At Thanksgiving, Orion has returned
And we know what that means
We all mark turning seasons in different ways, often using signpost holidays like Thanksgiving. For me, the circle always wheels around Orion.
After months away, when he first shows up deep into late-summer nights I’m thrilled because he’s my favorite constellation. But that’s bittersweet because I know what his arrival portends.
Days get shorter. He rises sooner and sooner in the evenings, the big triangle of head and shoulders emerging over his straight-line belt, a smudge of stars a dangling sword, two points for legs.
Come winter’s deep freeze he’s a night-long companion. Then he starts slipping below the horizon sooner and sooner as spring comes, to disappear for the warm months.
I never say good riddance to him, only to winter.
There are multiple Greek myths about Orion, but he always is the hunter. Some say his downfall — or upfall — was because he was a braggart, angering Gaea the earth goddess by claiming he could and would kill every animal on the planet. I am more intrigued with the mythology chronicling love problems and jealousies among brothers, even allegations of rape that led to divine punishment.
Every version ends in death and exile, in opposite of usual order. That’s because in this case Zeus flung him into the heavens after his demise so he could keep hunting forever. He’s got his dog with him, Sirius the dog star, and for good measure Zeus also catapulted the scorpion whose bite killed him, the constellation Scorpio.
I’ve never understood to what extent ancient Greeks took their myths literally. Did the devout believe the sagas to be historical truth the way devout today believe in a literal resurrection of Jesus, and the Bible as literal word of God delivered from on high?
My skepticism pushes me toward the opinion that then as now, many appreciated the creativity, inspiration, and life lessons of the storytelling, felt solace, awe, and less fear by humanizing forces far beyond our control. But that didn’t mean they believed a guy named Orion got turned into a bunch of stars by a marauding god named Zeus.
Either way, his presence has been a constant in my life, and as we move into darkness and cold, punctuated by holidays, he has always helped me (even more than those holidays) take stock of where I am, who I am, how I’ve changed since the last time I stood in a dark place and stared up at him after dinner.
Given the reliable order, structure and timing he maintains, it seemed that traditional, meticulous verse would be the right form to try to capture his ancient tale. So many years ago I wrote the following sonnet, three quatrains and a couplet, which remains a favorite bit of my own writing, especially the couplet:
“Orion”
Only when forgotten scarf, parka, glove
And wool socks are remembered, and in use
Does this hunter, cinched at waist, towering above,
Silently stalk, his vengeance never loosed.
It seems the hunter has the advantage
His prey full view, only arm’s length away.
But they are same-swift, and from this vantage,
They seem stock-still, so speedy is their way.
Fickle fate made he that seemed sea-bound
Follow instead an everlasting scut.
Love transformed the heavens for his death-mound.
A brother less malicious might have – but
Nocturnal, universal, he won’t stray
In endless search of his illusive prey.
*****
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Seth, As always you hit my heart. Orion has been my guide through many winters and his presence always allows me to feel grounded and at home, wherever I am. Thank you!
Sorry to post this way, but I see no other way to contact you. I just got a "thank you for subscribing" notice, even though I don't believe I ever subscribed -- I did read a couple of columns in the run-up to the midterms. I already subscribe to more than I have time to read. How do I undo this?