Thoughts about Death

To find Mark on Facebook only AFTER he died makes me feel as though he had moved next door to me but I had never known.  How easy would it have been to find him!  For some reason, all his posts were public.  He certainly was savvy enough to limit views if he had so desired.  After all, he lived and breathed technology in a sense.  It makes me very sad to discover how much he suffered and how I did not know anything about that.  I always felt he would grow weary of being cross with me for a stupid political disagreement and then would make contact again... never would I have thought he would die at his age.  Why not though?  I had friends who died before they reached 30 and more than one...

Today in the bath, I had a very vivid vision of the act of dying.  Of what it is like to be at the threshold as it were.  I saw a deep gorge before me and I heard a voice telling me that I had to leap over it instantly or I would die... in other words, if you do not find the desire or courage to leap over it fast enough, you have no hope of returning to the living world.  I never conceived of anything like this.  It was a purely spontaneous vision, whatever its merits.

It kind of makes sense though.  I think many people die because they cannot summon enough energy to continue to struggle.  It happens particularly with those who have lost a loved one or live in severe pain.  I know that, were it not for some very compelling responsibilities in the form of my daughter and my cats, I would been hard-pressed to keep up the struggle now.  The pain gets worse and worse and mobility continues to diminish.  Furthermore, I keep losing friends and loved ones to Death.  I suppose there is some point when you see that more of the people for whom you care are on the other side of the veil and then, what keeps yiou here???
 
Still, I do want to hang onto life until I feel I have accomplished something of true value and I don't see any hope for my Cats should I throw in the towel.  Although my daughter does not really NEED me any longer, I would spare her that pain of loss and moreover, I am very interested to see what she accomplishes in her life.

Thus, one has reasons to go on, even if the way is dim sometimes.

Thinking again about Mark, I realise that if ANY ONE could make contact with the living to prove life after death, it would be he.  He was fascinated with magic and mathematics.  I think the trick of it would be rooted in Maths somehow, rather like Einstein's Theory of Relativity.  Whether or not he would bother to contact me after shutting down communication a few years ago, I do not know.  Somehow, though, I feel he wished I would have contacted him again.  As I grow older, my stubborn ability to insist upon keeping flames of old friendships alive diminishes... but I do feel I was right always to make those attempts.  It is not a case of living in the past but simply of continuing to value everything that MATTERED at any point in time during ones life.

I think that is what some people do not understand.  It is not that I am trying to drag them away from the present and to enforce some sort of past relationship.  It is rather that these are the people who were important to me.  It was they whom I loved and therefore always will love, although that love need not impinge upon any current relationship or life.  I never comprehended how people can slam the door on their own past lives and loves.  It does not make any sense to me.

So Mark, I'll be open on the astral plane.  I used to spend a fair amount of time there or at least I tried to discipline my spirit to be able to travel outside this narrow sphere.  It would be a great trick to have up my sleeve now when my body has been such a betrayer and has placed me in a prison of damaged flesh.  Worth trying simply for that, I expect!

My daughter used to have great power to travel the astral plane.  She told me how, when she was a child, she was able to visit her uncle's house.  I too recall similar experiences during my childhood and even during adulthood but not for a very long time.  I suppose I lost the discipline of it.  Time to renew it.

I would be very interested to know if Mark finally has been forced to concede the existence of God as well.  Such a literal mind but now all those limitations must have dissolved in death.  He has to perceive whatever is universal and beyond human measurements.

Our Local Temple at Chandeshwari, from 'Nepal Back in Time'

Personal Note:  For a long time, I could not bear to write about my experiences as a child in Nepal.  The emotional and spiritual wounds remained raw and deep.  Now, however, I feel it is time to revisit that very significant period of my life and glean all that was good from it before it is too late.

Dedicated to Kaji Lal Shrestha and his family in Chandeshwari

As a child, I lived in a compound on a maidan (artificial mound) that had been constructed almost at the halfway point between the village of Banepa and the village of Chandeswari.  Banepa lay on the paved road that went from Kathmandu all the way to the Tibetan border and had been built by the Chinese.  Chandeswari, on the other hand, was a little less accessible, as the road was nothing more than a path.

My aunt and uncle had little interest in the native religions or legends but I made friends quickly with the village girls and participated in their puja rituals as often as possible.  Puja consisted of taking a platter filled with different rraditional offerings to the local temple in the morning, being blessed with sacred red paste or powder (tika) and then returning home.  All the young girls I knew performed puja.  I daresay my aunt and uncle would have been horrified had they known that I worshipped at the temple of Chandeswari with my friends.

I remember some of the offerings that were placed on the large round tal that was taken to the temple in the morning.  String incense was one of the items and it was placed in a small brass cup with a stand.  Another offering might be the head of a rooster.  Fresh flowers as well as the crushed rice known as chura in our village might be included as well.  The tika was the red paste that would be placed on the forehead of the person who brought the offering to the temple.

I hate to admit it but in my day, the temple was very dirty and very dark always.  We often did not wear shoes and I can remember quite vividly the feeling of flies, sticky old blood and bones from old sacrifices beneath my bare feet.  The inside of the temple hummed with feeding flies.  During the sacrifices, goat heads were piled high about the temple precinct.

The atmosphere was charged with power and magic.  Whenever I entered that dim, cool building, I shivered slightly and experienced a frisson of fear.   When I look at newer photographs of the temple, there is less power although I still see old bones from sacrifices scattered on the ground.

When I first went to Nepal, the smells and sights were overwhelming, but one soon became accustomed to it and indeed, I felt that the more I lived like one of the Nepalese, the better I would feel about life there.

I realise as well that in the West, our culture is extremely antiseptic and that destroys the fabric of reality upon which spiritual power traditionally was and is built.  Life and Death are very real and the flies that feast upon the blood as well as the maggots that eat the rotting flesh are part of the Great Goddess who oversees Death and Rebirth.  Kali or Durga or Chandeshwori as she is named in Napal is a terrifying Goddess in some of her aspects, with tongue extended to lap up fresh blood with an insatiable thirst.  At the same time, as any one who has studied any sort of mythology knows, there can be no Rebirth without Death.  Death is the Mother of Rebirth and the old and exhausted must be swept away in order to provide room for new life.

As an adult, I know far more about the Goddess Chandeswari than I did as a child.  She was a terrifying figure with eight arms, all brandishing weapons and other items of power.  It was she who, in the form of Durga (Chandeswari in Nepal) slew one of the most powerful of demons.  The tale varies from place to place.  I will recount the classical version of the tale after giving the local Nepalese version:

Now to recount the local legend of Chandeshwari in Nepal.

You may not realise how important the village of Chandeshwari is if you visit it without knowing of its history but it was here that the powers of Light defeated the evil Demon Chand.

