The Will O' the Wisp: Go ahead, go into the lights.

LYRIC O’ THE DAY:

Are you the future or are you the past?

Have you been chosen or are you the last?

--Supernova Goes Pop, Powerman 5000

It seems fitting that my re-emergence into the blog scene be spurred by Lydia Kang, since she got me into blogging in the first place.  But a random email from Miss Lydia about a movie was all it took.  

I’m that easy.

Honestly, it’s time for me to wake up again--to rise from the ashes that I left you with in April.  The past few months I have been that girl in the too-tight yoga pants, hoping to the god of Ashtanga that my seams don’t split when I downward dog.  I suffered some disappointments in my writing, and I let it mess with my head and steal my muse.  So in response, I immersed myself in my day job, starting some projects that are grand and scary and exciting and completely different from what I was doing.  I’m creating a curriculum on quality improvement and patient safety that combines resident physicians with administrative leaders.  I’m helping in the roll out of an Electronic Health Care record for my hospital.  And now, I received a scholarship to obtain an executive MBA in health care.  I have been fighting some personal wars--i.e. figuring out what I want out of life.  You know, to paraphrase Patrick Swayze in that cinematic masterpiece, Roadhouse, deep existential type bullshit.

Swayze getting his zen on.

And what was my epiphany?  Have I had a Chopraesque moment?  Maybe.  I discovered that I’m thinking too much.  I need to put away the self-imposed pressure and concentrate on living life to the fullest, day by day.  Hour by hour.

And most importantly, to throw fear to the wind and follow the lights.

Fake? will o' the wisp in Finland

Which leads me to the subject of this blog rebirth--the will o' the wisp.  Apparently in the Pixar movie Brave (highly recommended by Miss Lydia), there's quite a bit about this entity.  Although I have not seen the movie, I do know about the will o' the wisp--my grandmother used to say it was the souls of babies who died stillborn, which is a Czech superstition.  

Pixar's will o' the wisps.

Yes, my ancestors were a wee bit morbid.  

The will o’ the wisp is a ghostly light seen by people at night, usually over bogs and marshy ground.  It looks like the flicker of a lamp and has led many a traveler astray as they try to follow the light.  Other names for this phenomenon include ignis fatuus, hinkypunk, pixy light or jack o’lantern.  Numerous folk tales involve the will o’ the wisp, and generally involve a malevolent character that leads people astray and “off the beaten path.”  People will follow the lights for miles, thinking they are beautiful fairies or angels, only to become hopelessly lost or worse, drown in the bog.  Perhaps this is a disguised social more about the importance of conformity.  Don't go off the path, or you'll be sorry.

Ignis Fatuus, a 1990s Doom Metal band from Finland.

In some European tales, the light represents a lost soul, trapped between heaven and hell.  These poor souls are desperate to get to their final resting place and will try to kill another person in order to "piggy back" onto their soul.  If you are confronted by these souls in limbo, you should first turn your cloak inside out.  However, given we are in less cloak wearing times, another alternative is to stick a knife into the ground.  Apparently the spirit will then try to destroy itself on the knife and you can escape.


This clip from The Princess Bride covers cloaks and accounting in one fell swoop.

Eastern mythology has a different take on the will o' the wisp, linking it to the magical part fox/part human creature called a kitsune.  The will o’ the wisp has been said to represent the foxfire that these creatures produce, also called the "hoshi no tama".  Foxfire holds the kitsune's magical power, and some traditions believe it represents the soul.  In some myths, the kitsune is portrayed as a seductress that will possess a human's soul, and lonely travelers are warned to avoid areas known for foxfire sightings.

Artist's rendition of a kitsune with its foxfire.

In South America, the will o’ the wisp is called Boi-tata and is a serpent with fiery eyes.  Believed to be a type of anaconda, this creature only leaves its cave home at night in order to eat the eyes of its victims.  The light collected from all of this eyeball feasting makes it glow.  In Argentina, the phenomenon of Boi-tata is dreaded as it represents otherworldly activity, specifically the appearance of Satan.

Snake eye humor.

