Yule history is replete with holiday iconography such as mistletoe, holly, and the yule log. There is a singular icon, however, that is associated with the winter solstice by pagans and non-pagans alike. That icon is the familiar image of Santa Claus. The history of Santa Claus usually starts with the legend of St. Nicholas, a kindly Christian saint born sometime around 280 A.D. in Patara, near Myra, in modern-day Turkey. Although this is where the "official" history begins, dig a little further into the past and you will discover that the icon of St. Nick was around quite earlier.
Intent: The goal of this spell is to get along better with others, ease work-related tensions, and protect yourself from negative energy.
It is important when dealing with people (especially those you might not get along with) to send out love and not anger. Difficult as it may seem to love the guy in the next cubicle who can’t stop tapping on the wall, or the boss who is constantly asking you for the impossible, remember that what you put out is what you get back; I have seen amazing things happen when this simple change in attitude is applied to a troubling situation. Preparation: Light a sage smudge stick and waft the smoke over your body and your ritual space. Visualize resentment and negativity flowing away with the smoke. If you are particularly stressed, you may want to take a few drops of lavender or chamomile oil (or any magickal “peace” oil) and anoint your third eye chakra (between your brows), your throat chakra, and your heart chakra. Doing the spell: Light a blue candle (for healing and peace) and gaze into the flame for a moment, taking slow, deep breaths to center yourself. Close your eyes and visualize your third eye opening to allow for rational thought and empathy, your throat chakra opening to allow for free-flowing communication, and the heart chakra opening to allow love to go out towards the person with whom you are having a problem. Next, see the other person as if they were sitting in front of you, surrounded by a brightly glowing light. Then widen the area of light to include your own space. When you have this image firmly in your mind, you can open your eyes and say the following spell out loud. Protect me in my place of work Oh Powers of Earth, mighty and strong; From unkind words and energy dark As I work each day, steady and long. Blow away conflict, Oh Powers of Air Blow away anger, resentment and pain, Waft in calming breezes fair, Let peace and love alone remain. Powers of Fire, burn distrust away So bonds of friendship might be charmed; A gentle glow to light the way With free will for all and no one harmed. Powers of Water, flow through our hearts Wash clean the wounds and help us see, The path where each can play our parts United in peace and harmony. As with all magickal work, remember to follow up with practical actions to bring about your goals. In the case of this spell, try being especially nice to the difficult person referred to above for at least a week. Moving from intent to action gives the universe the opening it needs to change the energy in the situation. Remember that you have the power to bring about the future of your dreams. Visualize the working world you want to live in; see it in your mind’s eye as if it already existed. Every step that you take today can move you towards fulfilling your goals. By combining your mundane skills and your Pagan outlook, you too can create the perfect Pagan world of work that nurtures both your wallet and your soul. Blake, D. (n.d.). Workin' for a Livin' Retrieved August 23, 2016, from http://witchesandpagans.com/solitary-spirituality/spiritual-practice/380-workin-for-a-livin-pg49.html This spell is done over a period of nine(9) days.