Long, long ago, almost within reach of the dawn of Time, a great and powerful demon named Chanda set his will against the Gods and laid waste to the earth.  The gods engaged in battle against him and were defeated.  Indeed, they were cast out of Heaven itself in defeat and were forced to live in the forests near Banepa in a valley near a river with a trail that lead to the very heart of the Himals and to the greatest mountain of all, later to be known as Everest.  The river was the Punya Mata River and even in those days, there were a few houses near the river where people were born, lived and died to be burned on the ghats by the waters.

It was due to the fact that the God Shiva had granted a boon to the demon that their defeat had been certain for the demon could not be defeated either by any God or any man.

The Demon, in the way of most demons, delighted in mischief and destruction.  He laid waste to the land on the shores of the Punya Mata, even fouling the pure waters of the River.  The poor people who lived there became desperate as their goats, buffalo and chickens were slaughtered, disappearing into the maw of the Demon, whose appetite was unsatiable.  He roared with laughter to see their anguish  and the awful sound kept the people awake at night, while their bellies rumbled and they grew weaker and weaker.

There always have been brave warriors in Nepal and the young men of the warrior caste armed themselves and sallied forth to fight against Chandra.  Like chaff from beaten rice, after tearing them to pieces, he scattered their bodies to the four winds and the women wailed and mourned.

Both the people and the gods living in the forest despaired of their power to save their land.  Only the greatest of the Gods could hope to solve the terrible problem that faced the world.

The gods living in the forests sent the Garuda as their messenger to Vishnu and Shiva and narrated their tale of woe.  As they did so, an immense mass of light emanated from the mouth of Vishnu, joined by similar outpourings of light from the enraged faces of the other gods.  This transformed into a woman, to whom all the gods transferred their own power.  Adishakti re-manifested as Durga in order to be able to slay Mahishasura, known as the demon Chand.

The Goddess both beautiful and terrible in her power was given a Lion to ride by Lord Himalaya, the God of the Great Mountains at the very top of the world above the valley where Banepa lay.  She returned with the gods to the forest of Banepa and rode out to the field of battle to face the Demon.

All the gods bestowed their gifts upon Durga and she rode the Lion armed with celestial weapons, bedecked with divine ornaments.

The entire army of Mahishasura attacked her together but she slew them all easily.  Their enraged leader, Chand himself then attacked her in the guise of a buffalo but she bound the beast with ropes.  The buffalo then transformed itself into a Lion and leapt upon the goddess, but Durga beheaded it with her sword. At this point, Mahishasura became a swordsman but Durga pinned him down with a torrent of arrows. The demon next assumed the form of an Elephant and restrained Durga's Lion, rendering it helpless. Durga cut off the trunk of the Elephant, thus freeing her Lion.  The demon transformed himself again into a Buffalo to charge at the Goddess.

Infuriated by his slippery nature and by his ability to transform again and again, Durga began to drink the potent rakshi made from rice, becoming wholly intoxicated.   In another version of the tale, it was the sacred Soma, the drink of the gods, for which she possesses an insatiable thirst, that she imbibed.   Filled with the glory of her own power and beauty, she began to laugh at him, hurling mountains at the demon and promising him that she would emerge from the battle victorious to bear his head to the gods in victory.  She then leapt across the battlefield and placed her foot upon the neck of the demon to prevent him from changing form again.  She then pierced him with her holy trident, beheading him at last and thus killing him.

At the site of the fierce battle on the big rocks along the river, visitors still can behold some of the marks of the conflict.  When he was killed, a lingam emerged from his belly and this has been worshipped ever since at the site.  The temple that stands at Chandeshwari today may have been built in the 17th century, but the sacred lingam and worship of the Great Goddess has been there since the dawn of time when the people of Nepal and the Gods were liberated from the awful might of the Demon.

'Devi Durga' is known as the Goddess of eternal power. Durga puja is an age-old festival and is celebrated with great fanfare all over the country. Goddess Durga is the vanquisher of all evil. Every year, Durga Puja is celebrated throughout the country and devotees pray to the Goddess and seek her blessings and protection.


The origins of Durga is told in different ways.  According to the Shiva Purana, Lord Shiva invoked the primordial energy from his left side to create Durga.  Together, they made an eternal home, Shivaloka or Kashi.  After that, they created Vishnu and Brahma.

The tale really begins with the asura named Rambha, father of Mahishasura.  Rambha evidently had offended the gods but performed his penance to Lord Agni.  Agni, who is the personification of one of the most primal powers, Fire itself, was pleased with the penance and granted the asura a boon to the effect that he would have a son who could not be killed by any god, man or animal.  Agni granted him the boon.

Rambha fell in love with a water buffalo named Mahishi who actually was a princess named Shyamala who had been transformed into an animal as a result of a curse.  The water buffalo evidently was pleased with his advances and together, they had a son named Mahishasura.   As the mother was a shapeshifter in a sense, Mahishasura was born with the power to transform himself into an animal, a very useful weapon as it proved.

His father told him of the boon granted by Agni but advised his son to visit Lord Brahma to have the powers ratified as it were.  Mashishasura dutifully followed his father's advice.  Lord Brahma, with some misgivings was forced to honour the provisions of the promise made by Agni and Mahishasura grew into adulthood knowing he never could be killed by a god, a man or any beast.

Mahishasura, as is often the case with demons, had little sense of responsibility towards others and unleashed a reign of terror upon the earth.  When the gods attempted to intervene, Mahishasura defeated them and succeeded in banishing them from heaven itself.  The vanquished gods went to Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva and narrated their tale of woe.  As they did so, an immense mass of light emanated from the mouth of Vishnu, joined by similar outpourings of light from the enraged faces of the other gods.  This transformed into a woman, to whom all the gods transferred their own power.  Adishakti re-manifested as Durga in order to be able to slay Mahishasure.  Armed with the celestial weapons of the gods and bedecked with divine ornaments, Durga rode onto the field of battle and challenged the demons.  The entire army of Mahishasura attacked her together but she slew them all easily.  Their enraged leader, Mashishasura himself, then attacked her in the guise of a buffalo but she bound the beast with ropes.  The buffalo then transformed itself into a Lion and leapt upon the goddess, but Durga beheaded it with her sword. At this point, Mahishasura became a swordsman but Durga pinned him down with a torrent of arrows. The demon next assumed the form of an Elephant and restrained Durga's Lion, rendering it helpless. Durga cut off the trunk of the Elephant, thus freeing her Lion.  The demon transformed himself again into a Buffalo to charge at the Goddess.  Sipping from a cup of wine to fortify herself, Durga flung her trident at the beast, beheading the demon and thus killing him.

Durga Puja is one of the most important Hindu festivals.  It honours the supreme Goddess Durga and is celebrated throughout India and Nepal.  It  is celebrated in different ways according to local customs and cultures, however.  Even the rituals performed during the Puja vary enormously.