Science has attempted to explain the phenomenon of the will o’ the wisp.  Methane is a highly combustible gas produced by decay of organic materials, which are in abundance in marshy areas (as well as in the human intestine).  Other chemical agents like phosphine oxidizing can produce photon emissions, igniting on contact with oxygen in the air and then spreading into adjacent methane pockets.  The combustion is said to occur at lower temperatures, which explains why nothing around the flames is burned and that we don’t have swamps on fire all over the world.

Methane gas ignited in a marsh.

Skeptics argue that these lights almost seem to have intelligent behavior, following a viewer and seemingly receding and approaching.  Two professors in 1993 proposed that tectonic strain produced the lights by heating up rocks that contained piezoelectric particles (quartz/silicon).  Piezoelectricity is simply electricity that results from pressure.  Movement of the earth puts these rocks under significant stress, thus producing electrical charges that are channeled to earth’s surface.  Other natural reasons cited for the will o' the wisp is bioluminescence of certain types of fungus found commonly in marshy area.

Bioluminescent mushrooms.

Whether caused by spirits, nature, or a trick of the mind, the will o' the wisp provides a cautionary tale--or does it?  I think at some point in life you have to decide if you are going to continue on a safe course--or are you going to be wooed by the mysterious and potentially dangerous flickerings of possibility?  Will you allow the things that paralyze you with fear to become reality, or banish them as spirits in the night?  (Or if you’re of the scientific ilk, like a fart in the wind.)

I’ve made that decision now.

And I’ve never been a beaten path kind of girl.




Thanks to everyone who sent me words of encouragement these past few months.  I've missed you, and the gypsy now has a fire in her soul.

The Phoenix from the Flame

LYRIC O’ THE DAY:

But I will rise

And I will return

The Phoenix from the flame

--Troy, Sinead O’Connor

I have left the poor blog desolate, dusty and seemingly dead.  But there’s still some life left.

Perhaps I can coax something to spring from the ashes.

The Phoenix is a fitting mythical beast for me these days.  For ancient scholars, it was the feathered embodiment of rebirth and immortality.  For current theologians (myself included), the idea of a personal rebirth keeps the mythology of the Phoenix alive.  Not to mention that whole Harry Potter character thing.

Fawkes, the bird that saves the day.

The earliest reference to a Phoenix-like bird is found in The Book of the Dead and involves the purple heron. The ancient Egyptians believed this bird sprung from the chest of Osiris, the god of death and the afterlife.  The heron, aka the benu, represented the soul of the rising sun--an entity that could never be entombed.  As the heron took flight every morning, the ancients believed it brought the light for both life and consciousness.  As it dived into the fiery sunrise, it brought the chance to be reborn.  So is a purple heron Fawkes’ long lost ancestor?

The purple heron.

When the Greeks came along, they put their own spin on the myth of the bird of the rising sun.  They dubbed it “phoenix”, a word that can mean either crimson or palm tree.  Greek historian Herodotus claimed the sacred bird was a real species that lived in a well by Phoenicia on a nest of palms.  He described it with crimson and gold feathers, resembling an eagle.  The Greek Sun god Helios was rumored to stop by each morning to hear the beautiful song of the Phoenix as it bathed in the well.  Let’s hope the people of Phoenicia had an alternate water source.  

The Roman poet Ovid also wrote about the Phoenix, claiming it ate nothing but air and frankincense.  Ovid gave detailed accounts of the bird’s fiery demise, although given that sort of diet, my professional opinion is that the bird died of starvation instead.  Especially since spontaneous combustion cases usually are linked to the more corpulent birds among us.

The Greek Phoenix had a 500-1000 year lifespan and was said to be a solitary creature (generally male).  So perhaps the spontaneous combustion gig is actually a consequence of being lonely and sexually frustrated for a millenia.  Then again, maybe he was just tired of having Helios stop by every day for a little cheap voyeurism.  

"Yeah, wash that wing a little longer."
Raphael Mengs "Helios as Midday"

According to ancient historians, at the end of its life, the Phoenix built its nest from oak branches or palm trees, anointed its wings in spices and aromatics in a disturbing sort of self-basting, and then settled in for the big bang.  Fear not though, after the parent bird bit the proverbial dust, a new Phoenix arose.  As a last tribute to its predecessor, the young Phoenix gathered the remains of the funeral pyre into a sacred egg and took them to the city of Heliopolis in Egypt, depositing it in the temple of the Sun.  This cycle of adult to egg was a symbol of the cycle of life and its continual flow.

