All posts tagged Hera

Missing Letter Monday No “H” Repost – “Adulterous Zeus”

Published January 16, 2017 by Iphis of Scyros

“Adulterous Zeus”

“My wife doesn’t appreciate me,”
Zeus complained.
“You poor baby!”
Maia replied, smirking.

“My wife is terribly cruel to me,”
Zeus claimed.
“Awful, most awful!”
Danae exclaimed,
And sneezed.
(A gold allergy.  Surprising, no?)

“My wife doesn’t love me,”
Zeus insisted.
“A fool of a wife indeed not to love you!”
Semele answered.

“My wife will never be good to me,”
Zeus wept on Leda’s lap.
“But I’m good to you,”
Laconian lady Leda cooed back.

“Mom wants a divorce,”
Ares informed Zeus,
Once modern day dawned.

Zeus didn’t see it coming.

Everyone else did.

MLM icon init bonus points MLM H

Yup.  Still my favorite Missing Letter Monday post.  (Probably always will be.)

Originally posted 7/20/2015.

The Betrayal of Aphrodite

Published May 26, 2016 by Iphis of Scyros

Whoa…how long has it been since I did one of these myths?  Seems like forever.  Well, anyway, I picked this one because it seemed relatively stand-alone.  I’m still not mentally up to the challenge of tackling the chronology of the life of Heracles, and I don’t want to do the voyage of the Argo until I finish reading the Argonautica.  And I want to leave the Trojan War for last.  Because.  (And yet…)

It happened one day — as it often did — that Zeus and Hera were quarreling about Zeus’ constant acts of adultery.  However, this time Zeus started the fight, angry at Hera for her constant torment of Alcmene and especially her son.

“Why would you torment a woman who shared her bed with me unwittingly instead of punishing me for my acts?!” Zeus demanded.  “And how could the son born from that bed ever be responsible for his own begetting?  Would you want to be punished for the acts of our father?!”

“You seem to forget that I also have rule over marriage,” Hera pointed out snidely.  “That woman doubly disgraced the noble institution by cheating on her husband with a married god, and as to the son!  He has no respect for marriage, bedding other men’s wives far more eagerly than his own!”

“But Alcmene thought I was her husband,” Zeus pointed out coldly, “and her son had never even imagined betraying the bonds of marriage when you tried to kill him in the cradle!”

Hera smiled coolly.  “But I knew he was going to.  Like father, like son.  And as to the woman’s supposed ignorance of your identity…I don’t believe it.  No woman could mistake another for her husband, no matter how alike they looked.  Even if she hadn’t ever been intimate with him before.  But why do you feel no shame for your actions?  You try to make me out to be the villain, even though you have no respect for anything but your own pleasure!”

“It isn’t entirely his fault,” Apollo suddenly interrupted.  “Sometimes it just happens; the insatiable, irresistible urge — the need — to bed some particular mortal woman.”

“What nonsense!” Hera insisted.

“It’s true,” Hermes agreed, deciding that if his brother had already intervened, then it was probably safe for him to do so as well.  Their step-mother wasn’t likely to take on three gods all at once, surely!  “I think Aphrodite gets a thrill out of forcing us to feel desire like that for mortal women.”

Apollo laughed bitterly.  “In your case, I think it’s her way of getting you to leave her alone.”

“Why would she want to reject me?” Hermes countered.  “I’m every bit as handsome as you are!”

“You wish you were as handsome as I am,” Apollo spat back at him.  “Besides, even if that were true, I might point out that she’s never deigned to grace my bed, either.”

Zeus cleared his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable at hearing two of his sons arguing about their desire to bed one of their sisters.  (Given that he had married one of his own sisters, and fathered a daughter on one of the other two, this was more than a little hypocritical of him.)  “This is quite the serious accusation you’re making,” he said, turning to Hermes.  “Aphrodite was given those powers with the express understanding that she was only to use them on mortals.  Can you prove that she has indeed done otherwise?”