Start with a plain red rope. On each successive day, focus on your goal and desire, holding the rope across your outstretched hands, palms up. When you can no longer hold the focus, tie a knot and incant the line for the appropriate day: By knot of one, the spell's begun! By knot of two, my spell comes true By knot of three, so mote it be By knot of four, power I store By knot of five, my magic's alive By knot of six, this spell I fix By knot of seven, this spell I leaven By knot of eight, it is fate By knot of nine, what's wished is mine! After each daily incantation, store the rope wrapped in a soft fabric inside a wooden box, magically prepared according to your will, kept in a safe, secure location. “In a game-changer for the legal fight over same-sex marriage that gives credence to opponents’ ‘slippery slope’ arguments, a federal judge has now ruled that the legal reasoning for same-sex marriage means that laws against polygamy are likewise unconstitutional.” – Ken Klukowski
Those opposed to the marriage of two same-gender, loving adults have argued that the definition of marriage is set down in the Bible and that marriage is a static, sacred institution that would be destroyed if changed. That is a fallacy, plain and simple. Why? Because the definition of marriage has already been changed many times over the centuries. In fact, marriage wasn't even considered a "sacrament" until the 16th century. Ancient Greece Riane Eisler, in his book The Real Wealth of Nations: Creating a Caring Economics, cites a quote, attributed to Demothenes, from Keuls' The Reign of the Phallus: "We [Athenians] keep hetaerae [courtesans] for pleasure, concubines for the daily care of our body, and wives for the bearing of legitimate children and to keep watch over our house." Athens had no legal definition of marriage, nor was it needed. The state did not control the flow of inheritance; the family was responsible. It was so important to keep inheritance in the family that girls would have been forced to marry their nearest male relative if the father died with no male heir - even if they had to divorce their current husband! The most ideal unions, to the Greeks, were homosexual partnerships. Why? Because their was no expectation for a married man and woman to provide emotional support for one another. Ancient China Confucian philosophers argued that the strongest family bonds existed between fathers and sons, or between brothers, Coontz writes. Marital bonds were a far second to familial ones, so much that a son could be beaten for siding with his wife (who was made to move in with her husband's family) and not his father. One of the stranger marriage traditions to come out of any society is undoubtedly China's practice of "ghost marriages." To keep unmarried deceased relatives from being lonely in the afterlife, family members married them off -- to another without a pulse. The two were united in a graveside ritual, and the new in-laws kept in touch afterward. Despite being banned in China today, ghost marriages still happen. Ancient Egypt Rulers of Alexander the Great's splintered empire used marriage as a political tool, Coontz writes, taking more than one wife in order to establish alliances with other kings. Unlike Botswana's co-wives, though, Hellenistic co-wives typically hated one another, since each was seen as a threat to the others' ascension to power. Children schemed with their mothers against step-mothers. Siblings schemed against siblings. To produce heirs that could remove all doubt of legitimacy, some brother-and-sister marriages also occurred. Lower classes, without much wealth at stake, had a bit more freedom in choosing a mate. But marriages were still mostly seen as business contracts, since independent single life was nearly impossible with all the labor needed to plough the fields and keep up the home. Slaves, who didn't have their own homes to make, were thus forbidden from marriage. Ancient Rome The end game of a Roman marriage, as in so many other cultures, was to produce legitimate children. Men were seen more as managers of Roman families, rather than members themselves, Coontz writes. Aside from needing official permission to marry foreigners, however, the state was not concerned with who married whom. Statesmen even married off their own wives in order to form alliances with other ruling men -- Marcus Porcius Cato did just that when he divorced his wife Marcia and arranged her marriage to his friend Hortensius. We wonder how Marcia felt. Indigenous People In some cultures, men took several wives so they could help each other with all the work needed to sustain the family. Women in Botswana had a saying: "Without cowives, a woman's work is never done," Coontz writes. In Australia's harsh natural environment, Aboriginals arranged marriages for children based on strategic accessibility of land, so the clan would have food and water wherever they traveled. Some Native American tribes highly respected "two-spirit" individuals, or those who could do the work of men and women. Two-spirit people could be