As they do, the edges of the net lift up, letting light escape from underneath.
The Rune Master yells and the warriors howl.
Rune Master: Haugen Maunen
Rune Master: Ok Alfadhir heitir
More crows caw.
Drummers, Rune Master, and warriors slip into a hypnotic beat and chant. Dodo watches mesmerized as more light escapes from under the net and begins to spin.
Suddenly, a black crow appears underneath him. It flies towards some of the falling fragments and gobbles them up. Then, it disappears.
A white crow appears on the other side of the falling pieces of mother and child. It gathers fragments in its beak and disappears too.
Dodo doesn’t know what is happening when a white wolf appears underneath him devouring more falling fragments as it runs. It too disappears. The white wolf is followed by a black wolf who appears near the net and the drummers. It runs up the line of falling pieces towards Dodo eating every single fragment except for the piece containing the mother’s head, torso, and the baby.
Now it is just Dodo and this single fragment descending through the void to the beast.
Drummers, warriors, and Rune Master chant, releasing more light that spins faster and faster until the whole thing look like a little galaxy.
The Rune Master and warriors switch their chant to:
Yggr ok Yungir
This seems to accelerate the descent of the final fragment. Dodo can’t breath, nor he can look away as the fragment falls faster and faster until it comes to a stop just above the net. It hoovers here for a moment, then it splits into four parts and falls like water forming a circle above the glowing purple body of the beast beneath. Then, the final four fragments transform into beings–three women and a man–who stand in a sacred circle above the beast.
Dodo doesn’t know if he should to be excited or terrified for the whole thing looks dreadfully like a blood ceremony that he saw in a picture book long ago.
“Oh — this terrible, really terrible,” Dodo moans. “They are going to sacrifice me in a ritual to appease this greedy purple God-Beast. This must be hell!”
The Divine Dodo is moving to Sapience2112 to accommodate future interactive animations. Please visit here to follow: https://www.sapience2112.com
Special Thanks to Heilung for their amazing music: Alfadhrhaiti and to the translators.
Dripper, Greedy, Ravenous, Slippy, Swaying one Hail, Hail, Hail I dedicate to the spear, Gagaga, Gagaga, Gagaga I yell resoundingly Thought, Memory, And he’s called Allfather Mighty Thuler, Wise one, Striver, Wolfspeaker, Welcomed one, Pale one, God of witches, Inciter, Cheiftain, Readhead, Hooded one, Wandwielder, Famous lord, God of the hanged, Nebulizer, Needed one, Yulefather, Evenhigh, Attacking rider, Allfather, Victory tree, Father of victory,One with a missing eye, God with painted shield,Flashing eye, Shieldshaker, Leader of the crowd, One with knowledge, Shaggy-cloack wielder, Guardian of secrecy, Terible one and Stormy one.
Submitted by Fiikus on Thu, 09/03/2017 – 10:04 and Last edited by Fiikus on Sat, 21/10/2017 – 15:40
I woke up this morning clinging to a fragment of a dream where I was sitting quietly listening to a lesson being given by someone I could not see, but who was saying, “The sea is within…within every human being.” I knew this to mean the Sea of Unconsciousness—the vast, uncharted water churning below the surface of normal consciousness filled with hidden feelings, thoughts, and ideas—things that have been buried or have never risen to the light of consciousness. To most normal men and women who go about their daily lives following expected norms and traditions, if such hidden content suddenly became conscious, it would seem strange, even alien. But, there is so much that lies hidden underneath the thin surface of reality that “normal” human consciousness uses to navigate life. Humanity after all has only been on Earth for but a brief moment of time when compared to Earth’s geologic history or to the cosmological origins of the universe. Compared to these measures, humans are but blips in time. But still, even in this blip of time, humans have come to dominate pretty much all life on our planet, even while grasping only a fragment of the whole of consciousness existing within each of us and all around us—like water.
Recently, it has felt to me as if I am a survivor of some great disaster on this sea, and I am surviving only by clinging to a little bit of wreckage scattered on the surface of this endless Sea of Unconsciousness.
This feeling is due to circumstances beyond my control and is probably the reason for the dream, which I interpret as an ongoing effort to understand and make sense of these extreme circumstances. Something else that resonated recently in my sense-making mission is the Coen Brothers’ movie A Serious Man (2009). Yes, I know I’m late in getting around to watching this movie, but sometimes I think we see things when we are supposed to see them and when we need them. And, so I needed it now, and I really related to poor Larry Gopnick who is the main character and a person who has been living by all the rules and beliefs he was taught to follow until he encounters a string of strange reversals and even spooky circumstances that flip his reality upside down. What befalls Larry is so disconcerting and destabilizing it threatens to undo everything he has ever worked to achieve. In addition, he is poorly equipped to deal with or understand his circumstances. So, he seeks help from the Rabbis at his synagog, but each encounter leaves him more bewildered and baffled than before.
