once, in a land of three gods
life rx 12 aug 24
the three of wands, and an excerpt from Venus Khoury-Gatta’s Nettles:
“in whose hand is my hand asked the woman in love
do you see our hearts in the mirror
why is it so dark under my dress?”
the aleatory
Once, in a land of three gods, there was a girl with too much hair.
She didn’t mind having so much hair. She could make it into a beard, or feathers. It flew behind her when she ran like a cape. It was a glory, and almost every day somebody stopped her to remark on it.
But her mother felt differently. Her mother was the one who brushed the girl’s hair. If the girl’s hair was messy, would anyone blame the girl? Absolutely not. Children are supposed to be wild and free from worry. If the girl’s hair was messy, would anyone blame the mother? Yes, anyone would. Everyone would.
The mother hated brushing the girl’s hair, first of all because it was impossible, second of all because it was painful to the child, third because it made the mother into a villain, fourth because by the time she and her comb had traveled from the left side of the girl’s skull to the right, the hairs on the left had spidered themselves together again. It is bad for one’s complexion to do tasks which you know in your heart to be hopeless, and she already felt that the face greeting her in the mirror was too old to be hers.
On a moonless night, the mother brought the sleeping child to the mountain top where the three gods kept their houses. She cried: “Gods, come out! I have an offering to give! All glory the hair on this child’s head, and now I give it to you!”
The gods came out to their porches, confused. The rabbit god asked, “Just the hair? Or also the head?”
The apple god asked, “How should we each take our share?”
The nettle god asked, “What do you really want, woman?”
The mother stuttered uncertainly. “I didn’t think it my place to divide your shares. Here, I will give you each an equal piece, and you can decide what you want to do with it.”
She gave the rabbit god the left section of the sleeping girl’s hair, and to the apple god the middle, and to the nettle god the right.
The nettle god looked at the handful of hair. “Oh, I don’t want this one, it’s all snarled.”
“I’ll take it,” said the rabbit god. “You can have mine, it’s lighter than the others and I don’t like it.”
“Give it to me,” said the apple god. “I like its shine.”
Once they traded, though, each of the gods was still dissatisfied.
The apple god traded strands again with the nettle god, and at the last moment the rabbit god traded as well.
Yet, no sooner had they completed this transaction than they all became displeased again. They traded and traded, swapping their sections, until only the ends of the girl’s hair showed.
The mother tied a ribbon around the ends and ran away back home with the girl. “I’m sorry, I’ve changed my mind! If you can’t decide, then none of you should have my offering!”
That was the first braid—but certainly not the last. Others marveled at the girl’s plaited hair, and they learned how to braid flax and wool, and make ropes, and make boats, and sail to other parts of the world with different gods. The mother had angered the apple god and the rabbit god and the nettle god. She and the child had to run from them. In fall, when the nettles come up and the ragweed stops blooming, you know it’s time to move on, before the gods find you.
the assignment
Take back something you sacrificed to your gods and endure their wrath.
writing prompt
A long, diverting paragraph that frequently departs from itself via the phrase “the point is …”
a chune
“Greenback Dollar” by Hoyt Axton
For reasons I can’t really describe, I’ve been drawn to folktales lately. They often have an arid, modern sensibility that feels like a relief to me. Novels these days can just drown you in psychology, as if every character’s action has to be explained by their feelings. But in folktales, people go about their business and there is no stopping to ask why they have to obtain a cabbage from the queen’s garden. And they contain lessons, of course, but the lessons are not always usable. (The only honest lesson there is is probably one you can’t use.)
credits: small spells tarot deck by Rachel Howe
Nettles by Venus Khoury-Gatta
“Greenback Dollar” by Hoyt Axton
dear diary, I’ve been walking 10,000 steps a day every day for two weeks and I hate to tell you that I feel really great and I think it has solved all my problems. Now I leave the house _before having coffee_ to walk around the Rose Bowl. It reminds me of the Doris Zine anti-depression guide issue where one of the biggest suggestions is to get out of the house every day absolutely as soon as possible. I’m probably about eight days away from buying a beige-adjacent workout set on Amazon. Just kidding, I’m too messy for beige. XS