The Faces of the Goddess

For the first time in a long time, I have resumed my quest for knowledge of the ancient mysteries in a very real way.  When I think of the Great Goddess, I think first of meteorite, and I do believe that the sacred stone of the Kaaba is meteorite.

There are a number of sacred stones that were regarded by the ancients as somehow more than ordinary minerals, and in most cases, dedicated to the Gods or Goddess.  The traditional necklace of power for pagan priestesses (which is one of the most ancient symbols or attributes of the Goddess, and one that had to be surrendered to Death at the Gate by Inanna, is made from alternating Jet and Amber.  Both are transformed substances that originally existing on this Earth in a different form.  Amber is the fossilised resin of Trees and Jet is the fossilised form of Coal.

Meteorites are stones that the ancients experienced as attacks from the Gods or as dangerous gifts from the Gods, huge, heavy stones hurled at the Earth from the heavens.  Throughout the world, one can find meteorite metal mixed into warriors' blades and symbols of kingship or priesthood.

Yet, the ancient Egyptians used Basalt.  It is a much softer medium, of course, kind to the carver, far easier to move or transport once a statue of a God or Goddess has been fashioned, than an enormous hunk of skystone.

The origin of many Gods is perceived or known by tradition as a Cave.  This is true of the Great Mother, the Goddess Cybele, and this is true of Jesus Christ, born in a 'stable' that actually probably originally was a cave behind an Inn in Bethlehem.  The meaning of the town's name is 'House of Meat' and it is very interesting to read the description of Inanna's descent in the context of the significance of the birthplace of the Christ.

For it was in the Underworld, to which access for the Sumerians always was given through a sort of underground house with steps, that Inanna first surrendered all her attributes and symbols of power and then was hung upon a meathook to be tormented by flies.

Rocks, underground temples, caves, goats, wine, evergreens, sacrifices of manhood or womanhood... dismemberment of gods... all these must be explored.

Today I found a quote about goats:  This is from a book entitled 'The Riddle of the Earth' and focuses too much on the religion of the Hebrews, but even so:

Aaron made images of Golden Calves at Mount Sinai, a Volcano, for the same reason, and Mt. Seir, as the passages show, Goat Mountain, was anotgher volcano.  'Little Goats' is still a term employed by the Spaniards to indicate meteors, and comets or meteors, 'gods that came newly up' were the centre of a cult which as dolmens and cromlechs, pillar stones and round temples of upright stone yield evidence, prevailed throughout Europe, particularly in the British Isles, Brittamy and Normandy and are traced as far afield as America, India, and Japan.'

Hell with it... just add photographs of the text for now:

What interests me here most is the term 'little goats' for use with meteorites.

The Perils of Honesty

Honesty, where my family is concerned, simply elicits anger now, but in truth, this past year, overshadowed in every way by the ugliness and grief caused by Cancer, has made me feel I exist in a sort of limbo at the moment, between the doors of Life and Death.

I do not feel 'lucky' or 'fotunate'.  Perhaps I shall, if I can be given another scan that shows my entire body is clear of Cancer, instead of being told by a student doctor that my 'entire body was filled with baby cancer cells'.

My Mother died of Stage 4 Lymphoma in January.  I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Breast Cancer in September, a year ago.   Being a Virgo and discovring my cancer a day after my birthday, I could measure this as a year of hell from September to Septembe.  Or I can try to restore a less mad calendar, beginning afresh perhaps after Samhain, symbolically celebrating a festival of the slaughter of all of the animals that cannot survive the cold of Winter as a sort of sacrifice to the Gods selfishly for my own survival... or wait for the Winter Solstice and the Celebration of the birth of the new King... or indeed, wait for the Western New Year on 1 January.  What difference will it make in reality?  None whatsoever... it is the Fear that keeps me from seeing a 'new beginning', especially as I have lost part of myself physically to this monstrous disease, as well as a part of my heart, when I lost my Mother.

A year after the diagnosis, a few days ago, I went for a test to see if Cancer had invaded the right side.  I was given a clean bill of health in that very specific area.  I wonder if I am the only person who did not feel like leaping for joy.  In fact, I was suffocated by a sense of despair almost afterwards.  It was a promise of nothing.  It really meant very little in fact.... or at least that is my understanding, now that I have been told that the left side of the body is entirely separate from the right.  The left was invaded by Cancer to the point that it had gone into the lymphatic system, which means that it may have invaded the rest of my body (never mind left and right now.... the lymph system knows no divisions in that respect, rather more similar to blood veins than to flesh. )

Every one appeared to be angry with me, however, when I did not demonstrate any joy over this reprieve for the right breast.  The reconstructive surgeon somehow managed to persuade me to allow him to cut into the right breast, even though it was perfectly sound, to perform what he described as a little 'nip and tuck' to match it to the rather horrible artificial breast that had taken the place of the original on the left side.  One is hit by something like Cancer and intelligence and logic often retreat... the 'nip and tuck' he described so blithely consisted of actual removal of the nipple, to replant it higher, so that there are stitches all round it, as rather as a large incision at the bottom that looks depressingly like the one on the left from which they removed all of my breast.  So I feel like Dr. Frankenstein's monster and for what?  It cannot be for vanity's sake in all truth.

