One of my favorite things about working in the library is getting to see all the new books that feature the gods. Like this one:
This book is super cute and really fun! Here are some pics from it in case anyone interested!
That’s probably the nicest description of Hera I have ever seen in a book!
Translation: Poseidon is the worlds first ever cranky stubborn old man
This is better than any Renaissance painting by far!
Poseidon has an emotional support fish friend he carries around with him. I accept this UPG.
I like Zeus’s concerned face as he looks at Paris like “Am I really about to hand this world changing decision off to this moron?” Also just look how unbothered Aphrodite is!
What a surprisingly good ending! Women supporting women and gods learning and growing! I like it!
One of the best depictions of the Theoi I’ve ever seen ❤️
The Kharites are the goddesses of kharis (grace), personal beauty and adornment, and pleasures such as feasting, relaxation, and joy. They are also the goddesses of charming speech and song as well as festive dance and song. They are the attendants of Aphrodite and Hera.
“They are mostly described as being in the service or attendance of other divinities, as real joy exists only in circles where the individual gives up his own self and makes it his main object to afford pleasure to others. The less beauty is ambitious to rule, the greater is its victory; and the less homage it demands, the more freely is it paid. These seem to be the ideas embodied in the Kharites. They lend their grace and beauty to everything that delights and elevates gods and men.” (theoi.com)
This idea of the Kharites giving their grace to others makes sense when you remember the meaning of kharis: a reciprocal relationship with the gods in which mortals make offerings to the theoi.
The Kharites, especially Algaia as the wife of Hephaistos, also represented artistic beauty. Like the Mousai, they were said to have inspired and favored certain artists, and the gracefulness and charm associated with Hermes (words), Peitho (persuasion), Aphrodite and Eros (love), and even Athena (wisdom) is said to come from them. The Kharites were often depicted as companions of Apollon and the Mousai and were said to live with the Mousai on Olympus. Poetry was thought to be their favorite of the arts.
“Poets are inspired by the Muses, but the application of their songs to the embellishment of life and the festivals of the gods are the work of the Kharites.” (theoi.com)
Retelling the Myth of Leukippos: Trans Hero of Krete
For one of my final projects, I translated the myth of Leukippos from Antoninus Liberalis and wrote a modern retelling. The reason I chose to translate the story myself was that I wanted to get a personal feel for, and understanding of, the story’s themes, meaning, and symbolism. I believe the story of Leukippos is mainly one of motherhood and unconditional love; this makes sense given Leto is the story’s main divine actor. I chose to tell the story from the third person perspective of Galateia, rather than Leukippos, to highlight this theme. I also wanted to make Galateia a deeply religious character given that it seems she was rewarded by Leto for her piety. I mainly wanted to avoid the modern trope of depicting the gods as cold and heartless. To strengthen the story’s significance as a trans allegory, I also wanted to rewrite the story in a way that is more in line with our modern understanding of gender and its connection to biological sex. As a nonbinary person, however, I will never completely understand the experiences of binary trans people, and I welcome and encourage any positive or negative feedback those people may have in that regard.
I had a lot of fun with this assignment, and although I’m certain it isn’t perfect, I look forward to hearing what people think! :)
On the day of her wedding to Pandion’s son, Lampros, Galateia awoke to the smell of the chaste-tree flowering outside her window. She sat up in bed, breathing in deeply, and could almost feel the soft and warm embrace of Hestia, to whom the tree was sacred. Galateia looked at the hearth and saw Lady Hestia in her warm red peplos, her grass-yellow veil just barely covering her head as she crouched over the fire preparing a meal. The hair peeking out was in tight little braids, glistening and dripping with oil. The sagey smell of the chaste tree wafted through the kitchen. Hestia looked up from the hearth, and Galateia met her eyes. They were warm brown, and the flames in the hearth were reflected in her pupils. Galateia blinked, and the goddess disappeared.
Galateia just smiled, put on her simple white veil, and walked over to the altar. Some people may have thought they were going mad, but she saw the vision as a good omen. Today, she was taking the first step toward building a new home for herself. Quietly, Galateia took some incense from her father Eurytios’ stash and poured water from a jug into her favorite bronze phiale. She stood at the altar, before the sacred hearth, and raised her hands, holding what small offerings she could gather, and began her prayers.
“Lady Hestia, everlasting goddess who sits at the omphalos, attending to Apollo’s sacred hearth at Delphi, with oil dripping from your hair and fueling the fire of life, I thank you for your kindness in showing yourself to me. Your blessing over my new home, O most stalwart goddess, gives me every confidence that this marriage will allow me to prove my devotion to you and the other deathless gods.” She sprinkled the incense around the hot coals, causing the pleasant smell to waft up with the smoke. “To you all, I sacrifice my father’s incense for the last time, ever so grateful for your love and endless blessings.” Galateia allowed some of the water from the phiale to trickle into the fire as a libation to Hestia.
“Next, to Hera Teleia and Zeus Teleios, divine partners, rulers of Olympus, and patrons of marriage, I praise the sacred bond which you represent.” She poured a libation. “I come to you, modestly asking for your blessing over the bond of marriage between Lampros and I. Let our marriage, and its fruits, bring only honor to the gods.”
“And to Artemis Philomeirax, friend of young girls, you have guided me well through my girlhood.” Galateia poured a libation in thanks. “Bless me as I make the transition into life as a woman, a wife, and hopefully soon, a mother…” Galateia paused. She had been about to pour her final libation for Hestia, when she got a sudden image of Leto, Artemis’ mother, in her mind.
The titaness was covered completely by golden cloth, not even one hair exposed by her veil. The golden shape shifted and shined so clearly, Galateia was unsure if the vision was in her mind or if she was seeing it with her own eyes. The titaness’ demure voice echoed around Galateia’s skull, “Fear not, Galateia, my child, you are destined to be one of the greatest mothers in all of Hellas.” Then, the dreamlike vision ended. Galateia stepped back from the altar, more in awe than afraid. Never had she gotten this many signs from the gods before breakfast, and especially not good ones.
When Galateia went out to find her sisters, so they could give her the ritual nuptial bath, she did so with a skip in her step, excited to start her new life. As they worked together to wash her body and purify her for the ceremony, pouring water from the ritual jug, she regaled them with a description of the omens she had received. They smiled and tried to act happy for her, but Galateia was pretty sure they were rolling their eyes inside, thinking she was crazy.
