Baphomet. (And Bono)

Search terms. I don’t know much about SEOs and the like. Those sorts of emails/’comments’ that thinly disguise advertisements for companies that do know all about such things end up in the spam folder and are all deleted. I have written about a few peculiarities that have popped up now and again, but I’m kinda wondering what’s up with people right now. Every day for the past week or more, the same search term keeps on showing up on the stats page.

It’s there again today. Twice.

I did write about Baphomet- in a particular context- not all that long ago. So okay. Fair enough. The search engine brings people- who happen to be looking for the guy- here. But it seems like a whole lot of people are looking for info about a 14th century construct lately.

Weird.

Perhaps that damned movie about a fictional code was on tv again.

While we were visiting Scotland I insisted that we pay a visit to that little chapel that shows up at the end of the damned movie (and the even more damned book that inspired the damned movie).

Small (okay, LARGE) aside- in case some of you might be wondering why I am so against Dan Brown and That Damned Book (TDB, from now on)…

1) he ripped off the idea from a bunch of ‘journalists’ who came up with the (fictional) story without any level of thought about actual historical veracity;

2) the writing is pretty much uniformly bad, but the ending is just plain terrible;

3) TDB is so filled with scientific and historical inaccuracies that I just can’t even…,

4) it has fed the never-ending and voracious appetites of conspiracy idiots across the globe (who certainly needed no new fodder);

and

5) his main character is a professor in an academic discipline that doesn’t exist. Semiotics is an academic discipline. Symbology is not. Semioticians study signs and symbols as elements of communication and behaviour, focusing on the relationship of the signifier and the signified, using linguistics and psychology to identify the ways in which symbols are used to construct meaning. Symbologists study nothing. Because they don’t exist.

Oh. And also because TDB was turned into TDM, and, as a result, I actually hated a movie that starred Tom Hanks. Which is terrible. Because Tom Hanks is lovely.

Admittedly, it did bring a number of people to my classrooms over the years. Either because they were looking for evidence that the RC Church hadn’t lied to them all these years, or because they thought that an examination of the non-canonical Xian writings would demonstrate that TDB was right all along. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to set minds at ease in the first group (the Church has told more than its fair share of lies) and the primary sources and historical evidence we have does not, in any way, point to anything in TDB being at all accurate. Historically speaking.

End rant.

So.  You could ask, legitimately, why would I want to visit Rosslyn Chapel – just outside of Edinburgh- if I loathe TDB/M so much?

Well. Quite simply because it’s beyond lovely and the story of the Chapel and its restoration is way more interesting than anything a hack novelist could dream up.

I loved it there. At the end of a long day touring some of Scotland’s most historic sites- Bannockburn and Stirling Castle were just two of the stops- we were coping with a fair bit of history overload (yes, it can happen. Even to me) when we arrived at Rosslyn. The site, for all its historical value, overwhelms with its beauty and the intricacy of the carvings, yet is a place that lends itself to quiet reflection.

And, since I do like the actual history of groups like the Masons, the Chapel provides some interesting evidence of the traditions and symbols associated with that storied Brotherhood. I bought a matted rubbing of some of the Masonic symbols that are found in the Chapel, as a matter of fact (have yet to get it framed. Which, since I had to go looking for a stock photo of the Chapel because I haven’t started sorting through the photos we took, isn’t really all that surprising).

As we sat in the Chapel, listening to the guide talk a bit about its history, its resident cat, William, popped in to say hello to everyone. He made straight for my lap (as is generally the case with most small creatures. I tend to attract animals), and was a purring mass of black and white fur who enhanced the story we were being told immensely. Nothing like a lap full of cat and a good story. If I’d had a Scotch in hand, it would have been pretty much perfect.

The guide noted that the Chapel had fallen into disrepair after centuries of neglect, but was gradually undergoing some restoration work when TDB was released. That August, the Chapel received more visitors than they had in the entirety of any previous year. Since there was only one washroom available on the site, this proved more than a little problematic. And Dan Brown’s fans continued to descend en masse to discover the secret of the Code for themselves.

The influx of Seekers of the Holy Grail facilitated the building of a beautiful Visitors’ Centre (complete with washrooms, cafe and gift shop- where you can buy Scotch, bottled especially for Rosslyn as a means of raising funds for its on-going restoration- although they frown on you drinking it in the Chapel) with all kinds of cool interactive displays that talk about the carvings and the (family) history of its construction.

The release of TDM brought even more visitors to the site- again, a good thing from a heritage preservation perspective. The guide told us a few tales of memorable visitors- those convinced that Elvis lay in the inaccessible vault beneath the Chapel, those convinced of the existence of the Sang Real, and those who thought they might catch a glimpse of Tom Hanks.

And then there were the crazy people…

One of the things that most resonated with me as we traveled the highways and byways of Scotland, in the company of fantastic storytellers with an impressive knowledge of history, was the fact that so much of it is continually being re- and/or over-written. This was made clear as crystal by the unanimous expression of disdain for one film in particular- one that starred a too-short Australian, dressed in anachronistic belted plaid, while painted (also anachronistically) with woad. I’ll refrain from mentioning the bit about the affair with Isabella of France (who was only three at the time of the events portrayed in the film). Oops. Guess I just did.

I haven’t seen Braveheart in its entirety. Never really interested me- especially since I read about the glaring inaccuracies fairly early on. I’m not all that fond of the Aussie-in-question (although, while I’m not much into the post-apocalyptic genre, Mad Max did have its moments. And I liked the first Lethal Weapon film. Nothing after that, though), so I wasn’t in a rush to witness his particular brand of over-acting.

I was quite surprised at the vehemence with which our guides emphasized the wrongness of the film’s presentation of its hero. William Wallace is very important to the Scots- and messing with his story is problematic. To say the least. They still talk of his murder (and they consider it murder, not execution) as if it happened recently, rather than in the 13th century.

We humans revise and review and revisit history all the time. Our stories are re-written and re-presented in different forms. The best stories hold up in the face of reworking and redaction because their themes and characters speak to something that is universal.

But, all too often, we do so at our peril.

Am I being pedantic when I complain about the ridiculousness found in TDB? Probably. A lot of people like the story, and found some level of entertainment in it. And, after all, Dan Brown never claimed that the story was non-fiction. Those conspiracy fans who make such claims do so of their own accord.

But. The subject matter at the source of his fiction, for all that it is, itself, fictional, has loomed fairly largely in my life. I’ve spent a lot of time with the texts- primary, secondary and tertiary, in my adult life. So the fact that people are willing to accept the further fictionalization of the myths, and reinterpretation of the symbols and metaphors they were meant to illustrate, as TRUE just bugs me. For the same reasons that any sort of unexamined credulity makes me crazy.

And now I’m ranting again.