Every time I watch any film or series on the telly now, it appears that they must insert at least one character who is going through chemotherapy, whether male or female.  To me, that is blatant advertising by one of the biggest businesses of all.  Cancer is a big business.  When I refused chemotherapy on the valid grounds that I was allergic to the steroids that had to prepare one for the actual poisons they use, I was told I had no desire to live!  And yet, chemotherapy treatments do CAUSE cancer and certainly the 'anti-cancer' drugs they continue to invent can cause cancer as well.

Is it any wonder I do not believe in a future when the very medical profession peddle their treatments so aggressively that I am told I haven't a chance unless I surrender?  My mother had the same cancer when she was 42.  Same breast as well as same infection of the lymph nodes.  She had a slightly different experience with the radiation, as well as the amount of flesh that was carved from her body.  They now admit women in those days were given far too much radiation, but what does that really mean?  After my own radiotherapy, I first was told that it would remain active for a fortnight after treatment ended...  When the blistering, redness, pain and so on reappeared after two months, I was told not to worry.  Effects could last or reoccur up to two years after treatment.  Now, I am told that the radiation remains active in the body FOREVER and side effects can continue until the day you die.

So why should I believe in any of the myths, legends and fairytales that are fed to us as cancer patients.  The medical profession is trying everything.  For some, the motive is noble.  For others, it is commercial.  Whatever the motive, the chances of success are like throwing a dart into a board with a blindfold over the eyes.

Chance of survival, in my own opinion, after a year of this, is random, based more on the patient herself or himself than any treatment undergone.  I have heard far too many tales now of sisters who went through the precise same treatments.  One survived and the other died.  When you know this, how can you possibly submit to drugs that actually can CAUSE new cancers to develop?

Anyway, this post is not dedicated to cancer treatments but to the psychological effects of the disease on me.  I once was a fairly brave individual who trusted in destiny, trusted in fate, trusted in God.  Now I live with the cold breath of FEAR upon me from the moment I awaken until the moment I fall asleep.  I wonder if I can turn it round, if I can begin to believe in some future again.

The receptionist at the Cancer Centre went through breast Cancer and ALL the treatments twice.   I asked her if the fear has lessened now... the answer sadly was in the negative.

I can see how the old way of waging war, charging into battles could be LESS terrifying than this endless waiting for Death to creep into one organ or another.  Beheading is the act of an instant.   Being run through with a sword... very quick.  What always terrified me more was the threat of mutilation and now I have experienced precisely that at the hands of surgeons.  Little by little, being whittled away, but worse than that is the crack in the wall of protection that allows other diseases to make their way into the body.  I am not much in love with this sort of existence.  Like Keats, it would be easy to be at least 'half in love with easeful Death'.  I will not surrender.  I will continue to fight to live, but I cannot say that I really believe in any of it now as far as THIS life is concerned.  As for any afterlife, that is just a gamble really.  'Some call on Jehovah, some cry out to Allah.  Some wait for the boats that still row to Valhalla... but too soon, it's over and done.  And the Man for all Seasons is lost behind the Sun.'

Victorian Biblical Damnation and its effects

Welcome to my bizarre world.  In a situation that ought to be simple, where two individuals linked by blood ought to mourn together and work together to alleviate a common grief and a number of serious property issues that will end in utter ruin for every one if there is no cooperation, these are the responses I have been receiving lately.

Some one told me once that it is some one who can conceive of a specific crime who often will accuse another of that crime or act.  I have found this to be the case more than once since then.  When I worked almost as a volunteer at a local shop, I was shown by the son of my employer once how to falsify receipts and sales...  it never would have occurred to me, nor did I have any interest in doing anything reprehensible or dishonest.  At the same time, the three children were busy collecting and hiding valuables from one another and ordering my silence...  It is not I who has 'borne false witness'.  It is not I who covet the whole.  I actually want to be fair and try to keep my emotions and my attitude free from anger.

