To Dream...

I am a dreamer. Clichéd, absurd and maybe even ridiculous, but I can’t think of any other way of explaining my personality. By which I mean I truly do not live here, but in my head. I guess it’s not surprising that an introvert like myself would see it as such, retrieve and become a recluse there. Then, of course, comes Inception and it puts its hold on me. The more I read about it, the more I listen to Hans Zimmer’s brilliant soundtrack – the more I connect with myself.

Christopher Nolan took ten years writing the script. But like the layers of dreams he presented us in the movie, the meanings seem to go much deeper as well. Two fascinating looks at other people trying to decipher it are found here and here (spoilers within).

I find that my dreams is where I really belong, and life is just the time lost between sleep that I dredge through day in-day out. Like Nightmare on Elm’s Street “Dream Warriors,” the dream state is where I get to explore my subconscious freely without any limitations. I have been wolf, part animal, in other lands and planes of existence, unafraid of demons, conversed with beings while walking miles above Earth and watched mountains fall to hollow crevices. I have dreamt, gruesomely, of my mother’s disease that she kept secret from me. I've met Gods. It is only limited by the time given to sleep – and once the alarm clock rings sometimes the sudden jolt erases the memory of what had transpired. I have woken up in tears realizing what I’ve lost. I have cried for persons I’ve known forever which I love, deeply, that are lost within. Escapism? Perhaps. Repressed thoughts or just sputtering synapses, maybe. Even though my dreams may at times be depictions of visions from Barlowe or Beksinski, sometimes I rather experience the possibilities there than what is given here.


I’ve been told in the past that I put too much weight in the significance of my dreams. Maybe it’s true, but it’s the key to your subconscious (a key to something) – and while it may just be trying to dump excess data out or trying to defrag your mind – I find that within its self-created encyclopedia of symbolism it is trying to tell you something. Dreams have been known to be the medium in which the Gods spoke to men, as Asklepios would in order to heal illness. I feel that my subconscious is Nostradamus and my dreams are his quadrants – if I could only decipher them, I would learn so much more. When Cobb tells Ariadne in the film that he spent 50 years with his wife Mal within their own self-created dream world, Ariadne looks shocked. But if we think about it – it was only a dream… and yet within the film we understand the gravity of it. Within life, we would dismiss it as something silly. Childish. Nothing more than imagination gone awry...


In dreams there is no time, no structure. It is limitless and boundless. It is as if the reality of the infinite that we attempt to connect with is experienced in our dreams. It has its own logic. It is where the ridiculous meets the Divine. In our living state we our conformed by laws, rules and time within our three-dimensional state. We’re made of meat. We do not have to focus to keep our physical reality rotating and existing and we understand it, by reason or logic.

Hans Zimmer, like always in my opinion, had a touch of brilliance and beauty with the soundtrack. The song within the movie telling the inhabitants of the dream that it is time to “kick” back is Edith Piaf’s “Non, je ne Regrette Rien” slowed down. (link) And as we listen to it, it essentially tells us, the viewer: wake up.

You’re waiting for a train – a train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don’t know for sure. But it doesn’t matter.

With this chasing of dreams I find myself dreamless - sleepless even - for the past few days. To sleep, perchance to dream, ay...

Tetelesmenoi Hermei

Hermes, simplistically known as the "Messenger of Gods" becomes more complex the more you delve into him, follow him around and learn from the wisdom of the messages he carries and dispatches. It is no wonder why this enigmatic and warm god became the one deity Karl Kerenyi was fondest of, in his life and journey.

The more I dig beyond the surface of the Messenger, the more in depth the road becomes. Among a few past Hellenistic forum discussions the question arouse as to why certain divinities seemed more popular than others, and in particular Hermes was one mentioned. But when it is of his divine nature in traveling from the world of man to that of gods, to the heavens and to the underworld it doesn't surprise me that more of us are responsive to his inquiries, noticing and welcoming him into our lives. I am still learning of all the titles Hermes carries, along with many areas he is keen with: pompos or diaktoros ("guide"), angelos ("messenger"), eriounios ("luck-bringer") akaketa ("benignant," "gracious," witness of a gentle death-god), enodios ("by the road") and hodios ("belonging to a journey"). An Etruscan inscription has turms aitas meaning "Hermes of Hades" as his chthonic aspect.

He is the god of travelers, of journeymen. But isn't our lives a journey in itself? Having a guide not only in the literal sense of the act, but in the allegorical as well would seem helpful. Inciting ideas, dreams and epiphanies - the trickster god taking and giving: to his amusement, to our bereavement. Hermes is hegetor oneiron ("ruler of dreams") and with his Caduceus his brings sleep and wakefulness to men. The offerings left on the roadside were called hermaion, but it was also the word for windfall, as things that are of accidental discovery for gain. The residue of the chaotic windfall, Kerenyi wrote, which is shaped to the meaning of the god.

