Wednesday, June 1, 2016
A Happenstance Witness and The Holy Ghost:
Neither a novel or documentary, but for the patient reader
a timely story about the collapse of Modern and Post-Modern Times.
By © Ludis Cuckold
God and Theatre (9)
Assuming that our history books are at least partially right (not necessarily as to who won or lost the war, but that there had been one), the peddling of fake democracy began in ancient Athens, which was among the first city-states that came to a dominant position by depriving the wood of Zoe. The justification for such a violent Will and denial of nature begins with Aristotle (click at 8:00), who lived in a time when God and his Mother were chased from Earth and virtual reality began its long march to replace love with dust.
As the professor at above link somewhat correctly observes, without the city there would be no theatre as we know it. For most of us theatre begins with the Greek tragedies, one of the most famous of which is Sophocles “Oedipus Rex”. As the professor tells it, Oedipus is both a beast and a God. Yet, the professor does not explain why Oedipus, according to him a “zoan*”, “a ferocious beast”, “a thing that moves by its own motion’’ (see 59:00+), came to be God. The lecture presents me with the problem of trying to figure out what the professor means by ‘beast’ (why? Because he most likely does not know who his mother is?) and ‘god’.
*’Zoe’, Greek meaning life, a word that in the course of time and with advance of modernity reduced ‘Zoe’ to ‘Zoan’, meaning ‘wild life’, naked life, mere life, crawling or moving flesh; the word survives in Latvijan as ‘mežonis’/ ‘mezhonis’, re ‘meža Jānis’ or ‘forest(mežs)+John(Zhonis)’. In English ‘zoans’ is found as sentimentalized forest fairies. The Germans present their zoans somewhat more realistically, as here per Lucas Cranach the Elder in 1509.
Because I, too, am interested in theatre, I do not trace its beginnings to the Greeks, but to the Aztecs of Mexico for whom the theatre did not mean a tempered or politically correct performance on a stage of our beat and ‘civilized’ civilization, but for who ‘theatre’ was a bloody event on the high platform of Templo Mayor.
The platform was where the King of the Aztecs sacrificed men, women, children, and because he had the authority to ‘play out’ a sacrifice, secured for him and his court the privileges of King and courtiers. The entire community participated in the performance of sacrifice. For the Greeks, theatre, too, had religious significance, but for the most part the community was in attendance not in order to participate, but to make-believe. Euripide’s “The Bacchae” may be an exception to this rule.
Why were such human sacrifices necessary?
As the professor explains, while the city actualizes human potential, this potential is not of a natural, but virtual reality. In order to persuade the ludies (some call them rudes) of the city to serve the King, the King must do something of a very charismatic nature. Nothing has more charisma (attention getting and unforgettable) than human sacrifice. Indeed, it creates of the King a God, Who in the event of an attack on his (and potentially our own) kingdom is able—because of his charisma—to solicit men willing to self-sacrifice themselves in battle to save the kingdom. When the charisma wears off, as it has in our time, Rome—whether it be Beijing, Jerusalem, Moscow or Washington—collapses in on itself.
Human sacrifice has numerous expressions, among them child sacrifice, sacrifice of young virgin girls, sacrifice of prisoners, sacrifice by lottery of the anonymous citizen or countryman, and in the event of an extreme emergency even the King or Queen.
As author of “Oedipus Rewritten”—a play rewritten because I believe the current version of “Oedipus Rex” by Sophocles is a fake of a deliberately lost/ burnt original. Too, I believe the origin of the Greek theatre is similar to that of the Aztecs. My version of the play tells of what happens when an infant boy, presumed to be the King’s successor, is not exposed to the risks of sacrifice (by exposure to the elements) to the Gods. Incidentally, the replacement of Gods with God suggests that the reality of life in field and forest has been replaced by the utopian fantasies of globalists who live behind concrete walls of a city.
In effect, the story of “Oedipus the King” tells why Thebes does not hold or bind its citizens to itself or its 'fake' king.
Because Thebes fails to bind, some fourteen people (beginning with Oedipus’s father—King Laius (?Ludis)—and ending with Tiresias the Priest), most from Oedipus’s household, lose their lives. The failed authority is not due to Laius, the father of Oedipus, but the result of the failure of Iocaste, Oedipus’s mother (once a whore in Corinth), who for a mother’s reasons, does not wish to see her son die, not even for the good of the people of the City of Thebes. After the son escapes the ritual of sacrifice, the only way to recapture his birthright (a legalism) to the throne is by his mother marrying him. It is the mother who arranges the circumstances in such a way that at the end of the story she may wed her son.
The charisma necessary to create and maintain a city, which will exist only if the ludies are willing to dedicate themselves to its existence, is axiomatic. Unfortunately, in our time the axiom has been dismissed by politicians as something that is found only on the moon. Virgin Galactic will take us there. A sleepwalking public does not know better.
The dismissal of sacrifice by politicians in Washington, D.C., Moscow, Brussels, et al accounts for the dismissal of what little remains of much bruised Christianity*. The idea that John Basil, John Baptist, and/or Jesus sacrificed their lives so the culture of the wood could live is for most people living of the 21st century an alien notion. As the professor of Shakespeare may come to agree, zoans living in ‘caves’ have been replaced by zoans living in apartments. Government masquerading as a Cyclops is no myth. The transition has been made with relative ease: all one had to do is dismiss God, Deus, and Allah and reinstate same with the ‘good life’ suggested by Aristotle and offered through taxation and the magic performed by the shamans of science.
*Christianity, a word that derives from the word ‘cross’, ‘krusts’ in Latvijan, ‘kirsti’ in Lithuanian. As an image the word suggests an X, while as part of a tale, it tells of a cross road (it plays a crucial role in Oedipus Rewritten). In the Lithuanian language, the letters I and R have been transposed. When re-transposed, ‘kirsti’ becomes ‘Kristi’. Pope Francis may not be abandoning Christianity as the link suggests, but may be joining the leadership of the Empire in Washington and Brussels in capturing for secular power what has not yet been captured by it.
Be that as it may, ‘the good life’ is a secular notion offered by those who spend their life—from cradle to grave—living the ‘good life’ in a cityfied environment, but are cut off from ‘real’ life. Our imagination cannot perceive (and our time is the evidence there of) that when ‘good life’ comes to its far end, it turns into corrupt life.
The crux of the problem is that when ‘good life’ meets with ‘difficult life’ and its return depends on it’s ability to endure difficulties, miscarriages of economic policies, disappointments, death of loved ones, disappointments in love, etc. it does not know how to replace a BMW with a horse*. What if the ‘good life’ becomes exposed to conditions that cause one to think of ‘ending one’s life’? What if for all the prayers one offers to Whoever, Whoever never makes a response—not even by discovering the idea of God?
*An Latvian anecdote asks a practitioner of the ‘good life’ whether he knows how to yoke a horse to a wagon. The man answers: “No problem.” When asked to prove it, the man asks: “At which end of the wagon do you want me to start?”
This is when marbles resting for a long time peacefully on a perfectly level table start rolling of their own volition off the table, and the once heroic left becomes not only a degenerate left, but an imbecilic one.