some time back, the gods was sittin’ around watchin’ the goin’s on on earth and somebody of ‘em noticed what-all the people was up to and got to thinkin’ and then says, “ya know, the people’re just like us. they got all we got, but they just ain’t figgered it out yet.”
well, ever’body there, the gods, thought about it and seen it was so and then they started to get distressed.
“oh me, what’ll happen to us if’n the people figger out they’s just like us? they won’t worship us or sacrifice no mo’.”
“me-dammit! we gotta do somethin’!”
“sweet mother of me, what’re we to do then?”
well, they beat it about for awhile and come to the conclusion that the only thing they could was keep the people ignorant of their potential godness and the way to do that was to hide the knowledge someplace really hidden where the people would never ever find it, but where was that to be?
“we could bury it in the ground.”
“no, that won’t work. they’s tillin’ and minin’ and rootin’ around and no matter how deep we put it, they’d find it.”
“we could sink it in the ocean.”
“no good. eventually they’ll dig up all they can in the ground and then they’ll start lookin’ under the water. it’d take longer, but they’d find it.”
“well, then, let’s put it up in the air so high they can’t reach it.”
“oh, fer me’s sake, it ain’t nothin’ to fly! they’ll figure that out soon enough and then they’ll be all up in the air. we gotta think of someplace to hide the knowledge where they won’t never find it.”
the gods talked about and stewed and fretted and worried it over like a dog on a bone, but they couldn’t think of anyplace to hide the knowledge from the people. finally, they gave up and then one of ‘em says, “let’s go talk to God. He’ll know what to do.”
so they went to talk to the main god, the biggest, wisest, ultimatest of them all. they explained the problem: how to hide from the people the knowledge that they were of the same substance of the gods, in the same form as the gods and essentially, the same as the gods. where could that information be stored away for safe keeping for all time. the great God thought about it for a bit and came up with the answer.
“put it inside them. they’ll never look there.”
i got the above anecdote from a book titled simply living – the spirit of the indigenous people which i picked up for $.90 at a local thriftstore, which is where i get books – thriftstores, used bookstores, the free book stand downtown. i assume the deity which i pray to sends information my way when i need it and it frequently appears in book form. sometimes it seems completely fuckin’ random and i might believe it was if i believed anything was random which i don’t. i think the source of the story above was a mexican indian. i dunno. find the book and look for it. or look in that dusty old bible, genesis 1, unless i’m much mistaken, is where the serpent speaks to eve and tells her something to the effect of if’n ya eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you will become as god is, italics mine and there ain’t no apple in the bible in case you were wondering, ain’t no fuckin’ apples in the levant unless they’re imported. and let’s hear now take a gander at that talkin’ snake business.
ya ain’t gotta invoke the archeological record or the physical fact that snakes ain’t got voiceboxes to go pokin’ holes all up through the creation stor(y/ies) in genesis, that’s fer sher. the story don’t hold water. for one thing, there’s two different versions, one in which adam and eve are created at the same time (2) and one in witch eve is made later (1). and then there’s the numbering of the days. a day is the amount of time it takes for the earth to orbit the sun (or the sun to orbit the earth, if ye prefer), but the earth and sun weren’t made until the second day, so how could there be a first day if there was no earth and no sun, both of which must exist for there to be a day by definition of “day”? try takin’ genesis literally and thou’ll find thyself having to force thineself to believe all manner of bullshit that cain’t be believen without a shitton of effort. now, other handin’, if ye taketh it as a metaphor, then all contradictions and internal illogics lose any relevance and the onliest quest(ion) becomes, well, what then is the metaphor a metaphor for? and though they be infinite possible interpretations of this said and same, i’ll now propose one.
when is anybody ever innocent? has ye ever lived in a state of ignorance is bliss? when ya neither knew nor cared the difference betwixt male and female? when ya ran around naked in the yard and somebody else took care of all the cares and fed ye and sheltered ya and you nary had to work nor toil nor spin? has thet e’er been?
