Persephone and the Creation of Mankind

From Theoi.com

In one obscure myth Persephone was accredited with creation of mankind from clay (in place of the usual Prometheus). A divine dispute ensued over which god should possess him, with the result that he was awarded to Zeus and Gaia in life, and to Persephone in death.


Pseudo-Hyginus, Fabulae 220 (trans. Grant) (Roman mythographer C2nd A.D.) :


"When Cura [i.e. Koure, Persephone] was crossing a certain river, she saw some clayey mud. She took it up thoughtfully and began to fashion a man. While she was pondering on what she had done, Jove [Zeus] came up; Cura asked him to give the image life, and Jove readily grant this. When Cura wanted to give it her name, Jove forbade, and said that his name should be given it. But while they were disputing about the name, Tellus [Gaia or Demeter] arose and said that it should have her name, since she had given her own body. They took Saturnus [Kronos] for judge; he seems to have decided for them : Jove, since you gave him life [text missing, presumably he was given control of the fate of men] let her [Persephone] receive his body [after death]; since Cura fashioned him; let her [Gaia] posses him as long as he lives, but since there is controversy about his name, let him be called homo, since he seems to be made from humus."

Persephone and the Creation of Man

I was young when it happened, and the world seems to have mostly forgotten about it. Since that crafty Prometheus came and told his own version of the story, I just let things pass.

It was long before I went to live in the Underworld with my husband. The meadows with their butterflies and daffodils were my constant companions. That warm immortal afternoon, when a day could last literally forever and be more beautiful than could be imagined, I was dancing down by a river. The river was so soothing on my bare feet, and the rocks were smooth. The water was clear and blue. As I danced along the banks of the river I marveled at the different textures I could feel beneath my feet. The cool wetness of the water, the soft brush of green grasses, the smooth bumps of the rocks, and the squish of the red clay between my toes. As I felt the clay, I had an idea. I got down on my knees and gathered some of the wet clay in my fingers. It was like making dolls, and I would play with them and they would be my companions. I shaped the figure with two legs, a slender torso and graceful arms. I sculpted a head with a face - ears, eyes, a nose and a mouth. I gave the figure luxurious hair on its tiny head. You may ask if I created Man or Woman first, but to tell you the truth I don't remember. I created both, together, equal.

As I held the clay woman in my hands, I heard steps behind me. I looked up to see my father. It wasn't often that I saw him, as I spent all my days with my mother. He smiled warmly at me.

"What have you made, Kore?"

I held it up so he could see. "I haven't given it a name yet," I said. "Can you bring it to life?"

He nodded and touched the clay figure. It sprang to life and began to happily dance on the banks as well. Zeus animated its partner as well.

"Since I made them, I was thinking about calling them Kore in my own honor." We gods are very proud.

My father chuckled. "No, dear daughter. It is I who gave them life. We shall call them after me."

Next thing we knew, my great grandmother Gaia approached. "I felt you," she said "you made these creatures from my own body. I claim them. We will name them for me."

We argued for some time over the issue. It was finally decided, since Gaia was Zeus's grandmother, they would ask an intermediary - Gaia's son and Zeus's father, Kronos.

You may think I had never been to the underworld before I married. You would be wrong. It seems so long ago, I was in the image of a little girl. Imagine, a 6 or 7 year old girl, with her two live dolls going deep into the underworld with her Great Grandmother and her Father - hand in hand. Kronos had been banished to Tartarus during the battle that gave power to the Olympians. And why it was that they would chose his counsel in this matter seemed beyond my comprehension. We all explained our positions to my grandfather. He watched the two clay figures dance and frolic about as they had no idea where they were.

"There is a lot of depth here," Kronos said finally. "And there are things at play that we will have not seen come to pass yet. While they live, Zeus they will honor you and your brothers on Olympos most high. They will belong to Gaia during that time. And when they die, they will be passed into the care of your daughter." I didn't know then he was telling me my very own fate then. "It does not matter what they are called, let them be called Human as they are made from humus."

So we released the people who began to populate the world. And as my story would later play out, I found myself the queen of the land of the dead and as each soul returned to me after they died I remembered that I created them with my very own hands. And that is why I protect them for all eternity.

Traveling with Pomegranates

When I saw the book Traveling with Pomegranates on the store shelves, I knew I needed to read it. The black cover features a carved wooden statue of a maiden in a blue dress, a Greek column and half a dozen pomegranates, I was certain this was a story of Persephone. I was not mistaken, though it was also a lot more than that. I recently finished the book by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor and I was very pleased that I had. It showcases several trips, to Greece and France that Kidd and Taylor took together over the course of several years. Each woman felt a deep inner struggle and they were in search of answers. Since their journeys brought them to Greece, it was only natural that they would both find symbolism in the myth of Persephone and Demeter.


