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Tuesday, 29 January 2008 at 2:22 AM | Author: bishop

It is probably unfortunate that I spent so much time examining The Hero’s Journey in my last post. I’ve spent more time examining the quest itself rather than the personality on the quest even though they are connected. It does make it difficult to keep from seeming repetitive. However, I think there is a connection that is too close to be overlooked and it for this reason that I believe the concept of a “public hero” is a misnomer at best. The hero is only public through the process of being mythically enshrined in the literature of legends. But the hero is only a hero through the process of the journey which must be undertaken, usually, for some reason of knowledge or healing but always in pursuit of transformation.

In the legend of Jonah, this heroic journey appears to be running from one’s destiny, but ultimately it remains connected to this mythic element of transformation. Richard and Iona Miller in their seminal work, The Modern Alchemist, refers to this legend in terms of the personal quest for transformation and is worth quoting in full: “If you pursue self-knowledge in the depths of the psyche, you need to learn how to swim in that oceanic environment. Otherwise, you may wind up drowning in emotional chaos, swallowed up like Jonah by the whale. Therefore, at a certain level in your quest for the Grail, it is appropriate to have strong ‘coping’ and ‘heroic’ ego attitudes” (121). There are few better descriptions of the predicament in which Jonah finds himself, tossed in the storm, running from the edict of God, swallowed up in the emotional chaos of his own disobedience to God. We find Jonah to be a hero only through his decision to save his companions and throw himself to the chaos of his own making. But his heroic efforts live on through legend that hold more important lessons than the details of some long dead prophet to a city that, in today’s world, seems no better and no worse for the wear.

But the key to this hero is not any quality of himself per se but the quest which defines his character. How really important would Jonah have been if the whale had spit him up on a reef in the South Atlantic instead of on the shore in front of Nineveh—or never spit him up at all? Would he even been important enough to give a book in the Bible? The personality is not the important aspect of this story; the journey is the key to the lesson.

Heroes are born through the fiction—the novelization, if you will—of the quest. It does not matter to millions of Christians who take the story (or stories, since there are two distinct stories in the account) of Noah as the accurate record of a man and his family that the story is merely a plagiarized account of Utnapishtim from the Sumerian/Babylonian era probably brought up out of Ur by Abram (or borrowed during one of the Babylonian exiles) or that the story of Yü and the flood from Oriental legend predates it by nearly 1500 years and, as found in many myths and legends, based in some historical fact. In their enthusiasm to proclaim the literal truth of these myths, many will miss the inherent truthfulness of the lesson in them. It does not matter that Arthur was by most accounts little more than a tribal leader protecting his homeland. His quest, his round table, his knights are the things of legends and myths. Like the stories of Gilgamesh, Yü, Noah, Jonah, and others of legend and lore, those myths of Arthur have become more important than their accuracy of facts. They teach truthful lessons that are far greater than the historicity of the man could ever provide.

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Monday, 28 January 2008 at 4:59 PM | Author: bishop

If only the mythic journey could be reduced to a paragraph or three, eh?

Joseph Campbell, in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, states that “the greatest tale of the elixir quest . . . is that of Gilgamesh” (185). As part of the heroes journey, the elixir quest is the search for immortality that is almost always assumed to be a physical immortality and, with Gilgamesh, is evidenced in the repetitive mantra of being “afraid of death [due to] the end of mortality [that had] overtaken” Enkidu (32). It is a very subtle subtext in this translation, but Gilgamesh is after the plant that “by its virtue a man may win back all his former strength” (39). This is the same quest as Ponce de Leon when he discovered Florida in his search for the fountain of youth. And, of course, as we know, retired folks have been flocking to Florida ever since to regain their youth—or at least a decent tan. But this quest is always a mistaken quest for physical immortality when the actual meaning gained from the quest provides immortality right here in this present life (Campbell 189). Campbell quotes a Tantric aphorism, “To move toward destiny is like eternity. To know eternity is enlightenment. . . . Knowing eternity makes one comprehensive; comprehension makes one broadminded; breadth of vision brings nobility; nobility is like heaven [i.e., god-like]” (ibid; emphasis mine). The nobility of the soul—as provided through most worldviews, in one form or another, since the beginning of recorded history—is the path of immortality. As found throughout the story, this nobility of the soul is the initial starting point of Enkidu after his initiation by the harlot and the final ending point of Gilgamesh after his journey to Utnapishtim.

As an aside, whole theologies—both Eastern and Western—have been based on these ideals which could provide great amounts of depth to such a study of Gilgamesh’s journey but might not be appropriate for such a brief review as this. I must apologize upfront for having opened a door and not fully walked through it here. Hopefully it will provide an avenue for independent study for those interested.