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Published February 19, 2016 by Iphis of Scyros

Sorry this is a day late.  It’s been busy here of late.  (Having my class on Wednesday actually seems to make getting the myths ready harder instead of easier; Thursday has become reserved for trying to clean my house, doing laundry, and, naturally, for the first big push to get through my reading for the week.  Maybe I should move these to Tuesdays for the remainder of the semester…)

Anyway, this follows pretty soon after last week’s myth.  Er, it starts then, anyway.  Then it sort of skips ahead to after the birth of Apollo and Artemis…and the birth of Hermes, for that matter.

Every time Hera looked at her new step-daughter, Athene, she felt herself filling with a jealous rage.

There was a beautiful, perfect goddess, born from her husband’s head without the aid of a woman at all (or so Hera thought, as Zeus hadn’t admitted Metis’ role),  and yet look at the son Hera had borne him!  Hephaistos was a sweet child, but so ugly to look at, and deformed as well!  How could a mere male have produced a more perfect child than Hera herself?!

The more she thought about it, and the more she saw her husband preferring his daughter to their son, the more she grew to hate everything, and she began to quarrel with Zeus more and more often.

The final blow was, perhaps, when the children tried to intervene in the fight.

It wasn’t a quarrel over anything serious, not anything more serious than usual, at any rate.  By the time the other gods became aware of it, Hera and Zeus were screaming at each other with barely contained hatred, and the other gods could only gather around them in fear and uncertainty.

But Hephaistos wasn’t afraid, and he limped his way in between them, facing Zeus.  “Father, please stop this,” he said.  “Mother’s right; you — ”

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The Birth of Athene

Published February 11, 2016 by Iphis of Scyros

Okay, I know that last week I said I was going to go into Asclepios’ life and death this week, but…actually, there really isn’t much to tell, and I already told what little there was at the beginning of the story of Admetos and Alcestis.  So I thought I should get to finishing up with the general theogony.  I’m not entirely pleased with either of my available choices regarding the birth of Hephaistos, but it seems that among the Archaic sources, Homer makes Zeus the father, and Hesiod makes him fatherless, and when it’s a contest between those two, I have to go with Homer, so…yeah, going with that version.  The reason I’m making his birth so closely correspond to Athene’s in time is to make Hera’s complaints/actions next week make a little more sense…if any of this can rightly be claimed to make any kind of “sense.”

And I’m gonna go ahead and put in a “read more” tag right away, ’cause this gets a little PG-13 (in concept, not in language) pretty much from the word “Go.”  (Which is odd, considering it’s building up to the birth of a virgin goddess…)

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Published December 17, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

Wow, been a while since I’ve done a myth re-telling, hasn’t it?  I picked this one because of something I came across for my final paper in my Roman history class.  (I’ll explain along with my other discussions of the final paper tomorrow.)

In Argos, there was a river named Inachos.  The god of that river — like many other river gods, in truth — had many mortal children, and they, in their turn, had many more children, so that the people of Argos were often looked at as being all sprung from the banks of the Inachos.

One of the Argives who truly carried the blood of Inachos in her veins was Io, a beautiful young maiden who served as priestess in Hera’s temple.  Argos was a special place to the queen of the gods, and her Argive temple was her favorite place in all the mortal realm, so she visited it frequently.  And sometimes when she came back to Olympos, she would tell the other gods about the mortals she had seen in her temple.

And maybe — just maybe — she should have been a little more careful in telling those tales.

Because once — just once — when she was telling her sister Demeter how very lovely the priestess Io was, their brother Zeus overheard.

And of course he wanted to see this beautiful priestess for himself.  (He had always been a fan of beauty, after all!)

