Iphis & Ianthe

"The personal qualities which recommended a man for a royal alliance and succession to the throne would naturally would vary according to the popular ideas of the time and the character of the king or his substitute, but it is reasonable to suppose that among them in early society, physical strength and beauty would hold a prominent place." The Golden Bough pg. 188

The story that I was asked to present on Tuesday is located in Book IX of Ovid and it is entitled "Iphis & Ianthe" and when I was assigned this story, I believe Dr. Sexson said that it was one of the most interesting stories in Ovid and I wholeheartedly agree. When you stumble upon a gem of a story written many, many years ago that still holds relevance today and might even make a bit of a political statement, it's easy to see that this Ovid guy was writing way ahead of his time.

Now, if you haven't read the story yet or if it's just currently lost amongst all the other myths we have read so far, I'll briefly sum it up right now. There was a couple on the island of Crete named Ligdus and Telethusa who were expecting a baby. Ligdus said to his pregnant wife, Telethusa, that they could not possibly afford to keep the infant if it was born a female. And while it pained Telethusa to accept this fact, she obeyed her husband's command. As she approached her due date, Telethusa saw (or thought she saw - perhaps it was all a dream) the goddess Isis and a bunch of her deities. Isis essentially told Telethusa to let her baby live, regardless of the gender, because Telethusa had worshiped her so faithfully, she would ensure that everything would eventually work itself out. When she awoke, she gave birth to a baby girl. Telethusa hid the sex of the baby from her husband and told the nurse to tell everyone it was a boy and gave her the name "Iphis" which fits either a boy or a girl. Telethusa continued to raise and dress Iphis as a boy. When Iphis was 13 years old, her/his father found her/him a bride named Ianthe whom Iphis is truly in love with. She pleads to the gods and goddesses while her mother postpones the wedding date. But of course, the wedding day is imminent and eventually it arrives. It is then that Isis transforms Iphis into a male and HE can finally have HIS bride.

After reading this, I thought of the Hilary Swank film "Boys Don't Cry" whereas Professor Sexson said it's similar to something you would see on Jerry Springer. Either way, it's easy to see how LIFE imitates ART, especially in Ovid.

Pygmalion

After reading Ovid, I think I've come to the conclusion that my favorite story out of the entire "secular bible" is, unironically, the story of Pygmalion. It doesn't surprise me because it's the one story that ends happily and I'm very intrigued by the idea of not being able to find the "perfect somebody" so you simply create someone who meets your every expectations of your ideal significant other. Obviously, I'm not the only one who feels this way because people are still making modern interpretations of this love story.

And even now, I think that people try to create their significant other - not necessarily out of ivory - but rather by forcing someone to meet our expectations of them. And we all know the story of women who think they can "fix" the "bad boy" but when it comes down to it, I think people are simply too incorrigible. And unlike the story of Pygmalion, we don't get our perfect person; we either compromise part of ourself to meet the standards of someone else or we reluctantly accept that other person, flaws and all.

For a quirky interpretation of  "Pygmalion" watch the film Lars and the Real Girl.

Bad Day

One of the assignments we were given over the weekend was to (unfortunately) have a bad day. And while I don't think I went out of my way to have a horrible day, I was definitely more acutely aware of all the little things that would normally roll right off my shoulder. One incident that stands out is when I was coming back home from playing tennis, I changed from tennis shoes to flips flops and stubbed my toe very abruptly  on a large rock. It was painful. Why is it that your small toe is such an insignificant part of your body yet has the ability to harbor so much pain but "stubbed" in the appropriate way. Another small "bad-day" occurrence was at Avo's in the SUB when the girl making my sandwich was supposed to toast it, but the toaster was not on, so we both waited there for a few minutes while my turkey-on-wheat remained untoasted in the toaster that wasn't even on. I guess she didn't notice and I didn't really care - but then I realized the assignment was to have bad day, and I immediately became FURIOUS! (just kidding, but for the sake of the story, let's say I threw up my fist of anger and slammed it down on the counter and demanded a new sandwich - toasted this time). The additional "badness" of my weekend was essentially just the amount of stress weighing on my shoulders from tests, quizzes, papers, and reading assignments - that can really kill your buzz. 

Whenever I think of "no-good-horrible-very-bad-days", I always think of  "The Book of Job" and suddenly my life isn't so bad. I mean, he is this guy who seems to have everything going for him and then BAM! his world is turned upside down. I mean, could you imagine that there is some sort of higher being who decides that the only reason you praise "Him" is because you've lived a very cushioned life and wants to test your devotion to "Him" by taking away everything that you love? I can imagine that would be a very life-altering change or series of changes. And still, when Job has nothing, he does not curse God. Job was punished because the Gods were simply "performing a social experiment" on him. I think that's how the stories of Ovid and other ancient mythology are all about; if the Gods are angry, some mortal being will suffer and there will be massive destruction. Or even if the Gods are particularly "mad" but just want to play a little game, it could result as the suffering of mortals. I feel like this could serve as some sort of explanation for "bad things" happening to us; it's not just spontaneous, the Gods are always behind it. So maybe Zeus was just really upset with me on Sunday and that's why I have to suffer with an un-toasted sub sandwich. 

Dream

After many nights of not remembering any of my dreams, I finally remembered one! It's wonderful news because often, the most recent dream I have at night (assuming the human brain dreams several times per night) seems to slip through my fingers as the day goes on and other thoughts take up the space which the dream once occupied. I (unintentionally) finished this assignment by taking a nap in the middle of the day, and sure enough, when I woke up, the memory was crystal clear.

