Tag Archives: stories

Mythology {2} ~ Creation Stories {2} ~ The Japanese

Long ago all the elements were mixed together with one germ of life. This germ began to mix things around and around until the heavier part sank and the lighter part rose. A muddy sea that covered the entire earth was created. From this ocean grew a green shoot. It grew and grew until it reached the clouds and there it was tranformed into a god. Soon this god grew lonely and it began to create other gods. The last two gods it made, Izanagi anf Izanami, were the most remarkable.

One day as they were walking along they looked down on the ocean and wondered what was beneath it. Izanagi thrust his staff into the waters and as he pulled it back up some clumps of mud fell back into the sea. They began to harden and grow until they became the islands of Japan.

The two descended to these islands and began to explore, each going in different directions. They created all kinds of plants. When they met again they decided to marry and have children to inhabit the land. The first child Izanami bore was a girl of radiant beauty. The gods decided she was too beautiful to live in Japan, so they put her up in the sky and she became the sun. Their second daughter, Tsuki-yami, became the moon and their third and unruly son, Sosano-wo, was sentenced to the sea, where he creates storms.

Later, their first child, Amaterasu, bore a son who became the emperor of Japan and all the emperors since then have claimed descent from him.

Mythology {2} ~ Creation Stories {1} ~ The Hindu

In Hinduism the universe is millions of years old. In line with the Hindu belief in reincarnation, the universe we live in is not the first or indeed the last universe.

For Hindus the universe was created by Brahma, the creator who made the universe out of himself.

After Brahma created the world, it is the power of Vishnu which preserves the world and human beings.

As part of the cycle of birth, life and death it is Shiva who will ultimately destroy the universe. This is not necessarily as bad as it might sound because it allows Brahma to start the process of creation all over again.

Examples of how the origins of the universe are explained in Hinduism include:

~A lotus flower grew from Lord Vishnu’s navel with Brahma sitting on it. Brahma separated the flower into three parts – the heavens, the Earth and the sky.
~Out of loneliness, Brahma split himself into two to create a male and a female. From this male and female all beings were created.
~Another story makes reference to life coming from the cracking of an enormous egg, which is the life from which the universe is born.
~The Hymn of Creation from the Rig Veda concludes that nobody knows how the universe came into being and even questions whether Brahman knows.
~Some Hindu texts offer a more scientific explanation based on the evolution of primary elements from a single source.

These accounts, and others, were written many centuries ago in or around what we now know as India. They were not necessarily intended to be taken as literal scientific truth, but are indicators of the complexity and infinite nature of the universe.

Source: https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/guides/zv2fgwx/revision/7#:~:text=For%20Hindus%20the%20universe%20was,will%20ultimately%20destroy%20the%20universe.

Short Stories {4} ~ Kyoto Magic

Running through the Kyoto mountain range through winds beyond the realms of his monastery, Tiko had been instructed to find the essence of magic by his Zen master, Gikyo.

“What is magic?” the young Tiko mumbled to himself whilst dragging his feet, overlooking cherry blossom trees crowding the peaks of the cliffs. To Tiko, magic seemed something enigmatic and mysterious yet so close to home. In myths and legends many of the monks in his monastery had heard of the concept of magic yet Tiko could not quite comprehend it.

Tiko could see his spirit guide, No Face, hovering in the distance, patiently awaiting this young boy’s arrival. No Face, Tiko’s spirit guide, was a dark shadowy and loving being with two white eyes poking out from behind his black veil. “Tiko, can you see it?” whispered No Face as his student arrived. “Well, I see the eternal universe,” exclaimed Tiko.

‘Magic is the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with will,” No Face told Tiko both sitting on the wooden bench atop the Kyoto mountain. Tiko was fixated on No Face, his beloved guide, seen since birth, flowing in and out of his life, he felt safe in this spirit’s presence.

“When I say “magic” I don’t mean the stage craft of disappearances, card tricks, and other illusions — impressive as they are. I mean the practice of magic and magical thinking, the ability to shape our lives and the world around us through belief, ritual, and the invocation of forces far greater than ourselves; forces we may not fully understand, and which “work in mysterious ways,” as is often said,” No Face reached Tiko. “Magic is a neutral term, not inherently ‘good’ or ‘evil’, the intent and morality behind it is up to the practitioner themselves.”

