Saturday, 25 July 2020

Shrovetide Carnival

Shrovetide Carnival is one of the oldest folk traditions originating from the time before Christianity. In Slovenia, Shrovetide Carnival was first mentioned in the 17th century. Our ancestors believed that the ritual would chase evil spirits from the land.

The best-known Shrovetide figures include kurenti, laufarija, škoromati, otepovci, orači and zeleni Jurij or Green George...
Kurenti
On Shrovetide, hopping kurent carnival figures chase winter from the land.

Laurfarija
They wear wooden masks and run through the streets of Cerkno.

škoromati
Otepovci

Orači (Ploughmen)
Zeleni Jurij (Green Man)

The Cerknica Carnival is also reigned by Ursula the Witch alongside Jezerko the Lake Man, the Giant Pike Fish, the Dragon, Liza the Witch and Butalci. 
Ursula the Witch


Jezerko the Lake Man

Butale


Tuesday, 21 July 2020

A leap of faith...


Last night, I watched a documentary about the landing on the moon in the ‘60’s.  The first two-thirds of the documentary were about the preparation and landing.  It actually brought tears to my eyes, when Neil Armstrong said the famous sentence, as he stepped down off the last rung: One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.  That surprised me, that it should be so emotive.  I’m really not like that…
I recalled sitting in class with what seemed like the whole school packed into one hot room, watching a television set with doors on it that was wheeled out for the weekly educational programmes.  I was at a Catholic girls’ secondary school, and I must have been thirteen years old.  The school was only two years old, when I started there.  It was way out the back of town.  There was a sort of creek running through the school (more gully erosion than creek), with a log across which we teetered to get to the top “ovals” (read paddocks).  We saved all the scraps from lunch-time to give to the pig farmer up the road, and we burned all the burnable rubbish in an incinerator after lunch.  We all had jobs after lunch break.  For quite a while, mine was sorting the scrap-and-rubbish-buckets, putting the scrap buckets under the building, and setting light to the contents of the incinerator.  That was fun, as we (the two of us: a girl called Marguerite and I) were allowed into class a bit late, and we also had an exclusive kind of status.  However, Marguerite’s parents threatened to sue the school when she contracted hepatitis, and thus ended our foray into recycling.  I also recall looking out the window, one day, and seeing a cow meandering through the schoolyard.  Dora Stewart and I ran out to chase the animal out of the school grounds, and a good time was had by all. 
My father did not believe in the Moon Landing, even at the time.  He claimed that the moon did not exist- that it was merely the reflection of the earth in space.  He said that the publicity stunt was merely to take people’s minds off the Vietnam War.  He also said that someone had come and deliberately scraped the paint off our roof, that Mum was a communist, that some of the advertisements on TV were aimed at him, and that he was on a blacklist.  You get my drift…
So, last night, much of this came back to me, watching the ungainly, boxy shape of Neil Armstrong stepping down into the dust.  There was, unfortunately, a vague sense of cynicism in my enjoyment that had never really been there before.  What was it that the conspiracy theorists claimed about the American flag?  Something about a breeze that should not have been there, blowing the cloth.  They also claimed there was some object that didn’t belong, lying on the ground, that you could discern if you magnified the image.  These notions reminded me of the Beatles’ song that was supposed to say “Ringo is dead!” if you played the LP backwards.  Conspiracy theorists are often not cynics, at all, but people who long for mystery.
Anyway, the niggling of vague doubt was completely erased as I watched the third segment of the documentary in which the three astronauts spoke of the many years that followed the moon landing.  They spoke of being changed men; they spoke of the fact that they could never look at life or the universe in the same way.  “The landing on the moon was only one day in my life”, one of them said…”the rest has been devoted to Jesus”.  He explained that, on his return to earth, he had started attending a Bible-reading group, and that his newfound beliefs eclipsed that one day that was a turning-point in his life.  Another said how he remembered looking out of the Apollo and seeing the moon and the stars and thinking: “The earth, and everyone on the earth, and everything that man has made, is made of the stars… We are all one!” He told what a moving experience it was, to come to that realisation. 
I do not remember which old man it was who said which words, but I was struck by the awe with which they spoke, not of the moon, but of the earth.  “Sometimes, I just go out, and go on an escalator”, one of them said, “just to have people around me.  And I think to myself: We really do live in the Garden of Eden!  All men spoke of the strangeness of being one of only two men standing on a planet uninhabited by any others; of knowing that everyone else was down there on the earth, but that they were so far away, and so alone.  One described the loneliness of this realisation, but another described the feeling as euphoric.
Thinking about the documentary, later, it struck me how ironic it was that three men could travel so far, and under such unnatural circumstances, to achieve these insights.  Listening to the wonder in their voices, seeing the openness on their faces, there was no question, in my mind, that these men had experienced something extraordinary.  The image of the Garden of Eden came up several times, and I remembered the day I came to my own epiphany.  I can’t recall what I was doing- I certainly wasn’t setting foot on any celestial body.  But I recall the sudden understanding that the Book of Genesis is not a story about the past, at all.  It is prophetic.  We are living in it right now. 


 


Thursday, 16 July 2020

Please scream inside your heart...

The Fuji-Q Highland amusement park near Tokyo has an unorthodox request for its roller coaster riders.
"Please scream inside your heart," and not out loud, the park is asking. The unusual ask is meant to reduce the risk of spreading the coronavirus.






Tuesday, 7 July 2020

Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal.

Thank you so much for sending your stunning poetry to Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal.
I'd be happy and honored to publish your poem "Sky God"
in Issue 4 of Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal.
I would be honored to translate your poem "Sky God".

EDITOR: MYSTI S. MILWEE
SEQUOYAH CHEROKEE RIVER JOURNAL



Ann Martin Wonderful! You're a treasure, Phili! 
1
Anne Morgan CongratulationsPhilomena - you're a jewel in the crown of Tasmanian poetry.