In an important twist with the particular scene of Gilgamesh diving into the water for the plant of immortality, a serpent rises from the deep [i.e., the Abyss in the iconography of several different mystical cultures, St. John's (of the Cross) Dark Night of the Soul, Otto's Numinosum or 'mysterium tremendum,' Jung's Shadow archetype, etc] and snatches the plant from him (39). As the serpent in the garden of Eden ultimately snatches the immortality from Adam and Eve, so this serpent steals immortality from Gilgamesh. Almost every culture has an immortality myth or a story about a hero on an elixir quest. The very idea that humans can be as gods, having all wisdom, and defeating death is a motif that reaches all the way back into antiquity with the Epic of Gilgamesh, extends itself into the mythical journey into Hell by the Christian savior figure of Christ, and finds itself in stories as recent as the Lancelot-Grail Cycle that formed the basis of Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur. However, it can also be seen that this plant has a direct semiotical connection to the Tree of Life of the Jewish myths (both mainstream and kabbalistic) as well as the symbolism of the tree or plant as the soul in Islamic Sufism. The quest for immortality—the tree of life, the fountain of youth, the plant of renewal, the Holy Grail, and any number of other mythic symbols—is the search for the soul of Man. This is exactly what Gilgamesh was seeking and, in the end, is all he found. As an aside, this same myth can be seen in a more contemporary interpretation played out in the 2006 movie The Fountain.

The journey of Gilgamesh only differs from other quest stories in specific details rather than the general theme. Success is a difficult aspect to measure here. If one means success through Gilgamesh finding his answer to immortality, again, this would depend on what answer one expected him to find. In Part 7 of the text, it begins with “the destiny was fulfilled which the father of the gods, Enlil of the mountain, had decreed for Gilgamesh” (40). His destiny was exactly as given to him. He lived his life as given to him. We see that he was upset about losing the plant of immortality as “tears ran down his face” (39). He believes that he has lost his only hope for immortality. At the end of the text in Part 7, we see the list of gods and goddess listed out that received offering at the death of Gilgamesh. His name, in the end, was his immortality. That his deeds would live on nearly 4,000 years later is testament to his immortality. When he reaches Uruk again after his journey, he finally understands this concept of the nobility of the soul as he tells Urshanabi to “climb up on to the wall of Uruk, inspect its foundation terrace, and examine well the brickwork; see if it is not of burnt bricks” (39). This is a near exact quote from the Prologue of this epic where it has been established that Gilgamesh has done all these things and they are not found equal anywhere else in the land. To steal a line from the 2005 movie Batman Begins: “It’s not who you are underneath, it’s what you do that defines you.”

One interesting note that goes back to the last section with The Civilizing of Enkidu is this listing of the offerings to the gods and goddess of the Sumerians. Part of the reason for my analysis of the bread and wine in the initiatory process of Enkidu by the harlot was liturgical nature of the items. Even here, at the end of Gilgamesh’s life, we see the importance of these items again in a sacramental offering to the gods. We find the specific weight of these items in the closing lines of the epic: “Gilgamesh, the son of Ninsun, lies in the tomb. At the place of offerings he weighed the bread-offering, at the place of libation he poured out the wine. In those days the lord Gilgamesh departed, the son of Ninsun, the king, peerless, without an equal among men, who did not neglect Enlil his master. O Gilgamesh, lord of Kullab, great is thy praise” (41).

Immortality indeed: would that we were all so fortunate with our own names.

Without putting too fine a point on it here for personal reasons, a book written several years ago dealt with the mythic journey on an individual level. “Contrary to our social conditioning” the author wrote, “a myth is not a lie, but a lesson to be learned in the form of something bigger than ourselves though the details may not be exact in relation to reality. Each of us has a certain amount of myth surrounding our own lives. It is inevitable. There are archetypes, values and ethics that are ingrained in our minds that play out in a drama all of their own on the stage of Life itself. And through these myths is the true nature of the individual made known.” Thomas Moore, writing in The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life, draws on this idea of the mythological on an individual level giving an even more direct example: “One day you fall in love, and a person who yesterday was like anyone else has suddenly become translucent with grace and infused with otherworldly value” (ix). It is only by looking at one’s own life through a different kind of lens that one can see the mythic and the lesson it brings and the beauty (and sometimes struggle) that life really is. We are not so different from Gilgamesh or Enkidu or Shamhat after all.

