SO WITHIN AS WITHOUT.
As someone who is interested in myths and archetypes as reflects of ourselves and as beings in their own rights sometimes when I read a story or hear a myth I some how have the strongest sense they are misrepresenting or obscuring mostly the female parts within this story. One of these has always be Medusa. Something about her story never sat right with me so I re-wrote it.
The Temple
There is a temple on a steep hill looking out over the sea. It is
a temple of Aphrodite. It is not now what it once was. Only it's
bleached marble bones remain. Once it was painted many bright colours
and was full of the sound of women laughing, dancing and praying. For
Aphrodite was the salt of tears and a woman’s sex, both full of
power and magic. Once there had been a High Priestess of exquisite
beauty. Her supple skin was like late summer honey. Her eyes sat
between green and brown, were kind and warm. Her pure body was ripe
and strong. Her lips had never touched a mans. She was wedded only
some nights to the salty embrace of pilgrim wives seeking healing.
When the day came that men began to build a temple to Poseidon in
a cove a few miles away she lost no sleep nor worried at all. The
Goddess would protect them. Some came and left gifts for their wives
at home, and some for their mistresses and lovers too. The Priests of
Poseidon wore there hair long did not trimmed their beards and bathed
in salted water daily. As it was in all that world they loved to
compete with each over. They would swim and dive, ever pushing to be
the strongest and fastest. The High Priest of Poseidon had a tattoo
into his skin in a trident pattern on his left breast, wore nothing
but a skirt of seaweed and had thick black hair and a fierce rage to
his eyes of one who has seen too much.
It was not until a great festival did High Priest see High
Priestess. She smiled at him politely and lead the singing and
dancing without looking back. She did not feel his eyes upon her. She
did not know the danger. For his heart was filled with theia
mania. Not tender love, but a
ravenous hunger to own and destroy. Something about her made him feel
weak and he loathed and hated her for that.
She was not his first, there had been
the barley sellers daughter. The incident had driven him from his
village and into the priesthood. Then there had been the fisherman’s
wife. Then the faces and names began to blur.
The festival was long and there were
many women there. He was alone with her in his mind. At the end of
the night the woman put their little lamps and candles into the
water. These little bobbing lights mirroring the stars. They dipped
their hands into the water and touched their foreheads and lips in
reverence tot the Goddess.
The High Priestess followed her sisters
and daughters home laughing and sing as they wound up the hill. She
turned to look at the sea once more it's inky blackness peppered with
lights being drawn out to sea. When he grabbed her she froze unable
to breathe or think. Yet the moment passed and she fought him. She
managed to free herself and she ran. Her lungs bursting. Her hair
freeing it's self from their bounds. Once over the temple threshold
she stopped leaning back against it's cool walls. Tears streaming
down her face. Yet the bounds of honour, or mercy held him no sway
and he grabbed her by her wrist twisting it behind her. She cried
out. She fought and kick kicked him. He punched her in her mouth
splitting it and blood poured. She stumbled and fell to the floor. He
was on her ripping and biting and tearing. She screamed and
struggled. Her sisters came running. First they tore at him with
their hands then they beat him with a stick. They pulled the High
Priestess from him. They lead her to the altar room where the Goddess
herself sat in shire and lay her there. Blood poured from her. Tears
poured from her. She prayed. She wept. She found a pair of shears
that were used for the cutting of flowers and began to cut of her
hair. It fell in uneven clumps to the floor and mixed with the tears
and blood. She prayed and prayed. Then something happened. The statue
spoke.
“Oh Medusa, what do want? How can I
help you?”
The voice was rich with sorrow and
love.
“Aphrodite, I want to be the most
hideous create alive, so no man might touch me ever again.”
“Oh Medusa, it was not your beauty but
I give you what you desire.”
The light receded and the sound of her
sister grew louder and they brought the High Priest bound and beaten
to her. Something inside her had changed. Something burned in her
eyes.
As he was brought before her so she
knew what she would do.
“Get up.”
He struggled to his feet and she
looked at him deeply in the eye. He coughed and struggled for before
him was not the beauty he had devoured but a monster. Her eyes were
like pits of Tarturus and his bowels quickened. His breathe caught
and he found himself unable to move..
Medusa called for sacred water bowl. It
was brought. It was made of smooth cream stone and filled with sea
water. She brought him down to his knees. She took the hand of her
sister and they forced his face into the water, but they held firm.
His struggles were in vain and soon his lifeless body slumped on the
floor.
They took his body through the village
and everyone stopped and stared at Medusa.
At the square she stop.
“Behold what becomes of man or God
that defiles a woman in the temple of Aphrodite. I will hold the
temple no more but let it be heard that if one takes a woman this way
he should be brought to that cave where my sisters and I will live.
He will face justice from the Goddess.”
She she and her sister walked
into the cave and made it their home. Sometimes women would come to
the caves. They would find comfort and healing their for the crimes
of those who hurt them. Men were brought too. Young and old, rich and
poor, the sisters drowned them all. Some were brought by crowds,
others a few father and brothers. The beautiful Medusa with skin the
colour of honey was not there any more, she was a monster and she
thanked Aphrodite everyday.
I never believed that the Goddess would curse someone when they were innocent. I still don't. She gives us what we want.