married to someone of the same sex, since all the tasks needed to maintain the household could be performed easily, making marriage more of a labor concern than a gender concern. Early Christianity "Many early Christians," Coontz writes, "believed that marriage undermined the rigorous self-control needed to achieve spiritual salvation." Celibacy was therefore preferable over marriage, but sex was tolerated for purposes of procreation -- so long as you weren't marrying your cousin, second cousin, stepmother, stepdaughter, widow of your uncle or brother, or anyone within seven degrees of separation from yourself. (Best of luck figuring that out.) Medieval Europe For the rich, marriage was again a political arrangement between two families who wished to cement their ties and merge assets. Queens arranged marriages for siblings, relatives and ladies-in-waiting in order to create international support networks for themselves. In the 12th and 13th centuries, people believed that "love cannot exert its powers between two people who are married to each other," as the Countess of Champagne once wrote. Adulterous relationships, on the other hand, were the pinnacle of romance. To the Catholic Church, marriage simply consisted of a man, a woman, mutual consent, consummation, and -- very important -- parental approval. Parents had so much control over marriage negotiations that in 1413, two Derbyshire fathers signed a contract in which the bride's name was left blank, because one father hadn't decided which daughter to marry off. The plebs used marriage as a way of arranging plots of land, which were doled out in random strips. It was more ideal to have multiple strips next to each other, so you might hope your daughter could marry the neighbor's son. Traders and artisans in the same business often married each other to share supplies. 16th Century In 1563, the Catholic Church decreed that marriage was a sacred ritual to be performed in a church. They talked about doing this a few centuries earlier, Coontz says, but it would have rendered a lot of marriages invalid, because no one got married in a church. Meanwhile, Protestants declared clergymen's right to marriage while warning not to love one's spouse too much. A lot of people were still weirded out by the concept of affection in marriage -- one Virginia colonist wrote that a female friend was "more fond of her husband perhaps than the Politeness of the day allows." (In his defense, PDA does suck.) Throughout pre-Industrial Europe, though, historian E.A. Wrigley wrote that marriage "is better described as a repertoire of adaptable systems than as a pattern." Enlightenment Salon thinkers started ruminating on marriage and decided apathetic partners were a sad thing. Two lovebirds should have the freedom to choose their union, they thought, as opposed to parents making marriage decisions on their behalf, elevating the importance of companionship and cooperation. Marriage started to become the sort of private partnership we recognize today. Critics, of course, claimed that this equality between partners was the destruction of marriage as civilization knew it, because it undermined the male authority that glued households together. Silly women! The Victorian Era When Queen Victoria walked down the aisle in virginal white lace, she helped change the perception of women from the "lustier" sex to the innocent, asexual one. Ideal marriage occurred between a man and a woman with the strongest of morals. When sex itself began to be seen as too indecent for nice ladies, who were strongly encouraged to repress feelings of lust, men found it less stressful to just hook up with prostitutes. Early 20th Century Young people rebelling against their stodgy Victorian-era elders did so by flaunting their youth and hotness, so in addition to marrying for love, ideal couples around the turn of the last century also had satisfying sex lives. By the end of the 1920s, Coontz writes, intimacy between two married people had become even more important than ties with parents. Meanwhile, critics penned newspaper columns titled, "Is Marriage Bankrupt?" and predicted that the increasing focus on sex would lead to the institution's demise in less than 50 years' time. 1950's The pre-WWII era saw a "marriage fever" that resulted in a post-WWII obsession with the nuclear family. Marriages typically consisted of a male breadwinner, a stay-at-home mother and a couple of kids -- and unions were lasting longer on average than ever before. There were still laws, however, prohibiting white people from marrying black people, Mongolians, Hindus, Indians, Japanese, Chinese or Filipinos. Laws preventing people with mental disabilities from marrying also stayed on the books -- and even remain today -- though they went largely unenforced after the middle of the 20th century. Late 20th Century Feminist groups fought to ease pressure on women to find a man and settle down, helping to cement the idea of marriage as a partnership between equals. Marital rape was outlawed. States began repealing laws preventing some marriages -- bans on interracial marriages were declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court in 1967 and marriage of prison inmates was legalized in 1987 -- as the idea of a perfect wedding became more and more of a billion-dollar commercial enterprise. In 2001, the Netherlands became the first in a growing number of nations to grant same-sex couples the right to marry. All religions began with somebody's sudden flashing insight, enlightenment, a shining vision. Some mystic found the way and the words to share the vision, and, sharing it, attracted followers. The followers may repeat those precise and poetic words about the vision until they congeal into set phrases, fused language, repeated by rote and without understanding. Cliches begin as great wisdom - that's why they spread so fast - and end as ritual phrases, heard but not understood. Living spirituality so easily hardens to boring religious routine, maintained through guilt and fear, or habit and social opportunism - any reason but joy. We come to the Craft with a first generation's joy of discovery, and a first generation's memory of bored hours of routine worship in our childhood. Because we have known the difference, it is our particular challenge to find or make ways to keep the Craft a living, real experience for our grandchildren and for the students of our students. I think the best of these safeguards is already built into the Craft as we know it, put there by our own good teachers. On our Path, the mystic experience itself is shared, not just the fruits of mysticism. We give all our students the techniques, and the protective/supportive environment that enable almost every one of them to Draw the Moon and/or Invoke the God. This is an incredibly radical change from older religions, even older Pagan religions, in which the only permissible source of inspiration has been to endlessly reinterpret and reapply the vision of the Founder (the Bible, the Book of the Law, the Koran, ... ). The practice of Drawing the Moon is the brilliant crown of the Craft. But notice how often, in the old myths, every treasure has its pitfalls? I think I'm beginning to see one of ours. Between the normal process of original visions clotting into cliche, and our perpetual flow of new inspiration, we are in danger of losing the special wisdom of those who founded the modern Craft. I do not think we should assiduously preserve every precious word. My love for my own Gardnerian tradition does not blind me to our sexist and heterosexist roots. And yet, I want us to remain identifiably Witches and not meld into some homogeneous "New Age" sludge. For this, I think we need some sort of anchoring in tradition to give us a sense of identity. Some of the old sayings really do crystallize great wisdom as well, life-affirming Pagan wisdom that our culture needs to hear. So I think it's time for a little creative borrowing from our neighbors. Christians do something they call "exegesis;" Jews have a somewhat similar process called "midrash." What it is something between interpretation and meditation, a very concentrated examination of a particular text. The assumption often is that every single word has meaning (cabalists even look at the individual letters). Out of this inspired combination of scholarship and daydream comes the vitality of those paths whose canon is closed. The contemporary example, of course, is Christian Liberation Theology, based on a re-visioning of Jesus that would utterly shock John Calvin. Although our canon is not closed - and the day it is the day I quit - I'm suggesting that we can use a similar process to renew the life of the older parts of our own still-young heritage. So, I'd like to try doing some exegesis on an essential statement of the Craft way of life. Every religion has some sort of ethic, some guideline for what it means to live in accordance with this particular mythos, this worldview. Ours, called the Wiccan Rede, is one of the most elegant statements I've heard of the principle of situational ethics. Rather than placing the power and duty to decide about behavior with teachers or rulebooks, the Rede places it exactly where it belongs, with the actor. Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill: AN IT HARM NONE, DO WHAT YOU WILL. I'd like to start with the second phrase first, and to take it almost word by word. Do what YOU will. This is the challenge to self-direction, to figure out what we want, and not what somebody else wants for us or from us. All of us are subject to tremendous role expectations and pressures, coming from our families, our employers, our friends, society in general. It's easy to just be molded, deceptively easy to become a compulsive rebel and reflexively do the opposite of whatever "they" seem to want. Living by the Rede means accepting the responsibility to assess the results of our actions and to choose when we will obey, confront or evade the rules. Do what you WILL. This is the challenge to introspection, to know what we really want beyond the whim of the moment. The classic example is that of