Last Blog Part Deux!

My favorite perspective on life is that it's a story. We are all the protagonists in our own stories with our own hopes, dreams, fears, and love. The people we meet in life may be major or minor characters, but they move the narrative that is our life along. You see while we are the main character in our lives, we are those minor characters in the lives of others, which seems like an easy concept to grasp, but sometimes its hard to let our egos be in the background. I myself forget sometimes that the people I meet are going through different versions of the same things that I am, they have different hurdles that may not seem large to me, but to them, they are a mountain. My favorite part of this class was getting a glimpse at everyone's stories. That is the purpose a myth. To look at someone else's story and feel and learn from it. It is such a powerful thing to open oneself up and let others see inside our worlds, and I thank everyone for letting me be a part of your story.

My last post, My Life as a Mythic Detective

William Jones

Lit 285: Mythologies

Michael Sexson

17 April 2013

My Life as a Mythic Detective

            What is a mythic Detective? I have been asking myself this all semester and I still am unsure if I’ve completely grasped the concept. In order to define something, you need to look at its parts. Google defines a detective as “a person whose occupation is to investigate and solve crimes,” while it defines mythic as “of, relating to, or resembling myth.” Therefore after looking at these parts, I have come to the conclusion that my occupation this semester has been to investigate the mythic occurrences of my life. That is to say, I needed to discover the precedent behind every action that occurs. After coming to that conclusion, I believe that I sat in a dark room and cried for at least a week.  How could I decipher all of that information! I was awestruck as I realized that the young man from Signs and Symbols must have been a former student of Professor Sexson, driven mad by his work as a mythic detective. He was doing what I must do; he was seeing that “great mountains of unbearable solidity and height sum up, in terms of granite and groaning firs, the ultimate truth of his being"

            I slowly pulled myself from the brink of this madness, came to my senses, and I began to just think about what I must do. I’ve always had a hard time spotting the forest because of the Trees, and then it hit me! Trees! I should start with trees. So I started reviewing my blog, and with that I began to remember. I rembembered the agonizing decision of which tree I would give my affections to. This brought to mind all of my fellow tree huggers, so that I recalled Amber hoppel’s photographs of her tree. This tree turned out to be a white Birch, which has since become the only tree I can classify with any sense of confidence.

            Thus my search had begun. I looked back and saw little clues I had left for myself, a photo I had saved on my phone: a crossword puzzle clue “a Narcissist’s Love.” The thought that death is the mother of all beauty, and the words of Sonnet 73 that I sent to my great-grandmother to let her know I care. This led me to finding Shakespeare’s sonnet 53.

                “what is your substance. Whereof are you made

                That millions of strange shadows on you tend?

                Since everyone hath every one, one shade,

                And you, but one, can every shadow lend.

                Describe Adonis, and its counterfeit

                And it is poorly imitated after you.

                On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set,

                And you in Grecian tires are painted new.

                Speak of the spring and foison of the Year

                The one doth shadows of your beauty show

                The other as your bounty doth appear

                And you in every blessed shape we know.

                In all external grace you have some part

                And you like none, none you, in constant heart.”

There was a multitude of little events that occurred on normal days, which made them anything but normal. I think the biggest moment for me occurred in a restroom of all places. I apologize if the following is crude, but lend me your ears for it is significant. In the pharmacy that I work, we have our own separate restroom, which I have used on numerous occasions over the year that I have worked back there. The moment occurred; as such moments are want to do, on a normal Saturday in March. I stood at the sink washing my hands, for cleanliness is next to godliness, and I happened to glance over. My gaze slid across the toilet and finally rested on the brand that was stamped upon its side, A single word in bold black letters “Toto”. My brain was immediately bombarded with questions. Who am I, what am I doing here, how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop!? Those thoughts vanished almost immediately (I suppress those multiple times during the day, and have gotten quite good at it) and were replaced by the single question “Why did they Name it Toto?” I came to the conclusion that I had been given a brief glimpse at the man behind the curtain. I had noticed this small and insignificant thing that had been in front of me for over a year, and only now does it seem profound. Toto: Dorothy’s dog that had travelled with her through a twister to the Land of Oz. Now Toto resides in the Wal-Mart Pharmacy restroom, automatically creating little twisters as it flushes, sending things to Oz multiple times a day.

            Now as I watch movies, I look for the Ovidian Stories within them. I look at works of art and try to coax form them the gods, their Love, Hate, Jealousy, and Wrath. I listen to music, knowing that Elvis is most definitely Orpheus and not Apollo. I’m fairly certain that as the snow flies, on a cold and gray Chicago morn, a poor little baby child is born, in the ghetto, and the rocks would cry, opening a path to the underworld. I read my Epic fantasy novels; I look among the knights and dragons, for signs that the Epic hates incest. And here at the end, at the lifting of the veil, I See the forest, but it is the trees I truly appreciate.

 

Mythology, Art, Controversy

I was recently reading an article" 5 Amazing Stories of One Complaint Ruining it for Everyone" (http://www.cracked.com/article_20343_5-amazing-stories-one-complaint-ruining-it-everyone.html)
this brought me to Number 4 of this list where a student (a single person) on the campus of El Paso Community College was offended by this painting by Peter Paul Rubens "Saturn Devouring His Son"




it was a magazine cut out that was part of a Student's collage for art appreciation, and the collage was removed because another student wrote a letter of protest saying it offended her beliefs. Eventually in protest of the censorship, the entire display from the class was removed. I found this story kind of sad because I found the painting not only beautiful, but an interesting display of the myth. This seemed to follow in the vein of finding artworks to go along with any of the myths we read, so I figured I would post it for everyone to look at and appreciate. I think everyone is entitled to their own oppinion about liking the art work, but don't let those opinions ruin it for others. Here's the link to the school newspaper that reported the incident (http://www.epcc.edu/TejanoTribune/Archives/Nov.%205,%202009.pdf) also the original article where I found out about this is posted above.

