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line 1, column 0: Use of unknown namespace: http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008 [help]
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<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157</id><updated>2024-03-19T10:05:37.031-03:00</updated><category term="Gods Goddess"/><category term="Mythology-Greek"/><category term="Mythology-Aztec"/><category term="Mythology-Celtic"/><category term="Creatures"/><category term="Mythology-Hopi"/><category term="Mythology-Lakota"/><category term="Fairy"/><category term="Mythology-Chinese"/><category term="Mythology-Inuit"/><category term="Mythology-Irish"/><category term="Mythology-Japanes"/><category term="Mythology-Native American"/><category term="Mythology-Sioux"/><category term="Heros"/><category term="Mythology-African"/><category term="Mythology-Chiloe"/><category term="Mythology-Egyptian"/><category term="Mythology-Hindu"/><category term="Mythology-Korean"/><category term="Mythology-Maya"/><category term="Mythology-Roman"/><title type='text'>Myth and Legends</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default?start-index=26&max-results=25'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-2354565453218367738</id><published>2008-09-10T07:59:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T08:23:04.205-03:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Japanes"/><title type='text'>Kappa</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBiZ6TF5LlVFbj5PmxK003Yd63nmT7cXto0R-_Z2h6p-XjgUyp3Yzf-XIE2vJXy3E1sBahWitEhZ1pN9MRhTnZDvUy7wg8Dep8LZ914tLralbNoCOCDt2b8bdBKujMWgi4vB4yTnzSqY/s1600-h/kappa.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBiZ6TF5LlVFbj5PmxK003Yd63nmT7cXto0R-_Z2h6p-XjgUyp3Yzf-XIE2vJXy3E1sBahWitEhZ1pN9MRhTnZDvUy7wg8Dep8LZ914tLralbNoCOCDt2b8bdBKujMWgi4vB4yTnzSqY/s320/kappa.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252886159463775618" border="0" /></a> In Medieval Japan, a breed of humanoid creature called the Kappa was believed at the time to dwell in rivers and swampy areas. It was a type of vampirelike lecherous creature that is more intelligent than the devilish, and less malevolent toward men. They walked erect, though their extremities ended in webbed structures that looked not unlike claws. There hung down from their large mobile ears weird appendages resembling long narrow earrings. Their eyes were triangular and elongated, while on the top of the head there sat what appeared to some observers to be a bald spot, to others a big ball of yarn out of which stuck four lengthy darning needles. Whatever the case may be, legends have grown up around them suggesting that they are dirty; greedy and lazy-very much like some of the "wee folk" of the Celtic legends. They are, however, extremely polite. So here is what you do: you will recognize a Kappa from the bowl-like depression on top of its head filled with water. This is its power source. So you bow to a KAPPA in the approved Japanese fashion, and naturally having to return the courtesy it will bow back and the water tips out. It is then powerless until the water can be replenished. This is not all. They are crazy about cucumbers. They prefer cucumbers to blood. Bribe them with a cucumber and they will promise you almost anything. And once a promise is made they are honor-bound to keep it.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/2354565453218367738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=2354565453218367738' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2354565453218367738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2354565453218367738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2008/09/kappa.html' title='Kappa'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBiZ6TF5LlVFbj5PmxK003Yd63nmT7cXto0R-_Z2h6p-XjgUyp3Yzf-XIE2vJXy3E1sBahWitEhZ1pN9MRhTnZDvUy7wg8Dep8LZ914tLralbNoCOCDt2b8bdBKujMWgi4vB4yTnzSqY/s72-c/kappa.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-1185589277621174379</id><published>2008-05-16T17:02:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T17:33:04.072-03:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Celtic"/><title type='text'>Dagda. God of the Celts</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FZlQL5zEnC5W9dwwOAHl1FnFpxfokWmKxhetWpqVaG3NJwC-XKqyTkrFSCWoGU_s8FtVKXjnHl1MRNhMmo2uAP03ymYQjgVdYFRYyY7dZvuZHLYttonwXEzdKYmcy3JKmlGSoTgsCd0/s1600-h/dagda1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FZlQL5zEnC5W9dwwOAHl1FnFpxfokWmKxhetWpqVaG3NJwC-XKqyTkrFSCWoGU_s8FtVKXjnHl1MRNhMmo2uAP03ymYQjgVdYFRYyY7dZvuZHLYttonwXEzdKYmcy3JKmlGSoTgsCd0/s320/dagda1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243007223780367090" border="0" /></a> The Dagda was the father God of the Celts they called him the Good God because he protected their crops. He was king of the Tuatha Dé Danann and ruled over Uisnech in Co. Meath. He had a cauldron called the Undry which supplied unlimited food and was one of the magical items the Tuatha brought with them when they first landed on Ireland. He also had a living oak harp called Uaithne which caused the seasons to change in their order and also played three types of music, the music of sorrow, the music of joy and the music of dreaming. He was portrayed as wearing a brown low-necked tunic which just reached his hips and a hooded cape that barely covered his shoulders. On his feet were horse-hide boots. Behind him he pulled his eight pronged war club on a wheel, one end of the club killed the living and the other end revived the dead, and when it was dragged behind him it left a track as deep as the boundary ditch between two provinces. <div style="text-align: right;">Originally of Magic &amp; Mythology </div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/1185589277621174379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=1185589277621174379' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/1185589277621174379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/1185589277621174379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2008/05/dagda-god-of-celts.html' title='Dagda. God of the Celts'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FZlQL5zEnC5W9dwwOAHl1FnFpxfokWmKxhetWpqVaG3NJwC-XKqyTkrFSCWoGU_s8FtVKXjnHl1MRNhMmo2uAP03ymYQjgVdYFRYyY7dZvuZHLYttonwXEzdKYmcy3JKmlGSoTgsCd0/s72-c/dagda1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-3063436509895991080</id><published>2008-04-03T16:37:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T16:56:18.947-03:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Aztec"/><title type='text'>Legend of Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQb2FhFmp5bkILGXfUqD5fvdIrdu8migrXpjpS6YS35XOtiLD0Sfq8XBj5pu4bnq53WoVVkg0iVKzvnc5ozh7BFzjeYaK5NKOCKSEPzFPgPX3BsHZzeGX1-DNN9uN75tar9ahDZKuqPE/s1600-h/Iztaccihuatl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQb2FhFmp5bkILGXfUqD5fvdIrdu8migrXpjpS6YS35XOtiLD0Sfq8XBj5pu4bnq53WoVVkg0iVKzvnc5ozh7BFzjeYaK5NKOCKSEPzFPgPX3BsHZzeGX1-DNN9uN75tar9ahDZKuqPE/s320/Iztaccihuatl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242998287710728162" border="0" /></a> The legend tells so long time ago, when the Aztecs arrived to the Anahuac valley and mountains don’t have a defined form, there was born in the Great City Tenochtitlán a beautiful princess named Mixtli, only daughter of Tizoc, the "Tlatoani" (Great Lord) of the Mexicas. Many men wanted to married her and like them there was Axooxco, a bloody cruel lord who claims her; but the love of the princess belongs to a young poor warrior named Popoca. To gain the right to dispute the hand of the princess against Axooxco, Popoca goes on war campaign to win the highest title for an Aztec warrior: the "Eagle knight", this was a distinguished military class reserved only to the most noble and brave warriors of the empire. But many days and months pass without news and Mixtli died of sadness thinking her true love died on the battlefield, without the knowledge Popoca finally returned victorious. He took the body of her princess and goes to the mountain thinking she was only sleeping and maybe the snow could awakes her; he made a bonfire and he stayed aside on her feet waiting the moment to be rejoined again and this time forever. An eternal wait… But the story no ends here… Even if their bodies are gone, today you can still see them, if someday you visit the cities of México and Puebla State, watch the horizon and you can see two beautiful volcanoes one near each the other: The "Iztaccíhuatl" (sleeping woman) and the "Popocatépetl" (Smoking Mountain). Many centuries have past since then and the lovers stay there together… and forever.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/3063436509895991080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=3063436509895991080' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/3063436509895991080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/3063436509895991080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2008/04/iztacchuatl-y-popocatpetl.html' title='Legend of Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQb2FhFmp5bkILGXfUqD5fvdIrdu8migrXpjpS6YS35XOtiLD0Sfq8XBj5pu4bnq53WoVVkg0iVKzvnc5ozh7BFzjeYaK5NKOCKSEPzFPgPX3BsHZzeGX1-DNN9uN75tar9ahDZKuqPE/s72-c/Iztaccihuatl.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-1100460445455512474</id><published>2008-03-08T13:03:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:36.157-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Lakota"/><title type='text'>The Toad And The Boy</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmQDq2HnO74JpdhmsS4MFlkTJrYn8f2SkGZNK5YMzb0uHY8ynsE4y7Ox-iCRV-bkv0NESunsWwzzSTNHRCn-DdyHwXhAt6O_C2fz0THXijvWtIiQ8gKEmYzNIBXlLUYncx8_rjy66POc/s1600-h/stortell.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmQDq2HnO74JpdhmsS4MFlkTJrYn8f2SkGZNK5YMzb0uHY8ynsE4y7Ox-iCRV-bkv0NESunsWwzzSTNHRCn-DdyHwXhAt6O_C2fz0THXijvWtIiQ8gKEmYzNIBXlLUYncx8_rjy66POc/s320/stortell.