Quick quiz: in ancient Greek mythology, who had power over all mortals and gods?
If you’re like me (or at least, the me of about 10 minutes ago as I’m writing this) you probably responded with a confident, “Zeus.”
And you’re not exactly wrong. Zeus was pretty powerful, no doubt.
But for all his muscles and lightning bolts and ludicrous fertility, even Zeus didn’t have power over a certain group of three goddesses; the ones who determined destiny.
They were called the Moirai.
These three women controlled the fate of everyone, and even other gods and goddesses couldn’t mess with them. And because it’s mythology, they did their fate-controlling with the help of a metaphor: cloth.
The first of the three sisters was Clotho, the spinner. She spun the fabric of each life to determine its quality. Next was Lachesis, the measurer. She determined each life’s length. Finally came Atropos, the cutter. She inevitably and ominously cut the thread at the end of each life.
I find it fascinating that even in a culture like the logic-obsessed ancient Greeks, who pushed forward our understanding of philosophy and math and pretty much everything else, still couldn’t wrap their heads around the cruel randomness of life without personifying it. Why did that good person die young? Must have been the fates. Why did this terrible thing happen? Destiny. Why is life unfair? Well, you know, cloth and scissors and all that.
But maybe personifying destiny is more of a back-up plan. Maybe the Greeks knew that all of us are struggling away, desperately trying to spin our own cloth the best we possibly can, and if the pattern comes out nothing like we’d hoped, it can be a bit dispiriting, even embarrassing. Maybe the Greeks wanted us to have someone to blame when that happened to us.
So as we make our way past the first week of the new year, don’t worry if the threads of those resolutions aren’t working out the way you’d originally hoped. Just blame the sisters and keep spinning.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. For someone with a background in classical piano and flute, New Zealand producer Pianika doesn’t use her platform to show off her technical skills. Instead, the piano is just another ingredient adding to the mood.
2. Where most electronic tracks would use a hi-hat cymbal on the off beats, Pianika chooses brushes on a snare drum, lending a laid-back jazziness to the whole thing.
3. Like a lot of relaxing songs, it hangs out on just two chords: the first and the fourth degree of the scale. However, most of the time it’s on the fourth rather than home base, and this leaves it feeling like a cadence that never quite resolves. Or, in Greek terms, a thread that’s never cut.
Recommended listening activity:
Looking really closely at the woven fabric of your favourite shirt.