Cultural Mythology: Myth, culture, and consciousness

Trouble is bound to come

The Dalai Lama has said, "Trouble is bound to come, so cultivating the right attitude is crucial." There has always been trouble and suffering in the world and yet we must do what we can to alleviate it, out of compassion for ourselves and others, for the world. We need myth now more than ever, to help us contact that timeless dimension where this paradox can be meaningfully lived.

My understanding of the power of myth began when I read The Book of the Hopi by Frank Waters. For reasons beyond explanation I suddenly grasped the tremendous power of story to make the world and the human place within it. In that moment a path unfolded. A friend recently shared another piece of Hopi wisdom with me. I hope this message from the Hopi Elders in Oraibi, Arizona inspires and compels you to find your place in the great drama currently unfolding.

Hopi Elders Message

You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour.
Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour.
And there are things to be considered:

Where are you living? What are you doing?
What are your relationships? Are you in right relationship?

Where is your water?
Know your garden.

It is time to speak your truth. Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.

This could be a good time!

There is a river flowing now, very fast. It is so great and swift that there will be those who are afraid.
They will try to hold on to the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart, and they will suffer greatly.

Know that the river has its destination.

The Elders say that we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river,
keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water.

See who is with you, and celebrate!

At this time in history we are to take nothing personally.
Least of all, ourselves. For the moment that we do,
our spiritual journey and growth comes to a halt.

The time of the lone wolf is over.
Gather yourselves! Banish the word struggle from your vocabulary and attitude.
All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we've been waiting for.

Trick(ster) or Treat," Native American Coyote tales

Lecture and Storytelling, Friday October 14th, 7-9PM, Room 101 at Copper Mountain Community College

The Great Spirit told Coyote that he would be wise and foolish, perpetually old and eternally young. How can this be? Coyote has special resonance here in the desert. Explore coyote consciousness and the paradox of the archetypal trickster through these traditional stories.  $10. Room 101 CMCC    

When old man whistles

I have a deer-bone whistle
old man made it
the deer dance
made it make the man
hollow so he would be filled with
itself into existence
He took the bone from the pile. The
gods left the scraps
and from this remnant face
he hollowed the trace
gods leave in their leavings
into the bone.
He wrapped one end of it
with sinew and a thin sound
when you blow on it.
Blows deepening into death old age
which, when you do,
in the thin places
soothes the old man, too.

--Stephanie Pope, Find more of her poetry at mythopoetry.com

 

Image is God of the cave, Les Trois Freres

The middle way

In the Blackfoot myth of the Buffalo Dance, we see one way of handling the problem of death. Death is a problem because we die, and because life depends on death. In the myth, death isn't absolute. The people have the power to bring others back to life, as if death is merely one phase in an endlessly repeating cycle. You may have a similar view.

But death isn't the only thing that troubles us. There are many forms of suffering, injustice, and disaster and a lot of energy gets spent trying to change, avoid, or prevent trouble. I'm one of those people who almost always thinks that "something should be done." I work for my vision of a "better" world, a better society, and a better me. But I often wonder about this attitude. I'm not sure how to negotiate the boundary between activism and acceptance. And how much can be done? Primo Levi, who spent a year in Auschwitz, said "It is the duty of righteous men to make war on undeserved privilege, but one must not forget that this is a war without end." Do you think this is true? I don't know.

Joseph Campbell used to talk about "joyful participation in the sorrows of the world." This intrigues and puzzles me. It sounds Buddhist and does reflect Campbell's deep knowledge and appreciation of Eastern philosophies. But he was a champion of the heroic Western individual, and he describes this task in terms of Percival, authenticity, and the Wasteland. Percival means “to pierce the veil,” or  “to pierce through the middle.” Percival's way is the middle way, the way between black and white, good and bad. Vacillation tips you toward black Campbell says, but you can stay in the middle if you follow your nature. Not completely one or the other. Life is like this too. It’s bittersweet, a mixture of joy and pain.