Scientists with a Sense of Humor

As a science major, I often times find some of the materials in lectures or readings to be very dry and lifeless. Not to say that it isn't interesting, its just that Science can be so full of FACTS! Every now and then though I hear or read something from the science community that seems to come out of left field and completely engross me. That being said I learned some very interesting and mythological things in my Advanced Cell & Molecular Biology class on Wednesday.
So First comes the interesting information: The first cloned mammal was a sheep named Dolly, and she was named after Dolly Parton. Now I see in your eyes the question: Why was she named after Dolly Parton... Well Dolly was cloned from a Mammary Gland of another sheep. Boom! I just immediately became interested in not only this lecture, but the miracles of science once again.

one of these is a sheep.

Now that I'm actually listening to the lecture, we stumble upon the mythological part of class.
The current lecture is about Stem Cells, and we come to a slide on growth factors that are expressed by stem cells, Oct4(boring), SOX2(boring), Nanog(wait a tick that seems different).
Apparently the last factor their (Nanog) was named for Tir Na Nog, the Land of Eternal Youth from Irish legends. So I of course had to dig into this and find out about this myth.

The Legend of Tir Na Nog
The Land of Youth

Long ago, on an isle of emerald green, surrounded by a sea of azure blue, there lived a young man named Oisin.

Oisin liked to explore the moors with the Fianna, ancient warrior-hunters.

One day, when Oisin and the Fianna were out hunting, they saw an extraordinary sight. It was a beautiful young woman with long red hair, riding on a spirited white mare. The sun glistened off the maiden's hair, casting a magical golden light.

The mare's movements were so fluid that she appeared to float across the ground. As her rider brought her to a stop before the group, the horse's hooves struck at the field stones impatiently, sending small sparks into the air.

"My name is Niamh," the woman said, in a voice that sounded like the music of a harp. "My father is the king of Tir Na Nog."

Oisin stepped forward from the group of hunters to welcome the rider. As his eyes met Niamh's, they fell in love.

"Come with me to Tir Na Nog," Niamh pleaded to her new found love. After only a moment's hesitation, Oisin swung up behind Niamh onto the white horse.

Together, they crossed the sea to Tir Na Nog.

 

Having grown up on the Emerald Isle, Oisin would never have believed that a more beautiful land existed. But, as he gazed upon Tir Na Nog, he was stunned by the beauty around him.

In this magical land, Niamh and Oisin built a life together. They spent each day exploring Tir Na Nog with the white mare. Niamh and Oisin's love grew deeper as Niamh shared the beauty of her enchanted homeland.

300 years passed as though it were but a single day. No one in Tir Na Nog ever grew old or fell sick. They lived in endless, youthful moments filled with happiness.

In spite of the beauty of the land and the deep love that Niamh and Oisin shared for each other, a small part of Oisin's soul knew loneliness.

Such feelings were unheard of in Tir Na Nog. But in spite of her efforts, Niamh was unable to ease Oisin's loneliness.

So, when Oisin came to Niamh and told her of his desire to return to Ireland to see his family and the Fianna again, she could not hold him back.

"All right," said Niamh. "Return to Ireland on the back of the white mare. But my dear, your foot must not touch the soil of Ireland!"

Immediately Oisin rode the white horse back across the sea to the land of his birth.

But, as soon as the mare's hooves touched Ireland's soil, Oisin realized how much the land had changed. Oisin's family and friends had long passed away. Their grand castle was over grown with ivy.

Oisin was so caught up in his quest to find his family and his grief at their loss, that he forgot to care for the beautiful white horse. In spite of her hunger and fatigue she continued to respond to her rider.

Finally, with a sad heart, Oisin turned the mare back toward the sea to return to Tir Na Nog.

Approaching the sea, he came upon a group of men working in a field. As the mare reached the group, her fatigue caused her to stumble. Her hoof hit a stone. Oisin bent down to pick up the rock, planning to take it to Tir Na Nog. He was sure that it would ease his sadness to carry a piece of Ireland back with him.

But as his hand grasped the stone, Oisin lost his balance and fell to the ground.

Within moments, Oisin aged 300 years.

Without her rider, the mare reared up and rushed into the ocean, returning to Tir Na Nog and her beloved Niamh.

When the men in the field witnessed this, they were amazed. Not only had they seen a young man age before their eyes, they had also seen a tired old plow horse transformed into a beautiful silver-white mare, who raced into the sea.

The men went to Oisin's aid and carried him to St. Patrick.

When Oisin met St. Patrick, he told Patrick of the his family and the Fianna, who had disappeared from Ireland almost 300 years before. Then he told St. Patrick of Niamh and the magical land of Tir Na Nog.

As Oisin ended his story, a great weariness swept over him and he closed his eyes in eternal slumber.

Even to this day, the fishermen and lighthouse keepers still tell of foggy nights when the moon is full, and they see a shimmering white horse dancing in the waves along the shores of Ireland. Some say that the red-haired maiden who rides the horse still searches for Oisin.

http://www.horsesoftirnanog.org/legend.htm

 

 

 

To Put Aside the Serpents

The Woman and the Husband loved their son, though he was not their own. Conceived by an affair, and orphaned by the death of her sister, the boy came to be raised by the Woman and the Husband. The boy grew and prospered, and as he prospered so did they. His every success became theirs, the Woman talked of his accomplishments to all she saw. Thus the Woman and the Husband were satisfied with their wonderful life. There were those however that were not content. The Old Wife lived down the street, and she did not approve. Who were these people to raise a child of sin, the Old Wife felt slighted by their happiness, so she fumed and plotted.

