Friday, April 29, 2011

StoryTelling: The Old Alchemist (Burma/Myanmar)



Okay... so somehow this all starts with Michael Jackson, or maybe it starts with John Landis and  American werewolf, or perhaps we can bring it home to the principle of Khepra and the spirit's unending devotion to transformation... dunno. But, today it all turned into me an my lil ol lady (niece born of my sister. She's "1" supposedly) making full use of bathroom acoustics singing "Sing a song" at the top of our lungs while my lil-man, who is completely in love with anything gory, bloody, and monstrous  watches the movie Beetle Juice for ummm...the 4th or 5th  time since I've been here (may my sister not read this!) (I mean...I was right. Yes. He loves it.) (oh my...)  Well, his favorite part of the movie has allowed us an educational intermission to introduce him to the life of  Harry Belafonte, "work songs" and a brief geography lesson on islands and island life. And, I think together the two of us may have created a new dance technique --a moon walking-toe-standing--type of calypso!
  
Well, while the movie plays on---here's a short story on the importance of work!
(oh! And if you haven't ever sang "Sing" to the top of lungs in a closed bathroom...you should!) 





The Old Alchemist

Once upon a time, there lived an wise elder with his beautiful daughter. She fell in love with a handsome young man, and the two married with the elder's blessing. The young couple led a happy life, except for one problem: the husband spent his time working on alchemy, dreaming of a way to turn base elements into gold. Soon enough, he ran through his patrimony, and the young wife struggled to buy food each day. She finally asked her husband to find a job, but he protested. “I am on the verge of a breakthrough!” he insisted. “When I succeed, we will be rich beyond our dreams!”
Finally the young wife told her father about the problem. He was surprised to learn that his new son was an alchemist, but he promised to help his daughter and asked to see him the next day. The young man went reluctantly, expecting a reprimand. To his surprise, the elder confided in him, “I, too, was an alchemist when I was young!” The father inquired about the young man’s work, and the two spent the afternoon talking. Finally the old wise man stirred with excitement. “You have done everything I did!” he exclaimed. “You are surely on the verge of a breakthrough. But you need one more ingredient to change base elements into gold, and I have only recently discovered this secret.” The father paused and sighed. “But I am too old to undertake the task. It requires much work.”
“I can do it, dear father!” the young man volunteered. The old man brightened. “Yes, perhaps you can.” Then he leaned over and whispered, “The ingredient you need is the silver powder that grows on banana leaves. This powder becomes magic when you plant the bananas yourself, and cast certain spells upon it.”
“How much powder do we need?” the young man asked. “Two pounds,” the old man replied.
The son thought out loud, “That requires hundreds of banana plants!”
“Yes,” the elder sighed, “and that is why I cannot complete the work myself.” “Do not fear!” the young man said, “I will!” And so the old man taught his son the incantations and loaned him money for the project.
The next day, the young man bought some land, and cleared it. He dug the ground himself, just as the elder had instructed him, planted the bananas, and murmured the magic spells over them. Each day he examined his plants, keeping weeds and pests away, and when the plants bore fruit, he collected the silver powder from the leaves. There was scarcely any on each plant, and so the young man bought more land, and cultivated more bananas. After several years, the young man collected two pounds of the magic dust. He rushed to his father’s house.
“I have the magic powder!” the young man exclaimed. “Wonderful!” the old man rejoiced. “Now I can show you how to turn base elements into gold! But first you must bring your wife here. We need her help.” The young man was puzzled, but obeyed. When she appeared, the old man asked his daughter, “While your husband was collecting the banana powder, what did you do with the fruits?”
“Why I sold them,” the daughter said, “and that is how we earned a living.”
“Did you save any money?” the father asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“May I see it?” the old man asked. So his daughter hurried home and returned with several bags. The old man opened them, saw they were full of gold, and poured the coins on the floor. Then he took a handful of dirt, and put it next to the gold.
“See,” he turned to his young son, “you have changed base elements into gold!”
For a tense moment, the young man was silent. Then he laughed, seeing the wisdom in the old man’s trick. And from that day on, the young man and his wife prospered greatly. He tended to the plants while she went to the market, selling the bananas. And they both honored the elder as the wisest of alchemists.




Dedicated to my "lil ol' lady"

...it just so happens that we share a common favorite song...



Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things, not bad
Sing of happy, not sad.

Sing, sing a song
Make it simple
To last your whole life long
Don't worry that it's not good enough
for anyone else to hear
Just sing, sing a song.

Sing, sing a song
Let the world sing along
Sing of love there could be
Sing for you and for me.

Sing, sing a song
Make it simple
To last your whole life long
Don't worry that it's not good enough
for anyone else to hear
Just sing, sing a song.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

On Imagination...



"Behold the greatest magician in the universe: It is she who makes  the memory yield it's fruit.  Who realizes before hand the possible and invents even the impossible. To her,  miracles cost nothing. She transports houses and mountains through the air, places whales in the sky and stars in the seas. Gives paradise to the hashish or opium to the ether, offers kingdoms,  inebriates and makes pirouette dances with joy under the mild pale. Such is imagination."
                                                                                                         ~ Eliphas Levi (on Kemetic Studies)









Thursday, April 7, 2011

Blog Talk Radio Interview: The Power of Writing, Who and What gets Omitted?




Listen to internet radio with The Funky Writer on Blog Talk Radio

"...the difference between the writer and the scribe is that the scribe does so with an agenda..."
                                                                                                          ~Seba Akhmed Azzahir 


From Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man:
" I am an invisible man. No, I am not a trace or a special effect. I have at least a physical referent. I have bone and flesh and sinew and gristle. I have angers and passions. The problem is my intellect. People have a hard time seeing past it. They see my body as if it were just an effect of my mind, a magic-lantern projection, an image cast on a screen by a bright burning bulb. I am invisible, then, not because of some accident of biology, some genetic mishap, but because of a peculiar disposition of the eyes of the people who look at me. They can’t see the machinery in the darkness behind the bulb. Perhaps it is because the pupils in their eyes have narrowed to tiny points (the light is so very bright) and so they cannot focus beyond into the darkness. Although it is often inconvenient and trying, I have learned to adapt to my peculiar circumstances. For although I remain invisible, some people believe they can get a pretty good image of who I am by getting me to respond to words. I suppose they fancy that they know me by what I say. My words become me, I suit them. I am a sort of  sounding board, people bounce words off me and by what comes echoing back to them they know where I stand. People find me by a process of echo-location, and by where I stand they determine who I am. I am my own radar image..."