Tacitus, a Roman historian, supported the claim that the Phoenix was indeed a real animal in his Annals of Imperial Rome, citing that one was seen during Claudius’s reign.  He espoused the healing powers of the ashes of the Phoenix--although certainly with a 500 year production wait, probably not the best pharmaceutical out there.  

The poet Martial also included the phoenix in his works as a symbol of Rome’s eternity.  From there, some early Christians used it as a symbol of Christ’s resurrection before the cross caught on.

Roman fresco showing Christ with a Phoenix

Of all the myths of the Phoenix, I find the Chinese myth of the Feng Huang the most intriguing.  In Chinese mythology, the Phoenix is the symbol of sacred power granted to the Empress--a symbol of the female power.  It is often pictured together with the dragon, a symbol of the male power.  Together they represent the merger of the yin and yang (male and female).  It is a bird of grace and elegance, with courage, wisdom and was seen as a sign of good luck and justice.

The Feng Huang has been described with a cock’s head, a snake’s neck, a swallow’s beak and a tortoise’s back.  However, in most artists’ renditions, the creature is transformed into a magnificent bird reminiscent of a peacock.  The colors in its feathers (red, white, yellow, green, and black) represent the qualities of virtue, duty, integrity, humanity, and dependability.  The symbol was so well known in Chinese culture that Confucius used it in his philosophical teachings, saying that "the phoenix appears no more,”  when he spoke of corruption in the Chinese government.

In literature, the Phoenix is a popular piece of symbolism.  Shakespeare and Hans Christian Anderson both have poetry dedicated to the creature.  Eudora Welty’s character Phoenix represents the regeneration of the South in the short story, The Worn Path.  Sylvia Plath in Lady Lazarus alludes to the Phoenix in the line “Out of the ash, I rise with my red hair.  And I eat men like air.”

Terri Rosario's interpretation of the Phoenix

There’s even a flower with the moniker, and is connected to a Chinese folktale.  The Phoenix fairy flower came to be after Ling-Li, a virtuous woman sews herself a beautiful wedding robe.  Unfortunately, her evil neighbor steals the robe and destroys it out of spite.  The scraps are blessed by fairies, and begin grow in Ling-Li’s garden.  The story is a tale of the triumph of a pure soul and its ability to rise above devastation.  In the states, the Phoenix fairy flower is related to a wildflower called jewelweed.

Jewelweed, a relative of the Phoenix fairy flower

Spring is a time of renewal for me.  The miracle of watching the seasons change fills me with inner unrest--a demand that I clean out the closet of my soul.  This year, I’ve hit a wall.  The hard fact that the things I want are not materializing as I had hoped.  I have to create something from the ashes, so you may not hear much from me until I’ve filled my feathers with spice, laid on my nest of palms and let go of the past.  Let's hope I'm more successful than these dudes doing the cinnamon challenge.

I will return.  Like the Phoenix from the flame.

How do you rise from the ashes?

But don't feed them after midnight: multiplying memes

LYRIC O’ THE DAY:

My end, it justifies my means.

--Before I Forget, Slipknot

Bloggy Memes are the internet form of Mogwais.  They multiple quickly, and it can be difficult to figure out what to do with them.  Still, they are damn adorable, and I love you all for thinking of me. 

I have received some fab awards here of late, and it’s now time to acknowledge the fab people that passed on their bloggy lovin’ to me. 

Trisha over at Word + Stuff gave me a Kreativ Blogging Award.  The tithe is to list 6 things about little ol’ me.

Kathleen over at Reading, Writing and Life gave me a Sunshine Award, which is just such a great thing.  Makes me want to dance to Katrina and the Waves.  It comes with some specific questions to answer.

Wendy at The Red Angel gave me a Sunshine Award and a Lucky 7 Meme.  The Lucky 7 is pretty cool, you take your current ms, go to page 77, go 7 lines from the top and those next 7 lines are your tithe.

Suze at Analog Breakfast gave me a Versatile Blogger award, too, and she wants 7 more random facts about yours truly.

So without further ado, here is a plethora of memes.  You might want to make sure your blender is working--not sure what these things will do once I start to feed ‘em, and it’s getting close to midnight.