There was a dark part of the town, that no one really entered willingly. This was one of those places where the shady people lived their lives in monotony. Always striving to leave, but inevitably never making any progress. It was in this place the Old Wife sought the instrument of her plotting. The Old Wife knew of an Angry One that lived here, who would undertake any sort of task, as long as the price was right. She strode under the streetlight, dogs barking in the night, as if she were the queen of the world. She pounded upon the Angry One's door until he answered. She bemoaned her fallen pride, and agreed to any price. The Angry One, whether moved by her story or her payment, agreed to avenge her. The Old Wife left, walking through a mist of rain, pleased to see her revenge unfold.

He could see them from where he stood in their backyard, light poured from their windows illuminating everything within. He could here there laughter, their happiness, even at a distance. No one else in the neighborhood seemed awake. His snake skin boots echoed on the concrete as he walked beside their pool. How could they not hear his coming? They only had to glance outside to see him, but the Woman and the Husband were blind to their fate. The Angry One bellowed as he kicked down their burnished oak door from its hinges. He stalked into their house, fire bursting from his hand as he shot with his pistol. The Woman screamed in terror, the Husband froze in fright. This fear would be his undoing, as he was the first to feel the bite of the Angry One's bullet. Pain blossomed in his mind like a searing madness. The Angry One fired again and again and again at the Husband, until only the walls held any semblance of the man he once was. The woman ran, mad with grief, fear aiding her feet, but it was all for naught. The Angry One opened fire once more, and then she too felt the bite of his bullets. She fell into the pool, it was so much warmer than she expected, its waters like a final, loving embrace. His work done the Angry One sank back into the night, his boots so quiet now as he walked away.

It was all anyone could talk about the next day. The housewives cried and shook as they called one another. Each one not so aghast at the tragedy, that they couldn't call everyone that they knew. Oh didn't you hear, the Woman next door, shot dead in her home. The whole town was so mortified by this cruel and senseless act. All except the Old Wife, she peered out her window as they wheeled the bodies away, and smiled inwardly at every conversation she overheard about the event. Such irrelevant women she thought, as they chattered away like gulls to the woman who had arranged it all.

Mythologies Theme Song

I heard this song listening to Pandora and it completely reminded me of Mythologies. Mythic Detective work strikes again
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5sXSix359M

Signs and Symbols

I know its a little late for the Signs and Symbols discussion, but I tried my hardest not to listen to any of the discussion in class so as not to become biased.

As I was reading the story I jotted down notes and I'll just repost them and go from there

Everything went wrong
-The train, the bus, the walk. This seemed to me like the world telling them not to visit their son. The loss of life of the train was chance, the wait for the bus coincidence, and the rain on their walk is Design.

-Tiny unfledged bird in a puddle- This bird is a metaphor for their son, unfledged, meaning wings are not large enough for flight, therefore it crashes to the earth.This to me was one of the most powerful images linking the story to Daedalus and Icarus, and foreshadowing the son's possible death.

The names really jumped out at me, but I think I was looking to deep. Rebecca Borisovna- rebecca is biblical but the significance of the last name (which apparently means short/wolf) doesn't make sense, the father's brother Isaac "the Prince"-son of Abraham, biblical, so should we call the father Ishmael? also the mother talks of another family whose surname is Soloveichiks, which interestingly I learned (from epic google searching) means Nightingale in russian.

The other major allusion to Icarus,was when they describe the first time the child tried to kill himself "masterpiece of Inventiveness" (Daedalus-master inventor), learning to fly but wanted to tear a hole into his world. Much as Daedalus wanted to escape his world, so did the son wish to escape and fly away

Everything is a Cipher, and He is the Theme- This was profound to me because, you assume that the son is crazy, but how do we know this? The world shows him the symbols and he is the theme, they dont see them because they aren't about anyone but him, Like UPS, you notice thing when they are made apparent

I really liked when the illness was explained and how it kept building to a crescendo until it became that "great mountains of unbearable solidity and height sum up, in terms of granite and groaning firs [symbols only the son can decipher], the ultimate truth of his being"

the Parents' appartment is on the 3rd floor landing (threes again)

3 cards fall from the deck-- Knave(Jack) of hearts, 9 (3 sets of 3s) of spades, Ace of Spades
I thought the cards were significant so I googled all of them obsessively and was suprised by my results!!

So I plan on reading a bit deeply into this but These cards specifically foreshadow the death of the Son

Jack of Hearts A warm-hearted friend. A fair-haired youth; or a young person with Water signs predominating in his or her chart. ( most of this seems like gobbledy gook, but I took that jack of hearts means a young male)
9 of Spades Illness, accident, bad luck. The querent is at his/her personal low.
Ace of Spades Misfortune; sometimes associated with death or, more often, a difficult ending.
website where I got this rock solid information
http://www.cafeastrology.com/fortunetellingcards.html
Its pretty obvious that Nabokov was trying to tell us that the Son was going to die, and I've finally figured out that mystery.

