longings of love. As Menander says, "Where Sappho is said to have been the first, when through frantic longing she was chasing the haughty Phaon, to fling herself with a leap from the far-seen rock, calling upon thee in prayer, O lord and master". Now although Menander says that Sappho was the first to take the leap, those who are better versed than he in antiquities say that it was Cephalus, the son of Deïoneus, who was in love with Pterelas. (Strab. 10.2.9)

Strabo is presumably quoting Menander's lost play The Leukadia. Unrelated to love but still interesting, Strabo continues:

It was an ancestral custom among the Leucadians, every year at the sacrifice performed in honor of Apollo, for some criminal to be flung from this rocky look-out for the sake of averting evil, wings and birds of all kinds being fastened to him, since by their fluttering they could lighten the leap, and also for a number of men, stationed all round below the rock in small fishing-boats, to take the victim in, and, when he had been taken on board* (alternatively: resuscitated), to do all in their power to get him safely outside their borders. (Strab. 10.2.9 continued) ~~ This might be seen as somewhat paralleling Pausanias 10.32.6 for those who are curious.

According to Wilamowitz 1913 (again see further reading below), Menander chose for his play a setting that was known for its exotic cult practice involving a white rock, and conflated it in the quoted passage with a literary theme likewise involving a white rock. There are two surviving attestations of this theme, in which falling off the white rock is apparently a metaphor for fainting (due to lust and wine respectively):

One more time taking off in the air, down from the White Rock into the dark waves do I dive, intoxicated with lust. (Anacreon PMG 370)

I would be crazy not to give all the herds of the Cyclopes in return for drinking one cup [of that wine] and throw myself from the White Rock into the brine, once I am intoxicated, with eyebrows relaxed. Whoever is not happy when he drinks is crazy. (Euripides Cyclops 163-168)

Sappho's legendary (and unfortunately fatal) leap off the Leucadian Rock to relieve herself of her love for the handsome Phaon (a figure that deserves a post of their own) is found also in Ovid's Heroines:

Here, when, weeping, I laid down my weary limbs, a Naiad stood before my eyes. She stood there and said: ‘Since you burn with the fires of injustice, Ambracia’s the land to be sought by you. Apollo on the heights watches the open sea: summoning the people of Actium and Leucadia. Here Deucalion, fired by love of Pyrrha, cast himself down and struck the sea without harming his body. Without delay love turned and fled from his slowly sinking breast: Deucalion was eased of his passion. The place obeys that law. Seek out the Leucadian height right away, and don’t be afraid to leap from the rock! (Ov. Her. 15. 165–220)

Finally, according to the mythographer Ptolemy Chennos (know for his bizarre stories) as quoted by Photius in his Library:

Those who leapt off the cliff are said to have freed themselves from erotic desire. And this is the story that lies behind it: it is said that, after the death of Adonis, Aphrodite wandered about in search of him until she found him in the city of Argos in Cyprus in the sanctuary of Apollo Erithios. She carried him away [for a funeral], having told Apollo about her love for Adonis. Apollo took her to the Leucadic Rock and ordered her to jump off the cliff. As she leapt, she freed herself of her love. They say that when she inquired about the reason, Apollo replied that as a seer he knew that whenever Zeus felt desire for Hera, he would come to the rock, sit there and free himself from the desire. Many other men and women who suffered from lovesickness got rid of it when they jumped off that cliff. (Photius Bibliotheca. 152-153. Bekker)

What follows is a long list of people who are said to have jumped off said cliff, some surviving while others not (in any case, quite darkly, all were relieved of their passions). Notably Sappho, the most celebrated leaper, is not mentioned.

The fact that Zeus is mentioned as only sitting on the rock and not hurling himself from it is interesting. Nagy 1990 (see below) notes the similarities between the Leucadic Rock and the "proverbially white" Thoríkios pétros ‘Leap Rock’ of Attic Kolonos (Sophocles Oedipus at Colonus). He also notes the double etymology of "Thoríkios" as derivable from the noun thorós ‘semen’ (e.g. Herodotus 2.93.1) as well as of the verb thrṓiskō ‘leap’ (which can also have the side-meaning ‘mount, fecundate’ e.g. Aeschylus Eumenides 600), and connects it with one of the myths that is said to have taken place on this mountain:

Others say that, in the vicinity of the rocks at Athenian Kolonos, he [Poseidon], falling asleep, had an emission of semen, and a horse Skúphios came out, who is also called Skīrōnítēs. (Scholia to Lycophron 766)

Poseidon Petraîos [= of the rocks] has a cult among the Thessalians … because he, having fallen asleep at some rock, had an emission of semen; and the earth, receiving the semen, produced the first horse, whom they called Skúphios. (Scholia tο Pindar Pythian 4.246)

According to Bednarek 2019 (see below), in view of Ptolemy’s humorous intentions in his collection of weird narratives, the story becomes a sort of "sophomoric riddle": What cure does Zeus have to administer "repeatedly" (εὶ ἐρῶν … ἐκαθέζετο καὶ ἀνεπαύετο), while sitting down, presumably alone and in secrecy, that clearly only provides a temporary relief, and provides an aitiological name for the White Rock, to free himself from his desire?

