The Lunar Year of the Monkey and Tales of the Monkey and Peach

The 8th of February 2016 marks the first day of the Year of the Monkey.  The Monkey often is associated with the Peach, a symbol of Immortality.  The artwork shown here depicts the Monkey inside a Peach.

One of the most famous tales about the Monkey is Momotaro or Peach Boy, a very popular Asian folktale.  Another, however, is the tale of the Monkey King.    Here are the two tales:

The Tale of Momotaro

'Peach Boy' or Momotaro is a very popular folktale from Okayama Province in Japan.  It follows a theme that is known throughout the world wherein a young lad is found by an old childless couple floating on the sea, river or lake and once grown,  goes off to save his people.  Typically, along the journey, he acquires useful animal companions who come to his aid at a critical moment.  The name of the hero, Momotaro literally means 'Peach Son' as Momo is the word for Peach and Taro is the word for elder son. 

Momotaro was sent from heaven in a giant peach and launched upon the waters to be discovered by a childless couple.  The old woman was washing clothes when she spied the enormous peach floating upon the water.  She and her husband opened it in order to eat it and found the boy inside. 
When he reaches the age of 15, he determines to save the land from some demons who inhabit an island.  It is thought that the Island where the demons lived was Megijima Island because of its many manmade caves.
In some versions of the tale, the boy resembles the heroes of many Western folktales and fairytales in that, rather than being a hardworking, diligent lad, he sleeps most of the day and is considered feckless until he goes off to meet the challenge of the Demons who plunder the land.  Similar heroes are found, for example, in such stories as the tale of the Princess on the Glass Hill where the hero is the youngest son who, while his brothers are hard at work each day,  sleeps in the ashes next to the fireplace but ultimately is the only one who can reach the top of the hill to win the Princess.
Curiously enough, one of the first stories I ever wrote was called 'The Apricot Pit' and followed some of the same themes but the 'hero' in my tale was a girl rather than a boy.  I wrote it when I was eight years old, bored during school sports, dying to be in a different time and place.   While idly tracing designs in the dirt with my shoe, I unearthed a dried apricot pit.  Splitting it open, I was fascinated by the almond-shaped seed at its centre.  The seed actually smelled like almonds as well and I later discovered that it is used both in sweet biscuits and liqueurs.  In any case, I began to invent a tale wherein the pit contained not a seed but a girl...

The Monkey King

A monkey was born from a stone egg that had been fertilised by the wind as it lay on the peak of a mountain. He discovered a heavenly grotto in which other monkeys would reside safely and thus the stone monkey became the Monkey King of the monkey tribe. He soon became very adept at magic arts and learned skills from a Taoist immortal who among other things gave him the personal name of Discoverer of Secrets, and taught him to change his shape at will and to fly through the air. The Monkey King organised all the monkeys and slew a monster who was persecuting them.He obtained a magic weapon from the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea with which he began to make himself a master of the four quarters.

After a great feast given in his honour, the Monkey King fell asleep in the shade of a pine tree. As he slept, two men approached, tied him with rope and dragged him to the King of Death, who had him chained in the Region of Darkness.

However, he broke his bonds and stole the register of deaths from which he deleated his own name and that of all monkeys making them immortal. As a result of all the trouble which he caused he was summoned to Heaven.  He was given the title then of Superintendent of the Heavenly Stables to satisfy his demands for status.

All was peaceful until the Monkey King learned from the other ministers that his new position was one with no rank. He started angrily breaking everything up in heaven and then withdrew to a mountain. The Lord of Heaven called for a siege of the mountain, but was repulsed by the Monkey King. Seeing that the only way to keep him from doing more harm was to keep him in heaven under their watchful eyes, the Lord of Heaven and his followers agreed that the Monkey King would be accorded a new title, The Great Sage, Equal to Heaven. When the Monkey King heard of his new position, he agreed once again to behave himself. Unbeknownst to the Monkey King, his residence was built next to the Garden of Immortal Peaches, a source of immortality. His title carried with it no duties and he therefore idled away his time with various stars and heavenly constellations. Other immortals were afraid that his idleness would lead to more roguery. They asked the Lord of Heaven to give him a duty to perform. Thus, the Monkey King was made Superintendant of the Garden of Immortal Peaches.

Unfortunately he was not invited to come to the Peach Festival (held every 3000 years), and to revenge himself he not only ate all the food and wine prepared for the feast but also stole the medicine of Immortality. As the Monkey King had already eaten the peaches, he was therefore made immortal.

He retired to his mountain kingdom, but his irresponsible behavior had now infuriated all the gods and goddesses. After a long siege in which the Monkey King employed all his magic skills to avoid defeat, he was finally captured and brought before the Jade Emperor, who condemned him to death as a criminal in revolt agains the Heavenly Throne. The sentence could not, however, be carried out because the monkey King was protected both by the peaches and the pills. He was handed over to Lao Tzu, father of Taoism to be distilled in the alchemists' furnace. 

The furnace was heated to white heat for forty-nine days, but at the end of this time the Monkey King lifted the lid and threatened to destroy Heaven. In despair, the Jade Emperor sent for the Buddha, who asked Monkey King why he wished to possess Heaven. The Monkey King's reply was that he knew with certainty that he was sufficiently powerful to rule Heaven. When the Buddha demanded proof for his claim, the Monkey King explained that he was immortal, invulnerable, able to change his shape in 72 different ways, to fly through the air and to leap a distance of 108,000 li (1li = 1/3 of a mile).