Six random facts about me:

1.  I find commercials that feature talking food really creepy, especially that Chips Ahoy commercial where the cookie has eyeballs.  Why would something I'm going to eat tell me how good it tastes and want me to eat it?  

Ooooo. . .wait, is this Freudian?  Because if I think like an anthropologist (see my last post) that means Chips Ahoy is trying to make me think of sex and chocolate chips. 

  

2.  I love garage sales with a mad passion.  My dad and I spend spring and summer digging through other people’s junk.  I’m hoping to have an American Pickers moment of greatness one day, maybe find a Monet and live for the rest of my life on easy street.  Or maybe I'll just find Suze's Cap'n Crunch Fire King mug, which would be almost as good.

I'm coming for you, Cap'n.

3.  This is one of my favorite pieces of art, an oil painting by a Polish guy named Beksinski.  They're apocalyptic lovers, and it really strikes a nerve in me.  To me, it symbolizes the kind of love that if you had just moments to live before annihilation, you'd wrap yourself around the other person and never let go.

4.  I am double jointed and can put both legs behind my head like a pretzel.  Strange how I didn't have more dates in college.  

5.  I was a Teacher’s Aide for a Human Physiology lab in college.  Consequently, I can castrate a rat in less than 5 minutes.  It takes me a little longer if he gets to his car first.

6.  The first real concert I went to was Metallica (pre-haircut and Napster) in Des Moines, Iowa.  I was almost smashed on the mosh pit floor until this giant burly dude pulled me from the fray like a tattooed god reaching from the heavens.  I'm still a fan of big burly tattooed guys, just look at my romance selections.  FYI, Gena Showalter has awesome tattooed warrior dudes.  

And another seven random facts about me:

1.  My husband and I are the product of a one-night stand that has turned into 15 years.  You can meet someone you'll love forever in a bar, I'm living proof.


2.  I love to be scared--one of my dream trips would be to go to the Stanley hotel (of The Shining fame) and spend a night.  Just as long as there are no clowns involved.  Clowns scare the freaking hell out of me.

The Stanley Hotel.  Just looks scary.

3.  When I’m tense, I pick at my pinky toenails.  As a result, they are horrifically deformed.  Think Hobbit feet.

4.  I hate turtlenecks on men.

5.   I’m a huge fan of musicals--Pippin and A Chorus Line are my favorites.  I briefly entertained a musical theater major in college.  Now I just sing in the shower.


6.  I know all the lines to The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  My fave song is “Toucha Toucha Toucha Touch Me.”

7.  I can do a pretty good imitation of Animal from the Muppets screaming “WOMAN!!”  

Specific questions about me from the Sunshine Award:

Favorite Color: Green.  

Favorite Animal: The Honey Badger.  They’re small, ferocious, can use tools, and secrete a substance from their anal glands that can calm bees.  What’s not to love?  

Favorite Number: 13.  No triskaidekaphobia here.

Favorite Non-Alcoholic Drink: Ice tea, unsweetened.   On the alcohol side, I love red wine and red beer.

Facebook or Twitter:  I like Twitter, because it’s one of those things where the name really does describe what it is.  I find Facebook odd--there’s a lot of sharing of things I don’t think necessarily should be shared, even if it is only with 10,134 of your closest friends.  Facebook also makes me realize that some of the people I know are narcissistic, self righteous assholes.  And the rest of the people I know just like cat videos.

My Passions: My family.  I have two little boys that hung the moon and make me remember what living is all about (some days the definition of success is watching Scooby Doo videos while wrapped in a warm blanket).  I also love to run, and I don’t feel right if I don’t go at least five times a week, even if it’s only for a mile.  Finally, I love to make people laugh--humor is what gets me through the day.

Getting or Giving Presents:  I am obsessed with gift giving--it’s nearly a sport to find the perfect gift for people I know.  I love finding something unique that totally defines that person.  I'm so not a gift card gal, unless I'm desperate.

Favorite Pattern: Paisley.

Favorite Day of the Week:  Any day I don’t have to work my normal job.

Favorite Flower:  Irises and lilies are tied.

