#female cosmology

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Magical World Of The Mayans: Leonora Carrington

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Leonora Carrington. “The Magical World of the Mayans” (1963/64) WORLD ARTS / ART LEARNING06 oct. 2021

Isabel García Trócoli

LLEGEIX-LO EN CATALÀ

Very often, when we read about the lives of creative women, we find that they are described as the muses of some male artist. But the reality was that this was the only way for them to get started in the art world for them: as someone’s muse, a fact that is repeated over and over again when we talk about the artists of Surrealism, a movement characterized by freedom of action and thought.

The same Surrealists who preached this freedom regarded their female companions as appendages of themselves: muses, helpers and lovers. Being recognised in this world was hard for female artists who, seen in perspective, were every bit as good as them. Leonora Carrington (1917-2011) claimed that she did not have time to be anyone’s muse, as busy as she was with freeing herself from her father and with her artistic learning. She paid dearly for her independence, but the difficulties of the journey brought to light an exciting inner world that she knew how to translate into an abundant and mysterious oeuvre.

Leonora Carrington was born in England and was educated in the exclusive world of high society. Her father, a businessman, presented her to the royal court after her debutante ball at the Ritz. He wanted to distance her from the Irish fantasies and myths that had populated her childhood through her mother and grandmother’s tales, in the old family neo-Gothic mansion. It was too late: Leonora’s spirit was flying high, and her supernatural visions was were compounded by her disinterest in the superficial world of the ladies’ academies. Her rebellious nature led her to run away from home after meeting Max Ernst, 46, married, one of the most prominent Surrealist artists. Immune to scandal, Leonora went to live with him in France, where she joined the group of Surrealist artists formed by Paul Éluard, Joan Miró, André Breton, Salvador Dalí and Pablo Picasso, who called her ‘the bride of the wind.

The war separated the group and also the couple: Max Ernst, a German, was arrested in France and Leonora had to escape to Spain due to the Nazi invasion. In Spain she suffered major mental imbalances that led her to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital in Santander. In the hands of fascist doctors, she was subjected to treatments that today we would consider inhumane, a fact that would later be decisive for her work and for her life. On the way to another hospital, this in time South Africa, that her father had found to hospitalise her in, she escaped, and in Lisbon she contacted a Mexican poet friend, Renato Leduc, who married her in order to get her out of wartime Europe. Lázaro Cárdenas’ Mexico then became her adopted country, where she would live for seventy years. The work that we will analyse next was a commission from the National Museum of Anthropology of Mexico, where it is still exhibited.

The magical world of the Maya is the product of her six-month stay in Chiapas, at the home of an anthropologist friend. The Mayans in the area, fearful of Leonora’s camera, made her decide to document what she saw only with drawings and sketches. She became interested in flora and fauna, as well as in traditional medicine, medicinal herbs, and reading the Popol Vuh, the great Mayan holy book. The result is a four-meter-long painting that captures a worldview of contemporary Mayan reality, with a tripartite structure of Heaven, Earth and Underworld, where indigenous ancestral traditions are mixed with the Catholic religion. Leonora Carrington captures a symbolic landscape that constitutes a mixture of visible reality and hidden reality, an inseparable dichotomy in the Mayan conception of the world.

The central representation is a colonial-style temple, similar to the church of Santo Domingo de San Cristóbal de las Casas, with the convent on the left. Peasants work in the area and some people carry a Virgin in procession. Nearby is a calvary of twenty-two crosses that look like swords, with others rising towards a large cross/totem created from corn plants. This is the pantheon of Romerillo, in San Juan Chamula, where the crosses mark the funeral space of each family. The cross, for today’s Mayans, is an axis of the world that connects Heaven, Earth and Underworld. In the church, the two stone eagles, reminiscent of the coat of arms of the king of the conquerors, Emperor Charles I, are contrasted by a large quetzal that flies over the building, the sacred Mayan bird syncretised with the dove of the Holy Spirit. Leonora draws a parallel with the Celtic culture of Ireland, where ancient pagan ideas are mixed with the new sacred figures brought by Christianity.

In Heaven, from left to right, we have the Moon, the goddess Ixchel, and, below, three small female figures with bird legs climbing up the rainbow. They are related to Ixchel, the most important female deity in the Mayan pantheon, who presides over childbirth, pregnancy, fertility of the land and women, and healing. The Sun is in charge of giving strength to men, but the painter represents it as obscured by a black cloud. There is also the planet Venus, a large bright star also symbolised by the great green snake, crossed by the rainbow and the quetzal. Kukulcán (or Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent) is the combination of these two animals, which personify Heaven and Earth. This is a creative god, as explained in the Popol Vuh, who also presides over the processes of renewal and transformation, the eternal return of the cosmos. At the far right is a bright being, Totilmeil, a hummingbird, the bird the ancestors chose to manifest themselves. The mountains complete the picture, with a multitude of animals flying over them, perhaps the nahuales. The Mayans believed that each person has a supernatural protector, the nahuatl, who is embodied in an animal, and usually lives near the mountain trails that connect the different villages.

A white ceiba, Yaxché (“first, the tree”), is the Mayan cosmic tree, the vertical axial element that holds this tripartite cosmos together. A flock of owls, funerary animals and a bad omen, flies towards the ceiba. Perhaps related to this, on the other side of the tree, inside a hut, a man lying in bed is mourned by a woman with long black braids, while a shaman performs his healing rituals with candles, and another woman, at the bottom of the hut, grinds the corn into a metate, the manual stone mill. Around the hut are three large bats, animals associated with medicine among the native Mesoamerican peoples. They symbolise the ritual death of shamanic healing, which helps people leave their diseases behind and be reborn in health. The bat is alive, upside down, in the same way we are born through the womb.

Pines, closely associated with candles among the Maya (due to torches), appear surrounding the huts of the painting. Candles and torches are considered the food of the gods. At the foot of the pines, a face—perhaps Jesus Christ—seems to have been projected from the nearby chapel. In front of the chapel, there is a huge white horse, an animal that is often featured in works by Leonora Carrington and that is supposed to be her alter ego (in England she had been an experienced horsewoman). The horse is also the manifestation of the Celtic goddess Epona, protector of nature and life as well as of healing and death. Underground, the head of a jaguar with a spiral-shaped eye recalls one of the gods of Xibalbà, the Mayan Hell, populated by demonic beings specialised in the torment of human souls.