I read this review at the Christian Science Monitor that criticized Kidd and Taylor’s propensity to describe exactly what the symbols in the myths meant to them. The reviewer thought maybe they should be allowed to make their own connections:

“Admittedly, it’s an interesting premise. The problems lie in its execution. While both authors draw some genuinely interesting parallels between their experiences and the timeless stories of their host countries (the myth of Demeter and Persephone is particularly apt), neither is willing to let the reader make his or her own interpretations as to what their meaning might be. The result is akin to being beaten with a pillow; repetitious and, in the end, unaffecting.”

I disagree – this is a book specifically about Kidd and Taylor’s own journeys. The deep introspection and their own interpretations are essential to understanding the story. It isn’t about *my* journeys to Greece and France and how the symbols of Demeter, Persephone, Athena and Mary affected me, so I want to know some of the details about Kidd and Taylor’s experiences.

I was most touched by a certain struggle felt by Taylor at the beginning of the book. She had found what she thought was her life’s passion on a trip to Greece while in college. But between that trip and a second trip with her mother, her future appeared to be unraveling. It was how Taylor handled this situation that I could most identify with. When she received a rejection letter from her graduate school of choice, her method of coping was to not tell any one about her inner struggle. She didn’t tell anyone about the letter or about conversations she had with her advisor. She just took these as personal rejections and filed them away, slipping deeply into depression. The truth was it was slightly comforting to me that someone else dealt with their own pain and struggles that way. Not that I advocate sliding deeply into depression, but that I also deal with my own pain this way.

It is certainly a bad habit. I do have a tendency to bottle things up. I remember a time years ago when I needed a minor surgery. I told very few people and just wanted to go in, get out and get it over with. When some friends of our sent flowers I was actually upset, I didn’t even want them to know what was going on much less feel sorry for me in any way. Those flowers symbolized a lot more than “Get Well” for me. It was like an admission of weakness. There are things that have happened in my adult life that I have never even shared with my own mother. Truth is, I am still not ready to share those things and I am currently comfortable with that decision. I don’t know that I will ever be.

Taylor’s story made me think of a part of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. In the end, when Demeter asks her daughter about her ordeal, I have always felt that Persephone was less than truthful to her mother.

“Indeed I will tell you, Mother, the whole truth.” She starts. After a lengthy description of what had happened she adds,

“When I picked [the Narcissus] in delight, the earth gave way from beneath, and the might Lord of the Many Dead sprang out. Hades dragged me most unwillingly under the earth in his golden chariot; I shouted and screamed aloud. In all this, though I grieve, I tell the whole truth.”

In Persephone’s words, I have always felt there was really only half the truth. Like she wasn’t telling her mother about the feelings she really had. I could see her looking down, never meeting Demeter’s eyes during this entire exchange. Knowing full well that she willingly ate the pomegranate that Hades offered her – not just because it was the food of the dead but she knew that it was the symbol of marriage, a gift given by a husband to his new wife. She knew that with the new deal struck by the gods she would now have to spend as much time with her mother, away from her new husband, and that it was just easier to let her mother believe that she too was upset about the situation. Each year, though, she dutifully returns to the underworld where she is revered as Queen. Just like my own experience and like that of Taylor, it isn’t uncommon for daughters to withhold information from their mothers.

The book is a lovely introspective read. It seemed to me to almost be a sequel to The Dance of the Dissident Daughter. However, it was the addition of Ann Kidd Taylor’s voice that really added a depth to the journey for me.

Lectio Homerica: The Homeric Hymn to Demeter Part 1

I had forgotten that I had started this project a little while back.  It was based on the contemplative Christian prayer practice called Lectio Divina.  I decided that perhaps I  need to finish this.  However, to start, I thought I would reprint the first several installments from my Livejournal, originally published in January of 2006:

I have always had very personal relationship with Persephone. It has been a lovely and evolving relationship. When I became first involved in paganism (publicly) I was all of 18 years old. I was very much in the "Maiden" phase of life as the Wiccan tradition describes and I related to the innocent "Kore" aspect of the Persephone story. However, as I have grown I have found myself on a similar path as Persephone herself. Having chosen not to have children I don't relate with the wiccan model of "Maiden Mother Crone" any more, but I do relate to the story of Persephone and her journey from Maid to Queen of the underworld.


