#mythology monday

[blackhornedarts]

My Gods Are Real Loki Work in progress.

Loki's punishment, and imprisonment for killing Baldr. Tortured, experimented on, and brought seconds to death only to be revived over and over again by Odin and many of the other Asgardians.

While his loyal wife Sigyn stays by his side.

[jurakan]

I find it weird and interesting that so many writers in Norse mythology retellings go with "Hel is totally infatuated with Baldr."

[huntunderironskies]

How Red Wolf Gave Us the Polar Night

And as another Monday comes to pass, I in turn bring another story. This one is primarily told among Inupiat werewolves in America (mostly the bits of Alaska above or near the Arctic Circle, natch.) Sorry it's a little late too! It's my mom's birthday so we went out to celebrate for a bit.

This story is true.

In the early days, Mother Moon would not come to this place. Uncle Sun had claimed it as his territory and his reign was cruel. Most of the Uratha would not go there, but Red Wolf's children have always made themselves a den where there were seemingly none to be found.

It was Innovation, Red Wolf's first child born under the Crescent Moon, who first found the tundra. Uncle Sun and his children had left a desiccated husk of land where few spirits could grow. As it is in the Shadow, so it is in the Flesh, and thus where now Labrador tea brush and pasqueflower grow, there was nothing but dusty earth.

So when Red Wolf heard that Innovation had gone there and survived, she was most pleased. She went north, whence she saw him running about, carrying many muthrum hidden in his jaws. He did not consume them, to her surprise, so she continued to watch. He arrived at a knoll, and the moment Uncle Sun's face was turned, he dove inside, and emerged without the muthrum.

Red Wolf said, "Do you create a stockpile, my son? It would be wise to do so with how harsh this land is."

"No, mother," he replied, "I make a den for them. Look inside this knoll I have created."

She saw the burrow hidden within the knoll, and inside there was a scaffolding of whalebone, caribou horn, and seal-leather, and the tunnel ran deeper than even her sharp eyes could see.

"Uncle Sun's children are foolish hunters, who kill too much and leave no good places for the prey to hide and eat," Innovation said, "but here they cannot go. In this way, the muthrum will grow into spirits, and the spirits may thrive and create new things in the Flesh. I shall make my own territory here, and it will be good."

"This is a clever plan," said Red Wolf, "but you have forgotten something. There is only so much that will thrive here, and as the spirits will grow hungry, they will turn on each other. It is certain to create magath."

Innovation was quiet. He had not considered this, but he knew Red Wolf was right. "Yet surely, mother, it would be better to have a half-world where some can thrive rather than nothing at all."

"If you are certain you wish to create it, then you must be willing to accept what will happen when it is no longer within your control," she said. "Have I not taught you to honor your territory in all things?"

Innovation was humbled. "You are right. I shall carry the muthrum outside, and collapse the tunnels. There will surely be other places to stay away from Uncle Sun."

"Ah, but is it truly honoring your territory to abandon it?" Red Wolf asked. "If it is Uncle Sun who is the problem, then we shall drive him away."

Now, Innovation was awestruck by Red Wolf's boldness. "But he is Mother Moon's brother, and her equal in power. We stand no chance against him, and as the ones who killed his brother-in-law, he will never hear us out. What is there to do to make him leave?"

Red Wolf merely smiled. "Uncle Sun has now made many enemies, and this we can use to our advantage. Let your own territory here beneath the earth grow to the boundary of Uncle Sun's. I shall return soon."

Inspired by how her son Innovation had crafted artifices of bone, leather, and sinew, Ravening Wolf went south and towards the sea, and hunted a whale, which she brought back to the shore. From its remains, she made an effigy of a strange beast. From the leather, she made rags to wear as clothing, and tore them to look as pitable as she could. From the plants that grew away from the fiery breath of Uncle Sun, she made a net. Satisfied, she hid the net under her new clothes, and dragged the effigy behind her.

When she reached the edges of Uncle Sun's territory, near another knoll crafted by Innovation, she dropped the effigy, and made a great fuss of pretending to fight it. Uncle Sun heard the commotion, and ran towards her. "What ill wind brings the kinslayers to my territory?" He asked.

