Thu 11 Dec 2008
Riddle of the Wicked Magician
Posted by laup under Discussion, Meditations, Movie Madness, Outbreak, Weirdie
[5] Comments
Possible spoilers for The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, so ahroo!
Standing before the doors to the haunted house, My Mirage whispers to myself. “Before you can be granted admittance, you must uncover the identity of the wicked magician.”
I think about what kind of items I might need should I manage to get inside. The haunted house could be hazardous!
The goddess Athena once said to me in a dream, “You must take up a sword.” I thought that was preposterous, since I don’t do swords. A year later, in a waking dream, the unknowable explained to me she meant a pen. I was just too dense to understand her.
I’ve been writing and drawing all my life, but I begin to get it, faintly. I need to take up the pen and write and draw with intent. I must take action. It is no longer enough for me to do it unconsciously. I have been doing it more consciously the last two years. However, I need to know this as well as do it with intention.
I try to decipher the symbolism behind the slapstick, the torch, the wand. I’m carrying not so much a stick as a feminine spirit lent to me by the Dark Goddess. I’m performing not so much the part of Punch as a generic dum-dum on a ridiculous adventure.
While thinking about the past, Xtine pulls free another stone to reveal more me (without consciously realizing it). In a way, in another time and place, I had a puffed up image of myself as the Grand Magician. I thought I knew what I was doing. Much as Koura the wicked magician in The Golden Voyage of Sinbad. Alas, as Xtine points out this guy is so way not eating with both hands.
I wonder about the man in black who follows Koura around. We are meant to think of him as the sensible apprentice to Koura. He certainly knows what is what. “If you continue on this way master, you will die.” Then I think of the oracle’s words about an evil son and wonder who the oracle is talking about – Koura or the “apprentice?” We are supposed to think Koura, of course, but when you are on a ridiculous adventure, layered meanings can spring from anywhere.
I’m thinking about an old Batman and Robin comic, where they fight Benedict Arnold. The old traitor comes back from the dead to break the soul of the country by defeating two of its greatest heroes. A weird dude follows him around the whole time, granting Benedict Arnold powers. Only at the end when the traitor is defeated does the weird dude reveal himself to be Old Scratch (the Devil).
So is that “apprentice” dude really an ordinary guy hoping to advance himself by serving the bad guy, or is he symbolic of the possession of Koura by an evil force? Thinking about it, I decide that on a symbolic level he must represent what is left of Koura’s conscience. He is always the “sane” bad guy, trying to get Koura to be more reasonable, more down to earth.
It is telling that the apprentice is ordered away near the end of the film – Koura has the upper hand (or so he believes) and he no longer needs his “conscience” to keep him alive – indeed, soon after he goes off on his own, Koura starts to die rapidly as the dark magics finally catch up with him!
But me? No way, not no how. Couldn’t happen to me! Like Koura, I thought I was getting the forces of the world to move at my whim. Kali gettin’ down for me? Har! That’s Shiva, dumb-butt, and your face is about to be used as reactor shielding.
Then I get it. Koura was the sultan (read: king). He “killed the sultan” (who always seems to be referred to in a present sense, as if he were still alive somehow), in the sense that he killed himself with his pursuit of dark magic. Much as Saruman in Lord of the Rings. The desire for knowledge can lead too far. Always remember to practice don’t-know-mind!
SNACK!
Koura lived in the castle next to the city because he was the king who had gone bad. The fiery accident that burned the good vizier (read: the apprentice king) happened during Koura’s fall from grace as the true king.
This is a blow to me. I always wondered why “the demons of darkness” (read: the forces of nature) moved to Koura’s command. That’s because he was still manifesting the king energy, even though it was for wicked purposes.
Thanks to Xtine, I realize now how little grasp Koura has on reality. Before, I thought he was just some power monger meddling and paying the price to accomplish his evil goals. But whoa, that’s just what he wants people to think. Total illusion pose for the crowd. In truth, he is out to lunch big time. All lines are busy, no groove, don’t play. Not even on the same page.
