"The slow, the never-ending approach to truth consists in perpetually forming and testing hypotheses, accepting those which at the time seem to fit the facts and rejecting the others."
                         -The Golden Bough, V. The Magical Control of the Weather


It's been really fun sitting here the last couple of hours watching everyone's posts come flying in.  There were at least 8 posts an hour for a while there.  I suppose, however, it has come to be my turn to call it a night.  I, like Jase, am an engineering student, so I came into this class with trepidation, nervous about taking a literature class with a literature professor and a bunch of literature students (don't laugh, I challenge you to come take Mechanics of Materials or Advanced Engineering Mathematics - it's nerve wracking!)  I was scared off a little further when it became apparent many of my peers had already taken a course or two from Dr. Sexson, and this familiarity pushed me ever deeper into solidarity, until little by little I was able to gain bits of confidence due to mandatory presentations and an extensive group project (Group 5 represent!)  Now look at me, blogging like a madman as if I actually wanted the inner workings of my mind to be laid out for public scrutiny!  I regret that my schedule next year does not allow for another Sexson class, so I will have to take what I learned this semester and utilize it efficiently over the next couple of years.  At least until 2012; after that, it won't matter, right?

Fresco of the Last Judgment by Michelangelo

Anyway, thanks for taking me in.  I was impressed with the way everyone who blogged had something useful and pertinent to say, though I want to thank in particular Dustin, John Nay, Corrin and Kari - I related best to their blogs and was quite inspired by the depth of their analysis and understanding.  I've been scrapping to come up with a myth that best defines me and...I've got nothing.  I figure that's not all bad - my exposure thus so far has been largely Greek and Roman in origin, so maybe I'll have to see what the Norse have to say on the subject (editor's note: I just realized I spelled "have" as "half".  I'm a little worried about all the other mistake's I'm sure to have missed...).  And so I leave you now, back to the beginning and knowing it for the first time - that is to stay, I started out knowing nothing, and now I really know how much nothing I know, naught but negligible knowledge of tales long past, nary a nick on the necessary number of narratives needed to endure...

...sorry about that.  I'm tired, and therefore shall seek refuge in the blissful silence of sleep, and take solace in space or deep sea, where the neither the whispers of the winds nor sounds of the scenery survive...

...dang, that doesn't even make sense.  I'm going to regret writing this tomorrow.  Farewell, all.



I fear this may not be the end of my blogging, and may in fact keep this one going, at least until Break, should I find anything pertinent to say.  We'll see.





"This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end"
-The End, The Doors

"That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane -
Lenny Bruce is not afraid
...
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine"
-It's the End of the World as We Know It, R.E.M

On Suffering

"[On Buddhism and Christianity] Both preached moral virtue as the means of accomplishing what they regarded as the supreme object of life, the eternal salvation of the individual soul, though by a curious antithesis the one sought that salvation in a blissful eternity, the other in a final release from suffering, in annihilation."
                    -The Golden Bough, XXXVII. Oriental Religions in the West

"So the queen spoke the magician fair, and pretended that she had at last made up her mind to marry him. “And do tell me,” she said, “are you quite immortal? Can death never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel human suffering?”"
                    -The Golden Bough, LXVI. The External Soul in Folk-Tales


I'm going to go ahead and call out Sally, Sarah, and Seth, albeit a month late, and let them know that neither "The View", "Cowboy Dan", nor "Doin' The Cockroach" depict suffering like "Missed the Boat."  I will grant to Sally that "The View" depicts the suffering we put on ourselves, which can be pretty harsh, and I will concede to Sarah that there are very few who have suffered as Job suffered, and Seth might be right that being life being out of your control can be horrifying (but are we ever really in control of our lives?), but it's quite plain to me that "Missed the Boat" is the sufferingest song by Modest Mouse.  Check it out for yourself:




"Missed The Boat"

While we're on the subject
Could we change the subject now?
I was knocking on your ear's door but you were always out
Looking towards the future
We were begging for the past
Well we knew we had the good things
But those never seemed to last
Oh please just last

Everyone's unhappy
Everyone's ashamed
Well we all just got caught looking
At somebody else's page
Well nothing ever went
Quite exactly as we planned
Our ideas held no water
But we used them like a dam

Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell
Saying yes, this is a fine promotion
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell

Of course everyone goes crazy
Over such and such and such
We made ourselves a pillar
We just used it as a crutch
We were certainly uncertain
At least I'm pretty sure I am
Well we didn't need the water
But we just built that good God dam

Oh, and I know this of myself
I assume as much for other people
Oh, and I know this of myself
We've listened more to life's end gong
Than the sound of life's sweet bliss

Was it ever worth it?
Was there all that much to gain?
Well we knew we missed the boat
And we'd already missed the plane
We didn't read the invite
We just dance at our wake
All our favorites were playing
So we could shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

Tiny curtains open and we heard the tiny clap of little hands
A tiny man would tell a little joke and get a tiny laugh from all the folks
Sitting drifting around in bubbles and thinking it was us that carried them
When we finally got it figured out that we had truly missed the boat

Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and we owned all the tools ourselves
But not the skills to make a shelf with
Oh, what useless tools ourselves


Forget the suffering we put on ourselves, forget being unjustly punished for no reason, forget being out of control - it sucks when you just don't have what it takes to get the job done, or when nostalgia has a death grip on you and you're stuck in the past, thinking they were better days (whether or not they actually were), or when you're just one step out of sync with the world, realizing there may in fact be no good reason for the pretensions we put on or the depth to which we try to get ahead or impress others.  That, my friends, is suffering.