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111960417799041458" border="0" /></a> The water-fowls were flying over the marshy lakes. It was now the hunting season. Indian men, with bows and arrows, were wading waist deep amid the wild rice. Near by, within their wigwams, the wives were roasting wild duck and making down pillows. In the largest tipi sat a young mother wrapping red porcupine quills about the long fringes of a buckskin cushion. Beside her lay a black-eyed baby boy cooing and laughing. Reaching and kicking upward with his tiny hands and feet, he played with the dangling strings of his heavy- beaded bonnet hanging empty on a tent pole above him. At length the mother laid aside her red quills and white sinew-threads. The babe fell fast asleep. Leaning on one hand and softly whispering a little lullaby, she threw a light cover over her baby. It was almost time for the return of her husband. Remembering there were no willow sticks for the fire, she quickly girdled her blanket tight about her waist, and with a short-handled ax slipped through her belt, she hurried away toward the wooded ravine. She was strong and swung an ax as skillfully as any man. Her loose buckskin dress was made for such freedom. Soon carrying easily a bundle of long willows on her back, with a loop of rope over both her shoulders, she came striding homeward. Near the entrance way she stooped low, at once shifting the bundle to the right and with both hands lifting the noose from over her head. Having thus dropped the wood to the ground, she disappeared into her tipi. In a moment she came running out again, crying, "My son! My little son is gone!" Her keen eyes swept east and west and all around her. There was nowhere any sign of the child. Running with clinched fists to the nearest tipi's, she called: "Has any one seen my baby? He is gone! My little son is gone!" "Hinnu! Hinnu!" exclaimed the women, rising to their feet and rushing out of their wigwams. "We have not seen your child! What has happened?" queried the women. With great tears in her eyes the mother told her story. "We will search with you," they said to her as she started off. They met the returning husbands, who turned about and joined in the hunt for the missing child. Along the shore of the lakes, among the high-grown reeds, they looked in vain. He was nowhere to be found. After many days and nights the search was given up. It was sad, indeed, to hear the mother wailing aloud for her little son. It was growing late in the autumn. The birds were flying high toward the south. The tipi's around the lakes were gone, save one lonely dwelling. Till the winter snow covered the ground and ice covered the lakes, the wailing woman's voice was heard from that solitary wigwam. From some far distance was also the sound of the father's voice singing a sad song. Thus ten summers and as many winters have come and gone since the strange disappearance of the little child. Every autumn with the hunters came the unhappy parents of the lost baby to search again for him. Toward the latter part of the tenth season when, one by one, the tipi's were folded and the families went away from the lake region, the mother walked again along the lake shore weeping. One evening, across the lake from where the crying woman stood, a pair of bright black eyes peered at her through the tall reeds and wild rice. A little wild boy stopped his play among the tall grasses. His long, loose hair hanging down his brown back and shoulders was carelessly tossed from his round face. He wore a loin cloth of woven sweet grass. Crouching low to the marshy ground, he listened to the wailing voice. As the voice grew hoarse and only sobs shook the slender figure of the woman, the eyes of the wild boy grew dim and wet. At length, when the moaning ceased, he sprang to his feet and ran like a nymph with swift outstretched toes. He rushed into a small hut of reeds and grasses. "Mother! Mother! Tell me what voice it was I heard which pleased my ears, but made my eyes grow wet!" said he, breathless. "Han, my son," grunted a big, ugly toad. "It was the voice of a weeping woman you heard. My son, do not say you like it. Do not tell me it brought tears to your eyes. You have never heard me weep. I can please your ear and break your heart. Listen!" replied the great old toad. Stepping outside, she stood by the entrance way. She was old and badly puffed out. She had reared a large family of little toads, but none of them had aroused her love, nor ever grieved her. She had heard the wailing human voice and marveled at the throat which produced the strange sound. Now, in her great desire to keep the stolen boy awhile longer, she ventured to cry as the Lakota woman does. In a gruff, coarse voice she broke forth: "Hin- hin, doe-skin! Hin-hin, Ermine, Ermine! Hin-hin, red blanket, with white border!" Not knowing that the syllables of a Lakota's cry are the names of loved ones gone, the ugly toad mother sought to please the boy's ear with the names of valuable articles. Having shrieked in a torturing voice and mouthed extravagant names, the old toad rolled her tearless eyes with great satisfaction. Hopping back into her dwelling, she asked: "My son, did my voice bring tears to your eyes? Did my words bring gladness to your ears? Do you not like my wailing better?" "No, no!" pouted the boy with some impatience. "I want to hear the woman's voice! Tell me, mother, why the human voice stirs all my feelings!" The toad mother said within her breast, "The human child has heard and seen his real mother. I cannot keep him longer, I fear. Oh, no, I cannot give away the pretty creature I have taught to call me 'mother' all these many winters." "Mother," went on the child voice, "tell me one thing. Tell me why my little brothers and sisters are all unlike me." The big, ugly toad, looking at her pudgy children, said: "The eldest is always best." This reply quieted the boy for a while. Very closely watched the old toad mother her stolen human son. When by chance he started off alone, she shoved out one of her own children after him, saying: "Do not come back without your big brother." Thus the wild boy with the long, loose hair sits every day on a marshy island hid among the tall reeds. But he is not alone. Always at his feet hops a little toad brother. One day an Indian hunter, wading in the deep waters, spied the boy. He had heard of the baby stolen long ago. "This is he!" murmured the hunter to himself as he ran to his wigwam. "I saw among the tall reeds a black-haired boy at play!" shouted he to the people. At once the unhappy father and mother cried out, "'Tis he, our boy!" Quickly he led them to the lake. Peeping through the wild rice, he pointed with unsteady finger toward the boy playing all unawares. "'Tis he! 'tis he!" cried the mother, for she knew him. In silence the hunter stood aside, while the happy father and mother caressed their baby boy grown tall.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/1100460445455512474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=1100460445455512474' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/1100460445455512474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/1100460445455512474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/toad-and-boy.html' title='The Toad And The Boy'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmQDq2HnO74JpdhmsS4MFlkTJrYn8f2SkGZNK5YMzb0uHY8ynsE4y7Ox-iCRV-bkv0NESunsWwzzSTNHRCn-DdyHwXhAt6O_C2fz0THXijvWtIiQ8gKEmYzNIBXlLUYncx8_rjy66POc/s72-c/stortell.gif" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-8576303768042495894</id><published>2008-02-19T17:26:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T15:20:12.046-03:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Egyptian"/><title type='text'>Nut, Sky Goddess, Mother of the Gods...</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3ul2EnrENuYEj89YylHJ3U41kHoZT_lVUe97uMnv8dVbuImzOVKMdjvCfu36BOO7Bjh2GEJ1vY8TU3jK4MLDHGd7K1WJTFpBoLiRahgY8Yv98yB_mRLdpWxYy5cREypSJjVTIAIeX1w/s1600-h/NutGoddess.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3ul2EnrENuYEj89YylHJ3U41kHoZT_lVUe97uMnv8dVbuImzOVKMdjvCfu36BOO7Bjh2GEJ1vY8TU3jK4MLDHGd7K1WJTFpBoLiRahgY8Yv98yB_mRLdpWxYy5cREypSJjVTIAIeX1w/s320/NutGoddess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242972531006867538" border="0" /></a> She was the personification of the sky. Often depicted as a woman arched over the earth god Geb She was believed to be the daughter of the gods Shu and Tefnut, the granddaughter of the sun god Ra. Her husband was also her brother, Geb. She was thought to be the mother of four gods; Osiris, Isis, and Nephthys the last born on the fifth day. The days on which these deities were born were known as the "five epagomenal days of the year", and they were celebrated all over Egypt.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/8576303768042495894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=8576303768042495894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8576303768042495894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8576303768042495894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/02/nut-sky-goddess-mother-of-gods.html' title='Nut, Sky Goddess, Mother of the Gods...'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3ul2EnrENuYEj89YylHJ3U41kHoZT_lVUe97uMnv8dVbuImzOVKMdjvCfu36BOO7Bjh2GEJ1vY8TU3jK4MLDHGd7K1WJTFpBoLiRahgY8Yv98yB_mRLdpWxYy5cREypSJjVTIAIeX1w/s72-c/NutGoddess.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-2513152946806134078</id><published>2008-01-06T14:25:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T14:59:06.476-03:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Greek"/><title type='text'>Legend of Icarus</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_gLMtAnhARNrvIL2eepYHnLErqYzKZ2qySE-GssuI8ry_gkB069Z70u_-9qEX3Nb-fs3dnivm88hP-NRhmZ4Q8ZvWnY4T4wsaQqGibbVtnvF_6juSsQRd6-il9MTiJRw2I3Gh3xMFuo/s1600-h/icarus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_gLMtAnhARNrvIL2eepYHnLErqYzKZ2qySE-GssuI8ry_gkB069Z70u_-9qEX3Nb-fs3dnivm88hP-NRhmZ4Q8ZvWnY4T4wsaQqGibbVtnvF_6juSsQRd6-il9MTiJRw2I3Gh3xMFuo/s320/icarus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242968856156341010" border="0" /></a> In order to escape the Labyrinth, Deadalus made a set of wings for his son and himself. The wings were forged out of wax and feathers. With the wings, the father and son were able to fly out of the Labyrinth to freedom. Before alighting, Deadalus gave his son a serious warning. He told him not to fly too close to the sun. If he were to do so, Deadalus explained, the wax that held his wings together would melt, rendering them useless, and Icarus would fall from the sky to his death. Icarus, however, was overcome by the incredible feeling of flight. He was so taken by the experience, the he flew higher and higher. He flew so high that he became perilously close to the sun. Just as his father warned him would happen, the wax within his wings was rendered into a useless liquid. The wings fell to pieces and Icarus descended from the sky. The water into which Icarus is said to have fallen is near Icaria, a Grecian Island in the Aegean Sea. The island is named for the legendary flying man. Icaria is southwest of the island of Samos.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/2513152946806134078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=2513152946806134078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2513152946806134078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2513152946806134078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2008/01/legend-of-icarus.html' title='Legend of Icarus'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv_gLMtAnhARNrvIL2eepYHnLErqYzKZ2qySE-GssuI8ry_gkB069Z70u_-9qEX3Nb-fs3dnivm88hP-NRhmZ4Q8ZvWnY4T4wsaQqGibbVtnvF_6juSsQRd6-il9MTiJRw2I3Gh3xMFuo/s72-c/icarus.