That’s incredibly tragic. His quest then becomes not a mad scramble for power, but a compelling desire to reach the Fountain of Destiny and recover what was lost. He “obtains”, to use his own phrase, but only two out of three – the energy of youth and a shield of darkness. The crown of ultimate riches goes to someone else. You can never return to what you once were.
Koura isn’t thinking of the people of his kingdom, or his poor vizier’s suffering. He’s thinking of himself and not in a good way. Sinbad, who represents the transcendent function (he says, “I am the most foolhardy”), comes along to restore the balance and heal the wounds of the earth. He kills Koura in the fountain, and it is only then that the third golden tablet reveals the crown. The king is dead, long live the king.
A phrase comes back to me. “The hero who does not crucify himself today becomes the villain of tomorrow.” I’ve also read that the hero is an immature energy function, that it has a purpose (to take action against the stagnation of life) and once that purpose is fulfilled, the hero must “die” and be reborn as a responsible adult.
I think that must have been what I didn’t do a long while ago. Part of me has been skulking about like a ghost in dark moors and drinking of wretched waters. Joseph Campbell once said, “And where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves.” The four corners fall into place.
I grow afraid. My Mirage is waiting for me in the haunted house. The last thing I want to do is dispatch the vampire, defeat the villain, neutralize the monster. It’s the very worst thing in the world to slay yourself. Psychologically or otherwise.
The doors to the house open. I’m expected.
my dear p,
i’m moved by your brave hunting. it’s like you’re on the trail of something, you can sense it. really beautiful. and inspiring to me.
this thing about the hero who must take action against stagnation, and then die to become a responsible adult. wow. so many pieces lighting up, and i’m going to keep thinking about it all… extraordinary.
tonight i want to say here (i hope you don’t mind) that someone very dear to me, who was indeed my best friend for many years, died this morning. and something about this post — and all our talk about the dead, puts his death in a context that i’m still probably too shocked to understand.
josh had asthma, and a couple of nights ago had a severe attack. he was by himself, and the attack lead to a coronary failure. it didn’t kill him. someone found him, and they had him on life support for a couple days, then he died this morning.
why i put this here… honestly, i don’t know completely, and i might be overstepping to write about this on a comment on your blog, – but my dear friend was trying to find his way. he was lost somehow. i felt it, and knew it for years.
he was like this young hero you talk about, maybe. i don’t know how it is for men — i suspect this process could be different for women — the way we come into our power. but my dear friend was so smart and so clear about so much. and i think somehow stunned. never able to connect and do the deed he felt needed doing. i know that hurt him, frustrated him. and he kept on balking. i tried to support him, but learned that i cannot carry someone singlehandedly through the dark water. although, you know, in my own hubris i thought i could. i had not spoken to him in two years. and now today, i have the news he has died.
i guess, as i read your words, they come home to me in a deep way today, because the demons and fear you talk about i know are so real. i think some kind of fear like that stalled my friend. and somehow i think he gave up. somewhere. his heart actually gave out. i know he was so very very sad. and i am bereft when i think of his death.
he saw so much. and wanted to do so much. he had a heart full of peace and love. sounds sappy i know, but it was true. one’s own power and voice can be so scary. i think that’s why right mentorship and guidance is so important. the gravity of great power can distort an untrained mind and heart. the gravity of strong emotion and trauma can distort even the purist heart. these distortions, or wounds, are real. i’m humbled by this tonight.
o dear p,
i have not been in touch with you in so many years, and now i get to read your words, and be privileged to your thinking and questing. i am glad for this. i am glad, as i think you are one through whom the currents have moved so strongly for so long, i am glad you are alive and brave enough to keep questing.
my own quest nearly killed me. or perhaps did kill a part of me, like your story here. and there are parts of me i need to kill every day. my fear, mostly. my ignorance of the true nature of things. my ignorance of my own true nature.
