Final. Such a sad title.

Before I began I had to explain the path of speech. I had taught another the gift of pain. I showed them how to modify the body and initiate others into society. I was still suffering the after effects of teaching. But as this class has showed me, a little blood and a lot of pain must be spilt in order to fully grasp understanding in this life. I can truly say it is with a heavy heart that I leave this class and the "anti-google" teachings of Dr. Sexson...................................... The name is not important but the story. When it began it simply was. Every story has a version of the beginning, my version is not special. I am unimportant. Yet it only exists because I made it so. With all the stories I have learned everyone was special and everything the truth. Even the ones that contradict the others. The thing that is undisputed is that the most important object is a grain of wheat. I entered the world with violence and blind familiarity. I didn’t know that the whole world was in a grain of wheat. That paintings I saw many times led to Hades and Egyptian era. I found that when I truly opened my eyes I saw for the first time what was all around me. I could begin to remember the myths that had been forgotten. I could see that everything new was old. That without a person to share the stories life ceases to exist. That anyway, is what I have learned. When I walked into class I knew that sacrificing my finger would be worth it. The knowledge I would find that I had lost. I could remember the stories of my beginning. The pains of the middle and the terrible end that befell those before. I could begin to find the meaning in my life and the reason for existence. How long could I go before I lost more than I gained without some grand intervention? Luckily I won’t have to forget because all I can do is gain. I will find the memories that should have been passed down that were left in the aftermath of the beginning. Myth is sad. Myth is hope and loss. Myth is violent. All mortals should fear the gods because as entire text of Cadmus and Harmony taught us we are merely puppets on string. When the gods were bored they cut some strings to see us flop around without limbs, watching us squirm was the goal. Why would they do such a thing to someone who would worship them? Simple. Because they can. With all the unlimited power and games boredom drives them to push us and hurt us for sport. The only thing that seems to bind the gods is their word. Whether it’s for the best or end of us when the god says something it is. There is so much to gain from the stories of the beings that lived millennium and watches from the grand seats of the gods. If only they came to teach not torture. The story of IO was that of disguise and change. She was changed into a cow and not recognized by the people who see her every day. This is back in ellio tempura, or back when things cost a nickel. Back when things were a nickel we walked uphill both ways in the snow. People knew the values of family and uncle Jon had just begun to fulfill his lineage. Before that was 5000 years ago and all we had was government, soils, and darkness. When IO rode the white bull she had no clue that it began the romans, muses and was not special. She was not the beginning. Merely a stepping stone in the story of the gods. The gods were vain. They believed themselves the best in certain fields, be it love, war, children, pain, seeing, hunting, vengeance or weaving, they had to be the best. When challenged, the gods did not handle the loss well. I remember the story of Arachne and her loom. She challenged the old woman Demeter, secretly the goddess Athena, to a contest of weaving. When the two took to their craft Athena finished first. She had woven a beautiful cloth but one depicting the treacherous acts mortals had carried out against the gods. How dare them. Those damn kids. Athena looked to Arachne’s loom and saw her brilliant weaving of scenes showing how the god’s used and vile atrocities they played on the mortals. Of course the cloth had to be destroyed and death was to quick for Arachne, instead the life of a spider, whom we see today was the punishment. When stories of the beginning were told most of them involved the great white something willing light to be. Others and the most agreed upon was a creature dove to the bottom of the ocean and brought dirt to the top so we would have something dry. Sometimes it