So, here begins the story of Demeter and her beautiful daughter.

"I begin to sing of rich-haired Demeter, awful goddess -- of her and her trim-ankled daughter whom Aidoneus [Hades] rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer. Apart from Demeter, lady of the golden sword and glorious fruits, she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Oceanus and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus which Earth made to grow at the will of Zeus and to please the Host of Many, to be a snare for the bloom-like girl -- a marvelous, radiant flower. It was a thing of awe whether for deathless gods or mortal men to see: from its root grew a hundred blooms and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven above and the whole earth and the sea's salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy; but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the plain of Nysa, and the lord, Host of Many, with his immortal horses sprang out upon her -- the Son of Cronos, He who has many names. He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father, the Son of Cronos, who is most high and excellent. But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave, and the lord Helios, Hyperion's bright son, as she cried to her father, the Son of Cronos. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal men. So he, that Son of Cronos, of many names, who is Ruler of Many and Host of Many, was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot -- his own brother's child and all unwilling."

For those playing along at home, I am reading a translation by Diane Rayor (which the above is not). And I have just read the first section of the hymn here (it is a very long one).

I have never been a huge fan of the abduction part of the myth of Persephone. There is a more feminist version that I learned in college where Hades plays no part at all – that Persephone's journey was entirely her own choice. However, I have in my head a version likely in the middle. One where Persephone chose for herself to marry Hades and go with him into the underworld. This is not, of course, true to the Homeric version. But I like the idea that no only did Persephone have a choice but she chose to leave her Mother for her Husband's home.

And while I still see that choice between the lines of of this Hymn, I know it is self imposed.

What speaks to me of this version is the command of Zeus for Gaia (named Earth in the above version but specifically called the Goddess Gaia in the Rayor version) to grow an irresistible flower for the maiden Persephone to pluck – thus distracting her from Hades' approach and giving him the opportunity to snatch her. What does that flower represent? To me, it shows the choice Persephone made for love and beauty in her life. Zeus may have commanded the earth to grow that flower, but it was Persephone who chose to pluck it.

There are many such temptations in my life – that flower represents all the choices I have made and are they as beautiful and ultimately as fruitful as the choice that Persephone herself made. Are these choices painful at the start, like the author of this Hymn would like us to believe it was for the maiden goddess?

The plucking of this beautiful flower is Persephone's first steps into the underworld over which she will reign as Queen. She doesn't know her fate now, but soon her choice will show her what it is she was destined for.

We have to be more careful about which flowers we do pluck from day to day. At least I do. Some temptations are productive and some are not. Like Zeus commanding Gaia grow that irresistible flower – how are the gods here to guide our choices?

Now - this is NOT a Hymn to Persephone - it is honoring her Mother. So why do I so fixate on Persephone's part in this story? I don't know actually - but based on the first section that is what I see. I suspect my relationship with Demeter will evolve as I continue to reflect on the rest of the Hymn.

Indoor Winter Gardens

It is that time of year where I start to feel restless.  I am aching for Spring, but I'm not quite ready for it.  Like Persephone, I am torn between two seasons right now.  She is still in her underworld kingdom with her one true love, but a small part of her aches to see the green grasses and colorful flowers of the world above.  It is bittersweet. 

My feelings about winter have changed dramatically since I moved south.  When I was in Michigan I wouldn't start getting the restless feelings until about March.  But winter was still in full swing there.  In Georgia, the promise of spring is around every corner, even in January. 

Next week is Groundhog Day.  It is also known as Imbolc or Brigid's Day (Saint or otherwise).  Persephone herself is getting closer to her emergence as well, as she sometimes represents the seed in the earth that will become the green shoot at the Spring Equinox.  There are 6 more weeks of winter now, whether or not a rodent sees his shadow. 

I thought a fun project would be to plant seeds.  Remember in Girl Scouts or Campfire girls when you would plant the seeds in the dixie cup to watch them grow?  How about trying that again. 

In my search for basic instructions (yes, I realize that it is simple - seed, soil, cup, water....) I found this Gardening Science website geared toward pre-school teachers.  One teacher suggested the following:

Plant seeds in small, clear Solo cups. Add Jell-O, in a thick mixture, like Jell-O Jigglers consistency. Push seed down into the Jell-O after it has hardened. The cup should be about half-way filled. Sunflower seeds work best. Once the seed has started to grow, take Jell-O and seed out of cup and plant into the ground. The seed need not be watered while growing in the cup. It draws its moisture from the Jell-O mixture. It is a fun way to watch a seed sprout and grow!