The mythic journey is not an avoidable process even if it is not immediately recognizable in any specific context. It takes looking at life itself with a very different eye. Each person goes through this journey in some form. There is a beginning. There is a catalyst that sets one out on the journey. It could be going off to school. It could be the divorce of one’s parents. It could be a death in the f
amily. But the journ

ey begins in some way and inevitably finds a way into the darkness. It may not be as Gilgamesh’s mountain journey where “the length of it is twelve leagues of darkness; in it is no light, but the heart is oppressed with darkness” (31). But maybe it is. Anyone who has struggled with any severe addiction knows the darkness does, indeed, oppress the heart and there is no light for however many leagues one must travel to find redemption and freedom. Then there is the point where we think we have reached the answers or at least someone who can show us the way much like Gilgamesh thought of Utnapishtim. It is ironic that Utnapishtim’s epitaph was “the Faraway” (30). In the end, Gilgamesh traveled all that way and put up with all the trials only to find that the answers were not faraway but right there in Uruk—in his own home or soul—symbolized in the creation of his own hands. This exact quest can be seen in the previously referenced movie Batman Begins. In that particular version of the Batman story, Bruce Wayne travels all the way up the forbidding mountain to Rā’s al Ghūl only to discover later that his own soul, his own destiny, was back in Gotham City where the answers lie inside himself rather than in the faraway guru who he first supposed could give him answers. Much like Bruce Wayne, our own journey ultimately brings us back home to where the answers should have been found in the first place.

I’ve already gone on way too long here, so I will wrap it up with this: the metaphor of “life as a journey” is something that is missed or ignored on many levels because of a very basic misunderstanding. It is the journey for each of these heroes—and ultimately for each of us—that is the important part of it all. It is not the destination that defines us, but our journey and how we approach every trial. Some we win, some we lose, some we merely walk away from not knowing if we really did win or lose. But the important part is to learn something that propels us forward in an ever-constant growth. Ending with a last quote from Campbell that sums it all up quite nicely: “It has always been the prime function of mythology and rite to supply the symbols that carry the human spirit forward” (11).

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Saturday, 26 January 2008 at 10:58 PM | Author: bishop

Part One

I can not fathom living in a civilization or time period where teaching a man how to drink and eat is a crowning achievement.

I’m not sure that this story illustrates anything of a crowning achievement insofar as the civilization or culture is concerned. The Sumerians were highly advanced on many fronts from technology to religion to language to medicine. I think what we are seeing in this story is an illustration of certain culture codes rather than any actual achievement of civilization itself.

I understand he was only half-man, but in modern times you would need to know more than how to drink wine and eat bread to sit at the head table.

However, for highly ritualized societies, eating bread and drinking wine are symbols almost more than they are a source of sustenance. This ritual practice continues today in many places including most Christian establishments.

I also can not understand a period of time where a woman’s advances could literally change the fabric of a man’s being. I’m not so naïve to believe a woman’s sexual advances have never influenced a man’s way of life, but I am bewildered by just how much of an effect the harlot had on Enkidu.

I think a lot of importance is being placed on the act itself rather than the meaning of the act. The text comes back to say, “And now the wild creatures had all fled away; Enkidu was grown weak, for wisdom was in him, and the thoughts of a man were in his heart” (14-15; emphasis mine). Compare this to the myth of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden: God said, “Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil” (Gen 3.22 KJV; emphasis mine). It has a direct relation to the harlot’s words to Enkidu when she says, “You are wise . . . and now you have become like a god” (15; emphasis mine).

All of this is after Adam and Eve have eaten the fruit and their “eyes . . . were opened, and they knew that they were naked” (Gen 3.7 KJV). But this tree wasn’t any normal tree. It was “a tree to be desired to make one wise” (Gen 3.6 KJV; emphasis mine). Wisdom was the result of the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Wisdom was the result of Enkidu’s eyes being opened and no more an animal (therefore shunned by the animals of the field) just as the eyes of Adam and Eve were opened and they were no longer a set of animals in the garden (therefore shunned, or cast out, from the garden). This wisdom did more than merely cultivate some kind of civilized behavior but symbolized a transition from animal to man or from man to god depending on which layer of meaning is more important to one’s point.

So I think this isn’t so much a case of how much effect the harlot had on Enkidu, specifically speaking, as much as it is the enactment of this transition from ignorance to understanding or wisdom. For this, the motif of wisdom and/or knowledge coming from a woman and passed down to a man is very common through religious literature.

The non-goddess women of the day were a notch below the average 11-year-old boy on the food-chain-of-societal importance; so it is perplexing how not only a woman, but a harlot can be so influential in even a HALF-man’s life.

I’m not sure this is accurate. In many places throughout Mesopotamia, while certainly not equal to men, women could—to name a couple of things—buy and sell good, attend to matters of contacts and law, run a business of their own, be given administrative authority in some areas, read and write, and gain a divorce. Some of the early city-states even had goddesses as their primary patrons showing the primacy of the feminine over at least religious life if not daily practical life.

