The greatest thing I've ever done, & The greatest thing I'll ever do.

For me the greatest thing I've ever done, is to take care of someone else.  It is in my calling, and my nature to be needed.  To give and love unconditionally is the greatest thing I could ever do.

Frederick Turner

 I feel the need to give more recognition to Fred Turner.  He has actually had a really big impact on my life, in the way I visualize life itself.  After hearing Mr. Turner speak mainly in class it's like a light bulb went off in my head.  I began to start writing my Mythic Detective Paper, and all I could think about was what all Mr. Turner had to say about Knowledge and how there is no limits etc.  Those words made me feel a little more free as to what I could write about, and how I would write it.  Mr. Turner seems to be so in touch with everything, from his childhood to science and of course epic.  He speaks freely, and with meaning.  I realize that a lot of his stories are about him.  His words of choice where beautiful, and a perfect way to describe life as it is and life as it will be.  Hearing Mr. Turner speak was a life long memory I'll never forget, because it started a new beginning for me!

My Life As Rebekah Discovering Mythology

My Life As Rebekah

Approaching life from the beginning, I am captured with the ability to have an imagination where I can dream endlessly. I have been given the unsought gift of the pursuit of knowledge, where there is no limits.  In the depth of my heart I burst from the seams with readiness to soak in a life where I feel no pain, but peace. I feel the blood running through my veins, creating a heartbeat that has a rhythm filled with a song that tells a story.  A story where thinking is life and it is effortless. If I live a life worth living, then what is this life? My life is a branching paradox with layers of singular mythological stories, an unbalanced equation of matter and chemicals shrunk down to a neuron or a microbe impossible for the naked eye to see. I am a homo sapien with a Genesis on a lifelong journey to a Revelation.  A human being with moral value that has a fate in the abstract, the constant never ending loopholes of elite problematic possibilities and the misfiring reality of stories and words screaming for release beneath the surface of my breath, falling into a creation longing to live until death do us part.  Living and breathing, I feel the touch of my own soul, the vibration of love offered unconditionally without a thought.  To have a feeling is unforgotten  It is more than a touch, it's life running through your entire being from the top of your head to the soles of your feet permeating every cell in between.  The transformation in between equals the middle that creates a shape of the Da Vinci man, a circle telling a true story of a  living, factual human being.   It's an irrevocable, unequivocal romantic behavior and physical action shedding light to the destination of my own fate.  A pronounced euphoria, and verbatim repetition starting from infancy and leading to youth, being the center of gravity. This is the magic in the middle.  The unity of wholeness, the peak of your best that forever longs inside the analytical mind.  A dynamic energy addresses the human psyche, where the seat of the soul lays his head on the pillow of a peculiar pituitary gland.  The softness of a reassuring voice kneels down to whisper in my ear that today is the day where life is to never end.

But where there is an end, there is a new beginning.  As I lay there, feeling the sensation of my soul leaving my body and the heartbeat drop to a silence, now I've naturally become cold and paralyzed to the feeling we call death; but death is everlasting.  The ending genre of life, the corpse and beautiful escape of epic and love.   The freedom of  being a human being.  The mythological stories that produce justification of integrity and faithfulness that falls like a tear drop from one's eyes.                

The love, the hate, the promising, it's like a weeping willow tree that continues to grow, accept, forgive and never forget the knowledge that has been portrayed to one's heart.   Like the Black Beauty moment when a horse has all four feet off the ground at the same time, forming a perfectly shaped heart signifying being completely captured in timing following balance of an untouchable moment. It's the feel of a rawhide Reata rope in a cowboy or horseman's hands as he prepares to throw a loop. It's being hypnotized by the big eyes on a beautiful peacocks tail, as it stops you dead in your tracks. 

