Category: Other Page 149 of 177

The seven Noahide laws as traditionally enumerated are the following:[7][8]

Not to worship idols.
Not to curse God.
To establish courts of justice.
Not to commit murder.
Not to commit adultery, bestiality, or sexual immorality.
Not to steal.
Not to eat flesh torn from a living animal.

Source: Seven Laws of Noah – Wikipedia

Arcadia (Greek: Αρκάδια) refers to a vision of pastoralism and harmony with nature. The term is derived from the Greek province of the same name which dates to antiquity; the province’s mountainous topography and sparse population of pastoralists later caused the word Arcadia to develop into a poetic byword for an idyllic vision of unspoiled wilderness. Arcadia is a poetic shaped space associated with bountiful natural splendor and harmony.[1] The ‘Garden’ is often inhabited by shepherds. The concept also figures in Renaissance mythology.[…]

“Arcadia” connotes not a human civilization, yet rather a spontaneous result of life lived naturally and thus not corrupted by civilization.

[…] Though depicted as contemporary, this pastoral form is often connected with the Golden Age. It may be suggested that its inhabitants have merely continued to live as persons did in the Golden Age, and all other nations have less pleasant lives because they have allowed themselves to depart from original simplicity.

Source: Arcadia (utopia) – Wikipedia

Cockaigne or Cockayne /kɒˈkeɪn/ is a land of plenty in medieval myth, an imaginary place of extreme luxury and ease where physical comforts and pleasures are always immediately at hand and where the harshness of medieval peasant life does not exist.[1]

Source: Cockaigne – Wikipedia

Aristophanes, a Greek playwright, wrote and directed a drama The Birds, first performed in 414 BC, in which Pisthetaerus, a middle-aged Athenian persuades the world’s birds to create a new city in the sky to be named Nubicuculia or Cloud Cuckoo Land[3] (Νεφελοκοκκυγία, Nephelokokkygia), thereby gaining control over all communications between men and gods.

Source: Cloud cuckoo land – Wikipedia

Though his listener Benda had long since drifted off into sleep, Tob continued his tale, unabated, ritualistically, as if driven by some inner light which must be expressed. As Benda dozed, the words of Tob’s tale blended with the wanderings of his dreaming mind, which bent ever toward his home and family.

Tob went on, “Try as I might, I could not reach the copper knife on Lam’s belt. Though I succeeded at length in climbing up his leg and onto his back, the blade was sheathed at his waist on the front, and when I made a lunge for it, I merely tumbled onto the ground amidst the still slowly slithering vines which entrapped the man’s wrists most thoroughly.”

“Lam laughed aloud on seeing me tumble and roll off him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he offered, stifling further laughter. ‘I shouldn’t be laughing at such a brave helper in my hour of need.’

“‘I dare say not,’ said I in reply. ‘Though, in my short life, it seems that laughter is the one thing I’ve been given which I’m able to freely give to others in turn. Would that I could give more or greater gifts…’ I sat down on the soil in despair, small tears welling in my many eyes. ‘But alas, it’s no use.’

“‘Be still,’ said Lam. ‘It may yet prove to be enough.’ But just as he said that, the deep groaning slithering sound reached a crescendo, and a tough spiny vine crawled up the length of his arm, and pulled the man’s shoulders heavily downward. He cried out, and I leapt to my feet, tearing at the vine with all my might. But bodily strength have I not, and Lam was now pinned shoulders to the ground, as another vine crept up his leg, reaching toward his waist, to pull him fully down.

“Despite the horror of his situation, Lam remained calm, saying to me, ‘Give me then what gifts you have, little one. That I may find comfort in this most inglorious end.’ Through loud sobs, I sprang forward, finding new reserves of energy within the core of my being. Without knowing what I was doing, a tune broke from my lips, and I began to dance and twirl about, in an apparently most ridiculous fashion.

“It must have worked, because Lam bellowed in deep laughter, which resounded up and bounced among the cliffs above, returning tenfold until it seemed the whole putrid valley was laughing. I danced harder than ever, and began to enact spontaneously an elaborate pantomime, waving my arms in an exaggerated fashion, and the wordless tune on my lips suddenly turning to lyrics of a tale I did not know that I knew.

“It was the tale of a horrible monster whose hunger caused him to maraud among a village of innocent men, until one brave soul – a hero – stood up to his advances, and struck the killing blow. It was no longer a comic performance, but suddenly tragic, and tears poured forth from my many eyes, though I did not know why.