What does any of this have to do with a search engine term that keeps bringing people here to visit? Some of you (assuming you’ve stuck around this long) are probably thinking (not without cause) that I’ve gotten totally lost in a complete derailment of my train of thought, but there is a connection. I swear.

You see, poor old Baphomet is the exemplar of this sort of thing. He is a construct that originated out of torture designed to garner confessions from a group of monks that had become a bit too rich and too powerful for the comfort of the King. And the Pope (although the Vatican now says that the persecution was ‘unjust’, and that Clement V was ‘forced into it’ by King Philip IV).

As they were tortured, some of the falsely arrested Knights confessed to the worship of some sort of heathen idol- variously described as a severed head, a head with three faces, and a cat. Until the persecution of the Templars, no one had heard of Baphomet. He arose out of the stories that were told about the perceived crimes of the Knights of the Temple.

Created. Whole cloth. As an instrument of condemnation of a group that was causing the powers-that-be some difficulties. Various theories as to the origins of his name- and of the demon/idol himself- proliferated as the centuries passed. His existence was back-dated for veracity.

With the 18th century rise of Freemasonry, Masonic leaders sought connections to heroes of the past, as they sought to create their own mythologized history. They connected the Masons to the Templars and then, going back even further, to some of my beloved Gnostic-types.

It’s all pseudo-history of the worst possible kind.

Dan Brown is far from the first person to cash in on the credulity that such unexamined claims can foster, if not cause outright. Eliphas Lévi drew a picture (literally) of Baphomet that served to secure a place for his image in Western minds for subsequent generations.

This is him. According to an occultist with a really good imagination.

 Aleister Crowley liked Baphomet (and Eliphas Lévi) a fair bit. He is generally considered to be one of the minions of Hell (Baphomet, not Eliphas)- if not the Devil Dude himself. Some Xian evangelist-types suggest that Masons, today, still worship that particular demon.

All this notoriety. From a singular mention in the writings of a chronicler of the First Crusade- suggesting that those they fought against called upon him as they attempted to hold the city against the Crusading Xians.

Baphomet is demonstrative of what can, and does, happen when myths (and mythological characters) are cited outside of their originating context. The stories go through a process akin to Broken Telephone- with the elements of the narrative losing all connection to their original, metaphorical or symbolic purposes.

As we add details and creatively expand upon sparse references, the innocuous can become monstrous. Such is the power of story– in the hands of people who have a way with words and the construction of lasting images.

When taken as entertainment- or as a potential source of universal truths/common sense- such stories serve to unite us as human beings. We all love a good story.

Stories become dangerous their authors purport to tell truths to which they cannot, legitimately, lay claim. Or when the credulous among us (an ever-growing crowd) decide to infer truths underlying the fiction.

Baphoment is a poster-child for this phenomenon. I’d like to think that that’s the reason so many people seem to be looking for information about him here in the interworld.

Given the stuff that I see in the media on a daily basis, I’m not naive enough to really subscribe to that particular conceit.

People are searching for information about him because they believe, however foolishly, in his existence as a manifestation/personification of evil that exists in the real world.

‘Don’t believe what you hear
Don’t believe what you see
If you just close your eyes
You can feel the enemy…

And I’d join the movement
If there was one I could believe in
Yeah I’d break bread and wine
If there was a church I could receive in
’cause I need it now…

And I know that the tide is turning ’round
So don’t let the bastards grind you down’

Bono has said that the song is largely about examining his own hypocrisy. It’s about having high standards for other people, and yet not living according to those standards. Wrapped up in the clearly-communicated anger and contempt is a message to continue onward in the face of overwhelming opposition.

So, despite the constant stream of evidence that supports the supposition that we are increasingly swayed by ancient superstition and reactionary rhetoric as we are subsumed by state-sanctioned credulity, I, like Bono- and Baphomet- shall persist. In living life at the standard which I expect from others, while attempting to spread my message regarding required examination and understanding of our history- literary and otherwise. With all its revisions and redactions.

Rant over. For real, this time.

Shattering Illusions

So ends the first week of the new school year and, as usual, it has me doing some thinking and reflecting as I try to put some thoughts and words together into something approaching a cohesive whole.

It’s also the first weekend of TIFF- so the city has exploded in celebration of the science of illusion-creation.

As the temperature soars (40 degrees when you factor in the humidity today) I’m doing my best to keep cool and carry on (amidst the insane crowds ’round my neck o’ the woods), so I’m thinking that the first part of the weekend will include watching the mini-series about the master of illusions that is hanging out on the PVR awaiting my gaze.

Happy weekend!

colemining

This time of year is always one of reflection for me.  I think it has to do with the whole ‘new beginnings’ thing that comes with the start of a new school year.  This is the fourth September that I won’t be heading back to the classroom- either as a student or a professor- after manymanyMANY years of it being the norm.

But I still find that the self-analysis and evaluation happens more at this time of year (and on Christmas Eve as well- pagan that I am) than at any other.

Heavy thoughts, sometimes, as the summer winds down and the last days of warm weather and relative quiet in the neighbourhood persist.

The other night I got to thinking about illusions- those we hold dear and those that we suddenly seem to discover either have been or are in desperate need of being shattered.  Not just quietly set…

View original post 740 more words

Bullies

Last week on Cosmos… Oh, how that show continues to amaze me. And this last episode spoke about concepts of immortality- and how the development of writing has allowed us to see into the hearts and minds of those who lived millennia before our time.

The stories remain. Neil deGrasse Tyson spoke of the Hero’s Journey- as undertaken by Gilgamesh as he searched for immortality.

The episode cleverly pointed to the existence of a Flood myth- one that predates the inspiration for Russell Crowe’s latest film by 1000 years- while continuing to explore the reality that to understand our planet and the cosmos as a whole we have to open our minds to its seeming vastness and our relative insignificance in the scale of space and time.

I love that show.

Anyhoo.

It got me thinking about my guy Gil- and called to mind this post that I wrote way back when I first was finding my voice here at colemining.

I wrote about him in the context of his initial character- the bullying leader, out for his own agenda- rather than the wise ruler he became as a result of his travel and discoveries.

Since today was the day that those running to lead this province as the next government were allowed to begin broadcasting their campaign ads, I thought that the topic of bullying and bullies could do with a little revisiting.

I haven’t had the television on today so I am able to live in hope (until I do catch a news report or a commercial) that this crop of political leaders will transcend the growing- and repulsive- trend toward attack ads as the norm.

Let’s keep it clean and on point, folks. There’s too much at stake for lowest common denominator mud-slinging and schoolyard name-calling.

We go to the polls on June 12. Make your voice heard, Ontario.

colemining

Gilgamesh.  If there was ever a classic example of a  cautionary tale about leaders misusing their power to the detriment of the lives of the people, and the displeasure that this abuse caused the gods, the Epic of Gilgamesh is it.  A Number 1.  While there is a great deal going on in the myth, its warning against bullying tactics as a political ‘strategy’ is as important today as it was more than 4500 years ago.