"In every cosmos accident remains fundamental, a residue of the chaotic condition, and this is true also of the Hermetic cosmos."

Of the crossroads and of the night - polythropos ("gate-watcher"), nuktos opoetera ("nocturnal scout") and Kerenyi and Walter F. Otto both felt that they understood Hermes as the Greeks understood Night.

But the darkness of night which so sweetly
invites to slumber also bestows new vigilance
and illumination of the spirit. It makes
it more perceptive, more acute, more enter-
prising. Knowledge flares up, or descends like
a shooting star -- rare, precious, even magical
knowledge.

And so night, which can terrify the solitary
man and lead him astray, can also be his friend,
his helper, his counselor.
-- Otto

The image of Hermes started out as his namesake originates from, as a herm, a pile of stones at entrances of homes and roadways. This image was seen as a mediator, but also connected him to the home. Guiding souls (psychopompos) from the realms - paths, underworld, roads - back to the life and warmth of the home. Mediator of the between, night and of day, men and spirits, gods and mortals: propylaios ("before the gate"), pylaios ("the one at the entrance"), storphaios ("cunning," "versatile"), psithyristes ("whisperer") and hermeneus ("interpreter"). As a god I feel the closest to, one I keep in my thoughts daily and carry his symbols not only on my person but at work as well, I feel that I am part of tetelesmenoi hermei "initiated into the Mysteries of Hermes" as Kerenyi himself had inscribed onto his grave. However, I feel (that like all mysteries) much will remain enigmatic and will require a lifetime of contemplation in order to truly learn and comprehend the experience. Kerenyi quite well described it in his book:

The reality of Hermes world proves at least the presence of a standpoint from which it is revealed; more than that, it testifies to something active that is not merely revealing itself from that standpoint, but that is ever again suddenly present and drives the world to give concrete expression to the Hermetic works of art and illusion. The source of this experience and configuration of the world, which at the mention of Hermes' name breaks into the light of day (and broke forth also without mentioning his name, only less clearly), is Hermes himself. It must possess the complete Hermetic breadth, from the phallic to ... From here we are as yet unable to move on with any perspicacity, for on the basis of the classical tradition we have to complete the foregoing sentence with: ... to the guidance of souls, an activity that stretches beyond life. Here Hermes remained completely enigmatic to us.

Qui animas ducere et reducere solet ("the one who leads souls away and leads them back again")

Unknown Father Unknown Soldier

June 18th, Friday. A day I always celebrate in a dismal sort of way. It falls five days before my birthday - it is the day my father died. This year, it also happened that the day before I finally met my sister, from his side, for the first time. We went to Rose Hills Cemetery and we tended our father's, grandfather's and grandmother's graves by cleaning them up and putting flowers. We sat there and talked, took photos and offered a libation of beer to them (well the bottle kept tipping over dad's grave so he got what was left). Because of this new found and incredibly powerful relationship I have found, I want to share the little of what I have. I gave my sister copies of the pictures I had of my father along with copies of his birth and death certificate.
I look forward to obtaining copies of the investigation that was done years after his death for both us. Copies of my grandfather's WWII military record.

This time of year I keep my ancestors, and my father particularly, close in my thoughts and heart. I don't carry any memories of him even though I carry pictures and I always wondered of his character. Of that which others say. I wonder what influence he had in me, indirectly. I wonder of the influence my ancestors have within my family, and what of it still lingers on in the blood, in the daily interactions with each other and what sort of luck or fortune has been passed through the lineage. The Norse called this Hamingja.

I've never been one to directly experience the dead. My mom is, however. Now it seems, she sees them on constant basis in her new home. She even saw my father on the day he died while she was overseas, in her house - and she knew. No, I have never felt my father, or my grandfathers, or great-great grandfather nearby even though I honor and think of them. Makes me feel lonely during these times.

On Wednesday - a day before I would meet my sister - I was walking home listening to my podcasts, when I came upon a section of this one episode. It's an an old episode of This American Life, to which I have filled my iPod with. It is moving, heartbreaking and in such a peculiar moment of my life that it hurt - What was the last thing he saw?



Unknown Solider

[...]
So give my eyes to the eye bank,
give my blood to the blood bank.
Make my hair into switches,
put my teeth into rattles,
sell my heart to the junkman.
Give my spleen to the mayor.
Hook my lungs to an engine.
Stretch my guts down the avenue.
Stick my head on a pike,
plug my spine to the third rail,
throw my liver and lights to the winner.
Grind my nails up with sage and camphor
and sell it under the counter.
Set my hands in the window as a reminder.
Take my name from me and make it a verb.
Think of me when you run out of money.
Remember me when you fall on the sidewalk.
Mention me when they ask you what happened.
I am everywhere under your feet.