More threes
The 3 colors in the jars: yellow, green, red
which according to color astrology...
Yellow- the most positive color, closest to light
Green- healing,life, and rebirth.
Red-passion, masculinity, danger
so you can read into those what you want, the cards were my masterpiece of intellect

My try at Art Appreciation

As I look at this painting I'm struck by all of the red, which seems to imbue a passion into the scene, and I really liked the interpretation that the curtains set a stage. I see the woman weaving at the forefront as Arachnae. She seems to have this look of haughtyness, the position of her head and hand bely a sense of arrogance, like she is telling the woman holding the curtain of how superior her weaving is. I also like the idea that although she is wrapped in clothing she bares her leg to the thigh, which shows her indecency/lack of respect, which is how she acts towards Athena. I think the ladder in the background is really a key transition between the two scenes(front/back). It represents reaching a higher place, as Arachnae reaches above her station to flaunt her skills to Athena, the shading has the ladder beginning in light and ending in darkness, like Arachnae has reached too far and ventured into a place she should not be, because you cannot see a God's form, she has reached into a place she should not see.
For the background you really again see Arachnae's arrogance, she stands the the middle as the center of attention her hands displayed in a show of exaltance at what she has done. Ovid gives the impression that Arachnae's weave was just as good if not better than Athena's, yet her weave isn't displayed in the painting. I believe the tapestry displayed is Athena's as it has a brightness to it and contains heavenly figures in good light. I like that Athena is fully clothed for battle with her spear upraised, as if this is the moment before she curses Arachnae. I'm also interested in what the woman on the far right is thinking, because she is the only one looking to the forefront, while the others stare towards Athena and Arachnae. Maybe she is bringing the two together in the sense that she is looking at what Arachnae did to be in this situation (gossiping to the woman holding the curtain?)

 

 

Also thought these close ups might be cool to look at, didnt know there was a cat in this picture, they're not just all over the internet, but Spanish Baroque art as well! 

 

Detective of Stories

As stated in my previous blog, I was in a void without inspiration, when suddenly inspiration was thrust upon me. Now like I've said before, one of my favorite hobbies is reading. Sometimes I will read 2-3 books at a time, bouncing back and forth between them, but lately I've fallen in love with audiobooks. I listen to them in my car, when I pick up my house, hell anytime you see me on campus with earbuds in, I'm most likely listening to a book on tape. Now this obsession with audiobooks actually began sometime over last summer due to the ending of my favorite book series, The Wheel of Time.
The first book in this series was released in 1991, and the final (14th) volume was just released this January. I first started this series in highschool, and I have reread it multiple times. My tradition usually involves me restarting the series everytime a new book is slated to be released (don't worry I've only had to do this three times). The author himself passed away in 2007 after the release of the 11th book, and they had a ghost writer finish the series from his notes and ideas that he left prior to his death. So needless to say the ending has been a long time coming, and I'm eager to finish it, but I'm still trying to finish my rereading before I can jump into book 14. This is where my audiobooks jump in, becaus my last rereads, have been on the audio version of the previous books.

this isn't even all of them...

 But since my last blog I have been trying to look at the stories in a way a mythic detective would, and it's been pretty enlightning. I was trying to break each book into where it would fit into the Seperation-Initiation-Return area, and I realized that the first 2-3 books are each of the Characters' seperation story, and that books 4-12 are all INITIATIONS! It slowly dawned on me that the bulk of story in each of these books is just pain, and pain, oh and more pain for the characters, it seems like every continuation is another trial by fire (in some cases literally). The thing about this is you see the change everytime they go throught these trials. the main characters in the first book are nothing like themselves in the 5th, hell even themselves in the 5th are changed by the time they reach the 6th.

So i've begun looking at the symbols within the books, and you have a faction that is represented by the snake eating its own tail as seen above(Ouroboros is the actual term), which is a symbol of continuation and immortality.
Another symbol which is described in the book is The Yin-Yang symbol. In the book it is the symbol of the ancient male and female users of the one power, and much like in real-life, it is used to symbolize the balace between the male and female halves of life.
I think my favorite mythological part of the writing though is the opening paragraph that is the same in each book, this is from the very first one
"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning."

Stale Detective Work

So I have had an extremely hard time lately to find some sort of inspiration to blog about. I have been thinking that I must be the worst Mythic Detective alive. Nothing has really popped out at me that seems very mythic, or mythological in nature.

 So I am an avid reader and I was finishing a book last night and a line jumped out at me and made me think that maybe, I have just been passing by all these little clues and I should pay more attention.
The context of the line is that two characters are talking about stories, and one says that all stories intertwine, and that good and evil are more complex than a princess and a dragon, because the dragon has its own stories that make the dragon who it is. The other then counters that there must then be no simple stories, which led to this passage
"That is a complicated matter. The heart of the tale and the ideas behind it are simple. Time has altered and condensed their nuances, made them more than story, greater than the sums of their parts. But that requires time. The truest tales require time and familiarity to become what they are."

This was they book I finished if anyone is interested

This really hit me because I was thinking of Ovid and how I have read and reread these tales and they are so familiar, but that every time I read them again I learn new things and see new perspectives in the pages. The line about the truest tales (myths!) require time and familiarity to become what they are, was just what I needed to hear. This was the mythic universe telling me I needed time and familiarity to interpret the world around me as myth. So with that in mind I returned to my detective work. Which I will continue on another blog, because it has its own seperate kind of them.

Personal Initiation

Unfortunately, due to a very sick girlfriend, I will not be attending class today. But in spite of that I still have my computer, and she happens to be a part of my subject so I figured I would do a little blogging.

Now we were asked to do a modern day initiation rite that we have gone through in our lives and I immediately thought of the first time I met my girlfriends family. This to me is one of those things that we all experience at sometime or another. At some point in a relationship it becomes time to meet your significant others' family. They've heard about you, you've heard about them, and now you have to essentially bring these two worlds together. You each have to go through a sort of initiation where you're introduced and you kind of feel each other out, checking boundaries, and trying to find out where you fit in this new "tribe". Sometimes this is easy, yet it can be awkward and painful so to me that makes this the perfect modern day initiation rite.


Now the first time I met my girlfriend's family it was the 4th of July weekend, and we drove to her home to stay with them for the weekend. So she is the youngest daughter of 13 children, and I was a little nervous because in my head I knew that they thought I was essentially stealing their baby. Thankfully only a few siblings were going to be there this weekend, so I thought I might be able to get off lightly, little did I know that this was not going to be the case. As soon as we walked into the door I was met by one of the older sisters (refered to as R) and sister-in-law. The first thing they did was call me by my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend's name (Zach) and things began to proceed down hill from there. I quickly learned that this was going to be a trial by fire, that even the Spanish Inquisition would have been proud of.