Tiko took a deep breathe in and out correlating all his past knowledge from ancient texts, his teacher Gikyo words and No Face’s teachings.

“Magic is life, magic is the spells we cast on one another with our thoughts, magic is formless yet form, magic is the essence of life. Magic is love. Magic is silent yet loud. Magic is nothing yet everything. Magic is the indescribable and can only be experienced,” Tiko gasped turning to look at No Face. “Tiko, you never fail to impress me with your young, yet old soul wisdom,” smiled No Face.

Gleefully rushing back to tell Gikyo all he had learnt, No Face faded in and out of the third dimensional realm, observing Tiko between spheres, he was never alone. We are never truly alone.

Back in the monastary, Gikyo grinned and patted Tiko on the back. “Are you ready for your next task Tiko?” Gikyo said sipping his green tea leaves resting in his wooden chair by the porch. “Yes, of course,” said Tiko knowing No Face would be there to aid him on his journey.

Tiko slept on the monastery floor knowing No Face was always there to help guide him on his path to enlightenment; warm and satisfied with his day’s work he slept sound within the magic that cradled him.

~DiosRaw 02/04/21

Mythology #1: What Is Mythology?

Mythology (from the Greek mythos for story-of-the-people, and logos for word or speech, so the spoken story of a people) is the study and interpretation of often sacred tales or fables of a culture known as myths or the collection of such stories which deal with various aspects of the human condition: good and evil; the meaning of suffering; human origins; the origin of place-names, animals, cultural values, and traditions; the meaning of life and death; the afterlife; and the gods or a god. Myths express the beliefs and values about these subjects held by a certain culture.

Short Stories {3} ~ Paradox Diffusion

Years after searching for God in psychedelics, Rumi had not wavered in her quest for knowledge. Without the benefit of a prescribed social role, she did what she wanted, when she wanted, which was to learn without regard for convention. Today, paradoxes were circulating around her mind, determined, she would not sleep without finding her answer.

At other times and in other places, Rumi would have been burned at the stake, hailed as a prophet, or stoned. The present time simply ignored her. Normal people treated Rumi as a public garbage can, light post, or stalled car, as an obstacle that could be moved but numbed by her surroundings.

“Take your pills NOW,” shouted the nurse down the corridor, from Texas’s renound mental hospital for the “insane.” Rumi rolled her eyes as Nurse Truchin’s sharp voice echoed and bounced off blood stained walls, she was sitting in room 23, her white washed room “gifted” to her by her parents, they could not cope with her cosmic mind anymore. Rumi had been in Senora Texas Mental Hospital for two weeks and she felt on edge, this was her first time in an asylum. Rumi paced up and down her abode, she had to take those dreaded sleeping pills or else they would force it down her throat somehow. Reluctantly she calmly walked down the hallway and was handed her pill through the dorms pill shutter.

Rumi swallowed the pill. “Good, now go back to your room, checks are at 11pm, make sure you are in your bed or you know what will happen,” said Nurse Truchin coldly. Rumi said nothing, she would achieve nothing by responding and quietly returned to her room blocking out the screams from the room beside her’s.

Shutting her door, relieved, she lay on her bed staring at the white washed walls that had become her friend. What were paradoxes? How could two opposing propositions exist at the same time? The sleeping pills were making her more and more drowsy. Lonely and with a heavy heart she pulled the duvet above her head. “A paradox is a statement or problem that either appears to produce two entirely contradictory (yet possible) outcomes, or provides proof for something that goes against what we intuitively expect,” Rumi reiterated inside of her mind.

Hallucinating as she usually did on these pills, she saw imagery quite like her visions on magic mushrooms a few months ago. Warping geometric patterns danced in a trance with eachother as her eyes flickered going in and out of consciousness.

I will sleep on this Rumi decided in her mind drifting off into the astral planes.

Upon awakening her answer had arrived, getting out her notebook she wrote “Paradoxes lead you to God.”

On her day of release, after all this time pretending to act normal to get out of this hell hole of an asylum, Rumi saw Mrs. Truchin as “insane” and Mrs. Truchin saw Rumi as insane. Rumi quietly knew that duality breaks down into formless consciousness; she was sane in an insane world.

“I know one thing,” Rumi said to Mrs. Truchin as she left the asylum doors. “And that is that I know nothing.” Rumi remembered studying ancient Greek philosopher’s such as Socrates years ago. Mrs. Truchin took one bewildered look at Rumi and walked away. Rumi smiled to herself and smelt freedom once again, her taxi was awaiting to pass through the doors into the insane world.

