The other night I couldn’t sleep. The night was crisp and clear. The stars shone brightly, and the moon bathed the garden in a pale silver wash. I decided that here, clearly, was a night for a midnight walk along the beach and a paddle in the sea. I drove my dog and myself to a local beach, where the tide was out leaving a beach as smooth and hard as a billiard table. We walked to the water and slowly made our way along the edge of the gentle waves. The sea was so calm and still, not just the moon, but the stars could be seen trapped in its inky depths.
And as we walked, I talked to my dog. I told him the stories of the stars, of the constellations and the gods they were named after. I told him about Orion the hunter, whose thirst for hunting led to his death by a scorpion, and Pegasus, who carries lightning for Zeus. We spoke of Cygnus, the swan created to celebrate Helen of Troy’s beauty and Cassiopeia whose boast over her own beauty lead to a punishment of being tied to a sky chair for eternity. I pointed out Andromeda who was due to be sacrificed because of her mother, Cassiopeia’s boasting and of Perseus, who rescued Andromeda.
It struck me, then, as I know it has struck many, many people before that there are big similarities in the god myths of different countries. I have recently read Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology and Stephen Fry’s Mythos, both of which give a retelling of some god myths. In these there is the story of the girl Hel of Norse mythology who is queen of the underworld, as she is half alive and half dead. In Egyptian mythology Osiris (who incidentally is also the god of beer… and other less important things like new life) or Anubis rule the dead. In Greek it is Hades, in Roman it is Pluto, in Celtic mythology Arawn and even in the more geographically remote South Americas the Aztec had Mictlāntēuctli (do not ask me to pronounce that one!) and the folk god El Tío. This suggests there are common themes running through the stories of the gods of many different cultures.
I know very little about gods and comparative mythology, but the stars that night got me thinking. Do we as people make gods of things that we admire? The themes seem to include those that we may as human hold up to be valuable. Such as gods of war and power like Thor, or Zeus, who are known for defending and protecting their own. There are tales of beauty and femininity such as Hathor and Freya and of the great wisdom of Isis or Athena. To ancient communities the goddesses of hunting like Diana, Artemis or Flidais must have been essential. And in many myths, there is the god in charge – the father figure such as Ra or Zeus or Odin. So maybe the myths are stories of what we wished life on earth could be like.
However, many of these gods possess qualities that we do not hold up to be quite so virtuous in our culture! There is the trickster Loki in Norse mythology or Anansi in some African myths. Both of these do have redeeming features of a certain intelligence. There is the capriciousness of Thor or Ares, who seem to both want to fight first and ask questions later and there is the jealousy of the innocent or beautiful who are sacrificed like Psyche or Baldur. This suggests the realm of gods is not quite so just as we might hope. This could be because our culture has changed, and we no longer see the virtue in these traits. Or it could be because stories about gods who are virtuous and all powerful may become rather boring without an antagonist. And maybe gods and goddesses of myths are less about what we want to idolise and are simply what we see in people; a way to understand our human condition.
Of course, down there on the beach it was easy to imagine how people could use the stars as a start of a story. The air was sharp and singing with the cold, in a way I can imagine it has for many cultures and many years. The stars sent forth their familiar lights, guiding my path as they have done for others for centuries. I found the pole star and turned towards it knowing that would direct my path home. Before we left the beach, I had to find Canis Major and Sirius, the dog star.
I pointed to Sirius and told my dog, how one day it came to earth and called to all the dogs of earth, including a certain 101 dalmatians, to join it in the skies (if you have not read Dodie Smith’s The Starlight Barking – you should!). And as we left the beach I wondered; what would the gods of dogs be like? Would they take the shape of dogs, or of people, or other animals? Would they be cruel and capricious? Would they show loyalty and protection, things we as humans do associate with dogs? If not, what would be the best characteristic for a dog god? Maybe there would be a god of the human death who keeps dogs like Greyfriars Bobby and Hackiko in place? Maybe there would be a doggess of protection, who welcomed Gelert and Guinefort. Or maybe these things are revered less to dogs that to human perceptions of dogs. Instead there would be the dog who could turn to a rabbit as it chose to aid a hunt; a god whose nose could smell everything from all around the world; or a dog who could hear the cry of food begging to be eaten
But of course, I am limited in this. I am but a person and can never, no matter how much I try, understand the deepest desires of a dog. So maybe we should turn to the hound at our side and ask What is your view on this?
