Pursuing natural health & thinking beyond the superficial. Deconstructing Culture.

Posts tagged ‘India’

Sleeping Beauty – The Dormition of Mary

I respect the young girl who was raped i.e. arranged marriage, to an old man, and then told by another ‘old man’ aka an ‘angel’ on behalf of an even older ‘man’ aka ‘God’ that she was having a special boy/son who was later called ‘the son of Man’ and even later ‘the Son of God’ and the baby was visited by ‘three Kings/Wise men’ (always the ‘three’). That poor girl her whole life and body was dominated by men, human and otherwise, and mansplaining. She had no chance, her existence was all planned out – if ‘he’ the chosen one, her son, was born knowing what would happen why choose to have his Mother’s life mapped out as well? He didn’t like how hard his life was/the direction in which it went and he knew in advance – both intentionally and unintentionally demonstrating that knowing something and go through it are two different things so why add to that and choose a girl who had no life/opportunity/choice at all? At least he could talk to God (or someone) and perhaps get an answer, she couldn’t at all as far as we know and it sounds like God or he and God (if they were even related in an immediate familial sense) picked a vulnerable/easily taken advantage of person to impose their plan(s) on. How nice. How good. Not. That is one of the types of innocent they were supposed to protect no? And no it wasn’t an honour or even an obligation/honour of duty as she may have seen it, she didn’t have a choice – she was a young girl she couldn’t make such big decisions herself let alone with informed, understood consent and she shouldn’t have had to – her choices were made for her. A child like the children in the world today who are married off and/or are children who have children and many of the rest of us in the world agree that even though it’s cultural we have moved on and/or we don’t like it/it’s not right and those who don’t mind are either of the ‘it’s not our children and there’s not much we can do about it so we don’t bother/just leave them to it’ mentality and those that want that kind of thing are deemed pedophiles.

Her festival including fasting period is almost overshadowed and even undone by:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transfiguration_of_Jesus

‘The Feast of the Transfiguration of Jesus is celebrated by the most Christian denominations on August 06, 2017. Transfiguration is considered a major feast, numbered among the twelve Great Feasts in Orthodoxy. In all these churches, if the feast falls on a Sunday, its liturgy is not combined with the Sunday liturgy, but completely replaces it.

The Transfiguration is the second of the “Three Feasts of the Saviour in August”, the other two being the Procession of the Cross on August 1 and the Icon of Christ Not Made by Hand on August 16. The Transfiguration is preceded by a one-day Forefeast and is followed by an Afterfeast of eight days, ending the day before the Forefeast of the Dormition.

The Transfiguration of Jesus is an event reported in the New Testament in which Jesus is transfigured and becomes radiant upon a mountain. Jesus and three of his apostles go to a mountain (the Mount of Transfiguration). On the mountain, Jesus begins to shine with bright rays of light, the prophets Moses and Elijah appear next to him and he speaks with them. Jesus is then called “Son” by a voice in the sky, assumed to be God the Father, as in the Baptism of Jesus.

In Christian teachings, the Transfiguration is a pivotal moment, and the setting on the mountain is presented as the point where human nature meets God: the meeting place for the temporal and the eternal, with Jesus himself as the connecting point, acting as the bridge between heaven and earth.

So even though I’m not Catholic or Christian I wouldn’t mind showing respect to this great female icon and I already have shown her recognition and sympathy by posting this and acknowledging this day two weeks ago but I don’t and didn’t need to fast even if I was of the necessary religious persuasion. Know why? I’m vegan and I fast/abstain more than that every day and I don’t even see it as fasting, vegans act every day for a better world via compassion to other creatures, the environment, human health and their own health. We don’t do too badly by the ethos of the New Testament do we. (Ha just recently I told a cleric I wasn’t going to have honey no matter what and outlined the reasons why even though it’s seen in many texts and science as a cure-all even in treatment for what I suffer from, so there. At first he was surprised and laughing but when I said I don’t laugh at his beliefs and it’s not funny he apologized, listened and quickly learned my ethos to be kind to all creatures great and small as something to be respected.)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dormition_of_the_Mother_of_God

“Dormition of the Virgin” redirects here.

The Dormition of the Mother of God (Greek: Κοίμησις Θεοτόκου, Koímēsis Theotokou often anglicized as Kimisis, Slavonic: Успение Пресвятыя Богородицы, Uspenie Presvetia Bogoroditsi) is a Great Feast of the Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox and Eastern Catholic Churches which commemorates the “falling asleep” or death of Mary the Theotokos (“Mother of God”, literally translated as God-bearer), and her bodily resurrection before being taken up into heaven. It is celebrated on August 15 (August 28, N.S. for those following the Julian Calendar) as the Feast of the Dormition of the Mother of God. The Armenian Apostolic Church celebrates the Dormition not on a fixed date, but on the Sunday nearest August 15.

Dormition fast

The Feast of the Dormition is preceded by a two-week fast, referred to as the Dormition Fast. From August 1 to August 14 (inclusive) Orthodox and Eastern Catholics fast from red meat, poultry, meat products, dairy products (eggs and milk products), fish, oil, and wine. The Dormition Fast is a stricter fast than either the Nativity Fast (Advent) or the Apostles’ Fast, with only wine and oil (but no fish) allowed on weekends. As with the other Fasts of the Church year, there is a Great Feast that falls during the Fast; in this case, the Transfiguration (August 6), on which fish, wine and oil are allowed.

In some places, the services on weekdays during the Fast are similar to the services during Great Lent (with some variations). Many churches and monasteries in the Russian tradition perform the lenten services on at least the first day of the Dormition Fast. In the Greek tradition, during the Fast either the Great Paraklesis (Supplicatory Canon) or the Small Paraklesis is celebrated every evening except Saturday evening and the Eves of the Transfiguration and the Dormition.[1]

The first day of the Dormition Fast is a feast day called the Procession of the Cross (August 1), on which day it is customary to have an outdoor procession and perform the Lesser Blessing of Water.

Significance of the feast

In Orthodoxy and Catholicism, in the language of the scripture, death is often called a “sleeping” or “falling asleep” (Greek κοίμησις; whence κοιμητήριον > coemetērium > cemetery, “a place of sleeping”). A prominent example of this is the name of this feast; another is the Dormition of Anna, Mary’s mother. [My comment – remember Anna and Anna-Marie stem from Ishtar and Inanna.]

Up until the 5th century Church Fathers do not mention the Dormition of the Virgin and to the 6th century Dormition was not celebrated among the Christians as a holy day.[2]

For example, Epiphanius of Salamis, a Jew by birth, born in Phoenicia, converted to Christianity in adulthood and lived as a monk for over 20 years in Palestine with 335-340 for 362 years, writes in “Panarion” in “Contra antidicomarianst” about the death of the Virgin Mary following: “If any think [ I ] am mistaken, moreover, let them search through the scriptures any neither find Mary’s death, nor whether or not she died, nor whether or not she was buried — even though John surely traveled throughout Asia. And yet, nowhere does he say that he took the holy Virgin with him. Scripture simply kept silence because of the overwhelming wonder, not to throw men’s minds into consternation [my comment – I doubt it was out of wonder and/or respect, morelike patriarchy like some people’s gospels downplaying Mary Magdalene’s role]. For I dare not say — though I have my suspicions, I keep silent. Perhaps, just as her death is not to be found, so I may have found some traces of the holy and blessed Virgin.[3]” “The holy virgin may have died and been buried — her falling asleep was with honor, her death in purity, her crown in virginity. Or she may have been put to death — as the scripture says, “And a sword shall pierce through her soul” — her fame is among the martyrs and her holy body, by which light rose on the world, [rests] amid blessings. Or she may have remained alive, for God is not incapable of doing whatever he wills. No one knows her end. But we must not honor the saints to excess; we must honor their Master. It is time for the error of those who have gone astray to cease.[4]” Christians in the late 4th century had different opinions regarding Mary’s death; some believed that she was martyred. For this reason, Ambrose, for example, wrote: “Neither the letter of Scripture nor Tradition does not teach us that Mary had left this life as a consequence of suffering from bodily ulcers.”[5]

The events of the Dormition of the Virgin, and the burial of several known apocrypha: “Tale of the Dormition of the Virgin” Pseudo-John the Theologian (V emerged in the mid-century or later),[6] “De transitu Virginis Mariae” Pseudo-Melito of Sardis (5th century),[7] the composition of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, “According to John, Archbishop of Thessalonica.” One of these apocrypha placed in the “History of the Church” Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos.[8] All listed Apocrypha quite late (5th and 6th century) and differ from each other content.

Therefore, the Church was not taken all their content, but only the basic idea that the Virgin Mary blissfully rested and Her soul was adopted by her Son Jesus Christ at Dormition. According to Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos in his “History of the Church,” the emperor Maurice (582—602), issued an edict which set the date for the celebration of the Dormition – August 15.[9] After that Christians in the empire began to celebrate the death of the Virgin Mary. Patriarch of Jerusalem Modestus (630—632) preaching, said at this celebration, regrets the lack of specific information about the death of the Virgin Mary.[10] In Rome the feast called Dormitio Beatae Virginis set by Pope Sergius I (687-701), borrowed from Constantinople.[11]

According to later Catholic tradition, Mary, having spent her life after Pentecost supporting and serving the nascent Church, was living in the house of the Apostle John, in Jerusalem, when the Archangel Gabriel revealed to her that her death would occur three days later. The apostles, scattered throughout the world, are said to have been miraculously transported to be at her side when she died. The sole exception was Thomas, who had been delayed. He is said to have arrived three days after her death in a cloud above her tomb and to have seen her body leaving to heaven. He asked her “Where are you going, O Holy One?” and then she took off her girdle and gave it to him and said “Receive this my friend” then she disappeared.[12] Thomas was taken to his fellow Apostles and asked to see her grave so that he could bid her goodbye. Mary had been buried in Gethsemane, according to her request. When they arrived at the grave, her body was gone, leaving a sweet fragrance. An apparition is said to have confirmed that Christ had taken her body to heaven after three days to be reunited with her soul. Orthodox theology teaches that the Theotokos has already undergone the bodily resurrection which all will experience at the second coming, and stands in heaven in that glorified state which the other righteous ones will only enjoy after the Last Judgment.[13]

Dormition versus Assumption

The Dormition of the Theotokos is celebrated on August 15 (August 28, N.S. for those following the Julian Calendar), the same calendar day as the Roman Catholic Feast of the Assumption of Mary. The Dormition and the Assumption are different names for the same event, Mary’s departure from the earth, although the beliefs are not necessarily identical.

The Orthodox Church specifically holds one of two Roman Catholic alternative beliefs, teaching that Mary died a natural death, like any human being; that her soul was received by Christ upon death; and that her body was resurrected on the third day after her repose, at which time she was taken up, bodily only, into heaven when the apostles, miraculously transported from the ends of the earth, found her tomb to be empty.[14]

While some Roman Catholics agree with the Orthodox that this happened after Mary’s death, others hold that she did not experience death and she was “assumed” into heaven in bodily form, just as her son Jesus ascended. However, Pope Pius XII alludes to the fact of her death at least five times, but left open the question of whether or not Mary actually underwent death in connection with her departure, in his Apostolic constitution, Munificentissimus Deus (1950), which dogmatically defined ex cathedra (i.e., infallibly) the Assumption.

On 25 June 1997 during a General Audience Pope John Paul II stated that Mary experienced natural death prior to her assumption into Heaven, stating:

It is true that in Revelation death is presented as a punishment for sin. However, the fact that the Church proclaims Mary free from original sin [my comment – sex though note that being raped and taken advantage of sexually in any way is still sex/sexual it’s not the victim’s fault and they are still innocent, perhaps even ‘innocent’ sexually in some people’s eyes too] by a unique divine privilege does not lead to the conclusion that she also received physical immortality. The Mother is not superior to the Son [my comment – was she not a chosen one as well? Who suffered and died not only for ‘God’/’his’ but for people as well?] who underwent death, giving it a new meaning and changing it into a means of salvation. Involved in Christ’s redemptive work and associated in his saving sacrifice, Mary was able to share in his suffering and death for the sake of humanity’s Redemption [my comment – ‘redemption’ nothing much has happened since has it? And the ‘second coming’ is supposedly about humanity’s ‘ascension’ – we haven’t even made up for any of our ‘crimes’ yet]. What Severus of Antioch says about Christ also applies to her: “Without a preliminary death, how could the Resurrection have taken place?” (Antijulianistica, Beirut 1931, 194f.). To share in Christ’s Resurrection, Mary had first to share in his death. The New Testament provides no information on the circumstances of Mary’s death. This silence leads one to suppose that it happened naturally, with no detail particularly worthy of mention. [My comment – seriously???] If this were not the case, how could the information about it have remained hidden from her contemporaries and not have been passed down to us in some way? [My comment – It’s called selective storytelling or truth telling, his-story and patriarchy, religious/culture ommission.] As to the cause of Mary’s death, the opinions that wish to exclude her from death by natural causes seem groundless. It is more important to look for the Blessed Virgin’s spiritual attitude at the moment of her departure from this world. In this regard, St Francis de Sales maintains that Mary’s death was due to a transport of love. He speaks of a dying “in love, from love and through love”, going so far as to say that the Mother of God died of love for her Son Jesus (Treatise on the Love of God, bk. 7, ch. XIII-XIV). Whatever from the physical point of view was the organic, biological cause of the end of her bodily life, it can be said that for Mary the passage from this life to the next was the full development of grace in glory, so that no death can ever be so fittingly described as a “dormition” as hers.”[15]

Both views agree that she was taken up into heaven bodily. The specific belief of the Orthodox is expressed in their liturgical texts used of the feast of the Dormition.[14]

The Eastern Catholic observance of the feast corresponds to that of their Orthodox counterparts, whether Eastern Orthodox or Oriental Orthodox.