For a good read and analysis on this movie, go to: This Ruthless World; specifically, to the March 23, 2012 post: What Does this Movie Mean? “A Serious Man” (2009). However, I would like to highlight several spectacular observations this blogger makes about this movie. Number one, she says the movie is a commentary on the idea that we are taught to just accept things as they are in life and sail through it without looking for answers; however, this same attitude is what costs Larry his marriage, his family, and his home. She further points out that the viewer might first assume the moral of the story is: “If you don’t tend to that garden, someone else will;” however, the moral really goes much deeper, sinking down into the idea that “the ‘wisdom’ of unthinking, indifferent existence is absolutely wrong and spiritually destructive.” And, this is so important!
Carl Jung believes this is important too, which is probably why I am obsessed with his writings since previously I posted about the Archetype of Meaning and the Archetype of Life. However, Jung says much more about both archetypes, especially in relation to sense-making and meaning, including the following:
“It always seems to us as if meaning—compared with life—were the younger event, because we assume, with some justification, that we assign it of ourselves, and because we believe, equally rightly no doubt, that the great world can get along without being interpreted.
But how do we assign meaning?
From what source, in the last analysis, do we derive meaning?“
This is a fantastic question that is worthy of every human being’s time and attention; however, it can be difficult work, especially when one is forced to do it due to circumstances that decimate one’s prior beliefs and systems of thinking—like Larry. I use the word decimate deliberately for when we are growing up, we are taught certain beliefs and ways of thinking in accordance with our culture and society (or tribe). These things are supposed to help us make sense of the world and give us a vehicle by which to navigate life’s ups and downs. However, systems of thinking and beliefs are much more like diverse and different wild animals that have been tamed by culture and society to help people survive living together over time. Thus, if one’s conscious landscape is decimated due to a great calamity that kills off a large number of the wild animals (i.e., systems of thinking and beliefs), then it becomes necessary to regenerate the land (i.e., conscious ground), and then to find and tame new ways of thinking and beliefs in order to go forward again. Loneliness ensues, especially for a person who has been thrust unexpectedly into this process, because family, friends, and larger community who have not been crushed by the same circumstances often remain quite happy to go on living in the same systems of thinking and beliefs that defined one’s previously shared reality.
Jung answers his own question of where meaning is derived, and thus how it is gained, in the following way:
“The forms we use for assigning meaning are historical categories that reach back into the mists of time—a fact we do not take sufficiently into account. Interpretations make use of certain linguistic matrices that are themselves derived from primordial images.”
Lets stop for one second to consider the word primordial. Jung uses this word a lot as he advances his theories of consciousness and the unconsciousness. However, I suspect it may create some confusion, so here’s a basic definition of primordial:
Existing at or from the beginning of time; primeval —“the primordial oceans”
(especially of a state or quality) basic and fundamental — “the primordial needs of the masses”
Biological: (of a cell, part, or tissue) in the earliest stage of development.are
To Jung, primordial means all of these things in relation to the origins of consciousness. He believes consciousness existed at the beginning of time and that it is a basic and fundamental state that all living beings are immersed. He also believes there are developmental stages of consciousness that can be traced back through time much like a human embryo transitions through key evolutionary stages before becoming a fetus that will become a human being. Thus, primordial images are structures in consciousness stretching back to the beginning of time. They form the blocking blocks of thoughts and our psychic nature. Thus, primordial images are crucial in helping a person make sense of their world and to find meaning and purpose, especially after a great calamity shatters one’s previous beliefs and ways of thinking.
Now, back to Jung who continues saying:
“Interpretations make use of certain linguistic matrices that are themselves derived from primordial images. From whatever side we approach this question, everywhere we find ourselves confronted with the history of language, with images and motifs that lead straight back to the primitive wonder-world.
Take, for instance, the word “idea.” It goes back to the concept of Plato, and the eternal ideas are primordial images [and thus] stored up (in a supracelestial place) as eternal, transcendent forms [Note: thissounds very much like where the ideas for gods and goddess emerged from the Sea of Unconsciousness]. The eye of the seer perceives them as “imagines et lares,” or as images in dreams and revelatory visions [like my dream].
Or let us take the concept of energy, which is an interpretation of physical events. In earlier times it was the secret fire of the alchemists, or phlogiston, or the heat-force inherent in matter, like the “primal warmth” of the Stoics [i.e., a member of the ancient philosophical school of Stoicism and a person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining], or the Heraclitean (ever-living fire), which borders on the primitive notion of an all-pervading vital force, a power of growth and magic healing that is generally called mana.”