The Buddha doubted whether the Monkey King could even jump out of the Buddha's palm, but agreed that if the Monkey King was successful, then he was surely entitled to rule Heaven. The Monkey King leaped into the air and sprang across Heaven to the furtherst corners of the earth, where he came to rest at the base of a great mountain, where he urinated as animals do when they wish to mark territory as their own. Then he returned in a single bound to confront the Buddha. 

The Buddha however laughed at his claim of having traversed the whole universe at a single bound and showed him that the mountain where he had unrinated was but the base of one of the Buddha's fingers and that he had not even escaped from the palm of the Buddha's hand. Then the Buddha created a magic mountain and imprisoned the Monkey King up within it.

Here he would have remained had the Goddess of Mercy not obtained his release so that the Monkey King might accompany a monk on a great pilgrimage to the Western Paradise (India) to get authentic versions of the Buddha's teachings. The Monkey King swore faithfully to obey his new master and to protect him from perils. He did this despite many temptations and dangerous situations on the way.

On their return, the turtle who was carrying them across a flooded river left them to sink, because the Monkey King's companion had not fulfilled the promise he made to turtle on the way to the destination. Despite this, they managed to swim safely to shore and were greeted with great honours by the Emperor of China and the people.

Their final honours came from a heavenly committee of welcome presided over by the Buddha Yet To Come. The Monkey King was made God of Victorious Strife. At the beginning of the pilgrimage a helmet had been fitted on the Monkey King's head which contracted upon his skull when he was wayward or wanton. The agony of the contractions had caused him to refrain from wickedness. When, therefore, he was given his new title, the Monkey King begged to have his helmet removed since he had now become an enlightened one. The answer that was given was that if the Monkey King was indeed enlightened, the helmet would vanish of its own accord. The Monkey King reached up to feel his head and found that the helmet had disappeared.

The Power of Tears

There are a few almost electrifying experiences in my past... one of those is the ritual of Matam, of weeping for Imam Husayn, performing all of the old traditional rites of mourning.  When the coffin finally is brought into the room, the effect is extraordinary.  It is NOT a piece of playacting... it is REAL.  I miss the rites of the first ten days of Muharram.  I miss the rites of Ashura.

When I was a young girl, I had similar moments when I knelt and prayed during Mass, particularly at the moment when the bread became the Body of Christ.   While I have gone to Mass many times over the years, I have not experienced that sort of extreme miraculous overwhelming emotion very often.

I do experience it, oddly enough, on Christmas Eve, when the lights are dimmed and every one sings 'Silent Night' very softly.  The tears stream down my face.  I am utterly undone emotionally.  I am not quite certain why... part of it is the beauty of the moment.  Part of it perhaps is the magic of the creche and the birth of the Christ Child in the cave, surrounded by the animals.  It is NOT an entirely Christian moment.  It belongs to all the ancient Mystery religions and is more powerful for that.  Perhaps part of it is being a mother myself.  I never wept during the Christmas Eve Mass before Freya was born.  I love my daughter dearly but I miss my baby girl and will miss her forever I daresay.  Every single moment of her infancy was precious and miraculous to me.   I pity the women who march off to work, leaving an infant child behind in the arms of some one else.  Those moments cannot be recovered.  They are lost to those women forever and perhaps they do not even fully realise the price they paid.  I vowed that I would live in abject poverty if need be while Freya was a baby, if that were necessary to stay with her.  I do not regret an instant or the opportunities I rejected.

I was overwhelmed emotionally the first time I visited the Tomb of Napoleon at Les Invalides.  I went down on my knees on the elegant marble floor to pray to/for my Emperor.  Was it really Napoleon who sparked that extraordinary degree of emotion and loyalty in me or some image of him?  Probably the latter... but is that not true of any religion?

Yet, of all these, it is the rites of Muharram that have the greatest power.   There are moments in 'Lord of the Rings' that reduce me to helpless tears every time I watch them, but one is not participating there except in spirit.  During Muharram, one IS a mourner, a witness of the martyrdom of the Imam and his followers.  One is at Karbala.  'Kullu yowmin Ashura, kullu ardin Karbala.'  (Every day is 'Ashura; every land is Karbala.)   One can taste the dust of the desert, feel the unquenchable thirst and hunger, the desperate determination not to falter and not to fear the hand of Death...  it is re-enacted every year and each year only gains in potency.

It is interesting that the greatest power is held by thoughts or experiences that elicit tears.  They do say that weeping is a form of catharsis.  We all have our personal losses and tragedies.  To weep for ourselves is pathetic.  To weep for another is ennobling.

In Roman times, the tear vial became popular and people would catch their tears in a glass vial to send to another.

Oddly enough, they became popular once again a few years ago.


Unfortunately, no one wants a person who does not belong exclusively to THAT club.  You cannot be 'neither fish nor fowl' and expect to be accepted and embraced into the fold.  You will be an outsider forever, barely tolerated if tolerated at all.  I believe in too many miracles.  I am no agnostic.  I am a person who believes in all sorts of magic, including the magic of Catholicism and the magic of the Shiani 'Ali... and the magic of Odhinn and Freya and the runes... and of course, the very potent magic of Tolkien's Middle Earth.