In a much more ignorant time, October, I gave a presentation on the initiation rites of the Wiccan tradition. Seeing as I forgot to write about it then, now seems like an appropriate time now, what with the deadline looming and all that.
Wicca is a relatively new phenomenon. The practice and rituals were initially set in the early 20th century and draw upon various pagan rituals. Some sects or covens strive to fit the description of the witches people have dreaded of thousands of years. For the most part though, it is a varied collection of people trying to get in touch with the natural universe through rituals.
There isn't one right way to be Wiccan, despite what some covens may say. There are many different covens out there and most of them have their own set of practices for initiation, but none of them are in the running for the world's grossest. However, there are a few overlapping traits among them.
There are traditionally three "degrees" of Wicca. To attain the first degree, there is a stage of isolation. You spend at least a year studying the theology and rituals. You will have a teacher, but are not allowed to participate in larger coven activities until after your first initiation. This is typically a ceremony to reveal the mystery of birth. You are born again as a Wiccan in some manner. The example I found involved being stripped down, tied around the waist with a pseudo-umbilical cord, and lead through some sort of corridor that represents the birth canal.
The second degree involves more studying and an ability to teach the craft. When you're deemed ready by your coven leader, they will give you a test of some kind on the rituals and tools used to perform them. If you pass, you will presented with the mystery of death. This can involve a lot of different things. Some covens make you attend your own funeral. Others use hallucinogens to open communication with the "dead". Others still use perform mild to awful forms of torture to simulate the experience of death. Either way, you should now be more in touch with the afterlife and at peace with your inevitable demise.
The third and last degree is attained when you've been at this whole thing for the better part of a decade. You are now familiar enough with the Wiccan practice to start your own coven, but before that you must endure one more gruesome initiation. You've been born twice and killed once already, so you might be asking yourself, "what's left to experience?" Well, unclench your teeth, because the last mystery to be revealed is about love and sex. The Great Rite, as it's called by some, is often an orgy ritual performed with other masters of the craft (wink wink nudge nudge). At this point, you've made it. The mysteries of life have been revealed to you and you're qualified to become a leader.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Myth and Music
Myth and music have a long history together. There is a primordial desire in us to create both of them and often they are intertwined. Rhythm and instruments can sometimes convey things hidden in our hearts that mere words can not reach. The music that myth inspires is as varied as the myths themselves. Ranging from tribal dances and chants to hymns to classical orchestras to folk to heavy metal music.
The first I selected was derived from the Christian mythology, in particular the book of Matthew in the New Testament. Bach's St Matthew Passion was commissioned by the church as were many of the work that he composed. The church was responsible for a large part of all classical period music and art in general.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P21qlB0K-Bs
The next I wanted to share because it's an interesting movement that's going on today. The group is named Tyr after the Norse god. They hail from the Faroe Islands and strive to keep their culture and language alive with some awesome rock music. The following is based on the legend of Sigurd.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6krPhtacic
The last song I wanted to share is from the band Symphony X. They are a metal band from New Jersey, but have found a larger following in Europe. The majority of their music is inspired by Greek and Christian mythologies. This particular song explores The Odyssey.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MaN3pwBsRf8
There are a lot of examples out there of direct and displaced myths is music. These are just a few of my favorites.
The first I selected was derived from the Christian mythology, in particular the book of Matthew in the New Testament. Bach's St Matthew Passion was commissioned by the church as were many of the work that he composed. The church was responsible for a large part of all classical period music and art in general.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P21qlB0K-Bs
The next I wanted to share because it's an interesting movement that's going on today. The group is named Tyr after the Norse god. They hail from the Faroe Islands and strive to keep their culture and language alive with some awesome rock music. The following is based on the legend of Sigurd.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6krPhtacic
The last song I wanted to share is from the band Symphony X. They are a metal band from New Jersey, but have found a larger following in Europe. The majority of their music is inspired by Greek and Christian mythologies. This particular song explores The Odyssey.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MaN3pwBsRf8
There are a lot of examples out there of direct and displaced myths is music. These are just a few of my favorites.
That, Anyway, Is What I Have Learned
I've learned many things during my time spent in LIT285, a class of "true stories", including the fact that learning is merely remembering. I've learned to invoke Mnemosyne to reclaim all these interesting things I've forgotten and to invoke her nine daughters, the muses, to put words to them. I'd forgotten about separations, creations, and the good ol' days. I'd forgotten about initiations, suffering, and the stories they create. I'd forgotten about returns, unveilings, and the retrospection they bring.