Her sister R, was one of those people that absolutely loved to push boundaries. Now my own family can be quite a handful, so thankfully I was prepared for some harsh blows. R spent much of our first afternoon drilling me with questions, who are you, where are you from, how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? I handled much of this with ease, taking the occasional ex-boyfriend jokes in stride, while my girlfriend became increasingly annoyed at her sister (as sisters are wont to do) until eventually the straw that broke the camels back appeared. R noticing that my girlfriend had become increasingly perturbed, looked at me and Said "AJ, why can't you make her happy, Zach used to make her happy" at this point all activity ceased and my girlfriend exploded! (verbally not literally) She then ran out of the room and refused to speak to anyone except her mother. Which of course made R mad because now mom was mad at her. So we had to spend the rest of the evening in a mixture of awkward silences and angry stares accross the room.
Eventually things were patched up and it was time for bed, now up to this point there hadn't been much conversation between the Father and I, but to make up for that he arranged a pallet for me on the floor in front of his massive gun safe. I knew this would be a great weekend. The next morning I awoke and had some coffee with my girlfriend's brother and friend, which was great because we got along well. I just knew my luck was turning around and today would be awesome. Then the telephone rang, Mother and Father had just left to go to the store, and Father had backed his truck into a silver car in the driveway, He was in a hurry so he'd take care of it later... Of course the silver car was my car. Despite this and the many other things that occured over the weekend, I was able to pull through and not run away crying like a small child, this cemented my place in the family, because ties forged in battle are stronger than steel, and to this day I can't help but laugh at it all, because once you hit rock bottom there's no where to go but up!
(Disclaimer: I love my girlfriend's family, they're great and I wouldn't have them any other way, but they sure know how to give a guy Hell)

Thinking back on this now I see that this was definately a sort of initiation. While lacking in physical pain, there were definately some tense moments emotionally. These types of meetings are really like I said earlier, a kind of welcoming of someone into the tribe. The family really tests you to see if you are "worthy" of being with someone from within their circle, sure the test may be if you can take a joke, or what your intentions are for the future, but they really are trying to see if you can contribute to the overall "wealth" of the family. That fact is what makes this an initiation, because it still seems kind of primal a way, and you know that although we as a culture may have changed, there were still guys thousands of years ago that had to prove to a family that they were worth something in order to court a daughter.

Initiation of a Warrior: Going Berserk

After looking through Eliade's Initiation myths I came upon the Story of Berserkers, and this really intriqued me, so Since I don't see that anyone else has posted about this initiation ceremony, I'm going to go ahead and snag it. Here is the link if anyone would like a preview.

http://www.mircea-eliade.com/from-primitives-to-zen/145.html

Long overdue Lecture notes

these lecture notes are a tad overdue, so I thought I would play catch up and get them in now before the Quiz next week.

1/11/13
Pay no attention to the man behind the Curtain


Basic Myth:
1. Seperation
2. Initiation
3. Return

*bookmark blogs as most recent
-From Primatives to Zen
      -Resource Book: Mircae Eliade
-Pain is associated with initiation, pain is a learning experience

Beginnings----> Creation
Middles--------> Initiation
Ends------------> Death/Return

Sparagmos--> tear,rend, pull to pieces. an act of mangling
 *Pentheus is dismembered by his mother at the order of Bacchus--> birth of sparagmos

01/14/13

-Be alert to what you hear and say as Detective
     *Hug a tree and put on blog*
-1st stage of Mythological Hero = The Call to Adventure


-Bacchus on the corner of Wilson and Main
-All fairytales are deteriorated Myths

Frogs are from Jersey, with terrible table manners

-Monomyth- Wikipage
"Education is not information, its Transformation."

Unlisted Date

*Cave of Forgotten Dreams
*Death is the mother of beauty*
    -Shakespeare sonnet 73
-Definition of Virgin: See Olive Oil
-Human Nature: you always want what you cannot have (Appollo and Daphne)
Etiology- the study of causation

In Ilo Tempore--->
The Hero w/ a Thousand Faces
  EPIC

Eliade
* what most creation myths
1. Creation ex nihilo ( out of nothing)
2. Creation through Earth Diver
       - God dives through ocean to bring up the world
3. Ceation by dividing in two the original mass
4. Creation by dismemberment of divine being

Mon-Friday
I have all the creation myths written down in order, really long and probably not relevant to put them all on here

02/04/13

4 quartets (#4: little gidding)---> T.S. Eliot

*Arrive where we started and know it for the first time*
      -not known because not looked for
Initiation: presentation- painful growing pains, pain, gruesome

3 parts
- creation, initiation, apocolypse

-initiation myths *see Eliade* associated w/pain
tell a gruesome story
*3 minutes. gruesome.

*first quiz= 15th of February
1. Know Creation stories (he'll specify)
2. what stories from Ovid you need to know

Ovid--> no diety, creation from chaos, then God or Nature, calmed the elements---> world not complete w/out man, Prometheus Created Man.