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-2040366642912520120</id><published>2007-12-11T11:50:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T14:18:17.268-03:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Celtic"/><title type='text'>Rhiannon</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1lo0-t11RNPP8e2FUKGEVLYRUVX45BaLUO3mlBBqULaDuBlbfLDuhonU6KeY6dECnHAarghnY3e2nhCicJLk3ssh6e_fvD-WC_xxFk_pu9PLRtwQz6i8TYkwZlItDz9pNwlozj5MUy_Y/s1600-h/rhiannon_Horse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1lo0-t11RNPP8e2FUKGEVLYRUVX45BaLUO3mlBBqULaDuBlbfLDuhonU6KeY6dECnHAarghnY3e2nhCicJLk3ssh6e_fvD-WC_xxFk_pu9PLRtwQz6i8TYkwZlItDz9pNwlozj5MUy_Y/s320/rhiannon_Horse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242958651702544274" border="0" /></a> Rhiannon is an old Welsh Goddess of the earth and fertility, of horses and birds, who has links to the Underworld and who is much featured in the Mabinogion. Rhiannon's first husband was Pwyll, who had once done a stint as King of the Underworld. Their son Pryderi vanished the night of his birth while the new mother and the women sent to guard them slept. When they woke to find the cradle empty, they were fearful they would be punished severely for their carelessness. They devised a plan to cast the blame on the goddess Rhiannon, who was, after all, an outsider, not really one of their own people. Killing a puppy, they smeared its blood on the sleeping Rhiannon and scattered its bones around her bed. Sounding the alarm, they accused the goddess of eating her own child. Later, after Pwyll's death, Rhiannon married Manawydan, brother of Bran and Branwen and son of Llyr, a great magician. One day, all of Dyfed turned into a wasteland, and only Rhiannon, Manawydan, Pryderi, and his wife Cigfa, were spared. Manawydan and Pryderi out hunting followed an enormous white boar into a caer, where Pryderi saw a golden bowl; when he touched it, he was enspelled. Rhiannon went after him and fell under the same spell the caer then vanished, taking them with it. She was rescued when Manawydan captured the wife of their enemy, Llwyd, who was taking revenge for the illtreatment of Gwawl.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/2040366642912520120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=2040366642912520120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2040366642912520120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2040366642912520120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/12/rhiannon.html' title='Rhiannon'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1lo0-t11RNPP8e2FUKGEVLYRUVX45BaLUO3mlBBqULaDuBlbfLDuhonU6KeY6dECnHAarghnY3e2nhCicJLk3ssh6e_fvD-WC_xxFk_pu9PLRtwQz6i8TYkwZlItDz9pNwlozj5MUy_Y/s72-c/rhiannon_Horse.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-1396151619606909602</id><published>2007-11-29T13:58:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:36.551-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Lakota"/><title type='text'>Origin of the Lakota Peace Pipe</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5ftX_K99s2Oyy0SVrcO4IMWy2EfurmgVfApIsSRYzW7UEkhUyfShL0Uqgx_JDkLk8RGP3-v4XOh-Y8ece_noeVbdqwnq62bF_9J1X2JMM_2bwIBCc6_j1Y_DEKLIWvt3RZnLthZQuow/s1600-h/SmokingPeacePipe.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5ftX_K99s2Oyy0SVrcO4IMWy2EfurmgVfApIsSRYzW7UEkhUyfShL0Uqgx_JDkLk8RGP3-v4XOh-Y8ece_noeVbdqwnq62bF_9J1X2JMM_2bwIBCc6_j1Y_DEKLIWvt3RZnLthZQuow/s320/SmokingPeacePipe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111967457250439618" border="0" /></a> Long, long ago, two young and handsome Lakota were chosen by their band to find out where the buffalo were. While the men were riding in the buffalo country, they saw someone in the distance walking toward them. As always they were on the watch for any enemy. So they hid in some bushes and waited. At last the figure came up the slope. To their surprise, the figure walking toward them was a woman. When she came closer, she stopped and looked at them. They knew that she could see them, even in their hiding place. On her left arm she carried what looked like a stick in a bundle of sagebrush. Her face was beautiful. One of the men said, "She is more beautiful than anyone I have ever seen. I want her for my wife." But the other man replied, "How dare you have such a thought? She is wondrously beautiful and holy--far above ordinary people." Though still at a distance, the woman heard them talking. She laid down her bundle and spoke to them. "Come. What is it you wish?" The man who had spoken first went up to her and laid his hands on her as if to claim her. At once, from somewhere above, there came a whirlwind. Then there came a mist, which hid the man and the woman. When the mist cleared, the other man saw the woman with the bundle again on her arm. But his friend was a pile of bones at her feet. The man stood silent in wonder and awe. Then the beautiful woman spoke to him. "I am on a journey to your people. Among them is a good man whose name is Bull Walking Upright. I am coming to see him especially. "Go on ahead of me and tell your people that I am on my way. Ask them to move camp and to pitch their tents in a circle. Ask them to leave an opening in the circle, facing the north. In the centre of the circle, make a large tepee, also facing the north. There I will meet Bull Walking Upright and his people." The man saw to it that all her directions were followed. When she reached the camp, she removed the sagebrush from the gift she was carrying. The gift was a small pipe made of red stone. On it was carved the tiny outline of a buffalo calf. The pipe she gave to Bull Walking Upright, and then she taught him the prayers he should pray to the Strong One Above. "When you pray to the Strong One Above, you must use this pipe in the ceremony. When you are hungry, unwrap the pipe and lay it bare in the air. Then the buffalo will come where the men can easily hunt and kill them. So the children, the men, and the women will have food and be happy." The beautiful woman also told him how the people should behave in order to live peacefully together. She taught them the prayers they should say when praying to their Mother Earth. She told him how they should decorate themselves for ceremonies. "The earth," she said, "is your mother. So, for special ceremonies, you will decorate yourselves as your mother does--in black and red, in brown and white. These are the colours of the buffalo also. "Above all else, remember that this is a peace pipe that I have given you. You will smoke it before all ceremonies. You will smoke it before making treaties. It will bring peaceful thoughts into your minds. If you will use it when you pray to the Strong One above and to Mother Earth you will be sure to receive the blessings that you ask." When the woman had completed her message, she turned and slowly walked away. All the people watched her in awe. Outside the opening of the circle, she stopped for an instant and then lay down on the ground. She rose again in the form of a black buffalo cow. Again she lay down and then arose in the form of a red buffalo cow. A third time she lay down, and arose as a brown buffalo cow. The fourth and last time she had the form of a spotlessly white buffalo cow. Then she walked toward the north into the distance and finally disappeared over a far-off hill. Bull Walking Upright kept the peace pipe carefully wrapped most of the time. Every little while he called all his people together, untied the bundle, and repeated the lessons he had been taught by the beautiful woman. And he used it in prayers and other ceremonies until he was more than one hundred years old. When he became feeble, he held a great feast. There he gave the pipe and the lessons to Sunrise, a worthy man. In a similar way the pipe was passed down from generation to generation. "As long as the pipe is used," the beautiful woman had said, "Your people will live and will be happy. As soon as it is forgotten, the people will perish."</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/1396151619606909602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=1396151619606909602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/1396151619606909602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/1396151619606909602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/11/origin-of-lakota-peace-pipe.html' title='Origin of the Lakota Peace Pipe'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5ftX_K99s2Oyy0SVrcO4IMWy2EfurmgVfApIsSRYzW7UEkhUyfShL0Uqgx_JDkLk8RGP3-v4XOh-Y8ece_noeVbdqwnq62bF_9J1X2JMM_2bwIBCc6_j1Y_DEKLIWvt3RZnLthZQuow/s72-c/SmokingPeacePipe.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-7212546912748557356</id><published>2007-10-27T21:43:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:36.698-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Greek"/><title type='text'>Zeus</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuYigbF-gVDtSgWnvJyzGddyTf-TnaonUQKpOjfUiiM8jM4YLmZpzZrfJSUgLIEZcmNT2nLj8rurIwlecS-vQjRejvfJZfQ_PBY4pmHukZ0p5jCazuK-dwMKVQyJJzGFXwfH49fqHj4A/s1600-h/image.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuYigbF-gVDtSgWnvJyzGddyTf-TnaonUQKpOjfUiiM8jM4YLmZpzZrfJSUgLIEZcmNT2nLj8rurIwlecS-vQjRejvfJZfQ_PBY4pmHukZ0p5jCazuK-dwMKVQyJJzGFXwfH49fqHj4A/s320/image.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126178687831159634" border="0" /></a> Zeus was the supreme god, the master of all gods and men. Zeus was the god of light, of the sky and of atmospheric phenomena: winds, clouds, rain, thunder. But Zeus not only presided over celestial manifestations causing rain, thunder and lightning. Above all he maintained order and justice in the world. To mortals he dispensed good and evil from the jars that were placed at the gate of his palace. Zeus was the youngest son of the Titans Cronus and Rhea (Cybele). When he was born, his father Cronus intended to swallow him as he had all of Zeus's siblings: Poseidon, Hades, Hestia, Demeter and Hera. But Rhea hid the newborn in a cave on Mount Dicte in Crete. When he had grown up, Zeus caused Cronus to vomit up his sisters and brothers, and these gods joined him in fighting to wrest control of the universe from the Titans and Cronus, their king. Having vanquished his father and the other Titans, Zeus imprisoned most of them in the underworld of Tartarus. Then he and his brothers Poseidon and Hades divided up creation. Poseidon received the sea as his domain, Hades got the Underworld and Zeus took the sky. Zeus also was accorded supreme authority on earth and on Mount Olympus. </content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/7212546912748557356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=7212546912748557356' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/7212546912748557356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/7212546912748557356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/10/zeus.html' title='Zeus'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuYigbF-gVDtSgWnvJyzGddyTf-TnaonUQKpOjfUiiM8jM4YLmZpzZrfJSUgLIEZcmNT2nLj8rurIwlecS-vQjRejvfJZfQ_PBY4pmHukZ0p5jCazuK-dwMKVQyJJzGFXwfH49fqHj4A/s72-c/image.