"In Greek tales, ancient and modern, the idea of an external soul is not uncommon. When Meleager was seven days old, the Fates appeared to his mother and told her that Meleager would die when the brand which was blazing on the hearth had burnt down. So his mother snatched the brand from the fire and kept it in a box. But in after-years, being enraged at her son for slaying her brothers, she burnt the brand in the fire and Meleager expired in agonies, as if flames were preying on his vitals. Again, Nisus King of Megara had a purple or golden hair on the middle of his head, and it was fated that whenever the hair was pulled out the king should die."
                                  -The Golden Bough, LXVI. The External Soul in Folk-Tales



I think my favorite thing to do with myth is make associations between the stories from thousands of years ago and characters/ideas/tales from the more modern era.  Imagine my delight, then, when I watched Hayao Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke, which I'm sure several of you are familiar with (he is also famous for Castle in the Sky, Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle, and Ponyo).  The quick synopsis: Ashitaka protects his villiage from a giant boar that's been struck with a madness, and ends up killing the boar but becomes infected by the curse of madness and rage, which slowly consumes him (the boar, by the way, was a forest deity).  He travels on an adventure to find the cause of the curse and to attempt to rid himself from it.  Yada yada yada, it's quite an adventure.  Here's the trailer.



You should see the movie.  As is apparent in the mash-together of clips, it's quite mythological, but I only wish to expound on a couple of the quotes right now.

First, a quick lesson in homeopathy, courtesy of the Ape Tribe, who wishes to use Ashitaka's strength to rid the forest of the humans:


Ape Tribe: This is our forest. The human... give him to us. Give us the human and go.
San's Wolf Brother: You go before my fangs find you.
Ape Tribe: We will not go. We will eat the human. Yes... we will eat the man creature.
San: Are you crazy? Just what happened to make the ape tribe change this way? Since when do apes eat the flesh of a man?
Ape Tribe: If we eat the human, we will steal his strength, and we will drive the other humans away. Give us the man creature.
San: Stop this. You know you can't possess the humans' strength by eating them. All that'll do is make you into something else, something even worse than human.

You will also note while watching the movie how different tribes can represent various sects of human tradition.  My interpretation was that the Boar Tribe were barbarians, the Apes were more of a druidic peoples, the wolves were sort of spiritual Eldars, and the humans - well, technology driven humans.  Atheists, mostly.  Something like that...they acknowledge the existence of the forest gods, but deny their supremacy.

The second quote I wish to mention is as follows:

Lady Eboshi: Now watch closely, everyone. I'm going to show you how to kill a god. A god of life and death. The trick is not to fear him.

Lady Eboshi is the leader of the problem-humans, and it is her current objective to annihilate the forest god.  This quote says something about not fearing death, nor fearing what life will throw at you, and if you can deny yourself the fear of death, you can more easily deny gods, religion.  I would argue most of religion is focused on what to do to __________ after death, be it go to heaven, reincarnate as something desirable, or transcend existence itself (yes, there are of course other aspects to it, but they don't concern my point right now).  Deny fear, deny religion.

I haven't read Nietzsche, by I know enough about him to say with some certainty that he once claimed, "God is dead.  God remains dead.  And we have killed him."  I believe Eboshi showed us how we may have went about this.  We ceased to fear him, and thus his usefulness fell by the wayside where it lay forever after, until we may again find need to fear him (or her.  It. I just needed some pronoun.)  We killed god by overcoming our fear of life and death, though "overcoming" may just be another way to say "became apathetic to," which, when you think about it, is a tad sad - if we don't care about life and death, what the devil do we care about?

And finally, the third quote I wish to examine:

Wise Woman of the Emishi: "You cannot alter your fate, my prince. However, you can rise to meet it if you choose."

Brilliant.  To me, in conjures images of Thetis calling out in the name of her son, Achilles,
"Doomed to a short life, you have so little time.
And not only short, now, but filled with heartbreak too,
more than all other men alive—doomed twice over."
          -Chapter 1: The Rage of Achilles, The Illiad, Homer, Trans. Robert Fagles (best translation, I think)

Achilles' fate is to live a short life.  He knows this, his mother knows this, and there's nothing either of them can do to stop it.  It's written in the tapestry of the Fates.  So what does Achilles choose to do?  He rises to meet his fate.  He becomes the one of the greatest heroes in all Grecian History, accepting that he is to die, but figuring he might as well go out with a fight.