I remember now, how everything is perfect in the beginning. What you could call the age of innocence. When everything was simple. We didn't have to worry slaying monsters, founding cities, or solving riddles. Your greatest daily challenge may have been convincing your parents to let a friend come over to the house. Days composed of cocoa puffs and cartoons. Things were peaceful, quiet, boring.
Things never stay this way for long. Soon enough, the cruel reality of life slaps us in the face. People we love die. Friends betray our trust. Our bodies get cut, bruised, and broken. Like Heracles or Theseus, we are faced with trials and obstacles to overcome, albeit not as cool ones. Trials that seem insurmountable at times. However, we fight our daily fights, and scars are what we get in return. Scars that we receive and those that we give others. The lives we lead become defined by those scars and the stories of how we got them.
The struggle can't go on forever, though. Eventually, we're faced with a challenge that we can't overcome. For many of us who lead less dangerous and likely less interesting lives, this challenge will be old age. A time to reflect on what we've accomplished and share our tales with anyone wise enough to learn from our mistakes. A time to return home to the darkness from which we came.
Our lives and our stories do not have a simple beginning and an end quite like I've outlined. In reality, we are rarely concerned with the story of an individual in it's entirety, and not unlike the Arabian Nights, The Golden Ass, or Sexson's story about the lady next to him on the plane, the best of our stories contain more stories within them. When it comes time to divulge the grand narratives we've experienced, we draw upon the techniques of our favorite story tellers, the ones who enchanted us with their adventures. We also draw upon the same material. Love, lust, war, betrayal, heroes, villains, and monsters. The chain of borrowed techniques goes beyond our storytellers. It goes back to your storyteller's storyteller. All the way back. To the very beginning. To the myths which set the precedence for every story that would be told there after. To stories of snakes and women. And in this way, the stories of old live on in ours.
We don't have to look very far to see the myths replaying themselves out around us everyday. We see our sports heroes and modern Achilles and Heracles. We name our wines and pubs in honor of Bacchus. We create our super heroes in parallel with Oedipus, Theseus, Christ, and others. People often fantasize about Cinderella situations which is an update of Cupid and Psyche, or Rhodopis. Five days out of the week carry the names of Norse and Roman gods. With a little imagination, we can even find the Odyssey in an average day in Dublin June 16th, 1904. However, if you ever feel like you're Megara in your marriage, get out, get out while you can! Your step mother-in-law is quite obviously plotting to kill you because you're holding back her little boy. But I digress, we displace myths everyday. It's just a matter of being able to see them and craft them into the stories to pass on to those around us.
That, anyway, is what I have learned. Or perhaps, remembered.
I remember now, how everything is perfect in the beginning. What you could call the age of innocence. When everything was simple. We didn't have to worry slaying monsters, founding cities, or solving riddles. Your greatest daily challenge may have been convincing your parents to let a friend come over to the house. Days composed of cocoa puffs and cartoons. Things were peaceful, quiet, boring.
Things never stay this way for long. Soon enough, the cruel reality of life slaps us in the face. People we love die. Friends betray our trust. Our bodies get cut, bruised, and broken. Like Heracles or Theseus, we are faced with trials and obstacles to overcome, albeit not as cool ones. Trials that seem insurmountable at times. However, we fight our daily fights, and scars are what we get in return. Scars that we receive and those that we give others. The lives we lead become defined by those scars and the stories of how we got them.
The struggle can't go on forever, though. Eventually, we're faced with a challenge that we can't overcome. For many of us who lead less dangerous and likely less interesting lives, this challenge will be old age. A time to reflect on what we've accomplished and share our tales with anyone wise enough to learn from our mistakes. A time to return home to the darkness from which we came.
Our lives and our stories do not have a simple beginning and an end quite like I've outlined. In reality, we are rarely concerned with the story of an individual in it's entirety, and not unlike the Arabian Nights, The Golden Ass, or Sexson's story about the lady next to him on the plane, the best of our stories contain more stories within them. When it comes time to divulge the grand narratives we've experienced, we draw upon the techniques of our favorite story tellers, the ones who enchanted us with their adventures. We also draw upon the same material. Love, lust, war, betrayal, heroes, villains, and monsters. The chain of borrowed techniques goes beyond our storytellers. It goes back to your storyteller's storyteller. All the way back. To the very beginning. To the myths which set the precedence for every story that would be told there after. To stories of snakes and women. And in this way, the stories of old live on in ours.