Gold--> Silver-->Bronze-->Iron : Declining Ages

Adam: Live in the sweat of your brow, and when you die return to dust
Eve: pain of child birth
Snake: on your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat

Apocolypse---> APO-Calypso--> un-covering (the veil is lifted)
Catholic---> All embracing

Monological--> one thought
*Find interesting that which is boring*


02/06/13

Death, Afterlife, Eschatology

Eschatology: Study of end times

The middle is where we DO things
    - talk about the bad things- pain and suffering
Ritual---> performed mainly for symbolic calue
   *Rituals accepted as initiation
Sacrafice- to make sacred

no pain---> no gain

Stories for the test
1. Apollo and Daphne. 2. Io's transformation. 3. Pan's pipes (syrinx's transformation). 4. Callisto. 5. Peacocks and Argus. 6. Europa. 7. Cadmus. 8. Actaeon. 9. Semele. 10. Teirisris. 11. Narcissus. 12. Penthus. 13 Orpheus. 14. Pygmalian. 15. Mirra and Adonis.
Creation and the Flood

My New Mythologies Proffessor

I know I have posted a dream already, but last night I had a dream that was about as mythological as one could get, because it involved our Mythologies class. Having just woken up I have to get this out immediately before any part of it fades, so I shall begin

The Setting: Mythologies class

I have been waiting hours to present my myth to the class. I was unfortunately situated to go last and although there have been very creative myths, no one adhered to the 3 minute policy, instead there was one guy that completely acted out Ovid's Metomorphoses. Now its my time to present, and for some reason Professor Sexson is Ryan Gosling

Now as I go to the front of the class and I realize I'm only wearing underwear, and i become extremely nervous. Dispite this nervousness, I give my speech (which upon waking i still remember)

This is the story of how Posiedon became known as the Earthshaker. You see Zeus fell in love with this beautiful wood nymph and they went on to make beautiful nymph babies, unfortunately for Zeus this wood nymph is a trickey Ho, and she's been running around behind his back with his brother Posiedon. Now Hades is visiting Olympus on the Winter Solstice, which is the only time he's allowed to visit. He sees Zeus' main wood nymph and falls quickly in love. He doesn't know what to do so he confides in Posiedon. Posiedon, tells him that she will sleep with anyone, in fact he's been fooling around with her, so Hades takes her to the underworld to become his mistress. Suddenly Zeus realizes she is missing and confronts Hades, who tells him, that Posiedon Made him do it! So Zeus grabs Posiedon and hurls him off of Mount Olympus. As Posiedon Crashes down, the whole earth begins to shake and mountains and valleys form, where non before existed, which is why we have mountains on the earth, and Posiedon can make earthquakes. (Now at some point I realize that my underwear has fallen off and I'm completely nude, but I quickly recover my garments and cover myself up, never stopping the story)

So the myth is over and everyone leaves, then Prof. Sexson/Ryan Gosling comes up and says "Bro, you were naked through like half of your story, now I didn't say anything because I didn't want to point it out."
and my response is "Screw it, at least it was a good story"

I woke up laughing this morning and had to post this.

Rites of Passage

I just so happened to be reading funny articles on my phone and as I was refreshing the page, guess what the number one new article was...
5 most intense rights of passage from around the world.

And since it seems that the world is doing all my mythic detective work for me I thought I would share the article just to help stimulate some ideas on painful initiations for everyone

http://www.cracked.com/blog/the-5-most-intense-rites-passage-from-around-world/

Similarities in creation

It seemed to me like our creation myths all touched upon each of the 4 common themes, and as Prof. Sexton pointed out, we had more than a few earth diver myths.
One of the things that jumped out at me for those was how there were at least 2-3 in which a duck was the animal to dive and retrieve the earth.
I was also surprised at how many of the myths encompassed a reason to why there were different colored peoples populating the world.
Another common theme was water, almost every one of the myths had some symbolic use of water, be that it was the great nothingness, or that it flooded the world creating new beginnings, or that a primordial beings tears created the earths water.
It also intrigued me that only middle earth earth was created by kick as beats, and I would have loved to have recorded that performance because it was great!

Origins of a Superstition

In light of GroundHog's Day I was reading an article from the Today Show on 13 superstitions that are still persistent today, and their origins. It was all pretty common place until I came upon this one...
Umbrella opened indoors

Featurepics.com

Why is it so wrong to open an umbrella indoors?
Because you don't want to offend the spirit of the umbrella, silly!
Consider these insights from Richard Webster's reference work "The Encyclopedia of Superstitions":
"A common superstition is the belief that opening an umbrella inside a house causes bad luck. The origin of this is that the umbrella acts as a shield against the sun or rain outdoors. To open it indoors offends the spirit of the umbrella, who will cause bad luck to occur as a result."

I had never thought about why you're not supposed to open the umbrella indoors, and now knowing the reason, it makes me laugh, because that is as mythological as you can get! Trying not to offend the spirit of the umbrella, because all things have a spirit.

Shakespeare and Coincidence

I've been thinking so much lately about other things that I haven't had much time to think about mythologies. But I kept recalling the lecture about Adonis and the trees, and how we talked about Shakespeare's sonnets. It really struck me when professor Sexson said that death is beauty. I think that's such a powerful statement because you never realize what you have until it's gone. And a line in my creation myth jumped out at me because it said Death is hunger, and I thought of the contrasts between beauty and hunger and thought it must be merely coincidence to see them both described this way.
So in light of the Shakespeare's sonnet I wanted to email my great grandmother a copy of the sonnet as well as just talk to her. Not having my notes near me I couldn't remember the number of the sonnet, so thinking it was 53 I googled that, and lo and behold this is what I stumbled upon (see attached photo)
And again I was struck by the coincidence of Adonis and Helen coming forth in this sonnet, the imagery used in comparing their beauties to nothing besides the person No. 53 is directed towards. I don't think I would have truly appreciated these words as much had we not talked of the two great beauties Helen and Adonis . So being the loving boyfriend I am I immediately sent that to my girlfriend using Shakespeare as it is meant to used, to woo the ladies.
But on a more serious note,
This again brought to mind how there is no coincidence, I feel for the first time so far in this class that I am on the path of a mythic detective, and the clues are beginning to pile up.

Oh the humanity!