I am not in limbo, I am at life approaching the end of death from the beginning.  You manifest in your own tenacious prodigy.  The impulsive stigma to be or not to be is still a life everlasting statistic.  Always fearfully awakening the intuitive moment of knowing that death is at the horizon of your subconscious. Lost for words and being frozen in the moment when a beautiful blue butterfly flies into the sky leaving you to feel as if life was worth living for.  The stillness of nature, like water under a bridge as your body has a keen since of ability to adapt and adjust to acceptance of what is. The cries that leave the human eyes coming from the pit of true heart, and knowing that being saddened by one's death is okay, because dying a free man is more precious.  The Angel of Death comes through and lifts my spirit right from my body like a seizure you have no control over.  Feeling no pain, but the touch of a God.  A reassuring kiss from your lover that cares for you so deeply, the warmth of your children surrounding you on your dying day, the peace that lies within one's deepest heart.  Death is peaceful, and easy, but life is beautifully harder.  This is my story, this is my song. It's the gory but grotesque moment when a gladiator piercingly cleaves another mans head from his shoulders with his sword, and penetrating his skin,  spilling his ruby blood upon the sand and taking his last breath away as he is hemorrhaging at the base of his collar bone. In this, he is saving himself from slavery. On that day the world saw a slave rise up to become even more powerful then Caesar himself. At that brief time, the scales of life were for once balanced. Indeed there is victory in death itself. One man's death opens a door way to another one's birth. Consequently, I notice how life changes you on the inside in ways you never thought it could, like the incredible anxiety I get before giving a presentation, or the minute you're caught up listening to the clicking and ticking of an old antique clock.  The twinkling in a mother's eyes watching her little girl's strawberry curls bouncing in the wind while she plays ring-around-the-rosy. It's not the beauty and the beast, its the beauty in the beast. It's not just the Christ in the Christian, it's the example led by the Christian within. It's the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. It's the supernatural in reincarnation. Common sense is like finding sane in the insane.  It's the touch of a baby's finger tips and the outline of their fingernails, the memorization of one's face, the blush on your wife's cheek or her soft pink lips that lay against her profile, the kicking life inside a mother's womb carrying her child. It's the fight to survive and the light at the end of the tunnel.  It's the shirt off your back to someone you don't know.  It's the southern humidity that lays across the surface of a pond, the crickets calling their mate and the frogs resting on Lillie pads. 

The taste you get from a honeysuckle flower on your tongue and the lightning bugs giving light to a dark adventurous trail. It's the emptiness you get when a glass is half full.  It's the magical moment a big brother rocks his baby sister to sleep, singing an old hymn called, “Peace, Peace Wonderful Peace” just to bring calmness to her saddened heart. It's the Fountain of Youth, the history in the making.  It's the unfair, sick, unjust, merciless, masochistic incestuous act of rape, forced upon an innocent human being.  It's signs and symbols. Like the symbolical moment a father notices the tiny embellishment of lace on his daughter's veil before he gives her away.  It's for better or for worse, sickness and in health.  It's the echoing sound of a Celtic violin providing healing to a wounded heart.

I dream like no mortal ever dares to dream. Like a light house shinning bright for ships to see at the time of twilight standing close to the sea. A prestigious realm outlined like Orion's belt, twinkling in the dark of the night. It's the dangerous diagnosis, the pathogenesis, the etiological decaying of life, the picture that paints itself, the hierarchy that empowers one within. The burning desire to feel life leaking from the pores of your subcutaneous tissue.  The moment your beloved draws you near, close to their skin. Beginning the dance with the tango, and ending with the fox trot.  This is the Circle of Life, the never ending chase of acceptance, the opposite of superficial, the genuine sincerity. The act of forgiveness and the letting go of someone's hand, knowing that this may be their last moment of life, or better yet, your last moment to live. The narcissistic mirror image of one's self, feeling the trip of ecstasy and seeing the unseen image of your own soul.  You are only inferior to yourself. Life is originally ritualistic.  It starts and ends where it originates.

Life is the transmigration of souls; there is no death and only change.  It's the philosophical, mundane call to adventure. It's the trail of tears. It is the precedent behind every action. It's Mythology!

Evaluation for Dr. Sexson Blog Style

 I know in all the classes I've ever taken, they always hand out a survey for you to fill out giving the teacher an evaluation.  I think by posting it on the blog it makes it more personal and real!  If I rate Dr, Sexson 1-10, hands down it's a 10.  And poor to excellent, it's definitely excellent.

 

Dr. Sexson,

 

 It has been an honor to have had the opportunity to be a student of yours.  Your style of teaching keeps me very much at home and always at peace.   There isn't a single time you came into the classroom that I can ever remember a dull moment.  Your heart speaks loud and clear, and you draw your students' attention in a way that is speechless.  I wouldn't have you change a thing.  There where times I worried about what the schedule was for that week, but you kept us all at ease and communicated with us about what to expect next.  I appreciate you realizing that all students have a different way of learning, and that there is no such thing as a cookie cutter student, at least not in Mythology.  The picture you have painted for all of us has opened my eyes to dream big and be happy.  Thank you for accepting me for me. 

My Final View of the Class

When I signed up for this class, I was not really sure what to expect.  Boy was I in for a surprise.  Overall I was blown away.  I think the class as a whole was awesome.  Everybody's presentations where great.  The blogs where awesome to read.  I don't think I could have picked a better class to be a part of.  However, we had an incredible person leading us by example.  I would take this class over and over again as long as Dr. Sexson was teaching it of course.  I have discovered Mythology in ways I didn't even know existed.  Mythology is everywhere.  Like Dr. Sexson has mentioned throughout the class, every time you walk out the door you step on a myth.  Mythology has opened up my eyes to be able to write more freely.  This is the only class I've ever been in that is so relaxed and allows me to be me. 