was gods ripping themselves apart for shelter and animals. Either way here we are. First it was dark and then there was light. We are born and ripped from the families. When we go through life the next phase is pain. My multitude of scars has made me feel part of society. Many ways exist for us to enter the society. To pull our weight sometimes we must sacrifice and endure pain. Sometimes a vision quest or communicating with the dead is the only way to see our path and go forward in life. Sometimes we must cut into our flesh and tear out parts of us to understand our focus and if we are even worthy to stay alive. When and if we are lucky enough to pass these human tests we find out what we are made of. Hearing what some tribes go through seems so intense and terrible to us. But to them it is tradition, privilege, and honor. We would be so lucky to go through what they go through. To earn our way sometimes a little blood must be spilt, parts left behind and possibly madajara. That anyway, is what I have learned. Blind familiarity is how things have been explained to me. American gothic is a painting that dates back to pharaohs and hades. Everything down to the buttons and the buildings, to the pitchfork and the sky point to the clues and stories of the past. It ties back to secret rituals that once were only known to priests, now shared between class and I. The key to life, a grain of wheat. It seems so obvious to look at now. How could I have missed such an important truth? This single grain connects us to the future and holds us to the past. The most exciting object. Ordinary and vulgar, hiding in plain sight this key to life is infinite with it’s secrets. Those of us lucky enough to see it for what it is should consider us the privileged few. A secret protected to the death. The basis of the pyramids and the side that holds it all together. Without all the sides the pyramid fails us. We would find ourselves without shelter and starving. Without pain we cannot flourish. What does this mean? Simply put, we must hurt to truly know what we are capable of. I have been told I am strong, I have suffered more than most but less than others. When the end is near and we are faced with our mortality we either stand strong and fight or fall and crumble. Many empires have fallen under such embrace. Embers of once proud empires grace lands where the god’s rolled the dice and the storyteller stopped walking. I believe that when the storytellers stop talking the end of an era is there. Where the storytellers the first to know? Or were they the first to go? If we stop walking and sharing there really is nothing left to go on. That is the beginning of the end. When you think you know a story it is only because you know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story you have to go to the beginning. The heart of the story could go on at length for longer than I have time to tell. I feel that I have traveled to the beginning and gone from cover to cover in both books, rereading many passages to understand but a glimpse of what I looked over. The knowledge of the past evades me, but the beginning of the end and end of the story stays with me. Pushing me to look the events of every day. Simple as they may be the events and tasks of the day hold the key to life and survival. The stories I pass down to those whom walk behind me will be those whom walk in my place one day. For you see everyone dies, but not everyone truly lives. Enjoy the heart of the story and take time to fly away. Every day is myth, everyone lies and all lies are based in truth. As I sit today in 285 today, I listen to my family speak to me of what they have learned. I am moved. The bar is set high and the time is in the hourglass losing the last grains of sand. I do not enjoy endings to thing that inspire. I can say I will miss my Tuesday, Thursdays immersed in myth with Dr. Sexson. I gained more in my short time here, then from the whole of my semester. I wrote my final words and threw them out after hearing one day of presentations. I learned from myth, you and me. I remember what was once forgotten, You, me, myth. That’s how it started and how it will continue. Because as it was so clearly stated the end is the beginning of something else. As this ends it begins to show us the light at the end of another long tunnel. I guess it simply remains to be said but see you on the other side. The flip side. That anyway, is what I have learned.

