Photo credit: TimDan2 on FlickrAkrisios, king of Argos, had a daughter of surpassing beauty, but no son. At last he sent a messenger to the oracle at Delphi to ask what hope he had for an heir. The oracle’s reply was grim: Akrisios would have no son, and his grandson would kill him.
In the world of Greek mythology, Fate was an implacable force which the gods themselves could not escape. That didn’t stop people from trying. Often, their efforts caused the fate they feared.
So the king imprisoned his daughter, Danae, in a bronze chamber buried beneath the palace courtyard. Servants fed and cared for her, but she never saw the light of day. How many daughters have felt walled in by a father’s fears?
Walls, however, could not bar Zeus, the promiscuous father of the gods. Smitten by her beauty, he descended in the guise of golden rain, a splash of sunlight in her dreary cell. Small wonder the lonely girl succumbed to his advances. But Zeus nipped out as soon as he’d had his way with her, since the one thing he feared was Hera’s fury when she caught him cheating. Lonely once more, Danae gave birth to Perseus nine months later.
Her nurse helped hide the boy for a few years, but eventually his gleeful shouts ringing up through the courtyard gave them away. Akrisios dragged his daughter before the altar of Zeus and commanded that she confess the father’s name. Her answer sounded like blasphemy. Enraged, the father bound his daughter and grandson in a chest and commanded it to be tossed into the sea.
Thursday marked the beginning of the Chinese year 4706, the Year of the Rat. That means it’s time to share one of many versions of the myth about…
The Rat Race
Once upon a time, the Jade Emperor (or Buddha, some say) was holding a casting call for the signs of the Chinese Zodiac. The Chinese Zodiac wasn’t like the Babylonian one, of course. Instead of dividing the year into twelve months, it was a cycle of twelve years. But the idea was the same. Twelve lucky animals would each get to represent one out of every twelve years, and be the answer to that all-important question, “What’s your sign?” Talk about name recognition!
Many animals were eager to be one of the big twelve, and a noisy crowd showed up for the Jade Emperor’s summons. His challenge was simple. The first twelve animals to cross a certain river would get their names added to the wheel of years.
Now Rat and Cat, who were good friends in those days, had arrived together. Their whiskers twitched in dismay when they heard the Jade Emperor’s words. They weren’t stupid. They couldn’t fly, and they weren’t huge and strong like Horse and Ox. They didn’t have much of a chance. So they talked it over, and hatched a clever plan.
Ox, they decided, had the best chance of winning the prize. They’d seen him ford rivers like Cat stalking through tall grass. Also, he wasn’t too bright. So Cat and Rat asked Ox if they might hitch a ride across. That way, they told him, they would take second and third place after he’d won.
Ox was willing enough. Cat hopped onto his back with no trouble, and Rat shimmied up his tail, and off they went with a heave and a splash.
Halfway across, Rat proved himself a rat. Splash! He pushed Cat into the river. Then Rat scampered out to the tip of Ox’s horn and jumped ashore first. Some folks tell a slightly different story, that Rat took a good hard chomp on Ox’s tail, and — whoosh! — like a child playing crack-the-whip, Rat got flung the last few yards. Either way, Rat was declared the winner, and he became the first animal on the Chinese Zodiac. Poor Ox had to content himself with second place.
As for Cat, by the time she had thrashed her way ashore, bedraggled and half-drowned, the race was finished. Cat’s never forgiven her former friend, and she’s hated water ever since.
You can read about what happened to the rest of the animals here.:link:
When I was eight, one of my favorite books was Bernard Evslin’s The Dolphin Rider. I’ve forgotten which other myths it contained, although I suspect that Oedipus’ family troubles weren’t among them. The one that I remember is the myth the book was named for, a story that’s stayed with me all my life. That’s the myth I’d like to share first.
If you’ve been following my rotating “Myth o’ the Month” column on Ancient Greece Odyssey, I apologize for repeating myself; I’m going to archive the old entries first before moving on to Herakles’s next labor. However, what follows is not quite the same tale I posted before, because I’m no longer constrained to 2000 characters. Besides, what bard ever tells a story the same way twice?