The Puja commences on the day of the new moon during Navaratri.  The idols of Durga Maa are adorned with jewels and silk saris.  In some cultures, idols of Ganesha, Karthikeva and Shiva are decorated and consecrated beside the Goddess.

In another legend, Durga was created in order to destroy the invincible demon Mahishasura.  The unified powers of all the gods created a mass of fire and light from which a magnificent Goddess emerged.  By the light of Lord Shive, her face was created.  Lord Vishnu bestowed upon her his arms and Lord Brahma provided her legs.  She was blessed with all the powers of the gods and the Devi bestowed her powerful weapons upon her.  She was bedecked with priceless jewels, a silk sari and many garlands.  Maa Durga was given a Lion as her form of transport by Lord Himalaya, the God of the Mountains.  She then came to be known as Mahadevi, the Goddess Durga.

It was necessary to create a Goddess in order to slay the demon Mahishasura because of a boon granted by Brahma to the effect that the demon never could be destroyed either by a god or by a man. By creating the Mahadevi, neither god nor human, the gods made a saviour for the whole world.  On her fierce Lion, Goddess Durga rode towards the lair of Mahishasura.  After a fierce battle in the course of which the demon transformed himself again and again from Buffalo to Lion to Elephant and the form of a warrior, the Goddess managed to slay him.  Mahadevi thus became known as Mahishasura Mardhini, the slayer of Mahisshasura.


A Tourist's Photographs of the Temple and Villages

A rather fine and detailed description of the temple at Chandeshwari follows:

Originally Chandhonubik Bhagvati.  Balsakh-Purnima.  After this, the location became known as Chandeshwari, the site where the demon Chand was slain.  As an offering of thanks, the temple was dedicated to her and every year a festival is held on Baisakh-Purnima in memory of this event.  On that day,  a chariot procession with the implements from the Chandeshwari sanctum proceeds along the pathway between Banepa and Chandeshwari.    Chandeshwari is approached from Banepa along a stone paved pathway that runs roughly North-East through farmland and rice fields.  There is a fine view of the whole monument zone from a considerable distance.  The site is located on the right bank of a steeply sloping gorge and the opposite bank is well wooded.  A stream, cascading down the gorge forms small pools between the rocks at the foot of the temple precinct.

Below the temple are three ghats, a spring and various small sanctuaries including one dedicated to Hanuman.  From these loosely connected but sensitively placed buildings and sculptures there are fine views upwards towards the temple area which is accessible through a small gate at the top of a steeply ascending path.

The main entrance, guarded by lions,  is at the end of the paved path which proceeds from the southwest through the little hamlet of Chandeshwari.  In front of the gate is an open area with a path on the left side, a recently restored pond and several other features which mark it as a zone of divine protection.  There are a number of buildings located on either side of the pathway.  They are mostly settled on the nothern side, however.  The main structure of interest may be the Chandeshwari sanctum which is important because it houses the ceremonial implements used during the annual procession of the Chandshwari divinity to nearly Banepa and back.  This god house has recently been preserved against further dilapidation by the local people from Banepa and Chadeshwari.  The temple precinct property is an irregular rectangle which is enclosed on all sides.  Adjoining it on the west is a walled garden that stretches down the hill towards the ghats.  The north and east boundaries are formed by a brick building which was recently completed with open rooms on the ground floor serving as a pathi-some of which are used for meetings and pujas- and with open terraces on the upper floor.  From the northeast corner of the courtyard there is access to this roof terrace and the path from here leads to the stream down the hill.  In the southeast corner is a rather dilapidated two-story house made of brick.  A ruined brick wall completes the enclosure on the southern side.

Within the temple precinct, in front of the main entrance, a brick building dedicated to Chandeswari Mahadev was erected in the 18th A.D.  This temple which houses the image of Chandeshwari and Shiva - the master of the slayer of Chand- can be recognised by the image of Shiva's vehicle, Nand, the bull, who faces the entrance.  A wooden niche over the entrance contains the image of Nriteshwar and inside the temple a Shiva linga is worshipped daily.

The Chandeshwari temple itself stands further to the South of the bri

ck paved courtyard.  It is a three-tiered temple with a lion and a peacock on a column in front of the main entrance.  The toran over the doorway is richly carved and contains several gilded sculptures.  On each side of the entrance there is a small niche that  houses a protective divinity.

All the walls on the ground floor were covered in the early '80s with white glazed tiles.and circling the temple except for the southern side and part of the eastern side are rows of votive oil lamps set on a wooden frame at about 90 cm above plinth level.  On the western wall is a multi-coloured fresco of Bhairab which is repainted each year for the festival.  Within the sanctum of the temple is a free-standing image of the goddess Parvati wearing rich silver ornaments.  On the other remaining walls several other clay statues are also worshipped.

Most of the windows are finely carved and contain carved heads of different divinities.  The carved struts are of a special quality and represent the images of the ashtamarikas and the ashtabhairabs.  The two lower roofs are covered with the original roof tiles , while the upper roof is probably gilded cooper with bells hanging from the eaves.  This roof is capped with a gilded gujur.

Requiescat in Pace, Mark Wilden

I had two close friends who made my childhood bearable.  One was Mark Wilden.  The other broke the news that Mark may have died recently.  Sadly, Mark, a most stubborn individual, had terminated our correspondence very abruptly a few years ago after we had a political disagreement.  Politics, for God's sake!  How can that ever be as REAL as friendship?

For Mark, things were black and white for the most part.  He had to provoke life into certainty whenever possible.

When we last corresponded, I wrote of my own struggle with severe, chronic pain and physical disability that was fast narrowing my existence.  At that point, he was sympathetic but had not begun his own struggle.  Today I discovered that he battled with cancer for quite a long time.  He appears to have done so with the quirky sense of humour that he always possessed.   He did not lack for courage.

Mark Wilden was one of the most brilliant and eccentric individuals I have known.  The description of 'an incisive mind' personified Mark's intellect.

For those who did not know Mark personally, his own words provide a little clue as to his personality:

'I seem to have a talent for wanting to do obviously desirable things that are either not implemented at all or explained badly.'

I met him for the first time in Mr. Hollenbach's classroom at La Jolla Elementary School. Both he and I had returned one summer to that classroom to visit our favourite teacher.   We connected instantly.  He was one of the most beautiful boys I ever saw and one of the most fascinating intellectually.  Although he was in my sister's class and not mine, we were almost the same age because of the grades I had skipped.  It was one of the reasons he and Don saved me from utter alienation, because the students in my own grade were so much older than I and my mother never allowed me to participate in their social events or 'rites of passage'.  With the Motley Crew, the acting company and circle of friends that consisted mainly of a few members of the 'gifted students' in my sister's grade, I was able to enjoy being a child.  Even then, Mark had a propensity for mischief and the ability to be infuriating but our friendship was beyond price.