I think it is important to take another moment to consider just who the heck Heraclitus was; so, from Wikipedia:
Heraclitus of Ephesus was a pre-SocraticGreek philosopher, and a native of the city of Ephesus, then part of the Persian Empire. He was of distinguished parentage. Little is known about his early life and education, but he regarded himself as self-taught and a pioneer of wisdom. From the lonely life he led, and still more from the apparently riddled and allegedly paradoxical nature of his philosophy and his stress upon the heedless unconsciousness of humankind, he was called “The Obscure” and the “Weeping Philosopher”.
Heraclitus was famous for his insistence on ever-present change as being the fundamental essence of the universe, as stated in the famous saying, “No man ever steps in the same river twice” (see panta rhei below). This is commonly considered to be one of the first digressions into the philosophical concept of becoming, and has been contrasted with Parmenides statement that “what-is is” as one of the first digressions into the philosophical concept of being. As such, Parmenides and Heraclitus are commonly considered to be two of the founders of ontology. Scholars have generally believed that either Parmenides was responding to Heraclitus, or Heraclitus to Parmenides, though opinion on who was responding to whom changed over the course of the 20th century. Heraclitus’ position was complemented by his stark commitment to a unity of opposites in the world, stating that “the path up and down are one and the same“. Through these doctrines Heraclitus characterized all existing entities by pairs of contrary properties, whereby no entity may ever occupy a single state at a single time. This, along with his cryptic utterance that “all entities come to be in accordance with this Logos” (literally, “word”, “reason”, or “account”) has been the subject of numerous interpretations.
I like this guy! Now, back to Jung again:
“I will not go on needlessly giving examples. It is sufficient to know that there is not a single important idea of view that does not possess historical antecedents. Ultimately, they are all founded on primordial archetypal forms whose concreteness dates from a time when consciousness did not think, but only perceived. “Thoughts” were objects of inner perception, not thought at all, but sensed as external phenomena—seen or heard, so to speak. Thought was essentially revelation, not invented but forced upon us or bringing conviction through its immediacy and actuality. Thinking of this kind precede the primitive ego-consciousness, and the latter is more its object than its subject. But we ourselves have not yet climbed the last peak of consciousness, so we also have a pre-existent thinking, of which we are not aware so long as we are supported by traditional symbols—or, to put it in the language of dreams, so long as the father or the king is not dead.”
I want to draw your attention to Jung’s idea that primitive humans experienced thought very differently than modern humans experience it. He says thought for primitive humans came as visions, disembodied voices, dreams, and probably even disembodied ghosts and phantoms—stuff from our own consciousness, but humans had not yet developed the powers to perceive and grasp that these things were coming from within. This must have been a time in human development when the world was spectacularly magical as well as unimaginably terrifying for demons are just as likely to pop out from the unconscious as well as fairies or benevolent helpers. No wonder our ancestors developed elaborate myths, rituals, and traditions designed to tame such occurrences and give them cohesion, structure, and function so they could understand and maybe control them, and perhaps, most importantly, so certain psychic states do not inadvertently tear to shreds the fragile shared reality that was being created by early human tribes—and thus the vital role of medicine man, medicine woman, shaman emerged—people who could travel into these obscure and shady realms of consciousness and return with wisdom.
Art by Bébé
Jung goes on to give a lively account of how unconscious thought can pave the way for conscious solutions by recounting a dream a young theological student had and his analysis of the dream (pages 33 to 37). I will not go into this dream, only noting it involves the dreamer, a handsome old man dressed entirely in black known who is known as the black magician, a magician dressed entirely in white (you guessed it… the white magician), and an extraordinary event that occurs in a country ruled by an old king who is near his death. In Jung’s analysis, it is important to know the two magicians are two aspects of the Wise Old Man who is the superior master and teacher that is known as the Archetype of the Spirit symbolizing the pre-existent meaning hidden in the chaos of life. He tells us that theologian’s dream reveals the old men are trying to show the dreamer how good and evil function together, and presumably to help answer an unresolved moral conflict within the Christian psyche (p.36). Jung writes:
“Modern man, in experiencing this archetype, comes to know that the most ancient form of thinking is an autonomous activity whose object he is. Hermes Trismegistus or the Thoth of Hermetic literature, Orpheus, the Poimandres (shepherd of men) and his near relation the Poison of Hermes, are formulations of the sam experience. (p.37)” (Note: Hermes Trismegistus was credited with tens of thousands of highly esteemed writings, which were reputed to be of immense antiquity. Plato‘s Timaeus and Critias state that in the temple of Neith at Sais there were secret halls containing historical records which had been kept for 9,000 years. — Wikipedia)
If the name ‘Lucifer’ were not prejudicial, it would be a very suitable one for this archetype. But, I have been content to call it the Archetype of the Wise Old Man or Meaning. Like all archetypes it has a positive and a negative aspect, though I don’t want to enter into this here. The reader will find a detailed exposition of the two-facedness of the wise old man in The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairytales.