"Ah, Uncle!" said Red Wolf. "I did not know this land was yours. I was hunting this strange creature, and my chase led me here. Since it was my hunt, may I make the killing blow?"

"You dare to take what is now mine?" Uncle Sun raged. "No. If you could not keep your prey on your own territory, then it is no longer yours. This is now my kill to claim."

"As you wish, Uncle." Red Wolf stepped back.

Uncle Sun readied his spear. When he plunged down the spearhead, it was entangled in the webbings of sinew that Red Wolf had crafted. As he struggled to pull it out, Red Wolf drew her net and caught him. Though she could not take him far, she had enough strength to throw him into the knoll and collapse the tunnel entrance. While Uncle Sun howled his fury, Innovation's craft was good, and the tunnels held as his own heat baked the clay solid. The many muthrum, who had grown to be ensih and greater still in strength, were able to pin him down through sheer numbers.

This is why in winter, when Uncle Sun sinks below the horizon, he will not return for quite some time. The spirits cannot hold him forever, of course, and he does break through. When he does, this is why there are many days straight of nothing but sunlight as Uncle Sun tries to reclaim his territory before the terrible spirits Innovation created seize him again. And this is why the many burrows made by Innovation still persist as No-Places in the Shadow, where both we and the spirits may hide during the midnight sun. And they say somewhere, to this day, Uncle Sun's spear is still in the Deep Shadow. Whether or not it is good to find it is another question entirely.

[mythsyourteacherhated]

This week, it’s off to ancient Greece to meet one of its most famous assholes - Theseus. We’ll cover his both and his Six Labors, which include a lot of general douchebaggery. Then in Gods and Monsters, it’s off to Crete for the origin of his most famous foe

[eirene]

Mermaid rising from the sea, 1930 Henry John Stock

Mermaid Mondays

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Do you know any books I can get to read the WELSH King Arthur stories? Something? I'm desperate for them.

In English? Or in Welsh? There's more options in Welsh, but in English your best bet is to get your hands on a copy of the Mabinogi, translated by Sioned Davies. There are a couple of Arthurian tales in there, most notably Culhwch ac Olwen. Also the Dream of Rhonabwy, but I think the general consensus of that one is that it was written in the medieval period as satire, possibly about the Glyndŵr uprising - it's utter batshit, therefore, it's great.

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #ManuscriptMonday:

Illustration of the goat Heiðrún from Icelandic Manuscript SÁM 66, 1765-6, housed at the Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies.

"Heiðrún or Heidrun is a nanny goat in Norse Mythology, that consumes the foliage of the tree Læraðr and produces mead from her udders for the einherjar. She is described in the Poetic Edda and Prose Edda."

[gingermintpepper]

Mother Love - Demeter and Persephone in poetry

Alright, so, let's finally talk about Mother Love.

I've spent the past couple of weeks compiling most of the poems from my physical copy of Mother Love into a publicly accessible google doc because there is a quite frankly embarrassing lack of archiving of this particular anthology of Dove's work and I am genuinely and greatly saddened that it is not a work more commonly brought up when discussing Demeter/Hades/Persephone retellings and reinterpretations for modern audiences.

In order to speak about what Mother Love is, I first need to address what it is not. It's not a coming of age story which portrays Persephone as a caged bird under a too-smothering Demeter. It's not a love story where Hades is some valiant hero who rescues an innocent maiden and through his love empowers her to be her truest self. It does not demonise Demeter, who has forever lost her daughter, it does not demonise Hades, who took that daughter away.

Instead, Mother Love is, perhaps, the truest interpretation of the themes of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter that I've seen, down to the structure of the anthology mimicking the hymn's narrative structure. It is the story of a mother who loses her daughter, of the grief that ensues as she worries for her, of her being pitied and given empty words instead of help finding her, of her trying to soothe herself by filling the void with new children that are not her own. It is the story of a daughter who loses her way, who went seeking flowers and was unwittingly caught in the machinations of those in higher positions of power than her, of the kingdom she is promised and refuses, of the changes she goes through in this new, strange world without her consent and how those changes will define her the rest of her life. It is the story of a lonely king overrun with ennui who wants companionship but never asks, of he who tries in vain to tempt with wealth and land and must ultimately yield to the love of a mother. Not even the lord of the dread Underworld can escape that all-consuming mother's love and this was a theme found all over greek mythology and their literature, and it is also the theme that has been unfortunately and miserably lost as we've told and retold the tale of Hades and Persephone time and time again.

