Demeter and Persephone - Part 1
The first time I realized that stories got changed and adapted to the needs of current culture was in college. I’d taken a class on Arthurian legend. At first, I was disillusioned to learn that the first historical mention of ‘King Arthur’ was by the historian Nennius in the 9th century. It was hardly a paragraph and damnit, I wanted it to be real! The grain of truth was little more than a grain.
It took me a few years to understand how amazing it was that the story evolved and traveled from Britain to France and back again as it was adapted to the values of the time. Always different, but always compelling.
This story is one of six in my new book, The Storytellers. King Arthur was claimed for Christianity, despite its Roman roots. I thought Pagans deserved some updates on the Greek myths.
I hope you like it.
Surely you know the story of Demeter and Persephone? No? Then let me tell you.
The goddess Demeter was she who made the grain grow and carefully managed the weather and the rainfall. The goddess nurtured not just the grain but all plants useful to humans. Her hand lay upon all that mortals cultivated and we were grateful for her help.
But Demeter’s true pride was her beautiful daughter - and aren’t all daughters beautiful to their mothers? The child’s name was Persephone. While her mother watched over the grain, she preferred flowers.
For nearly all the daylight hours, Persephone wandered their secret valley where her mother had hidden her from the other gods. She spent her time putting her nose to blossoms, lying among them, or plucking bouquets to bring to Demeter when she came home from her labors.
For a few months, Demeter had, quite against her better judgement, allowed Persephone to remain alone in the sheltered valley where they lived instead of accompanying her mother. The goddess wanted to keep her daughter safe from the eyes of the male Olympians because she had seen how they all looked at her daughter. They would take Persephone from her if they could, and Demeter had to protect her at all cost! Persephone didn’t seem to understand why they lived so far from Mount Olympus.
The day when everything went wrong was long and warm. But then under Demeter’s hand, all days were a perfect, endless succession of sunshine and just enough rain to water the mortal’s crops.
Demeter felt an unexpected surge of panic as the sun started to set and she turned for home, as if her daughter had wandered off and she just didn’t know it yet. The goddess regretted leaving her daughter alone.
She wanted to hold Persephone close again. Is this not the nature of motherhood?
“I’m here!” Demeter called as her feet touched the ground. Her eyes flicked about, searching for the flash of Persephone's white dress.
The goddess didn’t notice the crushed grass and flowers strewn across the earth, the stems crunching under her feet. She did not see the strange gouges in the earth or the raw, bare patch of soil at the north end. Perhaps it was a form of magic, or perhaps she was simply too intent on holding her child to notice.
When there was no answer, Demeter presumed Persephone was being willful as daughters often become. This was quite unacceptable. Demeter looked in all the places where Persephone might be but it was as if the ground had swallowed her up.
Demeter became frightened as she searched, calling out again and again. Had she been a mortal, her voice would have become raw and thin. Instead, her voice sang off the mountains, tumbled stones into the valleys, and blew across lakes and rivers until the boats that rode them capsized.
Persephone did not answer.
“Where is my daughter?” Demeter had at last realized her child was truly missing. She had always known something bad would happen. Knew it. If Persephone had wandered from the safety of their home, one of the gods could have found her.
“I should never have left her alone!” Which is the cry of mothers everywhere as their children continue their path toward adulthood.
So, she set out to find Persephone.
Demeter traveled the earth looking into every valley, every cave, and under every tree where a girl might be hidden.
However, while she searched, Demeter didn’t notice she was neglecting her divine duties. Weeks and months passed and the world became cold because she did not warm it. The mortals were not prepared for cold because it had never happened before. They burned more and more wood to keep from freezing, and the hillsides slowly became bare of trees as smoke filled the biting air.
Demeter did not notice.
Their usual clothing was too thin for the cold and the men trying to work the fields shivered, the bare feet of the children shining pale and blueish-white.
Demeter did not notice.
Grain could not grow in the cold and so the animals began to starve. The mortals were not prepared for famine. It have never happened before.
Demeter did not notice.
She could think only of her daughter. The little girl who had put her arms around her mother's neck, squeezing tight, was gone.
What Demeter did see were the dry and dead flowers, wilted in sadness for the loss of Persephone. The goddess thought the world must be mourning with her, for the goddess of the grain could see no further than her grief.
Demeter would not give up her search. Would any mother?
One day, in her exhaustion, Demeter walked alone in human form along a country road. A small house with an enclosed garden emerged from the dusty haze as she walked. The cottage had smoke spiraling up from a chimney and it looked inviting. Xenia, the law of hospitality most sacred to the father god Zeus himself, meant that Demeter could knock on any door and be cared for even if her hosts had very little themselves.