Zeus disguised himself as an old man, and went down to the mortal plane.  Looking harmless enough, he entered Hera’s temple, and was so immediately blown away by Io’s purity and beauty that it was all he could do not to start seducing her then and there, his disguise still in place.  Fortunately — or unfortunately, depending on your point of view — he was able to keep himself under control just a little bit as he approached Io.

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Trying to figure out where to take the myths

Published September 6, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

I’m starting to feel like I’m running out of myths to re-tell because I can’t start the major cycles–Heracles, the voyage of the Argo, the Trojan War–without deciding how to make the life of Heracles intersect with his time as an Argonaut, and without figuring how in the heck the life of Heracles works with the Theban cycle, considering he’s supposedly Theban, and yet why wouldn’t he have interfered in all that stuff?

There are also many other myths I’ve left out because I have to figure out how to handle them, not so much in chronological concerns like with the major cycles, but because the variations are so variant.  There’s the conflicting birth of Athene and birth of Hephaistos stories, for example.  Was Hephaistos the one to crack open Zeus’ skull to let Athene out, or did Hera give birth to him without the aid of Zeus because she was jealous that Zeus had give birth to Athene without the help of a woman?  For that matter, is Athene the daughter of Zeus alone, or did he swallow Metis because she was pregnant, not because he wanted her wisdom for himself?  These are all genuine variants from ancient sources, so each is just as “real” as the other.

I also still haven’t done Typhon yet, but that ties into the previous concern, because there are versions where Hera gave birth to Typhon–seemingly impregnated by Gaia!–because of the same jealousy over the birth of Athene that led to the birth of Hephaistos in the other variation I mentioned earlier.  So basically I see the following possible versions:

  1. Zeus gives birth to Athene -> Hera gives birth to Hephaistos unaided -> Typhon just happens
  2. Hephaistos is born to Zeus and Hera -> Zeus gives birth to Athene with Hephaistos’ help -> Hera gives birth to Typhon in jealousy over the birth of Athene

Hmm, I thought there were going to be more than two, but I’m not thinking of further combinations, for some reason.  (Which is annoying, because I’m pretty sure I’d thought of more of them before I started writing them down!)

The problem is that I’ve been preferring to go with lesser known variants, right?  So in both cases, we have a mix of lesser known and commonly known ones.  I guess the first one actually has two lesser known versions, and one more commonly known one, but the one where Hera gives birth to Typhon is a pretty huge variant.  On the other hand, it’s also a variant that paints poor Hera as the villainess once again, so maybe I should avoid it for that reason.

I don’t have to worry about this just yet–the minor myths of Dionysos will keep me covered for a few more weeks–but then I do need to start figuring this out.

Oh, yeah, I need to figure out how Theseus fits into the chronology of various other places and people, too.  I keep leaving him out for some reason, but knowing his chronology is important given his abduction of the underage Helen, and Medea often plays a role in his return to Athens after Crete, though I’m not sure I want to have that happen, given the way Medea’s usually depicted in that story…

So…yeah…I don’t know quite what to do.  Any thoughts?

Prometheus Ticks off Zeus, Part 2

Published August 6, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

Okay, technically, this should be called “Zeus tries to get revenge” but…I’m tweaking the story a lot to make it less misogynistic, and because I was hoping to give Prometheus more of a hand in how it turned out, so…sticking with this title.  Anyway, this picks up right from the end of part one.

“That was a pretty clever trick,” Hermes said, looking at the smoke rising from the mortal village.  “Maybe I could actually learn from this guy…”  It wasn’t often that he met someone who was almost as accomplished a thief as he was!

“Don’t pick up any more bad habits, little brother,” Apollo said, glaring at him.  “I don’t want you stealing any more of my possessions.”

“I’ll steal from someone else, then,” Hermes laughed.

“I won’t let him get away with this outrage,” Zeus growled.  “He must be punished!”

“It’s only a tiny flame,” Hestia said, stroking his arm consolingly.  “And fire always grows to make up for the loss.  The winter’s coming on, and the mortals must be cold down on the surface.  I’m sure he only wanted to protect them.”