We don't have to look very far to see the myths replaying themselves out around us everyday. We see our sports heroes and modern Achilles and Heracles. We name our wines and pubs in honor of Bacchus. We create our super heroes in parallel with Oedipus, Theseus, Christ, and others. People often fantasize about Cinderella situations which is an update of Cupid and Psyche, or Rhodopis. Five days out of the week carry the names of Norse and Roman gods. With a little imagination, we can even find the Odyssey in an average day in Dublin June 16th, 1904. However, if you ever feel like you're Megara in your marriage, get out, get out while you can! Your step mother-in-law is quite obviously plotting to kill you because you're holding back her little boy. But I digress, we displace myths everyday. It's just a matter of being able to see them and craft them into the stories to pass on to those around us.
That, anyway, is what I have learned. Or perhaps, remembered.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Have A Mythological Thanksgiving
I just wanted to take a minute or twenty and wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving break and ponder the meaning of the holiday. The idea was largely based upon my own curiosity, as I wondered what the differences between history and tradition were. Many of us will sit down to a nice big family dinner, but how and why did this become the societal norm? Is it based upon celebrating the Pilgrim's first harvest festival in what would later become the USA, or is the whole thing a story invented to market Butterball turkeys?
The thing I've found interesting about the topic is the contention over who held the first Thanksgiving. The story many of us hear is about the pilgrims who landed in 1620 at Plymouth rock. After a year of hardships, the first harvest season came about since landing. It was a party to commemorate their survival and is often seen as an olive branch between the Pilgrims and the Indians. Some Texans argue, however, that the first Thanksgiving was held by its settlers in 1598 after a 350 mile hike across the desert and the Texans aren't the only ones who want a slice of the action. The Berkley Plantation in Virginia makes claims of holding the first Thanksgiving in 1619, two years before the pilgrims.
No matter which story you look at though, there are no doubt parallels between them. In all three cases, we see people overcoming great hardships after traveling a long ways to make a home in a new land. Perhaps they displace Cadmus over coming his trials to found Thebes, or more likely Theseus bringing change to a land already settled. The holidays celebrating the deeds of the first European settlers on this continent have been carried on year after year by a few New Englanders since they first occurred, but it wasn't until Lincoln's presidency in 1863 that it became a National Holiday.
Why did the Pilgrims, Texans, and Virginians all celebrate the same holiday in different places and years without communication between each other? Harvest festivals are as old as the dirt in which we plant our grain. How will Demeter know we're thankful if we don't show our appreciation? Why not give praise to Asherah for the gifts she has given us? Persephone may already be in the underworld, but there is still much left behind to sustain us during her stay.
The thing I've found interesting about the topic is the contention over who held the first Thanksgiving. The story many of us hear is about the pilgrims who landed in 1620 at Plymouth rock. After a year of hardships, the first harvest season came about since landing. It was a party to commemorate their survival and is often seen as an olive branch between the Pilgrims and the Indians. Some Texans argue, however, that the first Thanksgiving was held by its settlers in 1598 after a 350 mile hike across the desert and the Texans aren't the only ones who want a slice of the action. The Berkley Plantation in Virginia makes claims of holding the first Thanksgiving in 1619, two years before the pilgrims.
No matter which story you look at though, there are no doubt parallels between them. In all three cases, we see people overcoming great hardships after traveling a long ways to make a home in a new land. Perhaps they displace Cadmus over coming his trials to found Thebes, or more likely Theseus bringing change to a land already settled. The holidays celebrating the deeds of the first European settlers on this continent have been carried on year after year by a few New Englanders since they first occurred, but it wasn't until Lincoln's presidency in 1863 that it became a National Holiday.
Why did the Pilgrims, Texans, and Virginians all celebrate the same holiday in different places and years without communication between each other? Harvest festivals are as old as the dirt in which we plant our grain. How will Demeter know we're thankful if we don't show our appreciation? Why not give praise to Asherah for the gifts she has given us? Persephone may already be in the underworld, but there is still much left behind to sustain us during her stay.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Pat and Ted's Excellent Adventure
This little story begins with Theodore, whom everyone called Teddy. Teddy was a manly man, always looking for a little bit of adventure especially if it involved some loose women. Now, these kinds of adventure had landed Teddy in trouble before, but never quite like this.