The harlot issue has been discussed elsewhere on the discussion board, but this isn’t a case of merely a common prostitute having an unusual influence over a man, but a specific induction into manhood or some kind of cultural norm. This is not uncommon for such societies or their times. The temple of Ishtar was highly influential in those days and the priestesses of any class were held in higher respect by both genders. The harlot raised Enkidu up into society from the primitive and uncivilized state in which he lived. In that one act, she showed her superiority to him on several levels. However, once her role had been performed and her teaching accomplished, she resumed her place as a normal woman to a normal man—again, not uncommon for that time period—and “followed behind” Enkidu as he entered Uruk (16).

It’s a very different worldview that I don’t think translates very well into the norms that we accept today and most especially those we accept within the confines of U.S. culture.

Responding to MJ Rose


Part Two

I found myself researching the meaning of the word “harlot” back in those days which led me to a more specific term which was “temple priestess”.

Absolutely. There are, however, three specific classes of “harlots” in the temple: ishtaritu were the priestesses dedicated specifically to Ishtar; qadishtu were the sacred prostitutes that were usually well-born, educated, and land-owning and generally were what we mostly think of when we see “temple prostitute” or “harlot” in the texts; harimtu were the semi-secular prostitutes that worked in the taverns but also “filled in” when the temple demand became too great for the qadishtu. Technically speaking, the harlot of Gilgamesh—whose name was Shamhat—was of the harimtu class of harlots. While certainly working for the temple of Ishtar, and according to the text taken from the temple itself, she was of the lower class of part-time temple priestesses which is most likely the reason why she was able to travel to Enkidu.

Interestingly enough, the qadishtu would morph into the word qadish (Heb. “to set apart”) and is related directly to the word qadosh (Heb. “holy” and “sacred”). In many Christian Bibles, however, the word is translated as “sodomite” and has very specific connotations with temple prostitutes of the male persuasion. There is some loose connections between this concept and the homosexual undertones between Gilgamesh and Enkidu. Having been brought through the rites of passage by the priestess, Enkidu would have been privileged with information of a specific nature whether spiritual or sexual.

I’m curious to know what would lead her to do so, as Temple Priestesses of the time were considered worthy of respect and honor, rather than some “whorelike” entity to be used in denigrating way.

If we examine the incident from the perspective of either a specific initiatory process or a rite of passage, i.e., of puberty, the participation of the harlot would be far from any kind of act of prostitution or any indication that these men were treating her as an object of anything less than a sacred connection to the divine. (The connection between sacred whoredom and common prostitution is unfortunate, to be sure.)

This seems rather amazing to me… as though saying that men are beasts or animals and have no control over themselves and no desire to have control…. and that it’s only by the taming/civilizing effects of women, that they can be allowed into the general public [...]

I would suggest that this is a very astute observation, but I also think there is quite a bit of truth to it that is ignored in our present time. In our age of women’s liberation and the blurring of gender roles, for everything that is gained in such liberties and freedoms, there is a loss that occurs when we overlook the masculine that is brute force guided into a sense of productive adventure by the feminine that is the voice of wisdom and intelligence. This has less to do with biological identity as it does with gender
identificati

on, but nonetheless holds true in those societies where the stratification of biology is less important than the more flexible perspective on gender.

Responding to Susan Claussen

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Thursday, 24 January 2008 at 5:38 PM | Author: bishop

Throughout the Forest Journey, Gilgamesh and Enkidu seem to trade places in leadership, but I think that it is more a trick of the light, so to speak. In the beginning, the counselors wanted Enkidu to go first because “he knows the road to the forest, he has seen Humbaba and is experienced in battles” (20). There is a point where Enkidu seems to be afraid, but issues a warning. Gilgamesh, the good friend and egomaniac that he is, rebukes him, “do not speak like a coward” (ibid). Gilgamesh has a moment where his name is more important than his friend and he seems to be leading here when, it seems to me, that he is really just posturing and goading, if you will, Enkidu into continuing the journey.

All through the text the use of “together,” “they,” and us” is used quite a bit. These two men were on this hunt together, no doubt about that. If circumstances demanded that each take what might appear to be the lead, then that was natural. At various times, Gilgamesh has dreams that disturb him and he relies on his friend for advice and interpretation. Enkidu has experience with this creature, Humbaba, and seems to just not want to kill it like Gilgamesh plans. Whether this is genuine fear or a sense of reasonable caution is not always clear. At one point in the story Gilgamesh cries out, “how shall I escape” (23). But even then, with the help of the gods, Gilgamesh and Enkidu press on with their endeavor. For me, this seems natural and lends credibility to their story.

Throughout Part 2 and 3, Gilgamesh and Enkidu have a solidarity that might be likened to a superhero and sidekick motif. There is certainly a ring of Batman and the death of Robin that echoes through the ending of Part 3. But overall, it would be difficult to pin down who exactly was the superhero and who exactly was the sidekick. Generally, the story beginning in Part 1 is very much about a superhero who is given a sidekick by the gods in order to keep him out of trouble with the people of the land. In some ways, one might liken Enkidu as Alfred Pennyworth to Gilgamesh as Bruce Wayne. The former working toward keeping the latter out of trouble and coming to the rescue when needed.