so in a way it is not my self that i need to kill, but the illusion of my self that i think is true. in order to do this wisely, i need to learn to be still. to be steadfast in my attention and awareness so that i can assess the difference. a lot of crazy shit comes down the pike! you know? i have to learn whole new forms of paying attention! pema chodron calls one aspect of it learning to stay.
i don’t know what i’m saying anymore. please forgive this long post if it’s out of order. my intention behind it is to reach out to you, with my gratitude and my love, and to express, essentially, that i feel the incredible gift of being seen and heard by you, here, in these communiques. and that means the world to me.
may the gods all attend you on your quest. and may your mind become calm and clear, graced with compassionate, passionate vision for the benefit of your own life, and the lives of all around you.
i am humbled by the true power of death. She who has taken my friend today.
i bow and honor that none of us knows when. and that love is what matters. thank you for being my friend, for coming back into my life.
she who you first named: xtine
ps:
you know that statue of shiv that they used in that scene from the movie? the shiv natraj? [nat= dance, raj=king. the dancing king!]
he has four arms. two are extended to the sides, i think both of them rattling drums. or, one of them has a drum and the other a flame. that sounds right.
then, the two other arms he holds relatively close in, in front of his chest. one is palm out, facing you as you look at him. the other is extended across his chest. this gesture means: do not fear. i am with you.
he is dancing in a ring of fire, hair flying. this ring, and his dance, is the motion of all particles in the universe. he is the truth. all the particles in the universe. moving.
and he’s standing on a baby. which is really intense for some people. but the babe is ignorance.
shiv is the god of endings. of death and rebirth. maybe that babe is there as a clue, of what we need to kill. and how to kill it? shiv has no weapon against it. he is standing on it. hmmmm. you could say stamping it out, but i think it’s more like standing firm on it so that it doesn’t go anywhere. everything else is moving, according to it’s true nature. and ignorance is there, too. part of the world. it’s just he has it under his foot, where it can’t get away from him.
at least that’s how it looks to me tonight.
om namo shivaya
Heya Xtine. That’s hard core. I saw the video of Josh on your site. It was a supreme act of kindness for him to take in an abandoned cat like that. How very sweet. Knowing that he’s dead now dampens my feelings. There was a very foggy day here a few days ago, with higher than normal temperatures. It felt otherworldly to me, like I was in the moors of england or some such thing. As I said on your blog, death always brings out the secret or hidden. In this case, perhaps the mysterious.
Your description of Josh’s struggle reminds me of the sparagmos of the hero’s journey. That’s the mid-point in the Other World, the moment of greatest trial, where the hero is crucified, or torn to pieces, or bloodied by wounds. He or she experiences a dying process. Usually its a psychic death – the hero is reborn from the depths or transforms into a new form more appropriate for their adventure. But sometimes it means an actual death as the dragon literally consumes them. This is a liminal moment where you put yourself at risk, real risk, to realize the resources you need to continue. You could look at it as “the hangman” in the tarot. Odin sacrificing his eye for the runes of wisdom, that sort of thing.
The fear of sacrifice for the continuation of life can hold people back. They can’t let go of the infantile, or the old and worn out, or just plain past and done-with elements of their life. Or they can’t imagine what is beyond the cave of darkness out of which the monster comes. People seek release from the burdens of life, or revel in the ecstasy of it for their own pelasure.
SNACK!
The final task you have to do yourself. Other people can and should lend a hand – it’s a tough world out there and we all need each other. But the last step has to be your own. You have to accept. That means you refuse to give up and you refuse to fight. The light of our lives are candles made from the pieces of all the heroes and heroines who ever were. Who wants to accept that? Who wants to get beat up, shaken about and bitten by Lord knows what when we don’t even know what it is we are striving for? Is it any wonder we get scared and start running to hide? At the end of the day, all I have is sympathy for those struggling and fighting with sticks and stones hoping for a revelation. It’s all we got.