In Mexico, Leonora Carrington was able to develop her oeuvre exercising her freedom by creating paintings, sculptures, furniture, literature and scenery, along with her second husband, Emérico Csiki Weisz, an emigrated Hungarian photographer, assistant to Robert Capa, and the mastermind of the rescue of the famous Mexican suitcase with thousands of negatives from the Spanish Civil War. In the kitchen of her house on Chihuahua Street in the Roma neighbourhood of Mexico City, now a museum, Leonora shared memorable evenings with Catalan painter Remedios Varo and Hungarian photographer Kati Horna, all three united by the anti-fascist struggle of their youth and by Surrealism. No muses among them. In one of the few interviews she gave, when asked who Leonora Carrington was, she said: “someone who has survived so far with a lot of “cabrón” (effing) work, as they say in Mexico. That’s why I don’t like being called a muse either”.

#about art #Leonora Carrington #women #female artists #Isabel García Trócoli #cosmology #The Magical World of the Mayans

[wayti-blog]

“Astronomers agree that planets are born in protoplanetary disks—rings of dust and gas that surround young, newborn stars. While hundreds of these disks have been spotted throughout the universe, observations of actual planetary birth and formation have proved difficult within these environments.

Now, astronomers at the Center for Astrophysics | Harvard & Smithsonian have developed a new way to detect these elusive newborn planets—and with it, "smoking gun" evidence of a small Neptune or Saturn-like planet lurking in a disk. The results are described today in The Astrophysical Journal Letters.”

article

#planets #planet #cosmology #universe #space #astronomy #ALMA #technology #science #discovery #birth #creation #planet detection #female principle #source #manifestation

[iamabuddha]

The Sanskrit word for formlessness is shunyata, which translates as "voidness." A visual image of shunyata is vast space, which contains everything in the world of form including ourselves. All things preexist as energy and pure potential in the formless realm before coming into being. Every moment is imbued with myriad possibilities. A fellow practitioner once explained that shunyata can also be translated as "pregnant void." All realms exist interdependently in the limitless space of shunyata.

- PhD Rachael Wooten, Tara - The Liberating Power of the Female Buddha

#buddhism #rachael wooten #tara the liberating power of the female buddha #shunyata #spirituality #quotes #books #cosmology #emptiness #voidness

[astroboots]

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

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"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption. 

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying. 

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation. 

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over. 

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains. 

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all. 

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe. 

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is. 

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table,  not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise. 

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence. 

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye. 

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth. 

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them. 

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks. 

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air. 

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly. 

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw. 

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you. 

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both. 

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card. 

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this? 

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time. 

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask. 

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive. 

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest. 

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on. 

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again. 

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open. 

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room. 

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that. 

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.” 

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest. 

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can. 

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again. 

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time. 

You want him to stay. 

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question. 

Please stay. 

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.” 

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself. 

It’s quiet. 

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before. 

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service. 

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down. 

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left. 

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you. 

The Universe. 

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds? 

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you. 

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors. 

You really wished he had stayed with you. 

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you. 

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found. 

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream. 

"Miguel!” 

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you. 

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for. 

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more. 

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?" 

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other. 

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit. 

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.  

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as  he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork. 

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment. 

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud. 

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you. 

Except it doesn’t. 

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing. 

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying? 

Fuck! 

You can’t sleep. 

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is. 

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside.  It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost.  You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

[cryptotheism]

Choose Your Fighter, Ancient Greek Mystery Cult Edition:

The Eleusinians:

Harvest Rites: Eleusinian units gain a small damage buff from consuming wheat and wheat based products.

Pan-Helenic: The Eleusinians may recruit from any city state.

Telesterion: Eleusinian mystery rites may be performed en-masse. All surviving members will be instantly upgraded to initiates.

Kykeon: Initiates may consume kykeon to temporarily induce Mystical Frenzy.

The Pythagoreans:

Mendicant: Pythagoreans do not require permeant structures to recruit new units.

Metempsychosis: Pythagoreans initiate units may reincarnate as dogs.

Pythagorean Arete: Pythagoreans cannot perform blood sacrifices, but only require vegetables to survive. Pythagoreans have -50% resistance to bean damage.

Tetractys: Your influence on Plato allows you to start the game with +150% clout.

The Orphics:

Zagrean-Baccic Rites: Female units deal +200% extra damage with Frenzied Dismemberment.

Theogony: Orphics can modify their cosmology depending on the locale.

Orphic Katabasis: Upon death, Orphic initiates may invoke the furies.

Rites of Phanes: Transgender orphic units gain +200% clout when they are playing music.

[survivalove]

Air Temple Island, the Water Tribes & the Real Life Influences that bring them together

I was gonna screenshot a post I saw and add it to my post but I don’t feel like giving that individual attention (and the 300+ notes they got), so I just decided to make my own standalone post debunking this narrative that air temple island is this fully air nomad brothel (yes they said this) with ZERO water tribe motifs which katara is forced to live in until aang passed away.

frankly it just reminded me of how little people in this fandom actually bother to analyze the actual content, instead preferring to write entirely made up scenarios of katara being reduced to an air nomad incubator along with dozens other female acolytes (yes they also said this lmao. also them acting like both male AND female acolytes weren’t living on the whole other side of the island 😭)

when in truth, i’ve come to find a lot of elements of both water tribes as well as traditional inuit elements across air temple island:

1. the paifang

a traditionally chinese element that for some reason is exclusively found in the northern water tribe (why do they have a gate inside a throne room, you ask? ask the white people that made this show). the one on the left is actually one of two aang BUILT, at the main entrance and another at the temple entrance. this is just one example of water tribe design on the island.

2. the bagua mosaic

another structure is the bagua mosaic on the training grounds. bagua is a set of traditional chinese symbols of the cosmology, taoism. the bagua composes of 8 sets of broken or unbroken lines that represent yin and yang. where have we seen yin and yang in the original series? oh yeah, as tui and la of the water tribe! (because atla is a mess of asiatic and indigenous motifs joined together and spread out across each nation, mainly traditionally chinese elements at that.) aang building this right next to the air nomad training grounds is a symbol of the dual bending heritage their children will have.

3. gold and blue accents

now, gold and blue are the main colors of the exterior structures but is also very strong inside the air temple itself. note, the massive air nomad symbol designed fully in blue in the center and the blue banners and rugs throughout the temple. this is no doubt, for me, a visual depiction of both katara and aang’s representative cultures, but of course this is not limited to color only.