“I had the fire taken away from them to protect Demeter’s forests from those foolish mortals!” Zeus bellowed, making Hestia back away from her brother in terror.  “I won’t allow that prattling Titan to get away with defying my will!”

“You were eager enough to listen to him when you thought he had a warning for you about how to keep your uncontrollable lust from getting us all locked up in Tartaros,” Hera snarled at him.  “How quickly you change your tune!”

“Maybe if you really want to punish him, you should give him a wife,” Apollo commented, shaking his head.  After seeing what his step-mother was like, Apollo had quickly decided that he was never going to marry.  In fact, he had decided to stop himself from ever reaching full physical maturity, so no one would ever expect him to marry.  If he always looked like a youth, then he’d never look old enough to be a husband.  Plus he’d look prettier, which was always nice.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Zeus agreed, with a cold glare at his own wife.

“I don’t think he was serious,” Athene pointed out, but her father wasn’t listening, having immediately leaped upon and embraced the idea.

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The Twisted Tale of Tiresias

Published August 2, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

When I was telling you about the appallingly titled Whores, Harlots & Wanton Women by Petrina Brown, I mentioned that there was, towards the very end, a very unconventional version of the Tiresias myth presented to the reader. I want to quote that now, and then explore both its unusual take on the story, as well as the (usual version of the) story itself, in a way that is slightly more analytical than my previous posts on the subject. (One of which was more accusatory, and the other was more just, you know, telling the story.)

Greek myth has it that a man called Tiresius was blessed to spend seven years as a woman. He was invited to share his thoughts on the experience with Zeus at Mount Olympus and concluded that women enjoy sex more than men. For bringing this unwelcome message he was blinded!

First off, yes, that’s how she spelled it; I did not insert a typographical error there. (As I said before, the book was sorely in need of a good editing.)

Second, given how women lived/were treated in ancient Greece, I don’t think there is any way, shape or form in which you can consider that a blessing.  Today’s world, yes.  Then, no.  Not in Greece.  Scythia, maybe.  Greece, no.  Sorry, just plain no.

Third, notice that she’s removed all mentions of Hera and the argument between her and her husband from the story, despite that said argument was the only reason Tiresias was being given the honor of speaking to the gods in the first place.  Apparently in Brown’s version, the conversation ran something like this:

Zeus: So, I hear you were a woman for a while.
Tiresias: Yes, it was quite the miracle.
Zeus: What was that like?
Tiresias: Oh, I’m glad to be a man again.  But the sex was better as a woman.
Zeus: How dare you say it’s better to be a woman!  Be blinded!
Tiresias: Wait, what?!

Gotta say, the actual myth does make more sense. Especially since her version left out the whole thing of Zeus giving him a “second sight” to make up for the regular sight that Hera had taken away in her anger. After all, Tiresias’ power as a seer was kind of vital to a lot of other myths, seemingly half the Theban myths, in fact.  (Also to the Odyssey…)

Presumably, she thought this modified version fit her point better, but I’m not sure why she would have thought that, considering the context and all that had come before it.  (Perhaps she was just trying to protect Hera from the misogynistic side of the story — it was her temper that caused Tiresias to lose his sight, after all — but considering the argument was over Zeus claiming that he had the right to sleep around because women have a better time in bed than men do, I think Hera’s anger was well justified, and any author worth her salt could easily portray the myth and show her anger as justified, rather than simply excising Hera from the myth. That’s the lazy way out.) Like most modern authors who bring up the story — especially ones writing for a general audience — her point was just to say “see, even the ancient Greeks had noticed that women have better orgasms than men do!”