Reading these texts, one could be amused by the Victorian tone, the biblical language... if it were not for what they represent in terms of the mind of the writer.  If serious, it portrays a descent into a sort of insanity in my view.  As Cary Grant said in 'Some Like it Hot':  'nobody talks like that!'  'False witnesses who have risen up' conjures an image of zombies or the final trumpet blast on the Day of Judgement rather than ordinary people who have been subjected to considerable verbal abuse and cruelty by the individual who created these texts.  Meanwhile, from a distance of thousands of miles, other problems presented to me personally recently include a dead, decomposing possum and a broken door.  I am not a magician.

Saying 'No' to some one does not constitute hatred, but that is how it translates in the mind of this individual.  Three years older, I loved and still love this person dearly but never was open to much manipulation or intimidation by her.  That never will change.  I had hoped that years of therapy would have given her a less embittered and negative attitude towards life and others, but evidently the therapists simply reinforce her own vision of herself as the unique 'heir to the throne', some one who is potential prey to 'destruction' by every other member of the 'royal' family.    A friend of my mother's remarked that AA has a description of some of their members as 'terminally unique'.  That really does hit the nail on the head.  We were told always that we were special, that we had a very high destiny in our future. 

We are not that special, alas.  And we are growing older now.  The so-called promises of youth becomes unfulfilled desires and dreams.  Instead of raving about false witnesses and covetousness, people need to grow up after 60 decades, and recognise the limitations of reality.

Fear (Explicit)

Each night, now, Fear comes creeping to my bed,
Demands I fellate its hideous head,
At first, beaten and cowed, I took it in,
Consumed the poison, accepted the sin.

But now I resist, memorise its face,
Record each rape, each vile incursion into my space,
Whatever masque it wears, I know it now:
Whether to end my pain or drive me mad, I refuse to bow.

Soul-Searching and Honesty

'I have not been myself for the past six months'.  That was what came to my mind instantly as a response when I apologised to a good friend for a poor decision I made in a situation in an online game where I had control and opted to be strict rather than forgiving.  Yes, it is a game, and I was struggling to make sense and to organise a new, rather complex option in that game and I felt that we needed some fairly strict rules to provide a fair atmosphere for every member in our Community, but...

First of all, my friend was urging compassion and forgiveness.  She saw the human behind the player who had broken the rules.  I was struggling to deal with two horrendous situations:  the medical diagnosis of Stage 3 Breast Cancer for myself and Stage 4 Lymphoma for my mother, but is that not MORE of a reason to try to be as forgiving and compassionate as possible of others???  Instead, I felt pressured, pushed against a wall, felt that the player was taking advantage and simply not respecting the rules we had created...  in retrospect, I regret the decision I made to remove her from the group.  Whether or not she was taking advantage a little, whether or not she respected our rules... she still was a human being who had gone through her own real life difficulties and upsets recently and it would have been 'more like me' or the me I like to think I can be, to have been kind and let it all slide.

So this made me consider the entire concept of 'I have not been myself.'  It has no validity whatsoever.  A person who is in a good situation in life may find it easier to be the 'best' self he/she can be, but a person who is in the very worst situation in life still is the same person and how one deals with that situation is another aspect of the same SELF.  So I cannot excuse anything by claiming that 'I have not been myself' the past six months even though I do not FEEL like me, do not respond in the ordinary ways to life and have undergone profound sea changes in my soul because of the cancer.  I am sorry that I could not be better than I have been.  I have not been cruel or mean deliberately to any one, but perhaps I could have been more patient and forgiving in certain situations.

It grows very tiresome when people keep banging on about keeping a 'positive attitude' where cancer is concerned and even worse when one is told that a positive attitude is essential to survival.  I have NOT had a positive attitude.  This cancer should have been caught two years ago.  It did show on my mammogram but the tumour was ignored.... so that, for a start, rather put me in a less than positive frame of mind.   Then there are the lies and half-lies and propaganda of the medical profession and the pharmaceutical companies who are making money hand over fist because of cancer.  If one blindly accepts all of the pronouncements and treatment options, perhaps one could have a positive attitude, because that is one of them and people who look upon physicians, 'experts' and indeed any authority figure almost as a god probably would be able to have a positive attitude because there would be blind faith, a sort of general safety net for sorrow, pain and despair.

Unfortunately, many of my own physical disabilities could have been avoided or at least made less severe if I had received GOOD medical attention long ago.  I therefore am not disposed to believe in any diagnosis or pronouncement from any one in the medical profession.  I do have doctors whom I respect and whose advice I usually will follow, but I do my own research and I have avoided some potentially deadly results because of it.  Doctors do not read the patient's charts comprehensively and often will prescribe a medication to which the patient is allergic.  That is fact.  A new drug is released and promoted... how many doctors really study the details before they prescribe it?  In all fairness, allergies to medications are not that common, but even so, potential side effects, and especially serious long-term negative effects should be considered and that is not done.

