Europa: The Origin of Taurus

I was born on the edge of the world - where the cliffs of the land and the tidal waves of the ocean are friends, where the tall grass and the white sands rustle in the same wind. It’s in this place I was free and wild with adventure. I was every bit reckless as I was brave, daring my brothers to race in the rain and dance in the starlight. While my father reigned over a kingdom, I was a princess of the stars and sea; content, initially, to simply imagine what must lie beyond the horizon. But living at the edge of the world is like standing upon a mountain and thinking “What if I jumped?” How can one begin to trust oneself to stay grounded, to not leap through the air with arms wide, believing they might fly away? I’m not a cliche yet I see how it must sound: a bored princess wishes for another life beyond the honeyed existence she suffers. With years to consider this, I realize I would have grown out of the inexplicable phase all young people encounter of curiosity and longing for the unknown. Although bold and heady, I was not and am not a person with sustained desires. It’s awful to admit that I may not be as interesting as I wish others to see me as, but in all my life the only thing I have truly longed for is home. Even when I wished to jump from that great height and soar away on albatross wings, it was only a misguided attempt to find where I already was. I believe I would have come to this conclusion with a little time, had it not been for the event - the event that would alter the course of my life forever, and forever leave me in mourning for home.

Every morning at dawn I was awoken by my mother, Telephassa, to pray to Melqart for the prosperity of my father’s reign and Astarte for love so that I may marry soon. My mother’s name means “far-shining” - suit for a beloved queen. The task of child-rearing was often left to nurses and maids, but Telephassa was different in that way. With every child came a deeper bond than before, her love thick and heavy. I was not separated from my brothers or shielded from the ways of the world like most daughters but instead given freedom offered only to men. I understood it would end with marriage, nevertheless, I cherished those years of my life. I still long to run into my mother's arms and whisper my thanks for not being the one to tame me.

Once the prays were said, the offerings placed amongst the gods and goddesses' likeness, the activities of the day were to be determined by our imagination and executed at will. We were turned loose on the world; the patter of small but growing feet on the flagstone echoed through the hallways along with the shrieks of our joyous screams. Most memories fade with age, yet this one still glimmers in my mind with acute clarity. Such a common occurrence it was that my mind is molded around it, as though it has been carved into a perfect statue forever to haunt me. It was on a day with the simple start of laughter and motion my freedom was stollen, that I was taken away from my mother at 15 years - never to see her again.

The sun was obscured by a smattering of clouds and the sky a crisp grey, the tall grass beckoned with waving arms, the bird's song urged me to run - so I did. At the protest of my handmaids, I dashed for the slopes leading to the ocean, the air so crisp on the early winter day my cheeks stung and my eyes watered. My legs were strong from racing my brothers and my chest familiar with the pounding of my heart, and so I was soon out of sight of all those charged with watching. It was the moments alone that truly made my heart rage and my throat long to scream, to tear apart the air around me in complete catharsis. Sometimes it wasn’t enough to just run; I wanted to fly and swim and jump and leap across the boundaries of my life. I wanted to shake off the prison of my skin and absorb all that surrounded me and become one with all my curiosity and the ravenous void inside me. Maybe it was this desire to become something unknown, something almost holy that led me to notice him.

Along the ridge of the shallow valley, I had hurtled myself down stood the bold outline of a bull, strangely exotic and alluring in the shadow it was placed. Its hair was milky white, completely homogenous, and as silky as my finest dress. Although his head was bent, grazing along the grass, I could see a spark of intelligence in the glass orb of his eye - watching me. It was not the gentle watchfulness of the docile bovine I was accustomed to but predatory like a hawk or shark. Yet I couldn’t stop myself from walking closer, reaching out my hand like I was approaching an old friend to embrace. And in a way, I was because as I looked into the eyes of the majestical beast before me, I knew he had been watching me a long time.

He lowered himself to the ground, a gesture to show good faith and to ease my fears and it worked. The warm huffing breaths were calming and the rise and fall of his ribs as I ran my hand along the unnatural smoothness of his body brought a heavy peace. I felt as though I had been pushed underwater into the space between waking and dreaming, where you know the hand is yours but cannot control it. And thus, I found myself climbing atop his broad back and resting my head against the powerful shoulder muscle protruding along its spine.

It is after this moment I begin to grow hazy on the details, how I came to be the queen of a foreign land, bear the children of a foreign man, possess godly gifts, and become utterly powerless in my life. It is only now as I rest among the stars I hear whispers of the story people tell. That I was seduced by Zeus in the form of a giant white bull, that I bore his children and happily ruled alongside a foreign man, that my sons would have tales miles long written about them - and I would have nothing. That’s not true of course: I have a continent named for me in the new world and a constellation in the sky to forever remind me of the loss I suffered at the hands of greedy god - Taurus.