There was literally zero analysis of why there would be a full myth about who has better orgasms.  Seriously, why is that?  (Not “why is there never any analysis?”  Rather, “why is there such a myth in the first place?”) It’s not like they cared if their wives were happy with their love lives; ancient Greek girls were married off without any say in the matter to men they didn’t meet until their wedding night, so there was no chance that either party was in love, or even in lust.  If they had cared if their wives loved them, they wouldn’t have had marriage practices of that nature.  (In fact, given ancient Greek marriage practices, it’s surprising that there are as many myths as there are about men falling in love with women and pursuing them with the aim of marrying them.  According to what one reads in the history books, that didn’t often happen in reality.  But I suppose it happened more often in the Late Bronze Age, when the myths were first being forged.)

Don’t let the Odyssey fool you; Penelopes filled with love and devotion were likely exceptionally rare in real-world ancient Greece.  Her cousins Helen and Clytemnestra were living out the fantasies of many a real-world Greek wife, I’m sure; many of them must have dreamed of running away with a handsome, exotic prince, or of butchering an unfaithful brute of a husband on his return home. (Actually, come to think of it, that was kind of the Odyssey’s point, that Helen and Clytemnestra were more typical than Penelope.  That’s actually why I don’t like it as much; its sexism is a bit too overt.)  But I’m getting off topic here.  (Again.)

If the myth of Tiresias’ judgment regarding the relative quality of male and female pleasure in bed wasn’t to assure themselves that their wives were enjoying sex even more than they were, then what was it for? Perhaps some of them observed their wives/mistresses/concubines having an orgasm and reflected that it looked like they were enjoying it far more than the man making the observation ever did.  Sharing their observations, they might have come to the conclusion that women had better orgasms than men.  They probably thought it was a gift from Zeus, to ensure that his conquests fully enjoyed being conquered.

But I’m not convinced by an explanation of that sort, either.  I think it tied in to another myth about the sexual nature of women, one that has been told in one form or another in most — if not all — human societies, despite being patently untrue.  That myth, of course, being that all women are sexually ravenous, uncontrollable beasts of desire.  The Tiresias myth could be used as justification for that, pointing to it as a reason that women are so lecherous, because it feels so much better, and that’s why they have to be locked away.  (Okay, they weren’t literally locked up, but they were confined to the home at almost all times.)

Most feminist authors have tended to look at that myth as men seeking excuses for their own behavior, particularly as looking for any reason to suppress women.  (While I’m not an author, that’s usually been my take on it as well.)  Apparently Freud (according to Brown) saw it as a reflection of woman’s need to be loved.  I don’t see that in any way, but I usually take issue with most of what Freud had to say about the sexes, so that’s hardly surprising.  I found a refreshing analysis of that myth in a very surprising place, however:

One often feels that these lustful nymphs that lustful men (in both ancient Greece and Papua New Guinea) are so fond of representing are not so much misogynistic images, i.e. reflections of sincere contempt for women’s inability to control their lusts, as alter egos—that by projecting insatiable lust onto women they are trying very hard and very obviously to eject lust from the field of men, insisting it’s not manly to behave like that, because they fear it probably is.

I call it a surprising place because that was in one of the end notes on the conclusion to The Greeks and Greek Love by James Davidson. (Yes, eventually, I will stop talking about it. Eventually. It’s just that kind of book. There’s a lot there to talk about. I haven’t even scratched the surface, believe me. (Well, it is 645 pages long.))

I’m going to try to accept that kind of reasoning as being behind both myths, since it believes the best of humanity in general, and I’d like to stop being a misanthrope.

But no promises.

Prometheus Ticks off Zeus, Part 1

Published July 30, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

Technically, I wanted to write about something a bit later, but in working out the reasons behind it, the sequence dictated I really had to start the story here.  So here we are.  But fair warning; the early stage of this is sort of, uh, made up.  We don’t have much information, so I’ve sort of assembled an ad hoc explanation of the later facts (some cobbled together from different versions) that basically fits the personalities involved.  (Just don’t go telling anyone that this is how the ancient Greeks believed mankind was first created, ’cause it isn’t.  But I don’t know what is, ’cause they didn’t like to write that stuff down.  Even Hesiod was vague on the subject and he’s our best source.)