More info about the practises of Dormition and Assumption on the above link and here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assumption_of_Mary

So being a pure being, Mary was ressurected like Jesus? Mary in relation to Ishtar/Inanna i.e. Venus (Venus the planet and Venus/Aphrodite) the Morning Star? Ishtar/Inanna are goddesses of a race(s) which isn’t always known for dying but when they do so it’s usually dramatic and can involve resurrection or at least metaphor for death an ressurection e.g. the decent into the underworld/netherworld giving up mortal ‘trappings’ such as sexuality and clothing/graces facing the Dark Mother, seven levels and then ascent. Obviously by the time they became Mary ‘Mother of [a] Christ’ (the earlier and longest lived in history ‘Christ’ in history being Krishna – and the fact that he (avatar of Vishnu), Shiv[a] and Brahm[a] are not the be all and end all nor absolute creators in Hinduism or even pre-Vedic Hinduism, they’re not creators at all and at times of extreme distress usually of their own making call forth and pretend to pay tribute to the Mother of all Lalit[h]a – she is above all of the Hindu Mother Goddesses, she was there first*) came along the sensuality, sexuality, aggressiveness and cleverness of Ishtar/Inanna/Venus/Aphrodite was turned into the perfect innocent (but still typically a rape victim – many goddesses and divine females suffer rape) non-sexual free of ‘sin’ being even though she was married and even though ‘God’ choosing to use her baby to either be or be possessed by another ‘soul’/character (later commonly known as ‘Jesus’).

Either way kudos to her, she had it tough.

 

P.S. Interestingly enough as per the Gregorian calendar August 15 [1947 after WWII] is the anniversary of the Independence of India – the oldest still living Mother Goddess (though twisted/morphed version) culture.

 

*Ancient gods and God herself are written/told to spend much of their time sleeping (‘dormition’/asleep), dreaming and breathing/meditating – the breath of/or brahma i.e. the inwards and outwards motion of breath is the same as the movement of the universe and creation predominantly our galaxy towards and outwards from its centre and the Maya is the illusion/dream/barrier/veil between creation and potential or dreaming and waking, truth and lie. Creation/existence as we know it is seen as a dream perhaps even a daydream or forced dream and part of the or a cycle of breath of God.

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Stupid cultural practices designed to invert/subvert the earlier intention

In no particular order:

1) Meat off a hook, hanging on tenterhooks – oops I mean ‘Garudan Thookam’:

Aka – insulting the root Goddess, as usual, and doing it through torture.

http://artkerala.weebly.com/garudan-thookam.html

Garudan Thookkam (Eagle Hanging) is a ritual art form performed in Kali temples of south Kerala. The people who dress up as Garuda perform the dance. After the dance performance, the hang-designate dangle from a shaft hooking the skin on his back. In some places, the ritual is performed colorfully with Garudas taken in a procession on bullock carts or boats or hand pulled carts. It will be available in Devi temple during the festival of Meena bharani and Pathamudayam in Thiruvanchoor in Kottayam district. During the ritual, the performer — with face painted green, and body complete with attached wings and red beak — undertakes a special dance. Following this, he strategically inserts a metal hook into his back and swings from a connected rope, wings outstretched. The blood that the performer sheds is viewed as an offering to the goddess.

Legend has it that even after slaying Darika, Kali remained insatiable and thirsty. At this time Vishnu sent Garuda to Kali to quench the thirst. A dancing and bleeding Garuda was taken to Kali and only after getting some drops of blood from Garuda, Kali was pacified. The ritual is performed based on this belief.

There is a famous Garudan Thookam at the Elamkavu Devi temple at Vadayar in Vaikkom taluk of Kottayam district. During the Aswathi, Bharanthi days of Meenam Month (Malayalam), more than 40 to 50 numbers of Garudan in the Thooka chadus, decorated and floated in thoni vallams (big country-boats), travel behind the Attuvela – a wooden structure constructed in the form of a three storied building which is considered as the floating temple of the Goddess Kali in the Moovattupuzha river. This is one of the best sights, with illuminated Structures. After the night long performance with the help of scores of chenda experts, the Garudans – bleeding after the Choondakuthal (Piercing of the skin on their back with a sharp metal hook) will be hung on a tall pedestal-like structure and taken thrice around the temple by the devotees. This is seen at the Pazhaveedu temple at Alappuzha district. But here the performance is done on a chariot-like structure on the road.

Garudan Thookkam 2

How much cocaine you on boys?

How much cocaine you on boys?

Want a whipping with that?

Want a whipping with that?

Oh what fun. Howabout a maypole, make it sexual too and we can swing you round and round.

Oh what fun. Howabout a maypole, make it sexual too and we can swing you round and round.

Taking the piss is more like it, as Hinduism or new/Post-Vedic Hinduism did when it amalgamated and took over/usurped. The same goes human/animal sacrifice and beating women/children before the Goddess (the real Goddess thank you very much, none of the shitty little wannabes that came after, I’m looking at you traitor ‘snake’ bitches Durga, Laxmi and Saraswati) because men beating women and children in the name of Kali is really what the protector of the innocent (i.e. moreso human women & children and other animals in general) would condone. That’s just the same as people who rape them before the Goddess or any ‘goddess’ especially Mother Goddesses to say ‘hey look what I’m doing, what are you going to do about it? Hahaha.’

Now if it were the ‘real’ Garuda I would not be so against it and if it were ‘Vishnu’ hell yeah string the bastard up now! But wannabes and sacrifices/proxies? I know you’re cheap, but We’re priceless. I’m against sacrifice.

2) Throw your babies off a 50ft tower for good luck (Hindu and Muslim)

Yeah it’s been going on over half a millenium. In the spirit of animal mothers who throw their babes off everything from cliffs to ice bergs to see if they survive? Whilst I’ve never been keen on that design specification, the human version is not to show them the trials of life by throwing them off the ‘deep end’ (and hoping they don’t remember it) – it’s for something in return i.e. luck, prosperity/success etc all that material garbage. They catch them in a net, so that makes it ok…

I won’t post a picture, the men above quasi-not-really-too-stupid-to-know-better-but-will-do-anything-to-get-ahead chose to hang themselves in that unusual way. The kids didn’t.

3) Wasting [vegetarian] food even whilst poor.

Doing stupid things for material compensation/materialism is the norm (and also for lust based love rather than actual love) but there’s also living vicariously/basking in the glow/achievement or in this case pointless inherited status of others. In this case Brahmins (by default rather than say by meritocracy, there’s tons of ‘brahmin’ families who stick to the title, have done nothing to earn it, act like their ancestors achievements are theirs and are greedy, rich folk when priests are supposed to be poor or at least conscientious) and their leftovers. Now I might be a ‘poison taster’ (and multiple time survivor, I’m tough) for my Mum and finisher of the leftovers/everything that She makes but doesn’t want, doesn’t like, makes en masse but changes her mind and can’t be bothered with and I’ll have to finish it even if its about to go off (and put on weight because of the extra) but hey I’ve asserted my rights lately and she finishes her damned food now (now if only the cat would do the same) but I never used to roll around in it first…

Seriously, there’s a practice where people roll around on the leftovers of Brahmins (who technically are supposed to have what is offered to them, not the other way round) for good luck etc. Some people will do anything. The art of rolling is actually really good for you and significant but on food? Why not just bathe in the mud and get it over with, at least you’ll have massively clean skin afterwards. I can understand not sharing food or not wanting people too close or touching you – that’s an energy thing (and contamination thing) – but their food is so holy that you roll around in it?

Rolling in leftover Brahmin food

Some places are trying to alter this by making it untasted food, but people want what they want.

4) Females are inferior but we’ll make you even moreso by saying you’re not only unclean, you’re possessed too (or we’ll make sure you’re possessed first by a contract/ritual so that we can say that) and then we’ll degrade and desecrate you further but exorcising you via bestiality, if we like you a tiny bit maybe a tree marriage.

Girls, women, ladies, if you have any kind of deformity, anything unattractive, any kind of undesirable behaviour (damn that means me then on maximum impact) then you might have to marry an animal or a tree before having the honour of an arranged marriage to man you don’t know/like/want anyway. It’s like how the medical profession in Britain used to call behaving in any way males and evil enabler females decided was unladylike then you had a disease or physical (usually genital) problem to be treated or operated on.

Since when was marriage about love?

Exorcism-by-Marriage

Man’s best friend.

Who comes up with this trash? Oh yeah, power hungry secret keepers. It’s ridiculous how people don’t stand up for each other though or for those who try to help them, preferring their victimizers.

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Wonder Woman, Warrior Princess, the Daughter

Sidenote moan – the summers here in sunnyland (not the real name) can be annoying, you know how people randomly space themselves out in places like beaches, parks, toilets, public transport so they can have a bit of privacy even if they’re close together? Well last year a bunch of commercial class vans set up a formation right behind us on the land behind us & our neighbours whereas everybody else was nicely spaced out. Also the back hedgerow was and still is cut down behind us only and not the neighbours so visitors behind and people at the front can look right through. Reminds me of the daffodils that kept getting their heads chopped off in front of us but no one elses. Sidenote note – we saw a lot of Spring blooms in Winter last year, t’was pretty.

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Ok, when it comes to US comic book heroines (mainly from DC and Marvel) one of the oldest and most famous heroines is Wonder Woman ‘Warrior Princess’ and does it surprise me that she is the most famous and one of the most well thought out? No. She is the archetypal Daughter and everybody wants the Daughter’s favour because that apparently implies having the Mother’s blessing and not having the Dark Mother as the enemy. The problem is the story is always manipulated and abused.

In Wonder Woman Diana is the Daughter and a ‘First’ figure, not a normal birth made from clay by the Mother Hippolyta the Amazon Queen and like Pandora (Dor-, Dora, Dorothea, Dorothy, Dolly), Diana is blessed by many of the pantheon. The Dark Mother was added later as Diana’s younger sister Troia (the triplicate) Darkstar who does not feature so much in this story but is reincarnated later as a Mother/Dark Mother morph in Xena: Warrior Princess (and Gabrielle the Daughter), whose history with the gods is similar to that of Hippolyta. The writers made sure to differentiate a little by saying that Xena was not an Amazon, however she was an honorary one and Gabrielle later received the title as their Queen albeit temporary, it was also through Gabrielle that Hope was born after she was raped in Britain/Britannia by the new monotheistic One God. Hope is later a lover of Ares and bears ‘the Destroyer’ (a monster son, like that forced on Hippolyta by Ares), after their death the Furies try to bring about the death of Xena’s daughter Eve. It is a horribly, horribly twisted story, and remember it has its roots in India which was then (historically and disputed by some Indian scholars) thought to be invaded/corrupted by a Northern influence, following the changes in Egypt and Mesopotamia. Xena’s chakram is an Indian weapon, the first one referenced as a weapon of Indian gods and being one of a pair: Light and Dark, the Dark one stolen by Ares from a masculine god called Kal but as we know the Greaco-Roman cultures are copies and morphs of what was there before and the root Dark Goddess is Kali, and Ares gave that chakram to Xena, the Dark Mother figure of the story. Her second chakram is a united dual yin-yang version. Even the title for the Daughter i.e. ‘Princess’ is ‘Kar’ or ‘Kaur’ in Indian, and the root Indo-Iranian ‘Kar-‘ make, build, war – can be used for warrior (in this case that would read amazon), a middle name many Indian females have.

Wonder Woman as a Graeco-Romanized version and includes the Persephone story where the Daughter is separated from her Mother, that is a version of the older Ishtar and Inanna story. Covering all bases the ‘creators’ of Wonder Woman based her Mother’s home on Paradise Island, a direct rip off of the island/home of the Creator Divine Mother Devi Lalita and the Sri Yantra (all the old goddesses combined in one geometric mandala/pagoda which has been changed to include modern gods and goddesses). Lalitha is both the creator of the universe/multi-verse and all beings/bodies as well as the uni/multiverse it/themselves (the formed and formless way of explaining). Whilst the Sri Yantra represents all the goddess forms together and separate, it is also a vehicle. In some depictions the throne consists of the corpses of the invading and current pantheon of Hindu gods – so it is prophetic, the dark star system (Nibiru et al) being the throne of the goddess. The ‘children’/creation/workers conquered/tricked/deceived the Mother but their end is foretold/already decided.

