Beautiful evil... what does that even mean? Truth is, my story has been told by everyone but me. I bet you think I had an insidious box too? Now, I sit here in my field of plenty, looking out upon humanity, knowing that my story has been reduced to boxes, evil deeds and even a mall shop jewellery store. Fact is, I never had a box, nor charm bracelets, and when the self-proclaimed king of the Gods had me created as a scapegoat for a personal vendetta, I never really had a chance. To effectively share my story, I must first explain the events that precipitated my creation.
Here goes…
It turns out Zeus was insecure. Racked by these insecurities, he stole fire from mankind, hiding it on Mount Olympus, then forbade anyone to share the fire with man on earth. He believed that if mankind continued to have control over fire, they would outgrow their reliance upon the Gods. Yes, I said mankind. See, I was the first woman. Prior to my existence was The Golden Age of Man. A time with no women, no sorrows, only peace. So, what did men do during this age? I have no idea, except to say it cannot have been too exciting.
Anyway, I digress. Where was I? Oh yes…the fire on Mount Olympus. Zeus had a cousin and friend named Prometheus (translated as forethought – I’ll get back to that). Prometheus loved mankind, as he was their creator. Feeling bereft for his beloved man, he took it upon himself to steal the fire from Mount Olympus in, of all things, a fennel stalk. Mankind, now reunited with fire, had the ability to cook their meat and no longer fear salmonella. Just kidding. Salmonella, like other illnesses, didn’t occur in the Golden Age. You have to wait for me and my notorious ‘box’ (no euphemisms intended) before sickness gets a mention. They did, however, gain the potential to thrive without dependence upon the Gods, and boy did this anger Zeus.
Zeus, who had a history of overreacting when feeling slighted, decided in retaliation for Prometheus’s disobedience he would chain him to a mountain for (what was meant to be) eternity. Not a sufficient enough punishment you might think? Zeus thought the same thing, so he created an eagle to devour Prometheus’s immortal liver, only for his liver to regenerate overnight and be gorged again, day after day. There’s that overreaction I was talking about. Now back to the translation of Prometheus’s name – Forethought. How did he not predict a response of this magnitude?!
This level of revenge however, did not satisfy Zeus. His most evil punishment was reserved solely for mankind. THE CREATION OF A WOMAN... me, and my mistranslated, notorious box. Before I explain further, I’d like to point out, that within my so-called box of evils, there was disobedience, murder, revenge, thievery and the list goes on. Take a moment to ponder that. Now, back to the story. Zeus requested the collective of divine from Mount Olympus to assist in my creation. To sculpt me from the earth, he called on the skills of his son Hephaestus - the deformed God who was thrown off the edge of Mount Olympus as a baby (again, these deeds pre-dated my creation). Athena (the Goddess of warfare – another ill I apparently unleashed) gifted me not wisdom (for which she is also associated), but shiny trinkets, and a bitchin’ silver gown. Aphrodite bestowed on me such grace that I tormented mankind with desire. Hermes - the trickster God, imparted on me my cunning mind then gave me speech, so that I may enact that deceit. Finally, Zeus’s gift was to give me away, as a bride to Prometheus’ brother, Epimetheus (translated as afterthought – can you see where this is going?).
What about that box? Who gave it to me? It was a storage jar actually. A pithos to be more precise. Now, what would have been the best choice of contents to put in a tall, top heavy, fragile storage jar you might ask? Wine? Grain? Oil? No! Those things would be useful and relatively safe in the likely event of an accidental release. This is Greek mythology however, and I am a woman. Therefore, said pithos must have been filled with all the evils of the world, waiting for the moment to escape their clay captor and plague mankind with torment! And who gave this pithos to me? I don’t know. Maybe it was Eris – the Goddess of strife (again, something that was not supposed to pre-date my creation).
Finally, you may be asking why I chose to open this pithos? Maybe it was because I needed a drink after being married off to Afterthought, and I was expecting wine. Or perhaps it was because historically in literature (and religion) women are the bringer of evils, the weakness of men, the eater of apples. But I pose this question to you. Was it even me who lifted the lid? Could it have been my husband, Epimetheus, a.k.a. Afterthought? For we all know reactiveness rather than proactiveness tends to be the nature of mankind, giving rise to hardships that may have been avoided if Forethought wasn’t chained to a mountain. Sounds like a solid theory, however it is incorrect. A person’s story is best told by them. So let me take you back to the events of that fateful afternoon, when all known evils were said to have been released upon the world bringing the Golden Age of Man to an end.
