Finding the Myth

The beginning of this semester in Classical Literature was very intimidating. My peers appeared to know double everything I thought I knew, and I felt like I was behind on my first day of class. Just like poor Psyche who thought she couldn’t complete the tasks given to her by Venus, I didn’t think I had much hope either. Fortunately I didn’t drop the class and stuck with it. Now, writing this paper, I am doing something I would never have done before this class, and that is finding the myth behind things.
The process of writing this final paper has revealed to me the myths surrounding my own life, rather than the famous people we talk about in class, like Anna Nichole Smith or Elvis. I had no idea what I was to write about for this paper, not because the topics were lacking, but rather there were so many topics to choose from. So Tuesday I set aside the entire evening to write my paper. But after a series of unfortunate or maybe rather fortunate events, my paper was not completed on time. Like the woman who told a story to save her life, I told my story to Dr. Sexson to get an extension, which by his good grace was given to me. I’m glad I received the extension, and now I have something to write about: my Tuesday. The first day of class we were told that stories today are empty unless they are energized, so here is my energized story.
Class was over and I walked along campus to go relax with friends on the “mall” in front of Montana Hall. The walk was innocent enough; I was doing my own thing. And like unsuspecting Europa I too was abducted, not by a bull but rather by a guy in my Classical Literature class, Sutter Stremmel. He was there in his hammock the sun glowing around him while reflecting off his sunglasses and his dog Oly was frolicking around the trees next to him. He looked safe, he looked inviting, no girl could resist. The next thing I know I am being whisked away in his white chariot towards the river Styx or rather, the Yellowstone River. The goal was to float for a few hours from Grey Owl to Loch Leven which is about a 5 mile stretch. There were a few clouds in the distance, but the sun was warm so we ignored them and took off.
Two hours had gone by faster than we expected and Sutter was struck with a bout of sudden anagnorsis. “I think we missed the take out” he said. I was thinking what the hell did I get myself into? I barely knew this guy, I mean his dog is cute enough, but I didn’t know if he knew what was going on. He claimed to have floated this river a bunch, yet he missed the take out. The sky clouded over, the wind began to blow, and as far as Sutter was concerned, we were lost! Someone had forgotten the map in the vehicle. We were a couple of asses and a dog lost on the Yellowstone, or rather Sutter was the ass and I the victim. I chilled in the front of the chariot while Sutter rowed. It was like the doomed flight of Phaeton; Sutter was going to crash and burn.
This adventure could have ended tragically, we could have ended up pulling up on shore with the boat and turning it over to create a shelter to sleep in for the night, but Sutter pulled through and we found a take out, but we were stuck there. Sutter’s pick-up was at Loch Leven and we were at Carter’s Bridge, a good 15 miles down the river. The only thing we could do was start walking and hitch a ride with someone. We walked about five minutes and the Tiresias figure named John picked us up. Fortunately he knew where Loch Leven was, and took us there, even though it was out of his way.
We arrived at our vehicle 5 hours and 20 miles from where we had started. We had an adventure that neither of us had expected, just like Lucius in The Golden Ass. And like Lucius we were rewarded for all our suffering. Lucius gets to be transformed back into a human, and we received milkshakes.
Thus at the conclusion of this escapade, I had my necessary scapegoat in the form of Sutter to get the extension on my paper that I needed. During class at one point it was said there is no story if you obey, and that could be like there is no story if nothing goes wrong. My story on the river would be boring if Sutter and I had a casual float down the river and made it back when planned. Thus, I suppose I should thank Sutter for the abduction and relish in the fact that all that is past possesses a present and I am a part of that. And the moral of this story is the story.

