The Oracle of Light

The King of Atlantis: sculpture mix; misc. blue and green glazes; twine; copper wire.

I've posted shots of this mask a few times before. This afternoon I took it down from the wall and out into the sun for a good look. I like this piece, and I brought out the camera just because of that liking. I haven't put enough time aside for playing with clay, and this posting encourages me to pursue such pleasure.

These shots somehow call to mind one particular fragment from Archilochos. Here it is, translated by Guy Davenport in his Seven Greeks. Note the range of tones as Archilochos carries us through even this brief piece.

Be bold! That's one way

Of getting through life.

So I turn upon her

And point out that,

Faced with the wickedness

Of things, she does not shiver.

I prefer to have, after all,

Only what pleases me.

Are you so deep in misery

That you think me fallen?

You say I'm lazy; I'm not,

Nor any of my kin-people.

I know how to love those

Who love me, how to hate.

My enemies I overwhelm

With abuse. The ant bites!

The oracle said to me:

"Return to the city, reconquer.

It is almost in ruins.

With your spear give it glory.

Reign with absolute power,

The admiration of men.

After this long voyage,

Return to us from Gortyne."

Pasture, fish, nor vulture

Were you, and I, returned,

Seek an honest woman

Ready to be a good wife.

I would hold your hand,

Would be near you, would have run

All the way to your house.

I cannot. The ship went down,

And all my wealth with it.

The salvagers have no hope.

You whom the soldiers beat,

You who are all but dead,

How the gods love you!

And I, alone in the dark,

I was promised the light.

--Archilochos

(7th century B.C.)

Passage: "Trader" and Paying Attention

My own oracular devices: stones and shells.

Actually, I keep the bits of shell and stone in an old spice jar to shake out the rhythms for the songs on the radio in my truck as I drive; yes, I'm that guy. The abalone pendant I wear fairly often; I found the piece of shell under a rock on the bottom of a favorite cove. Both the maraca-jar and the necklace help me to focus.

The passage I keep thinking about from Charles de Lint's fine urban fantasy novel Trader:

"I guess it all depends on how you look at it," Bones says. "Now me, I figure all oracular devices are just a way for us to focus on what we already know but can't quite grab on to. It works the same as a ritual does in a church -- you get enough people focused on something, things happen. The way I see it is, it doesn't much matter what the device is. It's just got to be interesting enough so that your attention doesn't stray. Fellow reading the fortune, fellow having it read --same difference. They've both got to be paying attention.

"What you get's not the future so much as what's inside a person, which," he adds, "is pretty much the real reason they come to you. They're trying to sort through all this conversation that's running through their heads, but they get distracted. Me, what I'm doing with my hands, with the bones, it forces them to pay strict attention to me. The noise in their heads quiets down a little and they can hear themselves for a change. It's my voice, but they're doing the talking."

"So will you read my fortune?" I ask.

Bones looks regretful, but shakes his head.

"Why not? Let me tell you, I could use someone to make a little sense out of what's going through my head."

"You don't believe."

"But you just told me that it's just a matter of paying attention. I can do that."

"It's not the same."