Hammers & Bungalows

When an oak is being felled “it gives a kind of shriekes or groanes, that may be heard a mile off, as if it were the genius of the oake lamenting. E. Wyld, Esq., hath heard it severall times.” The Ojebways “very seldom cut down green or living trees, from the idea that it puts them to pain, and some of their medicine-men profess to have heard the wailing of the trees under the axe.” -- Frazer (The Golden Bough, BK 9, Worship of Trees-Ch. 1, Tree Spirits--¶ 6)

One of my earliest memories occurs at about the age of 3:  


Along with a mandolin, one of the earliest gifts given to me at a very young age was... a hammer.  Not a cheesy, flaccid implement that comes as part of the plastic toolkits that  are so ubiquitous in the modern toy section--but a real hammer with the solid heft of oak and steel (albeit, of child's proportions).  As in Stormie's blog, I decided to reenact and commemorate the purpose of the archaic tool in the manner that a child understands such activity.  Which is to say, I mimicked the ceremony in which that my father employed his hammer.


I grew up in a turn-of-the-century bungalow, similar to the one pictured above.  The wide rails surrounding the porch were the object of my "ceremonial" reenactment.  Hammer in hand, I pummeled the tops of the rails (with the claw end) and was not satisfied until the entire surface was marred with the snake bites created by my hammer's christening.  I have no idea how my father did not hear my thunderous barrage on the front porch, but he did finally see the aftermath...


According to Eliade, myth is the element by which we can understand the "bizarre" behavior and practice of the savage; myth as the necessary means by which to contextualize the social mores of culture.  The above story contextualizes my personal myth.  Just as a hammer has a claw and a head, I was taught that my hand could cause wanton destruction or intentional creation.  


Funny, also similar to Stormie's story, I don't remember being severely punished for my destruction.  My father simply placed my hammer up on the unattainable shelf and eventually taught me how to use the head of the hammer. 

Vashta Nerada (David Schroeder)

Image: pianoladynancy.com

"Where the shadow is regarded as so intimately bound up with the life of the man that its loss entails debility or death, it is natural to expect that its diminution should be regarded with solicitude and apprehension, as betokening a corresponding decrease in the vital energy of its owner."-- Frazer (The Golden Bough, BK 18, The Perils of the Soul-Ch. 3, The Soul as a Shadow and a Reflection--¶ 4)


It's Labor Day and I am in a bit of a playful mindset.  I don't actually have my hard copy of the New Golden Baugh yet, but I decided to check out the e-pub and investigate the hubbub surrounding Sir Frazer.  I am pleasantly astounded at a random passage's ability to conjure mythic investigation.

Image: thesnee.typepad.com

Peter Pan was the first image that sprang to mind after reading the quoted passage and subsequent material.  In the childhood classic written by J.M. Barrie, Peter slams his shadow in the window while escaping from Nana (the dog) .  He later returns to retrieve his shadow that is residing in the chest of drawers.  After several failed attempts to reattach the spectral form, he sits down and weeps.  Pan's despair is illuminated in the quotation above.  Given Peter's vibrant and irrepressible nature, I always found it eerie to imagine one's shadow detaching itself--and what losses such an emancipated form would engender. 


Turns out this is a two-fer-one (apologies for the length):


"In the Banks Islands there are some stones of a remarkably long shape which go by the name of “eating ghosts,” because certain powerful and dangerous ghosts are believed to lodge in them. If a man’s shadow falls on one of these stones, the ghost will draw his soul out from him, so that he will die." -- Frazer (The Golden Bough, BK 18, The Perils of the Soul-Ch. 3, The Soul as a Shadow and a Reflection--¶ 1)

Image:
gallifreyguardian.wordpress.com

Eating ghosts...interesting.  Reminds me of a Dr. Who episode I watched about a month ago.  This BBC series recounts "The Doctor's" (the sole moniker by which he is known) adventures through space and time in the ship TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimensions In Space).


The antagonist(s) in this particular episode, the Vashta Nerada, are a microscopic and carnivorous swarm that cloak themselves in shadow to approach their prey.  These "piranhas of the air" are indistinguishable from 'natural' shadows and, by The Doctors account, exist on nearly every planet, including Earth (though typically not in high enough densities to endanger humans).  The Vashta Nerada are often noticed as the dust motes visible when floating though rays of sunlight.


In the chapter that originates my quotes, Frazer illustrates many examples of superstitions pertaining to the protection on one's shadow from harms, or in kind, the warding off of another's shadow to prevent harm.  In the Dr. Who episode, the Vashta Nerada stalk their prey by forming a second shadow where none should be present.  I find it interesting that a modern Sci-Fi chooses to toy with such a visceral fear as shadow/darkness;   namely shadow with a consciousness and paired with a malicious intent.  The themes play on such rudimentary terrors, terrors that imply the unknown, other, and origin...I can't help but begin to pick up mythic clues in my new sleuthing. 


Post Script: And just for Brownie points, the mythic reference to Peter Pan is not lost on me.  Images of Peter Pan are often portrayed with "pan pipes" in hand.  The myth of Pan's pursuit of Syrinx relates the creation of the pan pipes (Metamorphoses p. 30-31).