I like the idea of watching the seed grow, each day being reminded of the coming spring.  Then, when spring does finally arrive, as it always seems to, you can replant it into a pot or garden.  Plus - you can pick whatever color of Jell-O that makes you feel happy.

Poem of Orpheus

I love the story of Orpheus' decent into the underworld to collect his dead wife, Eurydice.  I wrote this poem a couple of years ago trying to feel what it was that everyone felt when Orpheus played his gut-wrenching music for them.  I don't think I have succeeded. 

There is no song of love greater
Than the one I sing
For the nymph who left me here
All alone mourning for her
I need to find her
I need to crawl to the depths of hell
To bring my love back to me
So I can see her radiant hair
And her bright eyes
And hear her voice again
I walk and I wander and I go
Down to the world of the dead
King Hades the steadfast
And his most beautiful queen
I need to go and beg them
To give my love back to me
All the while I sing to them
The trees that bend to hear
Pointing the way for me
To the valley of the dead
And down, down, down I walked
Down to the valley of the dead
And on the bank of the river Styx
The boatman said to me
You stink of life you can’t come here
And so I sang to him
I sang so long and so deep
I sang of the love that my lady had
And the boatman wept
And he stood aside and let me board
His tears flowed down his colorless cheeks
As he drove me across
And so I sang and I sang
Of a love that I couldn’t live with out
A love for which I would go to hell
And at the gates of their kingdom
I met the Lord and Lady there
They barred my way in
And so I sang and I sang
A song of love and sorrow
Of the lady for whom I would go to hell
The lady I could not live without
And Queen Persephone wept
She wept for her mother who loved her
And for her lover who took her
And for all the love in the world
And King Hades wept
He wept for the longing that stole his wife
And made her eat the seeds that made her stay
And they stepped aside
And I walked into the gates of hell
With only one instruction
Not to look upon the radiant beauty
Of my beloved wife
I found her and begged her to follow me
And out and out and out of hell
We ascended the valley
Up to the inviting light above
And it was then my heart took over
I looked back to sing to her of my love
And she was gone, back to the depths
Where I could no longer go
And so I sang a song of sorrow
And so I wandered on

Another Poem about Persephone by Someone Else (TM)

Proserpine by Rossetti




PROSERPINA



(For a Picture)



AFAR away the light that brings cold cheer

Unto this wall, -- one instant and no more

Admitted at my distant palace-- door.

Afar the flowers of Enna from this drear

Dire fruit, which, tasted once, must thrall me here.

Afar those skies from this Tartarean grey

That chills me: and afar, how far away,

The nights that shall be from the days that were.



Afar from mine own self I seem, and wing

Strange ways in thought, and listen for a sign:

And still some heart unto some soul doth pine,

(Whose sounds mine inner sense is fain to bring,

Continually together murmuring,) --

"Woe's me for thee, unhappy Proserpine!"

Images of Persephone

Today, this image was brought to my attention.  I was startled, to be honest.  I don't know anything about this artist or about this website, but I was struck by the image.  It reminded me, in a way, of the painting by Lord Frederick Leighton, to which I had referred in my post Psychopompos' Lament.  But this new image made feel quite differently.  Repulsed, actually.

The image of Demeter reaching for her Daughter is very sad to me.  Her face appears drawn and empty.  As the classic tale is told, Demeter did withdraw after the loss of her daughter, so this is an appropriate take on her image, I believe.  She looks and feels dead, just like the aftermath of autumn when the world lies in the "death" of winter. 

Persephone reaches up desperately for her mother, but she is held by a horned god.  I assume it is Hades but I do not know why he has horns.  Is he the devil?  At the same time he also appears gentle and potentially even handsome.  She is also being clawed agressively by terrifying underworld demons.  Throngs of demons peer from their empty eyesockets in the halls of Hades.  Yet the artist calls her piece "The Rapture of Persephone".  The handy Merriam-Webster dictionary defines "Rapture" as an expression or manifestation of ecstasy or passion.  Or it could also refer to a  state of being "carried away" by overwhelming emotion, which I suppose is what is happening here.  The terrified face of Persephone, however, does not indicate to me that she is experiencing rapture at all.  I think she could.  In the myth in my head, Persephone is most definitely experiencing passion and ecstasy when she finally comes together with Hades.  The images of this painting do not convey that to me.  Not in a way that would make me call it rapture.   

Clearly, though, the artist has done her job.  She has provoked my thoughts and made me think about what my reaction says about me and the way I view the myth of Persephone.