A Coincidence Within a Childhood Memory

 Throughout the weeks, I was undecided how I wanted to approach my final paper My Life As a Mythic Detective.  Meanwhile, I began thinking that I would include a few of my childhood memories that I found to be the most memorable and meaningful to me.

 

    One particular memory stood out the most.  This memory involves my older red headed brother Matt.  From the time I was born to about the age of 3 I used to cry a lot.  It use to bother my brother Matt, but not in a way that it was annoying.  It was more so in a way that I believe he felt bad for me.  Many evenings he would rock me to sleep, and while doing so he always sang to me an old hymn called "Peace Peace Wonderful Peace".

 

 

    This is one of the memories I have written about in my final paper.  The other day, I was talking with my Mother on the phone, and I was sharing what I had written my final paper about.  She was amazed with my paper and what I had written.  Mom brought up the memory I wrote about involving Matt and I and said that she was talking to Matt last week, and he had brought up the same memory to her.  I thought to myself,  "Well what a coincidence?".  Matt must have been reliving the same memory I was, pretty close to the same time I was.   I think Matt realized at that moment in his life how bad I really needed him, or better yet how bad he really needed me. 

 

 

This was a very special memory.  One that I will never forget as long as I live.  Even a coincidence can keep those memories alive. 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZnbPvYh9jg

 

Displacement Stories and Turner

As I was reading through everyone's blog, Aaron's struck me the most.  I found the way he displaced his story to be extremely clever. From the time we began reading it in class to when he disclosed it, I thought, "This could be about many different stories in Ovid's Metamorphosis".  This takes me back to reading the Signs and Symbols written by Vladimir Nabokov.  The way Aaron presented his story really kept me guessing and I'm sure many others as well.  I think everyone did exceptionally well writing their displacement stories. 

 

Thursday evening we had the pleasure of hearing author Fredrick Turner recite some of his wonderful poetry.  Turner has a way of drawing his audience in so they feel as if they are actually a part of what he has captured and presented in his writing. He sure did open the gate to my imagination as I was one who was privileged to be sitting in the crowd totally captivated by what I was hearing.  I am looking forward to actually hearing him speak his words of wisdom in Mythology class today.

The Quest (Displacement Story)

 

The 4:00am alarm sounded and awakened Nate from a semi-sleepy state of mind.  Wrapped in sheets he brought from home he begins his day completely out of the ordinary from his usual routine.  Normally, his day would begin with a hearty breakfast of twelve egg whites, one cup of oatmeal along with eight total ounces of water and a protein shake.  His morning routine would not be complete without consuming every bite of his breakfast in order for him to perform his religiously verbatim weight lifting program.  After consuming his breakfast he would normally head off to the bathroom where he would inject himself with human growth hormone and testosterone, all better known as steroids.  Being the biggest, strongest, most handsome man in the gym was without a doubt who he was!  Nate Walker was "diced and ripped".
                                                                                                                                                                                             

Today is the competition for Mr. Olympia, one of the most prestigious body building championships in the world.  Nate has spent his entire life preparing for this day.  He is the youngest man to ever compete for the title of Mr. Olympia.  Body building has been the only thing that mattered in his life, and everything he did in his life revolved around it.  He was on a hunt for the ultimate title of Mr. "O". For him, pursuing physical perfection had become a fixation.  He had become so infatuated with himself that he had lost track of just how many steroids he was actually taking and what they were doing to his health and well being.  

As he prepares for the day, Nate thinks back on the past few years and the sacrifices he has made to attain the image he so desires.  There have been many painful moments both psychologically, physically and emotionally.  While other young men have pursued careers and relationships, he has had only one single-minded goal, the title of Mr. Olympia.  Shutting out people had become second nature to him, not even the beautiful young women who longed for just a slight noticeable glimpse from his eyes at the gym where he trained so vigorously.  Other men would even drop their weights to watch him.  His presence was so arousing that it created distractions in the gym unparallelled to any other person.  It was as if time itself was paralyzed as he would begin his daily workout routine.

 

 

The time had come, the day he had been preparing for for so long, had finally arrived.  His body had been completely shaven and waxed clean.  The night before, he had his appointment with the Sun Gods where they sprayed every nook and cranny of his naked flesh with dark tanning spray so that every muscle striation and vein shone like gleaming bronze under the lights of the auditorium.  The white sheets he had wrapped himself in were brown from the excess spray and he wadded them up and put them in a large black trash bag to be thrown away.  Totally focused, Nate dresses himself in his comfortable Nike sweat pants and zip up hoody, and heads to the auditorium only a block away from his hotel room.  Entering through the back stage he can hear the music and the announcer's sound checks.  Only two hours left to go before he steps on stage.  

