Stupid Cupid

It’s no secret that Cupid and I have this hate/hate thing going on.  Basically, he’s jealous because I’m a much better archer than he is.  Don’t get me wrong, Cupid is an excellent marksman, he needs to be.  You can forget all about that nonsense of his arrows hitting the wrong target, that dude never, I mean never, makes mistakes.  It’s just that I am so much better.

Cupid may be the god of love, but believe me, he doesn’t waste any of it on me.  Not that I care, exactly, but it’s hard to maintain my dignity in front of everyone when he’s making me the butt of his silly little jokes.  He’s the king of snide remarks and there’s always someone who will have a little titter at my expense.  And ever since the infamous golden apples debacle I’ve been a bit sensitive.

Cupid’s always been spiteful.  And capricious.  He’s god of love, but it’s the uncomfortable, burning, irrational kind of love.  He’s the expert on unrequited love too.  That’s his specialty, if he’s feeling particularly bad tempered.

The trouble is, none of us has enough to do these days and this antipathy between us has bloomed like a nasty infection.  We gods have always been prone to petty jealousies and vindictive behaviour, it’s how we are. But, I have to admit this is beginning to wear on my spirits.

So, imagine my delight when I happened to see how you humans have come to depict Cupid.  It’s been some time since I took any notice of the affairs of men and I’m beginning to wish I’d taken a bit more notice sooner.  Honestly, I’ve never laughed so much.  A tiny fat baby looking thing with wings!

Cupid isn’t the biggest of the gods, it’s true, but he’s certainly not a roly poly, pink cheeked baby either.   Like all of us, he’s ridiculously good looking and like all of us, incredibly vain and image conscious. He won’t like this one little bitty bit.

I haven’t decided how I’m going to use this information yet.  I don’t want to stoop to his level and begin making nasty asides or mean comments,  that’s so undignified. But I could let it slip, casually, that I have information he wouldn’t want the rest to know about and maybe it would be better if he kept his remarks to himself from now on.  He may not care to protect my dignity, but still care enough about us divines, even if we’re no longer as important in the affairs of men as we once were, to try and protect his.  Hopefully, this will bring me some respite from his incessant torments. Watch this space.

 

 

 

 

Childbirth

I have a confession to make.  I don’t like being the goddess of childbirth.  I mean, I understand it’s an important role to play and everything.  Childbirth is hazardous, or so I’ve heard, not having gone through it myself.  I’ve watched it though and of course, numerous women have prayed to me for a safe delivery.  I just don’t understand how I, a virgin goddess, became the expert on all things pertaining to such an important time in any woman’s life.

So good old Jupiter just hands me a new job description one day.  Like what the ..?  “Here you go, Diana.  You can look after this for us.”  Apparently, someone decided women needed some protection during childbirth or something.  I forget who, probably some man worried about the safety of his male heir or something like that.  I was really annoyed.  I mean Jupiter never does things like that to Apollo.  Oh no, Apollo just gets to ride around in his chariot and stuff.  Do I sound bitter?  Well, it just rips my tunic the way Apollo always gets to do whatever he likes and I had to take time out from doing my thing to preside over a messy business like childbirth.

It’s not that I’m squeamish, exactly, but you have to admit, it’s pretty brutal.  I just never, you know, felt it, not being the maternal type myself.  My other roles were just so much more … rewarding.  I mean goddess of the hunt! All those arrows and testosterone fuelled men, what’s not to love, right?  Being goddess of the moon, not too bad.  Cupid used to crack a few so-called jokes at my expense.  You know, like “hey Arty, I see you’re just mooning around again”.  So lame.  But otherwise not such a bad job either.

It was a real blast cavorting around in my short tunic, showing off my hot body hunting and running through the woods.   And the glamour of dressing up in my long robes and crown as moon goddess was a nice change of pace.  But childbirth was another game entirely. Not so glamorous.  I suppose if I’m honest, I felt helpless in the face of so much pain with no guarantee of a successful outcome, even with my intervention.

How do you mortals do it?  You put your frail little bodies on the line, enduring the pain to give birth to another tiny mortal.  I’ve watched over millions of births and it never ceases to amaze me.  It is a miracle, even I have to admit that.

“Nothing is born into this world without labour” – Rob Liano

 

An Introduction, of sorts

I suppose you’re wondering about me.  Who am I? What am I doing writing this?  I shall let you in on all of that, but first let me introduce myself.  My name is Diana, goddess of the moon and hunting and also of childbirth, but more of that later.  I’m also known as Artemis, but I prefer Diana.  Cupid,that little slut, calls me Arty. He only does it because he knows I hate it.  I try not to let him see how much it annoys me, but he knows, oh he knows how much it does.

So now you know who I am.  As for why I’m doing this, well, let’s just say eternity is a long time and none of us are as busy as we once were. Having said that, Gaia has successfully rebranded herself for the modern age and is as popular as ever. I think its gone to her head a bit, but don’t tell her I said so.  Very simply,I miss interacting in the affairs of men.  It might seem far fetched to your modern world, but there was a time when I, and all my fellow divines, were very much sought after.  Sometimes, the din of all the prayers and propitiations would all but deafen me.  Now its very quiet here in our small world.  As goddess of the hunt, I’m used to being much more active than I am now.  Truthfully, I’m bored.  Bored, bored, bored!  There is not enough to do and nothing to look forward to.  No smitings, or odysseys or anything in anyway diverting.  So I need a way to fill my time.

One thing I have noticed from observing your funny ways, is how often you seem to find ways to understand and express yourselves…. therapy, journaling, support groups.  You humans do it all.  Us, not so much.  No one here really thinks twice about the why of their actions. Probably why we got such a reputation for being capricious.  Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how un self-aware most of us are.  Or maybe you would.  I’m sure you’ve read the myths. Anyway, I thought ‘why not.  Why not give it a go.  Be open, let it all hang out’ .  After all, what’s the worse that can happen?  It’s not as if Jupiter can fire me, is it?  I suppose he could make my life unpleasant if he wanted to.  But honestly, Jupiter is only really interested in Jupiter.  There was a time when he could throw his weight around and punish us all if he got in a snit, but those days are long gone.

So here’s to us.  You and me.  Not to put any pressure on, but if you ever felt like worshipping me, I’m not going to turn you away. Just saying.  I’m not yet dead, only irrelevant.

“The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men! Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?”      D.H. Lawerence