The dream isn't too edge-of-your-seat exciting, but I was in the car with my family back home in Billings (which consists of my mom, dad, and two younger sisters) and we were driving around town in my first car (an '89 Buick Regal with red interior and a digital display - tres chic, I know) but for some reason I was very nervous about how my family would react to my driving skills after I had returned home from Bozeman. In fact, I could only physically drive with one arm. I was swerving in the road when we reached our destination - Softies ice cream. But as I was pulling into the small parking lot, my car scraped the side of a black Cadillac Escalade, leaving a very deep, distinct scratch on the car. The man behind the wheel had bright, curly, ginger hair and began screaming at me as I stepped outside the vehicle. He actually kind of looked like the Swedish chef from the Muppets. I began to cry, but then my mom put her arm around me as our family bought smoothies and drove away as if nothing ever happened, and everything was still perfectly fine. Then I woke up.

I am pretty lost as to what any of this symboloizes (maybe I have a fear of people with red hair and have underlying insecurities about my driving abilities, or lack thereof) but what I did noticed was that my dream included the "hero's" final stage in his journey - the eventual return back home. Maybe after leaving for college and facing some sort of initiation(?) this was my-welcome-back-home-to-the-family dream. Who knows. I guess I have a lot to ponder...

Apollo & Daphne

Impaled by disdain I do not

Wish to be yours forever.

You stare at me with eyes of

Admiration,

Or lust, it may be.

The fields scream with your stride

As you approach me from behind.

All is silent.

Then I begin to run.

Faster and faster our worlds quickly

Become one.

You pursue me with the intention

Of keeping me forever.

How long is ‘forever’ in a young man’s eyes?

Within seconds I am an object of your strife,

Your fingers dart for mine like a golden arrow

Only moments away from piercing my heart.

You may say that this is love, but what is love if it

Can never be returned?

I laugh at you silently as you try to reach for my hand.

Foolish man, you can never love a woman

Whose fingers have turned to leaves.

Apollo and Daphne. John William Waterhouse. Oil on canvas. 1908.

Metamorphoses Of Ovid - Book I

Book I

The Four Ages: The golden age, in many ways, was the ideal habitat for all living things and everyone "lived at peace in tranquil ease". The four seasons did not evolve until Jove's rule began(during the silver age), when the world began to experience the extreme changes in weather causing man to seek shelter. It was not until that bronze age that violence began and the use of weapons was needed. It marked the end of a peaceful existence and the beginning of savage behavior that "gave way to every foul impiety". 

(The Golden Age)

The Giants: After the mountain tops were struck down with bolts of lightning by Jove, the Giants' bodies sprawled across the Earth and was absorbed by it. In order to preserve these creatures, man was fashioned out of their warm blood to create a race that was hungry for war and resented the very gods themselves. 

The Flood: Jove originally intends to set the Earth on fire, but decides against it after he remembers that the book of fates states the setting the world on fire would undo the fabric of the universe. Instead, he floods the earth by freeing Notus with his beard made of rainclouds and calls upon his brother Neptune to send the river gods to flood everything between the poles until one cannot make a distinction between sea and shore. All animals now swim amongst the sea and most men have drowned. 

Apollo & Daphne: Still basking in pride post- defeating Python, Phoebus heckles Cupid for carrying a heavy bow, saying that his shoulders are much more suited for a weapon of that size. Cupid retorts by piercing him with him the golden tip of his arrow, causing Phoebus to fall in love with a lovely woodland nymph named Daphne who despises even the very thought of love. But Phoebus is lovestruck and pines for her everyday as she flees like the lamb before the wolf. As he races after her, she calls Peneus' stream nearby where he transforms her into a tree. But Apollo is still in love with her and continues to wear her leaves to wreathe his hair. 

Phaethon: Cocky Phaethon says to Epaphus that he is better than him because he is the son of the god of the sun, and after being embarrassed by Epaphus for saying that his mother made up silly stories about his lineage,   Phaethon runs to his mother demanding proof that his father is, indeed, the sun god. His mother, Clymene, raised her arms to the sky and proclaimed that he is indeed the son of the god of the sun and is presented to the earth as the world's great gaurdian and she grants him permission to go to the sun god's house to ask him himself. At the end of the story, Phaethon arrives at the steps of Phoebus' palace. 

(Phaethon)

Earliest Memories

I have to admit, I am a little behind on my blog. So I am going to go back a couple class periods and start from there.

As I said before in my previous literature class with Dr. Sexson, my earliest memory is from when I was about 4 years old. My father took me to Toys 'R' Us (I can't remember the reason... maybe to buy a birthday present or maybe just for kicks). I was following him around for a while and then eventually wandered off into the bright pink Barbie aisle, where I was entranced by all of the different dolls. Some amount of time went by before I realized my dad was not in the same aisle as me. I walked over a couple aisles looking for my dad when I arrived in an aisle full of baby strollers and car seats. I thought it was weird that he was looking at car seats, but I tapped him on the back anyway. But when the man turned around, I saw that IT WAS NOT MY DAD! OH, THE HORROR! Needless to say, I turned around and back away as my 4-year-old  eyes began to fill with plump tears that rolled down my chubby cheeks. I ran into the arms of my dad (the real one this time) and swore to myself at 4 years old that I would not stray from my parents' side ever again (actually, I'm not sure if that last part is true, but I would imagine it would be).

My Dad and Me

Another early memory I have from about the same age is from Thanksgiving when my family would go to my Grandma and Grandpa's house is Absarokee , MT. While my mom and my grandma were preparing dinner in the kitchen, I stood in front of the refrigerator with all of my stuffed "Winnie The Pooh" toys surrounding me, using the refrigerator magnets to give them some sort of "lecture". Now, my early memories may not be as profound as Alyosha's in "The Brothers Karamazov" nor that mythological, but I would say they're (somewhat) detailed, right?