I don’t know about you, but when I was a kid, I was
OBSESSED with Greek and Norse mythology. Of course, this would eventually fuel
my addiction to comic books, then to literature, then to teaching and writing
literature (if you will please forgive my hubris in calling what I write “literature”,
or even “literate”…). My grandfather, Papa Joe, would take me to the local
library and turn me loose for hours. I was obsessed with books about ghosts,
dinosaurs, the Loch Ness Monster, mythology, space travel, fantasy, Arthurian legends,
samurai, Celtic runes, Egyptian hieroglyphics, Genghis Khan, Tolkien, C.S.
Lewis, Magritte (I found the images by accident but never understood his art
until later…hell, still don’t understand it…), and I remember a particular
obsession with Jacques Cousteau for quite a long time. In any case, I had no
idea, until college really, how amazing and deep myths were, and until I had to
teach the Iliad and the Odyssey, on a collegiate level, I did
not really understand the depth that I had been barely delving into for thirty
years of my life. Myths, especially the Greek ones, were not just entertaining “cool”
stories—they were the fabric of what it meant to be human. Now, before you
think I am going to go all Joseph Campbell and Jung on you, and then you click
off of this page, don’t worry—I know all of that ground has been covered. I am,
however, going to flick randomly through the Who’s Who In Classical Mythology and see what strange things I find
which I have never heard of. This text is organized alphabetically…here we go…come
with me…
For example, the name “Agenor” means “very masculine”,
from the Greek “agan” (very) and “ager” (man). Poseidon had a son bearing this
name. If you meet a manly-man, he is an “Agenor”. Or most likely, a bore.
Boreas was the god of the North Wind—son of the dawn
and the stars—“boros” (meaning devour) plus “oros” (meaning mountain).
Cinyras had an incestuous relationship with his
daughter Myrrha, and she subsequently gave birth to none other than Adonis.
Because of this “crime” of hers (really?), she was turned into a myrrh tree.
Deino, whose name means “terrible”, was a sister of
the Gorgons, of Medusa fame…
Empusa was a shapeshifting beautiful female monster
who devoured her sexual partners (her name is said to be derivative of “insert”, or insertion…you fill in the gaps…).
Faustulus was the shepherd who found Romulus and Remus
in the she-wolf’s lair. His name means “lucky little fellow”—yet, those who
would then experience the ROMAN EMPIRE may have not been so lucky…
Glaucia was the daughter of a river, Scamander.
Hemera was the daughter of Erebus and Nyx (Darkness
and Night)—the word “ephemeral” derives from her name—a combination of darkness
and light which only lasts a short period of time…
Ialysa means “wailing woman”—perhaps a Greco-banshee?
I mean, this name even seems Gaelic to me…
Jocasta was the mother of Oedipus (more incest…ugghhhh).
There is only one “K” word in the Greek that we
apparently have—“Ker”. This word means “destroyer”, and it is linked to the
ValKERies, or “choosers of the dead”, apparently. Ker was born of Nyx—the abyss,
without a father actually, and she was a female spirit much like one of the
Furies. Scary shit.
I must say here, though, before I proceed to the “L’s”,
that there are a LOT of pissed-off and monstrous female entities in the Greek
pantheon, but rightfully so. The male was not kind to anything female very
often in Greek culture, it would seem…
Laverna was the Greek goddess of thieves. So, if you
name your daughter Laverne, she might be prone to getting into a bit of trouble…
Marsyras was a satyr who challenged Apollo to a musical
contest—flute versus lyre. He lost, and so Apollo flayed him alive and hung him
from a pine tree.
Nephele’s name means cloud. She is a daughter of the
ocean, Oceanus.
Ophion was a Titan, and his name derives from “ophis”,
or snake. He was known to be covered in scales and to reside in Arcadia.
Arcadia, like, I don’t know, Eden? And this scaly thing…? Sound familiar?
Phemeus was the minstrel at Ithaca in the house of
Odysseus (just a shout out here to minstrels and poets, etc.).
There is only ONE “Q” word in the text in question
here: Quirinus. This is the name Romulus was worshipped under, by the Romans,
after he became a God. His name is a derivative of “quiris”, or spear, which
was a Sabine word. We all know how it went for the Sabines, of course…
Rhexenor means “breaking through the ranks of warriors”.
Apparently, this guy was a battering ram.
Sciron was a notorious thief and charmer—he would lure
passing travelers up to a cliff and make them wash his feet—once satisfied, he
would just kick them right off the cliff. Then, a giant turtle would devour
them. Eventually, the Greek hero Theseus showed up and kicked Sciron’s ass into
the sea. This is the moment in the movie when the pervasive asshole finally
gets what is coming to him.
I just love the word “Terpsichore”. She loved to dance,
this one. She was also the Muse of lyric poetry, which, to me, epitomizes the
link between physical and intellectual expression in the act of poetry, which I
associate with a type of meditative breathing. “Terpo” means “to delight”, and “choros”
means to dance. Then, as “choros” becomes “chorus”, through history, we see the
link between sound and what the body does with it—poetry!
Udaeus means “of the earth”. If a man is salt of the
soil, tried and true to the land, he is an “Udaeus”.
Voluptas was the daughter of Cupid and Psyche. Need
one say more? I recently broke up with her. Actually, she dumped me.
Volumptuous.
Xanthus is associated with the color of a Palomino horse,
especially the mane.
There is no “Y” entry here to speak of. The Greeks
never said “you”, apparently, lol. They avoided the second person—it was only “I”
and “We”. Interesting…
Zeuxippe was a river nymph, or Naiad. Her name means “yoker
of horses”—she had twin sons who tended to misbehave.
So, this book in front of me has myriad things to
present, but I just wanted to revisit with you all my obsession, and maybe your
current or revitalized interest in myths. I remember what the library smelled
like. I tend to stick my nose in books, into everything really. My ex,
Voluptas, always made fun of me because whenever I encounter something new, I
sniff it—I actually hold it up to my face and smell it. The word “smell” is an
Old English one derived from the word “stenc”. Stench. I know that the sense of
smell is tied into our memories more powerfully than any other sensory
experience. We are all searching for the birth and death stench of our
timelines, I think.
Maybe my whole life has been a chorus of sniffing out
the ancient inside of me?
Maybe I am trying, through writing and my senses, to
smell some origin inside of me closer to the people born of gods, rivers,
gorgons, trees, winds, oceans, journeys, tragedies, quests, and horses than I
feel as a man born of my own biological parents?
Of course, this is grandiose—I was born of man and
woman, all flawed, all tragic and comic. I study the Asclepius, but I am mainly
just an olive tree who hopes to give.
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