The three archetypes so far discussed—the shadow, the anima, and the wise old man—are of a kind that can be directly experienced in personified form [that is we very easily project them onto other human beings or animals or things in nature]. In the foregoing I tried to indicate the general psychological conditions in which such an experience arises. But what I conveyed were only abstract generalizations. One could, or rather should, really give a description of the process the archetypes appear as active personalities in dreams and fantasies. But the process itself involved another class of archetypes that one could call the Archetypes of Transformation.”
Just like the post from This Ruthless World, Jung is advising us to pay attention to the stuff in the shadow and to sink into the place where wisdom whispers for to not do so is at one’s own conscious-spiritual peril. Thus, I think I’ve come full circle from where I started with my dream that said “the sea is within”—the sea I am floating on now as I try to find new conscious structures that might instill new meaning and purpose to what was shattered. But, will it be enough to survive what’s coming next? Just like poor Larry Gopnick in A Serious Man, which begins with him teaching his physics students about Schrodinger’s cat; it ends with this same puzzle—does Larry and his son live or die after the tornado? We don’t know, and we won’t know until we look inside the box. Or perhaps more appropriately, until the box is rebuilt through the process of sense-making and meaning so the journey can continue—thus the process is ever unfolding, so probably it is never done, which is another theme in the movie: bad things happen…that is life!
In simply trying to understand what is happening to me now… I keep going back to Jung, specially to his book Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious, but also his book Dreams. Yesterday, a very old Facebook post popped into my notifications. It went back to early May before all the trauma occurred, and I had been more optimistic that all things eventually work themselves out to the best possible end result…now I am not so sure this is true at all.
In responding hopefully to this old thread, I said: “…I ran across this note I made some time back: ‘As we bump into each other, we effect and precipitate change in each other’s psychic fields of energy (or this could also be interpreted as consciousness).’ And, even though change in the masses may ultimately need to start as a change in each individual, by being together and communicating with each other, we are transforming ourselves and this can transform the collective…so, nothing is black and white…and what we are doing here and elsewhere is essential to bring about sustainable change in ourselves and others!”
What has transpired since I posted this comment is vivid proof that this sort of bumping into each other can indeed precipitate change, but the changes do not always end up being the type that elevates self and others. Such precipitation can also devastate and demonize self and other, casting the person so far into the bowels of the dreaded black pit (i.e., the unconscious)—the place where all that is unacceptable to modern, civilized man is cast—that those who have been banished there may never return… at least not whole.
Unable to sleep through most nights now, I have taken to rereading from the beginning Jung’s The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. I supposed this will be my third time reading it, and still I find I did not see or understand so many things from the first or second time I read it, and I forget so much! Thus, this is simply a note on what seemed particularly important to me…more so now than ever before. I supposed this has to do with the time that has passed since I last read this passage (my previous notes go back to the 90s), the trauma since endured, and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that now prevails in my soul. Jung is talking about the collective unconsciousness (of course); something Ralph Waldo Emersonalso spoke and wrote about but calling it the Oversoul. In the overview, Jung sets up the framework for what will come in the rest of the book. The part that jumped out to me last night begins on page 21 where he writes:
“The necessary and needful reaction from the collective unconscious expresses itself in archetypally formed ideas. The meeting with oneself is, at first, the meeting with one’s shadow. The shadow is a tight passage, a narrow door, whose painful constriction no one is spared who goes down to the deep well. But one must learn to know oneself in order to know who one is. For what comes after the door is, surprisingly enough, a boundless expanse full of unprecedented uncertainty, with apparently no inside and no outside, no above and no below, no here and no there, no mine and no thine, no good and no bad. It is the world of water, where all life floats in suspension; where the realm of the sympathetic system, the soul of everything living, begins; where I am indivisibly this and that; where I experience the other in myself and the other-than-myself experiences me.
No, the collective unconscious is anything but an incapsulated personal system; it is sheer objectivity, as wide as the world and open to all the world. There I am the object of every subject, in complete reversal of my ordinary consciousness, where I am always the subject that has an object. There I am utterly one with the world, so much a part of it that I forget all too easily who I really am. ‘Lost in oneself’ is a good way of describing this state. But this self is the world, if only a consciousness could see it. That is why we must know who we are.
