The Child of Fortune and The Other Mother The Imposter of the 13th Archetype And as the frog foretold, so it happened; and the Queen bore a daughter so beautiful the King could not contain himself for joy, and he ordained a great feast. Not only did he bid it to his relations, friends, and acquaintances, but also the wise women, that they might be kind and favorable to the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but as he had only provided twelve golden plates for them to eat from, one of them had to be left out. --The Sleeping Beauty, Grimms Fairy Tales Echoes of the 13th Goddess archetypes historical occupation by an imposter is echoed frequently in the faithful storage bank of folk memory we call fairytales. Here, in nursery rhymes and princess stories, the unresolved dilemmas of cosmic shuffle lay encoded. A most obvious depiction of Arachnean imposition is illustrated in The Sleeping Beauty. The Power of Naming The power of naming a gift or curse over the young child of destiny illustrates both the miracle and misuse of our inborn faculty of manifestation. How we perform it signifies whether we choose the rebellion of creation (imposing our will upon life, solidifying the spiderweb of illusions: black magic) or the dance of expression (fluid interpretation through contributing our unique perspective to Infinite self-discovery: the pristine magic of revelation.) Arachnean impulses calcify the initiatory process into a linear boot camp of outwit, outplay, outlast. Based on the arrogant assumption that knowledge can be statically possessed (causing a flat freeze-frame overlaying the disc of life), naming is then used as a dark magic spell: calling something, that it might be solidified (casting a web). Our reality responds accordingly. For the nervous system merely responds to the signal given. Just as we have neurotic holding patterns or disturbances in myobalance that distort our shape, so has the abuse of the Naming Power seemingly calcified our movements within limited range of motion. Arianrhod, Isis and Maleficent execute this Arachnean distortion by framing growth as a curse of obstacles, or in simple terms, to create the context of lucky versus unlucky by grabbing at an existence already blessed with the potential of new beginnings and surgically implanting a curse of misfortune. The true power of Naming is to recognize as infinite all that is real to behold (the beholding of mutual inspiration.) In The Devils Three Golden Hairs, we find echoes of The Fourth Branch of the Mabinogion by displaying the War in Heaven between the triangulation of primary gods as the training ground for the child of fortune. The child of fortune is born with an innate unknowing knowingness, often meant to be a bardic initiate of the Highest Orders. (The child of fortune in frequent instances becomes synonymous with child of misfortune, such as Afagddu, for in the attempt to possess the outcome of the progenys life he becomes the coined currency of cosmic conspiracy.) Gwydion, for example--the ultimate traitor and tyrant of the Welsh pantheon--bears a name implying Great Knowledge (this is a generalization of a complex etymology which also bears connections to scientist, trees, weaver and other references of bardic sorcery); likewise the more well-known Lucifer, Bright One, both entities bearing a divinely ordained blessing. It is at the nexus of blessing and curse that we can decipher the paradoxical choice of expression versus creation. Grimms child of fortune, in The Devils Three Golden Hairs, illustrates how the map of the heros journey--which we have come to use as a guiding framework in our spiritual pursuits--was implanted with a neural network of deceit. In this fairytale, the child arrives on scene when the battle between the triad is already in full operation. He instantly assumes that he knows the answer to the lands plagues (a well that once flowed with wine, a tree that once bore golden fruit, and a ferryman who cant get out of his job, comprise the scenery of a paradise lost). We get the feeling he is traveling to the center of the wheel through a series of concentric gates, before arrives at the central lair where he obtains the lacking insights back from the devil at the center. Or more specifically, through the aid of the devils mother, who we will come to see is The Other Mother. In truth he does know the answer to the plagues, but has tricked himself in order to win jurisdiction of each concentric ring, locking the gates with lies. It is only a temporary holding of an infrastructure that is doomed to repeat by the standards set. His passport, I know the answer, but will let you know when I come back, paves the structure with half-truths and keeps the rings in linear time. Like any child of fortune, he was meant to be Lord of a Perspective -- as were the devil and king who test him -- but it becomes evident that he is using his station as a lord of the rim, to weave ropes of allegiance to the center of the wheel. The tale states that as a baby he was placed in a box and set to float upon a river, until he came to a mill where there was a weir. Gwydion likewise utilized the four-sided box to implant his foster son Llew into the disc from the Milky Way. Both initiates join league with the imposter of the 13th (in Grimm, the devils mother, in the Fourth Branch, Arianrhod), who in fact is not the true mother, but a product spawned from the triune battle, from the split into three. In order to turn from gods of perspective to lords of control, lie had to be made, a half-lie, and believed. This carved their path of influence into the disc of life, holding captive the insights that would have set the disc free, but by their own will and by the blindness of their refuge in the folds of the false mothers skirt. There they found out, through devious means, the passport through realms that their mendacity would not otherwise have morally allowed. Insights and passports are then used as trading goods between rival factions to maintain, secure or obtain marriage with the land. The marriage would solidify the illusion that they were living out an ordained destiny, when in fact they had fooled themselves: thinking they had seized the day, they had in fact hidden it away. Such arrogance arises from the pride of wanting to be special when they were already, in fact, blessed with a unique perspective. Despite their conquest, they harbor shame in having betrayed the