Please, please read this work, and if you enjoy it, do consider picking up an actual copy of the anthology. There is so much to be gained from speaking of the Demeter/Hades/Persephone myth as one of nuance and devoid of the unnecessary moralisations and accusations that we habitually foist onto cultural figures and heroes in an attempt to validate our opinions and interpretations to our peers. In my compilation, I did leave out three poems: Breakfast of Champions, Blue Days, Nature's Itinerary, mainly because I did not think they were relevant -- but I'm always open to requests for those poems to be added to the doc if anybody gets curious. Below I've also attached a few of my favourite short poems from this anthology so people can get an idea for the content that is included in the doc.

@gotstabbedbyapen who requested a way to read these poems but could not find them, I sincerely hope you enjoy them <3

[saraharveypatrick]

Aurora and Athena, roommates, goddesses 🦉🔥 From web comic Persephone in Hell, re: an indie coffee shop in classical Hades

"Out of the skull sprang Athena, fully grown and in a full set of armour. Due to the way of her birth, she became the goddess of intelligence and wisdom." —greekmythology.com Just another Tuesday

[daphnalia]

this post literally is not even funny its just me asking for someone to write a dndads x pjo fanfic

[theagenes]

Of burning skies and Morning Stars - The bittersweet case of Sebastian Vettel 2/



Descartes' Meditations on First Philosophy - Kurt Brandhorst / The Prophet - Khalil Gibran / Michael Schumacher interview / Queen of Peace - Florence & The Machine / Mac Góráin, Fiachra. “THE POETICS OF VISION IN VIRGIL’S ‘AENEID.���” in: Classical Philology 109 / Sebastian Vettel interview (2010) / Antigonik - Anne Carson

[jurakan]

TV Tropes, I am begging you to find out why the number twelve might be important in Judaism/relevant to the Jewish people in Jesus's time.

Spoiler alert: it's not because of Greco-Roman mythology.

[From "Hijacked by Jesus" article.]

[huntunderironskies]

Mythology Monday: the Final Breath

Man, I owe you guys a few, huh.

But! I've mostly sorted my living situation out (which was singularly the biggest stressor I was deailng with) and I am currently free of deadlines. So I'm going to try and get back into this. This is another myth told in Wilmington, North Carolina.

...But it's a Changeling one, so there's almost certainly more than a grain of truth to it, isn't there? It might not be...just a Changeling one, though. ;>

Once upon the shores, there was a queen. She had not always been a queen, for once the queendom had been a society of equals. But a plague struck and the dead rose again, and the ones who did valued the blood of her people above all else. The queendom did not seek war, and so instead they bartered with the wicked dead.

At first, it was merely the criminals, and so the kings and queens gave up their subjects gladly. When the criminals ran out, they took the old and sick and those lost to their own dreams, saying they would die soon anyways. When there were no more old and sick, they claimed they had enough, but the young and helpless would disappear instead.

It was not long before there was only one person to take the throne, for she was the sole person left alive. Her grief was immeasurable, and she knew now it fell onto her to avenge her people. And so first, she turned to the oldest allies they had, the seasons.

“Summer, o Summer,” she pleaded. “You are the season of war, your sun shines so bright. Bring the light to the dead and turn them to ashes. Whatever you ask, I will give it to you, but let me take my revenge.”

“I cannot,” said Summer. “They already know to escape my gaze, they come only during the moon’s light. Seek help elsewhere, you lone queen.”

And so the queen ran, ran across the months, until the leaves turned to flame on the branches.

“Autumn, o Autumn,” she pleaded. “You know death better than any other season. That which clings to life can do so no longer with your passing. Let the false dead fall silent for good. Whatever you ask, I will give it to you, but let me take my revenge.”

“I cannot,” said Autumn. “There is no life left in them to take. Seek help elsewhere, you lone queen.”

And so the queen ran, ran across the months, until the flames on the branches turned to cinder and fell.