                                                                                                                                                                                           

Unknowingly, in the shadows he was being watched.  People were everywhere and there were conversations occurring simultaneously all around him, and many of them "about" him.  One particular young lady had been following his progress over the years and was there as a competitor herself.  In fact, it was because of him that she had spent the last year perfecting her own skills and body for the Figure Class.  She had witnessed the discipline which he displayed and he had unknowingly been the greatest influence in her decision to finally begin competing.  Emma spoke of him as if they were close friends when actually they had never even spoken a word to each other face to face.  Emma had decided that today was the day that she was going to finally reveal her love for him.  She thought Nate was drop dead beautiful, but she really had no idea who he was on the inside.


Feeling all alone as she walked across the stage in front of the judges, all Emma could think of was Nate. As she stepped foot on stage, feeling the adrenalin flowing through her veins, Emma knew she was beautiful in her purple bikini covered in hundreds of rhinestones that glittered in the light, showing her perfectly beautiful long legs and shapely fit body, her long auburn hair hanging in soft ringlets down her back to her waist.  If only Nate were there watching, noticing her, but he was not.  When the judges called the top five in her class, Emma sadly placed fifth.  Walking across the wooden floor of the stage, Emma felt more alone than ever.  The show is now over for Emma, but not for Nate.  Much to the disbelief of many, Nate wins the title of Mr. Olympia and sets a world record for his age.  When the show was over, Emma approached Nate backstage with a hopeful heart only to be completely ignored and rejected.  In fact, her presence wasn't even acknowledged with his body language. Emma then slips silently away into the night with nothing more than a faded memory and a shiny crumpled pink ribbon that showed her Fifth Place. 

 

As Nate returns to his upscale hotel in downtown L.A. he enters his room and turns to the mirror over the lavatory.  He stares at the man staring back at him in the mirror and he is pleased with his accomplishments. He fills the sink with lukewarm water, leans over and scoops the water into his hands and splashes his face.  Then he backs up and looks at himself again in the mirror.  He had really done it.  Now the whole world knows that Nate Walker is Mr. Olympia.  No man ever as young as he is has won this title.  He steps back, admiring his physique, a smirky smile on his face, when suddenly without warning he grabs his chest and falls with a loud crash to the floor.  Nate Walker is dead. 

Symbols and Signs

Nobokov really sets the stage, doesn't he? I couldn't agree more with Autumn, this story is sad, but yet beautiful. During my experience of reading this story, I couldn't help but notice signs and symbols throughout the article. The signs and symbols are there, whether we choose to acknowledge them or not is an entirely different story. Nobokov does an excellent job of capturing what LIFE really is. This story says it all. Life has a way of profoundly projecting signs and symbols throughout our entire lifetime from the time we are born until we die. We don't always notice them and many times we miss some very important and meaningful opportunities because we aren't aware of them. While looking into the heart of the story, it is not just about life, but death, love and sadness, sickness and health. It's the tiny little things like the bird twitching in the puddle of water symbolizing the loss of youth or death of the son; the swollen veins in the husbands hands showing his age; the sons desire to want to fly and his inability to live in reality; and of course the jelly jars which to the boy could represent many things......... My favorite part of the story, that even brought a tear to my own eyes was this part. "During the long ride to the subway station, she and her husband did not exchange a word, and every time she glanced at his old hands, clasped and twitching upon the handle of his umbrella, and saw their swollen veins and brown-spotted skin, she felt the mounting pressure of tears." So sad, but so sweet. These are signs of the END, and the BEGINNING. The husband had what we call a GUT feeling about his son, but really it was intuition, which is inside all of us. The story is full of many different emotions and although it seems negative, really it isn't. Naturally, as humans, most people who will read this story will feel sad, blue, gloomy, heartsick emotions. All the boy wanted was a chance to fly but in his trapped mind it was impossible. All the parents wanted was a chance to embrace their son and show him their love. In the boy's mind suicide seemed like the way to go and he might be able to fly in his afterlife. To him, flight may have represented freedom from the thoughts he was so possessed with that constantly kept his mind captive. They don't call your mind, your psyche, the seat of your soul for nothing. Does this story move me? Yes it does. It's unequivocally beautifully sad, but I loved every bit of it.

The Spinners

 

In some ways it's difficult to tell where "reality" ends and the tapestry begins as they are both telling the same story. What is real is interacting with what is unreal.....sort of all woven together just like story of the spinners. It is as if the tapestry is interacting with the women and vice versa. The entire painting is the weaving together of reality and mythology, mortal human and goddess, truth and fiction, darkness and light, rich and poor, young and old, filth and cleanliness, good and evil, friends and enemies, power and service.......etc., etc., etc. The cat is extremely fascinating as well. She has her right ear turned out as if listening to the goddess Athena while facing Arachne. Cat's are ALWAYS curious. She also has her eye on the ball of wool, ready to pounce and unwind it (wound and unwound!). After reading the story, I learned that Arachne's punishment from Athena for challening her was that Athena turned her into a spider where she would have to weave for the rest of her life. In the painting, as Arachne is holding the wool in her left hand there appears to be a vague outline of a spider web hanging underneath the wool, kind of a foreshadowing of what is to come in the future for her.