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-247825135848298663</id><published>2007-10-27T20:07:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:36.861-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Korean"/><title type='text'>The Legend of King Onjo of Paekche</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAj3ZF4UtzCtDxac02QOgVU4S107btZI8g6JQSEZdeCxoVzF08y-2mdxkVGeCWXfSev-1ecEZLhKw4ZLcDz3_8A4K83Kh3DJw2MATZ1RxCZEAbRtMddD2424T56PE2olTaHhw5ut2gfTw/s1600-h/6871-2-6644.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAj3ZF4UtzCtDxac02QOgVU4S107btZI8g6JQSEZdeCxoVzF08y-2mdxkVGeCWXfSev-1ecEZLhKw4ZLcDz3_8A4K83Kh3DJw2MATZ1RxCZEAbRtMddD2424T56PE2olTaHhw5ut2gfTw/s320/6871-2-6644.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115592906800659202" border="0" /></a> The father of King Onjo, founder of Paekche, was Chumong. He fled from North Puyô to escape troubles and went to Cholbon Puyô, whose king had no son but had three daughters. Knowing that Chumong was extraordinary, the king presented his second daughter to him in marriage. Shortly thereafter, the king died and was succeeded by Chumong. Chumong had two sons, Piryu and Onjo. When Yuri, a son of Chumong, born in North Puyô, came to Cholbon Puyô and became heir to the throne, Piryu and Onjo were afraid of being rejected by their half brother and travelled south with ten counselors, including Ogan and Maryô. Many followed them. Upon reaching Hansan, they climbed Pua Peak (Mount Samgak) to find a place to settle. When Piryu wished to settle by the sea, the counselors advised him: "The land south of the Han borders the Han River to the north, takes to a high mountain to the east, views a fertile marsh to the south, and is separated by a great sea to the west. Its natural fastness is unparalleled, a place fit for your capital." But Piryu did not listen. He divided the people and went to Mich'uhol to settle. Onjo set up his capital at Hanam Wiryesông, made ten counselors his assistants, and named his country Sipche. This was in the third year of Hung-chia of Emperor Cheng of the Former Han [18 BC]. Because the land of Mich'uhol was wet and its water salty, Piryu could not live in comfort; when he returned and saw Wirye firmly established and its people happy, he died of shame and remorse. His followers pledged allegiance to Wirye and joyfully came to submit, hence the country was named Paekche. Like Koguryô, the ruling family of Paekche stems from Puyô, which they adopted as their clan name.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/247825135848298663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=247825135848298663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/247825135848298663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/247825135848298663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/10/legend-of-king-onjo-of-paekche.html' title='The Legend of King Onjo of Paekche'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAj3ZF4UtzCtDxac02QOgVU4S107btZI8g6JQSEZdeCxoVzF08y-2mdxkVGeCWXfSev-1ecEZLhKw4ZLcDz3_8A4K83Kh3DJw2MATZ1RxCZEAbRtMddD2424T56PE2olTaHhw5ut2gfTw/s72-c/6871-2-6644.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-8352904710914393804</id><published>2007-10-27T10:33:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:36.968-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Aztec"/><title type='text'>Chicomecoatl</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBc6hZk9ZGwjTPJBKIvvKsqENZ6sDNeotfeMb_VXxrWvJxYv65yZwChFPXacvs0rz0bu0VdVTjjJtN9K4Iy0QozoWt-SojX-7X4pNjGrIf68cW1IgvJdFQ-PbaroKL6W0eKQ9Om2YUcBI/s1600-h/Chicomecoatl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBc6hZk9ZGwjTPJBKIvvKsqENZ6sDNeotfeMb_VXxrWvJxYv65yZwChFPXacvs0rz0bu0VdVTjjJtN9K4Iy0QozoWt-SojX-7X4pNjGrIf68cW1IgvJdFQ-PbaroKL6W0eKQ9Om2YUcBI/s320/Chicomecoatl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111365450743033858" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: justify;">Aztec goddess of sustenance and, hence, of maize a goddess of plenty and the female aspect of corn. Chicomecoatl means Seven-Serpent, an esoteric name for maize; she was also called Chicomolotzin (Seven Ears of Maize). A very ancient goddess of Nahua-speaking peoples, she was one of several maize deities, of whom Centeotl (the god of the maize plant) and Xilonen (goddess of the young corn) were especially important. Every September a young girl representing Chicomecoatl was sacrificed. The priests decapitated the girl, collected her blood and poured it over a figurine of the goddess. The corpse was then flayed and the skin was worn by a priest. She comes in various appearances: a girl with waterflowers, a woman whose embrace means certain death, and as mother who carries the sun with her as a shield. She is regarded as the female counterpart of the maize god Cinteotl, their symbol being an ear of corn. She is occasionally called Xilonen. </div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/8352904710914393804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=8352904710914393804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8352904710914393804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8352904710914393804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/10/chicomecoatl.html' title='Chicomecoatl'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBc6hZk9ZGwjTPJBKIvvKsqENZ6sDNeotfeMb_VXxrWvJxYv65yZwChFPXacvs0rz0bu0VdVTjjJtN9K4Iy0QozoWt-SojX-7X4pNjGrIf68cW1IgvJdFQ-PbaroKL6W0eKQ9Om2YUcBI/s72-c/Chicomecoatl.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-975701011534558425</id><published>2007-10-03T16:14:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:37.073-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Hindu"/><title type='text'>Durga</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVY9QT32XI7c23KqWts313P6iJlHhMmLXSqV4rqT50LFRQmzZj3VtCL7_fqsWVGL2w2VXN0WqOCJQiehC6azQ5b_ofNsX7IGYWJpEwkaKVAV8bNmFtq2ZeY25-L2escR1uIdCuJCBw0uU/s1600-h/durga.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVY9QT32XI7c23KqWts313P6iJlHhMmLXSqV4rqT50LFRQmzZj3VtCL7_fqsWVGL2w2VXN0WqOCJQiehC6azQ5b_ofNsX7IGYWJpEwkaKVAV8bNmFtq2ZeY25-L2escR1uIdCuJCBw0uU/s320/durga.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117198399935642802" border="0" /></a> Symbol of Cosmic Harmony. Durga is depicted as a warrior woman riding a lion or a tiger with multiple hands carrying weapons and assuming mudras, or symbolic hand gestures. This form of the Goddess is the embodiment of feminine and creative energy (Shakti). The warrior goddess, riding upon a lion and wielding a weapon in each of her 10 arms, corresponds with Inanna . Also known as Parvati or Lalitha is the wife (consort) of Lord Shiva and exists in various divine (both friendly and fearful) forms. She is depicted calm-faced and smiling as she defeats the buffalo demon. The latter symbolizes that egoistic force of maya (the everyday world) which deludes individuals and keeps them from knowing their innate nature as god. Durga, the fierce and creative shakti aspect of Godhead.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/975701011534558425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=975701011534558425' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/975701011534558425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/975701011534558425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/10/durga.html' title='Durga'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVY9QT32XI7c23KqWts313P6iJlHhMmLXSqV4rqT50LFRQmzZj3VtCL7_fqsWVGL2w2VXN0WqOCJQiehC6azQ5b_ofNsX7IGYWJpEwkaKVAV8bNmFtq2ZeY25-L2escR1uIdCuJCBw0uU/s72-c/durga.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-8782324453649328991</id><published>2007-10-03T15:38:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:37.229-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Roman"/><title type='text'>Cybele - Rhea</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kWI6zkvdiTjyqaJD6qhZDWNaC_66hryx8L7IkkLbb2_HzgxppJ7OR1zMjnWN70VZ4aQ0vltevwMq8zlkhkFKC87en1656lfCUcxm4OrDFm5bYYGwHZA0ZwRxb0DKg-ytKgwKt-jkte0/s1600-h/cybele.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kWI6zkvdiTjyqaJD6qhZDWNaC_66hryx8L7IkkLbb2_HzgxppJ7OR1zMjnWN70VZ4aQ0vltevwMq8zlkhkFKC87en1656lfCUcxm4OrDFm5bYYGwHZA0ZwRxb0DKg-ytKgwKt-jkte0/s320/cybele.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117188242337987746" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: justify;">Mother Earth. Cybele personifies the earth in its primitive and savage state. From Pre-classic Greece to early Christian times she represented Gaia, the deified earth, and inherited many attributes of the ancient Sumerian goddess Inanna . As Rhea (Earth), Cybele was wife to her brother Chronos (Sky), and from him gave birth to Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus, hence her Roman title of Magna Mater or "Great Mother". In this depiction Cybele's queenship as Magna Mater of Rome is symbolized by her throne and lions. She holds the frame drum; her bowl of prophecy and staring gaze proclaim her power. The blazing torch symbolizes her bull-consort Attis in resurrection. Saint Peter's Cathedral stands upon the site of Cybele's temple in Rome. The Sybils at Cumae were her priestess-oracles. <div style="text-align: center;">Prayer to Cybele Great Goddess of women, protectress from one's enemies, healer of grave illness, guardian of the dead, and mistress of prophecy and the future. Aid me in my quest of spiritual fulfillment, and like Attis (who was your son and was resurrected as your daughter), transform me as adopted daughter and gallae to fulfill myself as I know myself to be -- whole and woman. Grant me safe passage in my physical transition, as directed from within or without. Grant me leave to discern and discover the future, for myself and for others in constructive ways. </div> </div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/8782324453649328991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=8782324453649328991' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8782324453649328991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8782324453649328991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/10/cybele-rhea.html' title='Cybele - Rhea'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kWI6zkvdiTjyqaJD6qhZDWNaC_66hryx8L7IkkLbb2_HzgxppJ7OR1zMjnWN70VZ4aQ0vltevwMq8zlkhkFKC87en1656lfCUcxm4OrDFm5bYYGwHZA0ZwRxb0DKg-ytKgwKt-jkte0/s72-c/cybele.