(Assignment for WorldLit: Discussion Board 2. Note: This is merely over “Parts 1-3″ in the text.)

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Thursday, 24 January 2008 at 4:59 PM | Author: bishop

The process of civilization begins with the transition from the natural to the custom. Enkidu starts out running with the animals, his own countenance as a wild animal. The description of Enkidu is quite straightforward: the trapper says to his father, “[Enkidu] ranges over the hills with wild beasts and eats grass” (14). Enkidu is the original wolf boy of Hesse, claimed by humans but captured through the “woman’s art” (ibid) to be turned into a man. Of interesting note, the trapper already knows that Enkidu is immortal or divine. The transition from animal to man is not one of merely the physical civilization of a wild human, but of bringing forth an understanding of this inherent divine nature of Enkidu. This could be a whole topic in itself which time and space prohibit here.

The harlot is brought from the temple of Ishtar. The cult of Ishtar was one of a sexual nature. Briefly, women were expected to provide services to men and there is some indication that much of the rites of puberty for both genders were a subject of the temple’s purpose. In some ways, this civilization process of Enkidu could be seen as the transition from child (the wild animal) to the adult (the civilized man). But also there are hints here of a similarity of transition from ignorance into wisdom. Much like the myth of the garden of Eden with Eve and the serpent, the harlot tells Enkidu after their six days and seven nights of sexual initiation that he had become more than a man saying, “You are wise, Enkidu, and now you have become like a god” (15). Compared with the serpent and its dialogue with Eve: “Ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof [of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil], then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil” (Gen 3.4-5 KJV).

This initiatory process, brought on by the loss of sexual innocence and bringing the wild boy into the realms of civilized man, is extremely important to the story as a whole. It is likely that Gilgamesh went through a similar process that merely is not recorded in this tale. It is not that different from our own times, however we wish to sugarcoat it, when we understand that many of our transitions from children to adults is a matter of the loss of sexual innocence more than any other indicator. Such transitions held more power and respect in the past than they do now, but our lack of understanding and respect for these transitions does not make them any less powerful in our psyche.

There are physical indicators of this transition for Enkidu. The harlot first clothes him and leads him to the shepherds. The phrase used is that she “led him like a child” (16). In any transition, the newness of perspective with which that event brings can be approached with a new and different kind of innocence. Poetically speaking, this is “like a child.” Next Enkidu is taught how to eat like a civilized man. He was no more a wild animal obtaining his meals from the earth. They put bread and wine before him, both of these specific signs of the initiatory process in several different cultures. Salt is missing from the story for this point to be even more salient, but wine and oil are both shown here as part of the civilizing process. The wine he drank—this is what adults or, in this case, men do—and then he “anointed himself with oil” (ibid). He also grooms himself, it is noted. As a child, or a wild man, he had no reason to groom himself, but the point is made clearly and almost out of place that Enkidu, once he was all fixed up by the harlot, “appeared like a bridegroom” (ibid). Enkidu is now showing his true colors as a man. He has been through the process of initiation that takes him from an uncultured and uncivilized, yet innocent, child and moves him into the beginning of adulthood. However, what we see through all of these various rituals is that Enkidu is provided with the customs of civilized society. With more time and more space, again, this topic alone could fill a book.

Unfortunately, much of the richness of the early rites of transition for either gender have been lost to antiquity. Also, at least for the United States in a cultural sense, due to a lack of understanding of the importance of these transitions more brutal and pathological forms take their place, e.g., gangs in major urban centers (Cf. the shepherds teaching Enkidu to eat and be a man), teachers sleeping with students (Cf. the harlot of Ishtar initiating Enkidu from child to man through the “woman’s art”). While much could be said about Enkidu’s transition being one of trickery and self-preservation on the part of the trapper, there is an underlying theme that could be compared (or contrasted even) to parents working toward the freedom and maturity of their children. And, much like the curse and eventual blessing of Enkidu toward the harlot, our children will curse us for waking them up to the world outside only to realize that we may have given them to most precious gift of all: wisdom of experience.

(Assignment for WorldLit: Discussion Board 1. Note: This is merely over “Parts 1-3″ in the text.)

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Wednesday, 23 January 2008 at 5:55 PM | Author: bishop

Gilgamesh is filled with interaction between the two main characters, Gilgamesh and Enkidu, and various women. There are two specific instances which are of interest in this story: Enkidu with the harlot beginning in Part 1 and concluding in Part 3 of the text and Gilgamesh and Ishtar at the beginning of Part 3. In the former, there is a theme of initiation and innocence lost. In the latter, the theme of jealousy and rage play a large role. Both stories are interesting in their portrayal of women in relation to men.