4. cloud carvings

now, this is a slight detour since clouds aren’t a significant part of either of their individual cultures (that we know) but i love the kataang monopoly they have on clouds as a couple so i’m talking about it. if you look at these images very closely what do you see? CLOUD CARVINGS!! specifically near the ceiling of the pavilion (left) and the arches and walls of the temple (right) just imagining aang painting and etching these very consistent swirls, like he’ll never be the selfish inconsiderate unromantic loser you people want him to be, but let’s get more into the southern water tribe style interior.

5. interior design

so here is a southern water tribe white lotus outpost vs the air temple island main dining room. first thing, the seat cushions and rug! while we don’t see air nomad eating quarters we do get to see enough SWT customs both in atla and lok, to know this is how they traditionally eat compared to the north (limiting myself on pics cuz mobile).

another thing is the dining table itself. both have what i believe to be built in fire pits (i couldn’t actually tell for the air temple island one cuz of the quality but if you zoom in you can see the lines go in the table plus the hanging kettle on it makes it obvious to me idk). the southern water tribe one however is clear and likely a more traditional version of what aang and katara have.

thirdly, the exposed timber on the ceiling. i actually looked it up and found this is a common element of these two inuit structures: left is an aasiaat peat house and right is an igloolik turf house. all this for me to believe not only did aang build air temple island to be a haven for the TWO of them but also that katara herself had a lot of input on the interior than people care to notice lol.

maybe instead of projecting these loser fantasies of katara being some unwilling air nomad baby making machine so you can feel better about your fantasies of katara living in a red palace with people that tried to wipe her out for a whole century, you all can go study the actual canon you were shown and the real life cultures the franchise takes from.

6. lastly, some of my own headcanons/stuff i want to see in the movie

the bathroom because I LIVE for a white marble tiled bathroom. i just know katara has to have a HUGE tub and they have one of those insane glass showers that can fit like 3 people, with cloud swirls everywhere because aang clearly got it like that

the KITCHEN, i imagine it being timber like the dining room and is probably on the other side behind the built-in shelf (get into the details like hello). in a perfect world, it would be open plan but hey

the bedroom, now we saw it in lok a bit but i wanna see it in the gaang movie too. i’m on pic limit but there’s a lot of artwork and flowers throughout the whole house which i give katara credit for because I can. like the desk, the bookshelf, that fancy looking vase thing? these two clearly have taste like don’t talk to me rn

I also didn’t show the rooms and aang’s study but there’s a lot of blue decor in those places which makes me think katara decorated the whole house, even the acolytes’ hall has blue sitting cushions and columns which i think is such a nice detail.

if you guys have any air temple island headcanons of your own please reply with some i’m feening lol

big shoutout to this user:

atla-annotated (their page is so great and filled with a lot of incredible information if you guys like this sort of stuff)

#atla #kataang #anti anti kataang #anti anti aang #aang the builder #i’ll keep saying it #anti anti katara #anti zutara #enough of with these loser fantasies #i’m sorry kataang will never have that cold sad narrative y’all desperately want them to #they need their own architectural digest house tour at this point #katara interior decorator fic when?? #i need the hgtv kataang fic too btw #my fic ideas #my headcanons #air temple island #lok #cloudfamily #water tribe #air temple

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Building a Better Ashe

About a year ago I took a pass at redesigning Ashe the Frost Archer from League of Legends with the help of Ainsworth "Apple_Cork" Lin (https://www.instagram.com/apple_cork/ || https://linktr.ee/apple_cork) who I commissioned for the artwork.

We took Ashe through a number of ideations and various approaches to her character design, which you'll find below the Read More cutoff.

If you want to watch the video version of our design process (it's pretty good!) you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fi5fuv1nLs

Goals:

The goal was to create a version of Ashe that puts less priority of simply making her "appealing" or look pretty, and more on doing storytelling for the kind of role she plays in the story of the Freljord.

Ashe as she exists now is basically a riff on the Drow Ranger from Dota, complete with WarCraft 3 style Hot Elven Ranger getup. She's a queen of the frozen north, but she runs around in a miniskirt, thigh-highs and a paper-thin cloak because

this design was originally put together to be running around sunny Elven forests on Azeroth, and got interpolated through Dota into League of Legends without ever really reconsidering the concept

it was designed for League of Legends at a time when worldbuilding and character storytelling simply were not priorities in their character design - characters were broad recognizable fantasy archetypes being thrown together Smash Bros style for a fighting tournament

Late 2000s high fantasy character design in gaming had a default preference for Sexy Cleavage Babes for female character design that permeated the entire design space, especially at Blizzard, whose influence formed the basis for League of Legends

Over a decade later, Ashe has been fleshed out as much more of a real character, with a place and role in the world and cosmology of the Freljord far beyond her original archetype. Now she is specifically constructed as a counterpart to Lissandra's imperious, manipulative, sovereign mysticism and to Sejuani's martial brutality. The Avarosa are the only faction in the Freljord (and one of the very few in Runeterra) who argue explicitly for a softer life with less violence and struggle as the ideal. Ashe wants to reform and abolish the blood-soaked warrior culture of the Freljord and replace it with communal mutual aid and sharing, with tribes pooling their collective resources rather than relying on constant raiding and warfare. She's also a notable champion of the Hearthbound, the "normal" people of the Freljord who are not blessed with Iceborn blood or noble lineages.

The Avarosa have successfully recruited a huge swath of tribes to their cause, and through collaboration and a focus on agriculture and mutual protection have become the breadbasket of the Freljord, able to extend their political reach simply by offering new tribes access to reliable sources of food.

The power and rhetoric of the Avarosa thus rests on

A rejection of martial warrior culture in favor of a culture of nurturing and mutual care

Embrace of vulnerability and "weakness"

The promise of plenty, of full food stores and protection from failed harvests and the bitter winter cold

So, the design goals are:

Contrast Ashe visually with both Lissandra and especially with Sejuani, who is her most direct opposite.

Tell the story not only of Ashe herself, but of the faction she represents, and represent its values in her design.

Make her unique and recognizable against the lineup of other League of Legends characters in a way that currently she simply isn't.

Early ideation:

Here we start by identifying silhouettes and the basic ideas of costuming that we want to run with. Since League of Legends women also generally have a bad case of Chronic Sameface Syndrome, we also explore a bunch of different face shapes and ideas for distinguishing Ashe physically outside of costuming and body shape.