After the calamities of the early reign of the Olympians had settled down, the world became peaceful.  Peaceful and dull.  Everyone quickly became bored with it.

Now, some of them had no trouble relieving their boredom.  Zeus had plenty of nymphs to chase, not to mention several sisters, and a half dozen voluptuous and willing Titanesses.  Poseidon found Oceanids to be quite accommodating, and as Zeus fathered younger gods, they, too, found plenty of diversion among the nymphs and dryads.

The Titans–what few weren’t in Tartaros–were less fortunate.  Hyperion, after handing over the reigns of his chariot to his son Helios, went into permanent and boring retirement.  Prometheus and his brother Epimetheus had been reduced to living in a small shack by their father’s disgrace in the battle against the Olympian gods, even though Prometheus had made sure that he and his brother had stayed well and truly out of the fighting.  (This brother, at least.  They had another brother who had been laid low by Zeus’ thunderbolt, because he hadn’t been willing to listen to Prometheus’ warning not to get involved in the war against the new gods.)

To combat his boredom, Prometheus decided that he would create men, a race of lesser beings to wander the face of the world and do things.

Big things.

Little things.

Interesting things.

Boring things.

Any old things at all.

It had to be better than just watching from a distance as Zeus seduced nymphs.

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Words Crush Wednesday – The Homeric Version

Published July 29, 2015 by Iphis of Scyros

This week’s Words Crush Wednesday is gonna be another long one.  On account of I want to get the battle in the river to a good stopping point, and there’s a lot left.  (I know, I should just say “hey, just go read the whole Iliad already!” but that’s kind of been my point all along, right?)  Anyway, last week Poseidon and Athene showed up and showed that the reason Achilles has such a swelled ego is that the gods actually do pop down and help him out when he’s in a jam, and Poseidon told him (explaining that they were gods in disguise as mortal men) not to give up hope because they’d never let him die to an ordinary river.

Okay, so from Book XXI of the Iliad, W.H.D. Rouse translation:

Achillês was much encouraged by this advice, and he pushed across the plain.  The whole space was covered with water, all sorts of fine armour and weapons floating upon it, and the bodies of young men cut off in their prime.  He stumbled along wading through these and lifting his knees high to make way against the running current; Athena gave him strength enough to hold his own.

But Scamandrios was angrier than ever against Achillês.  He lifted a great crested wave on high and called loudly to Simoeis:

“I say, Brother!  This man’s too strong–let us both join to stop him, or he’ll drive the Trojans before him and sack the city!  Help here, quick!  Fill up your stream from the springs, bring down all your torrents, raise a flood, roll along trees and stones in confusion–we must stop this wild man who thinks himself as good as any god and sweeps the field!  I vow his strength shall do him no good, nor his handsome body, nor his fine armour–which will soon lie at the bottom, I think, buried in mud!  I’ll slime him over in sand and roll a mountain of shingle on the top!  His friends shall not know how to find his bones in all that slough!  Here shall be his sepulchre–there will be no need to pile a barrow when the Achaians make his funeral!”

Then the River rose in a mighty towering wave, roaring and swirling with a confused agglomeration of foam and blood and bodies, curving over the head of Achillês, and there he would have caught him:  but Hera saw the danger, and called to Hephaistos:

“Up with you, Crookshank, my son!  You were to mark River Xanthos, as we arranged.  Go and help the man, be quick, raise a conflagration, and I will bring West and Southeast with a heavy gale from the sea to drive the flames and burn up bodies and armour together.  You burn the trees along the banks and invade the river.  Don’t let him move you by prayers or by curses!  And don’t stop until you hear me calling and telling you to stop!”

