5th Day of Xmas: Bringing in the Boar Day

[Cue the music!]  On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me/FIVE...GOLDEN...PIGS!

Alas, the Fifth Day of Christmas may not light your fancy, I fear, if only for lack of wild boar in the area.  (Of course, if you’re talking Chambana, Illinois, there really isn’t much wild anything).  Even so, the Fifth Day is “Bringing in the Boar Day,” and by that is meant not so much a male domestic pig as his wild cousin: longer-legged and therefore faster, and fiercer, and tougher than the roly-poly, stubby-legged and relatively hairless source of our bacon and ham.  The scientific designation for the wild boar is Sus scrofa; in pig farming areas, they call it Su-EY! scruffy.

...I'm joking.

Check out how long-legged this boar is:

 
 

Wild boar range in size from 150 to 600 pounds, generally.  However, the largest documented specimen weighed 1,100 pounds!  For feral hogs (including in the U.S.), which are some mixture of wild boar and feral domesticated hogs, female adults average 150-170 lb, males 200-220 lb, with the occasional "hogzilla" approaching or exceeding a half ton (with 5-6" tusks!).

A fun (but gory!) fact to illustrate the stern stuff of which Suey scruffy is made:  the boar hunter of the pre-firearms era used a spear, the base of which he would plant in the ground behind him, holding the point of the lance at chest level on the boar.  Now, if one used a plain old spear, the boar would likely as not run right into the spear and keep on running even as the spear exited his backside, thereafter to go ahead and tear up the hunter with his self-sharpening tusks, regardless of having been entirely skewered.   So knowing their quarry, the hunters used a spear with a cross-piece at sufficient distance from the butt so as to keep the hunter safe from the savage momentum of the enraged swine.

Also, in the photo below, notice how the jaw bones flare out to the back, protecting the neck.  The protruding cheek bones offer similar protection.  Like as not, the boar will be charging you head-on.  Whether lancing with a spear, or shooting with a rifle, you have to hit this animal just right.

In a comparison of wild animals ranked by the how fast they are + their endurance + how much of a head start a running human would need to leave them behind, the wild boar came in third, behind the black and brown bear.  Outrunning these three beasts is the height of futility; climb a tree, if you can, or keep a tree between you and it. 

Obviously, such an animal has totemic significance, as people sometimes need ferocity—and who couldn’t use more toughness?  Even though you may have a gun, and dogs--even though he is doomed--a wild boar may attack you, and if you're not careful, tear up your legs with his tusks.  Those weapons of his are positioned perfectly on his head to gouge out your inner thigh with its major artery, leaving you to bleed out.

Even so, who wants to be like a pig?  Well in fact, the boar has long been a hero/warrior symbol, and as such courage and nobility are part of the lesson it teaches us.  Many don’t realize that the Warrior archetype in its purest form is not only about fighting, but also includes self-sacrifice in service to a cause, whether that involves actual blood warfare or not.   In other words, the likes of King, Ghandi and Mandela partook of this energy with particular intensity, though they used peaceful methods.  Indeed, pacifists can very well get into Warrior mode to make war on war itself!  If they have the tenacity of a warrior, or a boar, they just might help create a more peaceful world.



The boar has the additional characteristic of groundedness, since they are champion rooters and truffle-snuffers—and that’s a very good thing, since an ungrounded warrior is a very bad thing…

Heightened ability to strategize is also said to be part of this totem, and (as night follows day) prosperity.  This may be all the more striking when one considers the great, shining, golden-bristled boar "Gulli-burstin," whom Frey, the Norse god of sunshine, rode across the sky to create the daytime.  The bristles sticking out represent the rays of the sun--get it?  Gold is a symbol of wholeness, and certainly (as night follows day) prosperity.  Of course the sun itself (HERself, the Norse would say) well represents the very abundance that it kindles so naturally.

And so we return to the most basic level, in which we are reminded that the Twelve Days are Solstice revels in honor of the slowly-but-surely returning sun (BTW: today is 162 secs.—that’s 2+ mins.—longer than Dec. 21st was.  Woot-woot!).

Not only the Norse told tales of mythological swine.  Here is a blurb from the web site Kitchen Witch: “The Celts believed that the Boar, which they called Torc or Bacrie, was their ally in war and there are many Celtic myths surrounding this noble animal. A famous Irish legendary boar was Orc Triath, which the Goddess Brigit owned. In the Arthurian tales of the Mabinogion the boar Twrch Trwyth was a terrible foe to Arthur. The White Boar of Marvan sent inspiration to its master to write music and poetry (this was also true of Orc Triath).”…You’ve gotta love that last bit, right?  Next time you feel uninspired, go hang out with some mythological swine.

—Or attend, or host, a feast.  Because the boar (unfortunately for him) represents also the sacred principles of feasting, and hospitality.  Unfortunately for the SPECIES, it seems to have been a British custom to carry in a boar’s head on this day, singing a certain carol (the parading of the boar’s head in the present day at Queen’s College of Oxford University is probably an echo of this), as was more generally the eating of boar.  As a result,  the beast was virtually extinct in Britain by the 1100’s.  Now, when I was in Spain, things were different.  I walked across that whole country, and never saw one deer, rabbit, or squirrel.  But I saw wild boar face to face several times.  At one point, as I lay puking my guts out from giardia infection in the mountains, an animal came in the night, smelled me and my vomit, snorted, and took off.  Smart pig, she went off to fatten herself up on some acorns instead.