Cancer treatment is a case in point.  There is a protocol that is followed and it is rather rigid.  Treatments depend on number and size of tumours, whether or not lymph nodes tested positive... and I think there are a number of factors that cause doctors to follow these protocols rigidly rather than questioning them too much.

Cancer is a killer and the world is desperate to hope there can be a cure.  The world is desperate for FAITH in the current treatments.

So you have:

Chemotherapy
Radiation
Drug treatments (tablets for a five year or ten year stretch)

If you have been diagnosed with Stage 3 Breast Cancer, you will be told you need all three of these.
Never mind that chemotherapy basically consists of pumping the patient's body full of poisons, after prepping that body with steroids.  Never mind that chemotherapy actually can CAUSE cancer.  Different cancer or in different places, yes, but deadly cancer nonetheless.    This beyond the nausea, loss of hair, depression, and whatever else is associated with chemotherapy.

I could not accept chemotherapy because my body does not tolerate steroids, so that was the end of that.  Before the doctor explained that chemotherapy actually required steroid treatments, though, my surgeon was infuriated that I even questioned the details of chemotherapy and its effectiveness.

What I have seen, more than once, sadly, is that you can have two patients with the same breast cancer, same stage, and both undergo the very same treatments.  Three years later, one has survived and the other has died.  Even in the case of two sisters, where biological foundation was similar: one died and one survived.  So what does this do to that very loud statement:  CHEMOTHERAPY WILL DESTROY ANY CANCER THAT IS IN YOUR BODY EVEN WHEN IT IS TOO SMALL TO DETECT.  It is a false statement!

Radiation now is a different matter.  It causes its own problems, but I do see some validity in the idea that the place where the cancer lived must be cleansed of any remaining particles, and especially if the cancer had grown to a point where it was very close to other organs.  They call it 'safe margins' and whether or not radiotherapy is prescribed has to do with the size of those margins.  I had almost no safe margins so I agreed to the radiotherapy.

Six weeks of it, five days every week.  Every one at the Cancer Centre was very kind, gentle, sympathetic, but I must complain about one aspect of the propaganda...  Radiotherapy can and does cause nausea for many patients and yet, when they asked me about nausea and I told them, quite honestly, that it was so bad that I barely could eat anything, the response inevitably was:  'That is surprising.  Radiation does not cause nausea ordinarily!'

Why say that when it is very much documented that, although not every patient will experience nausea, many do?  It always made me feel somehow inferior or that I was being doubted or that they felt I was some sort of hypochondriac.  Really upsetting to be honest, especially when it was the same response each week when they asked the question.

I changed my diet.  I did everything I could to minimise the nausea, but still would be awakened in the middle of the night with it on occasion...

In any event, that treatment is done but radiation can continue to be active for three weeks after treatment stops, and I definitely can attest t . My skin now will become irritated in a new spot that never was afffected for a day or two, so somehow it still is active in there.  Almost three weeks now though.  I pray that all of the symptoms, including the residual nausea I continue to experience, will stop soon,

Finally, the anti-cancer drugs that are given in tablet form.  There are four that are given for breast cancer.  Mainly because I wanted to demonstrate willingness after the chemotherapy rejection, I tried to work out a choice with the chemotherapy doctor in charge of all aspects of chemical treatment.  It turned out that two of the drugs were steroids and the third actually caused blood clots.  As I experienced a blood clot a couple of years ago, he said it would be very dangerous to take that drug now.  So that left one drug... and it is an extremely dangerous medication that can cause uterine cancer, inter alia.

I had an allergic reaction to it.  My tongue became so swollen I thought I would choke.  My throat felt as though it were on fire.  I had terrible headaches.  I took benedryl to try to counteract the allergic reactions, and cut the tablet in half... I struggled with this for about a month, and still nothing became easier.  Finally, the chemo doctor told me to stop taking it.  I feel that was a GOOD decision.  When the body rejects something that violently, it cannot be positive, and I do not have any desire to trade breast cancer for uterine cancer.

This was not supposed to be about cancer treatment, however.  I was writing about the idea that I have not been myself for six months....

Well, obviously, physically, I have been a different person, with the nausea, the other side effects both of the cancer and the treatments.  I am extremely emotional now, weeping on a daily basis at the drop of a hat.  This is partly the cancer, but I know it is partly real sorrow over the loss of my mother.

