‘THE BOY AND THE GODDESS’ FROM HOMER’S ‘ODYSEE’ – SLEEP STORY For Grown Ups WITH MUSIC (Female Voice)

 

I Love reading about the gods and goddesses in Greek mythology. I used to think it was all just fantasy. The the Greeks and Romans made up stories to explain how the universe works. Much like religion and modern philosophy does today.

I now think there may be more too it than that. That there are real messages in this tales about the gods and goddess that we need to somehow decode.

What do you think?

In The Boy and The Goddess, we see Goddess Athena visit the son of Odysseus who is trapped on a island wiht the powerful Goddess Calypso. He’s been gone so long Odysseus’s wife and son think he’s dead.

The Goddess Athena visits them to give them hope that he could very well be alive and that they may go looking near a certain island…

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TRANSCRIPT OF ‘THE BOY AND THE GODDESS’

FROM HOMER’S ‘ODYSEE’

 

The Boy and The Goddess

 

Tell me about a complicated man.

Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy, and where he went, and who he met, the pain he suffered in the storms at sea, and how he worked to save his life and bring his men back home.

He failed to keep them safe; poor fools, they ate the Sun God’s cattle, and the god kept them from home.

Now goddess, child of Zeus, tell the old story for our modern times.

All the other Greeks who had survived the brutal sack of Troy sailed safely home to their own wives—except this man alone. Calypso, a great goddess, had trapped him in her cave; she wanted him to be her husband.

When the year rolled round in which the gods decreed he should go home to Ithaca, his troubles still went on.

The man was friendless. All the gods took pity, except Poseidon’s anger never ended until Odysseus was back at home. But now the distant Ethiopians, who live between the sunset and the dawn, were worshiping the Sea God with a feast, a hundred cattle and a hundred rams.

There sat the god, delighting in his banquet. The other gods were gathered on Olympus, in Father Zeus’ palace.

He was thinking of fine, well-born Aegisthus, who was killed by Agamemnon’s famous son Orestes.

He told the deathless gods,

“This is absurd, that mortals blame the gods! They say we cause their suffering, but they themselves increase it by folly. So Aegisthus overstepped: he took the legal wife of Agamemnon, then killed the husband when he came back home. Although he knew that it would doom them all. We gods had warned Aegisthus; we sent down perceptive Hermes, who flashed into sight and told him not to murder Agamemnon or court his wife, Orestes would grow up and come back to his home to take revenge. Aegisthus would not hear that good advice. But now his death has paid all debts.”

Athena looked at him steadily and answered,

“Father, he did deserve to die. Bring death to all who act like him! But I am agonizing about Odysseus and his bad luck. For too long he has suffered, with no friends, sea all around him, sea on every side, out on an island where a goddess lives, daughter of fearful Atlas, who holds up the pillars of the sea, and knows its depths— those pillars keep the heaven and earth apart. His daughter holds that poor unhappy man, and tries beguiling him with gentle words to cease all thoughts of Ithaca; but he longs to see even just the smoke that rises from his own homeland, and he wants to die. You do not even care, Olympian! Remember how he sacrificed to you on the broad plain of Troy beside his ships? So why do you dismiss Odysseus?”

“Daughter!” the Cloud God said,

“You must be joking, since how could I forget Odysseus? He is more sensible than other humans, and makes more sacrifices to the gods. But Lord Poseidon rages, unrelenting, because Odysseus destroyed the eye of godlike Polyphemus, his own son, the strongest of the Cyclopes—whose mother, Thoösa, is a sea-nymph, child of Phorcys, the sea king; and she lay beside Poseidon inside a hollow cave. So now Poseidon prevents Odysseus from reaching home but does not kill him. Come then, we must plan: how can he get back home? Poseidon must give up his anger, since he cannot fight alone against the will of all the gods.”

Athena’s eyes lit up and she replied,

“Great Father, if the blessed gods at last will let Odysseus return back home, then hurry, we must send our messenger, Hermes the giant-slayer. He must swoop down to Ogygia right away and tell the beautiful Calypso we have formed a firm decision that Odysseus has waited long enough. He must go home. And I will go to Ithaca to rouse the courage of his son, and make him call a meeting, and speak out against the suitors who kill his flocks of sheep and longhorn cattle unstoppably. Then I will send him off to Pylos and to Sparta, to seek news about his father’s journey home, and gain a noble reputation for himself.”

