One drowsy afternoon, my eight-year-old self decided to browse the library shelves for a new exciting adventure to delve into. When I opened a simple children’s book on Egyptian myths out of sheer curiosity, my fascination with mythology had just begun.
Upon finishing the book, I immediately found myself scanning the shelves for more books and myths. The magical nature of the stories played a huge role in grabbing my attention as a young child, but over time, I grew to learn more about the lessons and themes the tales taught. It amazed me that another child who had lived thousands of years ago had listened to or read the same myths that I was reading in the present.
By third grade, I could name over 25 Egyptian gods and goddesses and their associated traits from memory. One unfortunate classmate made the mistake of asking me to explain the story of Osiris, the Egyptian god of the underworld, for a school project. Not only did I gleefully launch into a 30-minute lecture about his tragic demise, but I also proceeded to bore him to tears about the tragic love story between the goddess of magic, Isis, and Osiris. For me, mythology was my own little passion, something I took pride in and made me unique among my peers.
Most adults in my life found it funny when I went on my little rants about different myths, especially the more gruesome ones. It only fueled my thirst for more and eventually my knowledge grew to include Greek, Norse, Chinese and even Mayan mythology. When everyone started to read the Percy Jackson series, it made me so happy because I could finally apply my knowledge to the “trending” topics.
Mythology holds a special place in my heart because it sparked my creativity and drove me to always learn about new topics. Now that I’m older, I don’t have as much time to research, but sitting down with any myth in a quiet corner of the library takes me back to fond memories of my childhood. In hectic times, the myths are always there to help me escape from reality.