Considering White-Skunk II…

*

Winged creatures are almost universally regarded as symbols of spirituality.

Is there any evidence to regard them as such in this tale?

Bald-Eagle has fire.

Meadow-Lark has far sight.

Rice-Bird can play dead.

Not a bad ‘trawl’.

*

*

On his way back to the lodge to re-instate ‘natural law’, Bald-Eagle creates a valley with his wings.

This valley alerts Skunk to Bald-Eagle’s cognisance of his ruse.

It is tempting to regard the rest of the action of the story as taking place within this ‘wing-formed’ valley.

*

*

The sight which greets Skunk on his return to the lodge is not a happy one.

Does Skunk show any remorse for the actions which have led to this unhappy state?

He does not.

He thinks only of revenge.

He thus reinforces and perpetuates the consequences of his original error.

*

*

The ‘reflection trick’ played by Bald-Eagle and the Plover sisters on Skunk may further emphasise their spiritual nature and Skunk’s now inevitable distance from that ideal.

His subsequent attempt to ‘storm the ramparts of heaven’ lead only to a further loss of status and also the loss of his, potentially, one and only saving grace.

Skunk’s musk-sac, caught in the current of the river, drifts off downstream without him.

*

Tipping the scales

Shamanic Paths

Field mouse (Found on Pinterest)

I hadn’t really thought it through properly, had I?

It has been a long, hard battle; over twelve years and counting; to control the problem. No, not mice – the cats!

When we moved into this house, whilst aware that the property had lain empty for over two years, we never imagined that, in that time, the local cat population would have, in our garden, established a de-facto latrine.

We were completely unprepared for the daily visit from every Moggie within prowling distance. Their right to befoul the entire area was never in doubt, in their minds at least. The derision with which they treated any human daring to enter their domain was, in equal measure, both frustrating and funny. Finding their little, fetid “presents” snuggled amongst the plants, underfoot, sprayed in your face, as the lawnmower picked up a fresh one, was…

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Exit in Trance…

*

…Face of moving water

Breathing in water

The water a breathing face…

*

Today I will speak to you

For, today, we hold a race

A sprint to the death

Whose spirit yields to the swiftest

The fleetest of foot…

*

He, who with the most fateful

Imagination of mind

Can picture the year

Bearing fruit

through a carnival of fear…

*

It is he whom we call great

He, who grants freedom to stars.

Magic in the night

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

A long time ago in a decade far, far away, a little girl sat enthralled, reading her way through the Giant Golden Book of Elves and Fairies.  She already knew that these were ‘fairy tales’…  real faeries were very different; not tiny winged fashion models, but something far deeper and older. The stories were good, though and anything that lived between the covers of a book was always magical.

There were tales of missing mer-children, silver slippers and all manner of poems and folk-tales. The only poem I remember was a tale of fairy music, calling as the fairies danced in the moonlight and the only line that always stayed with me was, ‘when a ring’s around the moon‘.

I looked it up. That’s the magic of the internet, right there. As soon as memory resurfaces, our fingers can trace what our conscious minds have lost…

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Considering White-Skunk…

*

The Opening dynamic resembles the ‘Edenic’ in so far as a prohibition is transgressed…

‘Do not eat from that tree, for you shall surely die.’

‘Do not cross the lodge, for you shall leave a stench.’

*

…And there is also a spacial parallel in that Skunk moves from a state of relative equilibrium to a state of outright hierarchy, although it could, perhaps, be argued that a state of equilibrium in which prohibitions are issued is no state of equilibrium at all.

*

At any rate, Skunk moves from a  safe and protected ‘inner’ state to a dangerous and unprotected ‘outer’ state of being, as a result of his actions, as do Adam and Eve as a result of theirs.

*

There are, though, some important, differences.

Were we to read Skunk’s tale literally, no one could blame the Plover and Frog sisters for Skunk’s ‘fall’ and no one could regard the sensual life as intrinsically ‘sinful’.

But then, why should we read the tale literally, it is a story after all?

Since when did ‘once upon a time’ suddenly become ‘this is how it is’?

The substitution of a dogmatic belief search, for the willing suspension of disbelief, in relation to stories, is an error which can never lead to  enlightenment.

Skunk’s error, on the other hand, is one of ‘natural order’.

The feminine prerogative of choosing a husband is perverted by his desire.

In satisfying this desire he also, inadvertently, transgresses the original prohibition.