So again, it’s a question of questions  (to ask yourself): In what field(s) of endeavor in particular do I need more Warrior spirit—discipline, sacrifice, honor?  Where do I need more courage?  More basically, what cause can I dedicate myself to?  And how do I remain grounded when guided by a vision or mission?...What about throwing a party, a feast, sometime in the near future?  Alternatively, can I engage ongoingly in smaller acts of hospitality?

You could make a bristly “boar’s head” out of half a pineapple stuck with toothpicks festooned with cheese/ham cubes, marascino cherries, grapes or what have you.  Soak a bit of string in water and curl it around a pencil, then stick it in the freezer--when it freezes, you have a curly pig tail.  Cut off a bit of one end to reveal the golden fruit, and stick two cherries there for eyes, plus a crescent apple slice for a mouth.  ...At the very least, I encourage you to leave an apple or orange on your stoop tonight for the Great Golden Boar—and may he reward you with the best traits of Warrior, prosperous Host of merry feasts, or even the inspiration for a poem or song!

Or, if you hunt, and you have a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog, or a Blue Lacy Hound, and a fearless pit bull, you can go bag yourself some feral pigs.  As mentioned above, most of these have been crossed with wild boar, descendants of escapees who had been imported from Europe and corraled on game ranches across the U.S.  They and look (and run) more like Suey scruffy than like domestic pigs; they have a hairy hide, and have long legs. 

If your hunt is successful, you will be doing ecosystems in 44 states a favor, because these pigs are a pox upon the land, to be sure.  North American plants did not evolve to accomodate their rooting, wallowing ways, and, being omnivores like ourselves, they eat eggs and chicks and amphibians and the young of other animals.  Their presence is driving native species to endangerment and extinction as we speak (as are we humans--let's be honest).  They also wreak heavy damage on farmers' fields.  So, really, it's OK to kill them, even if you're a vegan because you care about the Environment.  They do not belong here, and all the beasts that might thin their numbers--cougar, black bear, grizzly, wolves--are in short supply, thanks to us.  Plus, wild boar meat is leaner and healthier than pork, being of higher nutritional value and having a much higher concentration of essential amino acids....However, with these feral pigs, you have to beware of trichinosis and other parasites and diseases (such as--yikes--hepatitis), so have your meat checked out, and cook it thoroughly.

TO READ: “Annie O’Reilly and the Magic Dancing Pig” from More Irish Folk Tales for Children by Sharon Kennedy; The Golden Bristled Boar by Jeffrey Greene, "Mabon Son of Modron" (a Welsh King Arthur tale of hunting the terrible boar Tyrch Trwth)--my favorite version of it is at the bottom of this blog entry, in its entirety.

MUSICAL CHOICES: (available on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdartdqjh56CMxj8VBAlWg_UcTQzIrk0i )

BOARS/PIGS
“The Boar’s Head Carol” by The Chieftains or Steeleye Span (this is the song they sing at Queen’s College);
“Hunter” by Dido; 
“War Pigs” by Black Sabbath;
“Piggies” by the Beatles; “Pigs” by Pink Floyd;
AND a long, long list of songs with the sun as it's theme.  You'll have your favorites, here's a list of mine that seem appropriate for The Fifth Day:

SUN
"Here Comes the Sun,"
"I'll Follow the Sun,"
"The Sun King" and
"Good Day Sunshine" by the Beatles;

"All For the Love of Sunshine" by Hank Williams, Jr.;
"Let the Sun Shine In" by The Fifth Dimension;
"Cold Day in the Sun" by Foo Fighters;
"Country Sunshine" by Dottie West;
"Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" by Elton John;
"Invisible Sun" by The Police;
"Island in the Sun" by Weezer;
"Keep on the Sunny Side" by The Carter Sisters/Soggy Bottom Boys;
"Miss Sun" by Boz Scaggs;
"Paper Sun" by Traffic;
"People of the Sun" by Rage Against the Machine;
"A Place in the Sun" by Stevie Wonder;
"Soak Up the Sun" by Cheryl Crow;
"Sun Comes Up It's Tuesday Morning" by Cowboy Junkies;
"Sun Goddess" by Earth, Wind and Fire;
"Sun Is Shining" by Bob Marley;  
"Sun's Gotta Shine" by Wilma Burgess;
"Sunshine" by the O'Jays;
"Sunshine Superman" by Donovan;
"Waiting For the Sun" by The Doors;
"Walkin' On the Sun" by Smashmouth

WARRIORS
"Warriors" by Imagine Dragons
"Warrior" by Aurora
"Heros" by David Bowie
"Hurt" by Johnny Cash
"My Hero" by Foo Fighters
"Kryptonite" by Three Doors Down
"Billy, Don't Be a Hero" by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods
"Heros Are Hard to Find" by Fleetwood Mac
"Hero Worship" by the B52s
"Hero of the Day" by Metallica
"Working Class Hero" performed by John Lennon/Marianne Faithful (the Faithful version is very gritty and cool)
"Heros and Villains" by the Beach Boys
"Waiting for Superman" by the Flaming Lips
"Superman" by R.E.M.
"Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" by Flaming Lips
"Superman" by Goldfinger

 
 MABON SON OF MODRON

Welsh Mythology tells us the story of Mabon ap Modron or the "the Great Son of the Great Mother". Mabon was an ancient God, born of Modron at the beginning of time, so long ago that even in the time of King Arthur, hardly anyone had ever even heard of Them. The only thing that anyone remembered of Mabon ap Modron was that when He was but three nights old, He was mysteriously stolen from His mother's side.