the student who chooses to study for an exam rather than go to a party, because what she really wants is to be a doctor. Again, balance is needed. Always going to the library rather than the movies is the road to burnout, not the road to a Nobel. What's more, there are others values in life, such as sensuality, intimacy, spirituality, that get ignored in a compulsively long-term orientation. So, our responsibility is not to mechanically follow some rule like "always choose to defer gratification in your own long-term self interest," but to really listen within, and to really choose, each time. DO what you will. This is the challenge to action. Don't wait for Prince Charming or the revolution. Don't blame your mother or the system. Make a realistic plan that includes all your assets. Be sure to include magic, both the deeper insights and wisdoms of divination and the focusing of will and energy that comes from active workings. Then take the first steps right now. But, beware of thoughtless action, which is equally dangerous. For example, daydreaming is needed, to envision a goal, to project the results of actions, to check progress against goals, sometimes to revise goals. Thinking and planning are necessary parts of personal progress. Action and thought are complementary; neither can replace the other. When you really look at it, word by word, it sounds like a subtle and profound guide for life, does it not? Is it complete? Shall "do what you will" in fact be "the whole of the law" for us? I think not. The second phrase of the Rede discusses the individual out of context. Taken by itself, "DO WHAT YOU WILL" would produce a nastily competitive society, a "war of each against all" more bitter than what we now endure. That is, it would if it were possible. Happily, it's just plain not. Pagan myth and modern biology alike teach us that our Earth is one interconnected living sphere, a whole system in which the actions of each affect all (and this is emphatically not limited to humankind) through intrinsic, organic feedback paths. As our technology amplifies the effects of our individual actions, it becomes increasingly critical to understand that these actions have consequences beyond the individual; consequences that, by the very nature of things, come back to the individual as well. Cooperation, once "merely" an ethical ideal, has become a survival imperative. Life is relational, contextual. Exclusive focus on the individual Will is a lie and a deathtrap. The qualifying "AN IT HARM NONE," draws a Circle around the individual Will and places each of us firmly within the dual contexts of the human community and the complex life-form that is Mother Gaia. The first phrase of the Rede directs us to be aware of results of our actions projected not only in time, as long-term personal outcomes, but in space - to consider how actions may effect our families, co-workers, community, and the life of the Earth as a whole, and to take those projections into account in our decisions. But, like the rest of the Rede, "an it harm none" cannot be followed unthinkingly. It is simply impossible for creatures who eat to harm none. Any refusal to decide or act for fear of harming someone is also a decision and an action, and will create results of some kind. When you consider that "none" also includes ourselves, it becomes clear that what we have here is a goal and an ideal, not a rule. The Craft, assuming ethical adulthood, offers us no rote rules. We will always be working on incomplete knowledge. We will sometimes just plain make mistakes. Life itself, and life-affirming religion, still demands that we learn, decide, act, and accept the results. Originally published in HARVEST - Volume 5, Number 3 (Oimelc, 1985) second publication: THE HIDDEN PATH - Volume X, Number 2 (Beltane, 1987), Judy Harrow.
The Mabinogi (or Mabinogion) is a collection of Medieval Welsh tales, mostly written down in the 14th and 15th centuries. It features tales of heroic exploits and romances, and is one of the many sources for the Arthurian legends. The first four sections of the book are called Pedair Gainc y Mabinogi 'The Four Branches of the Mabinogi', the last of which contains the following story of brotherly incest. Math ap Mathonwy was lord of Gwynedd, a fine lord and a formidable warrior, but subject to a taboo that he could not live in peacetime unless his feet rested in the lap of a virgin. So he sent his trusted nephews, Gwydion and Gilfaethwy, to carry out his lordly duties in the cantrefs of Gwynedd. Little did Math know that Gilfaethwy had fallen deeply in love with his foot-bearer, a beautiful maiden called Goewin, and that Gwydion was plotting to get Goewin for his brother. Gwydion was a man of magic and cunning. He set about stirring up war between Math and his powerful neighbour Pryderi and as soon as his uncle left with his armies to fight, Gilfaethwy broke into Math’s chamber and took Goewin by force. Pryderi’s army was routed and chased across the north with great loss of life until a truce was called and it was agreed that Gwydion, the