The Furious Spinner

Kevin emailed me this little tidbit, "I saw a blurb in the paper tonight that said in a recent poll about half of adults polled believed oatmeal was made from wheat. For some strange reason I immediately thought of the last presidential election. I guess the majority of those people voted. About half of the people you ask today are convinced the emperor has clothes, too..." I laughed outloud when I read this. It explains so much, doesn't it? Kevin lives in Hawaii and is recovering from a cold. I tell you this because it startles me. People in Hawaii get colds? In my imagination, I picture the inhabitants of Pele's world walking around hot, happy, and volcanic. (Hey, it's my imagination: I can imagine whatever I like.)

Can you hear Pele's belly laugh at that?

I like Polynesian mythology. The stories make such little sense to me, like most mythology I did not grow up with. And this no-sense makes total sense to me. Mythology should be alien to those who did not live it. It is a code, and it should not be easily cracked. The stories themselves act as tricksters: stirring you up, showing you another world view.

Remember I told you the tale of Maui, the trickster? I giggle every time I think of him, trying to become immortal by crawling into the vulva of the sleeping death goddess. (That's something you want to be doing: waking up a death goddess.) Naturally, she crushed him to death and cursed humans to be mortal from then on.

Can you picture Maui trying to be reborn immortal by crawling into the womb?

May you laugh in Beauty!

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