In a lecture titled “Loyalty to Your Imperfections: Wasteland versus an Authentic Life,” Campbell says,

"A human being in action cannot represent perfection, they always represent one side of a duality which itself is perfection, the two—in being loyal to your part of it you are keeping history in form. We live in duality; perfection is non-dual. The only ‘perfect’ existence is non-existence […] When we reconcile ourselves to this, when we accept imperfection in the world and ourselves and go ahead and live, that’s joyful participation in the sorrows of the world."

When we accept imperfection in the world and ourselves and go ahead and live-- this sounds like good advice, maybe even the recipe for sanity. But not without the quest for earned character and the benchmark provided by that kind of self-knowledge.

The best facts

I was recently reminded of just how crucial it is that we develop, as individuals and as a culture, the facility for (and appreciation of) a mythic perspective. We have so many important things to talk about, issues at the heart of our survival, topics that open and expand our humanness, and opportunities for illumination. We often talk past each other and argue points beside the point because we don't know the proper stance or perspective to adopt. For far too many of us there is only one option-- the literal-- and well practiced that becomes dogmatic and that, my friends, is the end of the conversation.

To look at something from a mythic perspective involves finding and understanding metaphors. In the Blackfoot myth of the buffalo dance, for example, we're told that that a young woman promised to marry a buffalo in exchange for the willing sacrifice of some of the herd. When they jumped over the cliff, she had to take the lead buffalo as a husband. Marry a buffalo? What might this signify?

This "marriage" is a metaphor for a kind of relationship. Marriage is an intimate union that creates a shared fate, and historically brought together different people, different families, and even different countries. A marriage in the traditional sense creates allies; it forces the two parties and the folks attached to them to envison common bonds and interests.

If we think about a marriage between a young woman and a buffalo in literal terms it is just inconceivable, bizarre, and the story is merely a cultural artifact. From this literal stance one can easily bandy about opinions about "those people" and what they believed, and argue over who knows the most about Native Americans and has the best facts, and the credentials to prove it. But that's not what we're up to here.

"Marriage" as a metaphor for the relationship between people and buffalos allows us to understand something about the order of the Blackfoot cosmos and our own situation. The young woman's offer to marry concretized, in a sense, the context for the story: The people's surivival depended on the killing of the buffalo.The myth is a story about the profound nature of that relationship, the need to recognize it, and the protocols that would protect its sacredness.

The absolute connection between eating and killing has not changed since this story was first told. Maybe you, like me,are married to a carrot and a soybean, but nonetheless, she who eats today will be eaten tomorow. The shared fate of the hunter and the prey---death---and our inability to precisely determine when we will fall, this has not changed either. Many of us have a different story, different metaphors, and a different awareness. But I do not think that we're better for it. In devaluing the lives of other species, we've devalued our own.

If you were married to your food, would that change your manner of eating? Can this story help you think about that? Does it give you an image to hang onto, a concept to contemplate, and a place to start a different kind of conversation?

 

Blackfoot myth of the buffalo dance

The Blackfoot tribes lived out on the vast grassland plains. In order to feed themselves and acquire food for the winter, the tribes would drive large numbers of buffalo over a cliff, then kill the animals at the bottom and harvest their meat and skins. One year, however, an unfortunate tribe couldn't seem to get the buffalo to go over the cliff. Time and again they drove the animals to the edge, but at the last moments the buffalo would turn aside and just run along the edges of the cliff back to safety. This was a terrible situation for the people, who were facing winter starvation.

One day, a young woman of the tribe went to get water for her family. She looked at the cliff and the herd of buffalo grazing at the top and said, "If you would just go over the cliff, I would marry one of you." Suddenly the herd of buffalo poured over the cliff face. The girl was amazed, just amazed. She was even more shocked when a distinguished-looking buffalo, the leader of the herd, came trotting over to her and said “Off we go my dear girl. You will be my wife and I will be your husband.”

The girl protested that she couldn't leave her family. She offered up a bunch of excuses. But the head buffalo gestured to all of the dead buffalo at the foot of the cliff and said, "All of my relatives lay dead at the base of the cliff. We have kept our word—now you must keep yours." A deal had been made and she was compelled to honor it.

