Myths Legends Fable and Lore

So sitting here completely stunned , while I lay awake late last nite thinking wonderous thinks and marvelling even myself and the enlightened tone of those thoughts while secretly harbouring anger hurt and other self destructive thoughts.Amazed because yet again when ihave these little thinks I say to myself , self you need to wtire this down or you will forget , and then you will be mad at yourself because , again you didn't remember like you promised you would and there will be nothing left of this think and who will know.
So instead of rousing the whole house and sitting here hammering away at the wonderous think I was thinking , I shambled off in my half wakefullness content that unlike other times I would remeber and it would be good and I could share with my eager stalkers and they would be content as I was with the think. Heavy sigh
After a lousy nites rest and virtually no sleep I sit here bleary eyed , jazzed on another cuppa wondering if I will ever learn that I should listen to me and myself when I am telling them that it will be alright that I will remember and me and myself shake their collective heads and say nooo you won't , I looks around and wonders who you is and where did they come from and why it seems that everyone is ganging up on I , but we digress ...
Myths Legends and lore are said to contain a kernel of truth , that all stories evolve from a shred of truth and grows with the retelling into the stories of legends and Fables , so my thought was on that kernel of truth , as ellusive as a whisp of smoke , at times as brilliant as the lightening strike on a hot summers night, slipping threw the hands of collective retellers like the sands of time until it is lost and only the story grows and remains , truth forsaken for the dramatisaion of the story itself that has caught life and reaps the soul of each breath of life it is given in the retelling, building like a small hurricane til it consumes everything else.
Religions of the world built on misguided retelling of lore and story have been founded and survived for millenium , each covetting their own story as the truth and the only , and yet stripping away the austentatious and the arcquane there is a similarity in many the story starts out the same with morale issues to resolve and with the fundemantal principle being that good shall triumph , and so when queried do you believe , my response is in most instances yes I believe , do I believe in a followed religion or religous practice , no , but I do believe , I believe in humanity as a whole , I believe that there are higher powers that control our lives that somewhere sometime we honestly find these answers , but only when life as we know it is truely ended , when we shed the outer skin of our worldly bodies and move on to the next being stage or exisitance that we are meant to be
It is our ignorance that binds us to this world we exsist in and that we struggle with in the TPOH
But returning to the story , the telling of the story , or retelling , the lose of innocence the shunning of the courage to speak the truth and allow the truth to stand alone to be retold in its entirety.
Ever wonder why when we speak of these things we use words like naked , hard stark and other cold and barren descriptions , is the truth so difficult to face that even the telling of it leaves us in a fragile state stripped of our defenses and layed open to critisisms and harm that we are unable to face this ?? Is that why when retelling even the truth it is embellished for the sake of the audience to mold it to something more personal then it actuallly is ? Investigators will tell you that there are always three versions of truth , protagonist , antagonist and the middle ground garnered from a collection of both sides spoken , which inevitably leads to the closest thing to the "real"truth that is being sought.
When we all know that "reality"" is the percieved moment from the viewers point of interaction, that each point of view is as individual as there are people that populate the earth, that no two persons will experience the same moment in teh same fashion as each is tainted by personal experience that precludes them from the others thoughts and responses
And so with that how is it that some may judge others to be crazy or lack reality when it is meerly the lack of percieved reality that one is lacking and which is the truth ?? Who speaks the truth if both are correct in their own perception, the truth then becomes an agreement between the parties as acceptable version of events or occurances by retelling the facts as percieved by individuals and processed by the tainted experiences of past to be projected on the future or the story.
Then it dawned on me that my writting is like this at times , confused , not entirely interactive and somewhat fringe like in its percieved existance. I could try to contain these thoughts but in the past that has led to some serious consequences that remain today as bright and sore and a fresh scar carved deep into my worldly self and bared only to the most intimate of consorts
thoughts can be like a praire storm that I remember as a young child , being in teh open field the air charged with electricity so much so that the hair on my airs stood on end , the smell of fresh rain and charred air a subtle and delightful mix , but broiling just out of the most attuned sensory perception roiling with charged ions blown on the front of the wind that carried the storm
At times I stand on the shores of desolation raging against the hurricane force winds screaming teh silent screams against the wind and waves that threaten to sweep me into the ocean of unknown and yet I stand alone , legs apart fist raised in anger and rage on unmoved by the violence that threatens to sweep me away and my thoughts swirl around in this storm free to go where they want
Then there are the quiet moments of solitude when the clarity of thought is as bold and striking as the altered back lighting of sun on a noon day square in the center of a highly populated area, dirt and dust cowered in the unseen corners litter blown by like autumns leaves on a forest floor , but the peace and surity of the moment so calming that it makes me tremble
Writting can be like that for me , words sometimes leave me at a pace that even my hands can not keep pace and yet when it is complete leaves me a withered and empty husk , lightened by the release of the burden of carrying these words purged of the weight of the story , released to grow and be nutured by others in the retelling and to take life of itself and move on, like a child sweet and innocent growing and becoming something of its own an entity of itself
The kernel of truth released , why do we seek that which we can not control , the dreams that can not be realised and when they are met , not welcomed with open arms but discarded as beneath our contemplation because they were less then what we had come to expect them to be.
Success , as defined and sought individually as our own personal experience will allow, measured by commonly accepted versions of truth , and judged on these merits. To whom do these belong
Those collective anonymous them , they who we as meer mortals seek approval from , who we desperately attempt to please with our everyday attempts and who drive us to the pursuit of happiness , bombarded constantly by their perseptions of what we need to make us happy to make us whole and complete and a better person , why is it that we continue to look in the wrong direction for the truth , it lies within , nestled next to that other power we seldom use, inner strength , the determination we use to frequently in the misguided believe that we are making a difference in others as we move through their lives and gathering their rewards for it as our own to placate our needs to feel good and righteous and worthy ? The failure in this is what I believe is what has caused humanity to seek the diety of God like statures to unburden themselves with thier guilt and a place to move the balance of personal need to another to free themselves to continue unempeeded by day to day life activities until they have found the end of this journey and move to that other exisitance. Why else would there be so many similarities in these legends myths and fables modern or ancient lore , the threads of tale are the same simply rewoven to a cultural or societal relevance ?
And yet at the heart of all these lays a truth , yet unspoken , lost and forgotten , to capture this would be to hold the power of untold stories , of unimaginable depth and meaning because to speak the truth is to leave oneself open to the critism of others and to lay bare the soul of the founder in honesty and with integrity to stand against the masses and rail against the injustice of retelling , the key to this is finding that common thread of mutually exclusive but agreed on perception and reveal the naked truth in this light , but surely only a god or god like personage could manage such a miracle as to attempt the retelling of any story in truth , without prejugdice or malice and not for personal gain but the betterment of the telling ?
and so it remains , myths legends and lore , fables of past deeds done in the name of society