The earliest extant version of the story dates to about 2100-2000 BCE, from the time of the Sumerian revival in Mesopotamia.  The Ancient Near East was a collection of City States, constantly battling for supremacy.  We have no precise dates for the historical King Gilgamesh (sometime between 2800 and 2500 BCE is likely), but he is mentioned in the Sumerian King List and tradition holds that he conquered the previous ruler to become king…

View original post 882 more words

Dreaming of You

This was the first piece I posted, over a year ago, back when I was at the very beginning of this journey and trying to find my voice and figure out just what I wanted to do with this little space of the WordPress World.

At the moment I’m filled with things I NEED to be writing about, but the words won’t come. For many reasons- grief, exhaustion, uncertainty among them.

Looking back over the things I’ve shared this past 12 months, this, the first post, deals with the same thing I’m attempting to get a handle on now.

Loss.

While I try to do a little bit of ‘practicing that which I have a tendency to preach’ and gathering of emotional reserves, I’m also trying to remind myself that our stories continue to draw us together- even when we are faced with the very foundations of our lives being torn apart.  We can, sometimes, find the peace we need to keep on moving forward in our past reflections.  Hoping that this will be the case for me right now.

colemining

Today I had occasion to stop and think about the way people move in and out of one’s life.  It came up over coffee with a friend.  She was remembering the loss of one her childhood companions, gone 20 years today, killed in a random skiing accident.  Her first thought when I pressed her to talk about him was that he died doing what he loved best and that fact used to give her some measure of comfort, since it defined the person he was.  She went on to talk about how, not unlike the death of pivotal politicians or celebrities, she remembered exactly what she was doing when the call came, and precisely how she sprang into action to ensure that she could get home to say goodbye to him, despite the fact that she now realizes she was in shock.  At 22 she had felt loss before, but…

View original post 1,344 more words

‘We watch in reverence’

You know that thing?  That thing that happens when something- a word, a person, a concept- comes into your immediate frame of reference and then seems to be everywhere?

You do.  You know what I’m talking about.

Way back when (it’s only been a few months, but somehow it seems like eons ago) I wrote a little bit of a thing about our selfie culture and what larger meaning and impact that whole mindset is having on us, communally-speaking.  I also wrote something- even longer ago- about our current sorta mayor and his particularly heinous form of self-aggrandizing.  I don’t want to think/talk/write about him right now.

I also noted, much more recently, there are (at least) two great bloggers out there writing about narcissistic personality disorder, who have seen fit to acknowledge my own humble scribblings hereabouts.  As I said, I know little about clinical narcissism, myself.  From a psychological and/or diagnostic perspective, anyway.

But the subject keeps popping up…

Just today, for example, it appeared in my Facebook feed in a HuffPost article.

There’s a double-edged sword to all the potentiality for wonder and discovery in this world of ‘information sharing’ that we have happening.  There are SO many great sites- fiction, non-fiction, poetry, music, essays, opinions… there are myriad variations on endless themes out there.  But, as I’ve also mentioned, the lack of editorial control sometimes means that there is content out there that requires that we look at it quite critically  (certainly with a keener eye than is our general practice) to ensure that the material is coming from more than a troll-ish imagination that seeks attention and cares little for source checking or anything like documented support to ideas and statements.

There are also those sites that are devoted to pure vitriolic hatred- but they are easy enough to spot and avoid.  The pages of those with narcissistic leanings can be a little more insidious (like narcissism itself), since, needing attention, they have learned to disguise their manipulative ways by claiming to be talking about something else.

One such page was brought to my attention recently.  Generally I would have had a look and then dismissed it from my mind never to visit again.  But this page… In addition to the fact that it is poorly written (the grammatical and spelling errors are almost physically painful) the blatant pandering for attention is out of control.  Again, not normally my concern.  Except that such poorly-written blogs can be a little like a train wreck- and it can be hard to stop looking out of sheer amazement and morbid curiousity.  They often remind me of some of the more classic (using the word loosely) assignments I received while I was teaching, and so provide an element of nostalgia alongside the horror.

This one has stuck with me since it seems to be an exemplar of specific narcissistic tendencies- in particular the pathological drive to maintain contact and receive attention (if the ship of positive attention has sailed, then, evidently, negative attention will suffice) from those who have terminated relationships with the narcissist.

It’s such an inexplicable response that I can’t even wrap my head around it.

Ursula, at An Upturned Soul, wrote a post that helped me understand this propensity, at least a little bit.  She also noted that narcissism, as a theme/buzzword, appears to be the newest popular ‘trend’ in pop psychology.  For those who have experienced life with someone with narcissistic personally disorder this must be met with mixed emotions.  Everyone may be jumping on the bandwagon of late, but, as Ursula notes, overexposure and then boredom with the subject (side effects of our limited attention spans) will happen and something new will fill the void of topical psychological diagnoses.

I have had little personal experience (thankfully) with NPD.  But the other day a colleague asked me to define ‘narcissism’, so I inquired about the context of the question.  A mutual friend described the person she is involved with as a narcissist- and, not having even basic internet search skills, she didn’t know where to begin to look to discover what such a designation might entail.  I explained that there is a significant difference between narcissism as a character trait and narcissistic personality disorder as a pathology, though both terms come from the same source (it turned out that the person in question, while something of a ‘vain peacock’ does not, likely, have NPD).

You know I love words- and I’m all about the myths from which some of them originated…

Narcissus was the son of a river god and a nymph.  Something more than human, and, by all accounts, quite something to behold as far as physical beauty is concerned anyway.  He was also a jerk.  He delighted in the effect that he had on those foolish enough to think that a pretty face meant that he might have a heart/soul to match.

The version of the story that most know comes from Ovid’s Metamorphoses.  The mountain nymph, Echo, sees and loves Narcissus, who spurns her advances and leaves her lonely and existing as little more than a remnant of her true self- a hollow reverberation that is the source of our word for the (partial) repetition of a sound or thought.

The goddess in charge of revenge- Nemesis- is unimpressed by this behaviour and causes Narcissus to fall deeply in love with his own reflection- his exterior love mirroring his interior love of himself.  Since this love would forever remain unrequited, Narcissus died alone and in agony that it could never be fully realized or properly addressed.  He pined and wasted away because his self-centredness was so encompassing- both before and after Nemesis played her little trick-  it never allowed for the presence of another person in his life.

Other versions of the story- both contemporary with and earlier than Ovid’s- end even more bleakly, with Narcissus actively killing himself when he realized that no one would ever live up to his self-idealization and replace himself as the centre of his own universe.

