Penelope’s story:
All my life there’s been a man around telling me what to do as if my only reason for existing was to fulfill his needs. Like my uncle who gave me away to some arrogant ugly man living on a boring little island. Then, once he’d collected his reward, my husband quite easily abandoned me and our child just to go off in search of glory. Could Odysseus or anyone else really believe that for 20 years I’d continue to be faithful to a man who preferred war to his family? That I’d think my life was so insignificant that I had nothing better to do than to weave and wait?
Then, ten years after the war had finished, everyone assumed Odysseus was dead since he hadn’t returned home. That’s when the vultures starting arriving. Although I was a queen, in a world of machos, women have no power.
At one point I had 108 suitors and decided the best way to manipulate them was by sleeping with all of them (obviously not simultaneously). It gave me a sense of balance because now my husband and I finally were on the same level—we were both unfaithful cheats.
And the whole story about me unravelling my tapestry every night just to be faithful to Odysseus was a joke. The only reason I held my suitors off was because I didn’t want another husband to sap me of my independence.
I knew Odysseus was still alive. I’d been instructed by the Moirai not to cut the threads from my weaving as it would also cut Odysseus’ life. He’d managed to survive all those dangerous adventures only because every day for 20 years I continued to weave, unravel, and reweave again the tapestry of his life. Only once he was back in Ithaca, Odysseus showed no joy nor gratitude in being reunited with his family. He was always belittling Telemachus saying that his son would never be the great man his father was. And despite Odysseus’ being dismissive with me during the day, at night he demanded that I fulfil his petty sexual needs. He was a lousy lover and maybe that’s why, jealous of my suitors, he had them all killed leaving their blood everywhere. And in his typical way, instead of cleaning up his own mess, Odysseus had my maids do the cleaning for him. His lack of respect for others totally disgusted me. So I stopped weaving and cut my threads. A few days later Oysseus died. I didn’t feel at all guilty but I understood that, thanks to the vultures, my life was now in danger. And, since everyone wanted to believe that Telegonus was responsible for Odysseus’ death, his life was in danger, too. Telegonus, Telemachus, and I had no choice but to sail towards Aeaea, Circe’s island.
Circe was relieved to see her son alive. And, although hesitant at first, Circe welcomed Telemachus and me. Having lived with Odysseus for a year and having been a victim herself of his ego and rage, she knew exactly the pain my heart had born.
Thanks to Circe’s magic, Aeaea was well protected so for the first time in years I felt relaxed. Circe not only let me use the loom Daedalus had made for her, she also taught me much about the magic of plants. But the real magic came from Circe’s Synergy & Solidarity. For the first time in my life, I finally felt accepted as I was and that it was ok for me to be me.
When Circe understood that she was in love with my son and I understood that I was in love with her son, we had a long talk. Both our sons had been fathered by Odysseus and it seemed weird to be in love with the son of a man we’d slept with. But Circe said there could be no shame in loving for wasn’t love the greatest gift one being could give to another? Furthermore, wasn’t it some kind of divine justice that the man who’d broken our hearts had left behind sons to mend them?
Now, mended and reborn, we had a chance to live the life we’d always wanted to.
Athena, feeling guilty about all the damage she’d done to my family, offered Telegonus an empire in the west where the gods were trying to expand their kingdom. So Telegonus and I quickly married and headed towards the area now known as Italy. Here our son, Italos, was born.
Circe and Telemachus also wanted liberation from the past. My son had no desire to claim his father’s kingdom but, like his father, he wanted to travel. And Circe, oh my, she was no longer a witch but a kitten who loved to purr. For the first time in her life, thanks to my son, she experienced a man’s sincere love (this made me so proud to be his mom). Telemachus’ love meant more to her than being a goddess. That’s why she decided to do something revolutionary for a divinity. For the love of my son, Circe decided to give up her immortality.
Circe’s the best friend I’ve ever had. And the perfect wife for my son.
(to be continued)
Who were the Moirai, the Three Fates of Greek Mythology?
The Narrative Within 