The story of Mabon's return begins with a young man called Culhwch (KESH-lookh). Culhwch was a brave young knight, who one day came across the lovely Olwen (Goddess of Beauty). Olwen was the daughter of Ysbaddaden (iss-pa-THAW-then), the Giant Chieftain, who was under a geis, or a doom.

No man had ever gone to the giant's fort and escaped alive, for Ysbaddaden knew that he would meet his death upon the day his daughter wed. He set 39 impossible tasks, which included so many heroic tasks and dangerous quests that it would take an army of heroes one hundred years to finish them, a separate volume to record them, and a course in Old Welsh merely to pronounce them. This he told each would-be suitor, that is, if he was able to survive the initial meeting of Ysbaddaden. Culhwch was fearful, but determined. Ysbaddaden then told Culhwch if he were able to complete each task, he would then have to bring the head of the Great Boar, Tyrch Trwth (terkh trooth). For between the ears of this boar lay a mirror, comb and razor, the items which must be used to prepare Ysbaddaden for his daughter's wedding. And the only one who could kill Tyrch Trwth was Mabon ap Modron, who was stolen from his mother's side at only three nights old. Culhwch accepted each challenge and confidently vowed to complete each quest victoriously.

"I need help," he thought to himself, "This quest is too much for one young knight to do alone. I must go to the court of my cousin, King Arthur, and ask him to send some of his champions with me."

Culhwch was greeted warmly at his cousin, King Arthur's court. Culhwch told the court of his great mission, and King Arthur, who had always loved a good love story, was touched by his young cousin's resolve.

"I will send three of my most trusted companions to help you find Mabon and rescue him," Arthur promised. He chose Cai (kay), Arthur's foster brother; Eidoel (AY-dol), who was called Mabon's kinsman; and Gwrhyr (GOOR-hear), Interpreter of Tongues, who could speak all the languages of all the peoples and animals of the world.

They wandered the earth searching for the Oldest Animals, and ask them if they could remember what happened to Mabon. At last they came upon the home of the ancient birth known as the Ouzel (Blackbird) of Cilgwri (kil-GOOR-ee).

"Ouzel of Cilgwri," Gwrhyr said, "we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

The Blackbird told them "I have been here a long time. When I first came here, there was a smith's anvil, and I was a young bird. No work was done on that anvil except for when my beak lay upon it in the evening, and today there is not even a nut of it that has not been worn away. But in all that time, I have not heard of Mabon, son of Modron. But since you come from Arthur, I will guide you to a place where there is an animal older than me."

Ouzel guided them through the forest until they came to the home of the Stag of Rhedynfre (reh-DEN-vray). The stag was very ancient. His antlers had so many points they looked like a forest of many-branched trees growing out of his head.

"Stag of Rhedynfre," Gwrhyr said, "we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

"I have been here a long time. When I first came here, there was only one small antler point on each side of my head, and there were no trees here except for a single oak sapling. That grew into an oak of a hundred branches, and the oak fell and wore away and today there is nothing left of it but a red stump. But in all that time, I have heard nothing of Mabon, son of Modron. But since you come from Arthur, I will guide you to a place where there is an animal older than me."

The Stag guided them through the forest until at last they came to a deep woods, where the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd (coom COWL-id) lived.

"Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd," Gwrhyr said, "we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

"I have been here a long time. When I first came here, I was a young bird, and this whole valley was an ancient forest. People came and cut down all the trees. In time, a new forest grew up, and then new people came and cut it down, and this now is the third wood. And look at me! My wings are worn to mere stumps, I am so old. And in all that time, I have heard nothing of Mabon, son of Modron. But since you are Arthur’s messengers, I will be your guide to a place where the eldest of us all lives."

The Owl guided them through the forest and up to a high mountain, where the Eagle of Gwernabwy (gwer-NAH-bwee) lived.

"Eagle of Gwernabwy," Gwrhyr said, “we are Arthur's messengers, come to ask you in the name of all that is sacred if you have news of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when he was only three nights old."

"I have been here a long time. When I first came here, I had a stone so tall and high, that from its top I could peck at the stars, and now it is worn away so small that your hand could cover it. And in all that time, I have heard nothing of Mabon, son of Modron."

Discouraged, the Companions prepared to leave, the Eagle had been their last hope in finding what happened to Mabon ap Modron. Wherever He was, He was imprisoned forever. But then the Eagle spoke again.