“‘I know this tale, little one,’ said Lam. ‘And you needn’t cry, for it ends well. It is my tale. I am – or I was, in any case – the hero.’ And all at once, awareness flooded through me that it was my tale too, or rather the tale of my brother-father, and that as his clone, the shameful poison which had animated that monster lurked deep within me too. I was astonished, therefore, to realize that Lam, whom I longed to save, was the hero who had killed my progenitor. But I saw too at once that he had done so not out of malevolence, but that his act of protection of his family and his village was too an act of kindness for my brother-father, who had suffered long, and whose rootlets had grown twisted and intertwined with all manner of evil from which he was no longer able to extricate himself.

“My weeping stopped, and I stood up with new resolve, realizing that as Lam’s waist was nearly now pinned to the ground, his knife had become accessible. I lunged for it, and with my rootlets was able with a giant tug using all my might to pull it forth from its sheath. The effort threw me back, but I retained my grip, got up and raced to where his hand was pinned. Blade pointed down, though the tool was nearly the length of my body, I stabbed downward at the vine which held him.

“‘Whoa there, little one!’ Lam laughed again, despite his dire situation. ‘Take care to sever only vine and not too my fingers, writhing though they may be.’ I apologized, and taking more careful aim thrust down through vine, into soil beneath. Where I cut through vegetal flesh, a stinking sticky white liquid oozed forth. I took great care not to let it touch me, after a few drops splashed onto me, and I could feel them burn my flesh.

“At last, Lam’s wrist and hand were free, and exhausted, I let go the blade, falling onto my back.”

Benda stirred in his slumber, but spoke not a word. Tob continued.

“Seizing then the blade with his free hand, Lam stabbed and hacked at the vines binding his other arm, and had almost freed his upper body when a horrible shriek pierced the air. Out of the mist appeared a hideous bulbous shape, smaller than a man by half, skin hard and taut, pale putrid yellow. An enormous horrid gourd it was, and with it came a revolting stench. It strode rapidly toward us on viney stalks for legs, and its malevolent intent was clear. I yelped in terror, and Lam frantically cut away at the remaining vines which bound his shoulder, pulling himself up, and hacking at those which still gripped his waist and legs.

“It was no use though, and the hideous being was almost upon us. I ran out in front of Lam, trying to protect him with my tiny useless body. As the gourd closed the space between us, he kicked me away with a single confident stroke, and reached out to Lam with evil intent.

“But his blow never fell, for in that instant, we heard a great whistling whoosh of air, and the point of a stone spear burst forth from what should have been the gourd’s horrid face. And up rushed Wawiro from behind in a fury, who leapt on the beast, and where the spear had landed began clawing and biting, until the gourd was torn to foaming pieces. Lam’s brother Dal appeared out of the mist, retrieved his spear, and with its butt-end pulverized the remains of this foul creature. Working franctically meanwhile with his knife, Lam was able to free himself and stood up with weariness. Wawiro leapt on him with the greatest joy conceivable, though still foam-flecked from the struggle with the monstrous gourd. Lam and his brother too embraced. ‘Not a moment too soon!’ said he, and looking around at the carnage, they laughed together.

“‘Let us flee from this wretched place,’ said Dal. ‘Aye,’ Lam agreed. ‘But not without my little friend.’ ‘Friend?’ said Dal. ‘Who?’ Lam explained what had befallen him, while they hunted around for me. The vines slithered but did not attempt to strike or grasp again, especially since Dal trampled them heavily under foot, and where any seemed too aggressive, he stabbed and hacked with the point of his spear. After a while, they found me, fully in a daze, partly hidden by leaves, some ways off. They took me up, and left that terrible place.”

Benda had woken somewhere near the end of the tale, and said groggily, “Is that all?”

“That, my friend,” said Tob. “Is just the beginning.”

Benda groaned, and rolled over, pulling his cloak over him for warmth.