A super dooper long time ago...
A week of inescapable heat had passed. The kind of heat that saps all energy from your body, leaving you an uncomfortable mess. It was late afternoon and Helios was shining in his full glory. I leaned back against the wide trunk of an oak tree, shading myself under its immense canopy, attempting to capture some respite. In the still dry air, my sweat beading achieved only to dampen my favourite silver dress. I picked up a leaf and examined it. Its vessels creeped out along its surface like veins under the skin. I twisted the petiole between my thumb and fingers. A small ant darted across my hand and I let out a shriek, flicking the leaf away. I laughed to myself that such a small creature can elicit that kind of response. The cicadas were deafening. They had been making a ruckus non-stop for days now. I’m not even sure whether they are still causing the pulsating, high-pitched noise plaguing my brain, or whether my ears are just playing tricks on me.
A new slight breeze caused the leaves of the canopy above me to rustle. I leaned my head back against the trunk. This breeze was cool, refreshing. Eyes closed I breathed in deeply, feeling the new coolness of the air fill every space within my chest. As I sat enjoying this new change, I thought I heard a soft voice call to me, blended amongst the song of the cicadas.
Pandora… Pandora…
I knitted my eyebrows together, in a straining effort to hear more clearly. I pushed the sound of the cicadas into the background. That voice, soft and delicate continued. It was familiar. Who would be seeking me out? Most of the nearby dryads would also be sheltered, escaping the heat.
Pandora… Pandora…
I opened my eyes to see who was calling my name. Not far away from me appeared a giant pithos. I sucked in a breath. That wasn’t there before. Is the voice coming from there? Confusion made me rub my eyes. Perhaps Phantasos was playing tricks on me. Blinking my sight back in to focus, I looked up again. A pithos stood only a short distance from me, on unstable rocky ground. Weird.
The cicadas were quiet. When did they stop chirping? All was silent, except the increasing breeze moving through the leaves, and that voice.
Pandora… Pandora…
I shivered. The cool breeze turned into a frigid wind, blowing dirt across the landscape, lifting it to stick to my skin. The leaves of the oak, first a slight rustle, were now entire branches swaying. The tree creaking with strain. A shadow slowly spread over the ground, as dark clouds moved across the sky, like a sheet being laid over Gaia. I could smell the sweet scent of approaching rain. I took a deep breath. That would have to be my favourite smell. One drop. Then three. A few droplets found their way through the leaves to land upon my flesh. A few drips turned in to a pattering, an instant later, the clouds opened up, bringing an intense downpour. A distant flash, followed closely by rolling thunder. I heard the voice again. Now an intense cry for help.
Pandora! Pandora!
The voice filled my ears. Was it coming from the pithos? I pulled my legs under me to stand. My hair, not quite wet yet, had started floating in the air. A sudden gust of wind took my balance. I stumbled.
Pandora! Pandora!
A great gale whipped at my face. Rain, falling near horizontally splattered in my eyes. Squinting, I lifted my arm to shield myself from its onslaught. Leaning in to the wind, I pushed my way, one step at a time, following that call towards the now swaying pithos.
CRACK! The entire world lit up like the eyes of Helios. The earth shook under my feet. Head ringing, I smelt burning. I flung my gaze back to the oak where I stood not but a moment before. Splinters of wood had blasted from the tree and were now spread across the ground. A seared crack in the oak’s trunk started to groan deeply. The top of the tree slowly listed, then twisting, it fell towards me. Head down I moved as fast as I could. Branches made snapping sounds as they broke under the weight of the enormous canopy, rolling on the ground. I turned, stumbling backwards. The great oak had come to a rest less than a body length from me. I swung my gaze back to the pithos. Wind created from the falling tree had sent the already rocking pithos toppling over.
Gasping, I couldn’t move. The lid had tumbled off, rolling in a giant arc towards me. It now rested at my feet. I looked down at it. Extreme dread rising in the pit of my stomach made me retch. Tormented screams enveloped me. I put my hands to my ears to protect me from the pain those screams provoked. Shadows started swirling like insidious tendrils out of the pithos, reaching, grabbing. Each tendril rose above me, evil, crooked. Suddenly twisting together, they flew like a warped spear towards my chest. Squeals, menacing laughter, dread, metallic smells, hate, disease, death, all smashed through me. Scalding pain ripped through my body. I felt like I was being torn in half. Falling to my knees, I cowered in a ball.