Finally, here is the Lucky 7 meme.  This excerpt is from my novel, “Wheel of Fortune.” It's the story of Jorga Volf, disgraced plastic surgeon forced to move home and reconcile with her family--a clan of Czechoslovakian carnies who run their tiny town like a redneck mafia.  Page 77, seven lines down goes a little like this:

About three years ago there was an earthquake in Nebraska, only about an hour from here.  It lasted fifteen seconds and rated 3.5 on the Richter scale.  My fourth cousin Joey became a local celebrity after the ABC affiliate from Omaha came out and interviewed him regarding his injuries.  He’d been on the toilet when it happened, and a bottle of Liquid Plumber fell out of the cabinet and beamed him right on the head, putting him in a coma for three days.  Guy still stutters.

I was perched on the bathroom vanity, trying out this purifying facial masque Stasia had when the house suddenly shook with a force so violent, I accidentally poked myself in the eye with a clay covered finger.  Limited by monocular vision, I stumbled out of the bathroom into the hallway just as another shock went through the house, this time accompanied with a deafening explosion of glass.

Thanks all of you for sending me your memes and thinking of me; I hope I didn't miss anyone.  Lately I've been a little thin in the blogging department--when life starts getting hectic, it seems to be one of the first things I have to put a hold on.  Stuff like this makes me remember how much I love the writerly community.  Have a fantastic weekend!!

And for those of you (Mr. McCarthy, where are you?) who came solely for the nudity I promised?  Here ya go:

Will Ferrell, naked.  You're welcome.

I See Your Evil Eye and Raise You Ronnie James Dio's Grandma

LYRIC O’ THE DAY:

They looked backward and said goodbye. . .she had become like they are

She had taken his hand. . .she had become like they are

--Don't Fear the Reaper, Blue Oyster Cult

Envy. 

A deadly sin capable of leading to eternal damnation.

But envy may be more than just a threat to your soul, it could affect your neighbor's as well.

Envy is associated with the evil eye, aka the matiasma, malocchio, or mal de ojo.  The evil eye is the belief that the act of envy can transmit bad luck, illness, or in some cultures, impotence.  

Something as simple as a compliment gets the eyeball rolling.  Although the name evil eye implies a victim being cursed, the true meaning is closer to coveting, and generally is done without ill will.

The concept probably started in ancient Greece and later passed to ancient Rome.

Medusa, the evil eye on steroids.

Most strong believers are in the Middle East, central America and Mediterranean Europe, but more than one third of the world’s cultures believe in the evil eye.

A Berkeley professor by the name of Alan Dundes has a unique theory about the origins of the evil eye folklore.  He links it to water and its importance in the more arid regions in the world.  He cited that the afflictions blamed on the evil eye included babies vomiting and becoming dehydrated, breastfeeding mothers (or livestock) losing their milk, fruit withering on the tree, and impotency in men.  Basically, to give the evil eye is to cause another to "dry up."  Given dehydration and its effects were a serious threat in these areas, this could be a plausible etiology of the superstition.

"Maybe you just need a glass of water?"

The evil eye typically is not done with malicious intent, but some people may have the power to cast an evil eye--whether they want to or not.  In Southern Italy and Sicily they are called jettatores.  They are not necessarily evil people--just cursed with a terrible power.  How to tell if you’ve met up with a jettatore?  Although envy is commonly associated with a green eyed monster, those with blue eyes are reputed to be more likely to carry the affliction.  You should also avoid the more hirsuit--unibrows are a sign of a jettatore as well. 

You really wanna know what happened to Mr. Hooper?

How do you avoid passing on the evil eye?  In some countries, it is customary to spit after giving a compliment, thereby removing the potential blight of the praise.  Others believe a true annointment of spit is needed--although this is probably better reserved for blood kin. 

In cultures more wary about swapping spittle, you may just touch the person who you compliment to take away the focus of the evil eye.  And what if someone praises you and doesn’t follow these rules of evil eye engagement?  Some cultures have special prayers of protection.  If you aren't one for memorization, another method is to speak ill of yourself to negate the praise.  I always knew self deprecation had a purpose. 

For those of you with a heavy metal side, Ronnie James Dio offers this simple hand gesture to aid in avoiding the evil eye. 