cause of the war, should face Pryderi alone. This he did and, using his powerful magic, he overcame Pryderi and killed him, winning the war. And so Gwydion and Gilfaethwy returned to their circuit of Gwynedd and Math returned home to his court. But when he came to lay his feet in Goewin’s lap, she told him the truth: that she was no longer a virgin and that Gilfaethwy had taken her against her will. Math was furious and sent out a ban against his nephews denying them hospitality anywhere, so they were eventually forced to return to face him. The two brothers stood before Math in shame and offered to make recompense for their treachery and deceit. Math said they could not compensate for the loss of life and the shame caused by their actions, and that he would punish them. Quickly, drawing his large wand, he strikes Gilfaethwy and turns him into a lithe hind. Gwydion, anticipating his own fate, tries to escape but is caught and transformed into an impressive stag. —Since you have born a plot against me together, said Math —You will live together like wild animals and mate together and have young together like other beasts. And a year from now you will return to my court. So the brothers ran from the court into the woods and lived as Math had said: they mated in autumn and the following spring Gilfaethwy gave birth to a sturdy stag fawn. Then at the end of summer they returned to the court where Math met them outside the gates. Recognising them he raised his wand, but instead of returning the brothers to their human form he made Gilfaethwy into a stout wild boar and Gwydion into a wild sow. Then he struck the fawn, who transformed to a strong, handsome, brown-haired boy who Math took in his arms and named Hyddwn before sending the brothers back to the woods to live as wild swine. And so, once again, they lived in the woods for a year and mated, and this time Gwydion gave birth to a young boar-pig before they returned to the court at the end of summer. And there Math met them and struck them each in turn and Gwydion the sow became a fierce wolf, and Gilfaethwy the boar became a sleek she-wolf, and the piglet became a large red-haired boy. Math took the boy and named him Hychddwn before sending the brothers back to the woods to live as wolves. There, for the third time, the brothers lived together and mated and in the spring Gilfaethwy gave birth to a strong wolf cub. Then as autumn neared they returned to the court where Math met them. This time he struck the cub first, turning him into a solid dark-haired boy who Math named Bleiddwn. Then he struck the brothers who shed their fangs and fur and transformed back to their human form, standing naked before their uncle and their three own sons. Math forgave them and welcomed them back to court where they watched their three boys grow into three fine young men, who became known as: The three sons of wicked Gilfaethwy Three true champions Bleiddwn, Hyddwn and Hychddwn Hir Janet & Stewart Farrar, along with such personalities as Alex Sanders and Raymond Buckland, were at the forefront of creating and defining what would come to be known as modern Wicca. The Farrars were, themselves, initiated by Sanders. Almost all existing Wiccan Coven traditions today can be traced back to either the Farrars, Sanders, or Buckland.
This historical record allows us a glimpse into the beginnings of modern Wicca, then still called Witchcraft. In this rare televised interview, the Farrars talk about their beliefs and practices. Although their tradition was, and is, based on male-female polarity, it is important for Gay Wiccans to understand the roots and history of Wicca. The pentagram is one of the most revered symbols of Wicca. However, few really understand much of the symbolism behind the device. In this post, we will explain the symbolism of the pentagram with which every Wiccan should be knowledgeable. Orientation: The issue of a pentagram being point-up or point-down only gained relevance in the 19th century and has everything to do with the arrangement of elements. A point-up pentagram came to symbolize spirit ruling over the four physical elements, while a point-down pentagram symbolized spirit being subsumed by matter or descending into matter. Since then, some have simplified those associations to simply represent good and evil. This is generally not the position of those who commonly work with point-down pentagrams, and is often not the position of those associating themselves with point-up pentagrams either. Elements: Each point of the pentagram is identified with a specific element.
Drawing: The method for drawing a pentagram is different depending upon which element is to be used and if the element is being invoked or banished. Invoking is used to call upon the element prior to use and banishing is used to dismiss the element when work is complete. One never invokes or banishes Spirit with a pentagram. Cycles:
Cycles are important facets of many occult systems. Looking at daily, monthly and yearly natural cycles, we find periods of growth and dying, of fullness and barrenness.