Teddy was sharing rent on nice little apartment in New York with his best friend Patrick at the time. Pat and Teddy had been best friends since childhood and would be wingman for each other when they went out on the town. One debaucherous evening they went out to the bar and Pat couldn't stop talking about this beautiful girl he'd met.
Beer after beer disappeared, and Pat asked Teddy to make him a promise. He made him swear that he wouldn't back out on it, no matter how crazy the request. Being the best of bros, Teddy agreed to the terms without hesitation. That's when Pat told him that he needed his help picking this girl, because she was already with the Mafia Don.
"Oh. Shit." Teddy thought out loud, but he wasn't one to be easily deterred.
They rolled ideas back and forth, back and forth, on what the best way to go about this was. Eventually, after another beer or five they settled on a plan. Why don't we just stroll up to her door, and ask for her? Sure it was dumb, but with sufficient beer goggles it was looking like a pretty good idea. They went to the don's penthouse suite. Up to the very top the high rise apartment building and rang the door bell.
The door opens and there's the don looking them straight in the eye. The plan was looking a lot less appealing at this point. Teddy worked up the courage to speak to the Don. Sweat condensing in his palms, he explained the imagined circumstances. Pat and her went way back. They were old childhood friends and he'd just found out she was living in the neighborhood. They wanted to take her out for a drink or two and catch up on old times.
"Ah, of course." The Don smiled at them. "That would be no problem at all. I'll go get her, have a seat." He walked down a hall and disappeared. The Don seemed like a reasonable fellow. Pat and Teddy grinned at each other, because the stupidly simple plan was going off without a hitch. That was of course, before the found themselves chloroformed and thrown into the trunk of a car.
They were hauled off to shipping yard and thrown in a crate. He was kept in that shipping yard for a week before he met the don's nephew who kept tabs on the place. The nephew had got the story out of Pat some time ago. And he was willing to cut Teddy a deal. Pay him $5000 dollars or sleep with the fish like Pat. It wasn't a particularly tough choice. He paid the money and got out of town as soon as he could. Teddy lost his ass on the deal, but it beat swimming at the bottom of the Hudson.
Teddy was sharing rent on nice little apartment in New York with his best friend Patrick at the time. Pat and Teddy had been best friends since childhood and would be wingman for each other when they went out on the town. One debaucherous evening they went out to the bar and Pat couldn't stop talking about this beautiful girl he'd met.
Beer after beer disappeared, and Pat asked Teddy to make him a promise. He made him swear that he wouldn't back out on it, no matter how crazy the request. Being the best of bros, Teddy agreed to the terms without hesitation. That's when Pat told him that he needed his help picking this girl, because she was already with the Mafia Don.
"Oh. Shit." Teddy thought out loud, but he wasn't one to be easily deterred.
They rolled ideas back and forth, back and forth, on what the best way to go about this was. Eventually, after another beer or five they settled on a plan. Why don't we just stroll up to her door, and ask for her? Sure it was dumb, but with sufficient beer goggles it was looking like a pretty good idea. They went to the don's penthouse suite. Up to the very top the high rise apartment building and rang the door bell.
The door opens and there's the don looking them straight in the eye. The plan was looking a lot less appealing at this point. Teddy worked up the courage to speak to the Don. Sweat condensing in his palms, he explained the imagined circumstances. Pat and her went way back. They were old childhood friends and he'd just found out she was living in the neighborhood. They wanted to take her out for a drink or two and catch up on old times.
"Ah, of course." The Don smiled at them. "That would be no problem at all. I'll go get her, have a seat." He walked down a hall and disappeared. The Don seemed like a reasonable fellow. Pat and Teddy grinned at each other, because the stupidly simple plan was going off without a hitch. That was of course, before the found themselves chloroformed and thrown into the trunk of a car.