In fact, I began to suffer, thinking of my mother's ordeal, even before I discovered the breast cancer.  From July of last year, I was tormented by her situation.  The doctors diagnosed many different problems, and some of them were not communicated accurately to me.  I lay awake night after night, literally worrying myself sick about her.  Then the actual diagnosis of her lymphoma at the same time as my cancer diagnosis, and I began a new path of torment.  In a way, I was affected more by her situation than my own.  She flirted with the idea of chemotherapy, mainly because all of her friends and family believed it actually could cure her.  They do say that it is the only possible solution for lymphoma and it can rid the body completely of the cancer.  True?  Who knows?  All I know is that gradually, I came to a realisation that she had absolutely no intention ever of undergoing chemotherapy.  She kept making new appointments, then changing them.  She kept every one in a state of hope, I guess, but she knew she was not going to do it.

So who is this woman who cries every day?  I hate crying.  Always have hated it.  I become congested and it gives me a headache when I cry, and yet, I cry and cry.  I cry alone in my room... something will remind me of my mother or I will think about my own future, fraught with insecurity and hard decisions and the tears will come again.  And again.

I understand that I cannot have my life back.   What is gone is gone, and yet, there are things that matter to me from my past and I do not want to lose them.  As some one who is quite disabled physically, my world is for the most part reduced to whatever surrounds me.  Little material possessions that are attached to people, memories or stories mean a lot to me.  Those are the things that keep me sane in the dark moments.

The world is divided between collectors and what now are called 'minimalists'.  My mother was a collector.  I am a collector.  Where other people want to clear a space, I want to fill it.  I want to see memories and beauty and imagination at work.  I need that to breathe.

What is extremely difficult is living in the house of some one who is a minimalist.  What is difficult is not having a place of my own, always living on the edge of uncertainty, under threat of eviction.  I know things could be far worse, but at my age, what I would like most is some place that would be mine completely, where no one could challenge my use of the space or put me down for my love of little things, of pretty things, of unusual things.

What I have collected through the years never was based on monetary value.  In fact, I consciously devalued some of the items in order to make them less vulnerable to possible sale by any one who looked at things, not for their beauty or interest but strictly for their financial value.  So there are no dolls that are NRFB (Never Removed from Box) or at least very few, because I wanted to enjoy them and because I did not want them to be seen as 'collectibles'.

Now that my mother is dead, there are people who look at her home and see a lot of clutter or 'junk' but if I have any control over the situation at all, I am not going to allow some Ebay vulture to go through everything and put it up for sale.  Those items have significance, not only to her but to myself and possibly my sister.  We need to go through them to separate what is invested with familial or personal meaning from those items that simply may or may not be able to help pay off her debts.

Again, though, I have gone off the track I mapped for myself.

I HAVE NOT BEEN MYSELF OF LATE.  PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

How easy to make that claim and in many ways, one has not been the SAME self one was prior to all of this.  I cannot allow myself to justify less than stellar behaviour with this, however.  If I have been impatient or less than fully invested in life, please forgive me, but cancer and loss are not an excuse.  They are a REASON but there are no justifications on this earth,.

I do not believe that now that I have pondered this, and searched my soul.  The people who go about shouting and heaping abuse upon others are responsible for their actions and the hurt they cause.  That is what I believe.  Moreover, I know it is a deliberate course of action that makes them feel powerful, better, whatever... but that is no excuse either.  You do not hurt other people to make yourself feel better.  That simply is not on.

There is some truth to the idea that, if you loved some one, you should have treated them properly while they were alive.   When some one goes about talking about the deceased as though she were the centre of your existence, the most amazing person in the world when in fact that person ABUSED the deceased verbally, emotionally, and possibly even physically by withholding pain medication and medical aid to me is one of those situations where the feather of Maat will weigh down the scales to convict.

I really tried to be good to my mother before she died.  I tried very hard not to let my own cancer make me less than patient with her.  She was opinionated, critical, and infuriating, but I loved her dearly, and I now see that her refusal to look at reality squarely was born of her own ordeals in her youth.  She had breast cancer when she was 42, and she survived four more decades after that.  She created her own mythology that allowed her to have a good life.  'I was born happy', she would declare.  I think she simply stuffed everything else down as far as it could go into the hidden depths of her soul, and focused on a surface that was bright and lively.  She did this primarily by being a very social individual.  She could not stand to be alone.  She could not survive any intense soul-searching, really.    She never apologised for any wrongdoing, for any of her defects as a parent, for any cruel or unkind words to any one... but I think she was incapable of doing so.  She had created a coat of armour to protect herself and it had to be solid.  If she admitted any mistakes, the floodgates would open and she may have been destroyed.