Synchronicity

I found synchronicity on Wikipedia. Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events which occur in a meaningful manner, but which are causally inexplicable to the person or persons experiencing them. The events would also have to suggest some underlying pattern in order to satisfy the definition of synchronicity as originally developed by Swiss psychologist Carl Jung. It's like a coincidence. I like the example Wikipedia had:

A well-known example of synchronicity is the true story of the French writer Émile Deschamps who in 1805 was treated to some plum pudding by the stranger Monsieur de Fortgibu. Ten years later, he encountered plum pudding on the menu of a Paris restaurant, and wanted to order some, but the waiter told him the last dish had already been served to another customer, who turned out to be de Fortgibu. Many years later in 1832 Émile Deschamps was at a diner, and was once again offered plum pudding. He recalled the earlier incident and told his friends that only de Fortgibu was missing to make the setting complete — and in the same instant the now senile de Fortgibu entered the room.

I tried to think of how synchronicity has happened in my life, and I haven't come up with much. I'm sure it's happened and at the time I thought it was really cool. I like the idea behind this next definition. It is such a different way to think about ourselves. Like our souls actually attract things to us. The definition tells us what we attract, but I think one it has forgotten is thoughts. Like what about when you are thinking about someone you haven't talked to or seen in a while and they call you, appear, or you see them later in the day. Spooky!? It's like something out there is reading our minds. It's like a mild for of destiny? This could be an synchronicity right? Well anyway I like this definition from crystalinks.com:
"Synchronicities are people, places or events that your soul attracts into your life to help you evolve to higher consciousness or to place emphasis on something going on in your life. The more 'consciously aware' you become of how your soul manifests, the higher your frequency becomes and the faster you manifest positively. Each day your life encounters meaningful coincidences, synchronicities, that you have attracted, on other words created in the grid of your experiences in the physical. Souls create synchronicities, played out in the physical. It is why you are here. It is how our reality works."

Here's a couple pics I found for synchronicity:

Reflection on The Transformations of Lucius

I'm sure people have quoted this from class on April 16th, but I like it so much I have to blog it too. On the 16th we were talking about The Golden Ass (or rather the first Mr. Ed) and that led Sexson to say, to the class, "You are all asses." Sexson is referring to the fact that we all need to be transformed. I don't know how we are to be transformed. Transformed by the class, by classical literature, by life? I suppose we are transformed by all of these things and more. I agree with Sexson, we are all asses, and that's with the understanding that ass doesn't mean idiot, but maybe it means naive or learning. While we learn we might make "asses" of ourselves.....but not really. Anyway, the point is, I may never hear a professor call his/her students asses ever again, so that was a special moment!

So, I read The Golden Ass and I loved it. Some of the situations were hilarious, like when Lucius, in ass form eats all the really nice food from the bakers table and baker guy gets really excited about it and trains him to do "tricks." Then I got grossed out when Lucius, still in donkey form has sex with a rich noblewoman.

I also wanted to point out that in one of my earlier blogs I talked about the Centaurs and the Lapiths, and so to my pleasant suprise they are talked about in The Golden Ass as well. It's a small blip, comparing when the bandits stole the bride from the wedding, to the wedding of Hippodamia and Pirithous of which was ruined by the Centaurs and Lapiths. It was nice to know the story behind the reference.

Another example of sporagmos is in The Golden Ass. The two groups of bandits are comparing stories and the second group is telling their unfortunate tale on page 90. "It was shocking to see poor Thrasyleon cornered by dozens of maddened dogs, who fastened their teeth into various parts of his body and began pulling him to pieces." Classic example of sporagmos.

Also, when Lucius and the girl that was captured with the bandits are escaping the girl is talking to Lucius the ass and wondering if he was a god or human in animal form. That was pretty ironic.

In class Sexson was talking about the morals in the Metamorphoses and his reductionistic conclusion was #1 Shit happens and #2 Things change which can be the morals for The Golden Ass as well. Then later on in class Sexson put out there that the moral of the story is the story.