The takeaway from all versions of this story is that extreme selfishness/self-involvement/self-love- whether stemming from pathology or personality- is never going to end well.  As one of my blogging buds said a while back (I’m pretty sure it was Beth Byrnes- check out her post that I reblogged earlier today- awesome stuff, always), the historical pendulum- that has seen our societies move from a norm that was community-centric to one that highlights the importance of the individual- has swung too far.

We need a happy medium.  Yes, one must pay attention to the needs of oneself in order to effectively contribute to the addressing of the needs of the many.  Definitely.  No argument at all there.  A little selfish hedonism every once in a while is certainly acceptable and to be encouraged- provided it is done without completely ignoring our responsibilities to those with whom we share the planet.

Our systemic self-interest is directly connected to our lack of historical awareness and engagement with the lessons that have come before- those that are recorded in our collective myths and the events of significance that we can all access, should we be bothered to stop thinking only about ourselves and take the time to actually and actively LEARN something.

I know.  I’m lecturing.

It isn’t all about ‘ME’.  It CAN’T be all about the individual.  Whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, our societal structure is in real danger of crumbling beneath this misperception- that the things we do need benefit us and us alone.  We are encouraged in this belief by our leaders- mainly through the lies rhetoric that speaks about people looking for ‘handouts’ or a ‘free ride’- at the expense of ‘the rest of us’.

Systemic selfishness is NOT an acceptable way of approaching the world.

Back in the Dark Ages (or the 1970’s), a band called Genesis (which then included Mr. Peter Gabriel) recorded and regularly performed an epic song that is both a work of musical genius and employs lyrical imagery that alludes to our shared histories and mythologies over the course of its 23 minutes.  It’s a commentary about- among other things- religion/spirituality, society and personal journeys.

Section IV- entitled ‘How Dare I be So Beautiful?’– references a solitary person, seemingly obsessed by his own image and evokes the story of our friend, Narcissus.  The heroes of the song witness his transmutation into a flower and are, themselves, pulled into their own reflections in the water.

The next section- ‘Willow Farm’– sees them emerge from the water and find themselves in a new reality- where everything moves and changes quickly and everyone seems mindlessly busy.  With each random blast of a whistle, everything changes into something else.  (Keep in mind that this was written in 1972.  Holy prescient view of the technological future in which we now find ourselves, Batman!)

After passing through the Apocalypse (there’s that apocalypticism creeping in- societal discord seems to make that happen), Magog is ultimately defeated by the forces of good.

It’s a powerful piece- made even more so by its employment of the imagery and archetypes that are drawn from our shared mythologies.  Its length (given the shortness of attention spans these days) and the fact that it alludes to all kinds of cool stuff, likely renders it unapproachable- to too many people- these days.  Like so much else of value.

Part of understanding the value of the Humanities is the necessary comprehension that we NEED to look outward- as well as inward- to really manifest our connection with this world of ours.  The fact that narcissism- with all its meanings- is such a topical term of late seems to be profoundly illustrative of the fact that this reality has been neglected- to our extreme and dangerous detriment.

And the fact that our putative leaders encourage and lead us by example into these behaviours?

Sing it, Pete.

So we’ll end with a whistle and end with a bang

And all of us fit in our places

With the guards of Magog swarming around

The Pied Piper takes his children underground

Dragons coming out of the sea

Shimmering silver head of wisdom looking at me

He brings down the fire from the skies

You can tell he’s doing well by the look in human eyes

Better not compromise, it won’t be easy

666 is no longer alone

He’s getting out the marrow in your back bone

And the seven trumpets blowing sweet rock and roll

Gonna blow right down inside your soul

Pythagoras with the looking glass reflects the full moon

In blood, he’s writing the lyrics of a brand new tune

Much Ado About Nothing

I don’t know about you, but I don’t really find this illustration particularly helpful in explaining why it’s SO FREAKIN COLD OUTSIDE.  And the typo is making me nuts, but I’m too chilly to search for another image.

Well there I was all hunkered down against the c-c-c-cold of the polar vortex- or whatever they’re calling it- getting ready to kill an evening watching some tv or something equally mindless.

Decided to check the WP Reader before turning off the laptop for the night and, what’s there?  A wee little goad by my friend OM- over there at Harsh Reality.

It’s one of the fun things he does- he gets conversations started.  I actually saw the link about the Baphomet statue earlier today.  I read the article, smiled a little and then forgot about it.

Jeepers.  People really don’t have larger concerns?

The constant negative back-and-forth between the atheist and non-atheist groups out there nowadays is inexplicable to me.  I don’t get it at all.  The defensiveness- on both sides- is astonishing.

Back when I had the time- and the interest- to be producing academic articles about new religious movements (including early Christianity- in an historical perspective, and the Church of Satan as a contemporary movement), a sociologist friend and I set the stage for some research into the phenomenon that seems to be overtaking some atheist movements out there.  The atheists are becoming as institutionalized as the institutions they seek to deride at every given opportunity.

I’ve talked about this a bit in passing before.  Our freedoms are supposed to allow us to express the manifestations of our faith- or complete lack thereof- without fear of reprisal or threat.  Regardless of whether they are sourced in a 1st century CE Nazarene carpenter or a horned figure that is assumed (by those unwilling to do a little homework) to be the antithesis of said Nazarene carpenter.

Before y’all go leaping to conclusions about my potential adherence to the Lord of Flies, let me remind you (or let you know if you’re visiting for the first time- a big ‘welcome’, if so) that I don’t believe in the existence of any deity- be it many-armed and elephant-headed; a complicated triumverate that is at once father, son and spirit; a one-eyed, raven-loving northerner; a creator Grandmother Spider; and/or the source of all evil and temptation who is set against the perceived originator of the world.

But I do like, and respect, them all.  I appreciate them as the manifestations of our human need to answer the unanswerable questions and I celebrate the variety and the beauty of these manifestations as representations of both the best and worst that we people can come up with in the recesses of our imaginations and ways of viewing our world and the one(s) that may exist beyond this one we know.

I’ve written about that Devil Dude here at colemining a time or two and it’s therefore unlikely to be a surprise that I personally feel that the guy(s) has gotten a very bad rap.  For lots of politically, sociologically and theologically motivated reasons.  I like him.  He’s an interesting character that has contributed significantly in Western art, culture and literature.

It can even, possibly, be safely said that he is my favourite mythological character.  I do hate to choose- it’s like picking my favourite book or song.  How can you fairly choose with so very many wonderful inventions that span millennia?

I don’t worship him, though.  Or believe in him- as such.

I’m not a satanist.  I don’t worship the flip-side of the coin that is the Christian deity.

You know what?  Neither do Satanists.  Not those folks who want to build the statue, anyway.  One would have to subscribe to the beliefs about the nature, theology and theodicy of the Christian deity in order to revere its opposite.  And they don’t.