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-7505857076919300420</id><published>2007-10-03T13:02:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:37.351-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Greek"/><title type='text'>Legend of Olive Tree</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOUlkV2YPqWUcghRqmWCVi2aWSxFTPXn9t46RpyIZTZjvg2mU-S6mBxuY72eC4Y-6keNhhUnAxOaGxXx27w6vNbtvcfxrkYeyEtUj5p2P2vWigNbmsF9pfvLUP-rjm7oitK8Hthv3haQ/s1600-h/olivo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOUlkV2YPqWUcghRqmWCVi2aWSxFTPXn9t46RpyIZTZjvg2mU-S6mBxuY72eC4Y-6keNhhUnAxOaGxXx27w6vNbtvcfxrkYeyEtUj5p2P2vWigNbmsF9pfvLUP-rjm7oitK8Hthv3haQ/s320/olivo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117149737956179090" border="0" /></a> The Greek legend tells how Pailas Atenea, goddess of wisdom, caused the olive tree to appear in the Acropolis with a blow of her lance. The Hellenes told the fable of the minor dispute that had broken out on Olympus between Neptune and Minerva, in order to decide who would reign in Attica. Jupiter proposed that the kingdom should be granted to whoever presented the most useful gift for Humanity. Neptune presented a horse as swift as the wind, while Minerva brought a small olive branch, affirming that in the future it would become a strong tree, capable of living for centuries and whose fruits would be good to eat and from them an extraordinary liquid would be able to be extracted for the nourishment of man, soothe his wounds, give strength to his body and light for his nights, since he would know how to keep a small flame lit for hours. Fired with enthusiasm, Jupiter decided that Attica would be for Minerva and that its capital would be known as Athens.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/7505857076919300420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=7505857076919300420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/7505857076919300420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/7505857076919300420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/10/greek-legend-tells-how-pailas-atenea.html' title='Legend of Olive Tree'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOUlkV2YPqWUcghRqmWCVi2aWSxFTPXn9t46RpyIZTZjvg2mU-S6mBxuY72eC4Y-6keNhhUnAxOaGxXx27w6vNbtvcfxrkYeyEtUj5p2P2vWigNbmsF9pfvLUP-rjm7oitK8Hthv3haQ/s72-c/olivo.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-6424669251153579915</id><published>2007-09-26T09:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:37.741-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Aztec"/><title type='text'>Huitzilopochtli</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgc5GDSABdkSuV-mPUGG33E5otaJprapTkLZknt3iXb8c1CNC6Vx6G_S9Ghptg1ymQbs3DRn04E69ZJARVEVNr3fuKbpz1AOv-Ob9Am3F99EUaafUbhj8AzY5H-gtQEMYfWuw7YK5sy0/s1600-h/huitzilopochtli.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgc5GDSABdkSuV-mPUGG33E5otaJprapTkLZknt3iXb8c1CNC6Vx6G_S9Ghptg1ymQbs3DRn04E69ZJARVEVNr3fuKbpz1AOv-Ob9Am3F99EUaafUbhj8AzY5H-gtQEMYfWuw7YK5sy0/s320/huitzilopochtli.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114720981194930498" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: justify;">God of war, son of Coatlicue. Principal god of the Aztecs. When Coatlicue became pregnant with Huitzilopochtli, her daughter Coyolxauhqui incited her brothers, the Centzon Huitznahua (the Four Hundred Stars) to destroy Coatlicue, because her pregnancy brought disgrace on the family. Still in the womb, Huitzilopochtli swore to defend his mother and immediately on being born put on battle armor and war paint. After defeating the Four Hundred Stars, Huitzilopochtli slew his sister and cast her down the hill at Templo Mayor where her body broke to pieces on striking the bottom. Priests at Templo Mayor killed prisoners in the same way, these sacrifices being replicas of mythical events designed to keep the daily battle between day and night and the birth of the God of War ever in the minds of the people. Often considered synonymous with Quetzalcoatl. </div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/6424669251153579915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=6424669251153579915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/6424669251153579915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/6424669251153579915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/huitzilopochtli.html' title='Huitzilopochtli'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgc5GDSABdkSuV-mPUGG33E5otaJprapTkLZknt3iXb8c1CNC6Vx6G_S9Ghptg1ymQbs3DRn04E69ZJARVEVNr3fuKbpz1AOv-Ob9Am3F99EUaafUbhj8AzY5H-gtQEMYfWuw7YK5sy0/s72-c/huitzilopochtli.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-6744450547250975702</id><published>2007-09-22T18:52:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:37.826-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-African"/><title type='text'>Mawu</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcDErbF-p1tZCzbvuo-nyGZwcgOLsJw8utyGlvjZQoSIDHYRp7w_TBNxVy8JD0U5G1Gs6vItap-L2_U5IJXs48z9q03nV96z8oiHEwKH9UVCzUfz0jPYRbCgmJYqOnUZFK-QLweR7CiM/s1600-h/mawubig.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcDErbF-p1tZCzbvuo-nyGZwcgOLsJw8utyGlvjZQoSIDHYRp7w_TBNxVy8JD0U5G1Gs6vItap-L2_U5IJXs48z9q03nV96z8oiHEwKH9UVCzUfz0jPYRbCgmJYqOnUZFK-QLweR7CiM/s320/mawubig.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113151037504256130" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: justify;">Mawu is the supreme and creator god according to the Ewe/Fon people of Abomey/ Dahomey (Republic of Benin). Mawu represents the moon that brings the night and cooler temperature in the African world. She is depicted as an old mother who dwells in the West. Coolness is an expression of wisdom and age for the Fon people. Mawu has a partner called Liza that is associated with the sun. Liza is regarded by African people as fierce and harsh. Mawu and Liza are described as an unseparable unity at the basis of the universe. They are also regarded as twins. Their unity representes the order of the universe. Liza is said to dwell in the East, and Mawu in the West. When there is an eclipse of the sun or the moon, the Fon people think that Mawu and Liza are making love. Mawu and Liza are the parents of seven pairs of twins. These twins are gods with different domains. Mawu and Liza were born from Nana Buluku, who created the world.</div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/6744450547250975702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=6744450547250975702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/6744450547250975702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/6744450547250975702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/mawu.html' title='Mawu'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcDErbF-p1tZCzbvuo-nyGZwcgOLsJw8utyGlvjZQoSIDHYRp7w_TBNxVy8JD0U5G1Gs6vItap-L2_U5IJXs48z9q03nV96z8oiHEwKH9UVCzUfz0jPYRbCgmJYqOnUZFK-QLweR7CiM/s72-c/mawubig.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-4858762419435453343</id><published>2007-09-19T09:10:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:38.057-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Inuit"/><title type='text'>Anningan & Malina</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKOpnRkEgQNThtJm5WVaHlcsHebgBaCHpJu0lCywlzeHphSEqyhooi8qhiw-blo5T8ixgQhVcCM1RtDnZ2ZkpulbPEoxKbi8qKUE0g9lcgf4NmcTyO-F7Qj7Ne0-o_puAMIGH2y6tlpU/s1600-h/sunandmoonnowordsos4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKOpnRkEgQNThtJm5WVaHlcsHebgBaCHpJu0lCywlzeHphSEqyhooi8qhiw-blo5T8ixgQhVcCM1RtDnZ2ZkpulbPEoxKbi8qKUE0g9lcgf4NmcTyO-F7Qj7Ne0-o_puAMIGH2y6tlpU/s320/sunandmoonnowordsos4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111971760807670226" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: justify;">Anningan is the name of the Moon god of some of the Inuit people that live in Greenland. The word "Inuit" means "people." Anningan continually chases his sister, Malina, the Sun goddess, across the sky. During this chase, he forgets to eat, and he gets much thinner. This is symbolic of the phases of the moon, particularly the crescent. To satisfy his hunger, he disappears for three days each month (new moon) and then returns full (gibbous) to chase his sister all over again. Malina wants to stay far away from her bad brother. That is why they rise and set at different times.</div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/4858762419435453343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=4858762419435453343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/4858762419435453343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/4858762419435453343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/anningan-malina.html' title='Anningan & Malina'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKOpnRkEgQNThtJm5WVaHlcsHebgBaCHpJu0lCywlzeHphSEqyhooi8qhiw-blo5T8ixgQhVcCM1RtDnZ2ZkpulbPEoxKbi8qKUE0g9lcgf4NmcTyO-F7Qj7Ne0-o_puAMIGH2y6tlpU/s72-c/sunandmoonnowordsos4.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-8863833840478950516</id><published>2007-09-19T08:49:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:38.170-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Chinese"/><title type='text'>The Ten Chinese Suns</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8BbgzhytJJlfkFIY6qXLRpErkvVN4ipohijITBe0tJghIrO5uZdxCqVXrttdaanjcpIUXixvWnG9as8_kEbGBl6CedkAPbBnYFqCoB5M1BGgCv71EqXHngCg7GS5T0MhquSh6UVJfW-Q/s1600-h/xe_he.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8BbgzhytJJlfkFIY6qXLRpErkvVN4ipohijITBe0tJghIrO5uZdxCqVXrttdaanjcpIUXixvWnG9as8_kEbGBl6CedkAPbBnYFqCoB5M1BGgCv71EqXHngCg7GS5T0MhquSh6UVJfW-Q/s320/xe_he.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111885595173777794" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: justify;">Chinese people believed that there existed ten suns that appeared in turn in the sky during the Chinese ten-day week. Each day the ten suns would travel with their mother, the goddess Xi He, to the Valley of the Light in the East. There, Xi He would wash her children in the lake and put them in the branches of an enormous mulberry tree called fu-sang. From the tree, only one sun would move off into the sky for a journey of one day, to reach the mount Yen-Tzu in the Far West. Tired of this routine, the ten suns decided to appear all together. The combined heat made the life on the Earth unbearable. To prevent the destruction of the Earth, the emperor Yao asked Di Jun, the father of the ten suns, to persuade his children to appear one at a time. They would not listen to him, so Di Jun sent the archer, Yi, armed with a magic bow and ten arrows to frighten the disobedient suns. However, Yi shot nine suns, only the Sun that we see today remained in the sky. Di Jun was so angry for the death of nine of his children that he condemned Yi to live as an ordinary mortal in the earth.</div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/8863833840478950516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=8863833840478950516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8863833840478950516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/8863833840478950516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/ten-chinese-suns.html' title='The Ten Chinese Suns'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8BbgzhytJJlfkFIY6qXLRpErkvVN4ipohijITBe0tJghIrO5uZdxCqVXrttdaanjcpIUXixvWnG9as8_kEbGBl6CedkAPbBnYFqCoB5M1BGgCv71EqXHngCg7GS5T0MhquSh6UVJfW-Q/s72-c/xe_he.