Goddess Of The Hunt | Greek Mythology Sleep Story

In tonight’s Greek myth-inspired bedtime story, you are a companion of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, the Moon, and wild animals. You enjoy her protection, and she teaches you the ways of the woods. Under her tutelage, you learn to harness the winds, embrace the wild, and fashion your own bow. The goddess comes to consider you her most beloved companion, and she invites you into the ranks of the immortals.

Music & Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw, Beneath the Mist by Spirits of our Dreams, Via Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Follow in the footsteps of the goddess of the hunt in tonight's Greek mythology inspired sleep story. Sleep and Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy inspired sleep series. My name is Laurel, And I'll be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey. Sleep and Sorcery is one part bedtime story, One part guided meditation, And one part dreamy adventure. Follow along with my voice for as long as it serves you, And when you're ready, Feel free to let go of the story and relax into sleep. This story contains a built-in meditation for rest and interconnection. In tonight's story, You are a companion of Artemis, The goddess of the hunt, The moon, And wild animals. You enjoy her protection, And she teaches you the ways of the woods. Under her tutelage, You learn to harness the winds, Embrace the wild, And fashion your own bow. The goddess comes to consider you her most beloved companion, And she invites you into the ranks of the immortals. Tonight's story is adapted from much of the mythological material surrounding Artemis. I've taken liberties with the sources to offer an adaptation that fits the tone of Sleep and Sorcery, But some of the themes of this tale may skew a bit mature for younger listeners. If you listen with kids, Parental discretion is advised. If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much. Mary Oliver, How I Go to the Woods You remember little from the time before she first appeared to you. Sometimes the life you used to live will return in flashes of image or faint memory, Panting breaths and a blur of trees. It seems to you, Piecing together these fragments, That you were always running. That yours was a life on the run, A life of adrenaline, Exhaustion, And relentless effort. How different things are now. You can finally breathe easy. You can even run, Sweetly and singing as you go, At your own pace, Taking in the wonders that surround you. The wildness of the woods, The splendor of the trees, And the songs of the birds and insects. Your feet know the forest floor, And your hands revel in the texture of bark and leaf and bow. And it is all because of her. She came to you at your lowest point, When hope was all but lost. Your skin was burned and reddened by the ropes of the fisherman's net in which you were tangled. You don't remember how you got there. Were you fished from the sea, Like some aquatic creature? If so, Why do you have memories of fleeing on foot? Or did you leap from someplace on high, So determined to elude a pursuer, That you favored the waters below? Whatever the case, Snared you were in the nets, Caught like a fish, Still yearning for freedom. But then she appeared. This memory is clearer in your mind than any other, As mysterious as it is. For this is when your new life began. Soft hands, A soft voice, Tenderly she unwound the ropes from your arms and legs, Freeing your limbs which seized and trembled from the cold. The cold and, Perhaps, The constant running. She lifted you from the net, And with a strength greater than her size implied, She held you like a child in her arms. She was warm and bright, Like the sun. The fishermen, Who had moments before sought to bring you on board, Shielded their eyes against her brilliance. She was too much for them to behold. But to you, She was nourishing. It was as if your body drew energy from her, Her light flooding your system and awakening your heart. She bore you to the cypress grove and brought you food and spring water. She gave you a tunic to wear, Like her own, And offered you a place to sleep. Oh, Sleep, A gift, A blessing you had not known in some time. Beneath the bower, Warm and dry and fed at last, You allowed your breathing to deepen for the first time. Your heartbeat slowed to a steady rhythm. Safe, At last, You fell into a sleep such as even the rocks and mountains do not know. Deep, Slow, Impenetrable sleep, And the moon bore devoted witness. Sleep was the first gift of Artemis, The goddess from whom you will not now be parted. It was not the last. Seeing your distress, She graciously pulled the painful memories from your mind with magic and herbal potions. She could not erase it all, But she eased the lingering fear and worry that so clouded your mind, Giving you freedom to exhale. It was a blessed forgetting. Artemis is a solitary creature, As immortals go. Or rather, She is particular about the company she keeps. So, If you land among her inner circle, You must be very special indeed. She must prefer you to the independence and bliss of solitude. Unlike many of her kin, She refuses marriage and conventional partnership. Domesticity is not in her nature. She is untamed, Feral, Making her home under the bending limbs of cypress trees in earshot of laughing brooks. Anyone who should endeavor to bind her to a single place or a traditional role should be wary of her wrath. You have come to know her as well as anyone, You think, In the time you've been by her side. Perhaps only her