“After tending to the flock, provisioning his brother, and recovering from the slight wounds and shock of the fight with the vines and the hideous gourd, Lam took me back home with him as his guest of honor. And I lived for many seasons with that delightful family. I played with his young son Bola in field and forest, who taught me the jokes and songs only children know. And we spent endless hours exploring along the shores of the Great River, where I cut and fashioned my reed flute. In the evenings, Useld, his wife, taught me the spells and knowledge of the wise women. She fashioned for me this marvelous hat I wear. And Lam, he taught me the history and tales of his people going back as far as anyone could remember. Though he was the killer of my brother-father, with them and the people of the village – who accepted me despite my curious nature – I was really and truly happy. The poison in me seemed to recede ever farther from memory…”

Benda, who was snoring rather loudly and to Tob’s ears rudely, snored so loudly that woke himself up. Realizing after a moment that his little companion had finally fallen silent, he ventured against his better judgement, “Then why did you leave them? And how came you here today to cross my path?”

“That,” said Tob somewhat sadly, who seemed to finally have exhausted the endless well of his energy, “is a tale for another day.”

Housing was rectangular in shape. The people lived in small huts, made of wattle and daub with wooden poles for support. Within the huts, contained cooking stands, utensils and charred animal bones indicate the family life of early inhabitants in Italy.[9] Some huts contained large pottery jars for food storage sunk into their floors, there was also rock cut drainage to channel rainwater to communal reservoirs. [10]

Source: Villanovan culture – Wikipedia

Used by Sumerians and other Mesopotamian cultures beginning in the third millennium BC, clay nails, also referred to as dedication or foundation pegs, cones, or nails, were cone-shaped nails made of clay, inscribed with cuneiform, baked, and stuck into the mud-brick walls to serve as evidence that the temple or building was the divine property of the god to whom it was dedicated.

Source: Clay nail – Wikipedia

According to descriptions in Landnámabók and several sagas, written long after settlement of Iceland, some of the first settlers brought high-seat pillars with them from Norway. Once land was sighted, the high-seat pillars were thrown overboard, and a permanent farm was established where the pillars washed ashore. The first farm established in Iceland, located where the capital, Reykjavík, stands today, was allegedly founded using this method.

Source: Öndvegissúlur – Wikipedia

Reitia (Venetic: 𐌓𐌄:𐌉:𐌕𐌉:𐌀) is a goddess, one of the best known deities of the Adriatic Veneti of northeastern Italy.

While her place in the Venetic pantheon cannot be known for certain, the importance of her cult to Venetic society is well attested in archaeological finds. A large body of votive offerings on pottery and metal objects has been found at a Venetic shrine in Baratella, near Este. In Venetic, she is given the epithets Śahnate, the Healer, and Pora, the good and kind.

She was also a deity of writing; Marcel Detienne interprets the name Reitia as “the one who writes” (compare Proto-Germanic *wreitan- ‘to write’). Inscriptions dedicating offerings to Reitia are one of our chief sources of knowledge of the Venetic language.[1] The Romans identified her with Juno.

Source: Reitia – Wikipedia

The curtain of night had fallen, but the end of Tob’s Tale was nowhere in sight.

“Forgive me,” Benda said yawning. “I’d like to continue listening, but I need to stretch out. It has been… a long voyage for me to get here, as I suspect it has been for you.” Benda lay down on his back, and folded his hands behind his head for a pillow.

Tob did not seem disturbed in the slightest, and merely continued his tale, silhouetted now against the emerging stars.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “There I found myself in a sack on the wall of the hero Lam’s dwelling, awaiting morning. Neither the first nor the last of my kind to find themselves in a sack such as this. I dared not move or breathe, so as not to be found out, and waited with all the patience I could muster to find some glimmer at a chance at freedom.”

“At the very first light of dawn, before even the cock had woken in the village to welcome the sun’s rays, Lam was up and about, preparing for a journey. Neither Bola, his young son, nor Useld his faithful wife had stirred. However, the second he picked up the sack containing myself from its peg by the door, slinging it over his shoulder, and crossing the threshold, his dog Wawiro heard him from without, and leapt into action after his master.

“Lam strode out of the village, Wawiro following close behind, whimpering softly at having been woken so early on this mission. ‘We must go find my brother, Dal’ Lam said to the dog. ‘He is down in the valley, tending the flock.’

“At the sound of Dal’s name, Wawiro’s tail wagged happily. Together they had had made the journey to meet and relieve Dal’s watch over the flock often enough before, and Wawiro even knew the way. He ran out ahead of Lam toward the forest, and looked back expectantly. ‘That’s right, boy,’ Lam said. ‘Let’s go.’