The rest of the day was a blur but not really the magical kind. Galateia stood by while Lampros made sacrifices at the temple of Zeus, and Eurytios, her father, hosted a wedding feast for the couple’s families at his home. Galateia had never met Lampros’ family, and she thought they were delightful but could tell they didn’t have much in the way of resources. To be fair, neither did her family. She admired their ability to remain so positive, even through hardship. After the ceremonial meal, yet another ceremony, a procession, was held to bring Galateia to Lampros’ home, their families following behind. Though neither of their families had enough money for a lavish wedding, Galateia relished the opportunity to show her devotion in ritual after ritual. She wished, though, that she was allowed to lead even one of them. Even the ceremonial removal of her veil by Lampros felt like it had nothing to do with her, because it happened in their new bedchamber with their whole family watching.
That night, after the couple consummated their marriage, Galateia lay next to Lampros, trying her best to forget what just happened and wishing she could sacrifice a thousand oxen to Leto for her immodesty. She steeled her emotions and said, “My love, I am so happy. For years it has been my greatest wish to get married and become a mother. I can already imagine a little one running around this house, giggling and playing.”
Lampros grunted, “As long as it’s not a girl–they’re too expensive. If you have a girl, Galateia, we’re leaving her to the fates.”
Galateia slapped his arm lightly, “Don’t be silly, Lampros. I will love all of my children unconditionally, no matter who they are, won’t you?”
Instead of answering, Lampros grunted again, “And you have to take care of our boy.”
Galateia smiled nervously, thinking maybe he was just drunk from the wedding. “Whatever you say, my love. Goodnight. We can talk about this again in the morning.”
When Galateia awoke, Lampros was already gone from the bed. His missing sandals and shepherd’s staff told her he had left early this morning to tend the flocks. Galateia thought of their conversation last night, trying not to become panicked about her brand new marriage. She spoke a prayer and poured libations to the gods, thanking them again for blessing her with a beautiful new family, trying desperately to convince herself that Lampros would be as loving a father and husband as she had always imagined.
Eventually, she was able to forget her woes, and Galateia spent her day inside, welcoming her friends who were coming to visit the new wife. She was happy to see everyone, mostly female family members and a few girls she had met at temples and on festival days. She tried to forget that, for many of these women, this would be the last time they would be together and part of her family. She laughed and gossipped with the women, the wives telling jokes about life as a married woman and the maidens asking for all the juicy details.
“So, last night, what was he like, you know… in bed?” a girl, one of Galateia’s nieces, asked curiously, a mischievous grin on her face.
At first, Galateia thought of the troubling conversation she had had with her husband the previous night. Then, realizing what the girl meant, she blushed and stuttered, “I-I don’t suppose that’s any of your business, young lady. Is it?”
Her niece huffed. “Don’t talk to me like you’re my mother, Galateia, I’m only one Olympiad younger than you. Why do you have to be so boring, just because you’re married now?”
“It’s unbecoming of a lady, o-of anyone, to ask such questions. When you are in my house, you will speak modestly and with careful consideration.” Galateia didn’t know why she felt so strongly about it, but she did. She also didn’t want to betray the doubts about her marriage that were creeping back up in her thoughts.
Her niece stared at her for a second, mouth hanging open. Then she burst into laughter. She and her companion doubled over and began sputtering out their goodbyes. “Yes, mother,” her niece said in a mocking tone, and they left.
It was getting late, and after that exchange, Galateia hoped those would be her last guests. She closed the door, and was about to go over to the hearth to start dinner, when she heard a muffled voice outside. Reluctantly, she turned around to see if she had just shut the door on another visitor. When she opened the door, however, Galateia didn’t recognize the woman at all. She was old and hunched over, wearing a dark cloak and veil. Her eyes were milky-white, but they somehow had a depth that revealed the possession of overwhelming knowledge.
“Hello.” Even though she was weary from the long day, Galateia knew the value and importance of xenia and proper hospitality customs. Part of her was more weary of the possibility that this woman was yet another goddess who had come to visit her. “May I ask your name? Do you need shelter, ma’am? Or food?” She stepped aside and let the woman enter.
“I…” the woman cleared her throat and momentarily began to cough, “am but a humble seer. I have long forgotten my own name, but they call me Cassandra, after the famed Trojan prophetess.” The woman smiled, though it looked a bit painful.
“How…” Galateia blurted before she could think, “How exactly does one forget their own name?” She was immediately ashamed of herself. She had just reprimanded her niece for asking such questions without permission. “Nevermind ma’am,” she quickly added, “I apologize.”
The woman chuckled. “Oh don’t you worry, my dear.” She tugged on her veil, exposing her gray hair, which was dry as straw. “Leto is not angered by such small transgressions into immodesty. After all, it is natural for a person to want to be seen sometimes.”
Galateia wondered how Cassandra could’ve known about her relationship with the titaness. Such a close relationship was rare for a woman who was not yet a mother, and for once her veil was hanging in the bedchamber. “I-uh… How did you know I worship Leto?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I know many things–about you and about Leto’s plans. After all, before she gave me the power of prophecy, I was a priestess at her temple in Phaistos, but that was long, long ago.”
“Me? Leto’s plans? Prophecy? And exactly how long ago…” Galateia straightened and collected her thoughts. “Lady, uh, Cassandra, are you saying you have a prophecy for me from Leto?”
Cassandra smiled, and this time it didn’t look painful. Instead, it looked full of light and love, like the smiles Galateia’s mother would give her as they sat at the loom together when she was young, before her mother had died giving birth to her youngest brother. “I do, my love. Though I must warn you: what the fates ask of you is going to take a lot of strength, perhaps more than even I could give. But, child, if you stay by Leto’s side and honor the gods, I can guarantee everything will be alright in the end.”
Galateia swallowed hard. At first, she had been excited at the prospect of learning about her future. Now, she worried she wouldn’t even be strong enough to face it. She thought of the morning of the wedding–the blue flowers of the chaste tree and the golden veiled figure who had called out to her. “With the strength of Leto and all of the gods, I will do what I must.”
Cassandra began to hum softly, mumbling a hymn to Leto. Galateia immediately recognized the words. “May I join you?” Cassandra nodded and began to sing a little louder, so Galateia could join.
They sang Leto’s words from the hymn to Apollo, “Now hear this, Earth and wide Heaven above, and dripping water of the Styx, surely Phoibos shall have here his fragrant altar and precinct, and you he shall honor above all.”