brother may claim to know her better. When you first saw her, You thought she was radiant as the sun, But now you know such brightness is the domain of her twin, Apollo. Artemis, On the other hand, Sheds a light that's more reflective, Oblescent. She is like the moon, Aglow with the luminous echo of all the beauty that surrounds her. She is a mirror. When they are together, The twins seem to converse in an altogether foreign language, A vocabulary all their own, Unique to the bonds of their birth. At first, You longed to decipher their twin tongue. Now you surrender to its strangeness. For when Apollo departs, Drawn away to some conflict or other, She is all yours once more. In her shadow, You learn the ways of the wild. Fleet of foot as you are, You linger always a pace or two behind her, Observing her skill with the bow, The silence of her movement between trees. At night, You lie on your backs in the cypress grove, Gazing up at the stars. She tells you the stories of the Titans and the gods, Of her mother, The Titaness Leto, And her father, The Olympian Zeus, Of the great war that once raged between the immortal races, A conflict of generational change, Of her own birth on the floating island of Delos, An island which was once a Titaness, Asteria, The goddess of falling stars. Such stories are written into the stars, Artemis tells you. Many of her own stories sparkle in the firmament. Though she never wished to marry, Artemis has known love. She rarely speaks of Callisto, The nymph with whom she once shared a close bond. After a betrayal too painful for the goddess to describe, Callisto was banished from her side and transformed into a bear. Now the bear nymph shines down from above, In a collection of stars known as the Great Bear. The love Artemis will speak of, Even with grief in her voice, Is the love she shared with Orion. Like her, He was a hunter. As mistress of the wilderness and commander of the bow, She had never met her equal. Only Orion came close to rivaling her ability. So she made the mortal hunter her companion. He was a kindred spirit, But he boasted too much about his hunting prowess, And his pride angered the earth, Gaia. The Titaness engineered Orion's death, And Artemis wept over his body. The grief of a goddess is a powerful magic, Unpredictable in its alchemy. Her tears transformed the hunter's body into bright burning gems, Which she placed among the constellations in a form like the one in which she had so delighted. Now, Each night, She may look upon Orion again. You are certain she loves you too, Though perhaps not in the same way she loved Callisto or Orion. Yours is a bond unspoken and quiet. It needs no declaration or grand gesture. Yours is the rare and sparkling intimacy of entangled souls. Spending time together in the grove, On the hunt, Or beneath the stars, Feels like being alone with yourself. Artemis teaches you to fashion your own bow and arrows. Her bow of purest silver was forged in the fires of Hephaestus, Blacksmith to the gods. Yours, Though, Is fashioned of deer antler, Shed by the young stag, Bound up with leather and bent to the curves of your hands. And with the divine huntress as your guide, You learn to shoot straight. But you also learn the delicate balance of the hunt. The magnitude of responsibility the hunter has for life and death. How these two great forces feed and turn each other like a water wheel. Life into death, Into rebirth, Into new life. You imagine she learns from you in turn. Though she is the lady of the hunt, She knows not what it means to be hunted. She's relieved you of the most painful memories of your life before. But the remembrance of being pursued never fully leaves your body. It is encoded into your muscles and limbs, Entangled with your deepest instincts. You know what it is for fear to flood the system, For the heart to race. You know what it is to be watched, Followed, And possessed. Because of this, You share a profound kinship with the wild beasts of the forest. And so, You stir in Artemis an even deeper respect and empathy for the animals. Another of the gifts the goddess bestows upon you is the knowledge of healing. Like her brother who presides over medicine, She possesses great wisdom. Her form of healing, However, Like all things about her, Is wilder than her brother's. She divines the powers of plants and animals through a deep relationship to her environment, Cultivating natural poisons and remedies. She teaches you this special language and relationship. With time, You too can hear the song of the cypress, The most sacred tree of the goddess, And of Artemisia, The powerful herb that bears her name. There are others who join the retinue of Artemis, Some for brief periods and others for extended lengths. You cannot deny that you feel some jealousy at sharing the goddess's attentions with other mortals, Nymphs, And Olympian kin. But at times, These interludes serve only to reinforce your devotion to her. You accompany Artemis to the port town of Aulis, Where an army of Achaeans prepare to lay siege to the city of Troy. Here you glimpse the golden figure of Achilles, Destined to be the greatest warrior of his age. And you observe the timid girl, Iphigenia, Daughter of the king Agamemnon. Artemis has forestalled the winds, Refusing to let the Greeks set sail in penance for Agamemnon's killing of a deer in her sacred grove. Only through the sacrifice of his daughter, Artemis proclaims through a seer, Can he be absolved and the sails filled with wind. You watch as Agamemnon leads his daughter to the altar, Distraught that the goddess would allow such