With that, she tied her sandals on her feet, the marvelous golden sandals that she wears to travel sea and land, as fast as wind.

The Goddess took the heavy bronze-tipped spear she uses to tame the ranks of warriors with whom she is enraged.

Then from the mountain down she sped to Ithaca, and stopped outside Odysseus’ court, bronze spear in hand. She looked like Mentes now, the Taphian leader, a guest-friend.

There she found the lordly suitors sitting on hides—they killed the cows themselves— and playing checkers. Quick, attentive house slaves were waiting on them. Some were mixing wine with water in the bowls, and others brought the tables out and wiped them off with sponges, and others carved up heaping plates of meat.

Telemachus was sitting with them, feeling dejected. In his mind he saw his father coming from somewhere, scattering the suitors, and gaining back his honor, and control of all his property.

With this in mind, he was the first to see Athena there. He disapproved of leaving strangers stranded, so he went straight to meet her at the gate, and shook her hand, and took her spear of bronze, and let his words fly out to her.

“Good evening, stranger, and welcome. Be our guest, come share our dinner, and then tell us what you need,” Telemachus said.

He led her in and Pallas followed him.

Inside the high-roofed hall, he set her spear beside a pillar in a polished stand, in which Odysseus kept stores of weapons. Then he led her to a chair and spread a smooth embroidered cloth across the seat, and pulled a footstool up to it.

He sat beside her on a chair of inlaid wood, a distance from the suitors, so their shouting would not upset the stranger during dinner; also to ask about his absent father.

A girl brought washing water in a jug of gold, and poured it on their hands and into a silver bowl, and set a table by them. A deferential slave brought bread and laid a wide array of food, a generous spread.

The carver set beside them plates of meat of every kind, and gave them golden cups.

The cup boy kept on topping up the wine.

The suitors sauntered in and sat on chairs, observing proper order, and the slaves poured water on their hands.

The house girls brought baskets of bread and heaped it up beside them, and house boys filled their wine-bowls up with drink.

They reached to take the good things set before them.

Once they were satisfied with food and drink, 150 the suitors turned their minds to other things— singing and dancing, glories of the feast. A slave brought out a well-tuned lyre and gave it to Phemius, the man the suitors forced to sing for them. He struck the chords to start his lovely song.

Telemachus leaned in close to Athena, so they would not hear, and said,

“Dear guest—excuse my saying this— these men are only interested in music— a life of ease. They make no contribution. This food belongs to someone else, a man whose white bones may be lying in the rain or sunk beneath the waves. If they saw him return to Ithaca, they would all pray for faster feet, instead of wealth and gold and fancy clothes. In fact, he must have died. We have no hope. He will not come back home. If someone says so, we do not believe it. But come now, tell me this and tell the truth….

“Who are you?”

From what city, and what parents? What kind of ship did you here arrive on? What sailors brought you here, and by what route? You surely did not travel here on foot! Here is the thing I really want to know: have you been here before? Are you a friend who visited my father? Many men came to his house. He traveled many places.”

Athena’s clear bright eyes met his.

She said,

“Yes, I will tell you everything. I am Mentes, the son of wise Anchialus, lord of the Taphians, who love the oar. I traveled with my ship and my companions over the wine-dark sea to foreign lands, with iron that I hope to trade for copper in Temese. My ship is in the harbor far from the town, beneath the woody hill. And you and I are guest-friends through our fathers, from long ago—Laertes can confirm it. I hear that fine old man no longer comes to town, but lives out in the countryside, stricken by grief, with only one old slave, who gives him food and drink when he trails back leg-weary from his orchard, rich in vines. I came because they told me that your father was here—but now it seems that gods have blocked his path back home.

“But I am sure that he is not yet dead.”

The wide sea keeps him trapped upon some island, captured by fierce men who will not let him go. Now I will make a prophecy the gods have given me, and I think it will all come true, although I am no prophet. Odysseus will not be gone much longer from his own dear native land, even if chains of iron hold him fast. He will devise a means of getting home. He is resourceful. Tell me now—are you Odysseus’ son? You are so tall! Your handsome face and eyes resemble his. We often met and knew each other well, before he went to Troy, where all the best leaders of Argos sailed in hollow ships. From that time on, we have not seen each other.”