At the beginning of Part 1, Enkidu is awakened to his manhood by the “woman’s art” (14). The whole story of Enkidu and the harlot contains several references that could be directly connected to the creation story of the Christian Bible. Enkidu, for instance, lays with the harlot for “six days and seven nights” (ibid). But, more importantly to the story here is the connection of the creation story with that of the generative process that was a popular motif of the times. During the encounter with the harlot, there is a clear indication of an initiatory process that imparts wisdom to Enkidu. Not only does the wildness of Enkidu become tame as the animal nature is elevated to a new, more human, consciousness, but he is further imparted with a wisdom that makes him like unto a god. The harlot says to him, “‘You are wise, Enkidu, and now you have become like a god’” (15). Very much like the serpent in the garden of Eden with Eve, there is a statement of human sexuality opening up the door between that which is merely animal or unsophisticated in man and that which is god-like. It is a reproductive or generative myth that places the ability to make another in one’s own likeness on the same level as the creative process of a god.

However, examining the details of this initiation, we can see that Enkidu is transformed by this act through the feminine and becomes something more than merely human. The story has already established the near god-like qualities of Gilgamesh in Prologue of the text going so far as to say “two thirds they made him a god and one third man” (13). But here we see that Enkidu is elevated to the same stature as Gilgamesh through this initiation by the harlot.

It is interesting to note that the harlot came from the temple of Ishtar. The temple prostitutes, while certainly an unfortunate choice of words in our own times, were highly revered and sacred in their own right. They held a particular status among the ordinary people of the times. To the common man, these harlots or priestesses of Ishtar played a role as Ishtar. It was not something to be taken lightly or mocked in any way. This role of the harlot in the story of Enkidu is important because it shows that he was not brought out of his wild animal state merely through a sexual encounter, but through the specific and dedicated efforts of Ishtar’s servants or—one might suggest by proxy—of Ishtar herself.

So while Enkidu was transformed from a base creature to human to a god, there was a certain responsibility imparted to him in that transformation. Part of that responsibility was to tame Gilgamesh. There are some sexual overtones to the story between Gilgamesh and Enkidu that provide hints of possible homosexual connection between the two men with the passive role given to Enkidu (15-16). [It could also be said this is merely one reading of this particular translation.] There is certainly a similarity between the friendship of these men and the later description of David and Jonathon in 1 Samuel 18:1. Regardless of this possibility, Enkidu is supposed to be an equal to Gilgamesh and this passive, companion mode of Enkidu could be seen as a direct result of the transformation and elevation of the man by the initiatory process of Ishtar’s sexual cult through the woman of the harlot.

Stealing a line from Spiderman: with great power comes great responsibility. This wisdom and humanity that is given to Enkidu was welcomed at first. But at the end of his life, Enkidu curses the harlot for giving him his humanity. He had to be reminded by a god that the woman had given him life, wisdom, and opportunity. In his understanding that life has both the pleasure and the pain, he recants his curse and blesses the woman (27).

After all is said and done, Enkidu seems to provide a certain amount of balance to the story. He understands that wisdom is both a blessing and a curse, that it requires a great deal more than merely running around catering to the lowest animal nature, and that his transformation was due to the balancing nature of the feminine.

Gilgamesh, on the other hand, seems to provide us with a caricature of power gone mad. We see from the first part of the story that Gilgamesh is a man in whom his passions have gone wild. In contrast to Enkidu who was a wild man on the outside, tamed by a woman’s art to the royalty on the inside, and initiated into the wisdom of the gods, Gilgamesh is royalty on the outside and wild on the inside. He still has a certain wisdom that could be compared to “street smarts” because he knows that he can build better walls and temples, all signs of the outward nature of Gilgamesh. But internally, Gilgamesh is full of turmoil and dreams.

It is interesting to examine Gilgamesh in this light. His dreams are interpreted for him, first, by his mother and then later by Enkidu. But these wild passions inside Gilgamesh cause trouble even among the gods (13). Until the creation of Enkidu, the only manner in which Gilgamesh viewed men was as second best or next in line to his own lusts and desires. In fact they are nameless in the story, not even worth enough to hold any kind of identity to Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh never really learns the lesson either. In the end, it is his scorn of Ishtar that directly results in the death of Enkidu. In Part 3, we see a conversation between Ishtar and Gilgamesh. Ishtar sees the accomplishments of Gilgamesh and wants to shower him with all kinds of gifts. What she does not offer him, ironically enough, is a sense of adventure and manhood that is shared between Gilgamesh and Enkidu all through episode of the Forest Journey.