tragedy to befall an innocent girl. But in the moment of the sacrifice, Artemis swoops down upon the altar and carries Iphigenia away, Leaving a fawn in her place. Just as she rescued you from the fisherman's nets, She rescues this girl from the horrors of war. Whisking her to the distant shores of Taurus, Artemis gives Iphigenia a new life, Installing her as priestess there. What you witness between Artemis and Iphigenia is rapturous. Not only does the goddess rescue a girl from a devastating fate and from a family bound to a generational curse, She delivers her to an existence of agency and purpose. Iphigenia is no longer the gambling chip of powerful men, But a spiritual leader and protector of women. As you take your leave of Taurus and bid the young priestess goodbye, Something shines from her eyes that was not there before. A flash of ageless wisdom. You look back, And it seems to you that Iphigenia has three faces instead of one, Each overseeing a different direction of the winds. For the first time, You understand that not all gods or goddesses are born. Some are made. What makes someone a god, You wonder aloud, Back in the cypress grove as you and Artemis gaze on the wandering stars. In your time together, You've encountered gods and goddesses of many shapes, Qualities, And domains. You have run through the forests of Delos, An island who is also a goddess, With slopes and plateaus and lakes. You have watched the goddess of the dawn drive her chariot across the sky, Glimpsed Poseidon, The lord of waterways and his fishtailed sons. You have reveled with Pan, The horned god of the meadows of Arcadia, Basked in the beauty of Aphrodite, Who was born of sea foam, And Athena, Who sprang fully formed from her father's head. None of these beings is like another. Every origin is unique. Even the twins, Artemis and Apollo, Are as unalike as the sun and moon. So what is it that makes someone divine? Artemis rolls onto her side. You feel her gaze on you as you continue to trace the constellations above. A story, She answers. You wait for her to elaborate, But she says nothing more. The stars swim before your eyes, And without realizing it, Soon you are slipping sweetly down the long familiar tunnel to the domain of Morpheus, The god of dreams. In that poppy-scented realm, Revelations often arrive on the black wings of the dream gods. Artemis' last words to you before falling asleep cling to your eyelashes. What makes a god a god? A story, She said, As if she were solving a complex mystery and putting it to bed. You float through alleys of cypress and pine, Through forests wilder than any you've hunted in. Vast forms flit in and out of the trees, Disappearing before you can fix your gaze on them. Deer and wolves and hooved gods. If only, You think, Like Iphigenia, You could see in many directions at once. But is this not, You realize, The only place in creation where, If you desire something, You can have it? No sooner than the thought crosses your dreaming mind, Your vision expands, As if you are opening long-forgotten pairs of sleep-filled eyes, Which were always there, But never put to use. It is unfamiliar, Strange, To see all around through unique perspectives. Instead of one panoramic vision of the dream wilderness, You see three distinct landscapes unfold before you. One mountainous, Rocky, And overlooking the sea. One fragrant with cypress. One cave-like and chthonic. It seems you can send your mind, Or your dream body, Down each path simultaneously. For almost without effort, You find yourself immersed in these disparate worlds, And you become the landscape. As the goddess of falling stars once lay her titan body down in the ocean to take the shape of an island, You now send your spiral arms into the limitless expanse of the universe. And you know what it means to be a fish in the ocean. You know how it feels to be a mountain moving on a cosmic scale. You know what it's like to weave textiles and fire weapons in a forge. You remember a past life in which you were always running. The whole wide world, A fearful blur. You breathe. Or rather, You are breathed by the world, By the cosmos. You rise and fall with the current of the wind, The waves, And the wandering rocks. Inhale with the north wind. Let your body be as light as air. Exhale. Inhale with the west wind, Finding lightness, Buoyancy. Exhale. Inhale with the south wind, Floating toward the stars. Exhale. Inhale with the east wind, Drawing yourself into the constellations. Exhale. Float now through the sea of stars, Gently tossed on the lolling waves. Breathe in, Letting the waves crest. And out, Softening on the troughs. Breathe in, Rising. Softening. Breathe in, Cresting. Sinking. Feel yourself drawn to the ground again, Into the arms of Gaia, Titan goddess of the earth. And exhale, Sinking toward the ground. Inhale. Exhale, Softening into the surface of the earth. Inhale. Inhale. Exhale, Sinking into the soil. Exhale, Connecting with the roots, The rocks, And the caverns below. Time collapses. You are at the center of past, Present, And future. And yet, You are also decentralized, For you are now in every cell of every being and thought. You are the dark-winged dreams. You are the sun and moon. You are the beasts of the wilderness and the notches in the silver bow. You are the island of Delos. You are Apollo. You are Iphigenia. You are Artemis. The goddess's words still clinging to you like raindrops, Which will not be shaken away. A thought crystallizes. What makes the gods divine is a story. This is the mystery which so few understand. A sublime revelation you can only access