Showing posts with label Mythology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mythology. Show all posts

John Barleycorn

I just made a "Barleycorn" mask for a client, and couldn't let it leave the studio without describing the tale first.

John Barleycorn Must Die is a traditional English song - records of its origins go back as far as the 1300s, and it is probably much older than that.    Over time, many variations have arisen, and the Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote his own famous version of the story of John Barleycorn. In the 70's, John Renbourne, Traffic**, and Steel eye Span popularized the song, along with many folk artists.  John Barleycorn is a very ancient, prime myth indeed  - the Great King who is sacrificed, dies and is reborn in the agricultural cycle. In many pre-Christian cultures, the motif is found as the Sumarian Dumuzi, the Shepherd husband of the Goddess Inanna who goes into the underworld for part of the year, and returns to her in the Spring.  The same idea of the dying and reborn King is found with the Egyptian Osiris, who is reborn in the Sun God Horus.

John Barleycorn is the personification of the grain, and the life of the grain from planting to harvest, transformation into beer, and then sowing.  After Barleycorn’s first death he is buried, and laid within the ground.  In midsummer he grows a “long golden beard” and “becomes a man”.  

"The song goes on to describe threshing and harvesting. Barleycorn is bailed and taken to the barn. And then the grain is parceled out. Some is taken to the miller to make flour for bread. And some is saved and brewed in a vat to make ale. And some is planted, so that the whole cycle can begin again.  It is likely that versions of John Barleycorn were sung in pre-Christian times, to accompany harvest rituals. Some of these rituals survive to this day in modified form, most famously the sacrifice of the wicker man. These rituals tell the story of the death and rebirth of the god of the grain."*

  Photo with thanks to  Avalon Revisited
John Barleycorn is, in particular, also the God of Ecstasy - because he provides celebration and ecstasy as the barley becomes the source of beer and the beloved malt whiskey of the Highlands.  The malting and fermentation is also a part of his "life cycle" and divinity. Perhaps one of the most famous "ecstatic"  manifestations of the Wicker Man, his rituals of sacrifice, rebirth, and  celebration is Burning Man, the "harvest" festival that happens in Nevada every fall


It's interesting that in Robert Burn's poem, there are "three kings", similar to the kings from the east in the Nativity story.  Early Christians who came to the British Isles (and elsewhere) often absorbed native pagan mythologies and traditional rituals into Christian theology, and the evolution of the Story of Christ is full of such imagery in order to help the natives accept Christianity. Certainly John Barleycorn shares with the Christ Story the ancient theme of the death and rebirth of the sacrificed agricultural King. 

I am a great admirer of the wisdom traditions of Gnostic and esoteric Christianity, but I also believe it is necessary to separate the spiritual teachings of Christianity from  the mingling (and  literalization) of earlier  mythologies throughout  in the development of the Church.  For example, I believe the metaphor used to describe Jesus as the "Lamb of God" directly relates to Biblical practices prevalent in his lifetime  of sacrifice of lambs and goats to Yahwah.  The later development of  the doctrine that Christ   "died for our sins",   may have some of its origins in the important, and quite ancient,  Semitic Scapegoat Rituals.  But observing recently a Catholic "Communion" ritual ("This is my Body, This is my Blood") I was impressed by the many layers of mythologies and archaic cultures inherant in that ceremony, still important to so many people today.  And one of those threads may very well originate in the prime agricultural myth of  the dying and reborn God, a long tradition from which John Barleycorn arises re-born  every spring.


John Barleycorn
by Robert Burns

There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.
The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong,
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.
His coulour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe,
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a Miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.
And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise,
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.
'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy:
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!

** Here's a link to the song being sung in  a 1972 Concert by Traffic (thanks to Tobias):

Undines

"Moon Pool" (1972) Illustration for Felicia Miller poem

A friend died almost exactly a year ago, and I remembered a poem that she bequeathed me.  We were collaborators during the 70's - I illustrated a collection of poems by her and others.  We  lost contact and reconnected again just 5 years ago when she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Felicia had tried to have a child for many years and could not, and I know that she felt the fertility drugs she took might have caused her disease.

For all those years before then, I carried around Felicia's poems, many of which I had illustrated - they became internalized in me, part of my inner language.  The one I share here is recent.


I've been thinking about the mythic mind, and archetypes we em-body (manifest) in our life stories unconsciously.  At the conference last week, a Jungian psychologist spoke about Jung's notion that the Archetypes have an independent existence;  they are collective intelligences that can manifest both within and through us. I know I often felt that sense when I worked with the Masks of the Goddess collection, particularly when aspected a Goddesses myself.   I don't know if I can explain that. What's "reasonable"?  Are we attracted to certain mythic beings and tales, identifying with them in the course of our lives, or are they already embedded within us, templates of who we already are and are continually becoming?  Is that too fanciful an idea?

 Felicia was a mermaid.   I never thought she was comfortable with this solid world.....she was too mutable a being.   I always seemed to meet her where there was water, and I remember well her sea shell necklaces.    She had an antique book illustrated by Arthur Rackham we used to pore over as young students, and 33 years later I was not surprised to hear passages from a book she was currently writing about a contemporary Ondine, a modern woman trying, unconsciously, to find her way back to the sea.  I am sad she never finished the book......it was beautiful.

There are many romantic stories and urban myths about artists who are discovered, their work living on, and that godawful  cliche I despise because idiotic people have said it to me so many times:  "you'll be famous when your're dead"......etc.   But I know well that there are so very many whose  work dies with them.  I know it only too well.  

One thread of the Ondine (Undine) legend is that in order to gain a human soul,  Ondine (a mermaid  living in the depths of the Danube River) must marry a human and bear a child.  I first heard some of this when I was given the Danish "Little Mermaid" as a child.  (I also couldn't understand why someone who was immortal and at home in the elemental would want a human soul in the first place - being a mermaid seemed so much better.) But according to the legend, mermaids did leave their native element to pursue a human embodiment, usually with a lot of suffering on on their part.  And, like the Selkies*  of Ireland, the sea  always called to them (should a Selkie find her sealskin, the urge to return will become irresistible).

According to Wikipedia, Undines  have beautiful voices, which are sometimes heard within the water.  One of the most famous versions of the German story was Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué's novella Undine, which has also been staged as a ballet many times.



Poster for "Undine", the Royal Ballet (2000)

The Channel: Bloomington

Cold water burns my hands,
I dip and turn the paddle shaft.
A few boats pattern the river ahead,
Where green canopy grays the light.

I am in alone in Undine's pool.
Water is a stranger here,
changing blue, gold, clear.
Drifting leaves under glass:
friendless, they swirl by.

Riffles pour their endless lace;
faces glare from flowing beards,
Mock the poor rival lost
in blackened woods.
The changeling cannot read
the bookish rocks,
heaped and left to moss, or
ciphered fern and witchy branch.

" This way  See? Go there."
Foolish, she is frightened
by roots of upturned trees.
She flees too far, strays lost
into blind woods.

I reach and as I draw the blade,
My boat turns, and I look to see
Where glassy current
Shows the way:
a clear channel
and friends who wait below.

Felicia Miller





**  A wonderful movie about the Irish legend of the Selkies is THE SECRET OF ROAN INISH (1994)