I find myself lacking any motivation to blog this week, and that seemed like a perfect way to segway into my next thought, on how "human" everything in the metomorphoses is. After the lecture in class on Daphne and Apollo, I found myself recalling the story of Athena and Arachne.
One of the things that really jumped out at me while reading this story, is the fault of pride that Arachne continues to show, she never once thought to hold her tongue in front of the goddesss and this leads to her eventual demise. While at the same time Ovid's writing really gives you a sense of how jealous Athena is of Arachne's skill. You see that Athena believes that Arachne's weaving is superior to hers, but rather than admit it, she turns transforms Arachne into a spider.

I could see,I think,  one of the common threads through these stories in Metomorphoses, is how utterly human these gods and heroes are. They all carry distinct faults that show up in each story they are in. They all lie, cheat, steal, love, and hate in much the same fashion as we all do throughout our lives. Cupids Anger at Apollo and his revenge, Apollo's lust for Daphne, Daphne's disdain of Apollo, Arachne's pride, and Athena's jealousy. In each of  These gods resides the epitome of human emotion/the human condition, which is so very relatable to each and every one of us.

Creation myth

http://www.mircea-eliade.com/from-primitives-to-zen/058.html
This link is to the Upanishads creation myth so hopefully no one else had claimed this one

Tree Hugging

Just some plain ole skin on bark action

I Dreamed a Dream...

First off please excuse the reference in the title. It made me laugh to myself like an idiot, so I couldn't resist. That being said let us get to the meat of this post.

In the name of research for this class I decided to imbibe a little last night (I am of legal age) because I've found that alcohol gives me some crazy dreams. And behold last night Morpheus came down to my bedside and fashioned me a dream worth telling

(Actual Visual Approximation of the Event)

Now I will admit that I cannot recall the majority of what happened in the beginning of the dream, I remember a vague sense of wandering and searching. The bulk of what I do remember occured near the end of the dream, and upon waking I hurried to my computer lest I forget to tell my tale.
Towards the end of the dream I find myself in an attic, that looks a lot like my grandparent's basement, but is an attic nonetheless. I began searching through the piles of boxes and discarded items full of dust and debris, when I turn a corner and there infront of me is the embodiment of all that is evil...a cardboard cutout of Darth Vader. As soon as I saw it the whole room began to darken, as if he was sucking all the light from the world. This act froze me in place and sent an eerie chill to the very depths of my soul. Vader slowly began taking on life, no longer a mere cardboard cutout, but a full fledged sith lord weilding a lightsaber. He didn't try to tempt me to join the darkside, but he began pulling in all the the light, everylight everywhere, even the light inside me. It was at this point I cried for help, I sent my will forth and begged for mercy for all that was inside me was terror and pain. Then as if answering my cry, God decended into the attic and stood by my side. He was just a large ball of light, the brightest light I have ever seen, yet still i was able to look at him, this had me thinking oh a ball of light from the heavens this has to be God.The feeling in the dream was one of total calm, his presence was like a balm for my terror and it filled me with unimaginable joy. That was of course the moment he restored my light and told me it was time to kick Darth Vader's ass. So we stood toghether and began drawing upon our light and hurling it at the void that was Vader, and we overwhelmed him and his darkness, to the point that he became a mere cardboard cutout once again, and all the world was safe. God flew away or blinked out, not sure which, and I was left alone in an attic with Darth Vader and a sense of peace.
The end

Trouble with Primitives to Zen

Is anyone else having trouble connecting to the Eliade website? I've been trying to get on this morning but I keep getting a connection error.

A semi-happy ending

So I think I've found one of the better stories with a happy ending. Finishing the story of Perseus I found myself, for once in this book, not feeling bad for the hero. This so far seems to be the only story in which the hero has his cake and gets to eat it too. This was refreshing because I have pretty much steeled myself to the fact that everyone in this bool is going to die horribly or be transformed into a tree/animal, so nice to see the good guy kill 200 people at his wedding and live to take down the Tyrant. Also after reading the blurb at the beginning of the book I had to google the statue of Perseus by Cellini to see if it lived up to my expectations, which it does.

Thoughts On the Book 01/14/13

Thoughts on the Book 01/14/13

I think one of the hardest things for me on this blog is going to be putting thoughts on the book down in a timely manner. With that said I'm going to try to sum up a lot of what I've read in as short a way possible.
I'm a pretty fast reader, and over the Christmas break I found myself without a book to read, which is a cardinal sin in my opinion. So I moseyed down to the bookstore and seeing that we only had one book to read for the semester I figured I'd jump into it head first.

One of the first books I ever remember falling in love with was this big book of Greek mythologies with pictures and stories that were absolutely fantastic and I was mesmerized by it.

This book really paved the way for my love of reading, which just to clarify extends to books that have stories and are enjoyable, I have a deep burning hatred for textbooks which are the bane of my existence at this point in time.

So lets get back to my original point, finding myself without a book I picked up Metamorphoses and began delving in to old and beloved stories. The first thing that really jumped out at me was the lack of Greek Names! I spent the first couple of stories in a days wondering who the hell these people were. Don't get me wrong I knew Juno=Hera, Bacchus=Dionysus, etc. but the absolute lack of familiarity of names really threw me a curve, it was like rehearing these stories all over again. I seriously went through the entire first book thinking Phoebus and Apollo were two different people and I think it just clicked for me yesterday that Jove was Zeus.

That being said though the stories are so familiar that the names really didn't matter, although the Glossary of the names in the back was a godsend, the basic idea/life of these stories remain the same and I look forward to hearing more about them in class and remembering them more as I read on in the book.

Lecture Notes 01/09/2013

Looking over my notes from the first lecture I find that I pretty much have a random jumble of phrases, so in order not to sully the creative works of impromptu note taking I will just report them as is.