Well, the rest of the tribe found all of the dead buffalo and went to work. When they finished, someone noticed that the young woman hadn't been seen for awhile. Her father went back to their teepee. He looked at the tracks outside, all around the camp, and saw that she had gone off with a buffalo. How strange.

Her father set out after her. He walked and walked until he came to a buffalo wallow. There he sat down to rest and think. A magpie landed nearby and pecked at the ground. “What are you looking for?” asked the bird. The father said that he was searching for his daughter. The magpie told him that his daughter was not too far away. "Would you take a message to her?" the father asked. The magpie agreed to carry a message to the girl. “Please tell her,” the father said to the bird, “to meet me at the buffalo wallow.”

The magpie flew directly to the buffalo herd where he thought he had seen the young woman. Sure enough, there she was, sitting in the tall grass. The buffalo were asleep all around her. The magpie landed near the young woman and hopped and pecked the ground until he was right next her. "Psst, psst," hissed the bird, "Young woman, I have a message for you. Your dad's down at the wallow waiting for you." The girl was desperate to see her father. But she knew that they were in a dangerous situation. Her buffalo husband was quite large and powerful. "Quiet, quiet," she whispered back to the bird. "Tell him to wait and I will be there when I can."

She started to devise a plan, but then her buffalo husband woke up and unwittingly offered her an opening. He reached up and took off one of his horns and handed it to her. “Go to the wallow and bring me back some water,” he told her. And of course she agreed and took the horn and hurried off to the wallow and her waiting father.

When the young woman arrived she told her father what happened with the buffalo and the cliff. He feared for her safety and tried to convince her to go with him. But the girl was afraid. “I can’t leave,” she told her dad, “and you really must go before the buffalo find you.” But he would not. Finally they agreed that he would wait at the wallow until dark and his daughter would slip away from the sleeping buffalo and they would make an escape.The young woman filled the horn with water and went back to the buffalo.

She handed her buffalo husband the horn full of water and he took a sip. Then he sniffed the horn. The buffalo took another sip, and sniffed again. "I smell a human being," said the buffalo. "Oh, it's just me," offered the young woman. But the buffalo sniffed again and said, "No, this is the scent of a man!" He gathered the rest of the herd together and they went down to the wallow. There they found the yung woman's father. The buffalo all made a mighty bellowing sound. Then they danced together and trampled the father to death. He was ground up into such small pieces that he disappeared entirely into the earth.

The young woman began to cry. “Why are you crying,” asked her buffalo husband. "Because he is my father," she said. "And what about us?” the buffalo replied. “Our families, our children, wives, parents, sisters, and brothers are all dead at the bottom of your cliff. Who mourns for us?"

The girl continued to cry. At last the buffalo said, “If you can bring your father back to life, both of you can go free. You can go home to your people.” Well, she didn’t have much to work with since her father was ground up so good. But the magpie helped her to find a small piece of her father's backbone, which she covered with a blanket on the ground. Then she sang a magical song. The buffalo stood around watching and listening.  The bone under the blanket grew and grew until it was the size and shape of a man. The young woman lifted a corner of the blanket and peeked underneath. It was her father alright, but he wasn't breathing. She sang some more and after a time her father came back to life.

The buffalo were amazed. The head buffalo said to the young woman, "If you know how to do this, why don't you do it for us?" She said that she would do so, and the buffalo showed the girl and her father their magical buffalo dance and song, and asked them to teach it to their people so that they could bring the buffalo back and maintain the cycle of life.

The girl and her father took the buffalo's request back to their people, and forever afterward everyone danced and sang to bring the buffalo back to life.

(Painting, "Buffalo Dance," is by Robert Bissett, who has an interesting website about art and painting in addition to his wonderful work. Check it out.).

 

High Desert Mythological RoundTable (R) Group

Tuesday, February 22nd, 7-9PM at the Red Arrow Gallery, Joshua Tree

"Loyalty to Your Imperfections"

Do you need some improvement? What about the world? This is part 3 of a four-part exploration of Campbell's advice to “Follow your bliss” and the Hero's Journey. It’s ok if you missed the first one or two--- join us this month for an evening of storytelling and conversation about the relationships between myth and life.

Come hear the Blackfoot myth of the Buffalo Dance and puzzle this out with us.