Be wary as you keep your eyes peeled for mythic associations - it's fun, but intoxicating.  Pretty soon you can't escape them.

Sentences, books I - XV

"IN ANCIENT EGYPT the god whose death and resurrection were annually celebrated with alternate sorrow and joy was Osiris, the most popular of all Egyptian deities; and there are good grounds for classing him in one of his aspects with Adonis and Attis as a personification of the great yearly vicissitudes of nature, especially of the corn."
                         -The Golden Bough: XXXVIII. The Myth of Osiris 


Ungh.

Book I:

The Ages of Mankind

It’s a little unfair to chide the humans for their love of gold when in fact the greatest age of all was the Golden Age.  Does gold represent greatness and good or greed and bad?

Deucalion and Pyrrha

All I can think about is trying to draw a connection between Mount Parnassus, where Deucalion and Pyrrha landed after the flood, and Dr. Parnassus, from The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus.  If anyone can help me with the similiarities, that would be great.

Apollo and Daphne

All’s fair in love and war.  And you can use a bow and arrow to ignite both.

Book II:

Callisto

Good to see that Jove will occasionally protect those he takes advantage of, though I don’t know if he does it to save those he’s had relations with, or if he does it just to spite Juno.

The Raven and the Crow

Basically, the offices and E! and TMZ should be a bloomin’ aviaries by now.

The Envy of Aglauros

I’m a little disconcerted that Aglauros would essentially sell her sister Herse to Mercury for a mere bag of gold.

Jove and Europa

Why could Europa not have just jumped off when she realized what the bull was doing?  I mean, even if she can’t swim, she could wade through four feet of water…

Book III:

Cadmus

The story of the founding of Thebes makes me wish I came from a place that had such a history – or to learn it if one exists.

Diana and Actaeon

To Diana – Put up some curtains.

Tiresias

Now I’m convinced Jove does what he does just to spite Juno, but the irony of giving the gift of foresight to a blind man is not lost on me.

Narcissus and Echo

What we glean from this story: love destroys, watch out.

Pentheus and Bacchus

Pentheus had been warned by Tiresias that his mum and sisters would exact a bit of sporagmos; I don’t know why he didn’t avoid them for a few days just in case.

Book IV:

The Daughters of Minyas

I understand if they didn’t believe in the power of Bacchus, but at least take advantage of the day off.  Go see a movie or something.

Pyramus and Thisbe

Again, love destroys.  Be wary of it.

Athamas and Ino

Whoa!  Actually, reminds me of Scarecrow, the Batman villain who infected the civilians of Gotham City with madness via an intoxicating gas.

The Transformation of Cadmus

Cadmus – be careful what you wish for, but his wife gets points for not killing the snake like I would imagine many people would have done.

Perseus and Andromeda

If Atlas was to be worried about Jove’s son stealing his apples, he would have to be on constant watch, as Jove has about 20 heroic male heirs at this point.  A mirror might save you against Medusa, but you’re screwed if you use it to fight a vampire.  Know your enemies.

Book V:

Perseus’ Fight in the Palace of Cepheus

This bit reminds me of the scene in Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail, when sir Lancelot runs around Swamp Castle killing wedding guests in his attempt to save the “princess.”

Minerva Meets the Muses at Helicon

Does this mean the previous inhabitants of Bozeman were a little to prideful and thought they could ski better than the gods?

The Rape of Proserpine

Cupid needs to stop causing trouble.  1) How did pomegranates get into the Underworld.  2) As Queen of the Underworld, Proserpine shouldn’t need to eat or, if she remained human, she would need to eat, in which case that was an unfair of Jove to test her on that.

Triptolemus

A lynx?  These transformations are starting to seem pretty arbitrary.  And if he is being punished for attempted murder, why turn him into something that can kill?

Book VI:

Arachne

There is no point challenging the gods.  Either you lose, and turn into a magpie, or you win, and get the beating of a lifetime.  Lose-lose.

The Lycian Peasants

Maybe it’s from this story that frogs became associated with tainted water.  Those Arnewi knew their Ovid.

Marsyas

Seems  a little extreme to rip someone’s skin off just because they’re not as good a pipe player as you, but I guess gods do what gods do.

Tereus, Procne, and Philomela

If turning Io into a cow couldn’t stop her expressing what happened to her, there’s no way a mere tongue cutting could stop Philomela.  As long as she doesn’t start bragging to Athene.

Boreas and Orithyia

At least Boreas attempted to woo Orithyia before kidnapping her…

Book VII:

Medea and Jason

A story as old as time.  Dad doesn’t trust boy, Daughter loves boy, Daughter betrays father and runs off with boy.  And to think today’s youth think they’re the first generation to have these issues…

Medea and Pelias: Her Flight

Just when you think Medea and Jason will live happily ever after, she makes indirectly murders Pelias (for what reason?), is surprised to find the heroic Jason sought a new wife after Medea’s unannounced disappearance, then kills her own sons to spite him.  THEN she marries Aegeus.  Quite a 180.