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-2411399393014162808</id><published>2007-09-17T22:10:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:38.420-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Creatures"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Greek"/><title type='text'>Cerberus</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RapjZN4RAnZUiNjMi6rRqxtGYlKU26vgq-JvS7NUg5mgSkL3MuJ4jYyBWE7SyzShFFMZwth3gH6klSj665wyYBpz1QfalhQ4lLzAEKz-gs9D24KtkYSzkufmDs5cuu5LsnzfGcK_Wqc/s1600-h/cerberus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RapjZN4RAnZUiNjMi6rRqxtGYlKU26vgq-JvS7NUg5mgSkL3MuJ4jYyBWE7SyzShFFMZwth3gH6klSj665wyYBpz1QfalhQ4lLzAEKz-gs9D24KtkYSzkufmDs5cuu5LsnzfGcK_Wqc/s320/cerberus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111345032468508642" border="0" /></a> Cerberus is one of the offspring of Typhoeus and Echidna. It is a three headed dog with a snake tail and snake heads proturding from his back. He guards the entrance to the underworld, allowing the dead to enter but, never to leave. One of the few living mortals to get past Cerberus was Orpheus who charmed it to sleep with his song during his attempt to rescue Eurydice from death. Fetching Cerberus from the underworld and displaying him to King Eurystheus was the last labor of <a href="http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/herakles.html">Herakles</a> .</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/2411399393014162808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=2411399393014162808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2411399393014162808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/2411399393014162808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/cerberus.html' title='Cerberus'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RapjZN4RAnZUiNjMi6rRqxtGYlKU26vgq-JvS7NUg5mgSkL3MuJ4jYyBWE7SyzShFFMZwth3gH6klSj665wyYBpz1QfalhQ4lLzAEKz-gs9D24KtkYSzkufmDs5cuu5LsnzfGcK_Wqc/s72-c/cerberus.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-522511698796737847</id><published>2007-09-16T16:07:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:38.498-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gods Goddess"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Celtic"/><title type='text'>Brigid</title><content type='html'><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQy0b4lP18dWSX7vLP700UieKYiOSFATmjvUDZ5tB4fAKQEcryGIRdQsOD3X5AewtApHRtgWlhAVl-yvcUYPBQq-6Zmjf_W_7Abh7H5Yao2zpJs84njug4MJLvfWS9gkjA1bS1l8yJjns/s1600-h/brigid1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110893678650339250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQy0b4lP18dWSX7vLP700UieKYiOSFATmjvUDZ5tB4fAKQEcryGIRdQsOD3X5AewtApHRtgWlhAVl-yvcUYPBQq-6Zmjf_W_7Abh7H5Yao2zpJs84njug4MJLvfWS9gkjA1bS1l8yJjns/s320/brigid1.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div align="justify">One of the most complex and contradictory Goddesses of the Celtic pantheon, Brigid can be seen as the most powerful religious figure in all of Irish history. She has succeeded in travelling intact through generations, fulfilling different roles in divergent times. She was, and continues to be, known by many names. Referred to as Bride, Bridey, Brighid, Brigit, Briggidda, Brigantia and she is the Celtic Goddessof Fire (the forge and the hearth), poetry, healing, childbirth, and unity, is celebrated in many European countries. </div> <div align="justify">Born at the exact moment of daybreak, Brigid rose into the sky with the sun, rays of fire beaming from her head. She was the daughter of Dagda, the great 'father-god' of Ireland. In Druid mythology, the infant goddess was fed with milk from a sacred cow from the Otherworld. Brigid owned an apple orchard in the Otherworld and her bees would bring their magical nectar back to earth. It is said that wherever she walked, small flowers and shamrocks would appear. As a sun goddess her gifts are light (knowledge), inspiration, and the vital and healing energy of the sun. </div> <div align="justify"></div> <div align="center"> Brigid of the mantles, </div><div align="center">Brigid of the hearth flame, </div><div align="center">Brigid of the twining hair, </div><div align="center">Brigid of the augury, </div><div align="center">Brigid of the white feet, </div><div align="center">Brigid of calmness, </div><div align="center">Brigid of the white milk, </div><div align="center">Brigid of the crossroads. I am under the keeping of my Mother Mary. </div><div align="center">My companion beloved is Brigid. </div><div align="center">I shall not be slain, </div><div align="center">I shall not be sworded, </div><div align="center">I shall not be put in a cell, </div><div align="center">I shall not be hewn, </div><div align="center">I shall not be anguished, </div><div align="center">I shall not be wounded, </div><div align="center">I shall not be blinded, </div><div align="center">I shall not be left bare, </div><div align="center">Nor will Mary leave me forgotten. I am under the shielding of good Brigid each day. </div><div align="center">I am under the shielding of good Brigid each night. </div><div align="center">I am under the keeping of the Midwife of Mary </div><div align="center">Each early and late, every dark, every light. </div><div align="center">Brigid is my protector, Brigid is my maker of song. </div><div align="center">Brigid is my sword and shield, Brigid is my guide.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/522511698796737847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=522511698796737847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/522511698796737847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/522511698796737847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/brigid.html' title='Brigid'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQy0b4lP18dWSX7vLP700UieKYiOSFATmjvUDZ5tB4fAKQEcryGIRdQsOD3X5AewtApHRtgWlhAVl-yvcUYPBQq-6Zmjf_W_7Abh7H5Yao2zpJs84njug4MJLvfWS9gkjA1bS1l8yJjns/s72-c/brigid1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-4377100372901715662</id><published>2007-09-12T08:53:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:38.754-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Heros"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Greek"/><title type='text'>Herakles</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbboAHkmmFp9E9tim8XPNRNEd3JHBPLhAZHi2pmKTGuTJbt2lCmwBa8Kx4MvStGbKGqrkLlsPufiE6RLVJlxmS3pCiGV735ughIv__Fg0ZGQCTltzWBQmCUzFdp6v6GbjiLFaNGR01l6s/s1600-h/heracles_lion.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbboAHkmmFp9E9tim8XPNRNEd3JHBPLhAZHi2pmKTGuTJbt2lCmwBa8Kx4MvStGbKGqrkLlsPufiE6RLVJlxmS3pCiGV735ughIv__Fg0ZGQCTltzWBQmCUzFdp6v6GbjiLFaNGR01l6s/s320/heracles_lion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109291380971024098" border="0" /></a> Herakles is best known as the strongest of all mortals. Stronger then many gods. So strong he was the deciding factor in allowing the Olympian Gods to win their battle with the giants. He was the last mortal son of Zeus. He is the only man born of mortal woman to become a god upon his death. Offsetting his strength was a noticeable lack of intelligence or wisdom. Once when he became too hot he pulled his bow out and threaten to shoot the sun. This coupled with strong emotions in one so powerful frequently got Herakles in trouble. While his friend and cousin Theseus ruled Athens, Heracles had trouble ruling himself. His pride was easily offended. He took up grudges easily and never forgot them. His appetites for food, wine, and women were as massive as his strength. Many of Herakles great deeds occurred while doing penance for stupid acts done in anger or carelessness. It would be easy to view Herakles as a muscle bound buffoon. Indeed, many of the comic Greek playwrights used him this way. Even among serious critics he was often seen as a primitive, brutal, and violent. There is much to support this view. His chosen weapon was a massive club. His customary garment a lion skin, head still attached. He impiously wounded some of the gods. He threatened Apollo priestess at Delphi when a answer to his questions was not forthcoming. He created most of his own problems. However, Herakles as simply a macho buffoon is unfair. If he held grudges, he would also do anything to help a friend. Once his anger passed he was the most critical judge of his own actions. He was too strong for anyone to force a punishment on him. That he willing did severe penance shows a fundamental sense of justice. During his punishments he shows patience, fortitude and endurance that are as heroic as his strength. Terrible things happen to him because of Hera's hatred, a hatred that he is not responsible for. That he perseveres through it all is a moral victory beyond simple strength. The view of Herakles shifted considerable over time. The early view focused on how badly he managed despite his obvious gifts. As time passed the focus shifted to his virtues. The Romans valued him highly as he best fit their idea of a hero. He eventually had a fair sized cult that worshiped him as a god.Events in Herakles' Life <ul><li>Conception and Birth </li><li> Early Feats </li><li> The Argo </li><li> Marriage to Megra </li><li> The Labors </li><li> Contest for Iole </li><li> As Queen Omphale's Slave </li><li> Revenge against Laomedon </li><li> Battle with the Giants </li><li> Revenge against Augeias </li><li> Revenge against Neleus </li><li> Marriage to Deianeira </li><li> Death of Nessus </li><li> Dual with Cycnus and Ares </li><li> Revenge against Eurytus </li><li> Death </li><li> Life in Olympus</li></ul></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/4377100372901715662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=4377100372901715662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/4377100372901715662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/4377100372901715662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/herakles.html' title='Herakles'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbboAHkmmFp9E9tim8XPNRNEd3JHBPLhAZHi2pmKTGuTJbt2lCmwBa8Kx4MvStGbKGqrkLlsPufiE6RLVJlxmS3pCiGV735ughIv__Fg0ZGQCTltzWBQmCUzFdp6v6GbjiLFaNGR01l6s/s72-c/heracles_lion.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-9046168625107130582</id><published>2007-09-10T22:47:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:38.965-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Creatures"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Chiloe"/><title type='text'>La Voladora</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYza1prL9vsYg5ZVgEv1vhHFtdGbppjWP6qxGgzL6V9rlEaARqp0VhzVRSeApDVzttVG3gsRBsCFWqZqQz5lkVZFiLxaxv9Kl1vGpfyHWzvzfNBIIsnjJdntp0kn2E19NuZ0tRVHV-oA/s1600-h/voladora.