I have not been myself...  my mother never said that, incidentally.  She very much was herself to the end.

I WILL NOT BECOME THE THING THAT I HATE.

That is another aspect of 'being oneself'.  All my life, I have experienced temper tantrums from others.  My mother was very fond of them.  She said a good temper tantrum was better than a cup of coffee to awaken her properly in the morning.  Early every morning as a child, I was awakened myself by the clash of pots and pans, and loud cursing by my mother.  What glorious freedom of expression that represented...

There was only one person who was allowed to have a temper tantrum, however.  The only time I tried it, I was punished severely, whipped with the little red belt.  (In those days, corporal punishment was not prohibited.)   So I learned quickly it was not an option for me.

There was one point in my life, however, when I was involved in a relationship with some one who was so gentle and passive that I could have screamed and shouted at him without ever fearing any physical or even verbal retaliation.

To my shame, I did throw a glorious, fully-fledged tantrum that obviously had been building inside me for decades.  It was a wonderful feeling of freedom, but followed instantly by intense shame.  I realised I did not wish to become the thing I hated most.  I would not become an abuser, a bully, a person who felt entitled to behave badly for whatever reason.   I would not be any of that ever.

Once in awhile, when my cats are particularly naughty, I shout a little at them.  Fortunately, they are not intimidated in the least.  They do not cringe.  Sadly, the bad behaviour does not cease either, but even those small outbursts make me feel bad.  They do not really deserve that much drama simply because one of them tried to eat a piece of plastic and spewed it up onto the floor.

Recently, I have seen a new trend in British television particularly, which is to go to a train or underground station and scream as a train goes by.  How I would love that!!!  That is a valid way of expressing all of that emotion that cannot be dumped on innocent bystanders.  Sadly, not a train in sight...

Dealing with Death and Grief

(Above, the Sumerian Goddess, Inanna, who took matters into her own hands, and voluntarily made the terrifying descent into the Underworld, to communicate and negotiate with Death and ultimately RETURN to Life.  It actually is far more complex and sophisticated a tale, and deserves more than a brief mention.)

(Above, Christ on the Cross with his Mother, Our Lady as witness to his pain, his agony, and his Death... and ultimately, his Resurrection from the Cave.  According to Christianity, Jesus is God become Man, who was born, died, and rose from the Dead.)

The Great God Odhinn hanged himself from the World Tree, in his pursuit of Wisdom, plucked out his own eye and threw it into the Well beneath the World Tree, to be able to see other worlds.  It is the tale of Baldr, his son, however, that belongs to the tradition of ancient mystery religions.  Baldr, God of Light, was slain accidentally by his blind brother, Hodur, using a spring of mistletoe, after all other living things had sworn never to harm him.  The mistletoe, as a parasite, had not been addressed, and the dart killed him.  ALL living things were required to weep for him as the price of his liberation from Death, but Loki refused and thus, this is a tale of failed resurrection.)

(Attis and Dionysus as well as other mystery gods suffered death associated with a Tree and were reborn.  This evergreen grows on the site of ancient Carthage and I recognised it at once as a symbol of Attis and took this photoraph.)

First of all, this is a post in progress.  I always have the habit, probably a very bad one, of publishing as I write on the internet.  The internet is such a fluid medium, so very different from a written journal or book, that I feel it is a medium that allows a free flow of words, of thoughts, and of ideas, in a way that other media restricts.  The danger, of course, is that many people mistake 'free' for 'unbridled' and much hurt can be done by declarations and postings made without thought of how they affect other people.   We see it every day.  I have 'met' thousands of people in my capacity as a writer of strategy guides for games and, through the decades, have discovered that often people do not really consider the fact that 'virtual realities' and 'virtual forums' still are comprised of REAL people.

Dealing with Death and Grief
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I never was a member of a 'Grief Group', nor have I been much of a fan of 'self-help' books. I did study and teach Comparative Mythology as well a making a lifelong study of religion and spirituality, and at the end of the day, I think as human beings, we have some very fundamental responses to Death and Loss.  Grief is only one aspect of that.

The worst part of Death for the survivors is LOSS.  The loss of a loved one is something that never entirely loses its sting, despite the beautiful words of the old hymn, 'Abide with Me'.  'Death, where is thy sting?  Where, grave thy victory?'  The response to that comes later.