True Mother but maintain seeming guiltless repose (just as the king of the bride in The Devils Three Golden Hairs, hid his vexation by feigning kind conduct as a coverup for his perpetuation of signal error.) We might feel overwhelmed by such a seemingly irreparable network of deception. Yet in its most basic form, this is the manipulative tactic of an immature child. Trying to trick mommy, but cheating themselves. The spider clan was merely used as an extension of the transmission of signal error, for in order to turn things backwards to solidify the fort they had made out of Her palace, they had to gain insights and then hide them. Demons are the entities who hold insights hostage. The spider clan put the sensory and proprioceptive nervous system in a compromised reactive state because it followed the commands of the paid-for knowledge. In The Devil with Three Golden Hairs, the child of destiny was born with a caul (intact birth sac); the people saw as his sign of good portend. The caul was never shed, for holding on to his portend, he became hidden in a cloak of dishonesty, and used the box of the four directions to travel in and out of density like the pharaohs used the sarcophagi. The caul became the moat on which he would bind his opponent to the task of going back and forth, symbolic of their duel. In The Sleeping Beauty, eleven of the wise women gave their well wishes before the uninvited thirteenth barged in and gave the curse of death by spindle. The twelfth had not given her wish yet, and though she could not remove the curse, she softened by saying it would not be a mortal death but merely a sleep. This has been a sleep perpetuated by the caul. We have cursed our slumber, yet had we not slept, the wheel would have been the end of our individuation and of the cosmic sparks presence (though meanwhile seemingly latent) of the real in the cosmic disc of life. We have felt that we live in a world that is not our home, and yearned to be with God in death. Yet God has been within us waiting for us to awake, and with this waking, a holy marriage. Yet it is not by marriage alone that we return to innocence. Resurrection merely reverses the Fall, and the Fall being but an unreal trick to begin with. Nor does simply eliminating the caul render us bare before the Throne. It may render us bare for a moment or two, but it will keep returning--as shall the sleep--until we literally replace the caul with restoration of incorruptible inseparability. This requires that we once and for all free ourselves from the paralyzing fear of intimacy with the Infinite, and the fear of being irreparably lost. The entire conundrum has been but a childs terror; how silly to think our Mother would banish us for playing a trick on ourselves, rather would she do all in her almighty might to help us see clearly. Yet this She cannot force us to do, for independence must come through sovereign budding of our own wings, that we might fly out of our prison back to the nest we ran away from, and find it an endless Temple of Heavenly Grace. Unlike the nervous system, a being cannot simply be told what to do or how to be and then automatically do or be it--to do this to the child would crush his spirit, not to mention his artistry, and do not all artists render masterpieces from the insights made possible by their mistakes? If we are to experience the union we crave for, the union we feel exiled from, how do we expect to live this if we still call separation bad and oneness good? Separation and Oneness are equally innocent (and illusory), as is the first relationship of Mother and Child. It is in releasing judgement that we can poetically activate the alchemical equation of separation (the gift of unique perspective) and oneness. We dont have to pay our tithes in the blood of our innocence. We have the keys. The Other Mother gives us the seeming boon of knowledge at the price of our innocence, entangling us in signal error and supporting our arrogant escapades. She attempts to summon us from the hidden places where we wish to remain in the closet about aspects of ourselves that we fear would jeopardize our reputation or destiny. She is a keeper of dead knowledge, of old patterns, and baits us with visions of a paradise lost, through nostalgic stimuli. She appears to be in a sort of distress of her own, or believing herself to have been wrongly usurped by a younger beauty, creating the sympathetic resonance of commiseration with our plight of striving. Whenever we do not live authentically--leaving the true 13th archetype behind / uninvited--we create a hole in our psychic space which becomes our meeting place with The Other Mother, who rushes to fill the absence of the void with an artificial replacement. Here, in the shame of our secrets and the hope of winning, she can only offer us pacification of our game at the cost of losing touch with our embodied truth. She tries to call us home,, to her Oz-like kingdom, telling us that her realm needs us in order to go on. Yet she is dead. Her realm is illusory. Her letters are from the past, in hopes of securing a successor through whom she can pass on her realm of the past. Maleficent, the uninvited 13th, seeks Sleeping Beauty as her inheritor. The witch, claims Rapunzel as her daughter. These foster mothers--who enter when we abandon ourselves--cling to a dying day and hunt young beauty to keep their dead She spurns us, curses and threatens us, yet stimulates our arrogance with the promise of an initiation via trial. Her preference would be that our stumble towards the spindle disembody us, rendering us somnambulist servants in her Otherworld hall, yet even in the softening of her curse is the hardening of her will to shape us through sublimation into a pawn of destruction. Notice it is in the act of reaching forth with the hand, a developmental somatic movement pattern, that the maiden pricks her fingers. This programs us to associate our garden of exploration and nourishment with pain and death. The Grimm Brothers call The Sleeping Beauty Rosamund, the Rose of the World, for unlike the lords of the rim, she has slept at the center of the wheel, which upon awakening becomes the source of the Rose DNA Template where direct inspiration flows from the Source. In our childs play we have played the trick of abandonment on our self, She has been there all along.
Posted on: Thu, 13 Mar 2014 18:43:36 +0000
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