As usual to come into the modern/Vedic world the feminine is masculanized in some way, so Diana the Princess becomes Diana Prince as her alias in the USA, the US being one big mesh of ancient Egyptian to later Graeco-Roman symbolism. Diana’s creation is also changed into a human style birth in later versions of Wonder Woman, fathered by Zeus, following deception, drugging and rape of Hippolyta and the Amazons by Hercules and his men orchestrated by Ares (when Hippolyta had wanted peace); and as usual later on Zeus also wants to rape the Daughter Wonder Woman. In the Wonder Woman story, after this massive defeat and degradation half of the Amazon population move to a fictional location in the Middle East. The is the conquering of the root Goddess/Feminine by the later God/Patriarchal culture. The father raping the daughter, and indeed continued practice of some ‘religious’ and magic practitioners as my Mother was after she was brought to Britain to be brutalised and enslaved as a child – a Living God where the family believed through her suffering and purity/good behaviour they would also benefit – very Christ like (again an Indian term) where the innocent is sacrificed/used by the many thinking they can be forgiven/redeemed that way – is constant in old/changeover cultures such as Ares being the father of Hippolyta in Amazon legend.

In at least one of the few matrilineal societies in India the inheritance goes to the youngest daughter who is supposed to act as caretaker to the rest (in practice of course older children are substitute parents) but by caretaker they mean the benefactor of the spoils; in our case the children of Mum’s generation were named after historical ages of creation and humanity via the divine god and concept names (similar to how the Wonder Woman saga is split into ages/yugas; Gold, Silver, Bronze, Modern) and after the suffering of the eldest the ‘victor’ is the youngest – my Mum used to be told how her youngest sister got wonderful things for her wedding and would be happy etc whilst Mum was forced and manipulated into marriages and got nothing. So us eldest born have all the sh*t and the youngsters are supposed to reap, just as Mum and I have almost always been poor whereas others had benefits like learning to drive, jobs of their choosing, property. My Mother was told when she wanted to drive “if you learned to drive, you could go anywhere and we’d lose you” amongst many of the things she’s been told in her life like a mason stranger asking her to “give us Mars” and “we want to sell shares in you” (as if they haven’t already been taking pounds of flesh/stocks in the life/energy). Some masons took it upon themselves to start calling me Christina, the Divine Child, the Princess in the Pyramid, and prior to all that there was a random group of people who stopped me on a Valentine’s Day outside where we lived and asked me to be their ‘Pandora’, although a similar thing happened in New Orleans previously. Interesting enough in December 2012 the the ‘First Born’, the first child, son, of Hera and Zeus was added to the Wonder Woman story as Diana’s enemy and again copying the Lalita Indian culture – the prophecy surrounding the ‘First Born’ was that he would sit on his father’s throne with his family’s corpses around him. The use of Diana vs First Born reflects similar customs of the ‘dark’ and ‘light’ child in some Asian societies where the ‘dark’ is seen as negative and the ‘light’ positive, the ‘light’ usually being the privileged child who has the fun, prestige and honour; this yin yang symbolism is even more poignant if first borns are used and their birthdays solstices.

The story is ingrained in people, people are their stories whether they know it or not and there are people who go to lengths to keep the stories and the lines going (powerful bloodlines consider themselves god and god/alien descendents), the storytellers e.g. media and education keep them in the cultural consciousness too, adapting to the times. You don’t have to know these people to be affected by them but typically children are sold out/groomed by people in their lives.

Much twisting was utilized to include the Mother-Daughter story into the cradles of civilization and it morphed from herstory to history even more when eventually it became a tool for US American patriotism and using the ‘love’ angle to pair/confuse/distract the Goddess with an entirely unsuitable ‘partner’ to keep Her in place especially when the Goddess doesn’t mate. Steve couldn’t have any better than Diana, whereas she could have much better. She never should have left the Aegean Sea let alone by herself.

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/origin-story-wonder-woman-180952710/?no-ist

The Surprising Origin Story of Wonder Woman
The history of the comic-book superhero’s creation seven decades ago has been hidden away—until now

“Noted Psychologist Revealed as Author of Best-Selling ‘Wonder Woman,’” read the astonishing headline. In the summer of 1942, a press release from the New York offices of All-American Comics turned up at newspapers, magazines and radio stations all over the United States. The identity of Wonder Woman’s creator had been “at first kept secret,” it said, but the time had come to make a shocking announcement: “the author of ‘Wonder Woman’ is Dr. William Moulton Marston, internationally famous psychologist.” The truth about Wonder Woman had come out at last.

Or so, at least, it was made to appear. But, really, the name of Wonder Woman’s creator was the least of her secrets.

Wonder Woman is the most popular female comic-book superhero of all time. Aside from Superman and Batman, no other comic-book character has lasted as long. Generations of girls have carried their sandwiches to school in Wonder Woman lunchboxes. Like every other superhero, Wonder Woman has a secret identity. Unlike every other superhero, she also has a secret history.

In one episode, a newspaper editor named Brown, desperate to discover Wonder Woman’s past, assigns a team of reporters to chase her down; she easily escapes them. Brown, gone half mad, is committed to a hospital. Wonder Woman disguises herself as a nurse and brings him a scroll. “This parchment seems to be the history of that girl you call ‘Wonder Woman’!” she tells him. “A strange, veiled woman left it with me.” Brown leaps out of bed and races back to the city desk, where he cries out, parchment in hand, “Stop the presses! I’ve got the history of Wonder Woman!” But Wonder Woman’s secret history isn’t written on parchment. Instead, it lies buried in boxes and cabinets and drawers, in thousands of documents, housed in libraries, archives and collections spread all over the United States, including the private papers of creator Marston—papers that, before I saw them, had never before been seen by anyone outside of Marston’s family.

The veil that has shrouded Wonder Woman’s past for seven decades hides beneath it a crucial story about comic books and superheroes and censorship and feminism. As Marston once put it, “Frankly, Wonder Woman is psychological propaganda for the new type of woman who, I believe, should rule the world.”

Comic books were more or less invented in 1933 by Maxwell Charles Gaines, a former elementary school principal who went on to found All-American Comics. Superman first bounded over tall buildings in 1938. Batman began lurking in the shadows in 1939. Kids read them by the piles. But at a time when war was ravaging Europe, comic books celebrated violence, even sexual violence. In 1940, the Chicago Daily News called comics a “national disgrace.” “Ten million copies of these sex-horror serials are sold every month,” wrote the newspaper’s literary editor, calling for parents and teachers to ban the comics, “unless we want a coming generation even more ferocious than the present one.”

To defend himself against critics, Gaines, in 1940, hired Marston as a consultant. “‘Doc’ Marston has long been an advocate of the right type of comic magazines,” he explained. Marston held three degrees from Harvard, including a PhD in psychology. He led what he called “an experimental life.” He’d been a lawyer, a scientist and a professor. He is generally credited with inventing the lie detector test: He was obsessed with uncovering other people’s secrets. He’d been a consulting psychologist for Universal Pictures. He’d written screenplays, a novel and dozens of magazine articles. Gaines had read about Marston in an article in Family Circle magazine. In the summer of 1940, Olive Richard, a staff writer for the magazine, visited Marston at his house in Rye, New York, to ask him for his expert opinion about comics.

“Some of them are full of torture, kidnapping, sadism, and other cruel business,” she said.

“Unfortunately, that is true,” Marston admitted, but “when a lovely heroine is bound to the stake, comics followers are sure that the rescue will arrive in the nick of time. The reader’s wish is to save the girl, not to see her suffer.”

Marston was a man of a thousand lives and a thousand lies. “Olive Richard” was the pen name of Olive Byrne, and she hadn’t gone to visit Marston—she lived with him. She was also the niece of Margaret Sanger, one of the most important feminists of the 20th century. In 1916, Sanger and her sister, Ethel Byrne, Olive Byrne’s mother, had opened the first birth-control clinic in the United States. They were both arrested for the illegal distribution of contraception. In jail in 1917, Ethel Byrne went on a hunger strike and nearly died.

Olive Byrne met Marston in 1925, when she was a senior at Tufts; he was her psychology professor. Marston was already married, to a lawyer named Elizabeth Holloway. When Marston and Byrne fell in love, he gave Holloway a choice: either Byrne could live with them, or he would leave her. Byrne moved in. Between 1928 and 1933, each woman bore two children; they lived together as a family. Holloway went to work; Byrne stayed home and raised the children. They told census-takers and anyone else who asked that Byrne was Marston’s widowed sister-in-law. “Tolerant people are the happiest,” Marston wrote in a magazine essay in 1939, so “why not get rid of costly prejudices that hold you back?” He listed the “Six Most Common Types of Prejudice.” Eliminating prejudice number six—“Prejudice against unconventional people and non-conformists”—meant the most to him. Byrne’s sons didn’t find out that Marston was their father until 1963—when Holloway finally admitted it—and only after she extracted a promise that no one would raise the subject ever again.

Gaines didn’t know any of this when he met Marston in 1940 or else he would never have hired him: He was looking to avoid controversy, not to court it. Marston and Wonder Woman were pivotal to the creation of what became DC Comics. (DC was short for Detective Comics, the comic book in which Batman debuted.) In 1940, Gaines decided to counter his critics by forming an editorial advisory board and appointing Marston to serve on it, and DC decided to stamp comic books in which Superman and Batman appeared with a logo, an assurance of quality, reading, “A DC Publication.” And, since “the comics’ worst offense was their blood-curdling masculinity,” Marston said, the best way to fend off critics would be to create a female superhero.

“Well, Doc,” Gaines said, “I picked Superman after every syndicate in America turned it down. I’ll take a chance on your Wonder Woman! But you’ll have to write the strip yourself.”

In February 1941, Marston submitted a draft of his first script, explaining the “under-meaning” of Wonder Woman’s Amazonian origins in ancient Greece, where men had kept women in chains, until they broke free and escaped. “The NEW WOMEN thus freed and strengthened by supporting themselves (on Paradise Island) developed enormous physical and mental power.” His comic, he said, was meant to chronicle “a great movement now under way—the growth in the power of women.”

Wonder Woman made her debut in All-Star Comics at the end of 1941 and on the cover of a new comic book, Sensation Comics, at the beginning of 1942, drawn by an artist named Harry G. Peter. She wore a golden tiara, a red bustier, blue underpants and knee-high, red leather boots. She was a little slinky; she was very kinky. She’d left Paradise to fight fascism with feminism, in “America, the last citadel of democracy, and of equal rights for women!”

It seemed to Gaines like so much good, clean, superpatriotic fun. But in March 1942, the National Organization for Decent Literature put Sensation Comics on its blacklist of “Publications Disapproved for Youth” for one reason: “Wonder Woman is not sufficiently dressed.”

Gaines decided he needed another expert. He turned to Lauretta Bender, an associate professor of psychiatry at New York University’s medical school and a senior psychiatrist at Bellevue Hospital, where she was director of the children’s ward, an expert on aggression. She’d long been interested in comics but her interest had grown in 1940, after her husband, Paul Schilder, was killed by a car while walking home from visiting Bender and their 8-day-old daughter in the hospital. Bender, left with three children under the age of 3, soon became painfully interested in studying how children cope with trauma. In 1940, she conducted a study with Reginald Lourie, a medical resident under her supervision, investigating the effect of comics on four children brought to Bellevue Hospital for behavioral problems. Tessie, 12, had witnessed her father, a convicted murderer, kill himself. She insisted on calling herself Shiera, after a comic-book girl who is always rescued at the last minute by the Flash. Kenneth, 11, had been raped. He was frantic unless medicated or “wearing a Superman cape.” He felt safe in it—he could fly away if he wanted to—and “he felt that the cape protected him from an assault.” Bender and Lourie concluded the comic books were “the folklore of this age,” and worked, culturally, the same way fables and fairy tales did.

That hardly ended the controversy. In February 1943, Josette Frank, an expert on children’s literature, a leader of the Child Study Association and a member of Gaines’ advisory board, sent Gaines a letter, telling him that while she’d never been a fan of Wonder Woman, she felt she now had to speak out about its “sadistic bits showing women chained, tortured, etc.” She had a point. In episode after episode, Wonder Woman is chained, bound, gagged, lassoed, tied, fettered and manacled. “Great girdle of Aphrodite!” she cries at one point. “Am I tired of being tied up!”

The story behind the writing and editing of Wonder Woman can be pieced together from Bender’s papers, at Brooklyn College; Frank’s papers, at the University of Minnesota; and Marston’s editorial correspondence, along with a set of original scripts, housed at the Dibner Library at the Smithsonian Institution Libraries. In his original scripts, Marston described scenes of bondage in careful, intimate detail with utmost precision. For a story about Mars, the God of War, Marston gave Peter elaborate instructions for the panel in which Wonder Woman is taken prisoner:

“Closeup, full length figure of WW. Do some careful chaining here—Mars’s men are experts! Put a metal collar on WW with a chain running off from the panel, as though she were chained in the line of prisoners. Have her hands clasped together at her breast with double bands on her wrists, her Amazon bracelets and another set. Between these runs a short chain, about the length of a handcuff chain—this is what compels her to clasp her hands together. Then put another, heavier, larger chain between her wrist bands which hangs in a long loop to just above her knees. At her ankles show a pair of arms and hands, coming from out of the panel, clasping about her ankles. This whole panel will lose its point and spoil the story unless these chains are drawn exactly as described here.”

