Fly In The Spyders Mouth

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Lord Of The Flies

This book, in a way, and I do not mean to sound egotistical, was written about me, because are not written in the way people might think, and  soul of Pisces or host is in the  spyders mouth. What most summaries of the book do not mention is water and air as being very important to the entire theme of the story. Water, in astrology is soul, and the 12th house is the primordial ooze from which we all come from. The conch, with its shape of a vortex, "nature says vacuum's can't exist" is the connection to G-d that shows up in simple sea creatures. It seems these simple sea creatures still have a connection to something that we as humans have lost in some way. I am a Pisces, and it is not just Pisces overall I have almost a natural chart in the sense that Pisces is associated with the 12th house. But, unfortunately, the sign Aquarius is on the 12th house cusp. That might show slavery or onership in some way. Aquarius the Water Bearer, is not pouring out water. I think, it is a sign that has moved in some way from the Capricorn origin to the new sign, with Uraneus, the higher vibration of mercury, as the ruler. The glasses that Piggy wears might be a very important issue, in the sense that seeing would be something that might be important. But it is the 9th sign of the zodiac, or the satyr, or the archer that is the sign associated with seeing. Nimrod is also associated with Sagitarius as being the dog of mythology that is at the gate of the Tower of Babel. THe book was written in 1954

The Lord of the Flies

Everything seems to be moving slowly backwards. People are walking backwards, cars are driving backwards. As the speed picks up, you hear the sounds of life playing out like an eerie record in reverse, the very atoms screaming in protest. The days and nights start to fold into one another speeding by until the scene before you has the effect of a flickering film. The signs of human life move by so quickly now that all you can see of your world, the place you know so well, are its buildings and trees slowly getting younger and younger.

Now you are racing backwards in years… 1,2,3,7, 10, 20, 40… the neighbourhood turns heritage, then colonial, and then to farmland. Trees swarm in–old growth trees in an ancient rainforest that seems to breath with the rhythm of life. There are no visible signs of humans, only the dim light of an ancient natural landscape. Hardly any years have passed between you and this mythical world of shadow and mystery, yet the flicker of civilization is lost in an ocean of nature where the stars are heavens and the shadows are spirits.

You rise from the ground in your time machine and cross the earth with a blinding speed. You are heading to the Mediterranean, although it won’t be called this for many centuries. The dial on your time machine is slowing down. 1100BC, 1150BC, 1175BC… you are almost there, almost at your destination, deep in

in the ancient world.

You see the outline of the Pillars of Hercules below you, what we will call the straight of Gibraltar. Time is slowing from years to days and the flicker of light and dark replaces the dimness of shooting years. Your ship hugs the African coastline. Below you can see small wooden fishing and trading ships plighing the seas from the delta of Egypt’s silt filled waters. You turn your ship north and the water turns from a silty brown to a bright assure green as golden dessert sands melt into the sea.

Now you are on the ancient Levant, what will one day be Isreal and Lebanon. And there is a city. It is an island fortress with its homes, temples and palaces hidden snugly behind cyclopean walls that tower out of the sea like cliffs. Ships are sailing in and out of its stone harbour, bringing the cargos of a Bronze Age civilization with them.

You settle your ship within the harbour. It is invisible to the inhabitants, and you put on a costume generated for this journey. You take a deep breath and step out of the ship.

You are at once surrounded by a busy scene. Merchants with long colourful robes and exotic, dark beards braided and squared at the bottom in Assyrian style stroll with parasols through markets full of poor sunburnt sailors unloading nets of fish. Women in multicoloured dresses are shopping for figs, dates and grape leaves. Your nose fills with the scents of fried fish, lamb and bread and you can hear the sizzling of barbecues and can see kabobs being turned over hot coals. The people here are mostly poor. There seem to be more rags or tattered robes than what you would expect from a Bronze a Age civilization and the number of beggars who approach you with pleas for alms is uncomfortable.

There is a commotion in the fish market. A trumpet or rams horn is heard and a wild looking priest rises above the crowd. You listen carefully as your ear translator alters the Semitic sounds into English. The priest is saying something about the people of the sea, something about famine. There are invasions and fires along the coasts. The once thriving cities have been destroyed. The Hittites, their great neighbour to the north, have been starved and the Egyptians are under attack. The sailors in the crowd start murmuring about how it is no longer safe to leave port and some merchants are shaking their heads.

The priest tells the people that it is their impiety to the god of thunder and rain that has caused this tragedy. There is no more food. The heat has grown unbearable and has baked the earth for years, turning lush fields into desserts so dry the earth cracks from the heat. The cities of the world have turned to dust bowls of starvation and the roads are filled with roaming bands of marauders in search of food and water, killing mercilessly wherever they go and emptying the land of all life before dying of starvation themselves. The world is coming to an end and this maritime citadel off the coast of the levant is its stronghold.

They must pray for rain. They must sacrifice to the thundering god, Baal! Raise Baal, the ancient god, the mountain god, the god who was swallowed by the underworld. It was you who abandoned the great god and prayed instead to a weak god of irrigation. Now is Baal’s revenge. Baal has pulled his rain from the earth and has baked it. Raise Baal from the dead and allow the rains to return. It is time to sacrifice! Your children! Only the ultimate sacrifice will save. Only the ultimate sacrifice will appease the great god. Bring your children to the fires of baalezebub. THat supposedly means ball of flies