They were hauled off to shipping yard and thrown in a crate. He was kept in that shipping yard for a week before he met the don's nephew who kept tabs on the place. The nephew had got the story out of Pat some time ago. And he was willing to cut Teddy a deal. Pay him $5000 dollars or sleep with the fish like Pat. It wasn't a particularly tough choice. He paid the money and got out of town as soon as he could. Teddy lost his ass on the deal, but it beat swimming at the bottom of the Hudson.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Heroes in our Time
I went to see Thor 2: The Dark World over the weekend and it prompted me to write about the significance of comic book heroes.Not everyone buys into the craze, but it's hard to find someone who isn't at least aware of the existence of Superman, Batman, Wolverine, and Spider-Man. For a character like Thor, the mythological roots are transparent, but most if not all the heroes relate back to the monomyth outlined by Joseph Campbell.
Superman is a particularly interesting study. Like many heroes of myth, superman is born under special circumstances. He is born into the midst of his home world's destruction and must be sent away to be raised by foster parents. An interesting note is that Superman's family name is El, which is a Semitic word meaning god or deity. We don't see much of his life after his being discovered by Jonathan and Martha Kent, but when he becomes relevant again as a character he is the ultimate paragon. This gives him more in common with Jesus than other mythological characters, where Greek heroes are typically morally ambiguous like Batman or Wolverine. In some story arcs, this parallel is taken to the an even further. All-Star Superman is an alternate ending to his character in which he sacrifices himself to save humanity and leaves his knowledge with those closest to him so they can carry on his good will.
The comic book heroes serve an interesting role in our society. They are a way of taking the hero archetypes and adapting them to our current culture. Heracles still amazes us and influences us, but he is far removed from a person that could exist in our time. The heroes of comic books live in our time and deal with the same monsters we do, albeit exaggerated. The villains represent our fears of science, robots, radiation, space, and the supernatural.
The diversity of accounts is also shared between modern and classic heroes. As there is no one accepted ending to many of the myths, there's not only one incarnation of our favorite comic book heroes. There are numerous artists and writers who have their own spin on the lives of Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Spider-Man, ect. There are always similar element, so that the hero can be recognized, but their actions and the outcomes of their lives can be wildly different. Another similarity is one of cultural consumption. Despite the large effect that comic heroes have on our society, few people have actually read the books from which they come, but the people who do are often fanatical.
Superman is a particularly interesting study. Like many heroes of myth, superman is born under special circumstances. He is born into the midst of his home world's destruction and must be sent away to be raised by foster parents. An interesting note is that Superman's family name is El, which is a Semitic word meaning god or deity. We don't see much of his life after his being discovered by Jonathan and Martha Kent, but when he becomes relevant again as a character he is the ultimate paragon. This gives him more in common with Jesus than other mythological characters, where Greek heroes are typically morally ambiguous like Batman or Wolverine. In some story arcs, this parallel is taken to the an even further. All-Star Superman is an alternate ending to his character in which he sacrifices himself to save humanity and leaves his knowledge with those closest to him so they can carry on his good will.
The comic book heroes serve an interesting role in our society. They are a way of taking the hero archetypes and adapting them to our current culture. Heracles still amazes us and influences us, but he is far removed from a person that could exist in our time. The heroes of comic books live in our time and deal with the same monsters we do, albeit exaggerated. The villains represent our fears of science, robots, radiation, space, and the supernatural.
The diversity of accounts is also shared between modern and classic heroes. As there is no one accepted ending to many of the myths, there's not only one incarnation of our favorite comic book heroes. There are numerous artists and writers who have their own spin on the lives of Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Spider-Man, ect. There are always similar element, so that the hero can be recognized, but their actions and the outcomes of their lives can be wildly different. Another similarity is one of cultural consumption. Despite the large effect that comic heroes have on our society, few people have actually read the books from which they come, but the people who do are often fanatical.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Folk Tales and Fart Jokes
As you may imagine, I was startled to read about Tasurinchi being stung in the junk on page 109. Poor guy! The short story about one Machiguenga's unfortunate run in with a little demon in the form of a wasp was the most amusing story that Mascarita told, perhaps. It is one of the few stories where Tasurinchi is not killed, transmogrified, or forced to start walking again. It's just a bit of bodily humor meant for a laugh. Though, there are bits of body humor throughout all the tales. One definite identifier of a kamagarini is its flatulence, it seems. Maybe it's because the easiest way to deal with the less savory parts of our anatomy is with humor, but every culture the world round has its dick jokes.
That, anyway, is what I have learned.
That, anyway, is what I have learned.
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