Gilgamesh rebukes Ishtar by insulting her very nature. When she complains to the gods that she has been insulted, the gods agree with Gilgamesh’s assessment of her, they also agree that she has been insulted in tone if not in manner. They provide her with the Bull of Heaven to avenge her honor (25). Up to this point, Gilgamesh has had the nameless women of his conquests and his mother. Now he is dealing with a woman—even if a goddess—on her own terms.

The story starts out with Ishtar’s very abundant offerings. And then the inevitable happens: “Gilgamesh opened his mouth” (24). The downfall of every man in dealing with a woman is that he inevitably opens his mouth and begins to speak when it would be much more effective just to keep quiet. From here things just go downhill quickly. The second step in any good argument of a relationship is that next inevitable event characterized in this story with, “Ishtar opened her mouth” (25). And the fight was on. The end result of this brawl is that Gilgamesh and Enkidu slaughter the Bull of Heaven and someone has to pay. Being the good friend that he is, Enkidu takes the fall and leaves Gilgamesh all torn up about it.

Throughout the text, both men come into their own through women in some form. Enkidu becomes a man, no more an animal, through the “woman’s art” of the harlot. Through Ishtar, directly or indirectly, Gilgamesh both gains and loses an equal. There is no doubt in reading this story that change was inevitable to both of these men. The lessons learned and the journeys taken were facilitated, hampered, and even destroyed through their interactions with the feminine.

(Assignment for WorldLit: Journal 2. Note: This is merely over “Parts 1-3″ in the text.)

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Sunday, 20 January 2008 at 7:24 PM | Author: bishop

So one of my closest friends posts a video and some questions:

What do you want out of this life?
What are you waiting for?
What is truly important to you?
Is it important because others want it to be? or because it really is to you?

I think these are very important questions. I think it’s interesting to look back and see how the answers have changed over the years. A decade or more of growing up, maturing, doing the right things, doing the wrong things, all of this shapes the way we examine these questions—and the answers we give them at various points in our life—and how they affect the choices we make.

Part of my own personal path for the last two decades has been what my brother and I referred to as the Path of the Harlequin. It’s not an easy path by any means. It is one of the more difficult since it means that you are little more than a reflection of the moment. Admittedly my brother was never very good at manifesting this path. His own childhood was filled with turmoil and change. His adulthood was transformed into one of control and fear of losing control, of losing the very thing that made his life so attractive to me when we first met in 1989. I grew up with a life that was supremely predictable. While I tended to be very unpredictable as a child, my life was surrounded by the routine. This is not to suggest by any means that my life was boring, miserable, or even unadventurous. Quite the contrary, but it was still one of constant routine and predictability. I once remarked that I had no problem with change, it was unpredictability that I did not like. Change is inevitable. I don’t mind change.

My life is a product of that which is my deepest desires combined with both an unconscious and conscious will to drive my life further than it has been before. This requires change. The Path of the Harlequin is not about jokes or unpredictability. It is about conscious change and the unconscious ability to keep up with change on a moment by moment basis. I have not always been successful in this path, but it has not failed me either. The song in the video that my friend posted speaks to me of change. It is the examination of a life in light of change. It is about taking a hold of the moment, seizing the day, looking at what is in our hand now rather than what we wish was there.

I am glad to have made decisions to move forward—as if I had any other decision to make. It was the decision to examine life, change life, embrace life, and be motivated to do more with life than I had before.

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Friday, 18 January 2008 at 12:32 PM | Author: bishop

I think this day will just start out with a quote:

The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.
—Dorothy Nevill

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Thursday, 17 January 2008 at 5:44 PM | Author: bishop

Leadership is an interesting concept to me. I believe that there are certainly natural born leaders and those who stumble into a position and make the best of it. For the moment I deny that leaders can be groomed—at least with any regularity or consistency. I picked up a couple books from HR this morning. I think they will make interesting reading. In any case, I only mention all this because in a conversation after the trip to HR, I was discussing roles in and out of leadership. I cannot remember where I read it—and this is assuming that I didn’t actually dream it or make it up and merely attribute it to someone else—but I seem to recall a breakdown where there were four kinds of people in business or in corporate environments. There are superheroes, sidekicks, villains, and regular citizens.

  1. Regular citizens are easy to figure out. They are the standard, everyday employee. Nothing remarkable about them except that they can be motivated by heroics and threatened or coerced by villainy.

  2. Superheroes are those who are natural leaders.

  3. Sidekicks are those who are not quite leadership material but they still hold very powerful abilities to get things done, follow directions while also being capable of functional and reliable independent thinking, and capable of supporting the superhero while expressing their own opinions and being their own person.

  4. Villains are those who work against the superheroes. While not necessarily the same as in the comic books—though there is some inherent similarity—villains are those who work toward change, whether subtle or radical. They do not necessarily have to oppose the superhero, but generally move the regular citizens in directions that may or may not be according to the plan of the superhero.