The goddess called, “I’m in need of rest. Could I stop here for the night?”
A woman emerged, a child at her side. The little girl hugged her upper body as she shivered, peering around her mother’s hip. Still, the goddess saw nothing of the mortal’s suffering, or of their need. For a moment, Demeter thought she saw Persephone instead, but no, her own daughter was much taller.
The woman invited Demeter to a seat by a low fire. If the goddess saw her bite her lip as she put the last of the wood on the flames, she gave no consideration to the implication.
A baby lay in the cradle near the low fire, wrapped in a blanket against the chill room. The girl handed Demeter a cup, warm, steaming, and smelling of mint.
Demeter nodded at the baby. “A boy or girl?”
“A boy.” His mother replied.
Demeter leaned back in the chair, as the girl placed warm water before her, so she could clean her hands and face.
“Why do you look so sad?” The girl asked.
Demeter replied “I’m looking for my daughter. She’s lost.”
Her little face screwed up in sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
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Demeter nodded and stroked the girl’s hair. It was golden, much like Persephone’s. Her collar bones stood out under the neat braid that fell over her skinny shoulder. Demeter thought briefly that her mother should be feeding the child more.
But then the thought slipped away as Persephone once more filled her mind.
Demeter was impressed with the couple adherence to xenia. She thought to gift them something in return. But for this magic, she needed ashes on the hearth. Hours passed and the house grew colder as the fire went out. They had left her the bed and the family slept on the floor nearby.
Demeter did not notice.
In the stillness, she lifted the sleeping baby from his cradle. She cuddled him for a moment. It had been so long since Persephone had been a baby.
Then she began the magic by murmuring charms over the infant. Opening his wrappings, Demeter placed the little one on the ashes of the hearth.
“He’ll get cold!” The little girl protested from her spot on the floor.
The mother cried out, frightened. She scooped up her baby and whirled on Demeter, stepping close to her.
“What kind of guest does this to an innocent child!” She demanded.
Demeter, angry with the woman, allowed her mortal guise to fade. Her divine nature shone, reflecting light onto their thin faces. She replied, “I would have granted him immortality.” Surely any parents would want that for their son!
The woman moaned, “My lady, Demeter! I am sorry! I didn’t know it was you! But… I don’t understand! Haven’t we... offended you in some way?”
Demeter drew her brows together. Why did her hostess think Demeter was offended?
The woman saw only a goddess frowning at her, and collapsed to the floor, bending her body over the baby. “Please, my lady of the grain! Forgive us for whatever we have done! I beg you! We were devout and pious and we don't know why we've been cursed!" She began to cry quietly as her husband and daughter joined her on the floor.
Perhaps it was the magic of a mother's tears but suddenly Demeter could hear all the prayers that the humans had offered her, begging for forgiveness and pleading for the warmth to return and the crops to grow once more. They had been praying for months. For half a year at least.
But she hadn't heard them.
She looked at the family with new eyes, at last seeing the many layers of cloth draped around them and the thinness of their arms. The house was clean and neat, but no herbs or smoked meat hung from the rafters. These mortals who had offered her hospitality were starving.
Demeter hadn’t heard them.
When had she last drawn the warmth of the sun down to the earth? When had she invited the rain to fall and the wheat to grow?
Had she really neglected her duty for so long?
The answer lay before her in the trembling mortals who knelt on their cold, empty hearth.
Demeter struggled to regain her composure. She said, “I will still bless your son for the kindness you have shown. He shall have good fortune throughout his life.”
Then she walked through the wall of the house into the moonlight before the family could look up and see her face.
She had to find Persephone so she could return to her duties. The only places she had not searched was the underworld where she could not go, and the oceans. The oceans were so vast that the mortals would die before she found Persephone. Distasteful as it was, she would have to go to Zeus.
This is an excerpt from The Storytellers. The rest of Demeter’s story will be published next week.
If you’re curious about Paganism/Heathenism/Wicca, please feel free to message me and I’ll be happy to answer questions.
Selina Rifkin, M.S. [Nutrition], LMT, has been Pagan since she was 14 [which was a long time ago] and been to Hades in a handbasket. More than once. This has given her some opinions. She has direct communication with her gods and they’ve always given her answers when she asks. [One does have to ask.] Like most of her generation [X] she’s okay with snark. Most days she tries for good writing. But the snark, and side comments creep in. Be warned.