Time is a construct of consciousness and in higher dimensions has no meaning. but, in the lower dimensions it is used to measure changes and in the multitudes of parallel timelines all simultaneously existing. Paradoxes melt into the all, Source, Brahman, Allah, whatever name you stamp onto formless ether.

~Amber, DiosRaw 01/04/21

Short Stories {2} ~ Life & Death Conundrums

In the heart of the lungs of the planet, Drogo was sent by his shaman to retrieve the wisdom, from the plant spirits on his dieta, of the concept of life and death.

Drogo, a young tribal boy from the mayani tribe had been initiated into an shamanic apprenticeship by his medicine man grandfather. He went hungry as part of his initiation to feel the full effects of his dieta and consumed the fruit of the Mondura plant. Drogo wandered into the undergrowth to his hut made by his father to undergo his apprenticeship.

Laying back on his hammock a spirit lingered in the back of his mind tell him “A long time ago life and death were best of friends, death saw life as a gift and life saw death as a gift. When the time came when people spread all over the world, life and death began to criticize each other. People view life in your tribe as the most precious gift from God and people view death beyond this jungle as something that no one wants. People have lost touch with the truth of reality, that your spirit never dies and your soul passes on into the realm overlapping yours.”

Drogo was an intelligent young man and understood every word of what the Mondura plant spirit said.

Within the scope of Drogo’s dreams that night, death and life were conversing with eachother. Death: “Why is it people love you so much where in fact you are just a dream, a fascination. No one will stay forever. Life is short and no person will live forever. Why is it people like you?” Then Life said: “Yes you are correct with that Death, I am just a dream, a fascination and I know Life is not forever. What is important is the things or deeds that you do during your earthly life. How about you death? I know you are the reality of life. That everybody dies, yet they do not die.”

The next morning Drogo wandered into his tribes camp and met with his grandfather by the Mondura tree.

“Life and death, two sides of the same coin,” Drogo exclaimed in a simple manner.

“Yes, my grandson, it indeed is,” replied his shamanic elder. “Now you know this, what will you do?”

“I am not afraid anymore grandfather, I am dead already,” Drogo echoed through the jungle.

Roars of the howler monkeys shuddered the ground beneath them, they said their blessings to the plant spirits and thanked them for their aid.

The jungle holds many secrets for the ones who see, all is here now.

~Amber, DiosRaw 31/03/21

Short Stories {1} ~ River Ganges Insanity

Washing off the days reminants within the womb of the River Ganges, in the ancient lands of India, a young lady named Anadi, combed through her dark black locks wishing she had fulfilled her guru’s daily tasks. Worried reverberations tensed her worn out body.

Anadi’s guru had instructed her to contemplate by the serene waters edge on the concept of enlightenment. She was trembling at the thought of going insane. Throughout her journey on the path of enlightenment she had visions of past lives, angelic beings, prophetic dreams and doubted herself, were these visions true or a figment of her mind turning her insane?

Observing the river’s candles lit each night floating along the river, Anadi realised in her mind “for the mystic swims in the same waters as the insane.”

Guruji initiated her, “you have understood the point.” Painting an orange hue on her third eye she became one of Guruji’s enlightened deciples.

“Yes,” Anadi proclaimed.

Anadi was no longer afraid of turning insane, she realised that insanity and sanity are part of the duality of this dualistic world. By using her mind towards the creator, and only him, she would return to sanity through the insanity she was so worried of.

As she lit her candle, with empowering energy flowing throughout her physical vehicle, silently whispering a prayer her body aroused from the dream of the dream she was living in. In the hypnotic state she was in upon waking, she had met her dead guru in her dream reassuring her she was not going crazy.

That very young morning, when everyone was asleep and the birds were churping their morning symphony she said her daily blessings by the river Ganges. “For I am sane in an insane world” she echoed through the nearby caves.

“I have travelled through madness to find me,” she screamed.

Madness is somewhere between chaos and having a dream. Anadi made sense of the dream by plunging into it and moving with the dance. For those who did not hear the music, those dancing were deemed insane.

And the world kept on spinning and weaving it’s cosmic web…

~Amber, DiosRaw 28/03/21

~About The Author, My Story: Amber, DiosRaw~

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