They use the terminology based in its foundation: satan as ‘adversary’- and as found in the Hebrew scriptures.  Satanism is mainly an ideological social movement- opposed to things like herd mentality, stupidity, pretentiousness and lack of perspective (okay, maybe I AM a little bit of a satanist…)- and the movement developed its precepts and beliefs based on the examination of human nature and the ‘laws of the jungle’.

Anton LaVey based its core beliefs on things like secular humanism, individualism, religious skepticism and an eye-for-an-eye mentality that is positively Old Testament in flavour.

No sacrificing of babies or virgins to the Devil.  No desecration of Christian churches or symbols.  No black masses.

While some off-shoots of LaVeyan Satanism do envision a deity, it is one that is much more associated with older iterations of the satan/Lucifer/fallen angel who was responsible for bringing wisdom and technology to humanity.  For our benefit.  Like Prometheus.  I talked about that guy before too.

And poor old Baphomet.  Symbol of a doomed Knighthood that was brought down by a corrupt king, jealous of their wealth, power and influence.

His origins are hazy, but he maintains a presence- his likeness is representative of the Devil in many Tarot decks to this day.

Various theories (and accusations, at the time) suggested that the Templars brought the worship of Baphomet back from their adventures (on behalf of Church and Crown) as they attempted to ‘reclaim’ the Holy Land from the ‘infidels’.  Some suggest that Baphomet is a derivation of Mohamet- and that the assumption was that the Muslim infidels worshiped their Prophet as a deity.

That novel about Leonardo and a supposed ‘code’ played with the idea that Baphomet was a creation of a substitution cipher, and meant ‘wisdom’- but arcane- anti-Church and anti-King- wisdom that flew in the face of the social mores of the day.  Hence both the destruction of the Templars, and the equally-heinous development of the cult of Dan Brown.

So we’re back to the symbol of the satanists being all about the imparting of wisdom– that was outside the control of the ruling authorities- and therefore verboten.

How is any of that bad?  Let alone the embodiment of evil?

I say again, ‘Jeepers.’

Baphomet, Satan, Lucifer, Church of Satan?  All victims of bad PR (although, in the case of the Church of Satan, they aren’t all that interested in what others think these days- now that the era of ‘Satanic Panic’ has thankfully passed into sordid memory), nothing more.

Anyhoo.

The intent of OM’s post was to start a discussion about ‘tolerance’ and whether or not people expect tolerance of their worldviews yet remain quick to condemn those of others.

I commented that the statue would bother me not at all.  Just as statues of Jesus or Buddha bother me not at all.  (Although if they are erected in public spaces using public funds… there’s a different argument to be found.  I touched on that here).

I don’t understand the impulse to defensiveness that comes with belief.  I really don’t get the reactionary fall-out of being challenged in belief that causes people to malign the beliefs of others.

We all have things to teach- and we definitely all need a little more learning about certain things in this wide world of ours.  If such lessons can be gleaned by the placement of a statue- representative of the beliefs of a portion of humanity- in close proximity to another statue- also representative of the beliefs of a portion of humanity- where, exactly, is the harm?

That’s not simple rhetoric.  In my own search to understand us people-type-people I welcome all differences of opinion and perspective that are open to discussing such things.

Might help keep us all warm on this chillychilly night.

PS- I have to take issue with the creators of those myths about Hell- much as I do enjoy them.  If they had ever spent any time in a polar vortex, they’d know that such a place- if it existed would be COLD, not hot.  Warming trend can arrive any time now…

‘The Denton Affair’

Still reeling from the loss of Lou, I had planned on jumping back into the blogging swing of things in earnest with a hard-hitting rant about the continuation of the Senate nonsense (still looking for a response from the PMO that sounds remotely authentic) or the ongoing battles at City Hall (now that I am using the TTC every single morning rather than just occasionally I have even more of a vested interest, and Mayor McCheese is already talking about his re-election campaign.  Shudder), or actually writing something about mythology or religion or something like that but…

‘Tis the season.

First television viewing of Rocky Horror the other night.  I own the DVD (and the VHS) version(s), of course, but I just can’t not watch it when it comes on the telly- which it does frequently at this time of year (it’s not unlike Ghostbusters I and II, in that respect- I also own both of those, yet tend to watch them if I happen to run across them while channel surfing).

I love the film.  I missed the heyday of midnight participatory showings (although I did sneak in one night manymany moons ago with a friend when it was playing at the Roxy here in town- was quite an eye-opening experience, for a neophyte), but I have loveloveloved everything about it since I first experienced it at a birthday party decades ago.  The enduring songs are a big part of that (I wrote about The Time Warp a little while ago), but as I’ve matured and learned some stuff about some stuff, its value as a retelling of an archetypal myth has resonated and increased my appreciation of the genius of Richard O’Brien.  The connections to his love of classic (B-) movies and old Hollywood are obvious, but there a whole lot of mythological thinking going on there too…

(Hey wait.  This post IS going to be about mythology!  Yay, me!)

Many years ago, while I was completely caught up in the preparation for my comps, the annual RHPS-fest caught my eye and became a welcome source of procrastination well-deserved break.  Since I was in that altered state that tends to overtake me when I’m veryvery focused on something, I noticed something for the first time.

Frank is the demiurge.

The movie is riddled with gnostic mythology.  RIDDLED I tell you!  Everything about the story fused with the stuff I was working on and, like an illegitimate act of creation in the pleroma, brought one of the staples of popular culture together with my fave mythological system.  BAM.  Realization.  Richard O’Brien is even more a genius than I previously acknowledged.

I have yet to find anything that suggests he has any background in gnostic mythology (or Jungian psychology- Jung loved the dualists), just like I’ve never found proof that he was specifically influenced by that crazy B-Movie Spider Baby, but the language and the themes are so VERYVERY gnostic, I can’t get over it.  So much so, I used the film to finish the term when I got to teach a class on gnosticism a few years back.

How had I missed it before?

Gnostic mythology (very generally speaking- since there are LOTS of varietals of dualistic beliefs in the literature of antiquity- and those gnostic imaginings that came after) holds that there is a singular, unknown and unknowable deity out there somewhere- Bythos or the Abyss- which is the source of all things.  From him (yes, the originating principle was male) emanated a series of heavenly beings- the archons/aeons- who came forth in pairings of male and female and existed with the awareness of the Unknowable First Principle.  One of the archons- Sophia/Wisdom, usually- so loved and missed the FP that she sought to ‘know’ him, independently of her rightly-ordered partner.  As a result of this lapse the demiurge came into being.

This singularity (often named Ialdabaoth) sought, in his turn, to make an attempt at creation- outside of the proper order of the pleroma and the plan of the FP.  The result was the material universe/world and humanity.  The demiurge is variously seen as either stupid/incompetent or downright evil, depending on the source mythology.  Since the material is outside of the original plan, it is BAD.  Old Bythos felt sorry for those of us now trapped in materiality, so he allowed for a little piece of himself to be implanted in each of us who has the misfortune to be born into this realm of the physical.

