nativity
Born in darkness, born in rain
Rainbow cradle where the babe was laid
Born of the Earth, of the Universe
Wrapped in a cloud, the baby cried
Woman and Man, they brought the child
To this place, to my backyard
In my yard, she played
Tumbled among the tumbleweeds
Pricked her fingers on the yucca's spikes
Chased the ravens and the snakes
She bled into the earth, once, twice
At this mesa, the center of the world
Adult too soon, she wed the sun
Bore him twins, Monster Slayer
And the Child Born of Water
Changing Woman, she lived here
Venus
It wasn't much to look at; a featureless, non-descript molding from clay, kiln fired, unglazed, undecorated. No bigger than a fist, the little statuette was slab-legged and pot-bellied. Pendulous breasts hung over the mounded stomach; plum bobs of fecundity pointing toward her pubis. Her formless face looks down at breasts, belly, obviously exaggerated female features; a silent contemplation of what made her special. Who knows how many of them were made, countless little goddesses of fertility? A faceless, nameless god of her time with feet of clay—any woman, every woman, no woman; we call her the Venus of Willendorf.
Thanks, Susan.
It's a nice juxtaposition with Sail's Venus. Two views of femininity.
Damn, this is a good topic.
Liese, that was gorgeous. Going to go dig out my mythbook again. There was this one pinnacle of rock, somewhere, that has a Spiderwoman attached to it. She was a bit of a tragic villainess, iirc. I loved that story.
The thing I like about the Venus of Willendorf is that all, and I mean all, the earliest experiments with fired clay figurines were females. It's all that's been found in the earliest kiln sites in Europe. Men weren't such a big deal, then. Stick it in your eye, Adam!
According to the people at Terra Studios where I got my dragon Bruce, it's traditional to include a unique little "kiln god" with every firing. Some anthropomorphic, most at least zoomorphic. They don't show up in this picture, but they are displayed on the rail in front of their pottery building.
Stick it in your eye, Adam!
Damn right. I'm thinking along the lines of, yo, Fig Leaf Boy! Just eat the apple and shut up, you passive-aggressive dimwit.....
Stick it in your eye, Adam!
Oh, I know. This story is all, she was this amazing baby that they found (she's not even credited with specific male parentage, she just exists) and she grew up really fast, and then she had her first period, and they created this ritual, and then she had her second period, and they created that ritual. The sun doesn't even get to impregnate her directly; it happens via a stream, thus the whole Child Born of Water thing.
Her twins are male, but then they spend all their time chasing after their absentee and potentially adulterous father and well, slaying monsters.
I barely know the stories, and of course, there are all these differing versions, what with the oral tradition and all, but they're just so lovely.
It's all so very definitely matriarchal. And the whole society really, really is. I was (and continue to be) startled by the expectations of me as the female head of household.