"Once I flew as far as Llyn Llyw (shlin shloo) seeking food. I saw a huge silver fish swimming in the lake. I tried to catch him, thinking he would make a tasty dinner, but he pulled me under and I barely escaped with my life. I gathered all my kin to seek vengeance, but he sent messengers of peace. He came and asked my help in removing tridents that had been thrown at him. I pulled 50 out with my talons, and we became friends. If he doesn’t know something of the person you seek, no one does! I will be your guide, and take you to where he lives."

The Eagle guided them down the mountain, through the valleys, and finally along the river until they came upon the shores of Llyn Llyw. There they saw the great Salmon swimming in the clear water.

"Salmon of Llyn Llyw," the Eagle said, "I have come with Arthur’s messengers, seeking new of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from His mother's side when He was only three nights old. In the name of all that is sacred, tell us what you know."

"This is what I know," the Salmon told them, "On every high tide I go up the river to Caer Loyw (care loy), and there I hear the sounds of such suffering that never in my life have I heard such distress before. Two of you come on my back, and I will take you there."

The salmon then took Gwrhyr and Cai on his shoulders to the walls of Caer Loyw, a dark and terrifying castle, and on the other side of the walls, they could hear the sound of crying and wailing.

"Who is that crying and wailing in this house of stone?" Gwrhyr called.

"It is I, Mabon, son of Modron," they heard in reply, "and I have reason to cry, for no one was ever so miserable as I am, imprisoned here."

"How can you be freed? Can you be ransomed for gold and silver or worldly wealth, can you be freed with peaceful talking, or must you be freed by fighting?"

"No gold or silver or worldly goods, nor even peaceful talking can free me," came the answer, "I can only be freed by fighting and battle."

"Don't despair! We will go and get aid from King Arthur, and surely we shall free you!"

Gwrhyr and Cai returned with the Salmon to where Eidoel waited with Culhwch. They thanked the Salmon and make their way back to King Arthur's court, where they told their story.

Arthur quickly agreed to lend aid to the imprisoned Mabon, and gathering all his warriors, they all made their way back to Caer Loyw, and besieged the castle where Mabon was held prisoner. While Arthur and his warriors attacked the front of the castle, Cai and Gwrhyr again traveled on the back of the great Salmon. And when they reached the gate, Cai broke through the wall and took Mabon upon his back. He carried Him out of the castle, and this is how Mabon, son of Modron, was freed at long last.

"How can I ever thank you?" Mabon asked them when the battle was over and He at long last stood on the outside of His prison.

"Help me with my quest," Culhwch said, "Only You can succeed in hunting the Great Boar Tyrch Trwth and winning from him the mirror, the comb and the razor that lie between his ears."

So they set off into the deepest forest any of them had ever seen. Day and night they traveled, and always, Mabon led the way, guided by His instinct. At last, as the sun set on the third day, they heard a great snorting and bellowing and stamping in the woods. Quickly they took their places on either side of the path. Then, with a roar like a hundred lions, the giant boar came rushing out of the forest. He was big as an elephant, with tusks as long as a small tree and sharp as a knife, and between his ears was a mirror, a comb, and a razor.

Mabon ap Modron, stood tall and unafraid, and thrust His spear deep into the Boar's heart. With a bellow that shook leaves from the trees five leagues around, the Great Boar died. Culhwch took the mirror, the comb and the razor from between the boar's ears, and he and his companions went back to the castle of the giant chieftain, Ysbaddaden. They carried Tyrch Trwth in a sling among the five of them, to be roasted for the wedding feast.

Ysbaddaden turned pale when he saw that Culhwch had returned successfully. Sighing, with tears running from his eyes, he allowed the companions to comb his hair and shave his beard while he gazed at himself in the mirror. Then Culhwch and Olwen were married, and a great feast of pork was held. And when all the feasting and rejoicing was done, they cut off the giant’s head

4rth Day of Xmas: Feast of Fools

 

Hello, everybody, and welcome to the Fourth Day, the Feast of Fools!  Whether you sing "four calling birds (meaning singing birds)" or "four colly birds (meaning black birds), " it’s the most foolish day of the Christmas Season--and if, for you, it isn't, then you’re not taking your foolishness seriously enough.  This day is marked by role reversals, riotous revels, and ridiculousness to the F^th degree.  Or it should be.

Does it trouble you to play the fool?  For today is a day of vice-versas: for parents to be children, and children to be parents (within reason—but not too much reason); for bosses to be employees and cashiers to be managers, pets to be owners, up to be down.  Or, it’s a day for as much plain silliness as you can stand...Well?  How much can you stand?  

Of course, it’s best to have a party on the Feast of Fools, in which everyone is encouraged to be outrageous via pie throwing contests, food fights, or a game wherein people write down “forfeits”—rigorously silly behaviors such as “shaving with real cream, singing the words of one song to the tune of another, juggling with oranges,” etc.  All the forfeits are placed in a hat, and your guests must perform the forfeit they pick from it.  Here in our house, making silly faces or acting like Wendy, our cat, or Boots, our dog, are definitely “forfeits”.  And/Or, everyone in the house could adopt the name of a Shakespearean or other “fool,” such as Hodja, Winnie-the-Pooh, The Fool, Trinculo, Costard, Launcelot Gobbo, Feste, Lavache, Nick Bottom, Thersites, Clown, Dromio, Grumio or Falstaff. 