The unconscious no sooner touches us than we are it–we become unconscious of ourselves. That is the age-old danger, instinctively known and feared by primitive man, who himself stands so very close to this pleroma. His consciousness is still uncertain, wobbling on its feet. It is still childish, having just emerged from the primal waters. A wave of the unconscious may easily roll over it, and then he forgets who he was and does thing that are strange to him. Hence primitives are afraid of uncontrolled emotions, because consciousness breaks down under them and gives way to possession. All man’s strivings have therefore been directed towards the consolidation of consciousness. This was the purpose of rite and dogma; they were dams and walls to keep back the dangers of the unconscious, the ‘perils of the soul.’ Primitive rites consist accordingly in the exorcizing of spirits, the lifting of spells, the averting of the evil omen, propitiation, purification, and the production by sympathetic magic of helpful occurrences.” — C.G. Jung
It is these barriers, erected in primitive times, that later became the foundations of the Church. It is also these barriers that collapse when the old symbols become too weak with age. When this happens, the waters of the collective unconsciousness begin to rise and boundless catastrophes begin to break out rushing over all mankind. The religious leader of the Taos pueblo, known as the Loco Tenente Gobrnador, once said to me: “The Americans should stop meddling with our religion, for when it dies and we can no longer help the sun our Father to cross the sky, the Americans and the whole world will learn something in ten years’ time, for then the sun won’t rise anymore.” In other words, night will fall, the light of consciousness is extinguished, and the dark sea of the unconscious breaks in.”
Jung says more, but I will stop paraphrasing his thinking at this point for this is where my own journey seems to be ending up at the unconscious sea that is breaking in. In my story about The Divine Dodo, I attempt to capture through this simple, childish tale, the dangers of this journey that I am attempting. I have begun to realize (thanks to the random post that came back out of nowhere and another sleepless night) that this little bird, the Dodo, believes himself capable of maintaining his individual consciousness inside the depths of the darkest parts of the unconscious—quite impertinent for a little bird, and perhaps that’s is why he went extinctic in our modern real world. The last post of the Dodo’s journey seems to capture what Jung describes (perhaps this was in my subconscious when I wrote it, but I certainly did not consciously remember it when I wrote the last part of the journey of the Dodo): “For what comes after the door is, surprisingly enough, a boundless expanse full of unprecedented uncertainty, with apparently no inside and no outside, no above and no below, no here and no there, no mine and no thine, no good and no bad.”
The Dodo entering through the door of the soul leading to the deep well (left) & The Dodo lost in the boundless expanse (above) — Original artwork by Bébé
The Dodo has gone through the door into the unconscious realm where everything is immensely queer and alien to him. He has no idea what is up or down or even right in front of him. In the last post, he survives three trials when in the end he encounters primitives, thanks to DJ, who begin to conduct an ancient rite. This is where I leave the reader suspended on the Dodo’s fate, which I guess is my own. I’m not sure what will happen to him… I thought the story was going one way, but now I find myself utterly suspended and lost even more than when I started the adventures of the Dodo. Also, today is election day in the U.S., which could possibly be a referendum on the past two years where it seems indeed that the walls holding back the waters of the unconsciousness have eroded and burst, washing over the entire country and leaving it in an extreme state of distress. Perhaps the cry to build a wall is not so much a cry to build a real physical wall on the real physical border, but an inner wall inside of us again. One that can hold back and channel the inner demons churning in the dark water of the unconsciousness—waters that exists in every man, woman, and child; waters that are fully capable of taking possession of a human being and making them capable of doing anything.
This is something we have forgotten as modern human beings, but not the ancients or those still connected to this forgotten, but very real part of every human being. Now it seems we draw ever closer to the time the religious leader of the Taos pueblo (Loco Tenente Gobrnador) warned Jung almost 100 years ago: “The Americans should stop meddling with our religion, for when it dies and we can no longer help the sun our Father to cross the sky, the Americans and the whole world will learn something in ten years’ time, for then the sun won’t rise anymore.” And, if this does come to past, can we survive? Is anyone even listening…and does it matter?
In my humble opinion, Loco Tenente Gobrnador is talking about consciousness—the inner light inside every human being created by the fusion of psyche and spirit that generates a soul. When this inner sun sets, as is normal for everything experiences cycles of death and renewal, but when it sets but does not rise again because we have forgotten how to see it, then I wager it will take far less than 10 years time for humanity to become hopelessly lost in the dark depths of the soul. As a species on this planet, we have been mostly blessed so far, but there have been times of great brutality in our collective history at the hands of man—perhaps these were times when waves of unconscious swept human beings off the conscious ground they had gain. Now, it seems we stand collectively at a time when such a wave feels imminent again, but one that is much bigger and more volatile than ever before. A wave that could put out this inner sun so that it never rises again. Now is a time to honor the wisdom keepers who still know how to see this inner sun and guide us to higher, safer ground, so that we may to continue to grow as conscious sentient beings.