It’s interesting to me to see how people fall into these categories—and especially when regular citizens get it into their head that they are somehow superheroes.

I know I’m a sidekick. I do well with independent thinking, even leadership roles for short periods of time. But, overall, I’m neither a natural born leader nor equipped to deal with all the responsibilities of full superhero status.

I really am okay with this.

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Thursday, 17 January 2008 at 5:25 PM | Author: bishop

I’ve just been totally blown away. My boss came down and asked me to go explain to a VP about the reasoning behind a software request I’d made for one of the girls upstairs. He added that he wanted me to come see him afterward. I explained my reasoning, got my approvals—after apparently she had told him that absolutely no one needed such a purchase—and I went to his office.

Given that I have co-workers who read my journal, I cannot disclose any details, but I can say that I got a bonus that is not only very timely in nature for my family, but is very much unexpected and phenomenally more than I would have thought if I’d been asked to guess.

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Thursday, 17 January 2008 at 1:40 AM | Author: bishop

I am Antinomianistic; that is, I do not see the world or its inhabitants in black and white terms—I find the demotic to be much more interesting than the flights of fancy held up as faith and stability. I am Bibliogenic since I am an author and continue to work on my art. I am Cenobitic due to my continued membership in a religious fraternity. I am Deiparous since I believe that each of us is capable of bringing forth the divinity from within us. I am Erotetic because I continue to search not merely for answers but for even more questions. I am Flosculatic since I practically live within the pages of a thesaurus to find new and grander ways to say anything at all. I am Gnostic since I believe that knowledge is something that is personal, discoverable, and awesome in power. I am Hypnoetic due to a sense of my own logic continuing even when I’m not trying to be. I am Ideogenic because I am always generating ideas for new things, new projects, new elements to explore. I am Juxtapositic because I really do enjoy switching things around—anything at all really—just to see what will become of them. I am Kathenotheistic since my personal god may or may not have any resemblance to anyone else’s personal god. I am Locupletatic—or I would like to think that I am—since I make every attempt to enrich the lives of people around me. I am Mystagogical in the sense that I look at what may seem mysterious and interpret it as some dealing of god with my soul. I am Neophrastic because I love to work with new words and new phrases, to break new ground if possible in all kinds of areas. I am Organicistic since I perceive the world around me in both living and social structures to be organic in nature. I am Philoprogenitive because I dearly love my children. I am Quaeritatic due to my insatiable questioning nature. I am a Romanticist both philosophically and artistically. I am Sophianic in my absolute devotion to seeking after wisdom. I am Threptic since I raise my own children. I am Uglyographic and a mere glance over any of my notes from any class would be sufficient proof of this. I am a Verbomaniac and I don’t believe this is in question—especially if one has read this far. I am Weedicidal though my yard might disagree at the moment. I am Xenizatic which is the source of much of my own openness to new things, new cultures, and new thoughts. I am a Yawper if only because Walt Whitman wrote it. I am Zoolatric because of all the things in my life, my precious dogs are the only things that don’t talk back and let me think and work in peace.

In the words of one of the most inspirational movies to affect my life, “No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world” (Dead Poets Society). And for all the great words and thoughts above, in this simple sentence there are found no truer words to illustrate my life.

(Stolen from my Speech class assignment, modified by a single word, and regurgitated in more detail for my WorldLit class. It was basically the same assignment, with only a slight difference in the outcome.)

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Tuesday, 15 January 2008 at 11:35 PM | Author: bishop

I watched Pan’s Labyrinth again today. I got the double disk set so I also have been watching the second disk and all the extras. There is a great deal of insight into Del Toro’s creation process for this fairy tale. In doing so, I found that he references Bruno Bettelheim whom I first encountered through amritamani on LiveJournal. The way he has developed this story is absolutely amazing. As I review several of the ideas that are on the table, the idea of creating a set of myths—or, more properly, fairy tales—that showcase different ideas and details and directions. It is definitely something I am going to be working through more over the next several years as I go through school. In seeing some of this, I’ve found where some of my definciencies are in my research. Not that I’ve been doing a lot recently in this area, but I’m way behind on this.

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Monday, 14 January 2008 at 3:24 AM | Author: bishop

I am Antinomianistic
I am Bibliogenic
I am Cenobitic
I am Deiparous
I am Erotetic
I am Flosculatic
I am Gnostic
I am Hypnoetic
I am Ideogenic
I am Juxtapositic
I am Kathenotheistic
I am Locupletatic
I am Mystagogical
I am Neophrastic
I am Organicistic
I am Philoprogenitive
I am Quaeritatic
I am a Romanticist
I am Sophianic
I am Threptic
I am Uglyographic
I am a Verbomaniac
I am Weedicidal
I am Xenizatic
I am a Yelper
I am Zoolatric

(Created for my Speech class as an introduction)

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