Galateia opened her eyes slowly and almost jumped back when she saw Cassandra’s eyes, milky-white and now faintly glowing. She opened her mouth and Galateia recognized the voice that came out as the one she had heard from the golden veiled figure in her vision, “Galateia, my dear devoted child, I must warn you. What Lampros said last night in your marriage bed–he meant it. He meant it so much that it has been woven into his fate to produce only boys.”
For a moment, this almost relieved Galateia. Yes, she may wish she could have a daughter someday, but if having only boys would make Lampros happy, it wasn’t any larger a sacrifice than those which wives made everyday.
“However,” the voice continued, “fate is always tricky. The fates have granted Lampros’ wish for a son, but he is selfish, and his piety must be tested. Should Lampros be unable to love the son he prayed for so dearly, well, then he will fail that test. But I have come to warn you, my dear. Although you are a modest and devoted worshipper, your new husband’s fate has become entangled in yours. You will also have to prove your love for the gods and for your son. If you do well, he will be honored in Phaistos and throughout all of Krete, and you will be heralded as his great mother.”
Slowly, the glow faded in Cassandra’s eyes, and she started to blink again. “Well, Galateia?” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “What do you have to say to that?”
Galateia’s thoughts were so jumbled, she didn’t know what to think, much less say. She still couldn’t believe Leto had spoken directly to her–well, through Cassandra. Still, she had pretty much no idea what any of it meant. All Galateia knew for sure was that she was going to have a son soon. Finally, she would be a mother. She started to answer Cassandra, but by the time she could think straight enough to see, she realized Cassandra had vanished. Galateia washed up and then made dinner and sat down to wait for Lampros.
He didn’t return until well after dark, and by that time Galateia could barely keep her eyes open. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair. “Good evening, honey.” She yawned, then smiled sweetly. “How was your day? Tell me everything you did.”
Lampros snorted. “You wouldn’t understand–even if I wanted to explain myself to you.” Galateia wondered what it was about her that made him think he could treat her this way–only one day into what was supposed to be a lifelong commitment.
“What wouldn’t I understand, what it’s like to stand around in a field all day with sheep and goats?” Galateia asked innocently. Lampros sneered. She knew she was pushing it, but Leto’s words had confirmed one thing: Lampros was going to need to learn a lot if he wanted to pass his test. “A female seer came to our house today,” she said quickly, half-hoping Lampros wouldn’t hear her–or would just tune her out.
“Excuse me?” Lampros said with an angry edge. He took a deep breath. “First, this is myhouse, woman. And second, why would you want to talk to a female seer? Did you want to get scammed by all that hysterical mumbo jumbo they spout?”
Lampros’ reaction didn’t surprise Galateia. It was exactly what she expected. She called on all the strength Leto had given her and, as calmly as she could said, “She said that you would have a son.” Lampros’ eyebrows raised, a disgusting grin beginning to pull at his lips. “She also said that the gods think you’re selfish, and that the fates are testing you.” Then, Galateia pushed past Lampros, not even staying to see his face, and went to their bedchamber to get a long night’s sleep.
Galateia stood wearily at the altar, having just given her daily offerings to Hestia, Leto, and the twins. Selene had gone through her cycle nine times since Galateia’s wedding to Lampros, and she had been pregnant for about as long. As excited as she was to be a mother, Galateia was worried. She hadn’t seen Cassandra since the night after the wedding and had received no clear signs from any of the gods. Part of her wondered if she had imagined the whole thing with Cassandra–or perhaps Lampros was right and it was all just a bunch of hysterical mumbo jumbo. Galateia had to believe, though, that she had heard the voice of Leto. She didn’t know if Lampros would pass his test when she had her son any minute, but she did not intend to fail the gods.
That morning, Lampros had gone off to tend his flocks and said he wouldn’t be back for three nights. That was fine with Galateia. In the short time they had been married, she had already grown tired of Lampros’ constant griping, his insistence on blaming everything on Galateia’s foolishness, his refusal to participate in festivals and honor the gods. In fact, if Lampros was to stay gone, it might make Galateia happy–if it weren’t for the fact she’d have no way to care for herself or her son, at least not til he was old enough to tend the flocks himself.
Galateia sighed contentedly, as she imagined watching her son grow up. Suddenly, she felt water trickling down her legs. There was a sharp pain in her abdomen, and Galateia realized the moment she had been waiting for, literally justwaiting for, had come. Only then did she wonder how she was going to get help. Lampros was gone, and their nearest neighbor was half-an-hour’s walk away. Galateia frantically tried to think of what to do, when her vision started going blurry, and she collapsed back onto their bed. Just before her eyes closed and she went unconscious, Galateia saw the face of a young woman leaning over her. She was dressed in a maidenly peplos which glittered in the light, and at first Galateia thought she might be Artemis. Then she saw that the woman was holding a torch, shadows flickering across her face, shifting between the face of a carefree young girl and one screaming in agony, in the throes of childbirth. Eileithyia, Galateia thought. Then, her vision went black.
Galateia dreamed that she was sitting at her mother’s loom. She ran her fingers across the threads. She could smell honey cakes cooking over the hearth. Even though it was obviously a dream, Galateia hadn’t expected to see her mother, so when she appeared in the doorway, the air was sucked from Galateia’s lungs. “Mother?” she asked breathlessly.
Her mother smiled brightly and glided in Galateia’s direction. “My sweet Galateia,” she said, “My honeybee.”
Galateia blushed. It had been so long since someone had called her honeybee that she’d almost forgotten the nickname completely. “I- Where- Are you… real?”
Her mother laughed softly and kissed her on the nose. Galateia was starting to get tired of being laughed at by magic visions and old seers. “Was that kiss real, my honeybee?”
“Okay so you’re real,” Galateia said. “That doesn’t explain how or why I’m here, or why this is the first time I’ve seen you since my brother was born.” Galateia’s face felt hot. She never got this angry, but something about her mom showing up, right now when she was in labor, felt like a cruel joke–like the cosmos was picking the absolute worst time to remind her of how her mother had died.
Galateia’s mother looked at her with concern and stroked the side of her face. “I promise I am not here to cause you pain, my honeybee. I know it might seem that way, but you have to trust me when I say that the time wasn’t right. This anger that you are feeling is natural, but if you had felt it years ago, I’m afraid you would never have forgiven me. Now that you are becoming a mother, I think you understand that.”
“Why are you here then?”