here, In the land of dreams. This is the truth. The gods were made by humans. They existed before, But they were one thing. One vast and unfathomable quintessence. With the coming of humanity came the beginnings of poetry and song. Huddled together around crackling fires in the dark, The first humans bonded through their stories. Their burgeoning language broke the eternal quintessence into pieces, Shattered the indivisible one into a thousand faces. Like the facets of a diamond or the mist that hangs round after a rain to create arcing prisms, They reflected against one another, Casting illusions of new gods in endless permutations, Each of them a unique composite of all the stories humans would ever tell, All the archetypes you would ever dream. They weave in and out of each other, Olympian, Titan, Or otherwise, Morphing and transfiguring down the passage of time. Sometimes even the gods do not know where one of them ends. And another begins. And the divisions don't stop. Even when the gods claim their individual name and domain, The stories continue to split them into aspects and epithets. So is Artemis the moon and the archer, And the vengeful maiden and the champion of women and girls. So are you her mirror image, Her devoted companion, Her equal? Down the spiraling arm of the future, This comes to you as knowledge can only come in dreams. Many will call you by her name, And her by yours, And you both will have other names entirely. Some will forget you ever knew one another. Some will forget you were not the same. This is a new life, An afterlife you cannot control. It is in the hands of storytellers. That thought is somehow comforting. In a past life, The one you lived before Artemis came for you, You were always running. Now you can rest. You sink into bliss. The dream blurs, Carrying you down a river of silence into restorative darkness and peace. When softly your body wakes, It does not know itself yet. It does not know its edges. Beads of dew cling to your skin and hair, And for a tender moment, You might be the trumpet of a daffodil, The cup of a primrose. Savor it, You think. This transition from cosmic to microcosmic. The sweetness of forgetting that you are not a flower or a mountain or stardust. When you open your eyes, The reality of interconnection will slide off, Restoring the illusion of your edges. It is nice to have a body, To know who you are, But it can also be nice to be everything, Everyone, Everywhere. In time you rise, Stretching your arms and breathing in the scent of cypress. Dawn's chariot splashes the sky with tinted rose and purple marble. Mist is evaporating over the trees. Footsteps, Somewhere in the wood, The footsteps of the goddess. You sling your bow and quiver across your back and follow the sound swiftly. How sweet it is to run without fear, But only for the joy of it, For the excitement of what or who lies on the other side of the effort. With each step you take, Memories of your dreams slip down your limbs and pour like water from your feet and fingertips, Seeping into the soil. By the time you reach Artemis, Who stands overlooking the water, You can remember little of the dream's substance, But the secret knowledge whispered to you by the journey out of time and body remains, Encoded in your very soul. A god is a story. Immortality is no different from memory, And memory, Too, Is a goddess. Artemis has written stories into the stars, The belt and bow of her beloved Orion, The great bear nymph, Callisto, And she has founded lineages, Far-seeing Iphigenia sings now at the goddess's temple, Where she will inspire generations of priestesses. To make someone divine, Make them immortal, They must be unforgettable. There was a time you thought you wanted Artemis to raise you to her level, To make you one of the Olympians, So that you can run through the forests together forever. Now you take your place beside her on the cliffside, Overlooking the rocks and waves. There are no merchant ships or fishermen's boats on this remote shore, But still you recall the day she came for you, Untangled you from the nets in which you were caught, Brought you to her sacred grove and taught you the ways of the wild. The goddess has given you many gifts, But she alone cannot grant you immortality. Only a story can do that. Though dawn spreads her rosy fingers across the sky with elegant speed, Some stars yet shine in the darkened west. You imagine fixing a star to the tip of your arrow, Raising your bow and loosing it to the heavens, Planting there a stellar seed. You imagine the strange constellation that might grow from such a seedling. You feel brave, Safe and free. You exhale and you turn to Artemis, The goddess of the hunt, The wild moon, And say, I want my memories back. Her brow furrows as she searches your face. She can see the lingering dream threads receding from your eyes like waves pulling away from the shore. She can see the new knowledge sparking in your heart and her eyes soften. Are you sure? She asks. Yes, You reply. I want to remember everything. When the memories begin flooding back, They are tempered by the cool, Soft hand on your face, Another laid upon your heart. She wants you to know you are safe with her. She will always catch you if you fall. She loves you. And from the heart of the forest to the rocky cliffs, This is your home. You never need to run again, Except in search of joy. Good night.

Reviews

Such a calming story to listen to. I have really enjoyed listening to it. Thank you 🙏

Very relaxing and soothing.. didn’t get to hear all of it so will be listening to it again. Thank you x