Telemachus was careful as he answered.

“Dear guest, I will be frank with you. My mother says that I am his son, but I cannot be sure, since no one knows his own begetting. I wish I were the son of someone lucky, who could grow old at home with all his wealth. Instead, the most unlucky man alive is said to be my father—since you ask.”

Athena looked at him with sparkling goddess eyes.

“Son of Penelope, you and your sons will make a name in history, since you are so clever. But now tell me this. Who are these banqueters? And what is the occasion? A drinking party, or a wedding feast? They look so arrogant and self-indulgent, making themselves at home. A wise observer would surely disapprove of how they act.”

Telemachus said moodily,

“My friend, since you have raised the subject, there was once a time when this house here was doing well, our future bright, when he was still at home. But now the gods have changed their plans and cursed us, and cast my father into utter darkness. If he had died it would not be this bad— if he had fallen with his friends at Troy, or in his loved ones’ arms, when he had wound the threads of war to end. The Greeks would then have built a tomb for him; he would have won fame for his son. But now, the winds have seized him, and he is nameless and unknown.

“He left nothing but tears for me. I do not weep only for him.”

The gods have given me so many other troubles. All the chiefs of Same, Zacynthus, Dulichium, and local lords, from rocky Ithaca, are courting Mother, wasting our whole house. She does not turn these awful suitors down, nor can she end the courting. They keep eating, spoiling my house—and soon, they will kill me!”

Goddess Athena said in outrage,

“This is monstrous! You need Odysseus to come back home and lay his hands on all those shameless suitors! If only he would come here now and stand right at the gates, with two spears in his hands, in shield and helmet, as when I first saw him! Odysseus was visiting our house, drinking and having fun on his way back from sailing in swift ships to Ephyra to visit Ilus. He had gone there looking for deadly poison to anoint his arrows. Ilus refused, because he feared the gods. My father gave Odysseus the poison, loving him blindly. May Odysseus come meet the suitors with that urge to kill! A bitter courtship and short life for them! But whether he comes home to take revenge, or not, is with the gods. You must consider how best to drive these suitors from your house.”

Come, listen carefully to what I say….

“Tomorrow call the Achaean chiefs to meeting, and tell the suitors—let the gods be witness— ‘All of you, go away! To your own homes!’ As for your mother, if she wants to marry, let her return to her great father’s home. They will make her a wedding and prepare abundant gifts to show her father’s love. Now here is some advice from me for you. Fit out a ship with twenty oars, the best, and go find out about your long-lost father. Someone may tell you news, or you may hear a voice from Zeus, best source of information. First go to Pylos, question godlike Nestor; from there, to Sparta; visit Menelaus.

“He came home last of all the Achaean heroes.”

If you should hear that he is still alive and coming home, put up with this abuse for one more year. But if you hear that he is dead, go home, and build a tomb for him, and hold a lavish funeral to show the honor he deserves, and give your mother in marriage to a man. When this is done, consider deeply how you might be able to kill the suitors in your halls—by tricks or openly.

“You must not stick to childhood; you are no longer just a little boy.”

You surely heard how everybody praised Orestes when he killed the man who killed his famous father—devious Aegisthus? Dear boy, I see how big and tall you are. Be brave, and win yourself a lasting name. But I must go now, on my speedy ship; my friends are getting tired of waiting for me. Remember what I said and heed my words.”

Telemachus was brooding on her words, and said,

“Dear guest, you were so kind to give me this fatherly advice. I will remember. I know that you are eager to be off, but please enjoy a bath before you go, and take a gift with you. A precious treasure that I want to give you as a keepsake to mark our special friendship.”

But the goddess Athena met his gaze and said, “Do not hold me back now. I must be on my way. As for the gift you feel inspired to give me, save it for when I come on my way home and let me give you presents then as well in fair exchange.”

With that, the owl-eyed goddess flew away like a bird, up through the smoke.

She left him feeling braver, more determined, and with his father even more in mind. Watching her go, he was amazed and saw she was a god. Then godlike, he went off to meet the suitors.