One final thought on Jung and the collective unconscious is something I did not even know about him and his theory until this moment. This is from Wikipedia:
In later years Jung revised and broadened the concept of archetypes even further, conceiving of them as psycho-physical patterns existing in the universe, given specific expression by human consciousness and culture. Jung proposed that the archetype had a dual nature: it exists both in the psyche and in the world at large. He called this non-psychic aspect of the archetype the “psychoid” archetype.
Jung drew an analogy between the psyche and light on the electromagnetic spectrum. The center of the visible light spectrum (i.e., yellow) corresponds to consciousness, which grades into unconsciousnessness at the red and blue ends. Red corresponds to basic unconscious urges, and the invisible infra-red end of the spectrum corresponds to the influence of biological instinct, which merges with its chemical and physical conditions. The blue end of the spectrum represents spiritual ideas; and the archetypes, exerting their influence from beyond the visible, correspond to the invisible realm of ultra-violet. Jung suggested that not only do the archetypal structures govern the behavior of all living organisms, but that they were contiguous with structures controlling the behavior of inorganic matter as well.
Buffeted by unseen forces, Dodo tries desperately to fly away from the center of the vortex, but it’s useless. His wings are too small, and he is too weak. Aggravating the whole situtation are huge vacuousness ordnances exploding all around him. Dodo feels as if they are pushing him towards the center of the vortex, which is definitely not where he wants to go. Adding to his terror now that he knows he is not going to be pulled into a million pieces is:How is he going to navigate this vortex?He wishes he could hear DJ’s guiding voice, but he is gone; so too are the watery voices from hisForsaken Playlist… evaporated into nothing leaving Dodo without sound or images to navigate by.
Just then, a huge redblob explodes inches in front of him, making him veer violently to the right. Dodo employs as much wing strength as he can, which isn’t much but enough to avoid the blob and obliteration. Dodo’s heart races, and so do his thoughts, which go something like this:
“How can I… a sorry misshaped bird with useless wings… navigate this stormy vortex…”
A strange thought interrupts his victim thinking that simply states: “I’ve been here before… I don’t need to go here again.” So, with a slight turn of his wings, he banks to the left. As he does, the negative voice in his head fades, going something like this:
“I might as well die… nobodyknow…”
Just like that, the victim voice is gone!
“This must be progress,”Dodo thinks joyfully! However, now he’s heading back into the thick orange fog left behind by the red blob’s explosion. He can’t see anything for the fog is getting thicker, making it hard for Dodo to breath. Soon, Dodo is completely disorientated with no idea which way is right or left—even up or down. He wishes for a sound or speck of light to guide him.
“Heck,” he thinks, “I would love to slam into something hard just so I could follow it to someplace solid.”
His thoughts are abruptly brought to a standstill by a booming voice echoing from the vacuousness fog that says:
“We do not approve of your mission Dodo. It has no meaning to the system. Rejoin the systemor be terminated.”
Dodo is shocked by the power of the voice and how it seems to be a strange amalgamation of many voices of different ages, genders, races, and dialects blended into one singular thunderous sound. So many questions tumble through his mind such as…
Is this the voice of God?
Where is it coming from?
Who else is out here in the void with me?
Why can’t I see them?
How do I rejoin the system?
Equally puzzling to Dodo is why the voice sounds so cruel. Obviously, it has no idea what he’s just been through for if it had, it surely would offer kindness and compassion, not threaten his life!
Stammering Dodo asks meekly, “Who are you?“
“We are reality Dodo! You must face reality! Your mission is dirt… it has no bearing on reality. We are everything. We have always been and always will be all of reality. You can only submit to us…bird…submit and obey!”
Dodo doesn’t even have a second to respond to the demand because coming at him sounding like 1,000 screeching cats are reality barbs. These are weapons meant to injury, maim, or kill the beings they are flung at. Usually, they are invisible, but Dodo sees them coming because of the thick orange fog.
Ducking, he barely misses being hit by the first barb, which whizzes over his head ruffling his feathers. All he can do is tuck his tiny wings tight against his body and let himself drop. He plummets further and faster than he ever thought possible. As he falls, he considers: “Just how big is this vortex? Does it not have a beginning, middle, and end as all things in reality must have or does it go on forever? Perhaps this place is not real…“
The further Dodo falls, the darker it becomes and the colder Dodo grows. Soon, he can no longer feel his wings or feet; he doesn’t even feel like he’s falling anymore. After a long time, he realizes he is moving… just so slowly and in such large circles it doesn’t seem like he’s moving. Finally, far in the distance, he sees a purple-blue glow and knows this must be what he’s moving towards… or rather being pulled towards like waste flushed down a toilet.