Later in the story, Wonder Woman is locked in a cell. Straining to overhear a conversation in the next room, through the amplification of “bone conduction,” she takes her chain in her teeth: “Closeup of WW’s head shoulders. She holds her neck chain between her teeth. The chain runs taut between her teeth and the wall, where it is locked to a steel ring bolt.”

Gaines forwarded Frank’s letter of complaint to Marston. Marston shrugged it off. But then Dorothy Roubicek, who helped edit Wonder Woman—the first woman editor at DC Comics—objected to Wonder Woman’s torture, too.

“Of course I wouldn’t expect Miss Roubicek to understand all this,” Marston wrote Gaines. “After all I have devoted my entire life to working out psychological principles. Miss R. has been in comics only 6 months or so, hasn’t she? And never in psychology.” But “the secret of woman’s allure,” he told Gaines, is that “women enjoy submission—being bound.”

Marston wrote Gaines right back.

“I have the good Sergeant’s letter in which he expresses his enthusiasm over chains for women—so what?” As a practicing clinical psychologist, he said, he was unimpressed. “Some day I’ll make you a list of all the items about women that different people have been known to get passionate over—women’s hair, boots, belts, silk worn by women, gloves, stockings, garters, panties, bare backs,” he promised. “You can’t have a real woman character in any form of fiction without touching off a great many readers’ erotic fancies. Which is swell, I say.”

Marston was sure he knew what line not to cross. Harmless erotic fantasies are terrific, he said. “It’s the lousy ones you have to look out for—the harmful, destructive, morbid erotic fixations—real sadism, killing, blood-letting, torturing where the pleasure is in the victim’s actual pain, etc. Those are 100 per cent bad and I won’t have any part of them.” He added, in closing, “Please thank Miss Roubicek for the list of menaces.”

In 1944, Gaines and Marston signed an agreement for Wonder Woman to become a newspaper strip, syndicated by King Features. Busy with the newspaper strip, Marston hired an 18-year-old student, Joye Hummel, to help him write comic-book scripts. Joye Hummel, now Joye Kelly, turned 90 this April; in June, she donated her collection of never-before-seen scripts and comic books to the Smithsonian Libraries. Hiring her helped with Marston’s editorial problem, too. Her stories were more innocent than his. She’d type them and bring them to Sheldon Mayer, Marston’s editor at DC, she told me, and “He always OK’d mine faster because I didn’t make mine as sexy.” To celebrate syndication, Gaines had his artists draw a panel in which Superman and Batman, rising out of the front page of a daily newspaper, call out to Wonder Woman, who’s leaping onto the page, “Welcome, Wonder Woman!”

Gaines had another kind of welcome to make, too. He asked Lauretta Bender to take Frank’s place on the editorial advisory board.

In an ad King Features ran to persuade newspapers to purchase the strip, pointing out that Wonder Woman already had “ten million loyal fans,” her name is written in rope.

Hidden behind this controversy is one reason for all those chains and ropes, which has to do with the history of the fight for women’s rights. Because Marston kept his true relationship with Olive Byrne a secret, he kept his family’s ties to Margaret Sanger a secret, too. Marston, Byrne and Holloway, and even Harry G. Peter, the artist who drew Wonder Woman, had all been powerfully influenced by the suffrage, feminism and birth control movements. And each of those movements had used chains as a centerpiece of its iconography.

In 1911, when Marston was a freshman at Harvard, the British suffragist Emmeline Pankhurst, who’d chained herself to the gates outside 10 Downing Street, came to speak on campus. When Sanger faced charges of obscenity for explaining birth control in a magazine she founded called the Woman Rebel, a petition sent to President Woodrow Wilson on her behalf read, “While men stand proudly and face the sun, boasting that they have quenched the wickedness of slavery, what chains of slavery are, have been or ever could be so intimate a horror as the shackles on every limb—on every thought—on the very soul of an unwilling pregnant woman?” American suffragists threatened to chain themselves to the gates outside the White House. In 1916, in Chicago, women representing the states where women had still not gained the right to vote marched in chains.

In the 1910s, Peter was a staff artist at the magazine Judge, where he contributed to its suffrage page called “The Modern Woman,” which ran from 1912 to 1917. More regularly, the art on that page was drawn by another staff artist, a woman named Lou Rogers. Rogers’ suffrage and feminist cartoons very often featured an allegorical woman chained or roped, breaking her bonds. Sanger hired Rogers as art director for the Birth Control Review, a magazine she started in 1917. In 1920, in a book called Woman and the New Race, Sanger argued that woman “had chained herself to her place in society and the family through the maternal functions of her nature, and only chains thus strong could have bound her to her lot as a brood animal.” In 1923, an illustration commissioned by Rogers for the cover of Birth Control Review pictured a weakened and desperate woman, fallen to her knees and chained at the ankle to a ball that reads, “UNWANTED BABIES.” A chained woman inspired the title of Sanger’s 1928 book, Motherhood in Bondage, a compilation of some of the thousands of letters she had received from women begging her for information about birth control; she described the letters as “the confessions of enslaved mothers.”
When Marston created Wonder Woman, in 1941, he drew on Sanger’s legacy and inspiration. But he was also determined to keep the influence of Sanger on Wonder Woman a secret.

He took that secret to his grave when he died in 1947. Most superheroes didn’t survive peacetime and those that did were changed forever in 1954, when a psychiatrist named Fredric Wertham published a book called Seduction of the Innocent and testified before a Senate subcommittee investigating the comics. Wertham believed that comics were corrupting American kids, and turning them into juvenile delinquents. He especially disliked Wonder Woman. Bender had written that Wonder Woman comics display “a strikingly advanced concept of femininity and masculinity” and that “women in these stories are placed on an equal footing with men and indulge in the same type of activities.” Wertham found the feminism in Wonder Woman repulsive.

“As to the ‘advanced femininity,’ what are the activities in comic books which women ‘indulge in on an equal footing with men’? They do not work. They are not homemakers. They do not bring up a family. Mother-love is entirely absent. Even when Wonder Woman adopts a girl there are Lesbian overtones,” he said. At the Senate hearings, Bender testified, too. If anything in American popular culture was bad for girls, she said, it wasn’t Wonder Woman; it was Walt Disney. “The mothers are always killed or sent to the insane asylums in Walt Disney movies,” she said. This argument fell on deaf ears.

Wertham’s papers, housed at the Library of Congress, were only opened to researchers in 2010. They suggest that Wertham’s antipathy toward Bender had less to do with the content of the comics than with professional rivalry. (Paul Schilder, Bender’s late husband, had been Wertham’s boss for many years.) Wertham’s papers contain a scrap on which he compiled a list he titled “Paid Experts of the Comic Book Industry Posing as Independent Scholars.” First on the list as the comic book industry’s number one lackey was Bender, about whom Wertham wrote: “Boasted privately of bringing up her 3 children on money from crime comic books.”

In the wake of the 1954 hearings, DC Comics removed Bender from its editorial advisory board, and the Comics Magazine Association of America adopted a new code. Under its terms, comic books could contain nothing cruel: “All scenes of horror, excessive bloodshed, gory or gruesome crimes, depravity, lust, sadism, masochism shall not be permitted.” There could be nothing kinky: “Illicit sex relations are neither to be hinted at nor portrayed. Violent love scenes as well as sexual abnormalities are unacceptable.” And there could be nothing unconventional: “The treatment of love-romance stories shall emphasize the value of the home and the sanctity of marriage.”

“Anniversary, which we forgot entirely,” Olive Byrne wrote in her secret diary in 1936. (The diary remains in family hands.) During the years when she lived with Marston and Holloway, she wore, instead of a wedding ring, a pair of bracelets. Wonder Woman wears those same cuffs. Byrne died in 1990, at the age of 86. She and Holloway had been living together in an apartment in Tampa. While Byrne was in the hospital, dying, Holloway fell and broke her hip; she was admitted to the same hospital. They were in separate rooms. They’d lived together for 64 years. When Holloway, in her hospital bed, was told that Byrne had died, she sang a poem by Tennyson: “Sunset and the evening star, / And one clear call for me! / And may there be no moaning of the bar, / When I put out to sea.” No newspaper ran an obituary.

Elizabeth Holloway Marston died in 1993. An obituary ran in the New York Times. It was headed, “Elizabeth H. Marston, Inspiration for Wonder Woman, 100.” This was, at best, a half-truth.

So, seriously educated and influential people involved, the writer credited with being pivotal in the invention of the lie detector and if you’ve seen the first two seasons of the most famous serialized tv adaptation with Lynda Carter (from Phoenix [winged fireball], Arizona) – it’s almost all war propaganda. Like with almost all Mother Goddess story based media I’ve seen there is an expectation there, a right to have ownership of the Divine Mother/Daughter/Dark Mother, to have her seeming consent and validation whilst treating her/them like crap yet still want her/them to rescue, forgive, even love unconditionally and let them continue as if nothing happened/changed. In Wonder Woman – Diana is a founding member of the Justice League, she stands up for the Allies and is the connection between the human world and Paradise. If you’ve known masons, you might have noted the obsession with doors; opening doors for people and generally being chivalrous and courteous is part of my nature but in one particularly masonic town Mum and I have noticed people rushing to go through doors/fences etc at the same time as us e.g. if they’re in front they will slowly go to the door, look back at us continually and if we stop they stop, if they make it first they wait until we get there for us to open the ‘portal’/’link’, if we overtake them they’ll speed up to catch up and even push themselves through with us. Or a shop/place of business can be empty and then suddenly people will hurry to go through at the same time. Symbolism and the appearance of ‘permission’ and ‘partnership’ is very important to these people. We don’t open doors for anybody anymore but it’s hard to go through by ourselves, ironically the front door to our residence there became very hard to open/close after we moved in, the opposite to another place we lived where the front door was fine when we went to see the place before moving in (being renovated) but when we moved in it had become too easy to open/close (being an expensive security door the people weren’t willing to change it [again] after we noted it) but we didn’t live alone there so access may have been made easier for those who wanted to be in the same place.

It’s silly and might as well be superstition, wishes of the desperate, but that’s ritual for you and we’ve come across numerous rites of passage. These are people who want to be seen talking to us, seen/living nearby, or when part of our conversation is repeated by people standing 20ft further down the road when we walk past them, shops that are empty that fill up when we go in them and I’ve had shop owners say to me “you’re my lucky charm”, “you bring in business”, people who walk past seemingly just to cough or laugh right at us. Then there’s the cars; there’s been times when I was walking in car parks or as proper on the side of country roads and suddenly turned around to almost have a car bump into me and then decide to use the rest of the road, once a driver laughed, another time a van almost drove into Mum’s arm, other people follow you in their cars like one occasion where a woman stopped her car to ask us what we were doing (we’d stopped to take a break, and when she stopped another car coming from the opposite direction stopped to watch) then invited us to have tea at her place, described where it was (same place we were staying), winked and drove there. We didn’t go, the next time she was with her partner and children and they stopped us on that same road to ask what we were doing and what religion we were (we’re not religious) and this time asked if we wanted a lift. We declined, they still wanted to know if believed in any god, I was declining and politely trying to stop the conversation but Mum said the Goddess Kali and then they got really questioning, wouldn’t leave us alone, stopped traffic three times to crawl along at our pace, stopped and parked twice further down the road to stop us and ask about Kali and why we wouldn’t tell them anything about her, why were were being so ‘nasty’ to them, how there is only Christianity and their God yet they were ones wanting to follow us not the other way round – we’d said to look online and leave us alone because they were harassing us down the 1.5 mile road. Then there’s the vehicles that don’t go anywhere, they drive past on the road, turn around and come back and as they pass stare at us; at another place there was one van that always came and went when we did, it didn’t matter what time of the day/night, one time we came back really late 4am-ish and it still hurtled past. Another place we went camping, no space for vehicles where we camped but as soon as we left the next morning and got to the road all the drivers parked there started up and left too. Thankfully the idiots dressed in Black (yes it sounds ridiculous, and it is) aren’t as obvious anymore, one occasion two particular dummies actually zigged zagged after us in a field – when we went one direction they did, changed direction so did they, stopped to look at the ducks, they did too, started to go, so did they – and then I looked to the road on the side and lo and behold there’s another guy, this one with sunglasses on a cloudy day, keeping pace with us on the other side of the bushes and looked away as soon as I saw him. Another time we were returning to a place after visiting the beach and on the way back a MiB (ack that is such an embarrassing term) was staring at us from an alley whilst on his phone and as we passed we heard him say “they’re on their way back”, that was after another one of them was sitting behind Mum on the beach throwing pebbles next to her.