Theseus

…and then Medea attempts to kill her husband’s son?  What the devil is wrong with this woman.

Minos, Aeacus, The Plague at Ageina, the Myrmidons

The ants go marching one by one to save the city of Athens.

Cephalus

This story is just like Bendless Love, Episode 3, Season 3 of Futurama.  Bender is dating Angleyne but is suspicious that she may be in love with Flexo, so he dresses up as Flexo and tries to woo her.  She resists at first, but Bender is such a good guy when he’s pretending to be Flexo, she falls in love with Flexo, at which point Bender reveals himself, and drama ensues.

Book VIII:

Scylla and Minos

Another daughter who betrays her father, though I’m glad Minos was horrified at the depths of her treachery.

Daedalus and Icarus

Dear Icarus – moderation is key. 

Althaea and Meleager

I understand being torn between love for her son and love for her brothers, but surely she should take into account that her brothers were greedy and stealing what wasn’t theirs.

Philemon and Baucis

Humiliation and generosity won the day for these two lovers, having taken in Mercury and Jove in unknowingly.

Erysichthon and his Daughter

I guess selling your daughter as a cow is one way to see the silver lining…

Book IX:

Achelous and Hercules

Maybe Achelous should have tried to drown Hercules in river-form, though then we might not have the cornucopia.

Hercules, Nessus, and Deianira

Not sure why Deianira would think Nessus would give her something to help her love after he tried to kidnap her, and after her husband shot him with a poison-tipped arrow.

The Birth of Hercules

Hilarious the way Galanthis bluffed Ilithya into allowing Hercules to be born, too bad she suffered as a weasel because of it

Iolaus and the Sons of Callirhoe

Good to see Jove makes a wise decision now and again, suggesting age is better monitored by the Fates instead of the gods.

Iphis and Ianthe

I like the way Isis, an Egyptian goddess, keeps popping up in these Greek myths.  Also, it seems a sex-change is ok as long as it’s for love.

Book X:

Orpheus and Eurydice

Orpheus loved Eurydice so much that he ventured to the Underworld to get her back, but that same love was the reason he couldn’t resist getting a look at her before they reached the land of the living.

Pygmalion

The original version of Weird Science, though the kids in Weird Science, though Weird Science is more focused on the social awkwardness of the girl’s creators as opposed to the creator’s lack of respect for the women of the society.

Myrrha

Everyone seems to know when their love is inappropriate, they just can’t help themselves.  I would tend to suggest Bacchus is to blame.

Venus and Adonis

Adonis sounds like a regular Dorian Grey.  Come to think of it, we never really find out Dorian’s origins, do we?

Atalanta

Never forget to thank the gods for the woman of your dreams.

Book XI:

The Death of Orpheus

It’s nice to see Bacchus has some form of morals, punishing those who killed the woeful Orpheus, though I’m wondering if turning people into plants is a punishment or reward, because it’s gone both ways so far.

Midas

What we learned – gold can’t be eaten, referees don’t know what they’re doing, and  barbers can’t be trusted.

First Foundation and Destruction of Troy

So Peleus, father of Achilles, was a hero of Troy, but it was largely due to his son that Troy fell in the War.

The Cattle of Peleus

I’m actually quite relieved that someone figured out the pattern of the gods, and that Peleus asked for forgiveness instead of raging after the wolf in revenge for his herd.

Aesacus

I didn’t know snakes were such a problem in the Mediterranean, but there have been several tragedy due to the reptiles in the last few chapters.  It’s also a tragedy that those who seek death can’t find it, but those who wish to live pass away.

Book XII:

The Expedition Against Troy

So there are some people who will abandon their lovers at first chance (Theseus) and then there are others who will follow them to the ends of the earth, even If it is known that the ensuing warwill last nine years (Menelaus).  No consistency.

Achilles and Cycnus

Is this Cycnus, son of Neptune, the same swan that can be seen in the night sky?

Caenis

You used to just have to rub a lamp to get wishes.

The Battle of The Lipaths and the Centaurs

Centaurs are entirely untrustworthy when their sober – do not attempt civility with them when they’re drunk.

The Death of Achilles

Although Achilles was basically assassinated by a god, did he deserve to go to the Elysian Fields?  He killed a lot of people in his time, but he was 99% invincible, nearly a god himself.  Hercules got to go all the way to Olympus. 

Book XIII:

Ajax and Ulysses and the Arms of Achilles

Oratory is a fine practice and all, but Ajax and Ulysses should have had a dance off instead.  It would be less biased towards Ulysses.

The Fall of Troy

And why didn’t they go this oracle nine years ago?  All they had to do was move a statue and get Hercules’ arrows from Philoctetes!