This spark allows for the potential of knowledge/remembrance of the FP and the awareness of the negativity of our current lot in life, and through this gnosis we can eventually seek a return/reconnection/reunion with Bythos, at which time all will be good and properly ordered again.  From the gnostic perspective, we are to spend the entirety of our earthly lives seeking this reunion through learning and understanding the nature of the world and the pleroma beyond.

Some of the gnostics of the early centuries CE ran afoul of the more ‘orthodox’ (for lack of a better term- there really wasn’t much consensus of belief at the time) Christians, since the demiurge was associated with the creator god of the OT- who made humanity and was considered a pretty good fellow (mass extinctions and the like notwithstanding), so gnostic claims of idiocy and/or badness didn’t go over all that well.  Stuff like that led to them being labeled ‘heretics’ and having to bury their stories in jars in the desert (which was a very good thing for those of us who are interested in their worldview) in order to keep out of trouble.

I love my gnostics.  They were the focus of my academic life for, what seems like, eons.  They are representative of the reality of syncretism in the formation of belief systems, and the Christian gnostics were pivotal in the formation of the early Church.  Without them acting as an antithesis, the early Church Fathers wouldn’t have had to work so hard and so fast to codify just what WOULD make up the doctrine and dogma of the developing institution.  Plus they’re fun- and some of them liked to party waaaaaay more than those self-righteous martyrs and the like.

Anyhoo…

With that thumbnail sketch in mind…

Dr. Frankenfurter, a transvestite, bisexual alien, goes against the properly ordered universe and creates- in seven days– a man.  He IS Ialdabaoth.  Through his hubris, and acting outside of any kind of correct, archonic pairing, he finds the spark that allows for the creation of life.

There are harbingers from the get-go.  Brad and Janet (a male/female archonic pairing) see the light, in the distance, and seek its sanctuary and aid.  But, as Riff sings, it is a false light- of a false god- and really the dreams and darkness associated with Morpheus rather than the sun and light of the true, unknowable First Principle.

The servants are hostile and suspicious of the new creation, and plot against the demiurge while practicing small acts of insubordination- to Frank’s intense frustration.

Even Eddie/Meat Loaf talks about the suspicious influence of the false creator:

It don’t seem the same since cosmic light
Came into my life, I thought I was divine…

(How can you NOT dance to that song?!)

After Eddie’s untimely death, the rest of the group participates in a ritually-cannibalistic dinner.  During the Floorshow, Frank waxes melancholic about his longing to return home- back to the source (Transsexual Transylvania, in this case), especially since the whole creation thing hasn’t gone exactly as planned.  As other mythological creator gods have discovered, creatures with free will seldom follow the desires or mapped out plans of their creator.

Riff Raff and Magenta (properly, gnostically, paired as male/female/brother/sister) restore the order of the pleroma (as the archons ‘Christ’ and ‘Church’ are called upon to do in some gnostic Christian myths) by returning Frank- and his creature- to nothingness.

Like other artistic creations that use the language and themes of myth (Frankenstein and stuff about Prometheus comes to mind), The Rocky Horror Picture Show presents cultural constructs in a way that exposes their short-comings while playing with elements that are tangibly familiar.  Whether we consciously acknowledge it or not, we somehow know the story- and know that it isn’t going to favour the one who messes with the proper way of doing things.  Not because of the alternative lifestyles/sexuality/gender roles that it demonstrates and celebrates (which were, at the time, pretty out there for the mainstream culture), but because Frank’s act of creation goes against the mandated order of things.

Riff and Magenta, for example, have a relationship that (seemingly) violates at least one major taboo, yet they come out of the situation ahead of the game- and they are allowed to return to their longed-for source- because they were instrumental in restoring the proper order.  They may have committed all kinds of other crimes to do so, but the means is seen as justifying the end.

This is something else our stories tend to do- they support the status quo (or doctrinal/dogmatic rules/laws/commandments) at whatever cost.  Even when they are tarted up (in a good way, in this example) as a musically delicious romp stomp all over cultural mores and ‘traditional’ values.

Something to keep in mind.  Especially when our government(s) seem hell-bent on continually doing (or suborning) things that are faaaaaar scarier and potentially dangerous than most Hallowe’en haunts.

We can’t escape it.  Myth is all around us.  And it isn’t always used for/by the forces of good.

Happy Hallowe’en, boys and girls.  Keep safe out there.  The veil is thinning and the creatures of myth are trying to return to our world…

Mwahahahahaha…

Promised you a Miracle

So.  Been away for a bit.  Got most of the place packed up and moved over the weekend (note I say most) despite a badly sprained ankle, largely because of our AMAZING helpers, who lifted and organized and- perhaps most importantly- kept my optimism and sanity at reasonable levels.  Good friends are wicked awesome.  To an heroic degree sometimes.

This was one of those times.

The  new place is shaping up and feeling like home, and there’s really only one more medium-sized load of stuff to get to storage, and I still have 9 days until the end of the month, so I’m taking a bit of a break and resting the ankle (and other assorted muscle aches and bruises.  I am waaaaaay too old for this moving stuff.  There WILL be professional movers next time.  I think my hair actually hurts) and rebuilding the energy levels somewhat.

What better way to chill out and relax and recoup than to go, with some old friends, to visit with some old friends at that grand old barn we call Massey Hall.

Simple Minds are here tonight.

Simple.  Minds.

I saw them at Massey Hall in 1984.  Sparkle in the Rain Tour.  Then Maple Leaf Gardens in 1985.

And now they’re back.  On a ‘greatest hits’ tour.  Playing relatively small venues- hence the Massey Hall location again- that old timey concert hall, one of the most comfortable venues in town (as in, it feel like you’re in your living room- if it was a living room that hold 2500 people), and the starting place and storehouse of some of my most memorable concert-going experiences.

SO. VERY. EXCITED.

Since they are keeping this tour small- and since the promoters obviously underestimated the strength of Toronto fandom when it comes to a band like Simple Minds- what few tickets remain are selling for exorbitant prices.  Not quite the secret-Arcade-Fire-in-Brooklyn-show prices (apparently someone was selling tickets to those shows for $5000– THAT’S insanity), but steep nonetheless.

I’m going because one of those amazing friends I was just mentioning got me a ticket as a birthday present months ago.  With the craziness of the move and all I had sort of forgotten about it.  Not that it was happening- too psyched for that- but the when of it sort of left the conscious part of my brain.

It’s back.  I’m getting no work done today- just eagerly anticipating hanging with Jim and Charlie and the boys- and those of my peeps who managed to score tickets to the show.