They were sitting calmly, listening to the poet, who sang how Athena cursed the journey of the Greeks as they were sailing home from Troy. Upstairs, Penelope had heard the marvelous song. She clambered down the steep steps of her house, not by herself—two slave girls came with her. She reached the suitors looking like a goddess, then stopped and stood beside a sturdy pillar, holding a gauzy veil before her face. Her slave girls stood, one on each side of her. In tears, she told the holy singer,

“Stop, please Phemius! You know so many songs, enchanting tales of things that gods and men have done, the deeds that singers publicize. Sing something else, and let them drink in peace. Stop this upsetting song that always breaks my heart, so I can hardly bear my grief. I miss him all the time—that man, my husband, whose story is so famous throughout Greece.”

Sullen Telemachus said,

“Mother, no, you must not criticize the loyal bard for singing as it pleases him to sing. Poets are not to blame for how things are; Zeus is; he gives to each as is his will. Do not blame Phemius because he told about the Greek disasters. You must know the newest song is always praised the most. So steel your heart and listen to the song. Odysseus was not the only one who did not come back home again from Troy. Many were lost. Go in and do your work. Stick to the loom and distaff. Tell your slaves to do their chores as well. It is for men to talk, especially me. I am the master.”

That startled her.

She went back to her room, and took her son’s uneasy words to heart. She went upstairs, along with both her slaves, and wept there for her dear Odysseus, until Athena gave her eyes sweet sleep.

Throughout the shadowy hall the suitors clamored, praying to lie beside her in her bed. Telemachus inhaled, then started speaking…

“You suitors, you are taking this too far. Let us enjoy the feast in peace. It is a lovely thing to listen to a bard, especially one with such a godlike voice. At dawn, let us assemble in the square. I have to tell you this—it is an order. You have to leave my halls. Go dine elsewhere! Eat your own food, or share between your houses. Or if you think it easier and better to ruin one man’s wealth, and if you think that you can get away with it—go on! I call upon the gods; Zeus will grant vengeance. You will be punished and destroyed, right here!”

He spoke, and they began to bite their lips, shocked that Telemachus would dare to speak so boldly. But Antinous replied, “Telemachus, the gods themselves have taught you such pride, to talk so big and brash in public! May Zeus the son of Cronus never grant you your true inheritance, which is the throne of Ithaca.”

His mind alert and focused, Telemachus replied,

“Antinous, you will not like this, but I have to say, I hope Zeus does give me the throne. Do you deny it is an honorable thing to be a king? It brings the household wealth, and honor to the man. But there are many other great chiefs in sea-girt Ithaca, both old and young. I know that. One of them may seize the throne, now that Odysseus has died. But I shall be at least the lord of my own house and of the slaves that he seized for my benefit.”

Eurymachus replied,

“Telemachus, the gods must choose which of us will be king of Ithaca. But still, I hope you keep your own possessions, and rule your house. May no man drive you out, and seize your wealth, while Ithaca survives. Now, friend, I want to ask about the stranger. Where was he from, what country? Did he say? Where is his place of birth, his native soil? Does he bring news your father will come home? Or did he come here for some other purpose? How suddenly he darted off, not waiting for us to meet him. Yet he looked important.”

Telemachus said soberly,

“Eurymachus, my father is not ever coming home. I do not listen now to any gossip, or forecasts from the psychics whom my mother invites to visit us. The stranger was my father’s guest-friend Mentes, son of wise Anchialus, who rules the Taphians, the people of the oar.”

Those were his words, but in his mind he knew she was a god.

They danced to music and enjoyed themselves till evening, then they went back home to sleep. Telemachus’ bedroom had been built above the courtyard, so it had a view.

He went upstairs, preoccupied by thought. A loyal slave went with him, Eurycleia, daughter of Ops; she brought the burning torches Laertes bought her many years before when she was very young, for twenty oxen. He gave her status in the household, equal to his own wife, but never slept with her, avoiding bitter feelings in his marriage.

She brought the torches now; she was the slave who loved him most, since she had cared for him when he was tiny. Entering the room, he sat down on the bed, took off his tunic, and gave it to the vigilant old woman.

She smoothed it out and folded it, then hung it up on a hook beside his wooden bed, and left the room. She used the silver latch to close the door; the strap pulled tight the bolt. He slept the night there, wrapped in woolen blankets, planning the journey told him by Athena.

THE END

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Dyann Bridges  xoxo