Hubris

Think Outside the Garden – Origin Myths

The Highest Cauldron

by Anita Sullivan

Anita SullivanEUGENE Oregon—(Weekly Hubris)—12/5/11—My husband recently published a new translation and commentary on the first eleven chapters of Genesis, and subtitled it “Tales of the Earliest World.” This has prompted an extended conversation between us on the matter of human origins, and an expanded look at folktales from all over the world about Beginnings of Things.

Many of these tales, in my irreverent opinion, are way more interesting than the one that took place in the Garden of Eden. Which wasn’t really a garden anyhow, but more like a forest.

Folktales everywhere have a tendency to be local, so that a person viewing a beginning-story from a distance, will notice stuff sticking out around the edges. The Klamath Indian (Oregon) human origin myth begins “There was no land, only a great lake. Kamukamts came from the north in a canoe. It floated along. It stopped.” If this is an origin myth, what about the lake? And where did he get his canoe?

This is like asking where did Cain and Abel find their wives. Upon close examination, the Garden of Eden tale truly resembles, in its most charming parts, many other human-origin folk tales around the globe. I find this to be quite a relief.

Photo from Chaco Canyon of what is believed to be a pictograph of the Crab Nebula supernova that happened in 1054.
Photo from Chaco Canyon of what is believed to be a pictograph of the Crab Nebula supernova that happened in 1054.

“In the beginning, the emitted beings were greatly afflicted with hunger,” says an Origin Myth from the Mahābhārata, and this gives me goose bumps. Later, it continues, “Sprinkled with the resins of effulgence of the moon, the sun that had gone into the earth was born as the nourishing plants of the six flavors.” Doubtless if I were a local member of the ancient group who made up this tale, I would have tasted each of the six flavors, and would know their names.

Of course there are thousands of folk tales about the origins of things other than human beings: corn, mountains, spiders, fire, and so on. Some of these are quite lively and lengthy, and attain the status of epics (as in the Tzutujil Mayan tale of Holy Boy). Creation out of the void doesn’t have much scope as a story. For example, the “Genesis” myth of the Kato Indians goes like this :

“Water went they say. Land was not they say. Water only then, mountains were not, they say. Stones were not they say. . . . .” and after a long list of things that were not, the tale ends “It was very dark.”

Many early folktales – such as the Popol Vuh of the Quiché Mayans – put humans on the earth long before the sun and moon, and they stumble around in a sort of twilight purgatory for ages. In the Lower Pecos River region of South Texas and Northern Mexico, the original humans made a long pilgrimage to witness the first rising of the sun on Dawn Mountain. Local descendants of the early tribes continue to re-enact that journey every year, with great attention to detail. They believe the world would come to an end if they stopped honoring this tale. We owe them a great debt of gratitude.

Born under the sign of Libra, Anita Sullivan cheerfully admits to a life governed by issues of balance and harmony. This likely led to her 25-year career as a piano tuner, as well as her love of birds (Libra is an air sign), and love of gardening, music, and fine literature (beauty). She spent years trying to decide if she was a piano tuner who wrote poetry, or a poet who tuned pianos. She traveled a lot without giving way to a strong urge to become a nomad; taught without becoming a teacher; danced without becoming a dancer; and fell totally in love with the high desert country of the Southwest, and then never managed to stay there. However, Sullivan did firmly settle the writing question—yes, it turns out she is a writer, but not fixed upon any one category. She has published four essay collections, a novel, two chapbooks and one full-length book of poetry, and many short pieces in journals. Most recently, her essay collection The Rhythm Of It: Poetry’s Hidden Dance, indulges her instinct to regard contemporary free-verse poetry as being built upon natural proportional rhythm patterns exhibited in music and geography, and therefore quite ancient and disciplined—not particularly “free” at all. This book was a finalist for the Montaigne Medal from the Eric Hoffer Book Award. More about her books can be found on her website: www.anitasullivan.org. The poet-piano-tuner-etc. also maintains an occasional blog, “The Poet’s Petard,” which may be accessed here here. (Author Head Shot Augment: René Laanen.)

4 Comments

  • diana

    Welcome to WH — loved your writing and your thinking. Want more. Can we read your travel-essay memoir in English?

  • eboleman-herring

    A double-welcome Anita, to whom I’ve written (and been read by, apparently), for years, but never met, alas. You know, you COULD serialize your memoir on WH? Some of us would really enjoy that. This column was a great first outing: like the best of Kingsolver, with a Sullivanian twist.

  • diana

    Hi again, thanks for your comment. I’ll order your book asap. The love affair with Greece sounds like fun, especially if there’s some Eros to liven up the Agape. I look forward to reading it and your poetry blog, etc etc.

  • John Idol

    I have great fun reading about origins, the efforts of the unknowing to explain
    things. What fertile imaginations, wild guesses, utter nonsense. I’m still looking
    for the one that says simply: we all came from mud pies!~