He has to physically move the Plover Sisters from Bald-Eagle’s bed to his own.

From this, all Skunk’s ‘woes’ follow…

*

unfathomable and vast

dhamma footsteps

POSTCARD #256: New Delhi: No memory now of the journey, the three-legged hop from Chiang Mai, Bangkok to Delhi. Nor the specific sense of my wormhole through space-time, large enough but no bigger than my body size, songs of the mind, and belongings – things we cling to/ clings we thing to. The urgency of speed, an immense engine sound deafened, hidden, obscured and bubble-like enclosure built over it, designed with the dynamics of flight … the same plane flying to and from the same route all of its working life, and the ‘to’ becomes the ‘from’… no end, no beginning. Maintenance crews service the parts when it lands. From the engines’ point of view, everything is stationary. It’s the world that moves.

Arriving at the Delhi house then, with ears sucked out and everything familiar yet creepy, the coldness of known objects that’ve been unheld for all this time…

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Running on Empty? #writephoto…

*

Yva followed on Abadam’s heels, “O Abadam,”

she cried, “you have walked in the garden in the

east, where every precious stone was your covering.

             *

You were a sealer of the sum, whose works and trappings were

prepared, and set all about you, on the day you were created.

*

You were a guardian of the Holy-Mountain,

anointed in the shadow of the Sacred-Tree.

*

You were perfect in wisdom and filled with beauty,

and you walked with the Spirit amidst the stones-of-fire.

*

Yet, for me, you have relinquished all of this.

I will come with you, wherever you may go.”

*

https://scvincent.com/2017/03/23/thursday-photo-prompt-empty-writephoto/

Photo prompt round-up – Deep #writephoto

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

The photo for this week’s prompt was taken at Stump Cross Caverns in Yorkshire. About a quarter of the known four miles of the caverns are open to the public. Fossilised bones of bison, wolverine and reindeer have been found in the caves that were formed 500,000 years ago, when the ocean covered the land. I used to love visiting these caves as a child with my grandfather and mother, both of whom would spin stories around the strange formations of the stalactites and stalagmites. There is a story that one of the explorers found and underground lake in the caverns, but sealed the entrance when the owners refused him a share of the profits. There are still caverns yet to be explored… who knows what may yet be found.

Thank you to everyone who took part this week. There are so many wonderful contributions! Please click on the links

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White-Skunk seeks medicine IX…

*

… After leaving Skunk, Young-Wolf had overtaken his brothers and told them that, “Skunk was carrying a poor Rice-Bird in his back-pack.”

They all came back down the valley looking for Skunk.

They heard his stick-game song and crept up on him stealthily.

They saw Skunk squirming about between his sticks playing the game by himself.

They saw Rice-Bird’s, beads and shells piled up between the rows of rotten wood and feared the worse.

Young-Wolf crept up behind Skunk,  deftly placed his foot on Skunk’s tail and at the same time seized him by the nape of the neck.

Skunk did not stir.

“Fetch me a wooden club and let me club him to death,” said Young-Wolf to his brothers.

But that roused Skunk.

“Eh! What, am I an old woman that you should club me to death like that,” said Skunk, “put me down and let us meet face to face!”

“Your brave talk is only on account of your musk-sac,” said Young-Wolf, he called to his brothers, “hurry up with that club!”

His brothers handed Young-Wolf a wooden club and he clubbed poor Skunk to death.

Then the Wolf brothers took the beads and shells of Rice-Bird and went on their way.

This far and no further for White-Skunk.

*

The blurb

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Image: Coyote walking by Sue Vincent

“We already have the blurb!”

“We do?”

“We do!”

“‘Coyote is a Native American culture hero, buffoon, and trickster figure who mixes animal and human traits to mostly comic, often catastrophic, and sometimes salutary effect.’ Not quite how I’d have phrased it, but… ‘The world in which Coyote moves can be conceived as a parallel to the Aboriginal Australian Dreaming and to the worlds of most other early indigenous mythological story cycles and systems’ …this is the most boring blurb ever… ‘including those which are native to our own shores.'”

My companion was head in hands. It was difficult to determine whether the shoulders were shaking with laughter or tears. Nevertheless…

“‘Wherever and whenever our world is perceived as a sentient being’ … it’s a graphic novel… ‘and the pervading ontology’… pervadingontology?” He howled. I hoped it was laughter. “‘…  is animistic in nature; wondrous…

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