Speaking of US American Patriotism

From 1982 the World Wrestling Federation started using the Wonder Woman logo as their base.

Wonder Woman Nibiru Symbol Symbolism

Wonder Woman – very Nibiru looking

Wonder Woman Nibiru Symbol Symbolism

New version

Arizona state flag

Arizona state flag, the best one (along with the combined US one) suited to Wonder Woman’s costume. Lynda Carter is from Arizona.

US state flags

heersander.deviantart.com

Obviously the world of professional sports entertainment and in particular wrestling is full of ‘characters’; a soap opera with stuntpersonship but also a heck of a lot of rivalry and feuds, the backstage comes into the ‘squared circle/ring’ at times. It sometimes seems like the gods, monsters, demons, demi-gods, spirits etc live on in comic books and manga related media but the heroes and villains are the stars, superstars, faces, and heels in wrestling too – especially since it’s so pantomime. Elaborate characters, costume, names/moves, themes – all very gladiatorial amphitheater entertainment as if Romans were still around. I used to watch a lot of it myself when I was much younger. In regards to the logo it symbolically implies they have the blessing of the goddess, no they didn’t and they don’t, and I’m glad the World Wildlife Fund took exception to them as well (for sharing the same acronym and breaking a trade agreement) forcing the World Wrestling Federation to change their name in 2001. Nature beats wannabes any day 😛 (Though I’m not keen on some of the key people behind the now called World Wide Fund for Nature, same goes for any company/corporation/financial institution/major charity, when I say ‘Nature’ I mean actual Nature, not the orchestrators.) The WWE, ECW and TNA even used an Indian man who calls himself ‘The Great Khali’ (initially along with his ‘manager’ and partner ‘Tiger Raj Singh’). You’re dreaming, posers.

Just as names are important for people, names and logos are important for companies, especially big companies from Starbucks using the Abraxas two ‘legged’ serpent god icon as is but to a modern person it looks like a mermaid but it goes with their name – star worshipers wanting your resources – to Apple (knowledge) and Windows (portals) and both those logos are split into colours/levels.

Gallery

Call of the Wild

Mum has a vivid memory of her early childhood and I love hearing about her adventures. Her early days were spent in India and they sounded happy. Apparently she was a podgy little dumpling and abit of a ‘boss’ since local scallywags, kids that is, used to like following her around. They weren’t street urchins but might as well have been as she sounded abit like Dennis the Menace to me. Despite her tail of both kids and animals (including one Golden Retriever who used to unfortunately get sent to keep watch on her) she preferred to go out and about by herself, as far and as fast her little fat legs could carry her (her description not mine).

One of her favourite haunts was a grove of Banyan trees, a habit of hers that upset everybody. You see those trees, type of fig tree (very important symbolically and colloquially called the ‘strangler fig’), are legendary and mysterious in India and to Buddhists:

banyan tree

They represent immortality, in Sanskrit the banyan are called ‘bahupuda’ i.e. ‘one with many feet’ and it those feet/external roots that put a lot of people off, they’re creepy looking but respected the roots are cylical in nature – they’re roots yet also grow from the branches and support the whole structure, so seem to go on and on in support and renewal. In India the banyan is considered symbolically ‘male’ and the Peepal tree (the ‘sacred fig’) ‘female’ so they tend to be grown together if intentionally planted yet the banyan is also known as the Raja ‘King’ tree; RajaRajeshwari ‘King of Kings’ is actually feminine so in modern terms would be ‘Queen of Queens’ but still the ultimate and that goes with them also being known as the Bodhi trees i.e tree of knowledge, and knowledge and wisdom are also feminine terms and often represented/bestowed by goddess characters (Buddha & the rest of the original Buddhist pantheon were Hindu goddesses, the Indian prince who became known as Budda is not the Buddha, but a Budda in the sense of an enlightened person, or saint like Kristna who is claimed to be an avatar of a major current god but Krist-Christ is a title, not a name and interestingly enough the ‘second coming’ supposedly of Kalki is still called an avatar of Vishnu yet the name Kalki is from Kali and so is ultimately feminine (‘divine feminine’ used interchangeably with the androgyn but the latter are usually the helpers/workers of the  feminine), the destructive force to Lalita’s creative. The current pantheon are an invasive lot who likely deified themselves after the conquering of egalitarian India in approx 1500BC needing to incorporate what was already there when they became one of the cradles of modern civilization, after Mesopotamia and Egypt. The sanskrit name for the peepal tree is ‘ashvattha’ tree of life. Both trees are beautiful and Mum used to stay there for ages by herself often worrying the adults who would wonder where she was. But was she alone? Those trees are taboo also because it is said they make good homes for many spirits including some multi-species looking, and some musicians. Whilst taboo they are sacred, you mustn’t cut down homes just because you can’t see the residents, it seems worse to destroy the homes of the unseen because they can hurt you in unknown ways whereas you know regular seen wildlife and other animals have no defense/comeuppance. Mum felt at home there, moreso than anywhere else. Other people have decided that sitting underneath those trees is good for governing and gathering meetings, in addition to holy rituals. The spiritual significance of these trees is hard to explain, they represent the form of god in tree form and enlightenment. Mum was a bit like Tarzan with the vines, her place of innocent play despite the superstition that people tell others not to go there because of ghosts/dead people and demons. In terms of going back through time it seems that trees in general were revered and worshiped before the current set of gods/divinities, peepul was the first depicted tree in India found in the Indus Valley on a seal.

This author, Linda Johnsen, explains it well:

https://yogainternational.com/article/view/the-yogic-tree-of-life

Most people are used to seeing trees that grow from the ground up, but yogis talk about a tree that grows upside down. “There is an eternal tree called the Ashvattha, which has its roots above and its branches below,” says the Katha Upanishad, a yogic text which unveils the secrets of death. The yoga masters, the shamans of Siberia, the Persian priests, the ancient Celts, and even the Vikings knew this tree well.

Growing up in Norway I heard about this amazing tree, which my grandparents called Yggdrasil, that grew down from the sky. Gods like Odin and Thor lived on one branch; we lived on another. Over in Britain wise men and women of olden times actually called themselves Druids, “knowers of the tree.” But it wasn’t till I started studying yoga that I learned what this inverted tree really is.

The oldest reference to the Ashvattha I can find appears in the Rig Veda, a text composed in India over 5,000 years ago: “What is that tree, what kind of wood is it made from, from which the Earth and Heaven are fashioned?” India’s ancient sages literally placed the tree in the sky. Go out at night and look up at Scorpio, near where the ecliptic (the path of the sun and planets) crosses the Milky Way. There you’ll find a small constellation in the tail of the celestial scorpion which the yogis call Mula, “the root.” This is the root in heaven out of which the World Tree grows. It happens to also mark the Galactic Center, a rather surprising coincidence if you believe in coincidences!

If you follow the spray of stars backward through the zodiac you’ll see the Ashvattha’s trunk growing through Scorpio, its limbs branching out in Libra (the Indian constellation Vishakha here means “forked branches”), and fruit growing on its branches in Leo and Virgo (the Indian constellation here called Phalguni means “fruit of the tree”). The ancient sages placed a young woman here named Kanya (our Virgo). With one hand (our constellation Corvus is called Hasta, “hand,” in India) she’s reaching for the fruit. And there entwined in the tree next to her is a long snake we call the constellation Hydra, which the ancient Indians called Ashlesha, “king of the serpents.” According to Indian legend, no one is allowed to eat the fruit of this tree except the yogis—only they can handle its awesome power.

Now here’s a surprise. The ancient Indo-Iranians claimed there isn’t just one tree in the sky: there are two. One tree has golden fruit, the other silver. Do these remind you of the biblical Tree of Knowledge and Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden, from which the snake tempted Eve to eat? We know from drawings on clay tablets discovered in Mohenjo-Daro (an archeological site in Pakistan) that the Ashvattha tree was revered in India more than a thousand years before the oldest parts of the Bible were composed. The ancient Assyrians have also left us images of the goddess Ishtar (Virgo) standing on a lion (Leo) beside the World Tree. Myths about these constellations were probably the original source of the biblical story of Adam and Eve. Eve reaches for the yellow fruit of the tree that lies along the ecliptic. In India the ecliptic, marked by twelve signs of the zodiac called the Adityas in yogic literature, represents samsara, the wheel of death and rebirth on which Adam and Eve become caught when they eat of the fruit.

In the yoga tradition we learn to stop grasping after the fruits of our actions, which only creates more entangling karma.

In the Norse myths I grew up with there are three gardeners who look after the tree. The first is an elderly woman named Urd who knows the past, the second a young woman named Verdandi who knows the present, and the last a little girl named Skuld who knows the future. These three figures were known in India too. There Skuld is called Rohini, an innocent young girl associated with the star Aldebaran in Taurus. Verdandi, the young woman, is called Chitra in India, though she’s known to Western astronomers as the star Spica in Virgo. Urd, the terrifying old woman whom the Vikings believed controls our destiny, is Antares in Scorpio, a brilliant red star the Indians call Jyeshtha. These three stars, positioned nearly equal distances from each other, are traditional markers for three of the four quarters of the sky.

In the most important of all ancient Indian rituals, the Horse Sacrifice, three women representing these very stars lay their hands on the horse at the climax of the rite. The connection with the horse ritual is especially interesting because Ashvattha, the yogis’ name for the World Tree, actually means “where the horse is stationed.” The horse in the sky is of course the constellation Pegasus, called Dadhikras in Sanskrit, that marks the fourth quarter of the sky. Pegasus eternally gallops around the North Celestial Pole. The Pole is the one point in the northern sky that never moves. Everything else in heaven revolves around it. It represents the Spirit, which lies outside time and change. From a point of complete stillness, our inner Spirit observes everything going on around us, just like a motionless axle in a spinning wheel.

The North Celestial Pole is the second tree, standing at a right angle to the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil which circles the ecliptic. The silver fruit of this northern tree is the source of soma, the famous yogic nectar of immortality. This is the Tree of Life, of which Adam and Eve were forbidden to eat. The Katha Upanishad hints at this plainly enough: “There is an eternal tree called the Ashvattha, which has its roots above and its branches below. Its luminous root is called Brahman, the Supreme Reality, and it alone is beyond death. Everything that exists is rooted in that point. There is nothing else beyond it.” The Upanishad encourages us to find the still point—the luminous root of the Ashvattha tree—in ourselves. But how exactly do we do that?

In yoga, the horse symbolizes prana, the breath of life. The breath is yoked to our mind the way Pegasus is yoked to the North Star. In most of us the breath cycles around and around, like Pegasus endlessly circling the sky. But yogis know how to slow and finally stop the breath, merging their awareness in the unmoving center of their being. This is the state of samadhi, the deepest level of meditation.

In deep meditation you can begin to climb the tree. The Ashvattha inside you is your spine. We call the muladhara chakra at the bottom of the spine the root chakra, but the mystical root is actually at the top of your head in the sahasrara chakra, the center where divine consciousness resides. It is awakened when we stop reaching for the fruit outside ourselves and turn our attention within. Then the serpent of kundalini, the power of consciousness, begins to move up subtle circuits, corresponding to the spine, toward the top of the head. Legends about the World Tree from India to Scandinavia agree there’s an eagle near the top of the tree that the snake is trying to reach. The eagle is the ajña chakra, the center of consciousness behind the midpoint of the eyebrows. When the snake passes the eagle and reaches the very top of the tree of our psychic nervous system, enlightenment can occur.

In the Bhagavad Gita Krishna, the greatest of yogis, says that of all trees, divine awareness is most fully present in the Ashvattha. Another sacred text, the Bhagavata Purana, relates that at the time of his death Krishna withdrew his awareness into his inner being and contemplated the Ashvattha tree. We will have achieved something extraordinary in our yoga practice if as we die we also turn our full attention to the heavenly root of the Asvattha inside us.

By the way, there really is an Ashvattha tree. Botanists call it Ficus religiosa; in India today it’s called the Bodhi tree. Sitting under it, Buddha became enlightened. It’s a type of banyan which first grows up from the ground, but then sends more roots downward from its branches. When these aerial shoots reach the earth they re-root themselves and form a new tree. In this way one Ashvattha can become an entire forest of Ashvattha trees. If you then ask yourself, “Which is the original tree?” you’ll realize that, in a sense, every tree in the forest actually is the first tree. Though it looks like there are many trees, there is really just one. The ancient yogis chose the Ashvattha to symbolize their world because it perfectly represents that, although everything in the universe appears to be separate, in reality all things share the same eternal source.

Near the banyan trees, there was a pond or a lake where people would say that at certain times silver plates would rise. Everybody wanted this legend. Mum however wanted the singara (Indian water chestnuts) and her youngest uncle used to go and get them and come out covered in leeches (quickly removed with salt). He would carry her around when her legs got tired too.

There was also a Neem tree where she lived, right next to the temple in the house complex – both neem and pipal (peepal/ul) trees are medicinal and sacred, the neem is a tree of Kali. Next to the neem was a goya (not bitter gourd, it was a type of pear or peach), a banana tree, mango, litchi, boroi (plum) strangely enough there was no coconut, apple or dates all of which are very common for households.