The Pilgrimage of Aeneas

Choosing to turn that which you touch into corn, wine, or palm oil seems like a much better gift then everything you touch turning to gold.

Acis and Galatea

“You love him, but he loves her, and she loves somebody else, you just can’t win” – J. Guiles Band

Scylla and Glaucus

Are there any women in this book who actually want to be with a man?

Book XIV:

Scylla and Glaucus

When Glaucus asked Circe for help, I don’t know that turning Scylla into a horrifying sea monster was what he had in mind

The Pilgrimage of Aeneas

Land hooo…ooooh no!  And we’re off again, doomed to travel the seas and lose many more men for another couple of years, all because we couldn’t wait another day to split the spoils of war, because we didn’t trust that our leader, who has been fair to us for the last fifteen years.  Doh!

Circe

Marrying for wedding gifts now, are we?  At least Ulysses has learned that love is dangerous.

The Triumph and Apotheosis of Aeneas

Well, it seemed like Aeneas was a pretty stand up guy, so I’m glad he became immortal, but is it just more or have a lot of people became god-like recently.  It seemed like the first few chapters everyone was turning into trees and cows, and now their deities.  Maybe I just didn’t notice earlier…

Book XV:

Pythagoras

What’s so wrong about a little homeopathy?  Eating a relative would be like eating your history, your beginning, and if consume your beginning you take it into yourself again, and become it again, thus re-solidifying your roots, right?  Something like that.

Hippolytus

Hippolytus’ troubles with his stepmom bring to mind the issues Joseph had with Potifer’s wife.  Where Hippolytus was resurrected as  Virbius, deity who tends Diana’s shrine, Joseph was “reborn” as Pharaoh’s right hand guy, interpreter of dreams, and savior of Egypt.

Cipus

Here we learn a lack of greed and lack of ambition is perfectly capable of leading to happiness.

Aesculpalpius

And forever on the snake became a symbol of healing and medicine.

Epilogue

I shall have life.

Greco-Roman Mythology in Frank Herbert's Dune

First off, it's terribly intimidating to be in a Lit class chock-full of English majors, so I hope you'll forgive this Engineering student's writing as I'm sure it's not up to par with what most of you are used to.

That being said, here's my term paper relating some myths made popular by the Greeks and Romans to the popular science fiction novel Dune by Frank Herbert:

Mythology has permeated the modern culture so thoroughly that many people are unable to pick out the parallels between the newly penned stories and those created thousands of years ago, oftentimes developed by people who did not even have symbols with which to represent their words.  Sometimes the allusions are impossible to miss.  Thor, the Norse god of thunder, is a major player in many of Stan Lee’s comic books (in fact, all of Asgard has a place in the Marvel Universe) and remains largely unchanged from his original mythological background.  On the other hand, many mythological entities have been well disguised, either in song, art, or the written word.  Although perhaps not apparent at first glance, Frank Herbert’s highly popular Dune has strong remnants of Greco-Roman mythology.  Published in 1965, Dune has become one of the most acclaimed science fiction novels of all time and has produced multiple spinoffs and several movies and it owes much of its success to the strength derived from the transcendence of the ancient mythological figures present in its pages, the most prominent individuals being Leto, Paul, and Alia Atreides.

It would be difficult not to begin by scrutinizing the name Atreides itself.  Taken from the Greeks, “Atreides” was the name given to entire line of Atreus.  It began with the cursed Tantalus continuing to his prideful daughter Niobe and ivory-shouldered son Pelops, the latter of which wed Hippodamia and was the father of Atreus.   Atreus went on to marry the granddaughter of King Minos, Aërope, and their children were Menelaus, the king of Sparta and catalyst who inspired the Achaeans into a decade-long war with Troy, and Agamemnon, king of Argos and commander of the aforementioned Achaeans.  The Atreides line is present in many of the most well-known Greek myths.  In Dune, the protagonist family possesses the surname Atreides and they, like the Atreides before them, are of royal blood and are leaders of men.

The characters bearing the name Atreides are no less mythological than the name itself.  Herbert’s Duke Leto I, for instance, shares a name with the goddess Leto of the Ancient Greeks (or Letona to the Romans).  Letona’s main purpose in Greco-Roman mythology was to bring into the world her children, the gods Apollo and Artemis, after which she fell to more of a minor roll.  Similarly, Duke Leto is the father of Paul and Alia (who will soon be shown to represent Apollo and Artemis, respectively).  Although Leto is a Duke and a big character in his universe, his roll is largely to sire his children and to be a set up character for the escapades to follow.  He dies about a quarter of the way through Dune and as such exits the story entirely from that point on, leaving his children to become the heroes they were meant to be.