-Luc Santé

Happy Father's day, Dad.

My Universalism

Among a few Reconstructionist circles this term has been used with a darker tinge to slap those who do not follow the more conventional road. It 's almost as meant to be a synonym for another that could be in its place: eclectic. While I do not and never have claimed to be a Recon I admire their application since I find scholarly work to be tantamount to truth. I have naturally added attributes of reconstructionism into my studies since by my own nature I am fanatic about history. I sedulously devour many books and tidbits from various themes in various subjects, and yet this is where my crux lies - I am all over the place, and could never just sit and nest myself among one area or culture.

While it is never fair to judge a whole group based a few sole words by some members, I find when they attempt to represent the larger community as a whole to steer and enlighten on the workings and discussions of said growing group, I rather not belong. Certain concepts make me feel like the previous questions others have had in regard to the community seem to border among fundamentalism might hold some truth and eventually people automatically take sides. Example, if I do not acquire - to what I find to be xenophobic ideas - I am seen as someone who is too preoccupied with foreign curiosities and therefore does not understand said culture's view of Divinity as being the most perfect one. Therefore, I am a Universalist.

Then again, I don't find that disparaging the more I think about it. I love science, and astronomy, cosmology and quantum physics. Though my understanding is poor compared to actual people in the field, and I being a casual observer, I tend to view the world in large abstracts of nature and forces of energy - that of dark matter, of exploding stars and cosmic sombreros. Our galaxy containing a large black hole in the center could only be perceived as just a humorous joke being played out by Loki. The marriage consummation between siblings Zeus and Hera does not elicit revulsion because divinity is not biological - never mind our image of Uatu or Galactus in his violet and blue armor. We see them in the only way our finite minds could interpret.

Galactus perceived by other sentient beings

When I think of God the creator I think of a Force too outside of our reach to care of a small, single-stared solar system hovering over the tip of our spiraling Milky Way galaxy - which at this point probably defines me as a pandeist. Geology and biological archeology provides glimpses on how I can understand my polytheism, and better understand this miniscule rock. The more I mingle with the Homo species, the more I feel attracted to the inanimate objects whose age spans millions of years.

Sombrero Galaxy M104, taken with Hubble.

Junio

Once classes ended, it felt like the mess after the storm. I was now left to pick up the pieces, try to reorganize, and attempt to rest after so much forced movement, energy and expectations.

Now, I sit with all the free-time, and I have nothing to say. Perhaps I work best during constricting schedules, and my mind creates patterns better when set under fire. To distract myself, other than catching up with faux-fiction, I have set to read on the basics - Pythagoras, some Herodotus and even draw a bit. The latter requires me to look into my Tarot books for definitions of cards that I will add to the art piece of a coworker, hoping that the images she burns onto her skin are filled with positive symbolisms. I will primarily use the Spanish Naipes style cards - one that I was so fond of during my high school years.

The fascinating thing for me of Pythagoras is his view of the Pentagram - the most harmonious symbol, according to his mathematical equations. It was called ὑγιεία Hygieia, after the goddess, with each letter corresponding to each element: ὕδωρ water; γαῖα earth; εἱλή heat (fire); ἰδέα idea or ἱερόν, Hieron "a divine thing"; ἀήρ air. We also see Venus create a pentagramic shape on its inferior conjunctions on its successive movement.


I have in turned, purchased a pentagram to wear. But why? While the symbols appears in Taoism, Freemasonry, Aristotelian philosophies it is mostly seen a Wiccan/Neopagan/Witchcraft symbol, none of which I subscribe to personally. So why? Because of the Pythagorean and Sumerian view of it, and because as I usually do, I like to create my own personal symbolism based on viewing things at different perspectives.

If there were a mutually agreed upon symbol I could associate with Hellenic worship, the way the Mjølnir is to Ásatru, I would use it. While I wear a Caduceus, it gets (to my displeasure) confused more with Nursing and Health, than Wisdom and Transcendence. I would expect no different with the pentagram. However, since I began wearing it, albeit a bit worried of the commenting of coworkers and because of my own prior preconceptions of it, I found that it has been quite an interesting week. Even with the deluge of bad news in regards to family, it has kept me with a calm disposition regarding all of it.

In the next few days I will celebrate my birthday. I am not looking forward to it. As the days roll by I find myself wondering if what I do is worthwhile, if what I name is worth applying to, if what I believe thus far is what I should do. I constantly change, I am the essence of a Mercurial personality. The things around me will act as a catalyst to change me internally, changing my properties, changing my set paths. The more I dig a hole, the more I wonder how deep am I willing to go.

That day is also Hekate's Deipnon.

May her torches light the way for me,
may her steps beside me guide me,
and may her hounds keep me company.