The strange thing is Mum has never been into fruit, she likes looking at them and likes to eat vegetables (which they also had in abundance) but she preferred something else… Nectar, mead, ambrosia aka honey (and the sugar cane the grew in the courtyard)! Since she wasn’t afraid of animals she climbed the trees, stuck her hand straight into the hives and ate whatever came out, seriously. Thankfully I’ve converted her to veganism (and having various animal companions put her off eating animals since they obviously have personalities, intelligence and feelings) and she taught me botany/foraging, but back then the honey and the bees were all one thing, she probably would have eaten the hives given half the chance. She said they were crunchy. o_o

I used to say I’d like to spend most of my time under a tree or living in a tree-house but then I realized apart from all the noisy neighbours and them dropping all and sundry on me like Victorians did through the upstairs windows over passerby’s, I’m not particularly fond of the idea of the tree dropping things on me either like coconuts and most definitely not jackfruit and I don’t want to be the trampoline for the people (other animals that is, they are also people to me) themselves. People tend to avoid trees with snake peoples in them for example but not Mum, no the snakes avoided her. Her fat little fingers were thankfully of the simply curious kind rather than casually cruel kind you get in a lot of kids towards other animals (and towards other human children), she’d just pick up any creature and look at it – oh they have my sympathy. Frozen in the headlights might be a good way to put it. She’d then put them back down again after figuring out how and why they looked the way they did to a satisfactory level enough for mutual species understanding, none of that dissecting and needing to know exactly why a certain fly beats its wings that many times, facts that necessitate masses of corpses to discover. After getting out of the way of those beams of pure focus I imagine said animals counted their blessings and spread the word to ‘avoid that little girl, she’ll stick her chubby hands anywhere to catch you and make you feel massively uncomfortable before letting you go under the threat of possibly doing it again’.

Then there were the ‘joongli’ people (jungle, though apparently they weren’t jungle people just dark skinned/Black, not ethnically Black) who had their grievances and were the figurative Mr Wilson to Mum’s Dennis the Menace & gang. She said they had the best gardens; very well tended and impressive i.e. the perfect temptation to those who want a piece of it…

*Sigh*

Then there was a little island in the middle of a river, Mum’s island, a patch that only Mum used to visit so the ‘family’ said they gave it to her and no one else was allowed to go there. An island of succulent, delicious ground growing fruit/veg like pumpkins, melons, marrows etc and Mum used to go and check regularly that no one had taken anything. It was dangerous to get to (and like with the banyan area with loads of snakes and other critters, snakes in the patch they gave her and in the water), you had to swim across to get there and back, and Mum was an excellent swimmer; even the whirlpool that almost got her once thought better of it.

In the toilet area (hole in the ground) bunches of snakes would fall down too, people were scared to go! But snakes are everywhere, what can you do. Just leave ’em alone and don’t provoke ’em. But nothing came near Mum on her excursions, she never got bitten. (She would of grabbed hold of them had they tried.)

Mum’s bedroom had pomegranates (life/death – night/day – Summer/Winter) above the roof and snakes fell down onto it. She once woke up with a cobra on her bed (probably from the ground) it didn’t seem to do anything and left after a while. Mum wasn’t bothered, as long as it doesn’t bother her she didn’t care, and don’t bother her when she’s sleeping, the snake knew who was the alpha there. Cobras are religious symbols, particularly the insignia on their heads. Later on (when Mum was brought to the UK) she was told there was many pots of gold underneath her bedroom – some sort of prophecy that she doesn’t remember. Put it this way, unlike Princess Kaguya’s (Japanese moon princess) gold & items taken by her parents and used as they saw/they were told to use becoming rich rather than asking her, Mum’s ‘family’ haven’t got their hands on it yet.

If you’ve ever read/seen the cartoon ‘The Moomins’ the character ‘Little My’ [Lilla My the indestructible] reminds me of Mum, and perhaps Lina Inverse from ‘Slayers’…

Anyway I digress; there were actually in existence a couple of things that worried her, it’s true. One was a skeleton kept in the school playground, not a plastic anatomical one for Biology, a real one and for no obvious reason. Just hanging there, swaying in the wind… Despite the adults and children mostly already being desensitized to seeing people getting the bloody crap beaten out of them by corrupt police (a common thing there) and with children getting beaten as part of normal discipline that skeleton still had an effect. I quite like skeletons personally, always have, it’s the ideal way looking at each other naked and not thinking anything mean or leery. Skeletons don’t bother me, all the organs/muscles/bodily fluids ‘messy bits’ etc are gross and babies of all fauna are weird, offputting aliens when they’re born. 😛 Mum used to be of the opposite opinion, she didn’t mind the innards and sacking, but now she’s ok with bones too. Needless to say she was very literate, fluent in reading/writing & the benefit of home tutors (I advocate home schooling, if it wasn’t for Mum I’d have learned crap all in schools).

The one ‘thing’ that really scared her though was a guardian; a mighty, overlooking, menacing protector of the place – a huge statue of Kali that stood as defender. It stood on the riverbank and you had to pass it to get to town and it was a frightful experience for her every time, she used to run past it as fast as she could lest she wet herself. Well it did its job… But perhaps to the wrong person. Or maybe not, look at the roots Mum & I have uncovered over the years. A true guardian is supposed to be fierce but they are ultimately caring. They can’t be the sweet & cuddly kind all the time (like we find in modern culture) if they’re going to fight monsters who act monstrous rather than just look it. Mum couldn’t avoid the statue because on the other side was a wall of cacti. On one side of the statue was a nepthal (not sure of spelling/English colloquial name) tree and the other a Kadamba tree (again massive significance) and the kadamba flowers made good weapons, so I’m told.

kadamba flower

Tennis balls

Interestingly enough despite being Bengali Hindu in new India and goddesses being the favourite (ironic the devotion to goddesses contrasted with the treatment of women) of those people, particularly Kali and Durga (Durga being a later, added name plus her own groupies over the Lalita/Kali/Bala three from one), Mum doesn’t remember anyone there ever using the name ‘Kali’, even though they did the rituals (the tongue sounds for example e.g. one sound Xena: Warrior Princess made famous) they used other names for her. The thing is the Great Destroyer scares everybody, even those that pray to her, she is the epitomy of the ancient crone; the wisest, oldest, darkest. People tend to prefer to pray to the nicer seeming ones who bestow fortune, wealth, prosperity, success, good luck etc people pray to Kali out of obligation and to ward off or protect from extreme danger. The fact that she is the only surviving root divinity in current Hinduism (and other likenesses seen worldwide as root figures, mostly covered over/metamorphosed now) is interesting – she’s stubborn, the Dark Mother lasts no matter what, no matter hard or painful and people always go back to her, something in them tells them that she is shelter.

There were many tornadoes where she lived, people’s houses were ruined and even blew away Dorothy & Oz style and fish fell from the sky but where she lived always stayed put so people came from all around for safety.

Once a buffalo died and she was so upset she made the ‘family’ carry it to the river to give it a proper funeral, they didn’t want to but she made them give it a proper send off.

In rural India if you’re wealthy you have a separate lagoon bathing area to the house, surrounded by lush plants like banana trees for privacy – the bathing area they had was surrounded by fields of Gold i.e. mustard (again with the significance).

Listening to all these memories one thing I ask myself was why was she living on the maternal side at all, it’s very strange for a girl to get married and not go to the man’s side but Mum’s female ‘parent’ stayed at home and instead of the dowry going to the husband it remained with the girl and all the inheritance when her dad died (even though she had three brothers and a late sister who’d been the first wife of the man she was then made to marry). Her family had moved to new India after Muslims took over the part of Bangladesh and had told the family that the daughters were beautiful. Mum’s male ‘parent’s side was also very wealthy and influential.

Sadly, early on her ‘parents’ brought her & the younger sister here and everything changed, especially for Mum who never knew joy again.

RajaRashwari tv show

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All this makes me wonder, I don’t have a very good memory of my early childhood except things like a broken arm, burnt hand, concussion, having an upset stomach that the doctors said necessitated the removal of the appendix but Mum said no and prayed over me all night and I was better in the morning with a healthy appetite (I wanted six potatoes from the dinner lady), falling on glass, accidentally swallowing paint, hair loss, babysitting my younger sister and going with an ex-neighbour to her new place in Greenwich every weekend until she stopped showing up after an occasion where her friends had come over and I remember them being rowdy and me slumping to the floor unconscious against something solid hearing their laughter. My earliest memory is one that really stands out to me, I was possibly in a car and it was dark outside, with lights going by so perhaps streetlights – that’s all I remember but for some reason I ‘know’ that I was 5 years old and going to see/or had just seen Cinderella and I knew the person driving. Cinderella wasn’t released or re-released that year but that person told me we’d seen it at the Elephant & Castle (cinema). Mum doesn’t remember it and I don’t remember her there, only one person and that person said we went as a family, but we didn’t.

Another strange thing, I have a young ‘aunt’ almost 3 years older than me and both of us had most of our teeth taken out apparently down to eating too much sugar 🙄

I often wonder would Mum have been better off in India, her early childhood sounded idyllic and much preferable to growing up here. Things would have probably changed when she ‘came of age’ over there (children are betrothed before puberty) rather than immediately changing as they did here. If she had been happy she wouldn’t have needed me but that’s ok, I’m not the kind of person that needs/wants bad things to happen to prove myself. I would have hoped she’d ended up like this:

Sheena, Queen of the Jungle

😀

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Deformed Babies in India

When Mum tells me about an ‘out of the ordinary’ physical birth defect the conversation tends to go like this:

“There’s a baby with 3 arms”
“Is it in India?”

“There’s a baby with 4 arms”
“Is it in India?”

“There’s a baby with one eye”
“Is it in India?”

“There’s a conjoined baby with too few/many limbs”
“Is it in India?”

“There’s a baby with a tail”
“Is it in India?”

“There’s a baby with a trunk”
“Is it in India?”

You get the picture.

And most recently:

“There was a baby with half a head”
“Was it in India?”

That makes me sound like I’m stereotyping, birth defects aren’t always in India but they often are.

This really worries me and what pisses me off is that it’s always initially at least blamed on the mother’s diet. It gives the picture of seriously ignorant people which is easily compounded with poverty and there’s a hell of a lot of poverty there, but not necessarily stupidity – not when it comes to diet and strength anyway. These are people (women) who get up at the crack of dawn to start cooking and many are almost cooking all day for large families, cooking from scratch – lot’s of vegetables and fresh food. These are people who when they’re old can easily do physical labour that younger people here in the West couldn’t. I realize that no matter how many vegetables a pregnant woman eats it’s still not considered enough folic acid but seriously, for those that do have enough food their diets are not as unhealthy, overly processed and lacking in nutrition as the Western diet (which is unfortunately fast spreading there and they’ve already suffered the effects of GM food in terms of lack of repeat harvests at least). Blaming it on the mother’s diet is another blow on top of what these women and their suffering infants (who generally die quickly after birth) go through – these aren’t people who don’t know what ultrasound scans are but apparently these ancient people don’t know how to have healthy babies even though they’ve already gone through the ‘survival of the fittest – evolution’ bit. They have doctors, a lot of doctors, being a doctor is one of the most prestigious things there, everybody wants their child to be a doctor (they still do over here too). The problem is so many doctors claim the babies are born that way and they didn’t know beforehand and then blame it on the mother. However, we’re not talking about village doctors working alone here, we’re talking about clinics and hospitals, and not ramshackle temporary/emergency ones either.

These are also not limited to hereditary or ethnic specific defects.

Sometimes it’s admitted afterwards that there was another cause such as the Bhopal Gas Leak:
http://www.academia.edu/7031704/Bhopal_gas_disaster_Corporate_negligence_with_deadly_consequences

At other times the claim of a changeling:
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/jaipur/Man-refuses-to-take-deformed-baby/articleshow/36788793.cms

This link (US National Library of Medicine) shows there are many other factors and yet the mother’s diet seems to be the most popular in articles I’ve read over the years:
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3758715/

Bear in mind the born birth defects like Downs Syndrome are also increasing in the West, as well as afterbirth effects like Flat Head Syndrome (though I’ve as yet to come across more literature about it happening in adults, and it does).

It also doesn’t help that these people have been conditioned (externally and by themselves – it’s very easy to brainwash people when they’re willing to do the work of enforcement for you) to ignore the magnitude of knowledge in their religion for the cult of celebrity parts i.e. praising or hating like sports fans the races of divinity and ‘demons’ rather than thinking about all those scriptures of their existence/antics. It’s also common for people to think babies born in a way that taxes their organs too much are godlike, even when they’re healthy the parents are too quick to name them after gods/victors and claim some reflected glory by association. But not everybody thinks it’s a blessing. China being the other country of most population, mass poverty, massive visible and not so easy to hide/dismiss pollution shares one of the attitudes that it’s a curse – and whilst those babies/children live they suffer even more because they’re not cared for.

There’s far too many cases of serious and fatal deformities there.