READING LIST: Parcifal/Parceval (the “wise fool” of some Holy Grail stories, in one form an opera by Wagner); any Winnie-the-Pooh story; any of the Middle-Eastern “Goha” stories (he is also knows as Joha, Hodja, Mollah, or Mulla Nasreddin); any of Shakespeare’s plays in which a character plays the wise fool (most of them); any Trickster tales, from Native American Coyote to Brer Rabbit to African Anansi tales.

MUSICAL CHOICES [on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdartdqjh56C0yPQh3WGzS4noKJ4DGoMf ]:

FOOLS/FOOLISHNESS
“Fool on the Hill” by the Beatles; “If You Gotta Make a Fool of Somebody,” and “Fool’s Game” by Bonnie Raitt; “Fool Yourself” by Little Feat; “Certain Kind of Fool” by The Eagles (not available on YouTube) or the different song by the same name with a beautiful groove by Dysfunctional Caravan (available); “Foolish Games” by Jewel; “Now and Then (There’s a Fool Such As I)” by Hank Snow; “My Foolish Heart” by Krishna Das; “River of Fools” by Los Lobos; “The Waltzing Fool” by Lyle Lovett; “Fooling Around” and “You Were Only Fooling (While I Was Falling in Love)” by Patsy Cline; “Won’t Get Fooled Again” by The Who; “Fools Must Die” by The Pretenders; “What a Fool I’ve Been” - Carla Thomas; “I’m a Fool” by Dino, Desi, and Billy; “What Kind of Fool Do You Think I Am” by The Tams; “Fool in Love” by the Veltones; “Silly Love” by 10CC; “Ridiculous Thoughts” by The Cranberries

SILLINESS SONGS/HUMOROUS TUNES

Silly Love Songs - Paul McCartney & Wings; Siouxsie And The Banshees - Silly Thing; The B-52's - "Rock Lobster"; Cat Power - Love To Be Silly; Silly Game-Mathew Bradshaw; Tenacious D - Low Hangin' Fruit; Presidents Of The United States - Peaches; Flight of the Conchords- Business Time; "Weird" Al Yankovic - Amish Paradise;  Dear Pennis; "Weird Al" Yankovic - Eat It; Going the Distance Cake; THE J GEILS BAND - Flamethrower;  POWERS - Beat Of My Drum;  Harry Nilsson - Coconut; Hey Big Brain – (50's Classic Novelty Song); Rick Dees - Disco Duck; King Tut – Streve Martin (SNL); They're Coming to Take me Away; Ray Stevens - The Streak; "Weird Al" Yankovic - White & Nerdy;  Twelve Days of Christmas performed by Bob and Doug McKenzie; Weekend Update: Adam Sandler on Hanukkah - SNL; The Blues Brothers - Rubber Biscuit; "Weird Al" Yankovic - Fat; Basketball Jones; Chuck Berry Live 1972 ~ My Ding-a-Ling; Jump 'N The Saddle - The Curly Shuffle; Homecoming Queen's got a gun; Monty Python- Lumberjack Song; Santa Claus and his Old LadyCheech & Chong - Earache My Eye; Monty Python - Spam; White Trash Christmas TheBobRiversShow; Bryan Bowers - The Scotsman; "Weird Al" Yankovic - Yoda; "Weird Al" Yankovic - Christmas At Ground Zero; Tom Lehrer - The Hunting Song;  Jim's Big Ego - Stress; Arrogant Worms - Carrot Juice is Murder; Barry Martin--Butt Scootin' Doggie

 

3rd DAY OF XMAS: CHILDERMASS/HOLY INNOCENTS DAY

Happy Childermass (or Holy Innocents’ Day), the Third Day of Christmas!  Remember to water your Christmas tree, and to feed all three french hens (I suggest you place the feed in three separate piles around the pear tree).

While we're at at--Happy Dyzymas Day!...Er, see below.

BE GOOD TO THE "INNOCENTS" (ACTUAL CHILDREN)

Today is a good day to be extra special special sweet to children, in memory of those collaterally massacred by Herod in a frantic and frustrated attempt to protect his own position by putting the newborn king to the sword.  Ask yourself a question.  Have you REALLY appreciated a kid today, and shown it in no uncertain way?  Could they see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice?  Have you ‘beaten’ them with a small evergreen branch, and let them ‘beat’ you back while chanting “Fresh green!  Long life!  Give me a coin!”(this is an old tradition)?

Ask another:  in what way do you participate in destructive political/social/economic/ecological practices, which, of course, affect our children more than  anyone?...Well, for the love of Childermass, stop!....Instead let children’s ways be an inspiration to me, and to you.  Let the children come to me. Don't stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children....These are no uncertain terms, people.  Be nice to kids, and be like a kid, on Childermass and every day.

SLAUGHTERING OUR OWN INNOCENTS?!?!
OR--and this is purely from a psychological perspective, mind you--we can take the Jesus story with its Slaughter of the Innocents as a dream or a vision, rather than a history of actual bloody brutality in which innocent babies died.