“As they skirted the edge of the wood, the ground became increasingly rocky, with boulders jutting out from below and strewn here and there along the surface of what turned into a ledge, and as they moved, dropped down to a cliff. As dawn broke, however, the sky did not fully lighten, for a thick blanket of fog was rolling in. It was not, Lam observed, an ideal time to descend down to the lower pastures in the valley, but he was not yet alarmed enough to turn back to the village.

“They kept on, until Wawiro struck the trailhead by which they would ordinarily descend. By now, the fog coverage was near total, and though the sky was somewhat lightened, the way was fully obscured. It had been many days since Dal set out with the flock though, and Lam knew his provisions must be running quite low, and he would be in need of relief. Plus they knew this valley well enough, so there was no need to worry, even under such low visibility conditions. He pushed aside his trepidation at descending under such treacherous conditions, and they did so anyway.

“Something happened on that trail though, and both man and dog became disoriented in their descent. What should have appeared as familiar rock outcroppings seemed cold and wrong, and their footing increasingly perilous. Wawiro was becoming agitated, and whined impatiently to his master. ‘Shhh, boy. We’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Perhaps a little father up the valley than we will have intended, but no bother.’ They pushed onward and down, fog closing in thick around them. Lam assumed it would break and daylight burst in with its fullness at any moment, but it did not.

“Finally, the perilous trail down the cliff face opened out into a rocky slope, and they followed it down to the edge of a field. From this field arose an unholy stench, as of dead things in a state of putrefaction. Lam peered out across it, and as the fog swirled and lifted slightly, we saw a thin trail winding off through the field amidst great broad leaves close to the ground, and spiny vines he did not recognize. Wawiro eyed it nervously, and turned himself fully about, pointing back up the slope and rocky trail from whence they had come, wagging his tail with bright eyes.

“‘There’s no sense now in turning back,’ Lam reassured him. We’ll press on, come.’ As ordered, Wawiro lowered his head and tail and followed Lam meekly as he set foot on the winding trail through the patch of strange vines. As they walked, hearing the crunch-crunch of their footfalls echoing up in the rocks behind them, the ears of both man and dog pricked up. Each thought they’d heard something moving amidst the mist, somewhere in the field. It was a sound between a groaning and a slithering, and hearing it made Wawiro press all the closer to Lam, who pushed on bravely along the thing trail through the fog.

“When they were out in what must have been the middle of the field, the sound had become unbearably loud, and omnipresent on all sides of them. Wawiro barked once nervously, in no particular direction. Lam, his own nerves mounting, did not bother to shush him, but seeing no other course of action pushed onward. Just then, a creeping vine slithered out across the path, just outside the sight of Lam, and caught his foot. He tripped, and tumbled headlong into the vine-laden patch to one side of the thin trail. Though he managed to soften the fall by landing raw on the palms of his hands, he heard a loud groaning slither, and to his horror, other tendrils of vine crept out with rapidity and encircled his two wrists. ‘Go find Dal!’ he screamed to his dog, who commenced immediately barking his head off at the strange slithering vines pulling his master to some unknown doom. ‘Go!’ Lam shouted again, and the dog ran off terrified into the mist ahead.

“The strange slithering vines had now fully encircled his wrists, and both feet, and Lam was pinned to the ground, kneeling on all fours. As he struggled, and tried to free himself, the sack slung over his shoulder had gotten shifted around to the front, and in the tumult, I had managed to squeeze myself loose. Sensing freedom near at hand, I made to run on my own thin root-legs, but observing Lam struggling there with my many tiny eyes, my sympathy was moved for this poor unfortunate human who, I did not yet understand, had killed my own brother-father.

“Instead, I stood my ground, and moved over to where his wrist was pinned to the ground by a slithering, snaking vine, and with my rootlets, I tried my hardest to pull it off him. It would not budge. The man, seeing this pathetic struggle, could not help but laugh at me. ‘Little tuber!’ he cried. ‘Are you the only help the gods see fit to send me, in this dark hour?”

“‘Aye,’ I said, speaking aloud to him for the first time. ‘It is I, Tob Gobble, at your service!’ He laughed heartily, and the sound of it resounded among the rocky cliffs. ‘Very well then, Mr. Gobble. I accept. Reach up now, if you will, to my belt, where I keep a good copper blade. And hack at these vegetal ropes which bind me. Or I fear it may be my end…”