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108764869014209346" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYza1prL9vsYg5ZVgEv1vhHFtdGbppjWP6qxGgzL6V9rlEaARqp0VhzVRSeApDVzttVG3gsRBsCFWqZqQz5lkVZFiLxaxv9Kl1vGpfyHWzvzfNBIIsnjJdntp0kn2E19NuZ0tRVHV-oA/s320/voladora.jpg" border="0" /></a> La Voladora is a witch too, but she doesn't participate in most of the witch activities and is kept on the edge of the cult and used solely for her special powers of being able to transform herself into a bird. In order to fly she has to undergo a secret and magic process in order to lighten her body. This process consists of vomiting her intestines onto a lapa (a wooden plate or a mollusc) that she later hides in the forest. Once this small inconvenience is taken care of she is now free to fly across oceans and deliver important messages for the inner circle of the clan. Unlike other witches, she doesn't need the famous macuñ (a jacket made from the skin of a virgin's chest) to fly. Her flight, however, is accompanied by loud unpleasant noises that scare the locals away. La Voladora must finish her mission before dawn and must swallow her intestines to recuperate her human shape. Should someone hide the lapa then this poor unfortunate wench would be forced to wander the earth in bird form for a year and a day.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/9046168625107130582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=9046168625107130582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/9046168625107130582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/9046168625107130582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/la-voladora.html' title='La Voladora'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYza1prL9vsYg5ZVgEv1vhHFtdGbppjWP6qxGgzL6V9rlEaARqp0VhzVRSeApDVzttVG3gsRBsCFWqZqQz5lkVZFiLxaxv9Kl1vGpfyHWzvzfNBIIsnjJdntp0kn2E19NuZ0tRVHV-oA/s72-c/voladora.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-7581535650232957184</id><published>2007-09-09T22:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:39.069-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Native American"/><title type='text'>Coyote and the Mice (A Native American story)</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9XFG7X4fYSZ_D-TdtVaU4jxIv_6zT9tOYR6VTwctmIAwskwPI-5fFuV4NU_PNOF7svMOOSS3U8c5fDicuYpKXoFvYkZJgUFFZ_sVI1CSQ5f5fh9o6eQjSCBqs5_89o1hVQookfA8_OI/s1600-h/coyote.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9XFG7X4fYSZ_D-TdtVaU4jxIv_6zT9tOYR6VTwctmIAwskwPI-5fFuV4NU_PNOF7svMOOSS3U8c5fDicuYpKXoFvYkZJgUFFZ_sVI1CSQ5f5fh9o6eQjSCBqs5_89o1hVQookfA8_OI/s320/coyote.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108389261239272098" border="0" /></a> Not many animals liked Coyote. Some thought he was foolish and others thought he was boastful. The mice didn’t like him because he was mean to them. One day when he was out walking, Coyote saw the Mice making lots of noise and rushing around under a tree. "Quick! Quick! Throw that rope over the branch!" cried one. "I need a bag! I need a bag now!" cried another. They scurried around, tripping and falling over each other as they tied small bags onto the ends of several ropes, then threw the other ends over the branches. "What are you stupid mice up to now?" asked Coyote. "We haven’t got time to stop and talk Mr Coyote," squeaked one mouse, throwing a rope over another branch. "Haven’t you heard? North Wind is on his way. He's going to throw hailstones as big as a bear's paw at all the animals! We're going to climb into these bags and pull ourselves up under the branches, so the hailstones can’t hit us." Fearing the hailstones, Coyote said "I'll join you." All the mice stopped dead in their tracks. "Ohhh! I don’t know about that," they squeaked. "If you don’t let me, I'll be mean to you again," shouted Coyote. "Alright. You can join us," squeaked the mice. "But you'll have to get your own bag and rope because we don’t have anything big enough or strong enough to hold you." "No problem," said Coyote. "I've got everything I need at home". "Then hurry Mr Coyote, because North Wind will be here any minute." Coyote rushed off home. The mice waited until he was out of sight, then fell over squeaking with laughter. When they saw him coming back they picked themselves up and pretended to tie more bags. "You must wait until last and pull yourself up, Mr Coyote, because you are too heavy," said the mice. "No. I'll go first," said Coyote. "North Wind is fast and could get here before I’m protected. If all of you hold the end of the rope you can pull me up." The mice shook their heads doubtfully. Coyote yelled "do it, or I'll be mean to you!" "Alright," said the mice. Coyote got into the bag and the mice tied the rope around the top of it. A mouse picked up a small stone and threw it at the bag. "Ouch," said Coyote "I felt a hailstone already. Quick, get me up under the tree!" The mice pulled on the rope until Coyote swung off the ground. Then they tied the end of the rope around the tree trunk. The mice picked up stones and threw them at the bag. "Ooowww! Ooowww!" howled Coyote. "The hailstones hurt." "Be brave Mr Coyote. The storm will pass soon," said the mice. And they picked up bigger stones to throw at the bag. "Ooowww, my head! Oooww, my back!" howled Coyote. Finally they stopped throwing stones and one of the mice said, "North Wind has gone now, we can come down." When Coyote’s bag was on the ground and the rope untied, Coyote slowly crawled out onto the ground, all battered and bruised. "I thought I was going to die," he said. "They must have been the biggest hailstones ever!" Coyote felt the ground. It was dry. He looked up at the blue sky and there wasn’t a cloud to be see. "How could this be? We've just had a hailstorm," he said. "We tricked you, you dumb old Coyote," yelled the mice as they scurried off into their holes, laughing. "I’ll get you for this," howled Coyote, feeling his sore head. "But not today". "Ooow, my sore head. Ooow, my sore back. Ooow, my sore nose" he cried as he slowly hobbled home to bed. <div style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://members.ozemail.com.au/%7Eoban/coyomice.htm">From</a> </div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/7581535650232957184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=7581535650232957184' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/7581535650232957184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/7581535650232957184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/coyote-and-mice-native-american-story.html' title='Coyote and the Mice (A Native American story)'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9XFG7X4fYSZ_D-TdtVaU4jxIv_6zT9tOYR6VTwctmIAwskwPI-5fFuV4NU_PNOF7svMOOSS3U8c5fDicuYpKXoFvYkZJgUFFZ_sVI1CSQ5f5fh9o6eQjSCBqs5_89o1hVQookfA8_OI/s72-c/coyote.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-3098019142404619876</id><published>2007-09-08T15:04:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:39.143-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Japanes"/><title type='text'>Ama-no-Iwato, the Heavenly Rock Cave</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPD2Z92iy75sz4vybT-U3r3Sa6y14jSb6c9OYzzetVHLxMBtAVQLFtI8D1vNpTNjVZertEgSyDu8FA8SYxstxWEmPeNhZNoW0VfTgeCC0puZdNAAvFey_1KDXlBMkGxT0LmEv9DrotKI/s1600-h/-Amaterasu_cave.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPD2Z92iy75sz4vybT-U3r3Sa6y14jSb6c9OYzzetVHLxMBtAVQLFtI8D1vNpTNjVZertEgSyDu8FA8SYxstxWEmPeNhZNoW0VfTgeCC0puZdNAAvFey_1KDXlBMkGxT0LmEv9DrotKI/s320/-Amaterasu_cave.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107896688619962850" border="0" /></a> After heaven and earth had been separated, two married kami, Izanagi-no-kami and Izanami-no-kami, gave birth to the land of Japan and to various kami of the seas, the rivers, the mountains and the fields. Finally the two gave birth to three specially revered kami: Amaterasu Omikami, Tsukiyomi-no-kami and Susanoo-no-kami. They gave necklace of jewel beads to Amaterasu Omikami and ordered her to govern Takama-no-Hara (the Plain of Heaven), they further ordered Tsukiyomi-no-kami to govern the night and Susanoo-no-kami to govern the sea. Susanoo-no-kami, however, went against the will of the married deities and gave up governing the sea. Instead he ascended to Takama-no-Hara, and committed outrageous deeds such as destroying the paddy fields and the weaving house on the Heavenly Plain. Amaterasu Omikami angered by his behavior and hid herself in the Heavenly Rock Cave called Ama-no-Iwato. As a result, the world of both heaven and earth became dark, throwing everything into confusion. The eight million kami got together beside the river in the Plain of Heaven, debating how to induce Amaterasu Omikami to come out of the Heavenly Rock Cave. They decided first to make the divine mirror Yata-no-Kagami and hang it in front of the cave, second, to hold a joyous festival, and third, to perform the sacred dance and music called kagura. As a result of this, Amaterasu Omikami emerged from the Heavenly Rock Cave, illuminating everything with her gentle light. She made heaven and earth bright again and brought back harmony and order. Susanoo-no-kami was expelled from the Heavenly Plain to the land of Izumo. There Susanoo-no-kami, killed a giant snake, the Yamata-no-Orochi, which had been tormenting the people of Izumo. He extracted a divine sword out of the snake's tail and presented it to Amaterasu Omikami. This sword is one of the three imperial regalia.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/3098019142404619876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=3098019142404619876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/3098019142404619876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/3098019142404619876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/tale-of-ama-no-iwato-heavenly-rock-cave.html' title='Ama-no-Iwato, the Heavenly Rock Cave'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPD2Z92iy75sz4vybT-U3r3Sa6y14jSb6c9OYzzetVHLxMBtAVQLFtI8D1vNpTNjVZertEgSyDu8FA8SYxstxWEmPeNhZNoW0VfTgeCC0puZdNAAvFey_1KDXlBMkGxT0LmEv9DrotKI/s72-c/-Amaterasu_cave.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3007630813829776157.post-4502221997804905837</id><published>2007-09-07T07:53:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T23:35:39.296-02:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Native American"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mythology-Sioux"/><title type='text'>White Plume</title><content type='html'><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROlQs3CqteaUZCtjlswMpEBaWVkDfElUSpVvH_d49t7ndZAAUSx8gP8KI41XOfKvEuT9uW6pLYIH03OrOYlz6TnIPj8to80gAFwRej4f9Zm49xntfz9YjP1EZOJf-2DoCA255J4E6mPs/s1600-h/white_feather.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROlQs3CqteaUZCtjlswMpEBaWVkDfElUSpVvH_d49t7ndZAAUSx8gP8KI41XOfKvEuT9uW6pLYIH03OrOYlz6TnIPj8to80gAFwRej4f9Zm49xntfz9YjP1EZOJf-2DoCA255J4E6mPs/s320/white_feather.