First, though, when some one we love dies, we experience a terrible Loss, and it is natural that all of the tears, day after day, should be mingled with anger.  Yes, one is angry that some one we loved is no longer with us HERE.  We cannot have a conversation with him or her, hug or kiss the loved one, create new memories... apart from that, if the loved one experienced a hard death, an ending that was burdened by terrible pain, sometimes we are angry about that, whatever our religion or philosophy and however strong our Faith, if we have one.

That is all very natural.  I am angry about my own physical condition, about the cancer, about the damage to my spine that prevents me from doing so many things I loved and long to do again, about the possibility that a sword hangs over my own head, but most of all, the fact that severe pain marks every moment of every day, even dragging me from what little sleep I have to remind me that, beyond any family member, beyond any loved Pet, PAIN is my constant companion, an unwanted spouse, as it were, demanding attention.

Anger, however, is a destructive emotion.  Why should we allow Anger to further destroy our lives?  It is not easy by any means.  Every day, however, I must dissolve that anger and replace it with Love.  Raging against the heavens is counterproductive.  We are not Gods.  We do not control the Universe, and being angry about that lack of control does not change the reality.  This life is filled with sorrow, loss, and pain, but it contains great beauty, and joy, and wonder.

Furthermore, to wish that a loved one had not died in many cases is selfish, because, if that individual suffered greatly, if quality of life had diminished to a point of no return, it is better to let the beloved surrender to Death.  Death is, at the very least, an END TO PAIN AND
SUFFERING.  Keats wrote: 'I have been half in love with easeful Death.'  Swinburne wrote:  'For there is no god found stronger than Death and Death is a Sleep.'  In Keats' case, it was not some fanciful Romantic notion about Death but the horrible disease, Tuberculosis, that gave me a longing to escape the fetters of his physical reality, to bid farewell to a world that promised only more pain and very little hope of true healing.

'Darkling, I listen, and for many a time, I have been half in love with easeful death'.  Keats' 'Ode to a Nightingale' is a beautiful poem, which is why it still is known by people of all generations when so many of the Classics are ignored.

Swinburne was far more complex in his attitudes towards Life and Death.  He declared often that he wished to die young, and yet, he lived to a very old age!  I almost died when I was younger than my daughter is now.  An emergency surgical operation saved my life, and yet, I had been misdiagnosed for over a year and I knew, in my heart that something was very wrong... but the various specialists focused, not on my entire body, but only on the area of their own expertise.  Thank God I found a doctor who acted immediately, but my mindset changed, and I never thought I would live beyond the age of 30.  Like Swinburne, I was very wrong about that!

Now for Faith...

The Holy Qur'an states again and again that God hates hypocrisy and hypocrites above all else.  Muslims recognise the fact that we ALL are hypocrites to some extent.  There is a verse in the Surah Yassin, recited on the occasion of any death that asks, 'Why should we be afraid to meet the One who created us?'  To me, that struck a chord.  Whatever our religion, if it includes the concept of an afterlife, then we should not fear Death and beyond that, actually should be happy when a loved one dies, because, according to our Faith, it is the end only of the body and not of the soul, and, in so many cases, that body has been ravaged by illness, pain and sorrow.

It is this that makes us all hypocrites to some extent.  We have our various Faiths, but at the end of the day, it is difficult to surrender to the reality of Death and Loss.

Christianity offers a very positive message about Death, as did many of the old pagan mystery religions.  The very example of a God who takes human form and willingly submits to being sacrificed, to accept Death, with the hope and/or reality of being Resurrected or Reborn, cannot be clearer to believers.  The message, recited in the Creed, at every Mass by Catholics, by Anglicans and Lutherans, I think, at least, is: Christ was born, died, was buried and was resurrected from the Dead, and that promise of Rebirth or Resurrection was given to every one who believes.  Similar examples and promises exist in most of the ancient mystery religions.

In fact, Nature herself gives us constant examples of the fact that NOTHING wholly dies or is lost.  The plant that appears to die in the Winter emerges from the Darkness in the Spring, or if it dies, it has produced seeds that are born in the Darkness and ultimately continue the endless cycle.  It is a CIRCLE OF LIFE, not a dead end.

Positive Responses to Death
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It is a struggle to create and hold fast to anything positive when the Death of a loved one hurts so much and the heart aches constantly.  I was crying every day months before the actual death of my Mother, and although I recognise that her suffering has ended, and actually felt her presence rather strongly after her death, the tears come unexpectedly and repeatedly.

'If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.'

Emily Dickenson

From the 'Book of M'
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My Mum was a woman of declarations.  Since I was a child, she claimed to have an 'audio problem' which was her excuse I think for not paying attention or listening when OTHER people talked, when she was young.  As she advanced into old age, it became a real problem requiring hearing aids, which she called 'her ears'.  'Let me put on my ears' she would say.