IF every part and person in a dream is a part of the dreamer, then this dream means that the True Self has been born, symbolized by the Baby Jesus.  Whatever that entails in real life, be it selling all your crap to go tend to orphans in Honduras or becoming an artist or, like Scrooge, changing into a generous and warm-hearted person, or perhaps just sitting in wide-eyed wonder; it simply means that some choices or ideas have to be pruned away in favor of new ones.

In this case, the "innocents" would represent those lesser ideas and actions, which would literally have to be "killed" off, in a sort of "the good is the enemy of the better" scenario.  All those other babies look a lot like The One Baby--and they all have that lovely "baby smell" and may engender similar feelings of attraction and warmth--but somehow they are false, and have to go no matter how cruel it seems to say "no" to yourself.  My wife has a saying that she has appended to every email:  I will not give up what I want most for what I want right now--that's wisdom, but it's cruel, in a way.  Cruel to be kind.

To tender a concrete example, I could have two ideas in mind: 1) to draw or write poetry, which I don't do enough of; 2) to mindlessly watch YouTube vids, which is something I do altogether too much of.  They both have their attraction; they're both "babies" of mine.  But which one should  I raise to adulthood?...See what I mean?

In ancient Rome, Herod and his soldiers were genocidal brutes, 'nuff said.  In the individual psyche, the person who might be at fault would be the one to balk at renouncing ("slaughtering") those many non-priorities that fritter and waste our precious time.  This would be a form of passivity or naivete, an unwillingness to go to any lengths to live our true life (whatever that may be).

The moral of the story, so far, is to be good to actual, flesh-and-blood children, but "slaughter" your second-best desires in favor of your best.  

To take another point of view entirely, we can look at Herod as the jealous, avaricious ego determined to stop the birth of the new, true self at any cost. So, maybe that's what you need to focus on--your hostility to your best life....Think: what essential part of yourself have you attempted to murder today?  The answer to the last question is likely to be: the part that comes through when staying quiet and still; or when really cutting loose, dancing and singing and having fun; or when going to any lengths to follow your Bliss (meaning your calling or vocation).

I know...a necessary culling of shallow habits and the ego's vicious efforts to control it all seem contradictory.  If we "slaughter our innocents," are we not being like Herod in the story?  By the same token, if we adopt a position of self-righteous rage against Herod, the killer of Christ and Rome's toady, are we then conferring our blessing upon all those supposedly "innocent" choices we make that mask and postpone our True Calling?

But dreams and other spiritual stories are that way: different parts speak to different people at different times of their lives.  Such stories are many-faceted, on purpose; if that were not the case, then a given story would be valid for only one single phase of life, and not the others.  Great stories are layered, and can thus speak to different phases.  It's not so much that they are completely logical or consistent to our conscious brains, but rather that they are inclusive and are vivid from many different angles.  Rule of thumb: when deciding which interpretation of a dream or a myth to apply, you have to favor the angle that gives you that ah-ha feeling.

The Jesus story is like many hero stories in which the young godling is targeted by a powerful entity: Hera trying to assassinate Hercules, Set's dismemberment of Osiris, and on and on in different cultures and through history.  Why is that?  Because these stories resonate in our souls, at different levels all at once.

 

"DYZYMAS DAY"

In medieval times, this day was considered somewhat unlucky, in the sense that any project begun on this day would turn out a dud.  They even had a special name for the day in some places:  “Dyzymas Day”.  It does sound unlucky.  So don’t begin anything today, have yourself a merry little Sabbath instead, or finish things up that you’ve already started, if you must (I am going to touch up some paint on a shelving unit I've mounted on the wall of my son's room, and possibly finish fixing a bike I started yesterday; I don't see how anyone can get hurt).

JESUS IN THERAPY?
While you’re taking it easi-er, reflect on the griefs and joys of childhood—your own, your children’s; the single life’s vs. the parenting life’s—all the wonders and downfalls thereof.  Consider them through the eyes of compassion.  For it is not the morals proposed by others, not even by spiritual giants, but awareness that leads us to live effectively and not repeat the mistakes of others (nor our own).

For instance, let's say that when you were a child, your adults hurt you.  Let's say further that, as is typical, you have decided against directly experiencing that betrayal (because it hurts), and therefore have chosen to put on a happy face, or at least a numb one.  Despite our fortitude, our 'positive' resolution (renewed every New Year) to "let go" and "move on", the experience of having been hurt doesn't go away just because we ignore it.  In fact, the drive to take that pain out on another can become too much to resist if we have not found a way to process it in some healing way.  Repression breeds obsession, which in turn breeds replays, on an endless loop, of any trauma we refuse to consciously, and fully, recognize.  Look to the children.

This may sound like so much self-help mumbo-jumbo.  But I ask you, how are we supposed to resist repeating the abuse we ourselves have suffered, if we don't even allow ourselves to feel how bad it felt when it actually happened to us? That awareness is the most visceral of tools. 

 

If, instead, we deny it, and numb the pain, one day we find ourselves nagging at our kids the way that we were nagged at, or hitting our kids the way we were hit, bullying them the way we were once bullied--even if we had promised never to do so. And then, bring on the guilt and shame which will bury that original pain still further, and demand more relief and release by still further acting out of that pain. THAT'S a vicious cycle, if anything is.