Apollo and Diana by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo

When it comes to Apollo, son of Letona, and Paul, son of Leto, the examination can again begin at their names.  The pronunciation alone of the names Paul and Apollo suggests something more than just a coincidental similarity; the relationship between the two is far more developed than that.  Apollo was quite famous for being the god of oracles and prophecy.  One of his great deeds was to kill the earth serpent that harassed the Delphi Oracle, though this feat will be noted with more detail later, and from this point on he had a special place in his heart for prophecy.  Paul Atreides was similarly notable for his precognitive abilities, able to see several possible futures at once.  Although this can drive him mad at times while Apollo is in always in full control of his wits, the relationship between Paul’s future sight and Apollo’s prophecies is undeniable.

The god of prophecy has also always been looked up to as the protector of flocks and colonists.  Paul is exiled from Arrakeen, Arrakis’s principal city, when his father is killed by a rival House.  Although by rights he should ascend to the throne as Duke of the House of Atreides, he must flee into the inhospitable deserts and live among the nomadic Fremen whom he guides and counsels until their eventual reclamation of Arrakis.  By becoming the leader of these less civilized peoples he satisfies his role as protector of flocks and, arguably, is serving those below him, much the same way Apollo was punished for killing Python at Delphi by being ordered to serve the mortal king Admetus as a cowherd for several years.  After Apollo serves Admetus, he is allowed to return to Olympus, just as Paul is reinstated as Duke and eventually becomes Emperor of the Universe.  It was also Paul who came up with the scheme to remove the impenetrable Shield Wall that surrounded Arrakeen, guiding atomic weapons into the otherwise invulnerable wall, thereby assisting the incumbent Fremen in their assault against the invading offworlders.  This situation is reflected in Homer’s Iliad, where it is Apollo who guides Paris’s arrow into the heel of the near-invincible Achilles, a serious blow in favor of the Trojans against the Achaeans.

It was a custom of the Fremen people to learn, as a coming-of-age ritual, to ride the massive sandworms that inhabited the Arrakeen deserts by grappling the worm’s ring segments with a long hook, exposing the worm’s sensitive flesh to the elements, forcing them to stay above the sand.  The Fremen riders could then dictate direction by harassing certain segments and use the worms to travel vast distances across the desert.  This practice was solely utilized by the Fremen until Paul Atreides, as an outsider, attempted and succeeded in conquering the sandworm riding skill.  Paul Atreides’ triumph over the sandworm was reminiscent of the Apollo’s vanquishing of Python, the earth-serpent of Delphi who was attacking Letona.

Gurney Halleck playing baliset

As the god of music, Apollo oftentimes had with him his favorite instrument, the lyre he was given by Hermes.  The lyre comes up fairly often in association with Apollo, it being the instrument used to defeat King Midas in musical contest being the most well known instance.  Paul Atreides, on the other hand, was an admirer of the baliset, which, according the appendix of Dune, is a "nine-stringed musical instrument, lineal descendant of the zithra [or zither].”  The lyre is likewise a derivative of the zither and both the lyre and baliset are stringed instruments played using a plectrum.  Paul gained a great appreciation and skill for the baliset from his music instructor, Gurney Halleck, and when perusing the equipment that lay with Jamis, a man he defeated in a duel, Paul chose Jamis’s baliset to be his own, carrying it with him for the rest of the story and often playing ditties to calm or entertain himself and those around him.

Paul’s sister, Alia, in many ways is like the Greek Artemis or Roman Diana.  Artemis was sister of Apollo the other child of Zeus and Letona.  As Goddess of the Hunt, she was often associated with hawks, the hawk also being the symbol of Dune’s House of Atreides.  Although Alia is but a child in the novel, she acts as if an adult, so it would be fair to say her lack of romantic interest was at least partially by her own design, thereby drawing another connection between her and the virgin goddess Artemis.

According to legend, immediately after exiting Letona’s womb Artemis assisted her mother in the delivery of Apollo.  Alia Atreides took this to the next level and actually became conscious in her mother’s womb and upon exiting could speak and articulate her thoughts perfectly.  Alia was born and raised in exile, hidden within the barren deserts of Arrakis.  She grew up in the wilderness, became acquainted with it and comfortable in its confines.  She was as content in the outlands of Arrakis as Artemis, Goddess of the Wilds, might have been in a similar situation.

If Herbert’s intention was to emulate in his work characters of such importance that they have existed for thousands of years, then he succeeded in Leto, Alia, and especially Paul.  It may be, however, that Herbert had no thoughts whatsoever about masking mythological entities behind children who inhabit another universe in a science fiction novel, that it was entirely by accident.  This case would wonderfully exhibit the universality of the ancient figures and their staying power against time itself.  If we are aware of the old, original stories we can better appreciate their modern camouflage and acquire from them a deeper, more thorough understanding and consciousness of how they penetrate our everyday lives.

