Ancient Greek families took consolation from knowing Hestia watched over their daily home life in the gentlest of ways. And Hestia found peace in giving that consolation.
Poseidon, along with his brother Hades, and his sisters Hestia and Demeter and Hera, was swallowed at birth by his father Cronus. Then a sixth child, Zeus, who was never swallowed, and thus had never known humiliation, freed them. Poseidon sized things up: Zeus was a force to be reckoned with—that was the guy to follow.
For ten long years, the six brothers and sisters fought their father and aunts and uncles—the mighty Titans. It was a nasty war, but what war isn’t? Poseidon gritted his teeth and did his part. He was no coward, after all. He donned armor and went dutifully into battle. He never lagged.
But now and then there was a lull in the battle, perhaps because Zeus got distracted or because the Titans, despite their huge size, needed a rest. Who knew? No one ever explained things to Poseidon. Whatever the case, Poseidon was grateful, and in those moments he took refuge in visiting Pontus, the ancient god of all the waters, the partner to his grandmother Gaia, Mother Earth, and his grandfather Uranus, Father Heaven. He swam in Pontus’ waters, and, despite how badly his life had gone so far, despite all the time locked up in his father’s belly, despite all the long years of savage war, he was happy. He found joy in the buoyancy of diving whales, he found beauteous rhythm in the undulating wake of eels, he found humor in the scuttling of crabs.
Best of all, Poseidon found a friend in the oldest son of Pontus and Gaia. His name was Nereus, and he loved the watery depths as much as Poseidon did. Together they plunged to the corals and sponges that lived on the seabed. They rode on the backs of turtles. They flapped their arms like the rays they followed, then let them hang with their legs moving at the whim of the currents like the tentacles of the nearly transparent jellyfish.
But then it was back to war, until the glorious moment when the hundred-handed sons of Gaia joined the battle on Zeus’ side, and then the Cyclopes gave Zeus the thunderbolt and Hades the helmet that made him invisible and Poseidon the trident. It worked, that trident. It worked splendidly. Poseidon struck it on the ground and the earth shook, boulders tumbled to the sea, rivers overflowed their banks. Ha! The Olympian gods won.
And Zeus appointed Poseidon ruler of the seas. Poseidon knew his brother felt the seas were an inferior realm to rule. Ha again! Nothing could have pleased Poseidon more.
WATER Gods
Many gods ruled the waters beside Pontus, Nereus, and Poseidon. Poseidon’s son Triton trumpeted the noises of moving water. His son Proteus changed shape at will—as seas seemed to do to the ancient Greeks. The Titan Oceanus was a continuous water loop: the connected system of the Earth’s five oceans. Then there were saltwater nymphs (Nereids), freshwater nymphs (Naiads), and three mortals who became sea divinities. The variety of gods may reflect ancient Greek knowledge of the complexities of the water systems.
The sea god Triton at the Trevi Fountain in Rome
With his black mane flying out behind him, he swam the seas in search of those who might need his help. It was a welcome antidote to that tedious war. And when he wasn’t patrolling, he let himself be absorbed in the watery mysteries.
That’s when he discovered the finest mystery ever. She was the granddaughter of Pontus and Gaia, and the daughter of the lordly sea god Phorcys and the lovely cheeked sea goddess Ceto. That heritage made her the perfect wife in Poseidon’s eyes. She was one of three sisters, called the Gorgons. The other two sisters were immortal, like the gods. But Medusa, as she was called, was mortal.
Poseidon found her mortality that much more alluring. She was vulnerable. How amazing to know someone vulnerable. He put his arms out and let the serpents of her hair swarm around them. Good! Those serpents could bite and poison—good protection. He gingerly touched the wings that jutted from her shoulder blades. Good good! Those wings could carry her far from an attacker. He stroked her scales. Ah, very good indeed! They were harder than armor. And most assuring of all, she had a special power: Anything mortal that looked directly at her face would turn instantly to stone. That should do it.
And so Poseidon felt almost safe in loving Medusa. They reveled together in his sea kingdom. At least for a while.
Humans who viewed Medusa’s ugly face turned to stone. Yet Poseidon found her wonderful and fell passionately in love, caressed by her serpent hair in the deep ocean waters.
During the period when Cronus ruled the world, the Titans lived large, some on the land and some in the seas. The deepest oceans were the haunt of Oceanus, a Titan brimming with the need to spread his waters everywhere. His sister Tethys swam beside him, lithe, graceful, and white-haired. Not gray—she was not aged. Not silver—she was not a source of light. True white. Pure as mother’s milk. It was that white hair that had captured Oceanus. He took Tethys as his wife.
Together they created so many sons, all strong rivers, from the great Nile of Egypt, to the famous Skamander of Troy, to the many that emptied into the friendly Black Sea. They swirled in eddies, they rippled with gusto, they rushed over cliffs and fell in loud, energetic sheets to the rocks below.
Then Oceanus and Tethys created so many daughters, all water nymphs, some inhabiting pools in foothills, some splashing in springs, some slipping through swamps. Each nymph was unique: one rosy, one nimble, one soft-eyed, one knowing—all charming.
When Zeus, the youngest son of Cronus, deposed his father and took his place on the throne as king of the universe, his eye fell on one of these nymphs, and he was indeed charmed. Metis, known as the wise one, seemed to flow like water to Zeus, cool and soothing. Watching her was like swimming in a clear, bubbling spring. He was smitten. And since he was king and felt he deserved anything he wanted, he simply took her as his wife. Metis soon had a child growing within her.
BIRTHPLACE of Democracy
Athena gave the olive tree to a special city, thereafter named Athens. Around 500 B.C., Athens decided citizens should vote. Democracy was born! But women were not included. Men had many powers unique to them. The only power unique to women was childbearing. In the Athena myth, Athena is born from Zeus’ forehead. Certainly the Greeks knew men don’t give birth. But maybe they wished men did, for Uranus, Cronus, and Zeus, each in his own way, tried to take this power from womanhood.
Olive trees in front of ancient ruins in Athens, Greece
That’s when Zeus’ grandmother Gaia and grandfather Uranus gave him the ugly warning that, by now, he almost expected: Metis would bear him a daughter and then a son, and the son would be invincible. That splendid son, that wretched and hateful son,