Refinement:

We pick out a smaller number of variations to play with, and Apple_Cork explores various options for the costuming.

At this point we've settled on two main ideas: a "Warrior" Ashe, who is characterized by the hard life she's had to lead. Her struggles and suffering, especially the loss of her mother and the betrayal of Sejuani, are the emotional impetus that leads to her reaching the ideals of the Avarosans as an antidote to and rebellion against the Freljord's bloody history. We decide to use the A2 and A3 variation as a base for this, with addition of details like scarring and a somewhat bulkier musculature. This runs the risk of making her physically quite similar to Sejuani, which is a trade-off that might be worth it since the two of them are repeatedly positioned as sisters (even if not by blood) in their stories, and are very alike in their experiences and traumas, even if they've reached opposite conclusions from it.

The other idea is "Warmother Ashe." The Freljord is organized around matrilineal tribal leadership, with a significant emphasis on the social role of motherhood, with the leader of the tribe conceptualized as its primary mother figure. Most Warmothers we've known are hard-bitten, violent and domineering matriarchs, emphasizing the war bit of the name, and since Ashe represents a decisive break with that tradition, we want to create a design that puts emphasis on the mother part of the idea.

So an Ashe who is visually soft, associated with typical traits of nurturing motherhood and who visibly rejects struggle, deprivation and violence as part of her identity. The C1 and C2 variations form the basis for this character.

Both designs are intended to provide a strong visual contrast to the stark black-and-blue statuesque angularity of Lissandra, as well as the armored, hard-shelled, segmented look of Sejuani

A note on body politics and character design

It is generally Problematic™ to equate any one body type with any one set of personality traits, whether positively or negatively. A lot of common character design associations and shorthand is based on body stereotypes, and on a systemic scale, they can reinforce existing social bigotries.

The most common example: character design often employ the idea that good people tend to be beautiful and evil people tend to be ugly, and that a person's inner moral character can be read in their physical traits.

This is a trope with an extremely bad history, especially when it intersects with the politics of beauty, with eugenics and with racial caricature. Whiteness and the constructed features of whiteness are often used as the basis of beauty ideals, while traits and features associated with non-whiteness are considered ugly or undesirable, and thus in visual storytelling these traits can become markers of moral degeneracy or evil. Disney villains do this all the time, to various degrees of Problematicness.

I bring this up here because we decided to use a fat body-type on one of our Ashe designs specifically to code the design to be associated with softness, kindness, motherly nurturing and so on. These are positive traits, and it is meant to establish her as a contrast with Sejuani who is hard-edged, muscled and brutal. But also, yeah, fat bodies being associated with those traits is a reductive stereotype, just the same as associating highly trained, skinny and fit bodies with emotional coldness, lack of kindness and violence is reductive.

Character design is a tightrope walk between using available associations and stereotypes to create coding and shorthand so the audience can easily read the design on the one hand, and trying to redefine and re-associate traits in creative ways to create better storytelling on the other hand. League of Legends is a game that relies very, very heavily on existing and known archetypes, and we redesigned Ashe on those terms as well. It is fair to criticize our redesign for those trade-offs, within reason, and within the context of the problems of the design it is intended to improve upon. League of Legends as a franchise is generally unwilling to allow fat bodies to exist in ANY positive context, and especially not in women, whose visual priority 9 times out of 10 is to be conventionally beautiful and skinny above all else.

Final designs:

Warrior Ashe This design hews closer to her original design, employing the skirt, waist-wrap and thigh-high boots, albeit updated to look more appropriate for the fashion culture and environment of the Freljord.

The emphasis here is on Ashe as a war-leader and fighter, and we've added facial scars and her design generally features more hard and sharp lines and metallic accents to give her a more hard-bitten and warlike look. This is an Ashe who has led a heard and difficult life, marked by fighting and struggle.

Warmother Ashe This design pulls away hard from the original design, with only really the hood and cloak and white hair as identifying feature of the old version. She wears a lot of fabrics and furs, and is generally designed around stoutness and visual softness, and does not share the hardness or angular facial features of Warrior Ashe. Her clothes are finely embroidered with her tribe's iconography and she has pendants and trinkets associated with the various tribes that have been integrated into the Avarosa, or perhaps gifted to her by allies or friends.

She still has leather chest armor, albeit covered up by her cloak, and a shoulder pauldron, but it's ringed by fine feathers making it more of a showpiece. Same with the archery bracer, which is ostentatious and the bright brass makes it contrast with the rest of the design, which is meant to give the vibe of "this is a thing she puts on when necessary" but not a natural, integrated part of her fashion. Compare and contrast with the bracers on Warrior Ashe above.

---

Please follow Apple_Cork on Instagram: http://instagram.com/apple_cork

#tb essay #league of legends #riot games #freljord #ashe league of legends #warmother #sejuani #lissandra #ashe lol #character design #tbskyen

[talonabraxas]

O Babalon! Babalon! Thou mighty mother That ridest upon the crowned Beast and no other! Drunk on the wine of Your fornication, I raise up the cup and adore Babalon! Ave Babalon! Babalon Rides the Beast ♦️🩸♦️ Talon Abraxas

156 BABALON is one of central figures in Aleister Crowley’s Thelema cosmology. In her most abstract form, Babalon represents the female sexual impulse and the liberated woman. In the creed of the Gnostic Mass she is also identified with Mother Earth, in her most fertile sense. The star of Babalon has several symbolic components.

First of all it is all about number 7.

Seven in Hebrew Kabbalah represents Sephiroth called Netzach, it is an area of human psyche where all emotional realm is located. It is domain of Female Goddesses which are representing concept of Love.

Venus, Aphrodite, Ishtar and so on.

Love which represents Babalon is All Accepting.

93/93

[kemetic-dreams]

                THE IFA CONCEPT OF SOCIOLOGY

Yoruba culture has used the Ifa paradigm of the cosmos as the basis for building their major cities. The structure of the Yoruba Nation was a federation of city states. Each city was ruled by an Oba. In ancient times the Oba was never seen by his subjects, so he became the invisible nucleus of the circle that formed the city. He was surrounded by a female council of elders called Odu and a predominantly male council of elders called Ogboni. The city itself was supported by male and female work parties who tended to divide their labor along gender lines. The men were traditionally farmers and the women traditionally controlled the market place. Both men and women participated in craft guilds that preserved the techniques used in the arts. The cities were built in a circular formation with the compound of the Oba at the center. The symbolic image of Yoruba culture appears as follows:

There is some archeological evidence in the Yoruba cities of Ile Ife and Oyo that suggests that this design was used as the basis for the actual layout of those cities. The extent to which this occurred in other cities has not been thoroughly researched. It does appear that this structure was used in pre-colonial times as the basis for establishing political and religious institutions both of which were built upon the cosmological model found in Ifa.

