by Cynthea Jones 
A myth is a story that never happened, and is always happening. Will you let go of form and live in faith? Learn the ways you shine, stand firm in your integrity, choose what you will give your soul to, and perhaps leave room for a little divine intervention – whether the source of that divinity is without or within? The Mysteries of Diana’s Grove will spend a year re-telling, re-storying, re-living this myth into life in our own lives. Will you join us? Visit dianasgrove.com to find out how to be a part of the re-making of this old tale. In some ways a very traditional telling, yes…but be prepared for some surprises as the year unfolds, after all…
For us it has been established, beyond all doubt, that all sincere requests will be answered, but the form is always unexpected.
Don't all of our stories begin before we are born? Atalanta's story did. Her fate was cast when she was in her mother's womb. Her father greatly desired a child, but that babe would have to be a boy. Atalanta decided to be a girl.
Her father, the king, wanted a boy so badly that his mind and heart made no room for any other possibility. During the queen's pregnancy, all of his plans were for his son-to-be. Expectations. Narrow expectations. He wanted a son to inherit his kingdom. He wanted a son so that he could hold tight to the land that he loved. He didn't want to sacrifice a bit of that land for a daughter's dowry. Atalanta was born on a cold January night, and she was not her father's son. King Iasus called a huntsman to the castle. When the queen fell asleep, exhausted after the labor of birth, her husband stole the babe from her breast and told the huntsman to take Atalanta into the woods and leave her. The huntsman did as he was told.
He went into the cold and prayed to Artemis. The huntsman knew Artemis well. He lived surrounded by her beauty, for his work was in the forest. Artemis is the protector of all things wild, and of women at the time of childbirth. The huntsman prayed that Artemis would appear to take the baby from him, and save him from committing this unbearable act. She did not.
Still in prayer he walked and walked, far deeper into the woods than he had gone before. He stumbled upon the mouth of a deep cave. Hopeless and helpless, he took the baby inside. He gathered wood and made a fire. With twigs and leaves, prayers and tears, he made a nest and left the baby there. The cave was the home of a great bear who had recently lost one of her twin cubs. The grieving mother bear ambled to the fire and found the newborn. Being wiser than King Iasus, and not as attached to form, she claimed the human babe as her own.
Atalanta grew up with the bears. She learned the ways of the wild, and she learned to be fast and fierce. She raced with the deer and tussled with her bear-cub brother. She loved her bear mother and accepted that she was different from those that she called family. She grew up, as children do, even wild children in the woods.
When she was seven and ever-so-confident, she ran far away from her cave home just for the thrill of running. She ran so far that she encountered a kind of animal she had never seen before – two-legged, pale, hairless – she had seen such a face when she herself looked into the still water. She was fascinated and her fascination drew her close. The hunting party saw her; a naked, dirty little girl with wild blond hair. They saw her run off into the woods, fast as a deer, fast as lightning. They set up camp. Their intention was to capture her...for her own good of course. Isn't that what you would do?
Atalanta learned the peoples’ language, that was easy for her, but their customs were strange and uncomfortable. Stiff and pointless. She had no gift for tidiness, no aptitude for servitude. The expectations of that culture for girls and women did not include running and hunting. She passed her time nonetheless, learning quickly the ways of people and, regardless of custom, she continued to run. She ran every day. Soon she was asked to be a messenger and run between the villages. Rumors spread. She was something to talk about, a marvel with awkward ways and knowledge of the wood so deep and instinctual that even the most seasoned hunter asked her advice...when no one was looking. Years passed and Atalanta grew up, as children do, even children who dream of the past and wake up plotting an independent future.
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 Mystery School 2009: Atalanta
The Story about vows we make . . . to ourselves.
|  When she was fourteen, she knew it was time to leave the band of hunters and their families. She knew what she didn't want but not what she did. To run, yes. And she wanted the company of her own kind, people who did not ask her to deny the animal power that most humans pretend does not even exist. She had heard rumors of a great oracle. She went to find the oracle’s temple and hear the kernel of her future. While there, she found an altar to Artemis. In those woods, she dedicated herself to the Goddess of the Wild. She vowed never to marry, always to run, never to betray the magic of her swiftness no matter the gift she might gain by being untrue to herself. Those were her sacred vows.
Atalanta stayed with the dedicants of Artemis and learned the ways of a mystical life. Magic, mystery, the ways of the divine – she found herself better suited to a spiritual path than a domestic one. If you can understand the spirit of nature, you will understand the nature of spirit. She served her community by hunting and bringing home game in honor of the Huntress-Goddess. Her skills as a hunter were almost equal to her fleetness as a runner.
A request came to the temple of Artemis. A mighty Caledonian boar was ravaging the countryside. The people needed help, they asked for prayers to be offered to Artemis. Their prayers were answered, but the form was unexpected. Atalanta, a priestess of Artemis, came to help. Help they wanted, yes, but not in this form. For a woman to take part in the hunting party was heresy. Meleager, leader of his clan, was a handsome man. Strong and fair, he found this huntress enchanting. He invited her to join the hunt despite the protests of the old men of the clan. Meleager stood his ground. Enchanted he was, and so was she. At times, you can feel fate in your belly. She knew she was, at last, in the right place and with the right person.
Off they went and, in that hunt, Atalanta tracked the boar. She threw the spear. She drew first blood. Meleager finished the kill. He brought home the prize, not only meat but also relief from destruction and terror. At the feast, he broke the stick of tradition. He offered the boar’s skin – the honor of the hunt – to Atalanta. His uncles, representing the older generation of the tribe, were outraged. When the feasting was done and all had left, his uncles challenged him to a battle. He didn't want to fight but they would not accept peace. He fought. He won. He killed his mother's brothers. His uncles dead, his future vanished. His mother – they always said she was a witch – with great ceremony laid the log of his life on the fire. In so doing, she ended her son's life and, with great regret, set him free. He became smoke. Atalanta, who knew loss well, grieved for this loss as she had never grieved before.
Reputation. Word travels. A king named lasus heard stories of this amazing young woman who looked exactly like the wife he lost so many years before. He knew she was his daughter and he wanted her back. He invited her home and, in her grief, she went. Curious. She wanted to collect the first piece of her story, the piece she did not have.
Atalanta returned to the home she never knew. The king, with so much behind him, was delighted at her return. After a brief time of joy, he asked her to marry. A dowry was no longer of concern. The marriage of such a daughter – so beautiful and also a legend –would be a marriage of kingdoms. The sort of marriage that could make the old king’s life whole. A grandchild, perhaps the heir he had always wanted…but Atalanta would not marry. He pleaded. They argued and finally she said, “I will race any suitor. If he wins, I will marry him. If he loses, he will give up his life.” Atalanta thought such a contract would assure that there would be no suitors. She was wrong.
Young men ran and young men died. If the consequences of losing had been any less, she would have had to race every man in the kingdom and the kingdoms beyond but still, she could not believe that anyone would take such a dare. Even when they did, she could not break her vow and lose…not even to save a life and end a travesty. In the midst of all this turmoil, she met Hippomenes, the finest athlete of her country, who was asked to judge the first race. They became friends. As months passed, Atalanta ran and ran again. Hippomenes was her only friend, her companion. . .
The story ends when she must race Hippomenes, her friend and lover. He cannot live without taking up the challenge and trying to win his one great love. She cannot race and cause his death. At times, when there is no mortal solution, the immortals get involved. Prayer, smoke, golden apples that are other than they appear to be, a race, a vow…all I will tell you is this: For us it has been established, beyond all doubt, that all sincere requests will be answered. But the form is always unexpected.
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Links |
The Story of Atalanta |