 

INITIATION FROM THE INSIDE

Initiation is a term as defined in Frank and Wagner as a start or beginning of something new. Initiation can be into a club, futurity, sorrority, band, or group such as the Klu Klux Klan. It can be demeaning, humiliating, painful and harmful.  It's become a common practice in The South and has been especially made known in recent years how even band members must go through initiation that can be life threatening.

 

 

THE PHENOMENA OF INITIATION

 

From the times of the first Olympic games when athletes had to run naked and the times of Socrates to this present day, and scandals on fraternity, sorority and band ceremonies has cost lives. Nothing has really changed. When the human decides the procedure it is often cruel, demeaning, ridiculous and worse.

 

SO WHAT'S THE PURPOSE?

 

To put others under the pressure to reach the level where they are and their supreme status. It has cost lives......many lives! So what is initiation really? Initiation is the start of something new, reaching towards the unknown with hope and wanting to fit in. Initiation in it's purest concept is simply just starting something new in your life and discovering a lifestyle that's fitting.

Only your peers can inflict punishment on you/their own peers, in order to reach a level of false servitude and pledge obedience where no obedience is required except in their social structure. Many deaths of young people have ocurred just simply trying to join their peer group. And the power and the money always controlled it along with "society"!

 

Initiation is the start of something new in your life regardless of age - the start of something you've never seen before. You hope for the best...... In reality it's suckling your mother's breast. There you got your first introduction to sustenance and life! There as you clasped to your mother's breast you found security, love, balance and reward. This was your FIRST initiation into this world! And each child, whether newborn, 20, 30 or 40, needs to realize their first introductions were not wrong and sustenance came from it and these values will carry you for the rest of your life.

 

SO WHAT GOES WRONG?

 

From birth you knew what real initiation was - it was loving and it was kind. As time goes on the rules seem to change in mid stream and you no longer need to suckle a breast. You're trying to grow - giving everything you have. You're scared, you're loving but you're fearful. So what happens? You went from your mothers' arms to school, into the world, and you found the hatred, the biases, that you never found at your mother's breast. Like thousands of generations of humans you were thrown in the pikes of hatred, class warfare and bigotry. Not one person in millions of years have escaped these problems! Nor ME!

 

SO WHAT'S THE ANSWER?

 

The answers are within you and only you can answer the questions as to what is real and what is not just like every human being in the course of their lives has had to do for millions of years. The process is slow and tedious and requires thought. Like the late great horsemen Ray Hunt and Tom and Bill Dorrance said - THINK! Ray, Tom and Bill believed that humans have the ability to mentally, emotionally and physically be able to psychologically meditate in a way of making connections so that every little feeling, action and choice is in accordance with timing and balance.

 

 

THINK!!!! It is up to you what initiation ultimately will be so long as you are not a victim of supposed authority based on ignorance! It is ultimately up to you to decide what is true and what is not! It is up to you to THINK - weigh the variables - to decide in your own precious life who you want to be! Thus I conclude that initiation is up to you and only you! Nobody else can do it for you. "If you find a way to fit this way of thinking right here, it will make you better. It will make you better in ways you never knew it could." (Buck Brannaman)


ARE  ALL INITIATIONS BAD ?

No they are not all bad. In fact there are many initiations that are great. This starts from the day you are born and suckling from your mothers breast, to one day being baptized. Initiations can be expressed as building a fort at 10 years old and having a secret password just to go inside, at the age of 15 becoming a boy scout or girl scout and swearing an oath, when you turn 18 pledging allegiance to the flag through the United States military, being united in marriage and saying your wedding vow to your future spouse. Taking communion at church, this is a way of showing your commitment to Christ. All through out your life you are constantly being tested with initiations. Everybody wants to fit in and pass the test. It is a right of passage, a test of character, it's human nature.

Branding Ritual

In the days of the open range of the American wild west, it is said that cattlemen rounded up their livestock and marked them with a brand on the hides of the cattle with hot-red branding irons. The caustic smell of hair and flesh burning, the foul odor of the blood and manure, the lowing of cows being separated from calves, the yelling of the cowboys and the battle between man and beast in a very crude environment all remain part of a traditional ritual to this day. Like it was mentioned in class, all myths originated from a ritual. This holds true even in the history of cattlemen. It's a researched and studied fact that the act of branding livestock with fire-heated irons, placing a mark to identify ownership, originates even in ancient times, dating all the way back to the Egyptians. Inscriptions on the walls of ancient Egyptian tombs indicate that cattle were branded as early as 2000 B.C. The ancient Romans believed that the symbols used to brand were sometimes chosen as part of a magic spell, specifically aimed at protecting these creatures from harm. The Americans decided to adopt the custom of cattle branding from Mexico. Spanish conquistodors, vaqueros in the Spanish tradition, brought the practice from Mexico into California and the Southwest including Arizona, New Mexico and Texas during the late 1700's.