Variations on this structure involved the system of establishing the location for sacred shrines. The system is called Gede which is a very old form of astrology. In Gede the path of solar bodies and planets is marked in relationship to the ways that they transverse the landscape. Celestial bodies are believed to enhance the ase (inherent power) of natural forces that arise from the Earth. By correlating the influences of Olorun and Ile, the ancient diviners were able to consecrate their shrines in places that reflected the essence of specific Odu.

Earth (ile) was considered a reflection of Heaven (Orun) and the layout of Yoruba cities was designed to make them mirrors of the cosmic order. The religion of Ifa originally comes from the city of Ile Ife. In lfa scripture, Ile Ifa is described as the original home of humans. The words: "Ile Ife” translate to mean; "Spreading Earth." So Ile Ife is a city and it is any place where land formed on Earth that allowed for human evolution to take place. Ifa scripture also refers to Ile Ife as a Spiritual place. It is the home for those ancestors who have returned to Source.

D. THE IFA CONCEPT OF PSYCHOLOGY

Perhaps the most accessible manifestation of Odu is through the portal of individual consciousness. Ifa teaches that Odu represent the energy patterns that create consciousness. They are analogous to what Carl Jung called archetypes of the collective unconscious. Jung believed that there exists a set of primal patterns that form the content of self-perception and place the self in relationship to the world. According to Jung, these patterns remain abstract until the unconscious gives them a cultural and personal context. In both Jungian psychology and the Ifa concept of consciousness, Odu (archetypes) can be revealed through dreams, where they take on personal qualities and manifest as mythic drama. By grasping this particular manifestation of Odu, Ifa teaches that it is possible to create internal balance which is the foundation of living in harmony with Nature.

Ifa psychology is linked to the concept of ori. The literal translation of ori is "head." This is a limited definition because ori also implies consciousness and Ifa cosmology teaches that all Forces in Nature have ori or consciousness.31 Because Ifa believes in reincarnation, every ori forms a polarity with ipori. The ipori is the eternal consciousness that exists in Orun (Heaven).32 It is the ipori that forms the link between past and future lives. If a scripture describes the ipori as the perfect double of ori. According to Ifa cosmology, every ori makes an agreement with Olorun prior to each incarnation.33 This agreement outlines the type of life that is to be lived and the lessons that are to be learned in a given lifetime. At the moment of birth the content of this agreement is lost to conscious thought. Part of the process of establishing internal balance is viewed as the task of remembering the original agreement between ori and Olorun.

This agreement is the source of individual destiny. Because divination is considered a method for discovering destiny, all divination based on Ifa is related to the question of enhancing the alignment between ori and ipori.

The link between ori and ipori lies within ori inu.35 The Yoruba words; "ori inu" translate to mean; "inner head." This is a reference to what Jung called the individual consciousness or self. Ori inu is the nucleus of that circle of Forces that creates self-awareness.

In addition to the polarity between ori and ipori, ori inu is the center point of the polarity between ara and emi. Ara is the physical body. Ifa psychology includes the heart (okan) and the emotions (egbe) as part of the physical self. According to lfa, the nature of one's ipori can only be grasped if the head and the heart are in alignment. In other words, the mind and the emotions must be in agreement if spiritual insight is to occur. Similarly, Jung understood that a conflict between the mind and the emotions is one of the sources of mental illness.36 In Ifa this conflict is called ori ibi. It is difficult to make a literal translation of ori ibi, but the term suggests a lack of alignment between ori and ipori. When the ori and ipori are functioning as one, it creates a condition called ori ire. A literal translation of ori ire would be; "wise head." .Jung referred to this condition as individuation, which was his basis for defining mental health.37

Ara or the physical body exists in polarity with emi. The Yoruba word emi means; "breath.” Ifa teaches that the breath of life comes from Olodumare and contains the eternal essence of consciousness. Emi in this context would translate to mean; "soul." The Ifa symbol of self would appear as follows:

#ifa #vodun #kemetic dreams #traditional african religion #african spirituality #african culture #west africa #odunlade adekola #ori #orunmila #oya

[kunosoura]

anri being the opposite gender of the ashen one because the londor church is weirdly catholic and your symbolic evil marriage to them has to be Straight vs. the tarnished ‘marrying’ marika no matter if they’re male or female because they are the Elden Lord and she is their Bride God Consort and that gender dynamic is apparently hardcoded into the cosmology vs ranni marrying the tarnished regardless of their gender because they are her number one simp and she is bisexual

#vs hyetta who is an evil ghost possessing the body of the platonic Sacrificial Maiden to manipulate you #vs melina who is (50 pages of incomprehensible theory about her being a cast off aspect of marika)

[wayti-blog]

“The human being experiences his evolution both materially and spiritually! When the soul as human being gives birth and creates, the human being evolves!”

“This is simple for the child of Mother Earth, but it still does not know these laws, it does not feel that by means of fatherhood and motherhood all the Divine Revelations were placed in the people’s hands.”

x

#birth #creation #divine feminine #divine masculine #female principle #male principle #love #source #all soul #birth and creation #cosmology #cosmic energy #soul #spirit #life #reincarnation #evolution #soulpath #eternal infinite love

[victoriadallonfan]

Mistborn: Well of Ascension Review

Is It Good: Yes

Does It Have Flaws: A lot

Is It Problematic: Sometimes

Would You Reread: No

Would You Recommend: Yes

Spoilers below

I’ve listened to positive and negative reviews of this book to help formulate my thoughts

So overall, I think there’s a great book buried underneath a slog of really repetitive material.

Brandon is great at writing a mystery, but it’s hindered by the fact that we get incredibly uninteresting scenes that just have Elend, Vin, Zane doing the same song and dance over and over again.

I was 200% more invested in Sazed investigating the Hero of Ages compared to the political drama Elend and Vin dealt with. Or Vin dealing with “wanting to wear a dress” (more on that later).

I really love how Eldritch and Sinister the cosmology is, even as I knew from Stormlight Archives what it would be. It’s handled far more horrific here in a good way compared to Stormlight, which was a letdown imo, so this was enjoyable.