He embraced my fantasies wholeheartedly.  We used to leave notes to one another in ciphers we invented in Butler's Lives of the Saints at the La Jolla Library.  That cloak-and-dagger stuff as well as the business of writing in code appealed to us both.  We prowled the streets of sleepy La Jolla with our fencing sabres, wearing makeshift capes, seeking worthy quests.  When one day, to our immense surprise and delight, we encountered a grown man wearing a cloak, we knelt before him, crying out in Latin our willingness to follow him in performing acts of chivalry to right all wrongs in the contemporary world.  The poor guy didn't know how to respond!  One saw a great deal of pseudo-medieval fashion among the 'flower children' in those days.    He did respond with a good grace, to his credit, actually, and I think was quite amused, although he did not mock us at all.

I confess I was surprised when Mark became a Roman Catholic very briefly, declaring it was for my sake, although I never would have asked that of him.  My own religion is fairly multi-faceted, embracing pagan beliefs along with those of the Roman Catholic faith.  Like Oscar Wilde, I find the trappings irresistable and it is the grandeur of the great Cathedrals, the scent of incense and the acknowledgement of a Goddess in the form of the Blessed Virgin that keep me at Mass..   Not as surprised when Mark threw out the baby with the bathwater, after demanding scientific proof of every verse and tenet that could not be had.  I do not think he ever accepted the concept of Faith, nor could he accept the difference between religion based upon universal myth and one based on literalism.  He had to be a fundamentalist or reject it completely.  I hope he has been proven wrong though and that there is existence after this one, even if it is not what any of us ever have envisioned!  I would hate to think of Mark Wilden being no more.

Selfishly perhaps, I regret the break in communication during the past few years.  I have lost far too many close and dear friends but most were older than I and older than Mark.  Their deaths, while still a terrible shock and blow in many cases, could have been foreseen.  Not so with Mark.  It grieves me most, however, to discover how long he suffered.  Death is one thing.  I think often, in my own narrow circle of pain, of Swinburne's declaration: 'For there is no God found stronger than Death and Death is a Sleep.'  Slumber is so often denied to those of us who suffer chronic severe pain and therefore, sometimes Death appears to be a promise of ultimate Salvation in the form of Peace.  It is the thought of Mark's suffering that hurts me even more than the thought of his Death.

From a distance, I only have been able to see that his wife was a source of great strength during this, a true helpmeet.  

All considerations of religion aside, I do know that Death never should be perceived as a punishment nor is life any sort of reward for merit.  Mark did not deserve his death nor do those who loved him or indeed the Earth itself deserve his loss.  May he rest in peace, after his long struggle with pain.

Swinburne, my favourite poet once wrote a dialogue with Death:

DEATH, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would be,
Death, if thou wit?

No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre's heft or swordblade's hilt.

Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even thus much to see,
Death, if thou wilt?

II
Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion? Nay, behold and see,
Man, what art thou?

Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my seedlings? Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must bow.

Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of thee,
Man, what art thou ?

III
Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
Death, if thou be.

Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth and sea.

Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
Death, if thou be.

The Hagoita

(Photo of  seasonal Hagoita Market)

Although I visited Japan as a child and was utterly enthralled with it, I did not really study Japanese culture in depth.  I felt that, as a child of Northern Europe, it was more important to become as educated as possible in my own ethnic background, in the traditions of the Gods of the North.  My own daughter is named Freya for a very good reason!

Nonetheless, I always believed that mythology IS universal and the way to Truth is through the study of every road that has the same signposts upon it.  One can understand the old Eddic poems best if one knows the various myths that show similar features throughout the centuuries and throughout the world.  Loki does not stand alone as the Trickster God.  There is a Trickster in Native American cultures and indeed, when I studied the cultures of the Plains Indians in particular, I found amazing similarities between their traditions and those of the Vikings.  The berserker for example is as much a part of Native American religion as of Scandinavia.  There were Bear Lodges in both cultures and the shapeshifter, whether into Wolf or Bear, is common to both.

Recently, however, my involvement in Japanese games rekindled an interest in Japan in general.  Harvest Moon introduced me to many of the festivals of Japan.  Animal Crossing, with its goal of collecting items of all kinds, from furniture to decorative items, brought some new and wondrous symbolic items into my life, first in virtual form but ultimately in their real forms.

I first encountered the Hagoita in Animal Crossing.  A friend of mine came to my village with gifts of some rare items not sold by any local merchants and indeed, never offered for sale.  The only way to obtain them is by attending a specific festival, often in a specific part of the world, or by being given the item by a friend as I was.  Among these items was a Hagoita.

My friend did not know what it was, in fact, but found it very attractive.  When I attempted to study the tiny miniature virtual item, I only could see that it resembled a folded fan more than anything else with some ornaments on cords attached to it.  In fact, it is a very significant item in Japanese culture and represents a badminton paddle.    The little items that sometimes accompany it are two 'birdies'.

Oriuginally, the Hagoita was a rectangular paddle used to play a badminton-like game called hanetsuki.  This game was played only by girls at the New Year. It therefore must have been a game fraught with religious significance, much like the swinging games found throughout the world in Spring.  There are two possible sacrificial components to this game.  The first is the 'birdie' hit by the paddle.  In many ancient cultures, birds were sacrificed to the Goddess.  Birds represent the soul as well.

The second sacrificial component is the player.  I was interested to discover that, whenever a girl missed the birdie, a black ink stripe was drawn on her face.  The girl whose face was filled with stripes ultimately was the one who lost the match.  It is possible that this originally represented an ancient sacrifice of a virgin, chosen through a game rather than a practice of drawing lots.

Musings on the ancient Orphic tradition

From the Orphic traditions:

'Thou shalt find to the left of the House of Hades a spring,
And by the side thereof standing a white cypress.
To this spring approach not near.
But thou shalt find another, from the Lake of Memory
Cold water flowing forth, and there are guardians before it.
Say, 'I am a child of Earth and starry Heaven;
But my race is of Heaven (alone). This ye know yourselves.
But I am parched with thirst and I perish. Give me quickly
The cold water flowing forth from the Lake of Memory.'
And of themselves they will give thee to drink of the holy spring-
And thereafter among the other heroes thou shalt have lordship.

[Plate from Eleuthernai in Crete, second century B.C.]

I am parched with thirst and I perish-Nay, drink of me (or, But give me to drink of)
The ever-flowing spring on the right, where the cypress is.
Who art thou?.....
Whence art thou?-I am the son of Earth and starry Heaven.



[Plate from Thurii, South Italy, fourth-third century B.C.]

