A Creation Myth From Guinea: Death and His Son-In-Law

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Blackbird singing in the death of night…
a fundamental truth 🙏🙏💖👍

Myth Crafts

Now, we all know that if you have a companion, things can get complicated; when you add a child to the mix, things can easily go from complicated to downright problematic.

This was the issue facing Sa, also known as Death. He, his wife, and his daughter were (apparently) the only beings in creation. Not just that, they were the only “things” in an eternal darkness. Verily, Sa, his wife, and daughter were the only forms in a formless void, beings adrift in the Great Empty.

Sa, however, had Magic on his side; words that could be used to speak existence into being.

“I can fix this”, he thought to himself.

And so, using his incantations, he invoked a river of mud.

Aesthetically pleasing? Probably not.

Practical – well at least for the (non)-time being.

On top of this river of mud, he built a hut big enough for the…

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Rude people|افراد بی ادب

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Never judge before ge

A Voice from Iran

Story by: Laleh Chini

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Adam worked in a flower shop near the very crowded entrance of a subway.

Every day he opened the flower shop early, and after a few hours, the owner showed up to work. The owner was an older woman, very kind, and talented at her job.

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She had been working at her shop for more than forty years. Now that she wasn’t able to be at her shop for more than a few hours, she hired Adam to teach him all her magic talent and sell the shop to Adam in small payments.

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Adam was a handsome boy with long hair and attractive eyes. He loved working at the flower shop, especially being the future owner.

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Adam was very kind and friendly to all the customers. Hundreds of people walked to the shop daily, some new customers and some regular.

One day a beautiful young girl…

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#lessons learned from @CorneliaFunke and #GuillermodelToro: #write a #fairytale to enrich the #history of your #story.

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Fairytales for ever ❤❤🙏👍⚘❤❤

Jean Lee's World

Once upon a time, when magic did not hide from human eyes as thoroughly as it does today…

“The Mill That Lost Its Pond”

You know the words.

Once upon a time.

So many fairy tales begin this way. Like river stones bridging shores, we travel with those words from our world to another, eager to see what lies beyond.

Filmmaker Guillermo del Toro has been luring his audiences to cross reality’s river for years, but this summer he and author Cornelia Funke did more than lure us over the river. They led us through the hills past Grandmother’s house into a forest where past and present seemingly grow as one.

According to IndieWire,del Toro had wanted to expand on the folklore within his fantasy film Pan’s Labyrinth, and I’m so very glad he did. The book’s a beautiful reading experience from cover…

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Jazz Age Wednesdays — Toasting a Ghost in the Kitchen

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😊❤❤

Teagan's Books

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

I’m still celebrating the launch of A Ghost in the Kitchen. 

I wonder if Pip will ever learn how to cook.  It seems like she always lands in hot water, but I don’t think that’s what Granny Phanny had in mind.  As if Pip didn’t find enough distractions on her own, now there’s a ghost in Granny’s kitchen!

A Ghost in the Kitchen -- Three Ingredients 2. Image by Teagan R. Geneviene Promo image by Teagan Geneviene for “A Ghost in the Kitchen”

Sheiks and Shebas, those of you who have scheduled in the near future, and those who have already hosted my book launch have my heartfelt thanks!  I hope you could tell, because I’ve found that WordPress has been eating a lot of my comments when I visit your stop on the trolley.  I apologize for that. 

Yes, I’m celebrating, so I tried to make a real life Roaring Twenties champagne cocktail!  This one is a perfect match…

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Desmond of the outer sanctorum

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These words, this poem 🙏🙏❤

Lance Sheridan

The sky is becoming excitable, as I propped my brain
Between a genuine interest and a weather; these
Clouds, with their white lids and water over my head,
Dumped buckets of water much as a cream color
Into my piece of coffee with the intention of wishing
Me a good morning. The amusing side more certain
As the necessity never dwindled. Perhaps it was
All an illusion, which may not be peculiar in everything.
And very strongly I may be fainting: the perfect way
To accustom the thing. It took mercy and relaxation
And even a cloud strength surrounding my sanctorum
To decrease a holy mess. It is so rudimentary and a
Creamy substance strangely to mingle in my awakening.

The clouds pass and pass, it is impossible to tell how
Many there are. I did not want any of them, only
A dark substance in a morning cup, supposing…

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Leonard Cohen

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Happy birthday old chap and companion 🙏💖💖🙏

words and music and stories

Leonard_Cohen

Today is Leonard Cohen birthday. The Canadian artist was born in Québec on 21 September 1934.

He began his career as a poet and novelist, then he ventured into music when he was in his thirties, and is now remembered for both his literary works and his musical creations.

The year before his death (7 November 2016),  he began working on a new album, although he was suffering from health problems and intuitively knew that the end was near. This album, which focused on issues like death, God, and humour, was released in October 2016, when Leonard Cohen was dying.

🎵 There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in. 🎵

“Anthem” (from the 1992 album The Future)

(C’è una breccia, una breccia in ogni cosa
È da lì che entra la luce)

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The Death and what Now!?

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For Whom the Bell Tolls
by John Donne: http://www.yourdailypoem.com/listpoem.jsp?poem_id=2118

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.”

Please believe me that I don’t want to be a sad messenger here but just an ambassador of faith.

It has just reminded me of this poem, which I and many others would know this from the novel; For Whom the Bell Tolls  by Ernest Hemingway when I got to know the sad news about my wife’s brother who had died the night before.

He was ill I must add this here; he was actually an unlucky boy; born as the last child (my wife has or had ten siblings) of a working-class family, with a humpback and was also epileptic. It was not enough, he had often got hardly beating by drunk father now and then.

Anyway, he’d grown up with his miserable fortune and became also an alcoholic, like his father. When I’ve got to know him I was a professional musician and he became a true fan of mine!

In any case, he’d lived alone in the supervised home almost all his life and after getting some hard psychological seizure, he had brought to a hospital till his last hours.

Of course, his death was not a loss in our life because of fewer connections in the last years, and when I’ve got the news by my wife, I’ve just thought; it was surely as a salvation or redemption for him at last. Truly, I wish I never live in this condition!

It just remembers me when I was in the hospital with my brother in almost a state of coma for about ten days, and I have mentioned in the last day his hands and feet getting thicker, I asked the nurse; what’s happening? His body doesn’t work well anymore, she said. Then I got to the balcony at the very evening to smoke a cigarette; I just tell heartily; Oh my lord, please take him to you. Don’t let his beautiful body get worst, save his beautiful soul, take him now!

Then, in the same night he’d died. ❤ ❤