Not only are the calves branded when they are roped but they also receive their vaccinations, are castrated if they are bull calves, ear tagged, horns removed, etc., all done VERY quickly so that the calf can be reunited with it's mama as soon as possible to prevent further trama for the pair. This branding ritual when carried out properly is not cruel. Is it painful? Of course, but it's done with such speed and finesse that the calf hardly even knows what happened to it! True cowboys know how to handle cattle carefully with respect.

Today branding has become somewhat of a social event on many large ranches. It's usually done in the spring before the cow/calf pairs are turned out for summer grass. Ranchers from the area bring their families. Everyone brings their best horses, tack and they wear their best clothes, chinks, etc. Everyone joins in and they enjoy bar-b-que, visiting, with their neighbors and friends. It's a time for catching up with everybody and carrying on some great traditions. This cowboy ritual goes even deeper. There was even a code of honor associated with brands. The greatest ranches also had the best horses and the best cattle. Sometimes it took years of being on a waiting list just to get hired at one of the great ranches. If you were able to get a job working as a cowboy on one of the great ranches you were expected to ride carrying honor for the brand and to protect it with all of your heart and soul even to the point of life and death. Some of these great ranches are still in existence today, even in Montana. Although this is a very painful ritualistic way to keep track of your livestock herd safely, from my own experience of raising a herd of cattle, it is the most effective way that is still predominately used by cowboys as a continuous ritual that originated 4000 years ago.

 

 

Cattle, horses and many other livestock animals were not the only species to be branded. As far as we know today the history of branding even took place upon slaves/humans. People began using brands first upon other humans. The use of the letter "A" was branded into the forehead of an adulteress. Many different letters were used to brand humans to represent punishment to convicted criminals and even harmless wanderers. During the Tudor period of English history, vagabonds had the letter V burnt into the skin of their chests. Fray-makers in church, or trouble makers with no respect for holy space, received an F, the hard way. A British law in the reign of King William III ordered thieves to be branded on the left cheek. There were many different reasons used for branding humans. It seems to me though as if punishment was the common means to brand humans, especially slaves. However, branding humans to punish was not the only ritual used to brand. Human branding was also used in some cultures to represent passage into man-hood and woman-hood. Branding was also used by futurities, military like the Marine Corps, Spartacus even was branded as he rose up to fame. Gladiators such as him had their own claim to fame as Champions of the House of Batiatus. In a lot of ways humans/people wanted to be branded honorably to signify that they were an elite member of society.

 

 

As you can see, branding rituals have been used in many different ways throughout the ages. It's fascinating for such an ancient ritual as branding to still be in use today and still have an impact on our society. I am enamored to discover there are rituals within rituals like there are rituals associated with branding itself. It's amazing to me that rituals such as branding are still performed today much in the same way they were performed four thousand years ago! The more we change the more we stay the same.

Cherokee Creation Myth

The Creation Myth I chose to learn about is the Cherokee Creation Myth. I felt like I could relate the most to it because of my Cherokee heritage. My grandmother is 1/4 Cherokee. Her tribal family name was Oo-Tahlkee and they were from the mountains of North Carolina.

 

 

The Cherokee Native Americans lived in, and still live in the Southeastern United States, which includes mainly Georgia, eastern Tennessee and the Carolinas. In 1838 they were forced to move by foot, rail, or whatever other means of transportation they could find, to Oklahoma and live on the Reservation. This was called The Trail of Tears.

 

 

 

 

The following is the Cherokee Indian Creation Myth:

When Earth began there was no land, only Water. All of the animals lived in the sky. Soon it became over crowded and no one knew what was underneath the water, until one day Dayuni'si, the little water beetle offered to go beneath the water to explore. He searched all over for solid ground and even dove to the bottom of the water, but all he discovered was soft mud, eventually forming the island we call Earth today. The island was suspended by four strings, one at each of the cardinal points. When the island was created it was soft, flat and not livable for living creatures. The animals decided to send the great buzzard from Galun'lanti to prepare the land for them to live on. The buzzard flew down to earth, and by the time he arrived he was very tired. He was so tired that every time his wings flapped and hit the ground they created beautiful mountains and valleys. The Cherokee still believe that these mountains and valleys remain the same today. The animals then decided that it was too dark, so they made a sun and the same sun is still in the sky to this day. Man came after animals and plants. At first there was only a brother and a sister, until one day he struck her with a fish and told her to multiply. So it was! In seven days a child was born to her and thereafter every seven days. This continued until it became dangerous to the world that it would not keep up with them. Then it was made that a woman should only have one child per year and it has been so ever since. The END!

