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Meme: Oral Traditions v. Writing August 12, 2009

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.
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In one of those instances where I read a book on the bus, and then discover a similar sort of idea on the web, I’m rather fascinated about the notion of passing on stories in an oral tradition.  Christopher Penczak’s book on Qabala The Temple of High Witchcraft, talks about reality maps that different practitioners have utiilzed over the centuries.  Dion Fortune likens the 10 Sephiroth to card files where correspondences can be filed.  It serves as a useful reality map.

I’ve heard that Giordano Bruno created something he called a “memory tower” so that he could remember a long speech for example, by envisioning himself walking through a palace that held the touchstones for his seemingly extemporaneous words.  Interestingly, both Penczak, and Jason Godesky on Energy Bulletin (“The Land Speaks” published 8/12/09) speak of Bruno and they illustrate similar points, though Penczak is coming from a magick place, and Godesky coming from a more soil place.  (Though really it’s the same thing, and I think C.P. would probably agree while J.G., who seems a bit young with all that goes with that, would probably demur.)

I was struck though by the contrast between the written and the oral, and I see how written words have made us … well, dumb in some respects.  Godesky’s mentioning of The Gods Must Be Crazy was instructive in this regard.  We’re dumb and insane at the same time.  And I watch with mystification all the frothy fear-mongering and violence-lust that comes forward these days with the teabagger/town hall “protests”.  A loud and agitated group of mostly older white men takes the SPRAAAAWWKKK box to decrey them non-white, non-male, non-hetero, non-Christinanist, non-cuntic pipplz they duz hate on.

A group more out of touch with the land on which they stand, and which they profess to love than no one else, it would appear.  No reverence for this plane here, but don’t you dare touch their medicare.

This leads me to ponder about the difficulties I am having writing of late.  Perhaps it’s time to take up some improv or some such.  My journal sees only intermittent use.  It feels lifeless and sterile to write these days.  It’s not a “what’s the point” sort of futility, but more a “been here, done this, what else ya got?” mentality underlying the acedia.  I will have to wait a little now that the latest show has passed into history.  There’s usually a lag from when I finish an acting/directing gig and when I take up my pen in some endeavor.  But, even though Cerridwen and other guides tell me my writing is serving a function, and they compel me to show up at least in the mornings to work on my “Taliesin book” (which seems to take quite a bit of effort these days), I feel it only as an obligation.  There’s no passion there right now.  Even so, I’ve had visualizations of my own personal story mansion, and I think that part of why I can’t even get into the first room is because my approach has been one of “help me get famous.”  Wrong-ass  mode there. To just experience this interior castle–like St. Teresa D’Avila, that’s what makes better sense.



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