No vicious cycles at Christmas, please!

Caveat sensor:  explore your pain gently, and with some kind of structure, some kind of plan, some kind of help, some kind of support.  Write about your life.  Do therapy.  Join an Adult Children of Dysfunctional Families group.  Read the books of Alice Miller.  Don't take my word for it; explore, and experiment.  Be inspired by the story of Jesus, or some other hero, but keep your wits about you.  Exploring your unfelt history is like eating extremely spicy, steaming food: take a small bite, chew, taste, digest--and, only then, poop it out. Don't open the floodgates and drown yourself.  The strongest growth is slow growth--ask an oak tree.

Again, the story of Jesus is a case study for how to deal with suffering; it is steeped in suffering and oppression.  Its backdrop was the suffering and subjugation of the Jewish people under The Roman Empire and the sellout Jew Herod, who did Rome's bidding. A principal theme is how the individual is to deal with the agonies inflicted by a powerful and narcissistic empire--a very relevant theme for today.  A primary feature is the torture and murder of Jesus himself.  

 

And Jesus wept.

 THE UN-IMMACULATE CONCEPTION
According to the standard interpretation of the story, his mother, Mary, was impregnated asexually by God's Holy Spirit--an event announced by an feathery, incorporeal angel in glowing robes named Gabriel.  

 

But nevermind all that; Gabriel was, according to the understanding of Jews at the time, a badass, macho, martial figure associated with the metal of armor and sword.  He was more like the gods Ares or Roman Mars than a feathery John Denver.  You couldn't have found an angel more dripping with violence and sex than Gabriel, and so you can't miss the resemblance of this scene to the seduction of Leda by Zeus in swan form: in one story you have angel feathers, in the other swan feathers; in both stories, a dude shows up, and a woman ends up pregnant...After all, God need not have sent a macho-man angel to Mary's room at all--he could have just made it happen in a dream.  He could have sent the relatively non-macho Barachiel, with his basket of bread and his rose petals.  But no, God sends the angel equivalent of Conan the Barbarian to "tell the news" of her "immaculate" conception to Mary....Uh-huh.

In turn, this immaculate-yet-sexy story may allude to a much worse one.  It is not at all unlikely that Mary was 12 or 13 when she fell pregnant, and was "with child" from having been raped by one (or more) of the Roman garrison stationed at Nazareth to hold down a recent insurrection there.  Let the idea of a 12-year-old girl being forcibly impregnated by Romans thugs sink in a minute....Then as now, rape was not just soldiers getting their sadistic rocks off, but a tool deliberately encouraged by the conqueror against the conquered, to terrorize the latter and disrupt its culture--and thus its resistance.  Rape was an effective tool of empire because it created trauma.

The rape of Mary, though speculation, was not at all unlikely.  In fact, the Gospel of Matthew does not shrink from reminding us that Joseph was of the lineage of at least 4 women tainted by sexual scandal: Tamar (slept with her father-in-law), Rahab (Pagan prostitute), Ruth (converted Pagan), and Bathsheba (for the lust of whom King David made himself an adulterer AND a murderer)...Even back in the day of Jesus--shit happened.

What's more, children of adultery, incest or rape were utterly rejected by the Jews; Deuteronomy 23 is clear, “A mamzerim (bastard) shall not enter into the congregation of the Lord, even to his tenth generation shall he not enter into the congregation of the Lord.”  Then as now, the children of rape are more likely to be whispered about, neglected, abandoned.  And yet our hero stories repeatedly feature a protagonist who at first was overlooked, undervalued and rejected: Joseph of Old Testament, King Arthur, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Little Orphan Annie.

So, at best, Mary bore her child under a harsh tradition of social ostracism against children born out of wedlock--nevermind that God was the father.  At worst, the historical Mary was pregnant for having been gang-raped as an early teen by a band of Roman soldiers, for whom sexual violation was a way of life and a tool of empire. 

Born into the ongoing Roman despoilment of his homeland, an infant in a bloodbath of infants, and a bastard to be shunned, Jesus nevertheless did grow up to coin his share of beautiful ideas involving lilies of the field and every hair on one's head being counted by a gentle, celestial father.  The Baby Jesus of Bethlehem would grow up to preach the blessings of Divine Love and the wisdom of forgiveness.

Nevertheless, he did have a word or two to say about the suffering engendered by an unwise but powerful people, as well (Hypocrites!  Fools!).  And he did, according to the story, consciously choose to be tortured and sacrificed for the greater good.  This was not a small thing.  Born into trauma, Jesus was not a person who avoided the experience of suffering, but embraced it.  He makes note of the fact that he could have the angels save him from the Cross, but of course he does not such thing.   This, and not avoidance, was his response to the massacre of the innocents.  He matured into awareness of the pain rather than avoidance of it.  

 

Perhaps he refused to avoid the suffering for fear of taking his considerable trauma out on others.

