What does this mean for you? You are talented in your trade enough that others hope to follow in your footsteps, watching and observing and learning from you. Furthermore, you radiate confidence and do not step back from a challenge.
The story of Arachne goes something like this: Born of a Lydian dyer, Arachne was nonetheless known across all of Greece for her talent in weaving. Nymphs from all around Lydia were said to watch and learn from her agile hands, turning simple wool into exquisite tapestries. Many assumed that it was Athena, patron goddess of womanly arts and crafts, who taught Arachne her trade. This assumption made Arachne scoff. Her talents were her own, she often declared. Eventually, the insinuation made her announce, “I challenge Athena, and if I lose, there’s nothing I would refuse to pay!”
Having heard this, Athena came to Arachne one day disguised as an old crone. Hobbling around on a cane, she said, “Old age makes you wise, girl, and I would honor the great goddess who gave you such talents! You are arrogant to assume they are your own.”
Offended, Arachne snapped, “You old fool! Perhaps your granddaughters or daughters would listen to your ramblings, but not me. I can look after myself. You can’t change my mind. As for your supposed great goddess, where is she? She hasn’t yet come to challenge me!”
It was upon these words that the old crone transformed into gray-eyed Athena herself, grand and tall, manifest goddess. Though neither humbled or awed, Arachne was nonetheless startled to see the goddess.
The contest ensued. Both set themselves at their looms, weaving wool into immaculate tapestries. From lone colors and thread came the rainbows of image, and both worked a long hour to complete it. And never could the stories they wove differ more.
Athena wove stories of the gods in all their glory. Zeus upon his throne, highest and brightest amongst the deathless gods, Poseidon with his trident breaking cliffs, Athena herself standing tall with her aegis and spear, ready for battle, along with the breaking of arrogant humans against their immortal might. Athena meant to show the glory of the gods beset against a backdrop of foolish humans to show Arachne the foolishness of her challenge against Athena.
By contrast, Arachne wove the stories of the rapes that gods perpetrated against the mortal women of humanity. The taking of Europa by Zeus, Lady Leda abed with a Zeus transformed into swan, Danae in a shower of gold, Antiope lying with twins by Zeus, and so much more. Story after story, women raped by the gods–the shame of the gods made manifest.
And by the end of it, Athena could find no fault in it. The tapestry was perfect, utterly flawless and ultimately true. Every story. True. Even in her raging jealousy, Athena found it perfect. She could not deny the talent Arachne possessed. But she could not live with it. With her hands, she tore the crimes of the gods into tattered shreds. Next, she took Arachne’s shuttle, struck Arachne’s head. Once. Twice. Three times. Arachne could not stand it, and in desperation, drew a rope and hung herself. Death came for her, but Athena was not done yet.
Rage dissipating, Athena took pity upon Arachne, restoring her at the brink of death and transforming her. “‘Live wicked girl,’” Ovid writes in the voice of Athena, “‘live on, but hang forever, and, just to keep you thoughtful for the future, this punishment shall be enforced for always on all your generations.”
With a sprinkling of hell-bane into her hair, her arms and legs disappeared, her hair fell from her head, and she shrunk into a tiny little creature that we know today as the spider, weaving forever and ever. As Ovid puts it, “The spider has not forgotten the arts she used to practice.”
The myth of Arachne ends there, written by the Roman poet Ovid in the first century AD in his spellbinding retellings of Greek mythology known collectively as the Metamorphoses. It should be noted that Athena here is actually said to be under the name ‘Minerva,’ the Roman counterpart of the Greek Athena, but that speaks little difference to the integrity of the myth itself. Also, ‘Arachne’ is where we get the word ‘Arachnid’ for our spiders today.
As for how this connects to you, dear reader and established Arachne, there are, of course, various avenues in which to analyze this myth. One could speculate that the myth is about not comparing yourself to an archetypal figure like a goddess. To do so, one becomes what depth psychologists call ‘inflated,’ where hubris prevails and you forget your fallible nature as a human being. Alternatively, one could say that Minerva was in the wrong, that one should be proud of one’s talents. What’s so wrong with being the best? It can be argued that Minerva’s ‘curse’ transformed Arachne into her truest self, weaving and showcasing her talents forever as the very first spider.
That said, all ways speak about a simple truth that this myth underlines: humility. Be talented, be the best, be competitive, but don’t forget to also be humble. No one likes a sore winner, after all.
For Arachne, however, can it be said she won or lost? It is impossible to tell. At the very least, she equaled the mighty Athena in her weaving skills. Should it be said that Athena herself should be humbled, goddess as she is? Or should Arachne have had the mortal humility to submit to the goddess of arts and crafts?
Ultimately, I think that both should have found equality amongst each other. Often the Greek gods were understood as extreme manifestations of either nature or human characteristics, Athena/Minerva acting as wisdom, craftiness, arts, and skill in weaving. Could it be said that Athena is an extreme manifestation of Arachne’s hubris, her inner critic coming to challenge her own talents? In any case, while Athena and Arachne are loath to submit to the other, the myth nonetheless speaks to a basic human moral understanding: humility is key in victory.
As long as you remember this, dear Arachne, don’t fear standing out, and weave forevermore.