Beginning of the End of the Beginning

As I sit in 285 today, I listen to my "family", speak to me of what they learned. I am moved. The bar is high and the time in the hourglass is almost up. I do not do well with endings. I can say I will miss my Tuesdays, and Thursdays immersed in myth with Dr. Sexson. I gained more in the short time there, then from the whole of my semester. I wrote my final words and threw them out. After seeing the world through words I must raise myself up to share what I have learned. I learned from the myth, I learned from you and I learned what I forgot. You, me, Myth. Thats how it started and how it continues. Because as it was so clearly stated. As this ends it begins to show us the light within another tunnel. I guess it simply remains to be said but see you on the other side. The flip side.

Air quotes

It's amazing what simple hand gestures can do. Symbolize love, or get you into a fight. Air quotes are the best form of confusion for the masses. Placing a quote in the correct spot, emphasizes your speech. Place it in the wrong spot. Hell breaks loose. The reaction of the masses to the air quotes is hilarious every time and each time the expectation to the reaction grows. They have mittens with the quotes on them, perhaps a wise investment with the holidays impending. The poor "bastards" won't know what hit them. I lost friends but gained laughs at their expense. A fair trade if I do say so myself.

Medusa and Athena's wrath

I found a diary on the way to class..... In the diary it spoke of a beautiful woman, whom dreamed of modeling and riches. Only her dreams were ruined by the monster Poseidon. The god whom reeked of fish and took as he pleased, much like all the gods. We mortals are merely the puppets on a string, if one gets cut there are millions more to play with. For Poseidon this was just one more pretty cord. He cut it and left her tattered on the ground much like the clothes he pried off her. But to Medusa's ruin, he did so in the temple of another. The goddess Athena would not allow such trespass against her and being a god took vengeance on Poseidon by cursing the beauty Medusa. Perhaps it was jealousy that caused Athena to lash out against the beauty. That a mortal was more desired in the goddess' presence deserved punishment. How dare a mortal soul taint the temple in such a way. Athena then left the girls beauty in tact and ensured those whom dared look upon the mortal be forever frozen in time. Stone. Was the sight left upon the mortals that of awe? Pure lust? Or could the beings sense that the look taken would be their last? When the hate grew I imagine so did the terror of her glare. The sight of the snakes slithering from her waste, falling to her breast as she stood. The serpent and the woman. It starts with them. It ends with them.

A myth displaced

The paper read today that a serial killer has been caught. Apparently the serial killer and rapist was also a cannibal. Authorities raided the hotel room to find the killer dead. Slumped over the bed with his head split open. It is likely that cancer or a disease is to blame. Autopsy hopes to answer questions to the causes of death beside the obvious. It appears that there was a struggle and in the fridge authorities found the remains of an unknown female. It appears as though she was penetrated before she was killed and may have been kept alive for some time after. Almost all the remains were gone. It is believed that the cannibal met his death due to the human consumption disease Atenislothos, which is deadly to those whom come in contact with it. More pending results of outcome.

The ass in lion's skin

I thought with the theme of Halloween I would warn those whom hide behind the masks that they can only be hidden for so long. To quote Aesop's Fables, "An ass once found the skin of the Lion, put it on, and was highly amused to note how his presence brought terror to the other animals wherever he went. In his delight he could not resist raising his voice and braying loudly. At the sound, a Fox, who had been skulking off, turned about and said: 'Ah, I thought you were a Lion too, until I heard you bray' - Clothes do not make the man. - What we are losing as we forget to fear the gates of hell where the sentinel watches, forcing the damned to remain behind the gates of hell with the unblinking blind eye. A blind stare to this world seeing only those on the next. It shall be this night the seat is exchanged to the next. The new watcher will take their seat. We can only hope they are whom they say and not an Ass in Lion's clothing.

I was startled...

When reading The Storyteller I was startled to discover the origins of Halleys comet. The Tasurchi, or oneself, whom became enraged. He was so enraged he placed a broom handle up his anus.Why he was enraged is of non importance, but what he did with the anger is what is relevant. Then he lit the broom to fire, lifting himself higher and higher. Eventually out of the atmosphere, zooming by the Earth with the streaks of his lit broom still in place lights up the sky. We still see him today. Still angry still lit up with fire. When will we see him again? 2061 is the best guess. Perhaps he won't be angry and will come back to Earth to share his story.

That was before

As I turn the pages in The Storyteller I am filled with wonder and curiosity. I know where this is going, yet am lost. But that was before the end. Now I know. The journey of two men. One searching for answers to the questions plaguing his soul. One on a quest for his soul. Their journeys are separate, at times intertwining, and others completely separate. Both fulfilling and both essential for destiny. One will sacrifice a simple life for loneliness to compel survival of an entire civilization. The other will keep the legend going. It was quite the journey..... That, anyway, is what I have learned.

Greatest Evil

"The greatest evil is being distracted from oneself." The truth. Perhaps it is the devil that drives us to distraction. At least in youth that is the problem. When we get older its more Anamnasis. We start by knowing and forgetting everything. Relearning some of what was lost and losing it again. Perhaps when we rejoin the gods we can truly remember what was lost. Maybe that is the point of the journey. It would be pointless without the trials and rights of passage. Without pain we cannot flourish. Perhaps the gods sit and watch taking bets on the mundane choices we make. Who is right and whom is wrong? Clearly the gods are not wrong but they keep their word.

Familiarity

Blind familiarity. That is how American Gothic was described to me. I never knew that a grain of wheat contained the whole world. That this painting led to Egypt and Hades. It makes sense to me that in a secret ritual the thing that was shown, would be that which feeds and the basis for life. The single grain that connects us all to the past. A single stalk of grain. Not exciting? Think again. It may seem ordinary to the vulgar masses. It may seem profane. Without it life stops. If we take that away we lose everything. It is gravity to the past. This single grain that has watched over generations of generations. Always looming, watching and feeding. Without the grain we lose that which keeps us honest. Bread, a side of the pyramid. Without the side it falls. Cotton. No warmth. Are there others oh yes. The list goes on for infinity. Never ending, always looming and watching. Like a horror. Take the seed of life, take the lives. If we lose our connection to the past we lose ourselves and become the nothing. That is all that we have.