well, fur moist of us it has and fir sum of us it still is, cf. the lil’ sprat what’s runnin’ around, swingin’ a teddy bear, hollerin’ and terrorizin’ the dogs when she ain’t conked out, they’re-angels-when-they’re-sleepin’. aye’n thet little grrrl is neither eve nor adam, but both and serpent as well for the serpent is the symbol of nature and also of changing time, which is nature-all, for the serpent slides on its belly and hath no limbs to divert its chi and the serpent sheds its skin to be born again as the moon sheds its shadow as the earth turns to spring as the spirit slips its bonds to return to the source. sssso the sssserpent sssslips into the garden via the body’s own being, being a ssssymbol of the inevitability of growing up, which issss the end of innocence, the beginning of toil, not all of a ssssudden as in genessssissss, but gradually and sssslow, unless ye happen to be the da’ what’s watchin’ the wee’n ssssprout up’n e’erday sssseems sssshe’s taller and quicker and growin’ faster than y’re quite confortable with, sssseems like yesterday sssshe fit in the palm of yr hand. aye an’ i’m what’s the god in this story, sayin’ “whoa, slow it down, bonny bairn, no hurry to get growed”, but i know ‘tis inevitable an’ ‘t’wouldn’t stop it if’n i could, but understandable what fer tha lord said to hold off on thet verboten frucht. aye, an’ i change the diapers an’ sooth the skunned knees and provictual the bananananaas and’ve read peter rarebit ‘til i olmost witsh herr magregor’d catsh the bastard bunny and i giveth doon the law, “thou shalt eateth thine beans before thou shalt hath stra’berries”, “thou shalt not hit the dog with thy stick” &c and great and terrible is my wisdom and far-reaching my eye which seeth what has been hidden and discerneth what would be kept secret (i know who put the socks in the dogs’ waterbowl).
and aye, in the fullness of time, she will become as I AM THAT I AM, moor or less and whither she’ll know it is her own shiny green rock to find. (i’m gonna tell her whar to look.)
now, this’s the bibble we’re talkin’’bout, wherein patriarchy is the pattern and the earth is a fallen woman witch’s why ‘tis all aboot the faraway farther who art in heaven paralleling the human father off in the fields or factory by day only comin’ home to walk in the cool of the evenin’ and the garden of maternal delights bein’ not merely relegated to a subordinate posit, but excised from the story altogether. ‘nother traditions dost nay relegate all that is carnal to the realm of the wicked, nor also so malign the matearthnal as to make maturity a fall from, but to assign to age the assemblance of ascent, such thet the initiation into adulthood is humandatory. you can’t be a child forever an’ why would you wanna be? shore, them’s some drawbacks to growling up, getting yer bread by the sweet of yer brow and the pangs of childbirth, to mention the top 2 gender roles in the time/space of genesis’s genesis, but ‘tis only by the accumulation of age’s wisdom that conscious religioning can occur, that being the reconnection with that which from one has been unconnected from. so, the lil’ punkinhead’s maw should have a place in the story or mayhap she’s nay concerned, halving her own mythology, but as we proseed forward with the recreation of a myth from whence we can build a reconnected world, that being somewhat of what i’m putting firth as a desirable destination, let us nay neglect to include the veneration of the mater in the generation o’ the matter.
‘n’ so, thou so’n’so, the serpent spake the sooth and too, tis’ i am that i am still ascending kundalinilike up’n the charnal chakras to the top o’my own awakening and the becoming as god is is still becoming for the myth is always in the present tense for all tenents, wee babes, toothless hags and middlin’s as well. becoming as god is is our raisin d’eating and reason for beating and the serpent of the garden is the impulse of our growing toward knowing tha’ the farther was ne’er not near nor the dam damned and we’ve been reconnected to thar from whence we t’was always with. an’ the serpent is in us and of us as we art of’n the earth as the snake on a-belly crawls and rattles to hissper sweet nothings in our ears.