Pandora! The lid!
That voice. She was still calling towards me. Did she want me to shut the pithos? Squinting in to the rain, I picked up the lid, dropped my head down and pushed, resisting the power of the wave of shadows. Wind forced itself in to my chest. I couldn’t breathe out to breathe in again. My vision darkened. Panic overtook my thoughts. It is all too much. I can’t do it. I can’t breathe.
Pandora! Help!
I had to help her. Her voice compelled me. I fell back to my knees and managed a small breath. Again, I leaned in to the cries, the groans, the pain. One step, leaning, pushing, another step. I lifted the lid towards the pithos. Shadows now roaring, separated again, piercing through me like knives through flesh. Wrapping my arm around the top of the pithos, I launched to shove the lid back in place. I was repelled. A shadow had coiled around my arm, pulling me back. I fought against it, pushing down harder, my hand trembled, the shadow pulling. I was tiring, wavering, losing my grip on the lid.
Pandora! Now!
With that command I exploded in one last effort, slamming the lid back in to place. The shadow drew back from my arm like a retreating snake. Now free, they swirled around me, covered me, blocking all light. Tormented cries, sobbing, roaring. My ears hurt; it was all so loud. I laid on my side, cradling the pithos, desperately trying to hold the lid down. Suddenly in one swift moment, the shadows expanded in to a giant twister and with one last roar, took flight. Screams, anger, hate, anguish, dread, all dissipated as the twister gained in height. I dropped my head into the mud and closed my eyes, not feeling relief, just exhaustion.
A gentle breeze touched my skin. Selene was shining high in the nights sky. Mud was streaked across my body. I was damp, but not cold. The crisp air was still. Frogs hummed in a low murmur, filling what would have been total silence. I held the pithos to my chest.
Pandora. Whispered a voice from under the lip.
Yes, I said in response.
My name is Elpis. I almost became lost amongst those evils. Thank you. For I am now unburdened. I finally have room to breathe.
- Elpis translates to Hope.
Now you know my story. Straight from the horse’s mouth (what a stupid saying!). Truth is, Zeus never intended to just release all known evils on mankind. He didn’t get to his position without being especially ‘creative’. His main goal was for mankind to lose hope amongst those evils. For without hope, mankind would always be dependent upon the Gods. I was just his vessel for change. An innocent bystander. A scapegoat for his thunderbolt which catalysed the events that toppled the pithos over. By creating me he had created a means to blame someone else for his wicked behaviour… a beautiful evil. Little did Zeus realise I had the strength to push through those evils and save hope for humanity.
Most of the retellings of my story have interpreted me, a woman, opening that pithos through insidious curiosity and thus cursing man with strife. Therefore, from that day forth, women were the source all of man’s woes, angers and torments, thus how a man behaves is not in his control, absolving him of all responsibility.
A note from the Author
Am I Pandora? No. But Pandora is part of me. She is part of Helen, whose supposed infidelity sparked the Trojan war. She is part of Medusa, whose walk along a beach resulted in her rape. A rape she was punished for by her very own protector. She is part of Eve, another beautiful evil, and in our times, Eve is part of Pandora. She is part of every woman who has believed they shouldn’t walk at night for fear of being assaulted. She is part of anyone, male or female, who has been told they are the reason for another person’s poor behaviour.
The story above is my altered interpretation regarding the myths of Pandora. Primarily in relation to her first written account, authored by Hesiod, approx. 700BCE, in his poems, Theogony, and Works and Days’.
Told from Pandora’s perspective, she was not the bringer of evils, but in fact the saviour from a life without hope.
In conclusion to my interpretation of this well-told story, the pithos (also made of clay) represents Pandora’s self. The evils harboured within the pithos (Pandora) are the potential traumas we may carry from a lifetime of lived experiences. If we release our traumas and unburden ourselves, what we have remaining is Hope, and she is a powerful force if you can just give her the room to breathe.
Sources and Influences:
Hesiod - Theogony, Works and Days, Stanley Lombardo translation, Hackett Publishing 1993
Natalie Haynes - Pandora's Jar, Picador Publishing 2020
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