There were certain words she was unable to pronounce correctly and they became part of an M Dictionary ultimately.  Statistics was one.  She always said, 'Stastistics'. 

This is a work in progress, but I am going to try to include as many of her unique declarations and idiosyncrasies as possible.  I did keep notes back in the day, but that was in the pre-computer era when paper that was stored in the garage often was destroyed by one or more of the forces of Nature over the years.

I inherited my Mum's love of wildflowers and although I think most of our neighbours on Olivetas liked her and either simply tolerated or were resigned to her perspective, it did cause the occasional comment.  Like M, I love Morning Glories, which, coincidentally have been assigned to the month of September when both my sister and myself were born.  Many people consider them invasive... I have had my own battles in other places where, if I did not rescue them quickly enough from their homes twining round telephone poles or the back of fences, neighbours would destroy them.  Nasturtiums were another favourite of hers.  I am partial myself to the pink, purple and blue flowers above oranges, reds and yellows, but I have planted nasturtiums in my garden as well in the past, because every flower has its own season and the yellows, reds and oranges must succeed the white, blue, purple and pinks of Spring in many climates.

Like M, rather than plucking out a wayward flower or seedling brought by birds from time to time, I would be delighted and surprised by the addition.  She did tell me there were some half-hearted complaints about some of the Trees that grew in the back garden in La Jolla, but she would declare: 'God planted that Tree in my garden!'

I personally love Trees.  Living in big cities like Los Angeles, London and Manhattan in my youth, I longed for a little plot where I could plant Tree and flowers and nurture them.  It was only when my daughter was born that I really created a garden of my own and it included all of the 'sacred' trees: Oak, Ash, Thorn, Birch, Rowan, and various evergreens... all the Trees of Tolkien and classical literature.  I still lived in an urban location but one with a small garden and, where neighbours were busy chopping down and uprooting trees to replace them with cement or stone, I created a little forest that provided beauty as well as privacy and shade.

The Symbolism and Effect of Domestication of the Dragon in the West

In the East, the Dragon is a symbol of many positive forces, including life energy but in Western culture from time immemorial, the Dragon was an Enemy of Life, of humanity and Nature, a greedy creature coveting treasure and gold without ever appreciating its beauty, without creativity or the ability to share.  The Western Dragon was a destructive force propelled by Greed and Hunger to emerge periodically from its underground habitat, to pillage, destroy by flame and its own immense hunger.  It somehow could sense the presence of anything valuable or beautiful and it directed its gaze instantly towards this, raping civilisation in essence, and taking everything back to its underground 'Muck Heap' where it simply lay atop it, defecating over it, in a sort of perpetual half-coma,  until hunger once again drove it to seek food and more treasure.

The Dragon is not alone in this role in ancient cultures.  In the mythology of Canaan, this position was held by the God Mot.  Mot now is the word for Death in Arabic and Mot lived in a cave underground where his main rival was a sky god named Baal.  Baal simply translates to Lord.  It was the God El who was the high god, over all the other Gods.

It is far more complex than this but the original myths speak of Mot's insatiable hunger in a description of a tongue that extends from the earth to Heaven.  Mot was a Barley God as well,  a Sacrificial God, who was cut down, harvested and winnowed in a cycle that alternated with the Sacrifice of the Bull, Baal.  Beyond this, however, I believe Mot is another manifestation of the primal Dragon.

How did the Dragon diminish into a playful tameable creature that people love and admire? Tolkien certainly followed the traditional definition when he wrote about Smaug, and there was NOTHING admirable or even negotiable about Smaug.  Smaug was an agent of greed and destruction, pure and simple.

My own introduction to the changed perception of the Dragon came when I read fantasy writers like Anne McCaffrey, with her Dragonriders of Pern series.  Dragons, if caught when small and relatively harmless, could be TAMED to serve humans, to act in a symbiotic relationship with humans and actually work towards positive ends.

Move forward to writers like George R. R. Martin and the fabulous Daenarys Targaryen, 'Queen of Dragons'.  The dragons of 'Fire and Ice', aka Game of Thrones, like Anne McCaffrey's Dragons, if approached in the right manner, can be tamed and made to obey the will of humans.  They remain destructive, but protective towards the masters or mistresses they serve.

My question is: are we being misdirected here to view a 'weapon of mass destruction' as a force that can be tamed and actually work for the good of the earth and humanity or is this simply a very different creature from its Western ancestors?  I submit that it may be a form of subtle brainwashing.  If the 'collective unconscious' exists, Dragons exist there as a warning against Greed and a force that negates Art, Beauty and Life.