Anything can be turned into a profit of some kind, it doesn’t always have to be money but it’s not beneath some people to deform children afterbirth to use them for begging or mutilate them if they don’t beg. Akin to prostitution where a child/adult begs for help only to be grassed on by the of course uncaring ‘client’ who doesn’t care about the background of the rape victim as long as there is one at least is not a variety to choose from, if there wasn’t that’d be the problem. Those adults and children (and children who’ve grown into adults living their lives in that situation) are beaten regularly and even moreso if they talk. (Millions of people go missing each year in countries worldwide, not just the ‘third world’ ones, where do they go? And how are they linked to snuff porn?)

The anti-nuclear movement has been gaining more momentum since Japan had more nuclear catastrophe added to their history, but a particular movement in India near the Koodankulam Nuclear Power Plant. From general reading it seems there’s a shared observation that it’s staying power is due to women. Why? Birth defects is a major reason. From the following Friends of the Earth (no I didn’t just look at the obvious people against nuclear energy, when reading up on anything I tend to look at people who are against a movement/theory/issue before the people that support it) link I was reminded of the:

‘…deformed children of Jadugoda town, which hosts India’s 45-year-old uranium mine.’

It wasn’t only children though, people tend to focus on children as if they’re more important than adults or with ‘children are the future’ mindsets instead of focusing on the present, the people of the now and remembering lessons of the past before rushing to the future. Which is why I always say there are plenty of adults who’ve been suffering longer, plenty who started suffering as children too and who lose their ‘care by status’ [best before] dates when they get to certain ages. This post however is about birth defects so I’ve focused on the children but I’ll never stop being concerned about the people left behind, about the young adults and adults – and in this case about the parents, with focus on the mothers being blamed en mass if they survive that is, if they’re died because of pregnancy/childbirth we assume they don’t have to hear the **** poured on them.

Remember that company’s reaction to information about the sick and dying and born sick/dying?

Confronted with reports villages near Uranium Corp. of India Ltd.’s mines have unusually high numbers of physically deformed people, Chairman Diwakar Acharya said: “I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of those guys are imported from elsewhere, ok?”

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2014-07-23/india-s-uranium-boss-says-deformed-children-may-be-imported-

That brings to mind a film I saw recently dedicated to the people in the endosulfan pesticide spraying tragedy in Kerala:

Many people just don’t care and act like the victims are full of themselves/attention seekers, even those who haven’t been able to speak openly and finally do. Those who get bored of or conversely like the feeling they get from a ‘good story [about the pain of others]’ care when it happens to them/their loved ones though, of course.

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Poetry and Race Relations

So there’s a number of significant calendar dates scheduled today and the ones I’m going to focus on are World Poetry Day and International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination. Interestingly enough it’s also World Puppetry Day and Harmony Day (Australia) which can go together in a cynical way though Harmony day can more positively be seen akin with the two titles I’m looking at, but then so can World Puppetry Day in a negative way….

Respectful notice to the other dates World Down Syndrome Day and Youth Day in Tunisia (Youth Day is celebrated in different countries on different days). Whilst I’ve read a bit about these I’m no expert so won’t unfairly expound on the subjects but acknowledgement to those for whom these themes are significant, whether as a marker or a lifetime issue, and kudos to those trying to make good the situations.

On a sidenote it’s also Fragrance Day – hmm all I’ll say there is I prefer flora mixtures and oils rather than designer label and celebrity endorsed bottles with apparently delightful smelling concoctions and hundreds of unknown ingredients.

Ok so in regards to Poetry and Race Relations I guess I’ll start like many a Victorian novelist and by relating experiences of my London youth. I grew up in a time that I look at as a sort of racial ‘renaissance’ in general regarding issues and groups that the public hadn’t really acknowledged or tried to get to know previously. The 80’s were years with a sort of nod to the 60’s and 70’s in social enlightenment though without the holistic approach (which was abused and confused in those times meanings things like communal, energy efficient, clean living were degraded by the sex/drugs/free love ethos). In the 80’s we had AIDS awareness, then the road paving for LGB acceptance (transgender hadn’t really broken through yet), womens wages being significantly less than their male counterparts for the same jobs (approx -30% which has not changed much since for permanent positions), world poverty was coming to the forefront of the public consciousness, domestic trade union strikes (most notably the miner’s strike) and of course race relations. There were plenty of other issues fighting for the stage and others being hidden from the spotlight as always but those listed are the ones I remember as a child being the most widely talked about.

The part of London I lived in was borderline, mostly Caucasian but with other ethnicities throughout on one side and mostly Black on the other. I didn’t think much about it and got on with everybody I could regardless of what we looked like or what our parents/carers did. The area I lived in was subject to massive riots but was strangely ‘nice’ the rest of the time without much face-to-face racism but more institutionalized and hence rioting happened when things got to a head. So the people within may have not been racist but the underlying racial tension was there.

The overall makeup didn’t include as many Eastern Europeans as there are today as we hadn’t got that far with European relations, though the racial composition of Brits had already almost completely changed by previous invasions and inter-mixing. (Many still refer to Anglo-Saxons as some sort of English standard before closing the doors on who is allowed to be called English or even British but the Anglo-Sxons were not English and tookover from the Welsh as the dominant ethnicity/ies in Britain). I like many others came from third generation immigrant folk having at least one foreign born parent who were later naturalized here and then us/the second generation were born here. As then as it is today no matter how well we get along many people think still of “proper English” or “proper British” people as White people who were born here – though they’re a lot more accepting of us non-Whites since we all have the accents 😀 . (Yes they even confuse English and British so the racialism is between everyone as always but the in-house is different to the ‘you look different’ from us perspective still – and not unique to British or White people as I will explore again later.)

At the time and in the part of area I lived in non-White folk were mixed in pretty evenly amongst our White ‘human’ (heheh I won’t take it further with potential space alien breeds) family members, there weren’t segregated ethnic communities and we all lived in the same buildings, went to the same schools, shops etc. Racially things seemed not too bad for me in that other than a few flare ups between strangers or people I didn’t know giving off a general undercurrent of distrust or dislike towards me at times, no one I knew brought up colour or place of origin when they argued. It helped that my mother put extra effort into being educated and into educating me though that said I was a bit like Johnny 5 in my thirst for knowledge (I wish I could read that fast) and so minor things like that knowledge comes from where people are this colour or that colour didn’t occur to me. I also never bought into ridiculous things taught at school like Hitler hunting Jewish people because they had dark hair and eyes – seriously the way cirriculums twist, dumb down or omit altogether really makes me value home education even more. It was only when I was 12 years of age that I started to notice people/friends around me starting to take on more of what was expected from them ethnically such as going to after schools on days or weekends specifically to learn more of their language and culture and some segregating into new groups of friends which surprisingly and sadly looked less rainbow like so to speak (my best friend decided to dump me for those ethnically closer to her for example).

Up until then I’d noticed a kind of ‘fraternity’ between Indian and Chinese people, I say Indian and Chinese because out of the Asian people I knew they made up the majority, so not titling them just because they’re the the main sub-continental countries. Anyway at the time there was a mutual respect, acknowledgement, sympathy and empathy between us which I really liked. It was no surprise given the similarities and links in history, culture and religions. Though when I hit 12 that’s when I started noticing a delineation between our communities and the growing importance of noticing ‘one’s own’ i.e. separating South East and South Asians. I had previously known more Chinese people from that section of Asia but had been aware of the importance not to confuse Vietnamese and Chinese people for example – akin to though not the same as not confusing Caribbean and African people and of course since Africa is a continent not to confuse people from countries who would not appreciated being confused (and hence just ‘naturally’ learning physical and cultural characteristics of people from different areas of the world). But from that point in time the Chinese people I saw grew more chummy with their South East neighbours e.g. Vietnam and Japan (Koreans weren’t so noticeable in the overall community as far as I could tell at the time) and the Indians I knew were closer to other South and Western Asians though overall. “Indians” and “Muslims” as they were known back then (geographically, ethnically and culturally confusing I know) were also close to Black people (mostly African at the time) – part of which probably stems from the immigration and invasions into Africa akin to the neighbour-ship between Western Asians and Mediterraneans. I didn’t really know any “middle Indo-Chinese” country peoples back then e.g. from Malaysia or the Philippines. I had one good Thai friend but his family moved back and our long distance letters just stopped (I have not forgotten you though, I remember exactly what you looked like and how exactly to spell your name! If circumstances had been different I’d still have your letters – I kept them for as long as possible – I hope you and your mother are doing good and I thank her for the snacks 🙂 ).

Basically the closeness the Indian and Chinese dominated communities had was breaking apart and I couldn’t understand why at the time but my former close Eastern friends grew more exclusive and elitist towards me and those around them, and the other Asians and Black friends I had would tell me not to dwell on it, that they had their own group and to forget about it. But heck – that would mean giving up many of my friends! I didn’t have any choice in the end as even though our personalities were previously harmonious (to the extent possible for clever and bossy kids – which we were, nerds yet somehow not unpopular) my personality started getting on their nerves in addition or because of whatever it was they were being told/taught that I didn’t know about and their personalities were changing in ways that I didn’t know how to react to or understand. They just didn’t want to mix anymore leading me to being apologist for whatever it was about me that was offending them, trying to laugh it off and finally to being patted on the back by the aforementioned other Asian and Black friends and being told “they have each other, you have to be with us now“.

So why the growing ethnic/cultural indifference and/or dislike between us? Well I mentioned before the mutual admiration from having similar backgrounds, that conversely meant there had to be similar stereotypes as well and I started hearing more about bias and prejudice towards people of darker skin shades. It’s the same with many Asians – lighter skin is generally preferred, just look at Bollywood which mixes sexism with colour preference; all the women are pretty to gorgeous and tend to be lighter skinned and any darker skinned women have lesser roles. It doesn’t really apply to men in person or media, as from movies to pop videos men of all shades and sizes are popular as long as they can sing/dance/act, whereas in the same music videos for example none of the women will be overweight or average looking let alone dark skinned and of course those with Green or Blue eyes are special, with hazel being the easiest alternative. The same issue can be seen in South American and Black communities with darker skinned female media personalities having a harder time getting roles they want or ‘respectable’/high profile roles. But that’s been a part of the media agenda for ages particularly in Bollywood, making attractive women more accessible, and the disparity in looks between female and male leads and backup is obvious. How does it fit in to the falling apart of community and friendships between these places/ethnicities?

Dark skin is less attractive to many, with my lighter skinned friends saying “you’re not dark skinned, you’re like the rest of us” and my darker skinned friends saying “well you are dark skinned” – and the people around me who have the habit of comparing people to food compare me to light Brown sugar… (Heck I just want to be Gold skinned and haired damnit, not quite sure on what my ideal eye colour/s would be yet and I’d totally have to be able to change body colours for certain moods so it’s not like whether I’m light or dark would matter anyway! :-p ) The racial purity thing always rears its head and preferring lighter skin in general goes all the way back to the Indus Valley as the last commonly known point but goes back further still. Though it gets worse – many people also associate dark skin with being poor (which is nothing to look down on the poor for, more something to look down on those orchestrating and maintaining poverty) and somehow physically unclean (this one being double pronged as it infers being racially inferior and hence unclean as well having dirt on the skin). The poor and unclean connotations aren’t so common among South and Western Asians (not even in Eurasians) but the older I get the more I hear about the belief in South Eastern Asia, more notable in some areas than others which is to be expected e.g. parts of Korea. (Which may go a ways to explaining the experiences I’ve had with Korean people unfortunately and previously I couldn’t understand why they looked and behaved towards me as if I were a piece of crap that purposely got under their shoe. It’s a bloody shame since I respect them as I do anyone else and see them as the forerunners in modern fashion design for my own design preferences as well as being concerned over the massive pressure their younger generations have with conformity vs looking ‘attractive’ e.g. the increasingly common practice of cosmetic surgery as graduation incentive/presents.) So were my past friends secretly looking down on me for more than I realized? I don’t know but either way, it’s terrible that society and whatever ghostly else got between us, I never stopped wanting to be their friend and their images, particularly that of my best friend still haunts me as I wonder about the adult she became.