There’s an element to Josh’s death that makes me think. I’m thinking you might benefit from reading “Courtney Crumrin and the Night Things”, which has a thing or two to say about life’s ugliness. “These things happen.” Or perhaps it’s the cast of Sesame Street mourning the death of Mr. Hooper, and Big Bird asks angrily, “Why did he go away?” The only answer are his own words from his friends, “Just because.”
We are alive, and we have to live with the terror of knowing he died before we were ready for him to do so. There’s no rest for us, and the terror is real. So I’m going to raise a full glass of draft cider for him, and thank him for dying at just the right time – to wake us the fuck up and get us back to work. I don’t know him, and I can only imagine things based on a four minute youtube video and the words of someone close to him. But I’m going to say he took a blow for all of us, to remind us that there’s great work to do, and to fugging live now while you got it.
Yeah, he was cowering in holes, chased by the horrible darkness. Maybe he bought us time. His kindness seemed real to me, that’s no joke. We don’t know the full extent of his victories or his insights. He might have seen or experienced things beyond explanation, that we ourselves ran past while screaming and pooping our pants silly. That he even tried, and wanted so much out of life is enough for any heroic figure to pat him on the back for. So much is made of the people who can cut down thirty orcs or shoot down twenty foot tall robots – those are all bullshit metaphors for the overwhelming power of the darkness and how it appears. There’s women who tame the evil horse by talking to it, men who change the rotten ogre by hugging it. Being caring and sensitive is hard work. Anybody can pick up a club and womp the rats – that’s the default man.
The sparagmos, it means business!
Oh yeah, and thanks for the shiv info. I didn’t realize that was a baby underfoot, representative of ignorance. Since shiv is displaying the universe in motion (read: space and time) and telling us not to fear, while he holds the baby put, I think it’s a meditation on faith, and courage. The baby will grow up, as ignorance will become illumination. Whether we like it or not, life moves forward and we can either go with it or be dragged along by it.
I can’t find the picture, but there’s a photo of shiv with a young girl looking up and out in wonder while he dances. I suppose if you put your image in front of mine we have a story unfolding. Yeah, shiv is doing some serious shyt, yo. There you are, you as the embodiment of your own ignorance, and then one day – whoa, I see STUFF.
There seems to me to be both differences and similarities in the quest for men and women. But it’s very hard to talk about it without short circuiting the discussion. What’s just a form reinforced by history, and what are the more immutable archetypes, and what are they all doing in relation to one another.
I will say that it appears that in this day and age, everyone’s looking for some outside source of power to fill them up. Men are looking for women to be their source of power, willingly or not. Women are looking for men to give them permission to be powerful. Women and men are looking for power in addictions, behaviors, images they have of themselves. No one wants to burn their own firewood, so to speak.
Because you got to go into the woods and risk getting eaten by wolves. Then you got to chop it down and drag it home. Then you got to saw it into pieces and split it into useable chunks. Store it someplace in a neat stack so the thieves don’t come and grab some. Work, work, work. Screw that, lemmie get someone else to hold the weight of the world for me. ‘Scuse me while I suck my thumb (and my life’s blood outta YOU).
I’ll tell ya Xtine, you have to take your own power because no one will do it for you. No one else can give you that power, but they sure will act like you can give it to them! And I mean power not in the sense of a rainstorm or a river flowing down the landscape, or magic in the sense of your first kiss or the time you drank wine in the woods with a dear friend talking about everything, but power in the sense of the ability to live your own life and have your own experience.
I’m thinking of a mindset like Sagat’s “Funk Dat” video. Live your own damn life, make your own damn movie. I can imagine you walking down the street like a wiselet and pushing away all the wrong expectations and impersonal demands with a firm and funky “Funk dat! Get your own damn life!”
Peace galore to yeh hek sistah X.
dear p,
so much to say, always, these days.. but for now
soul salute and true thanks for all you see.
snowing here in portland. ice and wind. a beautiful hekate gesture of deep below.
blessed be,
sister x