"Another circumstance of great moment which points to the same conclusion is the association of the dead with Hallowe’en. Not only among the Celts but throughout Europe, Hallowe’en, the night which marks the transition from autumn to winter, seems to have been of old the time of year when the souls of the departed were supposed to revisit their old homes in order to warm themselves by the fire and to comfort themselves with the good cheer provided for them in the kitchen or the parlour by their affectionate kinsfolk. It was, perhaps, a natural thought that the approach of winter should drive the poor shivering hungry ghosts from the bare fields and the leafless woodlands to the shelter of the cottage with its familiar fireside. Did not the lowing kine then troop back from the summer pastures in the forests and on the hills to be fed and cared for in the stalls, while the bleak winds whistled among the swaying boughs and the snow-drifts deepened in the hollows? and could the good-man and the good-wife deny to the spirits of their dead the welcome which they gave to the cows?"        -The Golden Bough, LXII. The Fire-Festivals of Europe


I have been woefully dreadful at keeping up in my blog the last few weeks, so please bear with me as I try to make some massive strides trying to catch up.

I’ve been trying to dream for about a month now, with no reportable results. I say no “reportable” results because I really can’t be sure if I’ve dreamt or not. What I mean to say is that my dreams are so life-like and unimaginative that I wake up the next morning wondering if it was a memory or a complete fabrication of my mind. This in turn gives rise to my questioning whether or not any of my memories are of past experiences or if they are all of remembered dreams. This caused a mild identity crises until I realized that if these memories were just my brain playing tricks, it’s still MY brain that’s doing all this work, it’s still part of me, they still make me who I am. If I remember running through a field of daisies, it is because either I have done that before or because some part of me has wanted to so badly that it convinced itself that it had.

That being said, the earliest memory that comes to mind is of me and my two cousins wrestling with my paternal grandfather in his living room. There’s not much more to the memory, except that I was probably about two, and the other family members were sitting around us on the couches, watching in amusement. I remember this moment almost as well as I remember his funeral about a year later. The funny thing about the latter event is that I remember it in the third person. I see myself in my dad’s arms, I remember facing away from the pastor’s oratory, remember the scenery of the cemetery, but I remember it all as if I’m perched in a tree, detached from it all. This is quite a paradoxical memory as I know that it is accurate; I am absolutely convinced we were standing to the northeast of the hole, that I was clinging to my father’s neck, and that it was a slightly cool, partly cloudy day, and yet I don’t see it from my eyes – I see my eyes staring back at me over my dad’s shoulder. I guess what I glean from this is the overarching (and perhaps somewhat corny) theme that although I see something from a different perspective, it does not make its truth any less accurate. I can’t trust my memory, but I have to accept what it shows me.

I was having a difficult time coming up with a sublime experience before I stumbled upon Corrin’s blog that reminded me of the brilliantly common moment between sleep and consciousness. Regrettably, as of late I have gone instantly from unconsciousness to an alarm-clock-induced panic and missed out entirely on the intervening time of the mystical. What scares me most often in those seconds is not the realization of some nightmare, of falling or of monsters or of death, but rather that there are no impossibilities, that if I don’t keep my thoughts in check, I will soon have to contend with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man rampaging down the streets of Bozeman,
when impossible is nothing (do I have to cite adidas here?). But the infinite possibilities have a duality about them – they are as brilliantly promising as they are terrifying overwhelming. It is this duality that is so awesome, so sublime, that I have come to look forward to my time in the between [I digress here, but this duality brings to mind the two headed image of Janus, god of beginnings and ends, ups and downs, ins and outs. Basically, I guess, Duality. Did we talk about Janus being the etymon for January, the beginning month, in class? If not, this is Mythic Clue numero uno]. It is why, when I feel this lucid unconsciousness creep in, I use whatever part of me is awake to hold on to it as long as possible, why I will sometimes set my alarm a half hour early, to give myself that extra chance to fall into the enticing trance.

However, I didn’t mean out outright steal Corrin’s blog, so permit me, if you will, another sublime experience (or two). In a more…material…way than the abstracts of the aforementioned sublimity, I find hiking the peak of a mountain to be fantastically sublime, be it Bozeman’s own Blackmore or Cape Town’s Table Mountain. There’s just something about observing the world from the top of a four-thousand foot cliff, either looking out into the southern ocean or across the Gallatin Valley. It’s absolutely spectacular, but the thought that an errant gust of wild wind would prompt a faster way down the mountain keeps the spine tingling.

Let’s take a quick media time out as I introduce to you the lyrics of Streetlight Manifesto’s song “The Big Sleep”. To conserve space, I really wanted to highlight the following few lines as they connect most directly with what we’ve talked about in class, but the entire lyrics can be found here, and the song can
be listened to here.

Why do you cry when you know how the story ends?
How can you laugh when you know that it hurts your friends?
…
So, how many more examples until we break?
So how many sacrifices must we make?
Because we've all been there once before
And it looks like we've returned once more
So is this the beginning or the end?

Anyone who has read All The King’s Men by Robert Penn Warren will recognize the parallels between this song and Jack Burden’s Great Sleep, where he disappears from his world for a while, dismisses (forgets?) all of his emotional ties to those he loved, becomes quite a nihilist, and only then is able to tolerate those he’d loved and return home.