Visualization: Pentagrams are visualized small, usually at about the size of a large dinner plate. The color of the pentagram is dependent upon which element is being invoked or banished – an Air pentagram will be visualized as yellow, a Fire pentagram red, a Water pentagram blue, and an Earth pentagram green. We are all familiar with the word "homosexual," which means "same sex (or gender)" in Greek. However, few among us have ever heard, or used the word "homophile." In the strictest sense, the word means "same love," growing out of the Greek prefix "homo" and the Greek suffix "phile." Homosexuality simply refers to sex between two (or more) members of the same gender. Homophilia, on the other hand, refers to love between two (or more) members of the same gender. Why is it that we have all heard, and used, the word homosexual but never, or rarely, use the word homophile? Historian Michel Foucault argues that homosexual and heterosexual identities emerged during the 19th century; before that time terms described practices and not identity. "Homosexuality" was a carryover and described the practice (the act) of sex between two (or more) members of the same gender. As it was the most popular term among psychiatrists, who still maintained it was a mental illness, it made its way into popular culture as a means of identifying those individuals who were attracted (physically) to the same gender. Love was never a part of the equation. Popular in the 1950s and 1960s (and still in occasional use today, particularly in writing by Anglican clergy), the term homophile was an attempt to avoid the clinical implications of sexual pathology found with the word homosexual, emphasizing love ("phile") instead. The term homophile began to disappear with the emergence of the Gay Liberation movements of the late 1960s and early 1970s, replaced by a new set of terminology such as gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender, (LGBT), although some original homophile groups survived until the 1980s, 1990s and even the present day.
In almost all languages where the words "homophile" and "homosexual" were both in use (i.e., their cognate equivalents: German Homophil and Homosexuel, Italian omofilo and omosessuale, etc.), "homosexual" won out as the modern conventional neutral term. One exception is Norwegian, where the opposite happened, and "homofil[i]" is the modern conventional neutral term for "homosexual[ity]" in Norwegian. Today, in stark contrast to the original meaning, the word homophile is used to describe an individual who accepts homosexuals, a supporter of certain rights of homosexuals, one who has positive thoughts about homosexuality, or an advocate of its social acceptance. (Sumerian Legend)
Gilgamesh is one of the great epics and one of the greatest and most psychologically acute myths of all mankind. In its brilliance, economy, and honesty, Gilgamesh is one of the great treasures of the human race. Gilgamesh, is an ancient epic, dating at least to 2700 BCE, which has survived into our era on some bits of cuneiform that were found in the shattered library of King Ashurbanipal of Assyria. When he first read it, it was already 2000 years old, and the Sumerians ---- the world's first great civilization, who created it, themselves had long been dust. It had such a formidable shelf life because it addresses a number of psychological truths, and presents models for some of life's great challenges for men --- among them sex, love, and death. It also sheds a light on the original male nature that men have long lost. Part I: Warriors meet Gilgamesh is the story of two warriors, who meet, fight, and then become inseparable lovers. Both of them came from very different backgrounds. Gilgamesh, considered two-thirds a god by his subjects, is a mighty warrior who rules a great city. But he's also promiscuous sexually, with both youths and maidens, and since no one can refuse him, the people of his city appeal to the gods to do something to curb his appetites. The gods respond by creating a male companion for him, another warrior named Enkidu. It's not surprising that the gods would decide to fashion a man out of their own spit and the rich earth of the fertile crescent in order to bring into being someone who will have the force to capture Gilgamesh's heart and turn him from promiscuity. The ancients knew that men make the best companions and lovers for other men as this story clearly reflects. This had to do with the basic nature of men. It's clear from this Sumerian epic