I also really love Sazed’s magical abilities. Allomancy is neat, but the story points out that Mistborn are just.. so powerful they make other Allomancers feel pointless, worldbuilding wise. But Sazed’s powers are more limited while also being far more interesting in applications, so I loved that we got to see that more in depth.

Most of the characters are good, and enjoyable, even Breeze.

Now for the bad.

Breeze and Allrianne relationship is just… disgusting. I really don’t understand the purpose of having a near 40 year old man having sex with a barely legal woman who just recently turned legal iirc. Why was this added as a story beat? Why are some of the characters that aren’t Vin and OreSeur not more grossed out by it?

And no, having the “she seduces me!” reveal does not help.

Secondly, none of the antagonists are good. Sure, they are hateable, but they all lack any sort of impact. Zane is the worst because he is quite possibly the most cookie-cutter CW Bad Boy stereotype in existence, monologuing like a bad anime character about how “we are different”/“why do we listen to them?”/“they just don’t understand us” ala Lysanderoth. And he dies from the worst “reveal” I’ve ever seen; it was so cool how Vin used pewter dust to blind the Inquisitors and improvised weaponry to bypass the skill gap. Here it’s just: “Lmao I just wait to attack bypass your precog, get good”, which I’m pretty sure does not track at all with what we see in the first book (or this one).

Despite Lord Ruler having little presence in the first book, he at least had PRESENCE

Finally, the way this book handles women and skaa is just so odd. It feels as if the story/characters/Brandon treat women as having a hive mind for being obsessed with fashion; in fact, it’s part of Vins struggle that she loves dresses but can’t find the “strength” to wear them. Meanwhile, no male character obsessed over fashion nearly as much, even Breeze who admits part of his design is an act for others. Likewise, there’s no woman who thinks fashion is stupid or just indifferent.

I don’t hate the idea of Vin struggling with newfound femininity vs her own biases, but it’s just so blandly set up that I can’t feel invested.

And I will lose my damned mind if I have to hear one more “you can never understand a woman”/“teenage girls aren’t rational” comment, even from other women characters!

Also, besides Tyndl and Vin, there aren’t any really any women in power nor is that explored. Even Allrianne - who is just… meh as a character over all - has no political power without her father and she’s basically a femme fatale cliche as well. None of the Skaa have female leaders, for example.

And speaking of Skaa, those poor guys. Going from brave freedom fighters and rebellions, even prior to Kelsier, to idiots who are treated as fools who need the privileged Elend and his like to guide them all to the right answer (or they become manipulated or are in fact corrupt). I don’t even hate Elend, but the way Brandon puts him in this position is just such a shame. The story doesn’t even let him explore his ingrained classism or racism/specism for the Skaa or Kandra

Like I said, there’s a great book under all this stuff. But it’s pulled down by - in my opinion - a lot of faults that verge on problematic.

Good but it could be better

#mistborn #well of ascension #Mistborn well of ascension #cosmere #brandon sanderson

[mutantthedark]

OC: Halia "Sigma" Connors

Name: Halia Connors

Age: 23 (As of 2022)

Alias(es): Halie (by her aunt), Lia, Raven, Sigma, Corporal, Bravo 7 - 3

Gender: Female

Birthday: March 7th, 1999

Nationality: American

Place of birth: San Diego, California, USA

Languages: English (her mother language), Spanish.

Occupation/Rank: Senior Airman/Corporal

Affiliation: U.S Air Force (formerly), associate member of Task Force 141, JTF - Ghost Team

Hair color: Natural black

Eye color: Bright blue

Scars: None

Piercings: 1 (belly piercing)

Face claim: Emily Rudd

Height: 5’5 (165 cm)

Weight: 120 lbs (54 kg)

Build: Toned

Blood type: O+

Family: Unnamed mother (deceased), Unnamed father (deceased), Lala Connors (aunt), Ruby (German Shepherd dog)

Siblings: none

Personality: ENTJ-A, a quick thinker and has high intelligence, not wasting any time, gets a job done.

Friendly: not afraid to start conversation, likes to chat with people when not on the missions.

Serious: Serious, yet logical, she's beauty, she's grace, she'll break your knees.

Strong-willed: has a lot of determination and always tries to do what she can. FAVOURITES

Color: Toriquise

Season: Autumn

Food: Macaroni with cheese

Drink: Black tea with lemon, hot coffee and kiwi lemonade

Dessert: Coconut Yogurt

Hobbies: Singing, hiking, play tennis, spending free time with Ruby ABILITIES

Fighting style: Can rely on strength, speed, intelligence and stealth, but she's more into stealth type, can sneak attack enemies from behind, but she's brutal too while in combat.

Weapons: she's mastered firearms mastery, also very proficient with knives and in-field crafts.

Planes: a safe flyer, she only flies for air support if needed.

TRIVIA

Sigma is a dog person.

While Halia is left to train in the Air Force, her aunt felt lonely. But in 2 years (2020) Lala bought a female German Shepherd to prevent loneliness. After Hassan's death, Sigma came back home to her aunt and she was greeted by Ruby in surprise, then she began to love her.

The "Sigma" callsign not only mean the eighteen letter of the alphabet, but also an cosmology. A property of galaxies used when trying to work out the mystery of galaxies and their supermassive black holes.

Sigma sometimes wears darkers gears and clothes on a missions. (stealth type)

She can drive. She started her driving lessons when she was 18, but still was in high school. Missed most of her classes, but did her school work in time.

Used to have a long hair. HATES PONYTAILS. Uncomfortable, tight, hurts her scalp, because it gives her a headache. While being in U.S. Air Force, she used a fishbraid.

Sigma never dyed her hair, because she wants to keep her natural black hair healthy.

Sigma is allergic to sunflower seeds.

Had a boyfriend once in high school, but it didn't worked out well.

Sigma is ambidextrous. Can work with both hands well.

BIOGRAPHY

Born and raised in San Diego, Halia’s parents were killed by the secret organization when she was 10 years old, they destroyed their home while Halia managed to run away safely. Until then, Lala, her aunt found her and adopted her.

Years passed by, when she finished high school when she was 19, Halia decided to join the U.S Air Force, living up to her father’s legacy, then she found her code name "Sigma" in the first place, passed every training with flying colors. Halia was intelligent and very active all those days while in training. She left her aunt too to live her normal and peaceful life.