“To remind you of Leto’s warning, my honeybee. It’s very important that you listen to everything I say.” She looked at Galateia with firm eyes. “Can you do that?”
“I will try my best, mother,” Galateia said, with as much courage as she could muster, “to do everything in my power to bring honor to you and to the gods.” Her mother smiled. “What do you need to tell me?”
“Whatever happens,” she started, “you must remember that this child is your son. You must be willing to die for him, as I did for your younger brother. That is why we are modest. Not just because we have been taught to hide, but because we have learned that to love someone unconditionally, as all human beings should, we must put others first, stepping aside so as not to dim their shining light. Leto, most demure of all the gods, created Apollo, the most brightly shining. To do what’s best for our children, we must lend them our light, so that they can emerge from our darkness, shining brighter than we ever did.”
Galateia waited. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. She was astounded at the wisdom of one mother–one titaness, and she wasn’t sure she could ever be as wise or as loving as her mortal mother, much less her divine one.
Galateia’s mother smiled and kissed her on the cheek. Then, she began gliding back toward the door. Just before she reached the exit, Galateia said, “Mother! Wait!”
“Yes, my honeybee?”
“Do you think I’ll be able to pass Leto’s test?”
“Just remember what I said, Galateia. This child is your son. You must accept this, no matter what Lampros or anyone else says. That is the test.” She turned back toward the door and disappeared from Galateia’s sight.
Galateia ran to the doorway to catch one last glimpse of her mother, but when she got there, the only thing outside was a beautiful white stallion, grazing, his white coat shining in the sunlight. Galateia didn’t remember looking away from the horse, but suddenly, she was just awake, holding a baby in her arms, swaddled in the same glittering fabric as Eileithyia’s peplos. She looked down at her son’s smiling face. “Hello, Leukippos, my little colt.”
It was already the next morning after Lampros had left, meaning he would be back the day after tomorrow. At first Galateia worried he might yell at her for having the baby while he was absent, but what was she supposed to do? She thought about trying to explain to him everything she had seen–Eileithyia, the ghost of her dead mother. Galateia shivered. Then, Leukippos made a noise that instantly told Galateia he would need to be washed very soon. “Tsk-tsk,” she joked. “What are we going to do with you, Leukippos?”
She found another piece of cloth to swaddle him, and started unwrapping the soiled one. It wasn’t the shimmery magic cloth from Eileithyia, but it would do. When Galateia looked down at naked little Leukippos, suddenly, all the warnings–Leto’s, Cassandra’s, her mother’s–became perfectly clear.
A thousand thoughts began flying around Galateia’s head. Funnily enough, none of them were Oh look, a daughter. Instead, Galateia’s mind flew immediately to Lampros. If he found out… She didn’t want to think about it. She began running through all the possibilities in her head. Part of her thought about fleeing right then, but she thought better of it. How selfish would it be for her to take away Lampros’ opportunity to pass the gods’ test. Of course, she didn’t have much faith that he could, but it was only fair he got a chance to try. Then Galateia had another thought. “What if we just don’t tell him?” she asked Leukippos. Galateia didn’t know why she expected him to answer. Maybe she’d just had so many visions lately that she just assumed he’d open his mouth and start speaking in Zeus’ voice. Regardless, Galateia decided not to tell Lampros. She figured if she could just hide it for long enough, Lampros could learn to love the child and pass the test. And then what? She thought. He’d just magically become a good man because he didn’t disown his child? Galateia shook it off. There were so many things to think about, but Galateia decided she couldn’t make a big deal out of it. If she seemed too nervous, Lampros might start asking questions. Besides, this was her son. End of story. Galateia’s only job now was to love him until she died.
Before Galateia knew it, Lampros was back home, and the charade had begun. When he walked into the house to find his son had been born, he just grunted. “Had the kid, eh? Well, I just walked twenty miles, so I’m going to sleep. He better not wake me up with his crying.”
Galateia had been holding her breath since he walked in. She swallowed and half-whispered half-squeaked, “Y-yes, dear. Of course.”
The next few days went by without a hitch. Slowly, days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Every day when she woke up, Galateia was certain it would be the day Lampros found out and disowned them both–or worse. However, her job was a thousand times easier thanks to Leukippos. The boy was a good kid. In fact, he was an amazing kid. Not once did he disobey Galateia, or argue when she snapped at him to put some clothes on before his father got home. The two were inseparable. Although, being at home all the time, it wouldn’t have been easy to separate if they wanted to.
One night, when Leukippos was about eight years old, Lampros asked him, “Son, how would you like to come with me to the pastures tomorrow?”
Leukippos looked hopefully at Galateia. “I know we were going to do laundry tomorrow but, may I, mother?”
Lampros looked angry. “Don’t ask your mother, boy. You’ll be a man soon enough, and then you’ll have to stop looking to women for your orders.” He glared at Galateia.
Galateia laughed nervously. “Um, yes, my little colt. That should be fine. Just be extra careful.” She gave Leukippos a pointed look, letting him know exactly what she meant.
The next day, Lampros came in the door huffing, with Leukippos just behind him, a skip in his step. “So? How was your day, boys?” Galateia asked.
Leukippos glanced at his father. “It was, uh, fun.”
Lampros growled, “Yeah. Lot’s of fun,” and stormed off to get in bed.
Later, when Galateia asked Leukippos about it, he simply said that shepherding wasn’t his thing, and that he didn’t think he would be going out to pasture with his father anymore. That worried Galateia, but when a few more months passed without them being caught, she began to relax again.
As he got older, Leukippos started to become intrigued by the city. In all his years, Galateia had always been too nervous to allow Leukippos to go to Phaistos unaccompanied, and she was afraid if he went with Lampros, his father would come back alone, and she would never see him again. He also started to take more of an interest in religion. Since he wasn’t allowed to go to the city on festival days, and Lampros never did the proper sacrifices for the oikos, Leukippos’ only knowledge of the gods came from watching his mother’s daily rituals. He would sit quietly, sometimes for hours, as his mother prayed, gave offerings, and sang praises to the gods.
“Which one is your favorite?” he asked one day.
“What do you mean, my little colt?”
“I mean the gods. Do you have a favorite?”
Galateia thought for a moment, though she didn’t have to. Eventually she said, “Leto, my little colt.”
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“The best mother in the cosmos,” she replied.
“Like you!” Galateia’s heart melted.