But so soon as the spirit hath left the light of the sun,
Go to the right as far as one should go, being right wary in all things.
Hail, thou who hast suffered the suffering. This thou hadst never suffered before.
Thou art become god from man.
A kid thou art fallen into milk.
Hail, hail to thee journeying the right hand road
By holy meadows and groves of Persephone.

[Three more tablets from Thurii, of roughly the same date as the previous One. ]

I come from the pure, pure Queen of those below,
And Eukles and Eubuleus, and other Gods and Daemons.
For I also avow that I am of your blessed race.
And I have paid the- penalty for deeds unrighteous,
Whether it be that Fate laid me low or the gods immortal
Or . . . with star-flung thunderbolt.
I have flown out of the sorrowful, weary circle.
I have passed with swift feet to the diadem desired.
I have sunk beneath the bosom of the Mistress, the Queen of the
underworld.
And now I come a suppliant to holy Persephoneia,
That of her grace she send men to the seats of the Hallowed.
Happy and blessed one, thou shalt be god instead of mortal.
A kid I have fallen into milk.'

From Mircea Eliade

As these are engraved funerary plates, one tends to believe that they represent the Orphic devotions far more accurately than anything written by writers of the time, whether as detractors or supposed devotees.  After all, one of the fundamental principles of any mystery religion is its secrecy.  Only true devotees of the faith are allowed to learn the rites and usually forbidden to speak or write of it.  How then should we take anything that has been written about the rites of Adonis, Attis or Dionysus seriously?  As I have come to believe that Jesus was himself part of this ancient tradition, I have come to feel that the so-called 'New Testament' is lacking in veracity.  Every one who wrote about him had his own 'axe to grind' or political agenda.  His Jewish disciples wanted him to be part of the Jewish religion and therefore grafted verses from the Old Testament to their narratives.  Saul aka Paul was the worst of the lot.  A convert from Judaism himself, he possessed the usual fanaticism of the convert, seeking to prove himself more devoted than any of the individuals who actually KNEW the Christ.

These Orphic testaments deal with life after death and the choice of destination.  There are two springs.  Only one is the true 'spring of Memory'.  Like the Well of Mimir, in which Odhinn placed the eye he himself sacrificed, the spring of Memory gives the one who imbibes from it extraordinary vision.  That is simple enough to comprehend.  More difficult is the familiar but cryptic utterance of: 'A kid I have fallen into milk'.

This forms part of the Dionysian tradition as well.  What does it signify?  It is interesting to note here that one of the Celtic rites of royal sacrifice required the king to be boiled in a cauldron of milk.  Milk, of course is, far more than water, the giver of life to the newly born.  Perhaps this is why one of the scenes in the Villa of the Mysteries shows a kid suckling from the breast of a Nymph.

In many myths, a hero is nurtured by an animal as in the case of Romulus and Remus who were nursed by a she-wolf.   This is mirrored in tales from many other cultures and is not any kind of secret history.  The idea of an animal being nursed by a human woman is, however, more arcane.  It is only when one equates the god himself with the animal that it makes sense.  Dionysus often is depicted as a kid or associated with the kid.  There are accounts of clothing a kid or calf in buskins to resemble the god before sacrificing him.

Here is the account by Frazer:

'Another animal whose form Dionysus assumed was the goat. One of his names was “Kid.” At Athens and at Hermion he was worshipped under the title of “the one of the Black Goatskin,” and a legend ran that on a certain occasion he had appeared clad in the skin from which he took the title. In the wine-growing district of Phlius, where in autumn the plain is still thickly mantled with the red and golden foliage of the fading vines, there stood of old a bronze image of a goat, which the husbandmen plastered with gold-leaf as a means of protecting their vines against blight. The image probably represented the vine-god himself. To save him from the wrath of Hera, his father Zeus changed the youthful Dionysus into a kid; and when the gods fled to Egypt to escape the fury of Typhon, Dionysus was turned into a goat. Hence when his worshippers rent in pieces a live goat and devoured it raw, they must have believed that they were eating the body and blood of the god. The custom of tearing in pieces the bodies of animals and of men and then devouring them raw has been practised as a religious rite by savages in modern times. We need not therefore dismiss as a fable the testimony of antiquity to the observance of similar rites among the frenzied worshippers of Bacchus.	8
The custom of killing a god in animal form, which we shall examine more in detail further on, belongs to a very early stage of human culture, and is apt in later times to be misunderstood. The advance of thought tends to strip the old animal and plant gods of their bestial and vegetable husk, and to leave their human attributes (which are always the kernel of the conception) as the final and sole residuum. In other words, animal and plant gods tend to become purely anthropomorphic. When they have become wholly or nearly so, the animals and plants which were at first the deities themselves, still retain a vague and ill-understood connexion with the anthropomorphic gods who have developed out of them. The origin of the relationship between the deity and the animal or plant having been forgotten, various stories are invented to explain it. These explanations may follow one of two lines according as they are based on the habitual or on the exceptional treatment of the sacred animal or plant. The sacred animal was habitually spared, and only exceptionally slain; and accordingly the myth might be devised to explain either why it was spared or why it was killed. Devised for the former purpose, the myth would tell of some service rendered to the deity by the animal; devised for the latter purpose, the myth would tell of some injury inflicted by the animal on the god. The reason given for sacrificing goats to Dionysus exemplifies a myth of the latter sort. They were sacrificed to him, it was said, because they injured the vine. Now the goat, as we have seen, was originally an embodiment of the god himself. But when the god had divested himself of his animal character and had become essentially anthropomorphic, the killing of the goat in his worship came to be regarded no longer as a slaying of the deity himself, but as a sacrifice offered to him; and since some reason had to be assigned why the goat in particular should be sacrificed, it was alleged that this was a punishment inflicted on the goat for injuring the vine, the object of the god’s especial care. Thus we have the strange spectacle of a god sacrificed to himself on the ground that he is his own enemy. And as the deity is supposed to partake of the victim offered to him, it follows that, when the victim is the god’s old self, the god eats of his own flesh. Hence the goat-god Dionysus is represented as eating raw goat’s blood; and the bull-god Dionysus is called “eater of bulls.” On the analogy of these instances we may conjecture that wherever a deity is described as the eater of a particular animal, the animal in question was originally nothing but the deity himself. Later on we shall find that some savages propitiate dead bears and whales by offering them portions of their own bodies.	9
All this, however, does not explain why a deity of vegetation should appear in animal form. But the consideration of that point had better be deferred till we have discussed the character and attributes of Demeter. Meantime it remains to mention that in some places, instead of an animal, a human being was torn in pieces at the rites of Dionysus. This was the practice in Chios and Tenedos; and at Potniae in Boeotia the tradition ran that it had been formerly the custom to sacrifice to the goat-smiting Dionysus a child, for whom a goat was afterwards substituted. At Orchomenus, as we have seen, the human victim was taken from the women of an old royal family. As the slain bull or goat represented the slain god, so, we may suppose, the human victim also represented him.'