“Winter, o Winter,” she pleaded. “You are the season of bitter cold, freeze over the earth so the dead will be trapped beneath rimefrost and clay. Whatever you ask, I will give it to you, but let me take my revenge.”

“I cannot,” said Winter. “The dead lie in shallow graves, freeing themselves will be a simple task. Seek help elsewhere, you lone queen.”

And so the queen ran, ran across the months, until the blooms clawed their way out of the earth.

“Spring, o Spring,” she pleaded. “You are the season of desire. I know now that no season alone can defeat them. Bring those who still love life to me, then, so I will not be alone. We will defeat the dead forever. Whatever you ask, I will give it to you, but let me take my revenge.”

“I cannot,” said Spring. “Desire is selfish, and none desire death. You face a lost cause, lone queen. Escape with your life, this place is already lost.”

And so the queen ran, but there was nowhere left for her to run. She stopped at the sea, and knelt before it.

“Tides, o Tides,” she said. “You are where all things began, you are where all things will end. Swallow up the dead, take the rest of this place with them. Whatever you ask, I will give it to you. I care for nothing but my revenge.”

“It can be done, lone queen,” said the Tides. “I will tell you my request: my child needs a mother, there is only so much I can do alone. Protect them, guard them until they are well enough to rise again.” 

And the Tides parted, and she saw the thing beneath, claws and eyes and carapace. Her heart quailed. “You ask too much of me, this I cannot do.”

And so the queen ran, ran back to the dunes, and among the sea-oats and silkweed she collapsed, sobbing.

It was then the Owl who heard her tears, and they, all smoke and shadow, lofted next to her. “Why does one so beautiful mourn so?”

“The wicked dead have taken my people, I am the only one who remains. There are none left to help me, the seasons and the tides themselves have turned on me.”

“Ah! A story to make anyone weep,” said the Owl. “But perhaps you are not so alone as you think. My people have been known to take the carrion of the dead. Perhaps I can help.”

The queen, at last, took to her feet. “Then whatever you ask, I will give it to you, only let me have my revenge.”

“My queen,” said the Owl. “Your revenge is my own. I can ask nothing more of you than your success. Together, we shall never be forgotten.”

She wept tears of joy. "It will be done, this I swear." And then, there was no longer a queen, nor an Owl.

Now, there is only the Final Breath.

[mythsyourteacherhated]

New episode for Mythology Monday! It’s the further adventures of Jack the Giant Killer. Bonus, it’s a crossover episode with King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table!

[eirene]

Mermaid is holding a lobster, 1895 Alder

Mermaid Mondays

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I got a question. Kind of. So I was talking with a guy recently sort of about red squirrels and foxes and he said something along the lines that they were two of 'what we call the old Welsh animals'. He kinda said it like it was a thing, like a recognised category in some way. I guess some animals do get grouped together in some of the old stories like stags, owls, salmon etc, so is it just an informal rule of thumb like 'here's the creatures that turn up in myths'? I haven't been able to find anything online unfortunately. I'd ask the man himself more about it but he's a tricky guy to get hold of so I don't know when I'll get the chance now.

...huh.

I am fascinated to know what he meant by that, because there's nothing obvious I can think of. My best guess is that it's because they're both red? Red hair and dark skin are the two characteristics that mean Very Magic in Welsh myth, and that extends to animals - a red animal is connected to Annwfn. So the hounds of Arawn have red ears, sleeping on a red ox skin gives Rhonabwy prophetic dreams, robins usher souls to Annwfn after death, etc.

But I don't know of any specific tales about squirrels at all. Interesting!

They're both native? Maybe? One of the ways you can check for whether a UK species is native or naturalised is to look at its name in Welsh or Gaidhlig and see which language it was adapted from. For example, in Welsh, "polecat" is "ffwlbart" - a Cymricisation of the Germanic, suggesting they were introduced by the Anglo-Saxons. But "pine marten" is "bele'r coed", a term from Brythonic meaning "cat-like creature of the forest". This suggests it's native. Squirrels and foxes both fall into this native category, and these days red squirrels are super endangered of course; so maybe it's a reference to that?

Or of course, maybe this is referring to a myth I don't know about. Very excited to hear it if so!