I have promised another not-so-lucky bud that I will provide a full review post-show, so I will keep this one brief and less-gushy than it might otherwise have been.

But…

Promised You a Miracle.

Miracles are an interesting phenomenon.  Ascribable to the supernatural, they are events that are filled with wonder and most religions see them as divine intervention in the lives of us human-type people.  The mythological systems of the religions of the world have many examples of stories of the miraculous: communications with the deity (burning bushes and the like), revelations through human vessels, icons weeping blood, the taming of wild beasts… Myriad are the tales and the means through which the divine deigns to speak with and guide his/her/their creation.

My favourite biblical story of the miraculous?  Hard to choose, but I think the story of Balaam and the talking donkey in Numbers is right up there among the crazy amazing tales of the supernatural interfering in the real world.

MY main memory of Promised You a Miracle dates back a number of decades, and isn’t really about the song itself.  We were on a camp out- a whole crowd of us.  And, as part of the silliness of the day, we were playing a somewhat manic game of charades.  Guido (nicknamed for the killer pimp in Risky Business, despite the fact that he looked disturbingly like Eddie Haskell from Leave it to Beaver) was up, and furiously acting his great heart out- trying SO hard to MAKE us guess the clue.

Song.

4 Words.

But really, all he kept doing was making the sign of the cross and looking heavenward.  Over and over again.  As the clock was about to run out someone finally yelled out the correct answer.  Not coincidentally the person who got it is also my benefactor for the show tonight.  And one of the other peeps from that particular camp out will also be joining us at the concert.

We laughed for a long time about the repetitive nature of the clue.  Guid made us laugh a whole lot- on that cookout and so many other times over the years.  He was my first sailing teacher- he taught me to love the sport for itself and for the lessons that controlling a small boat on a big lake can teach you.  Lessons I spoke about here.

He died, in a freak skiing accident, the following winter.  But I still picture him, looking all Haskell-esque while emphatically gazing skyward (when he wasn’t glaring at us for our obvious idiocy), whenever I hear that song.  Which I will tonight.  Surrounded by friends and memories of concerts past.  And with one missing friend who yet remains in the forefront of my mind at certain specific times.  When certain specific songs are played.

I’d like to think he’s with us, somehow.

‘Belief is a beauty thing.’

Have a great evening.

I’ll get back to you when I recover from celebrating with the Boys in the Band.

‘Hoping all the verses rhyme’

This interworld can really be an incredible place at times.  Being relatively new to the blogsphere, it still constantly amazes me the many ways in which messages can be spread and different communities can be formed.

The other day I posted a little piece about some shenanigans going on in the world of popular music, and the fact that such shenanigans become the focus of a great deal of discussion, while other, more important, occurrences remain shockingly overshadowed.

I ended the post with some optimism- in the form of my discovery that Ray Davies, storyteller and songsmith, was releasing a new book soon (although not, sadly, soon enough for it to be my cottage book in 2 weeks), reassuring me that there are still vibrant, talented, relevant voices out there.  I let his brother, Dave, sum up my feelings in his own talented manner, and sent the post out into the interworld to illuminate, educate or entertain as it would.

Imagine my surprise when the hits on my little blog started increasing, like, exponentially.  Turned out that the master of a Kinks website included a link to humble ol’ colemining, and wonderful Kinks fans from all over the world have subsequently been kind enough to click and have a look.

Although I am not remotely mathematical (Humanities Ph.D. and proud of it), I do have a certain fascination for statistics and tracing patterns (it must be my sociological training), so watching new countries pop up in the site stats not only excites me in a geekish way, it really brings home just how unifying something as global as music can be.

All these people, first connected through their love of an amazing band, came to check out what I have to say, and from there kept on clicking and visited some of my fellows in the WordPress community whose icons or site names caught their attention.

Kinks fans rock.  Truly.

A big part of my studies of world religions has been focused on the transmission- the communication– of texts.  The stories we tell- about ourselves, our gods, our communities- have been historically subject to a an incredible degree of dissemination.

With the omnipresence of the interworld these days, it’s easy to forget that texts- and letters- have always been wont to travel widely.

We can trace the overlapping similarities in the mythologies of Egypt, Mesopotamia and Israel through the trade routes that expanded their respective audiences and brought elements of significance into the stories and practices of the other cultures they bumped into along the way.

Likewise, early Christian writers took (or sent) their writings to other communities as a means of spreading, discussing and evolving the precepts and practices of their developing beliefs.

That early webmaster, Paul of Tarsus, communicated regularly with the church houses that had been established- in his name- throughout the western Mediterranean region.  Many of the later doctrines of the Christian Church(es) were drawn from these letters- from his interpretations of the character and message of Jesus of Nazareth.

Historically, as a species, we like to hear from other people, to discuss what they think about things, look at how they deal with times of trouble and benefit from wisdom that has a different origin from that which is immediately familiar.

Nowadays, those of us who are fortunate enough to be party to the constant accessibility of online communications can exchange ideas and opinions instantaneously.  And get responses back almost as immediately.

Brave new world indeed.  The interworld at its best.

One of the bloggers that I think is pretty groovy, Opinionated Man, has undertaken an exciting experiment here in the interworld.  He has started something he calls Project O, as a means of creating and furthering dialogue about opinions- where they come from, how they are expressed, and whether they are universal rights (that’s a very brief synopsis- check out the link for the full template and game plan).

My input is currently scheduled to be offered up at 6:00 AM on September 8.  I have no doubt that there will be insightful perspectives, lively debates and windows into the mores and realities of cultures from all around the world.

The Opinionated Man really knows how to strike a chord- and this experiment in communication is right up my alley.  The discussions are already starting- I encourage you to participate if it’s something you’d be into.  Regardless, responding to the template made me stop and think about my opinions- and how they were/are formed.  Can’t wait to see what everyone else has to contribute.

In any case, all this togetherness, connectivity and talking ’bout stuff has put a pretty positive spin on a week that wasn’t all that great in many ways.

It’s the beginning of the last long weekend of summer- which can sometimes be a little melancholy (since it’s one more indication that winter will show up sooner rather than later, and I hate the winter)- and I’ve been locked in my head with some pretty heavy reflection over the past few days weeks.

The positive energy that has come my way is helping to shift my view forward.

I wish you a happy Labour Day weekend with heartfelt thanks to all of you who choose to spend some time following along with my (often somewhat derailed) trains of thought about people and our stories and/or whatever little ditties may be floating around in my brain.

As a special shout out to the oh-so-many of my fellow Kinks peeps who have stopped by today, I leave you tonight with the words and wonder of Ray Davies, and a shared hope that we all find some ‘better things’.

Let’s keep talking folks.  Pretty awesome stuff can happen when we communicate with one another.