It may be useful to read the rest of Frazaer's account of Dionysus to find comparisons with the Christ:

'IN THE PRECEDING chapters we saw that in antiquity the civilised nations of Western Asia and Egypt pictured to themselves the changes of the seasons, and particularly the annual growth and decay of vegetation, as episodes in the life of gods, whose mournful death and happy resurrection they celebrated with dramatic rites of alternate lamentation and rejoicing. But if the celebration was in form dramatic, it was in substance magical; that is to say, it was intended, on the principles of sympathetic magic, to ensure the vernal regeneration of plants and the multiplication of animals, which had seemed to be menaced by the inroads of winter. In the ancient world, however, such ideas and such rites were by no means confined to the Oriental peoples of Babylon and Syria, of Phrygia and Egypt; they were not a product peculiar to the religious mysticism of the dreamy East, but were shared by the races of livelier fancy and more mercurial temperament who inhabited the shores and islands of the Aegean. We need not, with some enquirers in ancient and modern times, suppose that these Western peoples borrowed from the older civilisation of the Orient the conception of the Dying and Reviving God, together with the solemn ritual, in which that conception was dramatically set forth before the eyes of the worshippers. More probably the resemblance which may be traced in this respect between the religions of the East and West is no more than what we commonly, though incorrectly, call a fortuitous coincidence, the effect of similar causes acting alike on the similar constitution of the human mind in different countries and under different skies. The Greek had no need to journey into far countries to learn the vicissitudes of the seasons, to mark the fleeting beauty of the damask rose, the transient glory of the golden corn, the passing splendour of the purple grapes. Year by year in his own beautiful land he beheld, with natural regret, the bright pomp of summer fading into the gloom and stagnation of winter, and year by year he hailed with natural delight the outburst of fresh life in spring. Accustomed to personify the forces of nature, to tinge her cold abstractions with the warm hues of imagination, to clothe her naked realities with the gorgeous drapery of a mythic fancy, he fashioned for himself a train of gods and goddesses, of spirits and elves, out of the shifting panorama of the seasons, and followed the annual fluctuations of their fortunes with alternate emotions of cheerfulness and dejection, of gladness and sorrow, which found their natural expression in alternate rites of rejoicing and lamentation, of revelry and mourning. A consideration of some of the Greek divinities who thus died and rose again from the dead may furnish us with a series of companion pictures to set side by side with the sad figures of Adonis, Attis, and Osiris. We begin with Dionysus.	1
The god Dionysus or Bacchus is best known to us as a personification of the vine and of the exhilaration produced by the juice of the grape. His ecstatic worship, characterised by wild dances, thrilling music, and tipsy excess, appears to have originated among the rude tribes of Thrace, who were notoriously addicted to drunkenness. Its mystic doctrines and extravagant rites were essentially foreign to the clear intelligence and sober temperament of the Greek race. Yet appealing as it did to that love of mystery and that proneness to revert to savagery which seem to be innate in most men, the religion spread like wildfire through Greece until the god whom Homer hardly deigned to notice had become the most popular figure of the pantheon. The resemblance which his story and his ceremonies present to those of Osiris have led some enquirers both in ancient and modern times to hold that Dionysus was merely a disguised Osiris, imported directly from Egypt into Greece. But the great preponderance of evidence points to his Thracian origin, and the similarity of the two worships is sufficiently explained by the similarity of the ideas and customs on which they were founded.	2
While the vine with its clusters was the most characteristic manifestation of Dionysus, he was also a god of trees in general. Thus we are told that almost all the Greeks sacrificed to “Dionysus of the tree.” In Boeotia one of his titles was “Dionysus in the tree.” His image was often merely an upright post, without arms, but draped in a mantle, with a bearded mask to represent the head, and with leafy boughs projecting from the head or body to show the nature of the deity. On a vase his rude effigy is depicted appearing out of a low tree or bush. At Magnesia on the Maeander an image of Dionysus is said to have been found in a plane-tree, which had been broken by the wind. He was the patron of cultivated trees: prayers were offered to him that he would make the trees grow; and he was especially honoured by husbandmen, chiefly fruit-growers, who set up an image of him, in the shape of a natural tree-stump, in their orchards. He was said to have discovered all tree-fruits, amongst which apples and figs are particularly mentioned; and he was referred to as “well-fruited,” “he of the green fruit,” and “making the fruit to grow.” One of his titles was “teeming” or “bursting” (as of sap or blossoms); and there was a Flowery Dionysus in Attica and at Patrae in Achaia. The Athenians sacrificed to him for the prosperity of the fruits of the land. Amongst the trees particularly sacred to him, in addition to the vine, was the pine-tree. The Delphic oracle commanded the Corinthians to worship a particular pine-tree “equally with the god,” so they made two images of Dionysus out of it, with red faces and gilt bodies. In art a wand, tipped with a pine-cone, is commonly carried by the god or his worshippers. Again, the ivy and the fig-tree were especially associated with him. In the Attic township of Acharnae there was a Dionysus Ivy; at Lacedaemon there was a Fig Dionysus; and in Naxos, where figs were called meilicha, there was a Dionysus Meilichios, the face of whose image was made of fig-wood.	3
Further, there are indications, few but significant, that Dionysus was conceived as a deity of agriculture and the corn. He is spoken of as himself doing the work of a husbandman: he is reported to have been the first to yoke oxen to the plough, which before had been dragged by hand alone; and some people found in this tradition the clue to the bovine shape in which, as we shall see, the god was often supposed to present himself to his worshippers. Thus guiding the ploughshare and scattering the seed as he went, Dionysus is said to have eased the labour of the husbandman. Further, we are told that in the land of the Bisaltae, a Thracian tribe, there was a great and fair sanctuary of Dionysus, where at his festival a bright light shone forth at night as a token of an abundant harvest vouchsafed by the diety; but if the crops were to fail that year, the mystic light was not seen, darkness brooded over the sanctuary as at other times. Moreover, among the emblems of Dionysus was the winnowing-fan, that is the large open shovel-shaped basket, which down to modern times has been used by farmers to separate the grain from the chaff by tossing the corn in the air. This simple agricultural instrument figured in the mystic rites of Dionysus; indeed the god is traditionally said to have been placed at birth in a winnowing-fan as in a cradle: in art he is represented as an infant so cradled; and from these traditions and representations he derived the epithet of Liknites, that is, “He of the Winnowing-fan.”	4