He tries to fly, but there is nothing for his wings to push against because there is no air… there is only silence… until there is not! What he hears is a sound so strange, so alien he wonders if it is real. The sound is a low trembling vibration that starts high and descends into a deep, guttural groan, which repeats over and over so it is one continuous tone. In his bones, he knows it is the endless cry of an uncountable number of sentient beings about to be erased from the White Board of consciousness, but why? He remembers the sad stories DJ told him of sentients who had become victims of unspeakable and treacherous fates through the forsaken songs, but this cry is even more awful than those sad stories and songs—something much more dreadful is going on. Dodo flaps his wings and struggles, but it is useless!
“Anyhow, what’s the point?” Dodo thinks, “I’ve been flung here into this place of nothingness…perhaps it is a holding tank before oblivion where my existence has no meaning.Could this really be where all sentient beings end up?”
Deeply troubled, a new understanding begins to well up inside of him… he senses that not all sentient beings end up here at all, and an image jumps into his mind of hunters aiming their guns at a small pack of elephants. They shoot, making one of the young elephants run away from her mother. But, she doesn’t get far before she falls hard on one knee. The hunters show no mercy and shoot at her until she is dead. Dodo knows these men are hunting for pleasure. They will not eat her meat—oh, they may take a tusk or toothas a keepsake of their bravery and prowess as hunters. But they do not recognize her pain and suffering, nor will they ever honor her sacrifice in protecting her mother and baby sister by drawing their fire.
Dodo feels a deep despair at the futility of life, and it’s not just his own life. He senses how all sentient beings are slowly crawling out of the Sea of Unconsciousness but they have been pitted against despicable forces…evil spirits…fragments that have broken off from the divine and now torment and interfere with the progress of sentient beings. These sinister elements have slipped into creation through the backdoor, as it were, bringing with them disease, accidents, and death.
A kaleidoscope of horrifying images flash through Dodo’s mind—children dying in theirmothers’ arms succumbing to starvation and preventable diseases wrought by rich men who are bombing everything around them, making all the food disappear. Dodo knows these men have been devoured by their unconsciousness, making them capable of the most despicable acts… acts that shattered, scattered, and maligned life. It is the same unconsciousness at work in people who hear the cries of these children…the cries of all suffering beings, but do nothing to help. By taking no action in the face of evil, life is further denigrated and derailed, and the hope it may someday achieve something delicate and exquisite…something ethereal and divine…becomes more lost and less likely.
Dodo knows he is caught in a death spiral created by these powerful heinous forces and their earthly vassals—the unconscious ones who have descended into this fiendish realm in spirit before their earthly death. First, victims of the powerful weapon the evil ones forged long ago—the Blade of Unconsciousness—now they are minions wearing many masks in life—deception, denial, apathy, fear-mongering. No matter their disguise, the results are the same: Chaos that assaults and rocks the cradle of life—a matrix created of peace, balance, and harmony meant to help sentient beings make the difficult journey to consciousness. And, this vortex is a concentration of all this evil spreading through the world like hungry worms.
As the purple-blue light looms larger, Dodo sees there is something moving inside of it. His skin begins to crawl, and then every fiber in his body screams: “Fly Dodo, Fly!”
But he can’t fly! He can only swirl along with all the other beautiful sentient beings trapped in this vortex of evil. And now far more terrifying to Dodo is the knowledge that consciousness does not end at the moment of death because it is energy, and energy is never destroyed. He realizes the consciousness of the beings swirling with him have been hunted… much like the hunters who shot the elephant. These evil spirits haunt and stalk living beings at the time of their death when they may be afflicted by terror or cling to their earthly body, causing them to become even more disorientated. Caught in tremendous turbulence and shrouded by fear and confusion as they shift between energy states, the sentients become easy targets for the evil hunters who lure them to places like this with promises of deliverance or a brand-new life. The endless sound permeating this place is their final plea for salvation, a cry for mercy, but there is none, and so it simply becomes a lullaby of obliteration.
Now all Dodo can do is swirl with these dying golden remnants of consciousness. Resigned to his fate, he swirls faster and faster towards the thing at the center. As he does, the last strands of hope slip from his hold. But, just as the final thread is falling from his grasp,DJ reappears! Dodo’s heart leaps for joy, but also seizes up with fear for DJ is too close to the beast, and he knows even an apparition can be pulled into this monstrous force… and if DJ goes, there’s no salvation for him because DJ is his only hope!
Dodo holds his breath waiting for DJ to make a move… and move he does!