that by now the institution of marriage was already there, and so was the pressure on men to 'reproduce'. However, sexual love between men had not yet become a victim of the politics of fake social masculinity. And love between men ruled. So it's natural for the gods to decide that the best way to curb Gilgamesh' promiscuity is to arrange for him to have a male lover. But, they don't simply give Enkidu to Gilgamesh. Instead, they set Enkidu down deep in the forest, where he lives like an animal and becomes the protector of the animals - something like Tarzan, a completely natural being who sees no difference between himself and the rest of creation. That too becomes a problem for the local people, since he won't let them hunt or trap, and they in turn send a temple prostitute to Enkidu to civilize him. She does, somewhat, by sleeping with him and so making the animals afraid of him, but she also tells him about Gilgamesh, a mighty warrior, the mightiest in the land. Her words anger Enkidu, who has always believed that he is the mightiest creature in existence. As he thinks about Gilgamesh, Enkidu's anger grows, but he doesn't act upon it till he learns that his rival is about to marry. That news truly enrages Enkidu, and he leaves the forest and goes to Uruk, Gilgamesh' city, and forces his way into the palace, bars the door to the bridal chamber, and there challenges the mighty warrior-king. Of course Gilgamesh is himself infuriated by Enkidu's intrusion, and so these two enraged heroes, mighty, god-like warriors, have a titanic wrestling bout all through the city, in which they knock down walls and destroy buildings and in general wreak the sort of havoc that superheroes do when they're battling. But what happens at the end of the bout is not what we would expect. For Gilgamesh defeats Enkidu, pins him, but instead of humiliating him or imprisoning him or killing him, Gilgamesh, in an act of true nobility, allows Enkidu to rise, and they embrace, and kiss, and go off together hand in hand. And they become constant companions and lovers, recognized as such by Gilgamesh' family, his subjects, and the gods. So that's the first great lesson of the story: that sex is always available, but that love must be fought for and won. And that sometimes contained in a great anger is a great love. Their wrestling match, then, is a metaphor for the struggle entailed in finding that love. Part II: Powers of an intimate male bond Having found each in the other his ideal, Gilgamesh and Enkidu embark on a series of heroic adventures, challenging monsters like Wawa, lord of a great cedar forest, and the Bull of the Sun. Together, Gilgamesh and Enkidu constitute a smooth, unstoppable team, two men who understand each other intimately and whose rallying cry in battle is "Two people, companions, they can prevail!" And that's the second great lesson of the myth: that an intimate male-bond can surmount almost any obstacle. Part III: The Challenges of Loss But, eventually the gods, and especially Ishtar, whom Gilgamesh has rejected sexually, begin to fear that Gilgamesh and Enkidu are becoming too powerful, and decide they must be reigned in. The question for Ishtar is what will most hurt Gilgamesh, and the answer is simple: killing Enkidu. And so the gods send a wasting illness to Enkidu, and Gilgamesh becomes his caregiver, striving vainly to save the life of the man he loves. Sometimes it's hard for Gilgamesh to accept what's happening to Enkidu, and he tries to deny the ugly reality of the disease that's consuming his lover, seeking to comfort him and himself with false hope and empty cheer. But it's of no use. Ultimately, Enkidu, created by the gods to be Gilgamesh' companion, is destroyed by them, and Gilgamesh is left alone. Gilgamesh is wrecked by grief and pain, and though he erects a monument to his dead lover (the ancient warriors erected monuments for their male lovers long before Shahjahan in the medieval world built Taj Mahal for a woman), he finds that his old life is meaningless. He gives up the rulership of his city, and embarks on a fruitless quest for immortality. And that's the third great lesson of the story. Sometimes terrible things happen to those we love, and that in our grief we can't go on with our usual lives, but must undertake heroic tasks if we hope to find ourselves again. Adapted from a piece written by Bill Weintraub Also see translation of Gilgamesh by David Ferry. Reprinted from HOMOSOCIAL World of Men. |
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