Like other gods of vegetation Dionysus was believed to have died a violent death, but to have been brought to life again; and his sufferings, death, and resurrection were enacted in his sacred rites. His tragic story is thus told by the poet Nonnus. Zeus in the form of a serpent visited Persephone, and she bore him Zagreus, that is, Dionysus, a horned infant. Scarcely was he born, when the babe mounted the throne of his father Zeus and mimicked the great god by brandishing the lightning in his tiny hand. But he did not occupy the throne long; for the treacherous Titans, their faces whitened with chalk, attacked him with knives while he was looking at himself in a mirror. For a time he evaded their assaults by turning himself into various shapes, assuming the likeness successively of Zeus and Cronus, of a young man, of a lion, a horse, and a serpent. Finally, in the form of a bull, he was cut to pieces by the murderous knives of his enemies. His Cretan myth, as related by Firmicus Maternus, ran thus. He was said to have been the bastard son of Jupiter, a Cretan king. Going abroad, Jupiter transferred the throne and sceptre to the youthful Dionysus, but, knowing that his wife Juno cherished a jealous dislike of the child, he entrusted Dionysus to the care of guards upon whose fidelity he believed he could rely. Juno, however, bribed the guards, and amusing the child with rattles and a cunningly-wrought looking glass lured him into an ambush, where her satellites, the Titans, rushed upon him, cut him limb from limb, boiled his body with various herbs, and ate it. But his sister Minerva, who had shared in the deed, kept his heart and gave it to Jupiter on his return, revealing to him the whole history of the crime. In his rage, Jupiter put the Titans to death by torture, and, to soothe his grief for the loss of his son, made an image in which he enclosed the child’s heart, and then built a temple in his honour. In this version a Euhemeristic turn has been given to the myth by representing Jupiter and Juno (Zeus and Hera) as a king and queen of Crete. The guards referred to are the mythical Curetes who danced a war-dance round the infant Dionysus, as they are said to have done round the infant Zeus. Very noteworthy is the legend, recorded both by Nonnus and Firmicus, that in his infancy Dionysus occupied for a short time the throne of his father Zeus. So Proclus tells us that “Dionysus was the last king of the gods appointed by Zeus. For his father set him on the kingly throne, and placed in his hand the sceptre, and made him king of all the gods of the world.” Such traditions point to a custom of temporarily investing the king’s son with the royal dignity as a preliminary to sacrificing him instead of his father. Pomegranates were supposed to have sprung from the blood of Dionysus, as anemones from the blood of Adonis and violets from the blood of Attis: hence women refrained from eating seeds of pomegranates at the festival of the Thesmophoria. According to some, the severed limbs of Dionysus were pieced together, at the command of Zeus, by Apollo, who buried them on Parnassus. The grave of Dionysus was shown in the Delphic temple beside a golden statue of Apollo. However, according to another account, the grave of Dionysus was at Thebes, where he is said to have been torn in pieces. Thus far the resurrection of the slain god is not mentioned, but in other versions of the myth it is variously related. According to one version, which represented Dionysus as a son of Zeus and Demeter, his mother pieced together his mangled limbs and made him young again. In others it is simply said that shortly after his burial he rose from the dead and ascended up to heaven; or that Zeus raised him up as he lay mortally wounded; or that Zeus swallowed the heart of Dionysus and then begat him afresh by Semele, who in the common legend figures as mother of Dionysus. Or, again, the heart was pounded up and given in a potion to Semele, who thereby conceived him.	5
Turning from the myth to the ritual, we find that the Cretans celebrated a biennial festival at which the passion of Dionysus was represented in every detail. All that he had done or suffered in his last moments was enacted before the eyes of his worshippers, who tore a live bull to pieces with their teeth and roamed the woods with frantic shouts. In front of them was carried a casket supposed to contain the sacred heart of Dionysus, and to the wild music of flutes and cymbals they mimicked the rattles by which the infant god had been lured to his doom. Where the resurrection formed part of the myth, it also was acted at the rites, and it even appears that a general doctrine of resurrection, or at least of immortality, was inculcated on the worshippers; for Plutarch, writing to console his wife on the death of their infant daughter, comforts her with the thought of the immortality of the soul as taught by tradition and revealed in the mysteries of Dionysus. A different form of the myth of the death and resurrection of Dionysus is that he descended into Hades to bring up his mother Semele from the dead. The local Argive tradition was that he went down through the Alcyonian lake; and his return from the lower world, in other words his resurrection, was annually celebrated on the spot by the Argives, who summoned him from the water by trumpet blasts, while they threw a lamb into the lake as an offering to the warder of the dead. Whether this was a spring festival does not appear, but the Lydians certainly celebrated the advent of Dionysus in spring; the god was supposed to bring the season with him. Deities of vegetation, who are believed to pass a certain portion of each year underground, naturally come to be regarded as gods of the lower world or of the dead. Both Dionysus and Osiris were so conceived.	6
A feature in the mythical character of Dionysus, which at first sight appears inconsistent with his nature as a deity of vegetation, is that he was often conceived and represented in animal shape, especially in the form, or at least with the horns, of a bull. Thus he is spoken of as “cow-born,” “bull,” “bull-shaped,” “bull-faced,” “bull-browed,” “bull-horned,” “horn-bearing,” “two-horned,” “horned.” He was believed to appear, at least occasionally, as a bull. His images were often, as at Cyzicus, made in bull shape, or with bull horns; and he was painted with horns. Types of the horned Dionysus are found amongst the surviving monuments of antiquity. On one statuette he appears clad in a bull’s hide, the head, horns, and hoofs hanging down behind. Again, he is represented as a child with clusters of grapes round his brow, and a calf’s head, with sprouting horns, attached to the back of his head. On a red-figured vase the god is portrayed as a calf-headed child seated on a woman’s lap. The people of Cynaetha held a festival of Dionysus in winter, when men, who had greased their bodies with oil for the occasion, used to pick out a bull from the herd and carry it to the sanctuary of the god. Dionysus was supposed to inspire their choice of the particular bull, which probably represented the deity himself; for at his festivals he was believed to appear in bull form. The women of Elis hailed him as a bull, and prayed him to come with his bull’s foot. They sang, “Come hither, Dionysus, to thy holy temple by the sea; come with the Graces to thy temple, rushing with thy bull’s foot, O goodly bull, O goodly bull!” The Bacchanals of Thrace wore horns in imitation of their god. According to the myth, it was in the shape of a bull that he was torn to pieces by the Titans; and the Cretans, when they acted the sufferings and death of Dionysus, tore a live bull to pieces with their teeth. Indeed, the rending and devouring of live bulls and calves appear to have been a regular feature of the Dionysiac rites. When we consider the practice of portraying the god as a bull or with some of the features of the animal, the belief that he appeared in bull form to his worshippers at the sacred rites, and the legend that in bull form he had been torn in pieces, we cannot doubt that in rending and devouring a live bull at his festival the worshippers of Dionysus believed themselves to be killing the god, eating his flesh, and drinking his blood.'		7

None of the books of the New Testament were written during the life of Christ.  None of them were READ by him or approved by him.  Why then do we accept them as 'gospel'?  There really is nothing to support such a conclusion.