Free. Donations appreciated. Cookies and other goodies gladly shared. The High Desert Mythological Round Table (R) Group meets the last Tuesday of every month at the Red Arrow Gallery. The Red Arrow Gallery is at 61597 29 Palms Hwy (Hwy 62) in downtown Joshua Tree.

Grandmother Spider, Part 2 of 2

Here is the rest of my telling of the myth of Grandmother Spider. But of course, a good story never really ends. It lives on in our imagination and weaves its way through the plot lines of our lives and our dreams...

The world was very beautiful. But as the people lived and moved about, problems developed and needs arose. Far, far back in the mists of time, when people-eating monsters still roamed the earth, Kokyawuhti, Grandmother Spider helped the Hero Twins of many nations slay these monsters. Another time, almost as long ago, there was a long drought and the people were hungry. Garndmother Spider sent the hummingbird to show the people where to look for food.

And another time, Grandmother Spider taught the youth Tiyo how to work with the powers of the rain to encourage it to fall. Tiyo thought about many things. One of them was water. People need it to drink and grow their corn. But the rain was scant. Tiyo noticed that much of the rain that fell flowed into the Far-Far-Below River and down into the Underworld before it could be used by the people.

When Tiyo told his father that he planned to go to the Underworld, his father said, “No one knows much about that place. It might be too far.” But he helped Tiyo make a box from the trunk of a cottonwood tree so he could float on the water. Tiyo’s mother gave him food and bowl with the image of Grandmother Spider painted inside. His father gave him four prayer sticks and a handful of down from an eagle’s thigh. “Grandmother Spider will show you how to use this,” he said. And she did.

With the help and guidance of Kokyawuti, Grandmother Spider, Tiyo made his journey. Whenever a new ceremony has been required, Grandmother Spider has appeared to teach the people songs and prayers.

Even when the people forget the meaning of life and disregard the web that connects us all (and this has happened several times) Grandmother Spider comes to guide the good hearted into the next world.

In times of need, she emerges from a small, small hole in the ground or appears overhead, hanging from a slender thread.

Some say the world hangs by this thread.

 

Grandmother Spider, Part 1 of 2

This is a variation of a Hopi creation myth but Grandmother (or Mother) Spider appears in the mythology of other Pueblos peoples, the Navajo, and other MesoAmerican groups. I especially like the image of a world brought into being through song! A good song can still do this, don't you think? Here is the story...

A long, long time ago, before there was time, there was Spider Woman. She spun two silver strands. One connected East to West. The other connected North to South. In this way she made the four corners of the earth, with herself at the centre.  

Spider Woman sent her breath into this space. The sun appeared, followed by the moon, and stars, and light pierced the darkness of the universe.

When the sun appeared, Tawa, god of the sun, came into being, to wield the life-giving power of the sun.  Between them they held all of the mysteries and powers of Above and of Below. There was no living thing, no woman or man, no bird or plant or beast, until these Two together conceived it in their minds.

The universe was beautiful, vast and glittering. But it was also barren. “This isn’t good,” said Spider Woman, “There must be warmth and color and dancing.” First Spider Woman and Tawa created other gods to share their labors. Tawa split himself in two and Life Germ God came into being. Spider Woman split herself into two and the goddess Hard Substances Woman came into being. These new powers beings carried the rain and soft flesh and blood and moist dirt, the turquoise and red rock, the white shell and yellow stone, the matter and mulch that make up the living world.

Now Spider Woman and Tawa had a great thought, a mighty thought. The thought of the Earth. They imagined putting this earth in between the Above and the Below. At that time the in-between was only endless shining waters. Spider Woman and Tawa sat side by side at the edge of the water. They swayed together and they began to sing. Spider Woman and Tawa swayed and sang together and out of their mingled breath came the First Song.

The magic of the First Song was flowing waters (shwoo) and rushing winds (whoosh, whoosh) and the rhythm of things coming together (clap) and moving apart. Spider Woman and Tawa sang this song of light and the earth was born.