MERRY PRANKSTERISM (IN SPAIN AND UNIVERSALLY)
Let's shift gears.  Another, quite valid, response to the cruelty in the world is one of merry pranksterism: In Spain, Hispanic America, and the Philippines, December 28 is their April Fool's Day.  Pranks (bromas) are also known as inocentadas and their victims are called inocentes (naive fools); alternatively, the pranksters are the "inocentes" and the victims should not be angry at them, since "innocents, " like children, could not have committed any sin. Media like newspapers, radio, and TV often give fake content or distort news as well. Ha!

One of the more famous Dec. 28th celebrations is the annual "Els Enfarinats" Festival of Ibi in Alicante (on the east coast of Spain, 5 hours south of Barcelona), where the inocentadas dress up in full military dress and incite a flour fight....That's right, the air become fogged with flour dust, at which point all those Spanish smokers have to be very careful, because flour-fog, it turns out, is incendiary--one spark can literally explode the air (given this, it is ironic that they even shoot flour out of fire extinguishers).

CHRIST THE COMEDIAN
Christ was no night club comic--or so we think.  It seems to us that zero Jesus jokes have survived the censors, if he ever even cracked any.  Or is it that, like stuck-up and self-righteous Aunty Polly, we simple don't appreciate a humor that would have been obvious to the Israelis of Year Zero?  Says a Jesuit commentator, “The idea that a mustard seed would have sprouted into a big bush that birds would build their nests in would be humorous.  People in Jesus’ day would probably have laughed at many of his intentionally funny illustrations: for example, the idea that someone would have lit a lamp and put it under a basket, or that a person would have built a house on sand or that a father would give a child stones instead of bread. But contemporary Christians may be missing the humor that Jesus intended and that his audience understood."¹...So, there you have it: Jesus and Mel Brooks are of the same long line of Jewish comedians; we just don't get the jokes (no potty humor, is the problem).

But there is no reason that a conscious experience of one's suffering should be incompatible with playing pranks, or play in general.  In fact, I rather think they go together quite well.  As one reestablishes the flow of emotion, grief leads to mirth, and mirth to grief--and that's life.  Lechiem!

Happy Third Day!

MUSICAL CHOICES (playlist on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdartdqjh56BlbG4pyy0zviWRZSqsKsxc ):  "Coventry Carol," which if you pay attention is sung from the point of view of the mothers of the infant victims of Herod's massacre;  “What Child Is This?” (any version); “Mary’s Boy Child” (any version, I like Belafonte's); “Ooh Child” by the Five Stairsteps; “Children of the Grave” by Black Sabbath; “War Child” by Blondie and the different song by the same name by the Cranberries; “God Bless the Child” by Blood, Sweat and Tears; “I Thought I Was a Child” by Bonnie Raitt; “Wee Willie Winkie” by Bonnie Rideout (children’s song); “Where Do the Children Play” and “Oh Very Young” by Cat Stevens; “The Lost Child” (I have this as a choral piece on Christmas at the Pops album); “Magical Child” by Graham Nash; “Mahna Mahna” (any version); “Dreamboat Annie” and “Sing Child” by Heart; “Child of the Wild Blue Yonder” by John Hiatt; “Keiki’s Dream” by Keola Beamer; “Imithi Gobakahle (Children Come Home)” by Ladysmith Black Mambazo; “Call of the Child” by Nightnoise; “If I Could See the World (Through the Eyes of a Child)” by Patsy Cline; “Child of the Moon” by The Rolling Stones; “For Unto Us a Child Is Born” (any version); “The Rainbow Connection” by Kermit the Frog; “The Christ Child’s Lullaby” by Shawn Colvin (off Holiday Songs and Lullabies, a great album); “God Bless the Children” by The Staple Singers; “Lost Children” , and “When a Kid Goes Bad” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers; “It Wasn’t His Child” by Trisha Yearwood; “Wild Children” by Van Morrison; “Kumbaya” (any version); the whole Vince Guaraldi Charlie Brown Christmas album; “Children of the Revolution” by the Violent Femmes; “Kid Fears” by the Indigo Girls; “Ten Little Kids” by the Jayhawks; “Kid” and "The Wait" by The Pretenders;  “Bend Down the Branches” and "Take Care of All of My Children" by Tom Waits;  “The Cisco Kid” by War; “The Kids Are All Right” by The Who; "Young Hearts Run Free" by Rod Stuart; "Forever Young" by Bob Dylan; "Eyes of a Child" by The Moody Blues; The Little Drummer Boy" by whomever (the Emmylou Harris and Bing Crosby-David Bowie versions are really beautiful, The Harry Simeone chorale is a classic, Destiny's Child did their own unique take on the tune); "March of the Toys" and "The Toy Trumpet" by the Boston Pops (actually, the entire album Arthur Fiedler & The Boston Pops ~ Christmas Album
is very kid-themed and kid-friendly); "Another Wee Niece" and "Three Little Nieces" by Nightnoise -
---Ho-ho-hooooooo!  Any good kids’ music.

¹This article http://blog.bible/bible-blog/entry/did-jesus-tell-jokes , and this one https://www.ucanews.com/news/did-jesus-tell-jokes-definitely-says-jesuit-commentator/40898 address the goofy humor of Christ, the Messiah, King of Kings, who will come again to judge the living and the dead.