If, however, we access what little we know of the ancient mystery religions of the area, a far more accurate presentation of the life and sacrifice of Christ is possible.

First of all, there is a native mystery cult known as the Nazarites or Nazarenes.  Christ exhibited all the traits of a Nazarene and was declared to be one by the New Testament.  Samson was a Nazarite or Nazarene  They believed their strength to be in their hair and therefore never cut it.  They lived a life of celibacy.  A woman could become a Nazarine, so long as she had the consent of the male head of her household, whether that be her father, her son or her husband.  A child could be dedicated to the Nazarines while still within the womb.  Thus, Jesus was dedicated to the Nazarines while still within the Virgin Mary's womb.  I expect she herself was a Nazarine.

What I did not realise until I actually studied the cult was that its duration varied according to the vow taken.  Samson was a Nazarine for life but ordinarily, a vow could be made that could last as little as a day or as long as 'there are grains of sand on the shore'.  The vow having been made, it could not be cancelled except by royal or priestly decree until the time set elapsed.

The son of David named Absolom was a Nazarite and his death by hanging from the bough of a tree probably actually was a royal rite of sacrifice as opposed to the gloss given in the Old Testament, that he was punished by God for his rebellion against his father. 

Evidently, the cult predates the invasion of the Hebrews into Palestine and originally, there were no prohibitions against consumption of the 'fruit of the grape' nor of contact with the dead.  These are Jewish laws.  The ability to limit the time frame of belonging to the cult is a later innovation as well.  In the days of Samson, the Nazarite vow was a lifetime one.  He was another Nazarite who was dedicated to the cult while still within the womb.  His mother was a Nazarite.

Samson's name is derived from the ancient word for the 'Sun'.  The Sun God was named 'Shams' and in Arabic the word still signifies the Sun.  He therefore was either a god or a representative of the God on Earth.  His death by being buried by the temple he himself pulled down has to be another case of a royal sacrifice. 

Traditions of Spring: Cherry Blossoms, Peach Blossoms, Martisor and the Wearing of the Green

The advent of the Spring season, internationally, has more popular traditions and festivals attached to it than the onset of Summer.  It was more significant in a sense to the ancients, as it was the time when Death was vanquished by Life, when the Earth and all its creatures and plants were revitalised and reborn.

In March, there are a number of popular festivals that still are celebrated in various regions.  In Japan, there are the festivals that are connected to the blossoming of the Cherry and Plum trees.  Among them is Girls' Day or Hina-matsuri.  In Eastern Europe, there is the festival of Martisor, connected to the blossoming of the Snowdrops.  In Celtic Europe, there is St. Patrick's Day, connected to the Shamrock or Four-Leaf Clover and the wearing of the colour Green.  The latter became politically charged at one point in history but began as a symbol of Life and Fertility.

I have been doing more research on Japanese traditions and dolls recently than on Martisor and St. Patrick's Day and in the course of doing so, realised once again how much Japanese feminine traditions are synonymous with beauty and grace and male culture is synonymous with honour and courage.  There is, of course, grace and beauty, honour and courage in the ideals of both genders.  Western civilisation had much of this as well, but Japanese culture was far more rigid for far longer in history, partly because of the cult of the Emperor and the rejection of outside influences.  This created a very rigid definition of all aspects of art and culture and indeed, in its negative form, too much of an expectation of perfection.  I do believe that the high rate of adolescent suicide in Japan may be the result of this where, in the West, we almost expect that our children will experiment with life, change their minds and goals more than once and perhaps trip once or twice before they succeed and attain happiness.

It was a bit startling to me as well to discover how much of our Western interest in dolls may have been inspired by Japanese doll traditions.  In Japan for centuries, dolls were far more than toys for children.  Originally imbued with spirit, much like 'voodoo dolls' or 'poppets', they were created to be set afloat on running water, to be borne away from the life of the person each represented.  That tradition may have been the origin of the Hina-matsuri Festival in ancient times.  There still are regions in Japan where dolls are set afloat on lakes or rivers or even sent into the sea.  Unfortunately, this tradition resulted in a number of dolls being tangled in fishermen's nets and it thus became rather unpopular.

I believe that the newer tradition of displaying a set of dolls that represents the Emperor, Empress and their court probably had something to do with ancestor worship as well as the old belief that the Emperor was descended from the Goddess of the Sun and therefore to some extent her agent on earth.  Another reason, apart from the propaganda value to the royal family may have been the desire to preserve native Japanese traditions, culture and fashions after the appearance of Perry and the threat of Western cultural invasion.   A full Hina display is much more than a group of dolls.  It consists of food items, trees with symbolic significance, weapons, food, tools and even transport.

In the Metropolitan Museum iin New York, some rooms devoted to the civilisation of ancient Egypt have elaborate displays of grave goods that consist of entire villages with small dolls that are busy performing the various tasks that occupy human lives on Earth.  Fascinating and well-worth a visit!  The reason for these was to provide the deceased with everything he/she would need in the afterlife, including housing, a working economy and slaves.  I meantion it because a full Hina display, although never associated with tombs or the afterlife, reminds me a bit of the ancient Egyptian miniature villages.

Enough of those musings, however.  March in many ancient cultures was the first month of the year.  The Asian Lunar New Year is closer to the ancient New Year than our solar one.

The first flower of the year in Northern European traditions is the Snowdrop and Martisor's most popular symbol perhaps is the Snowdrop.

In my own life, the Snowdrop represents the first flower that I ever planted in my own garden, even though I was not the owner of the land.  About two decades ago, I found some snowdrops growing wild in an old churchyard and took a few of the bulbs home to plant behind the house.  As the years passed, the clusters of snowdrops increased.  I took a few to plant beneath the weeping cherry tree at the new house but when the owner decided to build a new patio late last Spring, the workers ignored my pleas to save my little bulbs.  They rather coldly insisted that I could buy new ones and did not comprehend why that would not do.  In fact, the Snowdrop really is a wildflower and it is not common to find them in nurseries.

This has been a particularly brutal Winter and I could not even see the ground beneath the weeping cherry until this week began.  Although snow still lies deep in certain corners of the garden, the area beneath the Cherry is mostly clear.  My heart leapt a little when I found a single Snowdrop beginning to bloom there.

I had planted far more but it is amazing that even one survived.  When I returned briefly to the old house this morning, I was surprised and delighted to see that my Snowdrops there had multiplied, despite the fact that I had taken a couple of large clumps from there last year.