a romantic recount

While reading the Metmorphoses of Ovid today I found a story that I really liked. It stirred some emotion and made me sad. The story is Pyramus and Thisbe. It is a beautiful and tragic love story. These two lovers live right next to eachother, but are forbidden from hanging out. Yet, the fire of love continues to burn within them. Pyramus and Thisbe communicate through a small crack in the wall and plan to meet out near this mulberry tree. Thisbe drops her cloak and a lion rips it up with her bloody mouth. Then Pyramus finds it and kills himself because he thinks Thisbe is dead. But she is alive and finds Pyramus, and kills herself, all for love. How amazing. I would never kill myself if the one I loved died. Granted, I would probably feel like I'd rather be dead than alive without the person, but still, I could never stab myself over that. In any case, the real heart jerker is that Thisbe pleads for the gods to leave the mulberries the dark red color instead of white in rememberance of their love. And the gods grant her wish. I just like this story. That's it.

rainbow fever

The other day in class we had to choose 5 lines from The Metamorphoses of Ovid to share with the class. I think they were supposed to be our favorite lines. I chose an excerpt from Arachne on page 179. It's describing a tapestry, I just like the description:

"as, when a storm is done, the rays of sun
strike through the raindrops and a rainbow stains
with its great curve a broad expanse of sky;
and there a thousand different colors glow,
and yet the eye cannot detect the point
of passage from one color to the next,
for each adjacent color is too like
its neighbor..."

I went three lines over the suggested 5, but I thought it was necessary. This description paints a rainbow across your mind. Even though it is not there for your eyes to see, you have no doubt of what it looks like. This description makes the colors dance in my imagination. I feel the colored raindrops are interacting and communicating. There could be a dialogue between the color droplets. I have heard many words trying to describe a rainbow, but this description used in The Metamorphoses of Ovid, is not cheesy like the others, it is true and majestic. Just absolutely beautiful.

Lapiths and Centaurs

The song of the Lapiths and Centaurs is pretty awesome. Starts on page 405. I felt bad for Eurytus the centaur because he wasn't used to wine and drank too much, thus lost control and attempted to rape the bride. I mean really I should feel bad for the bride, but Eurytus dies! "Then from his mouth and wounds the centaur spouts both blood and brains alike: he vomits wine and, stumbling, falls on the damp ground - supine." Dead. Then a complete battle ensues between the Lapiths and Cantaurs. The following description of the battle is some of the most gruesome I've ever read. But I keep reading because it's interesting for read. The imagery is extremely vivid. For example, "The eyes slid from their sockets..." or "...one eyeball stuck upon the pointed horns, the other slid down to his beard and hung within the clotted blood below his chin." This stuff is disgusting or maybe poetic But because it is classical literature, I get to read this crazy stuff for class. That's wicked cool. In any case, It was hard to read this not only because it was gory, but I think centaurs are really cool. In Harry Potter centaurs are the most knowledgable beasts and can see into the future. In the Chrinicles of Narnia the centaurs are messengers and such. But in Greek mythology they are like beasts and drink wine etc.

Dionisys planned my spring break

Monday's class was about the most interesting class yet. We talked about sexual things, which makes sense because Lysistrata lends itself well to that being a boner poem, if you will. In any case, Dr. Sexson reminded the class that Aristophanes likes to make fun of the phallice, because it is not to be feared, but something to make fun of. This struck me. Yes, the penis is funny, hilarious even; the word and the anatomical part. But what of the vagina?? People generally don't look at a vagina and laugh, they may be grossed out, or maybe they think it is beautiful. Well, this spring break, i learned to laugh at the vagina. Well, actually, I laughed a lot at the vagina when I went to the Vagina Monologues. Aside from that, I laughed a lot this spring break at a vagina poem or song that we sang on the river after drinking copious amounts of alcohol and indulging in weed products. This is a repeat after me diddy that is fun in large intoxicated groups. It goes like this:

Arangadangdoo.

Pray what is that?

It's all covered in fur.

Like a pussy cat.

There's a hole in the middle.

And it's split in two.

And that's what we call.

An arangadangdoo.

wooo.

This little thang was extremely entertaining throughout the whole river trip. This trip was pretty much like a giant symposium from classical literature, minus the orgy part. The Arangadangdoo song was our friend Walker's contribution to the mess. Thank you Walker.

It was as if Dionisys was the coordinator of the trip!