All this long-winded post just to make a fucking joke about Zeus having a wank. Worth it.

~~ Cape Lefkatas

Secondary Sources and Futher Reading (these are only the ones I mentioned in this post, apparently there's a lot to say on the subject):

Greek Mythology and Poetics, Gregory Nagy 1990. Ch. 9. Phaethon, Sappho’s Phaon, and the White Rock of Leukas: “Reading” the Symbols of Greek Lyric. https://chs.harvard.edu/chapter/chapter-9-phaethon-sapphos-phaon-and-the-white-rock-of-leukas-reading-the-symbols-of-greek-lyric-pp-223-262/

Levaniouk, Olga. 2011. Eve of the Festival: Making Myth in Odyssey 19. Hellenic Studies Series 46. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies https://chs.harvard.edu/chapter/17-penelope-and-the-penelops/

Bednarek, Bartłomiej. “Zeus on the Leucadic Rock. White magic of an obscene passage in Ptolemy Chennos.” Acta Classica 62 (2019): 219–27. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26945053.

Sappho und Simonides, Untersuchungen über griechische Lyriker by Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, 1913

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

Me: nah, i'm not that hungry.

Also me:

[charbroiledchicken]

my biggest flex is that i fit so many lesbian stereotypes without even trying:

-crushing on a straight girl? been there, done that, got the t-shirt three times

-strange queer codependent friendship when i was younger? done that as well (i got fake married to her with rings and everything and basically sat in her lap 24/7 oh and we had a whole shared pinterest board planning our wedding.)

-falling for your (old) best friend? DONE THAT AS WELL

-mutual pining but too scared to make a move so you end up losing your chance? SAME PERSON AS ABOVE

-crushing on someone with a boyfriend? JUST RECENTLY DID THAT WITH THE EXACT. SAME. PERSON. AS. ABOVE.

-mean lesbian/rude bi duo?? basically describes my two closest friendships.

-(updated) GETTING OVER A STRAIGHT GIRL BY CRUSHING ON ANOTHER STRAIGHT GIRL WHAT IS THIS PATTERN UM

i read the gay agenda and i am determined to tick all the boxes off one by one.

someone contact sappho.

[uselessgay10101]

Ignoring how they absolutely MASSACRED Mal (#JusticeforMal)l-

Nia is looking like a damn goddess here omg-

[feral-teeth]

American Psycho lesbians… American Psycho Lesbians save me…

Oh yeah it’s all coming together

Based off of TV girl lyrics and my own gender-bent American Psycho characters… <3

[ar-u-breathe]

I'm holding something for you.

It's a blessing, my dear.

It will follow you around

Till the end of the time

And keep you safe and sound

Until the day I die.

[worldscheeriestemo]

A Sapphic Vignette

“Nothing of hers would ever need to be mine but she exists there, in the light, by the tree, in the palm of the world and that knowledge makes a little piece of sun inside of me.”

[mumblingsage]

The situation where you'd love to quote a living poet as an epigraph for your story, but it'd be kind of weird to approach said poet for permission to quote them at the head of erotic fanfiction.

[hag-lad]

Crazy that I’ve had this damn tumblr account since I was 15, and I’m still here now at 30, posting about my wedding! My GAY wedding! We did everything ourselves. I altered my own suit and built the canopies out of thrifted bedsheets and told all my friends to dress up like hobbits and THEY DID and it was so special. A lot went wrong and I feel a lot of mixed emotions about the day itself, but I don’t want to remember all that. I just want to remember the beauty, love, friendship, romance, and tenderness of the day. I’m glad we did it!!! And we’ll do it again soon!

[clara-art-uwu]

Short imaginary story about how Lin Beifong & Tenzin break up, and Tenzin is a girl this time.

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

Me on Tumblr: *pretends to be super smooth and flirty and open about her sexuality and stuff*

Me in real life: *blushes because the cute waitress smiled at her, even thought being nice to customers is literally part of her job, and isn't able to speak for the next minutes*

[oddly-specific-aesthetics]

My Golden hour aesthetic.

[uselessgay10101]

"I am a daughter of the light

It's a truth I hold tight..

"I AM a daughter of the light"

I swear I'm right.

...But at night-

You catch my sight

How do you tangle me in a sin so bright?"