Part of the dissolution in relations could be the “it’s ok when you’re kids but not when you grow up” mentality. Not having particular affiliations with any specific community meant that my own immediate family didn’t have many regimented social obligations and pressures. Someone once told me that mum planned on marrying me off to which I mounted a massive and years long indirect campaign of resistance towards, but that was the main ‘throwback’ of cultural restriction I had except the usual admonishments most kids get when being told off e.g “you have it easy, in so-and-so’s house, in a traditional house, most Indians do this and that” etc. Or the “disgrace to the family, what will other people think” (how you appear to everyone from people you know to strangers to possible strangers, all of which are somehow more important especially when it comes to reputation and honour) – all of which are common in households from all over Asia to the “where is your brain/didn’t god give you a brain” insult lines found worldwide. And that’s when parents/guardians are talking with their mouths and ha plenty of you know what I’m talkin’ about, and we were getting it even though we were model kids most of the time trying hard and/or doing well in our studies, clubs and housework weren’t we!?! Anything would do; belts, anything steel or tough plastic and long, shoe heels, hair brushes etc – and those before us i.e our parents had it worse and theirs before them! Bah no wonder we were so good at hide and seek and sports! *A few ‘jokingly’ inserted sport and singing related stereotypes could be inserted there but the heavy hand applies to all races – but then again look at the countries that have traditionally done well in certain sports and how their athletes were treated. It has gotten less socially acceptable and less and less people I come across who are younger than me were treated like that but it always continues. Ok gone well off tangent.*

Back on tangent – back to the it’s ok when you’re kids bit. A lot of people I’ve seen start telling their kids to behave differently come puberty or in anticipation of it, and in my day that was roughly 12, now it’s more like 9 and when it comes to relationships Asians are the most racist, in my opinion. When it comes to romantic relationships and marriage Asians are still the least likely to look or end up out of their ‘own kind’ or closest acceptable alternative. Religion plays a big part in that in some parts of Asia and colour comes into it in others. With South and Western Asians religions particularly get in the way but that said it’s like with any coupling – they can fight any and all of the time but doesn’t mean they’ll allow anyone else to e.g. think of a wedded couple who are at each other’s throats half the time but will stand united against anyone else who criticises one of the partners, even if it’s in agreement with something one partner said/did about the other. As part of my own wonderings in sociology I found that most South and Western Asian people I’ve known would think of each other as their next ‘ideal/potential partner’ and not even think of looking outside unless really modern and in those cases it’s more the women finding partners amongst other colours but the men idealizing White and to a lesser extent South Eastern Asian women. When finding out the same from the South Eastern neighbours I found that they were more open to people outside of their sub-continent, most notably towards Caucasian people, both men and women finding them attractive. The same is true vice versa ‘who is your ideal exotic’ (not quite in those words) has most commonly yielded that the White people I’ve known or read/heard about prefer South East Asians as their number 1 alternative. There’s even a repugnant practice in some parts of South East Asia which can be likened to a revamp of colonial behaviour where Western male expatriates have local partners (mostly female) for the novelty of it because they’re “less hassle“, “more eager to please” and quite frankly don’t require treating with the same respect and consideration as a White expat partner would. Many of them keep their ‘toys’ with the promise of marriage in the long run and generally see their Asian partners as money diggers. I’m not saying it’s all one sided but either way why does it come about? Colonialists, ‘masters’, invaders/conquerers, soldiers have always/still taken advantage of people considering them ‘spoils of war’ and ‘property’ regardless of colour, place/ethnicity, origin and destination but this modern expat behaviour isn’t as obvious in South/Western Asia.

I can’t comment on how racial preferences reflect in comparison to the numbers of obviously mixed raced families because the reality of how our lives work out and who we come across/become part of our lives is not necessarily in line with what we expected or fantasized. Though from my collective experience it seems there’s a sub-conscious preference between those we consider most ‘like’ us in ways that we find acceptable. On an individual basis the mixed raced couples and immediate families I’ve known and seen tend to be Black/White, Black/Southern&Western Asian, and South Asian/White; and male/female of either colour in Black/White groupings but mostly Asian women with Black or White men, that said I’ve known a lot of Asian men interested in White and South Eastern Asian women. So my question is, does this mentality extend to friends in communities that don’t keep their kids from mixing/playing together? They might worry about their kids mixing at a later age especially fe/male friendships, but do some communities also withdraw their kids or work in such a way as to make it so their kids gravitate more inwards instead of maintaining or looking outside the community for friends, even same sex friends (when there’s no worry about alternate orientations)? After 12 years old I noticed the South Eastern community looking down on the South/Western Asians more and the South/Westerns Asians adopting an indifferent attitude. Then later I noticed the next generations of South/Western Asians using words I’d never heard before like “chink/y” (UGH) and “freshie” referring to other South/Western Asians “fresh off the boat” (again UGH) i.e newly visiting or immigrating here. What is with this need for the Us and Them mentality – the further we move away from one type of behaviour stemming from this need, another trend pops up. I didn’t put a question mark there because it’s rhetorical, people have the divide and conquer mentality inserted into their minds and maybe their blood. Always finding ways to feed into the complexes yet standing together against what is considered a common threat or something they have to put up with. In those cases the usual enmity or dislike is mitigated with expressions such as “they’re not that bad for a ___” or “they’re ok sometimes” or “they’re ok at work/school/outside but not at home“. Fickle and unhelpful.

On a couple of occasions in my early 20’s I wrote a couple of poems; the first was in answer to a different question/issue but since it’s World Poetry Day and I wrote them in the same timeframe I’m going to post them together. The second directly relates to the above.

Escape through the Sand

I walk alone across the sand,
Barefoot and determined
Parched of thirst and not knowing what my future holds .
I’ve come a long way since yesterday
Many miles upon miles upon miles
There were times I thought I’d given up
But my journey’s just begun.

Every step feels like a mountain
Each dune a potential drop
But forwards I must keep on going
I can’t afford to stop
I’m no longer the person I used to be
I’ve been forced to change my identity

These grains of sand are rough and raw
Ripping and tearing at my skin
Covering me in yellow and gold
An appropriate camouflage to be in
But even then it can’t conceal the truth of what I am
Yesterday I was a woman, today I am a man.

I’m heading towards the city
To start my life anew
Comfortable in my disguise
But at least to myself I am true

I wont be forced into a harem
No matter how convenient it may seem
I wont be forced into being a wife
With no voice, no choice, no life
I wont be forced in pregnancy
By a husband who knows nothing but vice
I wont be given away by my family
Like a possession of those who pretended to care for me
And so I left because my life depended
On those who could of raped me, rejected
Sold my life for money and then had it suspended.

So now I have only me to rely on
No one to trust or ever call upon
But now I am free, to live and just be
No rude expectations, restrictions or abuse
I must find my own way, put my time to good use
Be aware at all times, to avoid death by the noose
Which is the consequence of my crime,
A woman living as a man is not a woman but a demon set loose
In the eyes of society, they’ve no tolerance or excuse
You can be one or the other but not allowed to choose
One gender you must be and follow the rules
Or die a painful death and be branded a fool.

Well a woman I may be, and I’m as proud of it as can be
But a woman has no self within her community
And in men’s clothes at least I have dignity
I can go where I want without reason or permission
Meander down a lane without demeaning tradition
Walk without jeering, oblivious to any leering
I can have an opinion and have it treated respectfully
Without being examined on the quality of my femininity
My eyes, bosom, hips and lips don’t come into it
And if I’m laughed at it’s because of my wit.

I’m not saying that life as a man is easy
It’s not and I don’t underestimate it, believe me
It’s more physical hard work, even for the average day clerk
Unending and all day, for hard earned and little pay
But I learn and get used to it, and at least I can say
That I dictate my own fate; I’m a person and not a dead weight
Just another number for a bigamist with an ego to inflate

I stand my own ground, let the wind blow against me and chafe
But still I have to wary, pretend to shave and never act contrary
For I must never be caught and forced to deport
Face punishments unspeakable and unimaginary.

More now then ever before, I have to keep myself safe.

In tribute and remembrance to the friendships lost.

Chess and International Relations

A game of cunning, a game of guess
A game of thinking, a game called Chess.

Immerse yourself in its logic, and inside its reckless dare
Lose yourself in its strategy, or in your opponent’s stare.
There’s no going back, once you’ve gone forth,
There’s only calculation and staying ahead of the game
Causing your partner losses, and taking the same.

How was chess invented? How on earth did it start?
Well, there’s heated debate about both questions, and some take it to heart.

“It started in India!” Some say,
“No! In China!” Others retort
And even though it’s important, the argument only leaves disarray
We all know there’s political prejudice in the theories anyway.

Similar to the very game itself, based on military precision;
All this anger, conveniently academically based, promotes nothing but competition.
I know I may be far too young, to talk about a ‘golden age’
But I’m sure I remember a time when all this China vs India wasn’t all the rage.
Now, I may have been naïve, my mind trapped within its age,
But I recall when both communities used to respect each other,
And now they don’t even acknowledge one another,
Acting superior, as if on stage.

What does this have to do with chess you say?
Everything and nothing.
It’s a metaphor and an example, of things that have gone astray.
Two subcontinents who used to share benevolence,
So different and yet so similar, exotic yet familiar,
And yet now, just withstanding the other, holding each at bay.

It may not be the older generations, perhaps it’s just the younger
But in my limited experience I’ve seen many barely recognise each other.
Personally, I don’t see why,
For we are cultural sisters and brothers.

In the US, Asians are classed as Chinese and related
And the rest just don’t exist, or are labelled ‘the curry kind’.
In the UK, it’s just as bad, with Indians the only Asians
And the Chinese being sidelined.
It’s not fair I say, and hints at foul play,
We’re all South and South East Asian
Sharing countries on our borders of equal denomination,
And when willingly segregated, all we get is angst and frustration.

And what about the rest of us?
Our neighbours never mentioned?
Forced to specifically clarify themselves, on forms without contention.
We’re not the only ones, and shouldn’t act as if we are,
Big as we may be, in our distinct geography
We don’t own the whole continent and do injustice to our peers
By making our specifications the international generalisation,
Whilst their claims fall on deaf ears.

But anyway, back to chess; a game perfect for this expression,
Its roots steeped in history and mysterious origin.

It’s amazing how like life the chessboard can be,
The allure of success lurking in uncertainty
Jumping from one square to another, relying on probability,
And not all games have been fun and friendly,
Some go on for years with unbridled rivalry
But it doesn’t have to that way, if we try, we can enjoy it affably.

Move your pieces onwards, with their ultimate ambition,
Surround, surprise and conquer; the prize of your opposition.
Why the King? And not the queen? Well that is an interesting question,
The most powerful figure she undoubtedly is and that is no suggestion.
To give her second position, is surely a terrible cheek
But when I think about it, maybe she is tolerant, in order to protect the weak
Like the sergeant to the officer, we know whose the real pipsqueak. 😉

Other enigmas may include:- Why does white go first?
And what about the Castle Switch? That has to be the worst,
Because when you need to do it, the computer always says no
Yet when it is convenient, it’s the first to have a go!

And don’t you just feel sorry, for those poor innocent little pawns?
Always on the front line of fire, and the very first to extend,
The ones constantly used for sacrifice, their territory to defend,
Clearing the path mercilessly, and courageously taking the flack
Fighting for the stronger ones, hiding in the back.

In that sense it’s like society, all the little ants, going with the flow
With the upper echelons, happily running the show.
That order is reflected, in all our institutions
From school to school, work to death
We have no other solutions, hierarchy has always been and is part of our evolution.

That is why, in my opinion, Chess is a fantastic invention
Complicated, time consuming, and full of apprehension.
Composed of individual pieces, limited and free combined,
All trapped within circumstance, and futures intertwined.

It’s the game of life, so neatly represented,
No wonder the Greek gods liked to use it, to make their heroes demented.
I can’t believe life was supposed to be a game,
Forced into moves, never again to be the same.
As a prop piece your fate cemented,
Is that really what was intended?

and here are some pics of me from around the same time that I wrote the poems; first two in my favourite Chinese top:

Yes that's my flame hair :-)

Yes that’s my flame hair 🙂

Dolly

and then:

World Earth Globe Tourist

Mum’s poetry – universal species race relations

Lalita – Why Empty?

Emptiness fills the air, the room, the look on their faces.
However, I dread the longing, the laughter, the thoughts within me –
They give me no space, no room to grow, to grieve, to be!

Why do they fill me with thoughts of plague and suffering, of nonsense and their shame?
I question every detail tearing it apart with an analytical eye.
Yet I am surprised that I find no joy in this quest as it serves me not – only wastes my time,
My energy and my life!

So why do I pursue with such vigor and hunger?
Because the bittersweet craving is the drug,
And the antidote for what was, what is and yet to become.

Pain or pleasure? – Life or death, try both my love?

Fear not the demons – for they are the fear within their fear,
They play you as they play themselves with loss and grief.
They are the losers, the weeping willows, the plague and suffering, greed-lust-sin and war & death.

Answer: The last fight, the last dance and the sweetest kiss of LalitaKali’s victory!

Lalita Maha Kali Goddess Destroyer Mother

I Hate All Forms Of Evil

Gave you all a mind to choose – there was is only one choice that is to do right and good deeds,
You demons decided to do evil deeds harmful to all creatures – you became a virus upon the world.

NOW sit by the fire my little liar for you all will burn burn burn.
Its your day to roast roast roast my little toast toast toast.
Gave you all life and all you did was to burn burn burn, with lust greed and envy.
Gave you all a home and all you did was bring me shame by becoming thieves and parasites.
Gave you all a paradise and all you did was mock my name and turn my world in to a living hell –
You played a fools game.

Sit in the fire my little liar as now you all disappear.
Did you enjoy the game – now hold your breath – I need no answer as all is recorded forever.
Look I am here, always been there and will always be –
You know there is no existence without me!
Time for a beating – would you not agree?

Lalita Maha Kali Destroyer Universe Goddess Mother Creator Fire