Mythologies 01/09/2013

-Mythos = Stories
   -Mythology = The precedent behind all actions (as in what comes before)
   - Useful to tell stories

In Ilo Tempore- In the great/big time

All stories
1. beginning
2. middle
3. end

Logos- The word, Anabases- Rises Up, Catabases- Down
Moses- He who is drawn from water

*Find a creation myth

Mythology = Mythos + Logos = True Stories

Creation Myths

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The Norse Creation Myth

abstracted from The Prose Edda of Snorri Sturluson
by

D. L. Ashliman
© 1997-2010

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Muspell

The first world to exist was Muspell, a place of light and heat whose flames are so hot that those who are not native to that land cannot endure it.
Surt sits at Muspell's border, guarding the land with a flaming sword. At the end of the world he will vanquish all the gods and burn the whole world with fire.

Ginnungagap and Niflheim

Beyond Muspell lay the great and yawning void named Ginnungagap, and beyond Ginnungagap lay the dark, cold realm of Niflheim.
Ice, frost, wind, rain and heavy cold emanated from Niflheim, meeting in Ginnungagap the soft air, heat, light, and soft air from Muspell.

Ymir

Where heat and cold met appeared thawing drops, and this running fluid grew into a giant frost ogre named Ymir.

Frost ogres

Ymir slept, falling into a sweat. Under his left arm there grew a man and a woman. And one of his legs begot a son with the other. This was the beginning of the frost ogres.

Audhumla

Thawing frost then became a cow called Audhumla. Four rivers of milk ran from her teats, and she fed Ymir.

Buri, Bor, and Bestla

The cow licked salty ice blocks. After one day of licking, she freed a man's hair from the ice. After two days, his head appeared. On the third day the whole man was there. His name was Buri, and he was tall, strong, and handsome.
Buri begot a son named Bor, and Bor married Bestla, the daughter of a giant.

Odin, Vili, and Vé

Bor and Bestla had three sons: Odin was the first, Vili the second, and Vé the third.
It is believed that Odin, in association with his brothers, is the ruler of heaven and earth. He is the greatest and most famous of all men.

The death of Ymir

Odin, Vili, and Vé killed the giant Ymir.
When Ymir fell, there issued from his wounds such a flood of blood, that all the frost ogres were drowned, except for the giant Bergelmir who escaped with his wife by climbing onto a lur [a hollowed-out tree trunk that could serve either as a boat or a coffin]. From them spring the families of frost ogres.

Earth, trees, and mountains

The sons of Bor then carried Ymir to the middle of Ginnungagap and made the world from him. From his blood they made the sea and the lakes; from his flesh the earth; from his hair the trees; and from his bones the mountains. They made rocks and pebbles from his teeth and jaws and those bones that were broken.

Dwarfs

Maggots appeared in Ymir's flesh and came to life. By the decree of the gods they acquired human understanding and the appearance of men, although they lived in the earth and in rocks.

Sky, clouds, and stars

From Ymir's skull the sons of Bor made the sky and set it over the earth with its four sides. Under each corner they put a dwarf, whose names are East, West, North, and South.
The sons of Bor flung Ymir's brains into the air, and they became the clouds. Then they took the sparks and burning embers that were flying about after they had been blown out of Muspell, and placed them in the midst of Ginnungagap to give light to heaven above and earth beneath. To the stars they gave appointed places and paths. The earth was surrounded by a deep sea. The sons of Bor gave lands near the sea to the families of giants for their settlements.

Midgard

To protect themselves from the hostile giants, the sons of Bor built for themselves an inland stonghold, using Ymir's eyebrows. This stonghold they named Midgard.

Ask and Embla

While walking along the sea shore the sons of Bor found two trees, and from them they created a man and a woman.
Odin gave the man and the woman spirit and life. Vili gave them understanding and the power of movement. Vé gave them clothing and names. The man was named Ask [Ash] and the woman Embla [Elm?]. From Ask and Embla have sprung the races of men who lived in Midgard.

Asgard

In the middle of the world the sons of Bor built for themselves a stronghold named Asgard, called Troy by later generations. The gods and their kindred lived in Asgard, and many memorable events have happened there.
In Asgard was a great hall named Hlidskjálf. Odin sat there on a high seat. From there he could look out over the whole world and see what everyone was doing. He understood everything that he saw.

Odin, Frigg, and the Æsir

Odin married Frigg, the daughter of Fjörgvin. From this family has come all the kindred that inhabited ancient Asgard and those kingdoms that belonged to it. Members of this family are called the Æsir, and they are all divinities. This must be the reason why Odin is called All-Father. He is the father of all the gods and men and of everything that he and his power created.

Thor

The earth was Odin's daughter and his wife as well. By her he had his first son, Thor. Might and strength were Thor's characteristics. By these he dominates every living creature.

Bifröst

As all informed people know, the gods built a bridge from earth to heaven called Bifröst. Some call it the rainbow. It has three colors and is very strong, made with more skill and cunning than other structures. But strong as it is, it will break when the sons of Muspell ride out over it. The gods are not to blame that this structure will then break. Bifröst is a good bridge, but there is nothing in this world that can be relied on when the sons of Muspell are on the warpath.

Yggdrasil

The chief sanctuary of the gods is by the ash tree Yggdrasil. There they hold their daily court. Yggdrasil is the best and greatest of all trees. Its branches spread out over the whole world and reach up over heaven.

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• Link to the full text of The Prose Edda: Snorri Sturluson, The Prose Edda, translated from the Icelandic by Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur (New York: American-Scandinavian Foundation, 1916). In this translation the creation story, as abstracted above, is found on pages 17-30.
  
• Return to D. L. Ashliman's folktexts, a library of folktales, folklore, fairy tales, and mythology.
  

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Revised February 17, 2010. http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/creation.html