‘The Way Things are Going…’

Thursday’s post, complete with Beatles tune at the end, got me thinking about the weekend playlist, so I have decided to get a jump on the Shuffle Daemon and create my own theme for some Saturday tuneage.

For some reason, I always closely associate Ob-la-di Ob-la-da with The Ballad of John and Yoko.  Likely because they are both on the same side of the same record in the 2-record ‘Blue Album’ compilation of hits from 1967-1970.  I played that particular album a lot at one point in time.

Like those long-haired weirdos themselves, the song attracted its share of controversy, given John’s history of self-comparison with Jesus.  Even if it is the story of John and Yoko’s honeymoon.

‘Christ you know it ain’t easy, you know how hard it can be

The way things are going they’re going to crucify me’

John’s line about being “more popular than Jesus” in 1966 was made in the context of a discussion that had been happening in the UK since the end of WWI regarding the decline of Christianity.  It came out of John’s own studies about the phenomenon and was an expression of an opinion that was pretty well supported by academic evidence.  The comment provoked no reaction in the UK.

But the States?  Whoa boy.  As is their continuing wont, America over-reacted and started banning the Beatles from the airways, burning their albums and accusing them of blasphemy.  Over a decade later, a born-again Christian who had been a Beatles fan until John’s comment about Jesus, murdered him in Central Park.

The 1969 Ballad of John and Yoko was a tongue-in-cheek reference to the hoopla caused by a comprehensive interview being taken out of context.  I love the song- not just because it is snappy and fun, but because John and Paul recoded it together- just the two of them- when George and Ringo were tied up with other responsibilities.  They played all the instruments and provided all the vocals.  It was the probably the last great blast from a musical partnership that has yet to be matched.

This one is great for so many reasons.  Some pretty wicked fiddling happening there (and I’m not generally into the fiddle tunes) but I love how it plays with themes from myth and folklore while paying respects to a number of different traditional ditties in Johnny’s performance (in contradistinction to the Devil’s heavy guitar-based rock and roll).

The motif of the ‘Deal with the Devil’ is played with and made into a competition, which Johnny wins.  Interestingly, he is hardly the poster child for virtue- his vanity/hubris is pretty spectacular.  Even if it is an accurate assessment of his talent.

The best line in the song was unfortunately *blanked* out/changed for radio/television airplay.

‘I done told you once you son of a bitch I’m the best there’s ever been.’

The confidence- and lack of fear- is a pretty neato variation of the whole Faustian bargain thing.  And the fiddle prowess at the centre of it all evokes the legend of Paganini.

The Devil and music are often found together.   Blues musician Robert Johnson made a deal with Satan at a crossroads that led to his mastery of the guitar.  Love the liminality of that particular story.  And crossroads demons have gained some contemporary pop cultural revisiting on Supernatural.

Deals with the Devil for advancement or powers beyond ordinary ken are cautionary tales having to do with the dangers of vanity, hubris, greed and any other vice/deadly sin that you can think of.  Typical mythological motif.

The idea that the Devil can be beat though… so very human in its optimism.  And it takes the edge off the power of Satan when people manage to win every once in a while.

Well done, Charlie Daniels.

Wall of Voodoo- with new lead singer Andy Prieboy, who replaced Stan Ridgway in 1983- combined both Jesus and John Lennon in Far Side of Crazy.  The song is full of historical-cultural references that go along with the characters drawn from myth/history.

It’s quite a clever song, lyrically. The protagonist self-describes as both Pilate and Jesus and then goes on to talk about relating to both John Lennon and his murderer, as well as would-be Presidential assassin John Hinkley and his victims (‘I shot an actor for an actress’).  The tension between fandom/obsession and violence as well as religious (and literary- both shootings had associations with J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye) manifestations of mental illness, is clearly expressed in the tune.

And the video is pretty trippy.

Even if that clown is terrifying.

Depeche Mode’s 1989 song demonstrates a shift in cultural mores- enough so that a title- and theme- like Personal Jesus can slip into popular culture without much outcry.  Martin Gore has said that the song was influenced by the relationship between Elvis and Priscilla Presley, as described in her memoir Elvis and Me.

It’s about the imbalance that can happen in relationships, when one partner is both lover and leader/teacher and becomes the totality of the world.  The analogy certainly doesn’t present the relationship between deity and adherent in all that healthy a light either.

They will be in town in a couple of weeks, and you know that this song will make the set list.  I’ve seen Dave Gahan sing this song live at least 4 times, and the experience remains electric.  His charisma- always pretty emphatic- really becomes transcendent when he performs this tune.

I wrote here about two Don Henley songs that have impacted my life, and this is another one that resonates in so manymany ways.

1995 was a weird year.

Shortly after the song was released I heard an interview with Don in which he described it as something of sequel to Hotel California.  Like that classic, The Garden of Allah is social commentary.  In a big and pretty condemnatory way.  He critiques music, fashion and the media, in particular citing the media circus and the debasement of the criminal justice system (including some unscrupulous ‘expert witnesses’) in the travesty that was the OJ Simpson trial.

It is told from the point of view of a very disgruntled Devil, who is feeling completely superfluous as humanity surpasses even his capacity for evil.  The Devil recounts happier days, going all the way back to the Garden and times of relative harmony in Heaven- when the gods (note the plural) valued him (for his ‘talents and creativity’).  Even once the Devil and his companions are tossed at the end of the war, the earth remained a viable playground for his ministrations.

Not so much anymore.  This world has become far too much like ‘home’ and there’s nothing left for him to do or ‘claim’.  A Devil without purpose in a world without soul and in which notoriety and fame have become inseparable.

Can’t say that things have improved since 1995.  That slope has proven far too slippery.  Once again Don’s vision, couched in the language of myth, went ignored.  Sigh.  The wilderness is still swallowing the most important of our voices.

Of course, since nothing he writes has only one layer or meaning, the Garden of Allah references more than just the abandoned Eden we can no longer access.  Don is also evoking the Golden Age of Hollywood, and an apartment complex built by the actress Alla Nazimova.  The site was the scene of notorious parties and housed all kinds of celebrities over its lifetime (including F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1937-38).

Man, that guy is just tootoo fine a lyricist.  Every time I hear this song its nuances hit me in the gut.   

Still, it is the weekend, and a good playlist shouldn’t be ALL about thought-provocation and insight.

Tenacious D.  Jack Black and Kyle Gass.  Tribute is thematically similar to The Devil Went Down to Georgia except that the duo is given no choice but to perform “the Greatest Song in the World” in order to avoid having their souls eaten by the demon who accosts them on the road.  The demon is, naturally, Dave Grohl (who played drums on all of Tenacious D’s studio albums).

They comply, and save their souls, but they are unable, afterward, to remember just which song it was that they played.

It’s silly.  And fun.

Music and Myth.

Getting the weekend off to a great start.

Enjoy.