Things went like this for about twelve years. By then, Galateia thought they might make it. Just a few more years, and Leukippos would be an adult. They wouldn’t have to worry about angering Lampros, because they could protect each other. However, just when Galateia began to let her guard down, Leukippos began to grow in beauty.
At first he was just handsome, but then his chest and hips started to grow. His hair formed perfect ringlets which framed his soft and un-angular features. His lips were more plump, his eyelashes longer, and his brown skin gave off a warm bronze glow. Lampros started making comments like, “You need to stop spending so much time at the loom. You’re getting so dainty, I might mistake you for a nymph.” Leukippos seemed to take this as a compliment, but Galateia could hear the hatred and disgust in Lampros’ voice.
In their bedchamber one night, Lampros said, “I swear. It looks like the boy is growing breasts of his own. And his voice–it’s so high, he might become one of the muses. I don’t know what you’ve done wrong, but I was told the gods were giving me a son–not… that.”
Galateia was trembling under the blankets. “I-It’s probably just a phase, dear. He’s just… growing into himself. It happens to all boys, right?”
Lampros just grunted as usual, obviously not satisfied with her explanation.
The next morning, after she heard Lampros leave, Galateia went to wake Leukippos. As she stood over Leukippos’ sleeping form, she looked at him, and for the very first time, Galateia thought about what it would be like if Leukippos was her daughter. She knew immediately that the time had come when she could hide her secret no longer. For years, she had hid with him in their tiny house, miles away from Phaistos and any neighbors with prying eyes. But even Lampros, however unloving and inattentive a father he was, would not be fooled any longer. Fooled. Galateia hated that word. Leukippos wasn’t fooling anyone. She began to get angry. Galateia had told Lampros that she had given birth to a son. That wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t a trick, and Galateia would not allow anyone to make her feel like she didn’t know who her child really was. She loved Leukippos and knew him better than anyone in the world. He was her son, and that was the end of discussion. “My precious little colt,” she said softly, “you will always be my son. We have not fooled anyone,” she reassured him, touching his forehead with her lips.
Leukippos’ eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, mother,” he said with a drowsy smile. Then, he looked past Galateia, at the doorway to his bedchamber. He shuffled so he could sit up straighter, “G-Good morning, father.”
Galateia spun around and met Lampros’ eyes. “My… my dear, I thought you had left to tend the flocks.” She prayed to every god she knew that he hadn’t been standing there long.
“Mhmm,” he said lazily, staring intently at their son, “and what’s all this about fooling people?” Leukippos looked down at his feet, sticking out from under the blanket.
Galateia’s mind was racing. “Oh that was nothing, my love. You know… just a bit of hysterical mumbo jumbo, am I right?” His eyes narrowed. She forced a smile and tried to change the subject. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t we all have breakfast together?”
“I don’t th–” In the blink of an eye, Leukippos had leapt out of bed at his father and knocked him to the ground. They struggled for a second, and Leukippos managed to sit on top of him, straddling his stomach.
“Go, Mother!” he said. “Run!”
Galateia ran out of the room, but she wasn’t going to leave Leukippos alone. She went to the hearth and lifted the biggest piece of wood she could carry. Then, she sped back to Leukippos’ room. The father and son were on the floor wrestling, and Leukippos was doing surprisingly well, especially for a boy who’d never had the chance to wrestle with friends. “Get out of the way, my little colt!” Galateia yelled. Then she dropped the block of wood about two feet onto Lampros’ head, hoping it would only be enough to knock him out. As soon as they heard his head hit the ground, they got out of Leukippos’ room.
Leukippos had begun to cry. “W-Where will we go mother?”
Galateia stopped long enough to embrace her son and wipe the tears from his eyes. “Don’t you worry, my little colt,” she said, “If we can make it to Leto’s temple in Phaistos, we will be safe. I promise.”
Before they left the house, Galateia collected her veil from their bedchamber and a small jug of water. Leukippos quickly threw on a peplos and sandals, and then they ran.
Galateia approached the steps of the temple of Leto. She pulled her veil over her head and braced herself to enter. When she looked back, she saw Leukippos staring in awe at the massive structure, painted with bright colors that were dulled by Night. “Come on then, my little colt,” she said softly, reaching out to take his hand.
“Mother, I’ve never seen anything like this place. Is it safe to go inside?”
Galateia smiled. “My love, of course it’s safe. Inside that sanctuary is the safest place in the world–the cosmos, even.” He took her hand a little reluctantly, but Galateia knew she was right. She was as sure that Leto loved her as she was about her love for her son. She opened the heavy door, thanking Zeus it was unlocked.
When they got inside, Galateia reverently approached the statue of the goddess–head down, eyes averted, and veil pulled forward. Once she was close enough, she stood straight up in front of the altar with her hands raised above her head, palms facing toward the sky.
“Mother, why don’t we kneel when we approach the gods? Isn’t it a sign of respect?”
Galateia looked over her shoulder. “Come,” she said, “stand with me and reach toward the heavens.” Leukippos did. “See, don’t you feel that? We stand this way to direct our prayers up to Olympus.”
The boy straightened and reached his fingertips up as high as he could. “Now what?”
“We begin by pouring a libation for Hestia, as she is the goddess of the hearth and present at all sacrifices. We must offer to her first and last, because she was the first born Olympian, child of awful Kronos and red-flowing Rheia, and the last to be disgorged when father Zeus gave Kronos the mixture of mustard and wine.” Galateia poured the libation and thanked Hestia for presiding over the rites.
“Now what?” Leukippos asked.
Galateia chuckled. “Now we sing our praises to Leto, my little colt.” Galateia faced the altar and started her prayer, “O Leto Koiogeneia, I come to you as a supplicant and a modest woman, a mother and her child, in desperate need of your divine protection. I have only a libation of water to give, but if ever I have sacrificed to you, despite having little, I beg of you to transform my son, just as happened to the Kretan Siproites, so that his father’s anger may be assuaged” When Galateia had finished, she poured libations of water upon the altar, one for Leto and one for Hestia, and began to weep, giving in to the grief and fear she felt for herself, but mostly for her son, and her tears fell upon the altar.
A second passed, then Leukippos gasped. “Mother, look!” Galateia raised her eyes and was nearly blinded by the statue, which was shining as brightly as Phoibos Apollo. She quickly pulled the veil over her eyes and covered Leukippos’ own eyes with her hand.
“Do not fear, my child,” said a new voice. The voice was soft and demure yet still commanding like a mother’s.