Note that this is a loose adaptation of the myth; I’m telling the story as I remember it from childhood, and over the years I’ve embellished it here and there.
[Edit: After posting this, I ventured to check Herodotus, and I see that there’s nothing about Ionia in the original version!]
Arion was a youth in Corinth who played the lyre with such skill that many said he was taught by Orpheus, the greatest musician of all. For Arion had the power to charm birds and beasts, and some said the very earth was moved by his wild tunes. Corinthians pointed proudly to local rings of rocks or trees that had gathered around to listen, they said, where he had stopped to play for a while.
One day word came from the harbor that a great music contest was to be held in Ionia across the sea. The prize a bag of silver. Wealth did not draw Arion, but like many young lads he wanted to make a name for himself, the κλέος that was so important to heroes and the poets who sang about them. And where better to win fame than the birthplace of Homer?
His friend Periander, king of Corinth, warned him of sea-travel’s risks. There were no ferries in those days; one booked passage on any ship and hoped. But Arion was eager and adamant. So at last Periander yielded. For how could Corinth not send its best to compete before Homer’s gods?
Lady Brigid, the “exalted one” as your name says, I’m afraid I’m a few days late. Your feast-day’s just past. But I’ll probably be late for my own wake, so let me start Mythprint on Imbolc — or thereabouts — with your blessing.
Caesar called you Minerva, assuming you were the same goddess worshiped under a different name. After the Romans divided Gaul, the Celts used Minerva too, or sometimes Sulis. Caesar said they worshiped you as the goddess of arts and crafts, and that’s true enough. St. Eligius scolded his flock for invoking you to bless their weaving (Mac Cana p. 33). But craft is more than the weaver’s or blacksmith’s art, unless we include word-smiths and song-weavers too. Cormac’s Glossary of Irish lore, written about 1100 years ago, makes you a triple goddess with your two sisters: you inspire bards, and they inspire healers and makers.
On February 1st, one of the four great holidays of the Celtic calendar along with Beltane (May Day), Lammas, Samhain (Hallowe’en), the Celts celebrated your day as a beginning. They looked to the future, sometimes watching for the first hedgehogs to pop out of their burrows as a sign that spring was on its way. Irish Catholics couldn’t bear to let you go and still honor St. Brigid of Kildare, a legendary abbess who conveniently assumed most of your attributes as well as your holiday. In Ireland, she’s still second in popularity only to St. Patrick.
Long ago Kildare had a sanctuary in your honor where a perpetual fire burned, attended by priestesses. The Sisters of St. Brigid of Kildare kept your sacred fire alive in a new church built on your old sanctuary, rechristening your flame as the light of Christianity. The Reformation extinguished that tradition. Now that flame has been rekindled, and women have made pilgrimages there to light candles and carry your flame worldwide. May you continue to inspire poetry, healing, and the arts among all your sisters, whichever name they hail you by: Brigid, Brighid, or Brigit, the triple goddess.
Welcome to Mythprint, a blog for people who love mythology. Have I got a story to tell you! Please, pull up a chair.
This blog is a place to share my love of mythology through original retellings and recordings of my favorite myths.:play: I’ll also share related resources such as my photos of Greek art, personal picks for good websites and books of interest to students and lovers of mythology.
I invite you to stop by my other current project, Ancient Greece Odyssey: A Traveller’s Journal, taking you to Greece through my photos, travel diary, and expertise on art, archaeology, and the tales of the ancient world.
Finally, to keep food in the cat’s dish, I must interrupt our sublime contemplation of myth for a commercial break. My cat’s room and board are covered by the commissions I earn from Cafepress, where you can buy my photos and art printed on T-shirts, mugs, and other simple but unique gifts. The one most of you will probably enjoy browsing is my “It’s All Greek to Me!” shop; the banner at right shows you a few samples. Also, many customers like my Yes, I [heart] My Hybrid Car! designs, unique gifts for green car owners.