Hephaistos at once raised a devil of a fire.  The conflagration first swept the plain and burnt up all the heaps of bodies which Achillês had left there.  As the wind blows in autumn on an orchard newly watered, and dries in it, and the harvester is glad, so the fire dried the water off the plain and consumed all the bodies.  Then he turned his flames to the river itself, burnt elms and willows and tamarisks, burnt clover and rushes and galingale and everything that grew along the banks.  Eels and fishes dived and darted about in great distress, as Hephaistos directed his fiery blast on the water.  The River was burnt himself, and called out:

“Hephaistos!  No god alive can stand against you, and how could I fight you, all ablaze with fire like that?  Make up the quarrel!  Let Achillês drive the Trojans out of their city and have done with it.  What are the quarrels and succours to me?”

He was well in the fire as he spoke, and his water was bubbling like a copper full of hog’s fat melting over a brisk blaze, with fagots of good dry wood piled all round: the water boiled, and he did not care to run any more while the fiery blast of Hephaistos tormented him.  So he appealed to Hera frankly:

“My dear Hera, why has your son pitched on my stream?  Why trouble me out of so many others?  You can’t blame me more than the others who help the Trojans.  Well, I will promise to stop if you say so, but let him stop too.  I give you my oath I will never help Trojans again, not even when the Achaians fire the city and burn the whole place up in the conflagration!”

At once Hera called out:

“Stop, Hephaistos, my admirable son!  It is not proper to knock about an immortal god like this for the sake of mortal men.”

At the word Hephaistos quenched his furious fires, and the river ran down between his banks as before.

So Hera stayed that quarrel, when Xanthos was pacified, although she was still angry.  But the other gods were bitter against each other on the opposing sides:  they soon fell to it with a great din, until the wide earth rang again, and the high heavens trumpeted.  Zeus heard the noise sitting on Mount Ida; his heart laughed with glee to see god meeting god in battle.

His sister/wife, brother and children are fighting each other, and his heart laughs.  Warm guy.

Seriously, though, the Homeric Hera is a horrible, horrible character.  She’s like the embodiment of all that’s misogynistic about ancient Greek culture.  I need to do some good research into the ancient Greek religious beliefs(my knowledge on the subject is only very basic) so I can do a good, accurate post on the subject, because I do want people to understand that the cultic Hera–the one who was actually worshipped–was entirely different than the one encountered in the myths.  That’s why you get the philosophers talking about how they dislike how Homer and the other poets make the gods act like human beings, because it’s so disrespectful, and because it’s so discordant with their cultic personae.  But that, too, should be its own post, and only after I’ve done more research on the actual religious side of things.  (After I’ve conquered some of my backlog of books I’ve actually already purchased.  Oh…yikes.  That may take a while…)


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The Social Historian

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Erik Kwakkel blogging about medieval manuscripts

Sara Letourneau

Poet. Freelance editor and writing coach. SFF enthusiast.

Zounds, Alack, and By My Troth

A tragical-comical-historical-pastoral webcomic by Ben Sawyer

Project Doll House

never too old to play with dolls

knotted things

All about the things that I'm all about.

Eclectic Alli

A bit of this, a bit of that, the meandering thoughts of a dreamer.

Omocha Crush

Secret Confessions of a Toy Addict



Onomastics Outside the Box

Names beyond the Top 100, from many nations and eras

Hannah Reads Books

This is an archival site for old posts. Visit hannahgivens.com for art, puppetry, and links to any current media commentary.

Ariel Hudnall

the writings, musings, and photography of a dream smith

Taking a Walk Through History

Walking back in time to discover the origins of every historical route on earth



Pullips and Junk

We're all mad about Pullips here!

Dutch Fashion Doll World

A Dutch Barbie collector in Holland

Confessions of a Doll Collectors Daughter

Reviews and News From the Doll World

It's a Britta Bottle!

Small Stories of a Twenty-Something Adventuring Through Life


It's all small stuff.

The Photographicalist

Preserving the photographical perspective

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

We're All Mad Here!

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