Vision Quests

Vision Quests. This is one of the most universal and ancient means to find spiritual guidance and purpose. A vision quest can provide deep understanding of ones life's purpose. This is a big turning point in life. It's a rite of passage between childhood and full acceptance into society as an adult. The first vision quest is during the transformative years. Also known as the teen years. When an older child is ready he will do a personal spiritual quest alone in the wilderness. Often this is in conjunction with a period of severe fasting. The vision quest can last a number of days while the child is still in touch with the spirit world. The vision quest lets the teenager access spiritual communication and form abstract thoughts. Usually a guardian spirit or animal force of nature will come in a vision or dream and give guidance to the child. After the quest the child may send up smoke signals saying that he is ok and had a successful quest. He may also mark the rock or trees in an area to tell of his vision. When he returns from his quest to the tribe he will pursue the direction in life usually of the guidance of the elders. Psychologists believe the extreme fasting or possibly some type of drug cause the hallucinations. I believe that it is all true. Myth. Something that has been lost but in a desperate need.

Distrusting

The Storyteller.... A man comes to your tent and claims to be your once dead son. You know him but he is older. You trust this. Why would he lie? You tell him you love him, you miss him and ask him what he misses of the living world. He tells you I miss suckling the breast. You let him because it is your son (?) why would he not be telling the truth. Then he leaves, supposedly back to the underworld. Maybe I am distrusting. Then again things then were probably a nickle. ...

Change

Finally I am able to blog. Kind of. I will miss my morning tedium. For the past 4 years I wake up, use the restroom and beautify as well as I am able. I wake up early to entertain my cats and feed them. Every morning different, every morning the same. I find myself once again on the move. Where I land a mystery. How many more moves is anyone's guess. Stacking the boxes and filling the tubs. I have done this so many times. The average of 15 every years. At least I have cleaned and rid myself of excess. I hate the moving, constantly jumping from 1 foot to the other, and the other is not good. I wonder how long until I get to unpack, move out of storage.... Perhaps not long, less than a year. Hopefully. In Cadmus and Harmony The gods constantly move and cast out others. To what end? Initiation. Perhaps moving time and again has been mine. I am an expert now. I wonder if asked would Arachne challenge the god to a contest again? Would Thesis still answer honestly knowing he would be blinded? Would Dionysis change anything? Would Europa trust the dark clouds or learn from her grandmother IO? How many more would Zeus rape or would he linger longer? Which gods would change or continue? Would Eve still trust the Snake? Perhaps Thesius would avoid the benches in Hades? Perhaps none of this could be changed, it was destiny.

Sharing Myths

Pain

Similarities of the beginning

The great white Baboon
The great white Bull
The great white Boomba

Seeing a pattern.

Moses
God took 6-7 days to make all
Blood
Death
Sacrifice
Trickery

More to come..........

Picture it, Nothing Soon to be Egypt

Picture Nothing. Blackness and alone. The great white Baboon became tired of being alone.

Thus creation of the god's began. 

The white baboon created Atum- the sun god

                                        Shu- god of air

                                        Tennut - the god of moisture

                                        Geb- the god of the Earth

                                        Nut- the god of the sky

  and a bunch of others but all we care about is the story of Atum and kids.

Amun is the ram headed god who molds mortals out of clay like a potter. 

Hathor is the mother goddess with features like a cow. Was she a cow? Cant say for sure but I would                      speculate that the answer is yes. 

Atum had this thing for Hathor together they had 3 kids

                                           Seth- the god of chaos

                                          Osiris- god of the underworld

                                          Isis- goddess of the throne

Osiris has this thing for Isis luckily it is mutual. Osiris and Isis get married. Brother Husband anyone?

This upsets Seth whom gets jealous and wants Isis for himself. So he decides to kill his brother Osiris and dismember him. 