As the topic of Ganesha came up in class this afternoon, I couldn’t help but recall that Oppenheimer quoted the Bhagavad Gita after the first atomic bomb test in New Mexico:

"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one. Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."
(I’ve read since that the two sentences are actually several lines apart in the Bhagavad Gita, and that another, perhaps more accurate translation has “Time”, instead of “Death.”)

Linkin Park’s most recent album release also references this quote. The title of album is “A Thousand Suns”

Although I stated previously that I hadn’t dreamed in about a month, I did in fact dream last night, but because the rest of that paragraph remained true, I kept it in there. The following in a recounting of that dream, as accurately as I could remember it. I tried to emulate the feelings I had during dreamstate as best as I could - the thoughts where the thoughts I had then, the social commentary (in particular, of the media) was what I thought in the dream, and I included some alliteration that was fairly forced. I don’t know why my dream felt like forced alliteration, but maybe it was how I interpreted the feeling of trying to create my own sense of order and meaning out of chaotic, apocalyptic, meaningless events. Without further ado, my dream:

We were under attack. The Capital of the United States of America was being hailed upon by some undistinguished foreign entity. I saw the first bombs hit the roof of the Capitol Building. Knowing to what heights this bombardment could escalate to, I fled. A few others thought as I did and ran in the other direction, away from the fire and smoke and kabooms and sirens, but the masses still thronged toward the disturbance, wanted to get a better look at the destruction. “Idiots,” I thought, and kept running. I motioned to my friend, who I just sighted across the street, and he joined my trajectory towards the towering parking garage where my vehicle was located. Without speaking we agreed the quickest way to the car was scaling the structure, so up, up, up, straight up to the level we sought. Unlock. SlamSlam. Crank, catch, go. We tore out of the lot, making our way though the crowded streets of D.C. It was odd the way only a fraction of the populace was in a controlled panic, determined to get out and save their families, while everyone else was calm – though calm in an unthinking, insane fashion where they seemingly could not comprehend the death that was about to befall them and their countrymen. They had all quaffed too deeply the Kool-Aid that the terror-obsessed media had been offering for years. We made our way to the coastal apartment where we met up with my sister and some other friends. While my friends prepared for our escape, my sister and I hopped the boats in the harbor and scrounged for any salvageable scraps that may aid our journey. When the waves became weirdly wicked, however, we went back to the apartment where our pals were wating, and we all loaded onto a small bus. Fortunately, one of our friends knew how to operate the bus, so we designated him our driver and took off. The driver said he had friends in Great Falls we could stay with until we came up with a better plan, so we headed north. On our way we happened across the house my sister and I live in when we weren’t attending school. We stopped and went inside and began raiding the cupboards. My sister and I worried about our parents until we came across a note that mentioned that they sought shelter with my cousin in Rochester (I should point out that I’m from Minnesota, and the geography of this mission is a combination of the US, MN, and MT. D.C. was mixed in with Bozeman and in the approximate location of St. Paul, my house was where it should be, a little northeast of the Cities, and Great Falls was about where Fargo/Moorhead would be located. Rochester was still a few hours straight south). Having resupplied our expedition and laid to rest my fear for my family, we began again towards Great Falls. At one point we had to climb a single-lane, steep mountain pass, and we nearly toppled off the cliff when the Shifter (although the Driver knew how to drive, for some reason he needed someone to shift for him when he said “shift”) hit the wrong gear and we were on two wheels careening over the cliff until our Driver stabilized the bus and said, “Don’t worry, I drive this all time. We’re fine.” A few miles later we parked, and had to set out on foot to our destination. The first town we passed through was, strangely, an apocalyptic version of a location I have dreamed of previously. It was about at this point that my alarm went off and I woke up, wishing I knew a little bit more about how the story ended.

Again, I apologize to those who made it all the way through this post for the length it came out to be. I'll stop here. Next up, some sentences and maybe a bad day or two.

Jacob and Esau

"Were he but to steal a glance at them [womankind], they think that flying fish must inevitably bore out his eyes at night. If his wife, mother, or daughter brings any gift for him or wishes to talk with him, she must stand down towards the shore with her back turned to the men’s clubhouse. Then the fisherman may go out and speak to her, or with his back turned to her he may receive what she has brought him; after which he must return at once to his rigorous confinement."
            -Frazer, XX. Tabooed Persons, Hunters and Fishers Tabooed

                                                 Peter Paul Rubens, The Reconciliation of Jacob and Esau, 1624.

While I have a lot of catching up to do this weekend, I wanted to take a moment to rhetorically ask if anyone watched CBS News tonight (9/30), and then proceed to explain that during Up To the Minute, an English bloke by the name of Simon Bates spoke about current political party leaders in the English system, namely a duel between the Miliband brothers for control of the Labour Party.  He directly compares them to Jacob and Esau, and...well, here's the video.  It's about 2 1/2 minutes long, so it won't take up too much of your time.