“M-my lady,” Galateia stammered, “I-I don’t–”
“Watch, child,” the voice urged.
Slowly, Galateia pulled off her veil, revealing only the skin of her face. She was reluctant to uncover Leukippos’ eyes, but then her arms went limp with shock. The shimmering figures of two women and two men had appeared, seemingly from the image of the goddess. When the light faded, the statue itself had been transformed into a woman wearing a golden veil. The veil fell away, exposing the goddess’ skin, as dark as Night and sprinkled with bright white freckles, which shifted, forming and reforming constellations on the body of the goddess.
She smiled. “Galateia, my pious daughter. I have heard your prayers.” The glittering figures stepped forward. “These are Kaineus, Siproites, Hypermnestra, and Teiresias,” Leto did not elaborate or specify who was whom, but Galateia knew it didn’t matter. A good mother’s love for the children she protects should be unconditional, like the love Leto felt for the figures and all her children, and Galateia for Leukippos.
Galateia finally spoke, “You have heard my prayers, divine mother, but will you grant them?”
Leto looked toward the boy. “That depends. Do you wish to be transformed in this way, my child?”
Galateia held back tears. She knew Leto would do what was right, but she hadn’t given much thought to how Leukippos felt until now. She just knew she had to keep him safe–from Lampros and the whole world.
Leukippos spoke for the first time, confidently, “Yes, O Leto! Just like Apollo, I am my mother’s son, and that will never change.” Galateia sobbed with relief and pride.
“Save your tears, dear Galateia. What you ask shall come to pass. Your son is safe. Thanks to you.” Leto smiled, and then, in a flash, she and the shimmering figures disappeared, replaced by the gold-and-ivory statue of the goddess, looking down at Galateia and Leukippos with love.
Almost ten seconds passed before either of them moved. Galateia could hardly believe the titaness’ words. Your son is safe. Galateia could hardly imagine what that meant.
“Mother,” Leukippos reached out and touched his mother’s arm, “you have given me my very life. You have allowed me to grow up with love and acceptance. Not everyone like me is lucky enough to experience unconditional love like yours–not even everyone who isn’t like me. I won’t pretend to understand the plans of the fates, but if your test was to prove your love for me, you have passed with flying colors every day for the past twelve years.”
Galateia couldn’t speak. She felt like a weight had been lifted and her soul was floating away, into the cloudy skies of heaven–the realm of the gods. She didn’t even think about having to return home to Lampros. It’s not like he could punish them now. Leukippos was now no different than any “normal” son he might’ve had, but he hadn’t changed a bit. Galateia wasn’t even sure they’d ever return home, as long as they were together. They curled up together on the temple floor and slept until morning.
When they opened the doors to the temple, they were met by thousands of sets of eyes staring up at them from a crowd at the bottom of the steps. Galateia hurriedly pulled her veil over her head. To their left, a woman spoke. Galateia almost fainted. It was Cassandra. “Oh, Galateia,” she chuckled, “your days of modesty are over.” Then she spoke louder so the crowd could hear, much louder than any old woman should’ve been able to, “You have passed your test, and, as promised, you, Galateia, and your son Leukippos, shall be honored in all of Phaistos and throughout the island of Krete.”
The crowd waited silently for her to say something. “Thank you, Cassandra,” Galateia said as loudly as she could, “but it is not me you should honor. Leto… Phytie. Leto the Grafter. She is the one who saved my son from Lampros. I have simply loved him, as any mother should.”
The crowd cheered. Leukippos, who had never seen more than three people in a room, looked frozen in shock. As the crowd sang their praises to Leto, Leto the Grafter, Galateia asked, “How- How did you all know we were here?”
Cassandra winked. “That was quite the light show Leto put on for you two last night.”
Galateia couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Yes, Cassandra. It was.”
“And what about you young man?” She put emphasis on the word man, not because he had changed in form, but because he had changed in age and maturity. “How do you feel after last night?”
Leukippos smiled at Galateia and took her hand. “I feel… loved.”
In Greek mythology, there are various personified spirits called daimones. Eventually this word evolved into what we now know as “demon” (a word with negative connotations), but daimones weren’t necessarily “evil” spirits. Most of these daimones are the children of Nyx, Eris, or Zeus. In general, the daimon children of Zeus are personifications of morally good concepts, while the children of Nyx and Eris represent the malevolent forces which plague humans. Some daimones (like Hebe, the goddess of youth, or even Eris herself) were full fledged gods, while others were mere personifications with no mythology or cult.
According to Hesiod
Moros:the personification of doom (the force which drive humans toward inevitable death). Prometheus saved mankind from misery by taking away the foresight of our own doom (Moros) and replacing it with Elpis (hope).
Keres:female spirits of violent or cruel death. One of the Keres, Akhlys, was the goddess of deadly poisons and the death-mist which clouds the eyes of mortals before death.
Hypnos:god of sleep, husband of Pasithea (relaxation)
Thanatos:god of peaceful or non-violent death. As the twin brother of Hypnos, he represented the eternal slumber of death.
Oneroi:spirits of dreams, they were sometimes considered the children of Hypnos rather than Nyx. Their leader was said to be Morpheus, a man who appeared in the dreams of kings bringing messages from the gods.
Nemesis:goddess of righteous indignation and deserved retribution against those with too much good fortune. She represented the balance of good and bad fortune.
Hesperides:spirits of the evening sunset. They were sometimes called the daughters of Atlas.
Momos:mockery, blame, complaint, and harsh criticism. Zeus expelled him from heaven for criticizing the gods.
Oizys:female spirit ofmisery, woe, distress, and suffering
Apate:female spirit ofdeceit, guile, and fraud
Philotes:friendship and affection. She may have also been the spirit of sexual intercourse.
Geras:male spirit of old age
Eris:goddess of strife. She is the mother of a host of malevolent spirits of war.
Moirai: the fates were sometimes called daughters of Nyx, although more often they were the daughters of Zeus and Themis.
Likely Children of Nyx
Anaideia:ruthlessness and unforgiveness
Adikia:injustice and wrong-doing
Adephegia:gluttony
Aergia:idleness, laziness, and sloth
Alastor:counterpart of the Erinyes who punished the family of murderers
Aporia:powerlessness
Lyssa:mad rage, fury, rabies
Epiales:nightmares
Dolos:trickery, cunning deception, and craftiness
Koalemos:stupidity and foolishness
Kakia: vice and immorality
Epiphron:prudence, shrewdness, and careful consideration
Phyge:flight, escape, retreat, and exile
Phrice:horror, she is a more severe counterpart of DeimosandPhobos.
