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The 4^th Awakening

23 Dark Inside and Out

A Pre-Christmas Story

The Story of Crazy Jane and Clever John, Part 2 as retold by

© Eso Anton Benjamins (…story begins at blog 15)

As Clever John and Rozinante came nearer the Sun Mountain, the ground under Rozinante’s boots began to shift and move as if it was a rug being pulled upward. Though the mare’s boots sped the mare and Clever John forward at seven times the normal speed of a horse, for every seven feet that the mare moved forward, the ground fell back six feet. Still, they moved on over stone and rubble. Rozinante’s boots struck sparks.

After a while the ground became even steeper (they had arrived at the foothills of Sun Mountain), and there were moments when man and horse appeared not to be moving at all.

“How much longer must I keep climbing?” Rozinante finally asked Clever John. “This is hopeless.”

“C’mon, Rozinante,” begged Clever John, “oppa, oppa, ukkah, ukkah!” [The words meant “giddy up” or “play the music faster”.] “I will give you a day off after we get there.”

“Happy Yannukkah to you, too,” neighted Rozinante in reply.

“If we get to the top, I promise you one yandahlins of a good time,” cried Clever John.

“You use too many strange words, Clever John,” replied Rozinante. “What does yandahlins mean?”

“It means ‘Johnsdance’ or as the French say ‘jouissance' , so much joy that it is painful. That is what Casanova did when he did it fourteen times in one night. It is ritual, theatre, and reality all wrapped in one. It is like giving birth.”

“Wow!” neighed Rozinante, and that very instant wings grew out of her shoulder blades. It was painful, but Rozinante was as if born to them. Sometimes words have great power. Rozinante flew up and around and even upside down. Clever John had plenty to do just holding on. The mare flew up Sun Mountain in no time.

When Rozinante arrived at the top of Sun Mountain, Clever John was in for a big surprise. While rumor told that the Sun lived in a great white manor ten times larger than the White House in America and with a beautiful green garden that was like a forest forever all about, the sight that greeted him was awesome and frightening.

Ak, Dieviņ (Oh, dear!), as a proto-Latvian may say. As Clever John got off Rozinante, he saw that the ground below was but a thin sliver, no wider than the thinnest sliver of the moon. And beyond the edge of the sliver everything was black. A vast ocean of black tar stretched from Clever John’s toes to all the way to the edge of the horizon. Even the sound was eerie. The air creaked as a ship of wood creaks when everyone aboard has died.

“What is this?” exclaimed Clever John. “I thought I would be at the top of Sun Mountain. I see no Sun. Where is the Sun?” Then he noticed that though there was light, the light was like the light inside a bottle. There was no real light but some kind of glass. What Clever John was in the middle of was an eclipse of the Sun.

Everything became very still and quiet. There was not a cloud in the pinkish blue sky. Even the creaking ceased, but for a lone seagull. A voice inside the ear of Clever John said: “The Sun is dying. Her blood has become thick as tar.”

“What happened?” asked Clever John.

“She is dying of thirst,” the voice answered. “The Sun drove her carriage all across the Earth, but saw no one appreciating her but sunbathers. She thinks that no one loves Her. No one in Latvia knows any Johns Songs anymore.  Someone must quench her thirst, give Her something to drink. Blood, anything.”

“Rozinante, is there any milk left in your paps?” asked Clever John.

“No,” answered the mare, “I have but the sweat off my skin.”

“That should do it,” said Clever John and pushed Rozinante over the edge of the sliver of land into the inky sea of tar.

Rozinante disappeared, but as soon as she went out of sight, the blackness spat her out again. The tar went “yetch!”, but the mare was unharmed, except her wings were clipped and the Devil’s boots on her legs were turned backwards, that is, they no longer pointed forward, but where the boot had once been heel, it was now toe. Of course, Rozinante’s color was from the very beginning black.

“I am thirsty,” the voice said from deep of the dark. “Give me blood.”

Clever John had no idea what to do. Then a great idea came to his mind. [He is always clever when he needs to be.] He unzipped his fly and began to pie into the ocean of darkness. “It is all I can do,” he said. “It is better than nothing. It should be enough to bring about a sunrise.”

Something happened then that only a story teller knows how to explain how it happens.

The instant the stream of urine struck the ocean, it turned black and pulled itself back up, and went into Clever John, inside him. In an instant Clever John was black. He could not see himself anymore. Everything around him turned black. He was invisible. Though Clever John blinked his eyes, he no longer could tell whether his eyes were open or shut. Everything outside the eye looked exactly the same as it looked inside it: black.

For a moment Clever John believed that he was dead.

The next installment of the story will appear in the next blog. I will also say something more about the payans (formerly called pagans). While all too many people believe that the term 'pagan' and 'paganism' have been derived from the Latin word paganus which is said to mean "country dweller", the Latvian language insists that the word be spoken and written as “payan” or “payanus”. In the Latvian language “pa-” is often a prefix such as, for example, pa-saule, the World, from pa + saule, pa + the Sun, hence below or less significant than the Sun. Pa + Yan similarly consists of pa + John, the last word or name signifying all the myriads of words and meanings that go with John, including Son of the Sun.

Asterisks & Links of Interest

Unchanged Feature: The Witches of Ghana in Gambaga

http://www.pbs.org/georgewashington/collection/other_last_will.html

Could we have the word and name of Ghana pronounced as Yana? If so, we could then call the withches Yanas (Janas, Zhenas) of Yana (Jana, Zhena).

Unchanged Feature: What is reality, what is myth?

http://www.voltairenet.org/article167588.html

Changing Feature: In the preceding posts, I started a series of video clips, which when seen as a linear sequence tell a story in a particular context. This is a continuous story. I call it The Linden Baum. If the begins in the past, it is now moving parallel to the day we live. Note what is happening around you. Put this clip as a tail to your blog http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQVYYfGTphc so others may see it too. The origin of this post is at http://the4thawakening.blogspot.com/  This is the 7^th video of a series.

Posted by Jaņdžs at 2:57 AM 0 comments