Other than being in Air Force, Halia rarely contacted her, writing letters, had no time to rest for the training. She build her relationship with her aunt very well for years. Until then, she made her allies in U.S Air Force who could trust them.

When became an Senior Airman/Corporal, General Shepherd and Kate Laswell contacted her that she has a mission in Las Almas, in close air, to help Ghost, Alejandro and Soap to capture Hassan and work with Graves and his Shadow mercanaries.

#art #myart #oc #call of duty oc #cod oc #call of duty #cod mwii #original character #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare ii #Halia Sigma Connors #cod mw22 #call of duty modern warfare #Call of duty modern warfare 2022 #oc profile #artist on tumblr

[stephpotterart]

I loveee your post about how Nandor isnt really a dumbass! however I was just watching the ep where they go to Atlantic city and nandor still thought the world was held up by four elephants? How could this map into what you've explained in the post?

Unfortunately that is one of the holdouts that I have trouble with lol. That being said, the four elephants is actually a misnomer that came later? Originally in Hindu cosmology (yes I went to Wikipedia for this, because my trivia knowledge is good... but sadly it's not that good lol) it's eight male elephants and eight female elephants that represent the eight 'zone' of the Universe. So, sixteen elephants! There's no mention of a turtle at that point either.

We can surmise that Nandor may have heard that belief at some point in his human life. But, I don't know if he would have taken it literally? At that point he might have just marked it down and didn't think on that part much further.

But here's where it gets interesting.

The idea of four elephants on the back of a turtle? That doesn't come around until 1599. In a letter by Emanual de Velga, Wilhelm von Humboldt (who was a linguist among other things) suggested that the idea of elephants may be from a misinterpretation of the Sanskrit word Nâga, being that it can refer to both "serpent" and "elephant" (because of the snake-like trunk). He suggests that through misinterpretation, the idea of the elephants actually comes from the idea of the World Serpent - such as Jörmungandr in Norse mythology.

Now, he did write that with absolutely zero proof, but that does open up another line of questioning for us.

It's known that the Vikings made their way all the way to the Holy Land. There are stories that they helped the Knights Templar during the Crusades.

Now, Nandor was Supreme Viceroy in a part of Persia. That's pretty removed, geologically speaking, from where the Crusades were being waged. Though, the Ninth Crusade, from 1271 to 1272, would have been being waged when he was a little boy. And word travels.

I am going to suggest, perhaps, that one of his tutors when he was a young boy, was either a Norseman himself, or had at least encountered the Vikings at some point in his history. After all, people travel, ideas travel.

So maybe Nandor was taught the idea of Jörmungandr, not necessarily as a fact, but while his teachers were telling him stories. He's somewhere between eight and ten years old, and the idea latches on. It takes his fancy, but he also misinterprets the the meaning of 'serpent', because he's a child who has been also taught some of the Hindu cosmology, as part of his lessons, to open his mind.

So, now two different cultures have taught him that there's "elephants" holding up the world.

And then, he's a Vampire, and he's able to travel to places he'd never dreamed of as a boy. Places he didn't know existed. Like the New World.

And the Indigenous people here tell him the story of Sky Woman, and the great Turtle that is Turtle Island - North America. And it all clicks together! Another culture that believes in the world either being, or being supported by, a turtle!

Even though those lovely people didn't mention elephants, they must be there! They're there in all the other beliefs!

I suggest that Nandor just... learned the mythology at a very young age, and it gripped him.

Sure, he would have learned Empedocles and Anaxagoras' arguments that the Earth was a sphere and not flat - it would have been included with both his Classics lessons and his arithmetic lessons. And probably history lessons.

But, he never questioned that, did he? He drew a spherical earth held by the elephants. So yes, he absolutely learned that the Earth is round, and not flat. He absolutely learned everything that the Ancients had already discovered about the Earth's place in the Universe. But he also believed that the sphere was held up by the elephants and rode the back of a great turtle.

And then came Copernicus, in the early to mid 1500s, who suggested that the Sun, rather than the Earth, was the center of the universe. Nandor, still educating himself at this time, would have read this theory and probably immediately found it sound.

Of course the Earth moves around the Sun! It's on the back of a turtle! And that's why it takes a year! Turtles are very slow!

I think Nandor's belief in the World Elephants (and turtle) are less about a failure of his education, and less about his intelligence, and more about one of those long-held beliefs of childhood. Because it fascinated him as a child, even if it was just a myth. It just... he liked the idea and then it just sort of cemented itself in his mind.

And, when he stopped seeking out further knowledge, he missed the advancements in astronomy etc. I think learning about the Big Bang as the theories developed would have fascinated him, rather than having it all dumped on him one evening by Colin Robinson.

Poor man had his entire childhood and worldview eradicated in one blow.

#nandor the relentless fanart #wwdits nandor #long post #about Nandor's education #World Elephants #World Turtle #what we do in the shadows #wwdits

[pendulum-sonata]

1 and 21.

1. Character that everyone gets wrong.

Lol, we're starting with the heavy weaponry aren't we? You know? To spice things a little bit, I'm gonna choose an Arc V character and a Kubera character, even though only one of my mutuals reads the last one >.>

Arc V

Well... as much as I would like to say Reiji again, I think I've established enough times how misinterpreted his character is, so this time I'll choose...

Ray Akaba, I wasn't even aware that there were still people around who apparently hate her so much, that they would call for the "Ray hater nation" or whatever, I'm not gonna mention who it was but it was very recent, which honestly makes me remember that one tweet pointing out how silly people sound when they justify not liking badly written female character, how they'd supposedly love them if they were better written, when they couldn't handle any of them having one bad feeling for they boyfavs.

And that's really all there sees to be behind A LOT of the Ray hate going around: They hate her because canonically she defeated Zarc and she split him and then split herself to chase him across dimensions, and hate that she was the one who had to give the coup of grace in the duel against him.

They hate that canonically, Ray is one of the best duelist in the yugiohverse, and they will pull the weirdest excuses out of their backside to justify why she's the worst, how she was "too conceited" to believe she could take Zarc on her on, like excuse me, she absolutely took him down, TWICE, not sure what series you were watching, how she supposedly pulled a deus ex machina with the En Cards, as if the requirements to use them weren't ridiculously difficult to meet and wouldn't require a very skilled duelist, how she was dumb for sparing Leo because he caused an wat to bring her back, like, sweetie, the world would have ended anyway because with or without Leo, Zarc would have awakened eventually, that's why Ray set herself to always chase him down and defeat him over and over, like honestly i could dedicate a whole rant essay to the ridiculous claims I've seen made about her.