The earth was beautiful. Spider Woman and Tawa saw purple mountains, broad rivers, and golden deserts. This beauty stirred their imagination. “Many strange thoughts are forming in my mind,” Tawa said, “I see birds flying in the air above the earth.” “I see fish swimming in the waters,” Spider Woman replied, “I see deer and rabbits, wolves and foxes, snakes curled in the rocks.” They imagined all of the plants and creatures of the earth. What they envisioned in the eye of the mind, Spider Woman fashioned out of colored clay, red, yellow, white, and black. She covered the clay figures with a white blanket woven from the breath and light of Tawa. The two sang over the creatures and they began to breathe and move. They came to life.

Now Spider Woman said to Tawa, “Let us make creatures like ourselves to join the others and enjoy the Earth.” Tawa thought of man and woman. Again, Spider Woman  fashioned each thought into form using colored clay, red, yellow, white, and black. She covered them with the white blanket woven from the breath and light of Tawa. The two sang over the human beings. But they did not breathe.

They didn’t move. They didn’t stir. “This isn’t good,” said Tawa. Spider Woman gathered the figures up and cradled them in her arms. She held them close and warmed them with her body and her breath and Tawa bent his glowing eyes upon them. Now they sang the magic Song of Life and the human beings began to breathe and move. They came to life.

“The world is complete,” sang Spider Woman, and Tawa agreed. “I will ride across the sky every day and shed my light and warmth upon them all,” he sang. “Each will multiply.” Tawa took his place high in the sky Above.

It was time for Spider Woman to tell the people how to live. “The woman of the clan will build the house” Spider Woman said. “She will make the jars and baskets. She will grind the grain. The family name will descend through her. The man will build kivas and pay homage to the gods. He will fashion weapons and provide his family with game. 

Take care of each other. Be good to each other and all will be well. If you need help, call me, Kokyawuhti. Grandmother Spider, and I will come.”

The new people gazed wide-eyed at Spider Woman with her shining beauty. She smiled at them and touched the human beings. To each she attached a thread of her web, spun from the doorway at the top of her head. Then she raised her hands and twirled in the sand.  Suddenly she was gone.

(The image is Shaman Spider Woman by Susan Seddon Boulet, 1986. You can find out more about the artists and her work at The Turning Point Gallery. Happy Thanksgiving and stay tuned for Part 2)

Creation stories and Gaia

Creation stories, or origin stories, tell us how human beings got here and where we came from. Creation stories are also stories about identity, which is one reason why they are important and contentious. Origins determine our ancestory, our nature, and even our future potential. Our images of the human past shape our ideas about the human future.

I thought about this as I prepared for the Gaia Festival in Santa Barbara (Nov 13-14th, 2010). The name "Gaia" is frequently used to summon the image of Mother Earth. As womb,tomb, and the source of all sustenance, the image of Earth as Mother is crucially important to us, and it seems like she should play a role in our creation stories. But Gaia, Mother Earth, the feminine, creative principle, has been suppressed, repressed, and distorted in the dominant Western paradigms for centuries.

This is a situation that we need to correct in our search for models of relationship to the Earth and to each other, that are sustainable. But the images and metaphors that we can recover, revitalize, or invent don't need to be limited to "mother" and "birthing." The concept of Gaia is much, much bigger and the opportunity that we have, if we use this idea to reimagine our relationship models, is much bigger and more complex. In fact, if we consider the earth, literally and metaphorically, we have to conclude that diversity and multiplicity are among her intrinsic characteristics. We won't gain much in the long run if we merely replace our monotheistic hegemonic male/father mythologies and ideas with equally monotheistic hegemonic female/mother mythologies and ideas.

Hmm. But what then, can be an antidote to the centuries-old stories of male privilege and domination? Maybe we need to tell lots of different stories and let them jostle up aganst each other and our inherited ideas about creation and everything else. Maybe we need to recreate a kind of pantheon and not search for just one, "right" answer or alternative.

I started with a spider at the Gaia festival. The spider as creator is really cool because she is both the cause and the substance of her creation, the web. Is the nature of chaos and order too, I wonder? I'll share the story of Grandmother Spider in my next post.  And please feel free to share images or metaphors for creator and creating that speak to you.

The image is Gaia, by Oberon Zell.