 

 

 

Although this presentation was not shared with the class, it was shared with Professor Sexson.

My Earliest Memories

After class on Friday, I got to thinking about some of my earliest memories. Now let me start by saying my life started out in the South, and I do mean the "South" as in Sharpsburg, Georgia. Yes, where we eat fried okra and grits, drink sweet tea and say ya'll, which I miss a lot by the way. I was the last baby born at the old downtown Newnan hospital, which is about 10 minutes from Sharpsburg. If you have ever heard of Alan Jackson, the country singer, this is where his journey began as well. All of my life I've experienced flash backs of the memory of the day I was born and even shared it with my mother to make sure it really happened. I was born March 28th, 1990, just about the middle of the spring. I vividly remember the day I was born. The little bed I was laying in was right up against a window in the old hospital. The bed sat up rather high so I could see out the window. Next to the window, there was a beautiful tree with freshly opened green leaves that gently flickered in the light spring breeze. I can remember looking out that window and just staring at that tree. Just born and I could already feel the sun beaming down on my face and was experiencing the beauty and wonder of nature. There are a lot of things I can't remember, but this is one that has never left my memory. 

 

My mother best describes me as wide open as a child, in other words, swinging from the chandeliers! Mom says I was crawling out of my playpen and baby bed at 9 months. She couldn't keep me fenced in for nothing.... LOL.   By the time I was 2 years old I had colored my big sisters' brand new white leather church shoes purple and colored a brand new mattress with my mothers bright red lip stick. These two more memories I remember clearly. Growing up the youngest of four, I had a LOT to keep up with! I just remember always wanting to know what all my siblings were doing and wanting to do everything they did and being disappointed because I couldn't so many times. When I couldn't talk one of my older siblings into playing I amused and entertained myself with my wild imagination. I was a little strawberry blonde girl full of hope and a pure heart.

My Tree

I live in the country and this particular tree happens to be in my yard.  I chose it for my tree-hugging picture  because I love it's way of drawing wildlife into it's branches and around it's trunk.  Where I live there are many creatures including quail, deer, two very cute bunny rabbits and one very special owl, and they all LOVE this tree.  The tree is so close to my home that in the summer it shades the southeast corner of the house.  One of the rabbits I've named Roger and my boyfriend Lance named the other one Jessica.  Roger is gray and Jessica is black and white.  They are "Roger and Jessica Rabbit".  Every afternoon they come out and look for any goodies they might be able to find that I've thrown out, like apples, carrots or other little veggies underneath the tree.  Today I saw them out by the pond sitting next to each other with their little sweet faces pointed towards the sun!  The owl doesn't typically show up until around 6:00p.m.  He is particularly fond of my boyfriend Lance who is usually watching TV around this time.  The owl sits on the same branch of the tree every single evening and stares right in the window at Lance.  Also, there's a light that shines from the side of the house giving him light to see his prey.  He sits there until around 7:00a.m. every morning. 

My tree is a good tree.  It's a real "Giving Tree".  It provides shelter, shade and protection for many living things.



This is a picture of the kind of owl that sits in the tree every night.  It's a Great Grey Owl.







When I was a child, my mother used to read a book to me called "The Giving Tree".   It's a story about a young boy who grows up to be an elderly man.  The tree generously gives to him throughout his life without thought of anything in return. 

Epona Goddess of Horses

 

Do you have something in your life that really drives you? Something that you can honestly say you wouldn't know how to live without? What is it in your life that brings light to your darkness? I was looking back on my own life up to now and asking myself these questions, and the one thing that has been constant and always there for me has been the horse. That's right, the horse. My life is a journey and a continuous quest to find purpose, fulfillment, love, laughter, enjoyment, comfort and peace, which we are all looking for. All of these things I have found and continue to experience through my friend, companion, and partner, the horse. It was the horse who carried the men, women and children on it's back; pulled the wagons carrying their provisions and supplies; plowed the fields and pulled the logs that built their homes. They even took the family to Sunday worship. The Truth is that without the horse, none of this would have ever happened. After studying this part of our history through various books, movies and other resources, when I realized this truth, my life was forever changed.

When I was 17 I read a book with a miraculous story by Linda Kohanov called "The Tao of Equus". The Tao of Equus considers the mystical nature of horses and the magical connection between them and humans. I specifically remember Linda Kohanov sharing the story of Epona the beautiful, and intuitive Celtic Goddess of Horses. With that said, allow me to share with you, my reader, a glimpse of the great story of Epona, Goddess of Horses.