Phthisis:wasting away, perishing, and decay
Hubris:insolence, violence, reckless pride, arrogance, and outrage. Her son, Koros, represented insolence and disdain
Dyssebia:impiety, sometimes called the mother of Hubris.
Amekhania:helplessness and want, sister of PeniaandPtokheia
Ptokheia:beggary, sister of AmekhaniaandPenia
Penia:poverty and need, sister of AmekhaniaandPtokheia
Eleos: mercy, pity, compassion
Sophia:wisdom
Elpis:hope. She was the last spirit that remained in Pandora’s box, representing humanity’s hold on hope in the face of all of these terrors. Her daughter, Pheme, was the personification of rumor, report, and gossip.
Sophrosyne:moderation, self-control, temperance, and restraint
Phthonos:jealousy and envy, especially in the context of love
Nosoi:male spirits of plague, sickness, and disease
Maniai:spirits of madness, insanity, and crazed frenzy
Arai:female spirits of curses (this is where I got my URL)
With the exception of her birth, Hestia is featured in two prominent myths. The first is the myth of her refusing to marry either Poseidon or Apollon and instead asking Zeus for the honor of tending the hearth. The second is the myth of her attempted rape by Priapos, in which a nearby donkey saves her by waking her up with its bray–allowing Hestia to escape.
My favorite is the story of her and her siblings’ births to Kronos and Rheia because it became the basis for the “first and last rule.” Basically, Hestia was the first born child of Kronos and Rheia, and she subsequently became the first to be swallowed by Kronos. After Zeus gave Kronos the mixture of mustard and wine and he began to vomit up his children, Hestia was the last to be disgorged. This gave Hestia the distinction of being the first and last born child of Kronos and Rheia, and is why the ancients offered to her first and last in every ritual.
I guess I should also mention the fake abdication myth. Basically, the ancients didn’t even “agree” on who the twelve Olympians were. In Athens, the altar in the agora depicted Hestia as the twelfth while the east frieze on the Parthenon showed Dionysos. There was never a concrete list of Olympians, nor was there an abdication myth in ancient times.
The City Dionysia is a yearly festival in honour of Dionysos, Lord of Wine and Theatre. In ancient Athens, it was celebrated with a theatrical competition featuring tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays.
This blog serves to bring this competition into a modern scope by allowing Hellenic polytheists to submit their own creative pieces in honour of Dionysos.
Currently there are no prizes for winning, the competition only aims to be a fun way to bring the City Dionysia to life as a communal event for modern worshippers.
Categories
The categories for this edition are the same as last year, that is:
Retelling of Classic myths
Original myths
Poetry
Art (digital or traditional)
2022 Timeline
Submission openings: February 26th
Submission closing: March 26th
Vote opening: March 27th
Vote closing: April 2nd
Winner announcement: April 3rd
Rules for submissions
Roleplay and fanfic are not allowed in submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.
Submissions do not need to revolve specifically around Dionysos, but they must be created in honour of the Hellenic pantheon.
All stories, myths, poems, and art pieces must be entered using the submissions button.
All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to.
Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content, squicks, and anything NSFW.
An entry may only be submitted to a single category.
Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.
Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to submit their work for this 2021 edition of the City Dionysia. Here is the full list (22 entries!). The link to vote is at the end of this post. You have until March 23rd 11:59pm PST to submit your vote. The winners will be announced on March 24th.
I’m a Roman recon and I’m studying to achieve a PhD in the Ancient History field one day. I find risible the attitude against academic resources, studies and scholars in the polytheist community. I’m not saying everyone should devote their life to study the history behind their tradition, but one should at least have some basic knowledge - about culture, history, art. Without bases your faith is like a tree without roots, and not like a temple with strong foundation.
Roman recon here, I totally agree with everything said. The hate towards reconstructionists really discourages people from learning about and trying reconstructionism, and it makes me sad to think that I can’t share my beautiful religion with someone who’s deeply interested in it because they’re too afraid of the backlash.
I actually agree with the whole backlash against academics. I’m really noticing that lately and it makes me wonder if people are choosing to be revivalists bc they think they don’t have to concern themselves with learning history and the ancient traditions. I do things very much outside of tradition but I still KNOW the way the ancients worshiped and how they perceived the gods. I know the history of Ancient Greece and the history of the gods. Where they came from and where they ended up. Ive been studying this since even before I knew about Hellenic Polytheism and I’m still studying. It’s my religion and these are my gods. Why wouldn’t I want to learn everything I can about them? I don’t understand people who claim this religion but refuse to learn its history.
I don’t even identify as recon, but if you’ve read my blog you’ll certainly recognize recon leanings. My take is less “would an Ancient Athenian/Greek recognize his religion?” rather than “does the Greek deity I’m worshipping recognize its own religious tradition?” I consider it basic respect to them.
I have seen a massive increase in absolute hatred of reconstructionism recently. From many people and those negative opinions get many likes and reblogs.
Yes, there are jackasses that demand you do everything X way or you’re scum and don’t know real religion uwu. But I’m not talking about that. That BS isn’t unique to just recons there are those who demand you accept their UPG. Or those who demand you accept their political interpretation of the religion as fact or else you will face divine punishment. That last one being the most common on Tumblr in my experience.
Why is this negativity towards reconstructionists increasing so dramatically?
Why is academic knowledge getting so much backlash as if it is completely useless?
I use to think reconstructionism for Sumerian was impossible because we didn’t have enough academic information. I was proven wrong and have changed my attitude. I now prefer the Sumerian reconstructionistapproach.
Why is anyone, both reconstructionist and revivalist, who wants to base their religion largely on historical fact being lambasted?
I’m writing out a detailed explanation of my faith and practice for a page on my blog but I’m truly starting to wonder if that is even worth it.
The atmosphere has become one of UPG = fact, academia is awful, if you’re a recon your “stuck in the past” and refuse modernity.
Reconstructionists are seen as awful people who refuse to “bring life” to these religions
I see more and more hate towards historical sources and especially reconstructionism. I don’t like it and don’t know if I want to be in this atmosphere.
My blog takes a lot of work to explain things with academic and historical knowledge as it’s basis because I’m not an academic and I no longer have access to university databases. However, when I have a car, I’m willing to physically go to libraries (in order to learn) so I can share that knowledge here and spend time finding accessible articles and books for questions I’m asked or posts I want to make. It is why some asks take so long.