Just a postscript. – I went home to my cats, Odin, Apollo and Artemis. They of course have no gods but themselves.
And as we walked, I talked to my dog. I told him the stories of the stars, of the constellations and the gods they were named after. I told him about Orion the hunter, whose thirst for hunting led to his death by a scorpion, and Pegasus, who carries lightning for Zeus. We spoke of Cygnus, the swan created to celebrate Helen of Troy’s beauty and Cassiopeia whose boast over her own beauty lead to a punishment of being tied to a sky chair for eternity. I pointed out Andromeda who was due to be sacrificed because of her mother, Cassiopeia’s boasting and of Perseus, who rescued Andromeda.
It struck me, then, as I know it has struck many, many people before that there are big similarities in the god myths of different countries. I have recently read Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology and Stephen Fry’s Mythos, both of which give a retelling of some god myths. In these there is the story of the girl Hel of Norse mythology who is queen of the underworld, as she is half alive and half dead. In Egyptian mythology Osiris (who incidentally is also the god of beer… and other less important things like new life) or Anubis rule the dead. In Greek it is Hades, in Roman it is Pluto, in Celtic mythology Arawn and even in the more geographically remote South Americas the Aztec had Mictlāntēuctli (do not ask me to pronounce that one!) and the folk god El Tío. This suggests there are common themes running through the stories of the gods of many different cultures.
I know very little about gods and comparative mythology, but the stars that night got me thinking. Do we as people make gods of things that we admire? The themes seem to include those that we may as human hold up to be valuable. Such as gods of war and power like Thor, or Zeus, who are known for defending and protecting their own. There are tales of beauty and femininity such as Hathor and Freya and of the great wisdom of Isis or Athena. To ancient communities the goddesses of hunting like Diana, Artemis or Flidais must have been essential. And in many myths, there is the god in charge – the father figure such as Ra or Zeus or Odin. So maybe the myths are stories of what we wished life on earth could be like.
However, many of these gods possess qualities that we do not hold up to be quite so virtuous in our culture! There is the trickster Loki in Norse mythology or Anansi in some African myths. Both of these do have redeeming features of a certain intelligence. There is the capriciousness of Thor or Ares, who seem to both want to fight first and ask questions later and there is the jealousy of the innocent or beautiful who are sacrificed like Psyche or Baldur. This suggests the realm of gods is not quite so just as we might hope. This could be because our culture has changed, and we no longer see the virtue in these traits. Or it could be because stories about gods who are virtuous and all powerful may become rather boring without an antagonist. And maybe gods and goddesses of myths are less about what we want to idolise and are simply what we see in people; a way to understand our human condition.
Of course, down there on the beach it was easy to imagine how people could use the stars as a start of a story. The air was sharp and singing with the cold, in a way I can imagine it has for many cultures and many years. The stars sent forth their familiar lights, guiding my path as they have done for others for centuries. I found the pole star and turned towards it knowing that would direct my path home. Before we left the beach, I had to find Canis Major and Sirius, the dog star.
I pointed to Sirius and told my dog, how one day it came to earth and called to all the dogs of earth, including a certain 101 dalmatians, to join it in the skies (if you have not read Dodie Smith’s The Starlight Barking – you should!). And as we left the beach I wondered; what would the gods of dogs be like? Would they take the shape of dogs, or of people, or other animals? Would they be cruel and capricious? Would they show loyalty and protection, things we as humans do associate with dogs? If not, what would be the best characteristic for a dog god? Maybe there would be a god of the human death who keeps dogs like Greyfriars Bobby and Hackiko in place? Maybe there would be a doggess of protection, who welcomed Gelert and Guinefort. Or maybe these things are revered less to dogs that to human perceptions of dogs. Instead there would be the dog who could turn to a rabbit as it chose to aid a hunt; a god whose nose could smell everything from all around the world; or a dog who could hear the cry of food begging to be eaten
But of course, I am limited in this. I am but a person and can never, no matter how much I try, understand the deepest desires of a dog. So maybe we should turn to the hound at our side and ask What is your view on this?
Just a postscript. – I went home to my cats, Odin, Apollo and Artemis. They of course have no gods but themselves.