But the one thing everyone ALWAYS gets wrong is this, and I'm gonna put it in all caps and bold text because it needs to be said:

RAY ALONG WITH ZARC CREATED THE PENDULUM SUMMON AND THE PENDULUM CARDS!!

(AND VERY LIKELY ALSO YUYA'S PENDULUM NECKLACE)

Seriously people, this isn't rocket science, the entirety of the 6th opening and ending is FULL of visual cues about how the both of them did it, we have visuals of Yuya and Yuzu forming the energy for the Pendulum, we know Ray was able to create and give cards to Reira in her spirit-like form, heck, lately the card game has released a bunch of cards that attach the word pendulum to Ray as well, come on.

And that's just something that a large portion of the fandom always gets wrong about her.

Kubera

For this webtoon there is way too many people with the worst takes on many characters, befitting as the characterization of the story is very complex and well-made, and many of them are girls, and the girls can just as flawed and commit terrible actions as the dude characters.

But one character that seems to exceed the number of bad takes rather than the good ones is Menaka.

Menaka is a nastika, a race who in this story are sort of like opposing force to the gods, the author has even mentioned that humans sort of see them like "evil gods", some fit the label more than others, and others like Menaka are the exact opposite of evil, she was actually hailed as the one nastika who was qualified enough to eventually become the wisest king of the clans, and would be the first one to reach enlightenment and defeat one of the main villains. Unfortunately this one villain would have none of that and screwed her over on a cosmological level to the point it costed her everything, her power, her life, her clan, her future, and she ended up being screwed over after her death and then some more.

Without saying too many things confusing to non-readers that's the gist, as as the type of character who was tricked into abandoning everything for the greater good, and lived and died to regret it because she ended up doing a lot of damages for her decisions as well, and then sacrifice herself once more she's the perfect candidate to be hated, mischaracterized, mocked, straight up make things up about her character that you'd thing they're talking about someone else.

Imagine my surprise when I found out that people called her a groomer and the true villain of the story, not like a joke or hyperbole, but as like what they actually think of her -_-'

Uff, that was hard to write without possibly spoiling anyone lol (don't judge me, Kubera in ongoing, Arc V is over :P)

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Arc V

The Xyz arc, that all I have to say, I mean, you guys know me, for those who follow me when it was airing, you know my feelings about it and you know the absolute boredom that brings me every single time any of the xyz dimension characters were the focus (unless Yuzu, Dennis, Sora or Yuya were in them lol)

People love to say that the series did them dirty because they deserved a full arc, but honestly, we deserved a full arc dedicated to the fusion dimension, and I will die in that hill.

Kubera.

You know? Kubera doesn't have overhyped parts, because the series as a whole is just so underrated and obscure, and everything is so interwoven together, that it's impossible to remove any parts without affecting the overarching plot so... *shrugs*

#rose talks #my askbox #choose violence #arc v #ray akaba #one last god kubera #Menaka (Kubera) #I wanted to write more #but this would turn into an essay sorry #sorry to my arc v followers #but Kubera has me in a vicelike grip

[haggishlyhagging]

Hildegard's repeated envisioning of the Church as Mother and her descriptions of the creative, life-giving aspect of the Church, which she likens to "green-ness" (viriditas), her holistic symbol for the vitality of earth, nature, human life and spirituality, all express her insistence on the unity of male and female principles in the universe, on earth and in heaven. Her theology breaks sharply with the dichotomized categories of the scholastics and with the patriarchal hierarchies embedded in their thought. Hildegard's visions fuse male and female elements, the physical and the spiritual, the rational-practical and the mystical aspects of existence. It is no accident that the illuminations of her visions abound in circles, curves and waves, in mandala-like designs, which avoid any concept of hierarchy in favor of wholeness, roundedness and integration.

It is impossible here to do justice to the richness of her visions, the complexities of her thought and the originality of much of her writing. She was influenced by Benedictine teachings and by Galen's medical theories, which defined 'humors" as leading principles governing nature and humans, and "phlegm" as the main cause of disease. She incorporated principles of folk medicine and popular tradition in her medical work and her cosmology, such as belief in the curative value of minerals and precious stones. Since the Latin translations of Aristotle's scientific writings were not then available in Western Europe, she was not influenced by Aristotelian explanations of natural and biological phenomena. Hildegard was therefore quite original in her medicinal writings and especially in her poetic cosmology. Her careful, often quite accurate descriptions of sexual intercourse and her insistence that sexual activity was beneficial to human beings over and above its function for procreation bespeak an unusual understanding of human nature and a rather liberal interpretation of human possibilities, especially considering that Hildegard had lived since age eight in a cloistered environment. Further, her descriptions of female and male characteristics quite independent of one another and her upgrading of woman's role in various ways in her writing indicate that, despite her acceptance of traditional gender definitions, she integrated some of her life experiences into her writing. Women, despite her insistence on their frailty and inferiority, emerge as active, strong people in her writings.

Hildegard, first of a long line of female mystics and spiritualists, derived her authority and right to speak and to think directly from God. God spoke to Hildegard—of this she was convinced and she was able to convince her contemporaries. From this she derived her enormous energy, vitality and leadership.

In three of the illuminations appearing in her late work, De Operatione Dei, Hildegard has painted herself into the visions. The visions are abstract and interpretative in their subject matter, representing "The Cosmic Wheel," "On Human Nature" and "Cultivating the Cosmic Tree." Each of these illuminations shows a mandala with many circles, representing various aspects of the universe, with a human figure at its center. In the left-hand corner of each of these pictures there is the figure of a seated nun, writing on two tablets shaped like the Mosaic tablets. Her face is lifted up and touched by some sort of radiance. This self-conscious self-representation may very well be the first of its kind for a woman. The repetition of this motif and its placement within the illuminations dealing with the most far-reaching, philosophical themes show that Hildegard had by then transcended the conventional posture of self-effacement and humility. No longer merely "God's little trumpet," she wished to be seen in the act of writing down her visions, in the act of authorship. Wishing to be remembered in her own right, she became the first female inspired by mystical revelation to claim her place in history.

-Gerda Lerner, The Creation of Feminist Consciousness

#Gerda Lerner #hildegard von bingen #female mystics #women’s history #religious history #female consciousness #female spirituality