This really upsets Isis. She decides to reassemble him with the help of Amun. Together they rebuild Osiris, god of the underworld and Bammo he is back. Isis and Osiris have a child to avenge the actions of Seth. They give birth to Horus, Falcon god and he does exactly what he was supposed to do, avenge his father. Seth is slain and goes to the underworld where he will face his final judgement by the jackal headed god Annubus.

How does Annubus decide who is eaten by monsters, dismembered and those who deserve to go before Osiris god of the underworld? He weighs your heart. If your heart is lighter than a feather you may enter the underworld. But.... if it is heavier than the weight of a feather than the monsters get to feed on your flesh and rip you to shreds. 

This is part of the beginning of Egypt. 

"Live on, Weave on"

Page 38 Calasso tells us of a mortal whom dared challenge a god, running theme, the short blip was a much bigger story.

"Arachne had the effrontery to challenge Athena to a tapestry competition. The cloth she wove showed Europa being carried off by the bull: you could see the girl's feet drawing back fearfully from the water. It showed Leda beneath the wings of a swan. It showed Danae under a shower of gold. It showed Asteria in the clutches of an eagle, and it also showed Erigone who Dionysus tricked with his grapes (falsa deceperit uva). Not a word more did Ovid give us. But out of a sense of self defiance, Arachne's cloth included only stories that would bring shame to the god's.


What does that mean? Arachne wove a cloth of all the terrible things that the god's had done to mortals. Much different from the cloth that Athena had wove. Athena had chosen to do a cloth that showed the mortals disrespecting the god's and punishment.

Arachne had challenged Athena to the contest but alas Athena had finished first. But Athena became enraged at seeing the cloth Arachne had wove. She sliced it in half in a fit of rage. Arachne would not be insulted like that so she got a rope and hung herself.

Athena would not let things be so easy.She felt pity for Arachne. She touched Arachne on the shoulder and said " Live on, Weave on" and turned Arachne into a spider. Forever weaving no longer human.

Morning Rituals

My cat wakes me everyday 1 minute before my alarm goes off. Luckily I know her snooze button, alas that will only buy me 7 minutes. I get out of bed check my phone for the time, just in case. I go to the restroom, pull my hair up, brush my teeth, put on my makeup, all of this takes about 8 minutes, then I dress. 5 minutes later I am ready to go take my leg meds, my vitamins and assorted concoctions. Grab banana, cell phone, backpack, water bottle, and I am on my way to do whatever it is the middle of my life consists of. Bam.

First Memory

I missed the day we shared our first thoughts, but luckily I can still share. I was only 6 months old I was still in a car seat, place close to the big TV, under the skylight so my dad could look down on me. I remember our dog, Beuf, our cat Coon, and the hideous red shag carpet that made our home. I could still describe all the levels, I was a mischievous child who crawled too early for my parents. But the first memory was in my car seat, I am pretty sure that is what it was, and I was looking up at my father whom was peaking down at me through the skylight.I remember that the TV was playing the Muppet Christmas but it was sunny in my memory.  He was an electrician so he must have been fixing stuff. We moved from that house 2 months later to San Francisco. But that is another tale.

Covet the Myth

The first "civilization" 5000 years ago the sun dawned on the black soils. Government, death, life, toiling the fields and religion. This lasted over 2000 years. Before the Romans and their gods. But thanks to the muses and the god of the light Horus.

In society today myth follows our everyday lives. It is inescapable. We covet the myth, it drives up every day the alarm wakes us and we begin. IO was tempted by the white bull as was Europa, wolf in sheep's clothing. The abrasive woolly liars that are forever changing us and pushing us onto the un-walked path we ourselves would never have picked. Forever thickening our hides and building the walls higher. But on the same note softening our minds and pushing the edge of reason with emotion. It is a beautiful delicate tightrope.

When we tell the children of the future we walked uphill both ways in the snow 20 miles just to go to school everyday and things cost a nickel. It will still be the truth. Perspective can be timeless. Wardrobe cannot be timeless.

The Beginning

The most important notes of today. IO. I found the lecture today to be thoughtful and hilarious. More than could be expected. Also a lot of Dutch Swedish mix last names. Things were a nickel and the past had Titan staring at naked chests.