I’m tired of seeing it called useless, stagnant, and being insulted for wanting to build up practices in line with the ancients as best I can without compromising my modern values (which I address on the unfinished page).
Thus, I don’t know if this blog is worth it. Is it worth continuing the sourcing series when so many are now against sources. Is it worth correcting misinformation and made-up history. I’m so tired of seeing posts that insult my approach.
——-
I’ll leave something that @baringtheaegis wrote about what “reconstructionism” (what she labels “traditionalism”) means to her and her organization:
“‘Traditionalism’, to us […] means that whatever you do, you keep that man [from ancient Athens] in mind and wonder if he would recognize what you are doing as an adapted and modernized version of his faith. ‘Traditional’, as such, has nothing to do with practices that link back directly to ancient Hellas; no one is claiming to trace a lineage back or to in any other way have a direct line into the ancient Hellenic religion. We take what we know from scholarly and original work and make a generalized framework that can be built off of and adapt that to modern culture. Then we flesh out our practice with ancient practices and ancient ways of thought that resonate with us.”
As another friend put it:
“I want my religion to be recognisable to ancient people and done in a similar spirit, but like, I’m pretty recon and I’m still very open to innovation and UPG, the reason I’m recon is that the bones of my practise are ancient and intended to be as close to the spirit of my religious ancestors as possible”
“Without bases your faith is like a tree without roots, and not like a temple with strong foundation.”
Excellent way to put it.
My own relationship to reconstructionism is complicated. While I definitely use a recon approach in my religion, I lean more towards Archaic practise and beliefs (and when possible, Mycenaean) than Classical Athenian, the usual period recons draw from. I’m also not “fully” recon - UPG plays a role to some extent, as well as local cultus, and a bit of merging with beliefs from my culture of origin.
But I also feel like this is the case for many, if not most recons. It seems that some non-recons have taken reconstructionism to mean “practising the religion exactlyas it was practised in ancient times, whenever possible”. But honestly, I’ve never seen anyone attempt that. Even the most hardcore recons agree that some aspects need to be modernised. As proof, let’s borrow a few quotes from some prominent Hellenic polytheist organisations generally considered to be recon:
We take what we know from scholarly and original work and make a generalized framework that can be built off of and adapt that to modern culture. Then we flesh out our practice with ancient practices and ancient ways of thought that resonate with us.
By the Labrys community, in their book Hellenic Polytheism: Household Worship (p. 18):
Due to the differences between previous historical eras of Hellenism and contemporary lifestyles and environment, we employ a practical approach to “serving” the Gods in an appropriately contemporary manner without distorting or compromising traditional perspectives and practises by “foreign” systems, ideas and customs.
We strive to be as historically (and mythologically) accurate as the state of the evidence allows. When gaps in the evidence, or the realities of modern life, make it necessary to create something new it should be: as consistent as possible with what we do know (…); clearly presented as a recent innovation (…); a balanced approach to understanding classical Hellenic religion which relies on both sound scholarship and poetic inspiration without mistaking one for the other.
All these quotes emphasise the importance of historical tradition, but also that of modern adaptations and interpretations. Recons aren’t trying to live in the past; they don’t promote a frozen, dead religion. Reconstructionism is just a methodology committed to using what we already have (aka the principle of “if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it”) and expanding on it in ways appropriate to modern life.
Basically, it’s the difference between building a temple on the ruins of an old one, and building a new temple elsewhere. Us recon-leaning people don’t want to recreate the old temple - we know it’s gone and lost, and it wouldn’t fit the needs of our current community anyway. What we want is a level of continuity. Disagree with that if you like; design your own, innovative temple if you like; but don’t claim that one approach is worthier or more “alive” than the other.
And yeah, regardless of what you want your temple to look like in the end, I do encourage you to research temple-building first. (In other words: study the religion’s history, even if you don’t intend to apply all of it to your personal practise.) Because if you don’t, you’ll end up with a different building - not that this is a bad thing, but it’s not the samething and can’t be called by the same name.
I don’t think I have been on tumblr enough to see this, but I have to say that it definitely is difficult to put so much time and energy into research for your blog and for your religious community only for it to be bashed on other blogs. I want you to know that many people, including myself, truly appreciate what you and other reconstructionist researchers do for the community. Thank you for what you do!
I’m doing research on mystery cults of ancient Greece and I was wondering if posting my notes and thoughts would be something you would be interested in? Ideas, facts, modern implements, etc. Let me know! I’ll be taking notes anyway so I thought I’d ask!
I wanted to address and give a perspective or an explanation of the actions of the Gods, I think some people might find it useful or just food for thought but first I’d like to talk about ancient Greece. Ancient Greece had a warrior culture similar to America and what I mean by that is that we tend to respect and honor people that conquer adversity through war and hold a general high esteem for warriors and war heroes usually over artist or people that contribute to recreational culture for lack of a better word with the exception of certain activist, politicians, scientist, and artist that conquered a lot of adversity. We obviously tend to value capable people that have to overcome great obstacles in life over someone who only excelled at what they do. This is evident in the very mythology of the afterlife of ancient Greece, traditionally only heroes are allowed to enter the Elysian Fields, most people who lived average lives would go to Asphodel which is similar to purgatory, and the worst to Tartarus which is similar to hell. I personally believe the myths are allegorical and metaphorical almost entirely however with that in mind in situations where Gods are antagonist in myths it could be seen that the Gods are actually pushing them forward in life for their betterment because without that adversity characters like Heracles and Odysseus are no longer heroes. Even if you take the myths literally and see Hera for instance as spiteful it is undeniable that she played an important role in pushing Heracles to greatness. Similarly Poseidon who was a major antagonist to Odysseus put him through a lot but essentially is the reason he’d get into the Elysian Fields. The truth is the myths are useful and can be inspirational because life is hard and being able to look up to people who have been put through the worst of situations by the Gods themselves and conquering that is awe inspiring. I’m sorry if I come off as pushy but that’s why I have such a huge issues with the old rhetoric that the Gods are amoral ruthless beings because if you allow that to over power every other perspective of a myth it keeps anything positive being understood from them. I know I wrote an articles worth and I apologize for any mistakes I may have made but TL;DR The Gods can seem antagonistic or immoral at times but there are several ways you can look at a myth and taking it at face value especially just to paint the Gods in a bad light damages the ability to learn from the myths.
