Nemesis

nem·e·sis

/ˈneməsis/

noun

1.      the inescapable agent of someone's or something's downfall.

a long-standing rival; an archenemy.

retributive justice.

Roberto Calasso’s The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony tells many stories about Zeus and his conquests of women. On page 125 we find a twist in that story. Zeus’ eye is caught by an extraordinary woman, an immortal woman. What sort of immortal she is isn’t clear, possibly she is a daughter of Kronos. All we know is that she belongs to a group of women who embody necessity and “hail from a distant past when the only powers that existed were abstract and faceless…” She is Nemesis.

These women of necessity are said to be extraordinary, otherworldly creatures. Nemesis had “a body that was both stable and very beautiful…rich, thick hair, white clothes.” She is the expression of the effects of causing offense. Her name would later “be translated as Vengeance…”

Calasso says that “Zeus found mortal women more attractive.” Why this woman broke the mold, we don’t know, but it is clear that “with Nemesis it was different.” Zeus begins to watch her, obsessed. Nemesis ran and he followed her all over the earth, pursuing her relentlessly. “Never, for a woman, had Zeus traveled so far…” Ending the chase, the god catches this supernatural woman and unites himself with her out of what is said to be “powerful necessity.” Nemesis, woman of necessity, is overtaken by necessity and Zeus falls prey to the desire for a woman, powerful in herself, breaking from his inclination toward mortal women who are frozen by his power. He pursued her with more zeal than he had any other woman, crazed by passion.

Thus, the god’s nemesis is Nemesis herself.

Telling My Story

Unfortunately, I didn't have any children with which to share my creation myth. But my friend volunteered to listen and even pretend to be a kid! He did interrupt a few times to ask questions, but his facial expressions were fantastic.

How the World Was Made

There is water. Water everywhere. In the water stands a tall stick. On its top an eagle’s nest. The eagle shares his home with a wolf, a coyote, a panther, a prairie falcon, a hawk, and a condor. When the animals look out of their nest, the only thing they can see is water. Water everywhere.

Sequestered up in the tower, the eagle felt cramped. He begrudged sharing his home. The coyote had too many fleas, the condor was loud and obnoxious, and the panther was just too big for the nest. Something had to be done. But where else could they go? There was only water everywhere.

One morning, the eagle was struck by an idea. They would create land. He called over his neighbor, a duck. This duck wasn’t the brightest. The eagle told the duck he could have a special prize if he would dive down under the sea and bring back some earth. The duck eagerly dove into the water, but the journey was too much for him and he died before reaching his goal.

The eagle decided to cash in a favor. His other duck neighbor owed him one. The eagle sent this duck off on the same perilous expedition. He was much stronger and reached the bottom! But as soon as he did, his strength gave way and he too perished.

The eagle was saddened. He had no more duck neighbors to send to their deaths. Fortunately, the body of the second duck rose out of the water with dirt on his foot. The eagle quickly collected the dirt and put his genius plan in motion, making a mixture and placing it in the water.

All day the animals watched. Nothing. Still water everywhere. Suddenly, the stuff exploded over the water, covering it. The eagle wanted to be rid of his unwanted guests right then and there, but they were wary of this new land. The eagle sighed under his breath and agreed to wait for the land to be tested.

The eagle told the other animals to go down and bring back some dirt. Then they slept. In the morning, the eagle told the wolf to shout. The wolf shouted and the earth fell away! Again, there was water everywhere. Disappointed but not deterred, the eagle took the pieces of earth from the nest and repeated his same process. Things happened just as before, first nothing, then earth spread over everything and they went to bed.

The next morning, the eagle told the wolf to shout again. He did it three times. The earth shook, but it remained. The coyote shouted too, his loudest cry and the earth shook only a little.

The eagle was very pleased. Near his home there had formed a lake. He led all the animals out of the nest to the lake and proclaimed it their new home.

Source:

Mircea Eliade "From Primitives to Zen": THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD

Psychosexual Theory

Sigmund Freud

In another of my classes, I just learned about theories of human development. One of those theories is that of Sigmund Freud. Freud believed that throughout our lives we are always driven by sexual desires. In Calasso, it seems that every story about a god has been the conquest of a woman. These gods are given entirely to gratifying their sexual impulses. We read about rape after rape after rape, each god lusting after every beautiful women they see. The carnality of the gods is a level I would call psycho-sexual. While I don’t really agree with Freud’s theory for humans, it definitely seems it could be applied to gods of Calasso or mythology as a whole.

My Tree

This is my tree and me. I picked the particular tree after some debate because I could wrap my arms around this tree in a big bear hug. I like hugs quite a bit. Real hugs, like bear hugs. None of that awkward side grabbing stuff. Since beginning my college experience I've had very few hugs. I figure the tree doesn't get very many hugs either, so we could both get some benefit.

A big bear hug also seems like it would establish a better connection between me and the tree. More of a connection to the environment. I’ll admit, I didn't spend enough time hugging my tree to hear any stories from it. But there is stories to be found everywhere. If you talk to someone and actually listen to what they say, chances are you will hear a story. Every melody sings of emotion. The constellations of the night sky hint of mythical characters from ages past. The life of every animal, no matter how mundane, is a ballad. There’s a tale behind every feature of the landscape. The lawns of campus tell the story of thousands of footsteps.

I’m sure my tree has a story. It was probably planted quite a while ago, maybe even before my parents walked this very campus. It has been the silent witness of many things; crimes, romances, the laughter among friends. It’s probably even been hugged before, once upon a time.

 But this time there’s proof.

Versions of the Story

How many times have we been told to hear the other side of the story? To not jump to conclusions until we have heard all the versions and gathered all the possible facts? How many times as children did we get in trouble and when it came time to give an account, all parties were asked to tell their stories? Many times, I would guess.

The problem arises though, that when we listen to all stories we are left with so many versions. How can we possibly know which really happened or if any of it really happened at all? Does it matter if we find out which is true?

In the opening chapter of The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony we are presented with many different versions of the story of Europa and Zues. These variations probably come from the inaccuracy of oral tradition. Every time a story is retold, details can be lost or added due to the fallibility of the teller’s memory.

An example of a mixing up of the story of Europa and Zeus.

We were asked in our last class to try to recall our earliest memory. I have had difficulty with this, as I have many possible memories and very little idea of their relative time. I have also heard many stories of my early childhood, and now find it difficult to determine which of the images in my head have been imagined to fit a particular story and which are real memories. I may have a few scattered recollections of my family’s move to my childhood home when I was two and these would probably be my earliest memories. But I have also heard many stories about this time, and these pictures could have come from them.

How can I really know? And does it matter? Regardless of where these memories come from, they have become a part of who I am, my history.

"Only Memory Pictures"

There are many treasured pictures

hung on Memory’s wall,

But the scenes of happy childhood

are the fairest ones of all.

I can see the rustic cottage,

the fields of golden grain,

The mill and the old red schoolhouse

beside the shady lane;

I see the roses blooming

in fragrance by the door;

And the little blue-eyed baby

playing on the kitchen floor.

Only Memory’s pictures

that now I recall

From cherished scenes of gladness,

they come to bless us all.

Only the dreams of a childhood,

gone forever more,

Only Memory’s pictures

of those happy days of yore!

I can see my loving mother

smiling on me there,

And the kindly face of father

as his goodnight kiss I share.

By the fireside with her knitting,

is grandma, bent and gray;

And hark! there’s the old clock ticking

the fleeting hours away.

Ah! these are childhood’s visions

that cheer the lonely heart;

Bringing Memory’s sweetest pictures,

that from life can ne’er depart.