DJ begins to dance, and as he dances, magnificent colors radiate from him making sounds like nothing Dodo has ever heard! It is an ancient chant sung by 100 men who understand how dangerous the world has become since evil entered it. They know how evil manifests through wild beasts and unpredictable natural events. They also know the most dangerous form it takes and that is inside other human beings…for these are people who have become bent by thegravity of unconsciousness. This is how the blade works, it bends a human back to the unconsciousness from where they emerged, causing them to abandon their ascent to consciousness. And, if this human lacks resilience…like the water that sprung from Dodo through his tears and then spread through him holding him together as he began to break apart…then these humans snap, becoming severed from their soul. Such a human is capable of killing men, women, and children simply for power, control, a queer idea, or entertainment. It is a sickness that runs deep through the marrow of life. And the diabolical consequences of these human beings have been recounted again and again by story tellers such as Shakespeare in King Richard III—a most despicable tale about a man plagued by his own physical deformity who then becomes devoured by a more decrepit spiritual deformity that leads him to destroy and kill almost every kin and friend he has, except his mother. She alone seems to survive his cruelty and curses him during their final encounter just before he rides to his doom. But, even death does not scrub this plague from the living left behind for it is an affliction of the soul—thus, it is eternal and will always be reborn.
The men DJ calls forth know how this story goes. They know where and how the evil flows. They know it exists in all beings, thus they repeat their chant—Hammer Hippyer—to gather their collective wisdom and strength needed to vanquish it!
Their voices are raw, but they are beautiful, unified, and hypnotic. The drummers beats begin to weave a web across the void using the rainbow light. Drum beats mix with human voices, and Dodo begins to think they sound like birds and bugs and frogs. Soon Dodo is completely mesmerized and feels transported to a warm, green, wonderful place where he is safe.
Abruptly, the men change the chant and the drum beats grow harder and sound more menacing as the men begin to chant:hanga dýra mingja. As they chant this new refrain, they also groan and cry out in sounds of agony or shouts of anger. The mood goes from croaking crickets and frogs to fighting wolves and raging beasts, which frightens Dodo.
Dodo wishes he understood the words they are chanting for if he understood, he might not be afraid. As if DJ hears his wish, the words are translated directly into Dodo’s head. The men are chanting:hang the animals.
Dodo’s heart almost stops as he imagines himself nailed to the net of light being woven by the drummers and chanters for he’s an animal, is he not!
Terrible thoughts consume him:
Are they going to hang me to this net?
Has DJ forsaken me?
What terrible trick is this?
Dodo is convinced DJ is nothing but a terrible trickster. How could he be anything but a cheat, fraud, and villain in this realm of evil and obliteration. It is all simply a game to DJ, a cruel form of entertainment for the beast as it eats…like a pinch of salt adding flavor to the feast.
DJ is not his savior! DJ is a demon! DJ is the executioner his doom!
Since publishing this episode of the Divine Dodo’s journey, I came upon this image two days later in C.G. Jung’s book Dreams. [i.e., page 151, Figure 28. Capture of the Leviathan with the sevenfold tackle of the line of David with the crucifix as bait—Herrad of Landsberg’s Hortus deliciarum (12th Century)]. The parallels to Dodo’s journey are interesting for the images I have been creating for The Divine Dodo story occur spontaneously (often as a quick vision or flash of imagination) and the story is rising in a similar manner. This part of the journey was written and drawn before I came upon this image. Jung is using it to interpret a dream of a patient he was working with at the time. Part of Jung’s life work is the idea that we all rest upon a great sea of the collective unconscious that is contained in each human being and within this sea are eternal archetypes. Just as the physical body has a heart, lungs, spleen… our minds have psychic organs (e.g., the king, the queen, the trickster), and these are the archetypes; they have formed the bedrock of myths and legends for millennia. The stories of gods and goddesses and their dramas have informed and defined human civilizations, but recently many humans have lost this vision or ability to see into the unconscious. Archetypes are infinitely diverse. No one civilization or culture or time has any more claim to them than any other. It is simply part of what it means to be human—a multidimensional being that is equipped with body, mind, and spirit. However, some civilizations, cultures, and times have understood this better than others and have learned to navigate this realm that exists in everyone better. Coming back to this picture and the Dodo’s journey, it is significant because of how this part of the Dodo’s tale ends… perhaps Dodo is about to encounter the Leviathan! This was certainly not in the realm of my awareness when I wrote or drew it. And, seven is a significant number to Dodo in upcoming parts of his tale. I shared this in humble humility as an observer of my own life and nothing more. It seemed important to share a little bit of how this story is being written and drawn and created, and then the small synchronistic discoveries I have made in conjunction with this fictional journey, especially how they may relate to myth and the collective unconscious.