  

RIP Dio

The sign that Dio learned from his Italian grandmother (and now is flashed by legions of metalheads) is actually an ancient hand gesture called the mano cornuto, or “horned hand” in Italian.  Contrary to popular belief, the mano cornuto does not represent the horns of Satan--this is a more recent appropriation of the gesture.  The horned hand historically symbolized the horns of a virile animal, usually a bull.  Pagan religions used it to represent the male consort of the Earth mother goddess.  It's the hand gesture equivalent of showing off your manhood, no power tools or flexing necessary.  When used as an offensive gesture, it indicates to another man that he has been cuckolded.

A French satire representing cuckoldry with horns.

Some anthropologists give the mano cornuto a more feminine view, believing it represents the sacred lady garden--i.e. the fallopian tubes and uterus.  (I have two friends who are anthropologists, and believe me, everything leads back to sexuality eventually.)  Their explanation for the use of the gesture to ward off the evil eye is simple:  when the thumb is inserted between the index and middle finger, it becomes a representation of the phallus nestled safely in the lady garden, unscathed by the hairy eyeball of emasculation.

What to do if despite all of your spitting and gesturing you have been evil eyed? First you may want to confirm your affliction.  The Greeks do this by performing a xematiasma in which olive oil is poured into a bowl of water while chanting prayers--if it forms an eye shape, the curse is confirmed.  If you are lacking oil, try rubbing an egg all over your body and then breaking it open--if the yolk looks like an eye, the deed has been done.

If you can find the person who is responsible, have them spit 3 mouthfuls of water into your mouth to lift the spell.  If that doesn't work, get their phone number and try dinner and a movie instead.  Taking another egg and rubbing it over your face and body, then burying it in a shaded place hidden from the sun is also a cure.

There are many talismans used to repel the evil eye.  The simplest (of Kabbalah and Madonna fame) is the single red string tied around a wrist. 

Others are amulets in the form of an eye, a hand, a horseshoe or some combination thereof.  By wearing an eye, you mirror back the evil eye, thus negating it.   A blue bead gives similar protection--possibly a crude representation of the blue eyed devil that is apt to give the evil eye.

Again, some scholars cite sexuality as a link to the use of an eye-like symbol as a talisman.  The eye worn as protection symbolizes feminine power--aka the cervix.  In the male, an eye mimics the one eyed wonder worm looking right at you.

I'm thinking Anthropologists may put some of the best erotica writers to shame in terms of creativity.

In India, cloth crocheted with tiny mirrors can be a way to avoid the eye.  The hand of Fatima is also a charm, often incorporating an eye within the palm to represent the reflective power of God's grace.

For men, a talisman in the shape of a horn, often cut from coral, may be worn to protect the family jewels.

Since the moon goddess is said to be the mentor of mothers and milk, any crescent shaped talisman will also do the trick.  In ancient Egypt, an amulet carved of red jasper called the Girdle of Isis was popular as a talisman against the evil eye.  When the anthropologists got involved, some postulated that this buckle shaped bauble was a representation of


--wait for it--


the menstrual pad of Isis.

The Menstrual Pad of Isis?

Menstrual blood was considered by many ancient cultures to be all powerful and representative of the possibility of creation of life.  Wearing a symbol of that blood was protective against threats to fertility and sustenance of life.  Interestingly enough, Isis was the mother of Horus, whose eye symbolizes luck, wealth and good health and is often used as a talisman to ward off the evil eye.  A modified version of the eye of Horus even graces U.S. currency.

If you’re not a jewelry person, there are other ways to ward off the evil eye.  In Sicily, a lemon pierced with nine nails can be placed above the threshold, thus barring a jettatore from entering.  Snakeskin also neutralizes the power of the evil eye.  For those with more culinary leanings, a head of garlic with only one clove is often used by gypsies as a talisman. And as recently as the the early 20th century, it was customary to dress little boys as little girls in order to ward off the evil eye.

For men, even if you’ve been caught without a talisman, you’re in luck.  Just grabbing your anthropological source of power may be enough to thwart any malocchio.

The Biebs is just warding off the evil eye, y'all.

Have a beautiful week!  Stay tuned for some disturbing factoids about myself courtesy of a plethora of taggings recently.  There will be nudity.  And maybe an anthropologist.

.