Epona is best known as the Goddess of all horses. Once upon a time her worship began with the Celtic Gauls and spread throughout Europe, the British Isles, Spain, and Germany. Epona links the horse, the divine and the feminine together. She was worshipped for many hundreds of years as a Horse Goddess, who not only protected horses, but also their owners. The name Epona comes from the Gaulish word epos, meaning horse. Although Epona is mainly associated with the horse she has many other attributes as well which include: Protection and healing (particularly for animals), fertility in mind, body and spirit, dreams, and the banishing of nightmares etc. To the Celts horses are of extreme importance not only because they were hard to come by but also for their beauty, speed and bravery. Often Epona would ride upon a white horse which to the Celtic peoples depicted a spiritual significance as well as showing her high position among the other Celtic deities. She was called on by those defending themselves in times of war. In Sacred Marriage rites, it is Epona who was the bride granting sovereignty of the land and people to the reigning king. Also she had the distinguished privilege of being the only Celtic deity to be adopted by the Romans in her Celtic form. However, Epona was and still is traditionally seen as a horse Goddess. She can fit into so many aspects of our lives. She is the Goddess of dreams, not only of the sleeping kind but the dreams of hope and ambition.

If I could be a Goddess I think the story above tells you which one I could only dream of being. In my own story, the horse has taken me places I would never have been able to fathom, except in my imagination, and he has been with me there as well. Like the Celts, it is my belief that the horse is not only a symbol of strength and beauty but also of something beautiful and undiscovered inside all of us. The horse has survived through the ages because of its strong sense of self preservation and its keen ability to adapt to difficult situations, just like us humans! It has become an irrevocable calling for me to become a student of the horse for the remainder of my life. I find the horse, as Teacher, unequivocal, able to unite the extraordinary, ancient mythological beliefs and teachings of our ancestors with the present and future search for understanding. Maybe we are more alike than we realize. For me, no measure of time with horses will ever be long enough.

NOTE: The readings above are not copied, pasted, cut or cited from Wikipeda or any search site that does not meet Dr. Sexson's approval. These readings come from peer sites, and books containing the true Myth of Epona. Most Importantly some of these readings come straight from the bottom of Rebekah's imagination and heart.....!

Resources:

"The Tao of Equus", by Linda Kohanov
"Epona' by Willow Myst
"Epona, the Gaulish Horse Goddess", by Amy Brown

  


 

Mythology and Health

I am taking a Microbiology Infectious Diseases class this semester, and as I was in the process of doing some research on Florence Nightingale/ the Miasma Theory of Disease and how she helped keep the air, and the hospital equipment stay clean, I just happened to run across Hygieia, the goddess/personification of health, cleanliness, and sanitation. I thought this had to be a sign of something for me to blog about. I wasn't even looking for her, she just came to me. With that said, let me tell you a little bit about Hygieia's story.

Hygieia, as I mentioned before, is the goddess/personification of health, cleanliness, and sanitation. She was the daughter of Asclepius, who is the god of Medicine, and Epione who is the goddess of the soothing of pain. While Hygieia was more associated with the prevention of sickness and the continuation of good health, her father was more associated with healing, and her mother obviously pain. The Romans imported her as the goddess Valetudo, the goddess of personal health. However, in time she started to be increasingly recognized with the ancient Italian goddess of social welfare, Salus. Her name is the source of the word Hygiene. She is often identified with health and is sometimes called The Health. She was worshipped and celebrated together with her father on many places (Asklepieion) of the Greek and Roman world.

Anyway, I find it very interesting that there is a god for just about everything. I would have never have thought of finding one mixed into the medical field somehow. Just goes to show what little I know about Mythology, but also what I am learning. I have a lot of respect for the medical field, and found Hygieia's story to be intriguing, also what Florance Nightingale was in the mid to late 1800; and now what nurses and doctors have become today. It's amazing how things intertwine together. Looks like my Microbiology class and Mythology class is going to mix just fine together. 

 

 

The Myth Behind My Name

 

  Good Afternoon. I'm not sure if I'm doing this correct or not. I tried posting a profile picture to my profile, but I think I accidentally posted it to my blogspot. Sorry about that. I'm going to try to do this again but this time hopefully with an actual blog for everyone to read.

   I was going through yesterday's lecture notes, and I remember Professor Sexson talking about how there is a myth in everything including your name. So, with that said, I decided to look up the myth behind my own name, and thought I would share it with the class. There are several ways to spell Rebecca. The most common spelling is Rebecca. However, my name is spelled Rebekah. The name Rebekah is Hebrew and is mentioned in the Old Testament of the Bible. Like Professor Sexson mentioned in class, Rebekah was the wife of Isaac, and the mother of Jacob and Esau. During my research I also found that the name Rebekah means "connecting or binding two people together, potentially in marriage". It also stated that many people agree that the wedding of Isaac and Rebekah was the first time a veil was used in a wedding ceremony, and as most people know the veil is still used in most modern weddings today.

I hope this is a good way to get the blog started.