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107420750408990642" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: justify;"> There once lived a young couple who were very happy. The young man was noted throughout the whole nation for his accuracy with the bow and arrow, and was given the title of "Dead Shot," or "He who never misses his mark," and the young woman, noted for her beauty, was named Beautiful Dove. One day a stork paid this happy couple a visit and left them a fine big boy. The boy cried "Ina, ina" (mother, mother). "Listen to our son," said the mother, "he can speak, and hasn't he a sweet voice?" "Yes," said the father, "it will not be long before he will be able to walk." He set to work making some arrows, and a fine hickory bow for his son. One of the arrows he painted red, one blue, and another yellow. The rest he left the natural color of the wood. When he had completed them, the mother placed them in a fine quiver, all worked in porcupine quills, and hung them up over where the boy slept in his fine hammock of painted moose hide. At times when the mother would be nursing her son, she would look up at the bow and arrows and talk to her baby, saying: "My son, hurry up and grow fast so you can use your bow and arrows. You will grow up to be as fine a marksman as your father." The baby would coo and stretch his little arms up towards the bright colored quiver as though he understood every word his mother had uttered. Time passed and the boy grew up to a good size, when one day his father said: "Wife, give our son the bow and arrows so that he may learn how to use them." The father taught his son how to string and unstring the bow, and also how to attach the arrow to the string. The red, blue and yellow arrows, he told the boy, were to be used only whenever there was any extra good shooting to be done, so the boy never used these three until he became a master of the art. Then he would practice on eagles and hawks, and never an eagle or hawk continued his flight when the boy shot one of the arrows after him. </div><div style="text-align: center;">»¤« »¤« »¤« </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> One day the boy came running into the tent, exclaiming: "Mother, mother, I have shot and killed the most beautiful bird I ever saw." "Bring it in, my son, and let me look at it." He brought the bird and upon examining it she pronounced it a different type of bird from any she had ever seen. Its feathers were of variegated colors and on its head was a topknot of pure white feathers. The father, returning, asked the boy with which arrow he had killed the bird. "With the red one," answered the boy. "I was so anxious to secure the pretty bird that, although I know I could have killed it with one of my common arrows, I wanted to be certain, so I used the red one." "That is right, my son," said the father. "When you have the least doubt of your aim, always use one of the painted arrows, and you will never miss your mark." The parents decided to give a big feast in honor of their son killing the strange, beautiful bird. So a great many elderly women were called to the tent of Pretty Dove to assist her in making ready for the big feast. For ten days these women cooked and pounded beef and cherries, and got ready the choicest dishes known to the Indians. Of buffalo, beaver, deer, antelope, moose, bear, quail, grouse, duck of all kinds, geese and plover meats there was an abundance. Fish of all kinds, and every kind of wild fruit were cooked, and when all was in readiness, the heralds went through the different villages, crying out: "Ho-po, ho-po" (now all, now all), Dead Shot and his wife, Beautiful Dove, invite all of you, young and old, to their tepee to partake of a great feast, given by them in honor of a great bird which their son has killed, and also to select for their son some good name which he will bear through life. So all bring your cups and wooden dishes along with your horn spoons, as there will be plenty to eat. Come, all you council men and chiefs, as they have also a great tent erected for you in which you hold your council." </div><div style="text-align: center;">»¤« »¤« »¤« </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> Thus crying, the heralds made the circle of the village. The guests soon arrived. In front of the tent was a pole stuck in the ground and painted red, and at the top of the pole was fastened the bird of variegated colors; its wings stretched out to their full length and the beautiful white waving so beautifully from its topknot, it was the center of attraction. Half way up the pole was tied the bow and arrow of the young marksman. Long streamers of fine bead and porcupine work waved from the pole and presented a very striking appearance. The bird was faced towards the setting sun. The great chief and medicine men pronounced the bird "Wakan" (something holy). When the people had finished eating they all fell in line and marched in single file beneath the bird, in order to get a close view of it. By the time this vast crowd had fully viewed the wonderful bird, the sun was just setting clear in the west, when directly over the rays of the sun appeared a cloud in the shape of a bird of variegated colors. The councilmen were called out to look at the cloud, and the head medicine man said that it was a sign that the boy would grow up to be a great chief and hunter, and would have a great many friends and followers. This ended the feast, but before dispersing, the chief and councilmen bestowed upon the boy the title of White Plume. </div><div style="text-align: center;">»¤« »¤« »¤« </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> One day a stranger came to the village, who was very thin and nearly starved. So weak was he that he could not speak, but made signs for something to eat. Luckily the stranger came to Dead Shot's tent, and as there was always a plentiful supply in his lodge, the stranger soon had a good meal served him. After he had eaten and rested he told his story. "I came from a very great distance," said he. "The nations where I came from are in a starving condition. No place can they find any buffalo, deer nor antelope. A witch or evil spirit in the shape of a white buffalo has driven all the large game out of the country. Every day this white buffalo comes circling the village, and any one caught outside of their tent is carried away on its horns. In vain have the best marksmen of the tribe tried to shoot it. Their arrows fly wide off the mark, and they have given up trying to kill it as it bears a charmed life. Another evil spirit in the form of a red eagle has driven all the birds of the air out of our country. Every day this eagle circles above the village, and so powerful is it that anyone being caught outside of his tent is descended upon and his skull split open to the brain by the sharp breastbone of the Eagle. Many a marksman has tried his skill on this bird, all to no purpose. "Another evil spirit in the form of a white rabbit has driven out all the animals which inhabit the ground, and destroyed the fields of corn and turnips, so the nation is starving, as the arrows of the marksmen have also failed to touch the white rabbit. Any one who can kill these three witches will receive as his reward, the choice of two of the most beautiful maidens of our nation. The younger one is the handsomer of the two and has also the sweetest disposition. Many young, and even old men, hearing of this (our chief's) offer, have traveled many miles to try their arrows on the witches, but all to no purpose. Our chief, hearing of your great marksmanship, sent me to try and secure your services to have you come and rid us of these three witches." Thus spoke the stranger to the hunter. The hunter gazed long and thoughtfully into the dying embers of the camp fire. Then slowly his eyes raised and looked lovingly on his wife who sat opposite to him. Gazing on her beautiful features for a full minute he slowly dropped his gaze back to the dying embers and thus answered his visitor: "My friend, I feel very much honored by your chief having sent such a great distance for me, and also for the kind offer of his lovely daughter in marriage, if I should succeed, but I must reject the great offer, as I can spare none of my affections to any other woman than to my queen whom you see sitting there." </div><div style="text-align: center;">»¤« »¤« »¤« </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> White Plume had been listening to the conversation and when his father had finished speaking, said: "Father, I am a child no more. I have arrived at manhood. I am not so good a marksman as you, but I will go to this suffering tribe and try to rid them of their three enemies. If this man will rest for a few days and return to his village and inform them of my coming, I will travel along slowly on his trail and arrive at the village a day or two after he reaches there." "Very well, my son," said the father, "I am sure you will succeed, as you fear nothing, and as to your marksmanship, it is far superior to mine, as your sight is much clearer and aim quicker than mine." The man rested a few days and one morning started off, after having instructed White Plume as to the trail. White Plume got together what he would need on the trip and was ready for an early start the next morning. That night Dead Shot and his wife sat up away into the night instructing their son how to travel and warning him as to the different kinds of people he must avoid in order to keep out of trouble. "Above all," said the father, "keep a good look out for Unktomi (spider); he is the most tricky of all, and will get you into trouble if you associate with him." White Plume left early, his father accompanying him for several miles. On parting, the father's last words were: "Look out for Unktomi, my son, he is deceitful and treacherous." "I'll look out for him, father;" so saying he disappeared over a hill. On the way he tried his skill on several hawks and eagles and he did not need to use his painted arrows to kill them, but so skillful was he with the bow and arrows that he could bring down anything that flew with his common arrows. He was drawing near to the end of his destination when he had a large tract of timber to pass through. When he had nearly gotten through the timber he saw an old man sitting on a log, looking wistfully up into a big tree, where sat a number of prairie chickens. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">»¤« »¤« »¤« </div> "Hello, grandfather, why are you sitting there looking so downhearted?" asked White Plume. "I am nearly starved, and was just wishing some one would shoot one of those chickens for me, so I could make a good meal on it," said the old man. "I will shoot one for you," said the young man. He strung his bow, placed an arrow on the string, simply seemed to raise the arrow in the direction of the chicken (taking no aim). Twang went out the bow, zip went the arrow and a chicken fell off the limb, only to get caught on another in its descent. "There is your chicken, grandfather." "Oh, my grandson, I am too weak to climb up and get it. Can't you climb up and get it for me?" The young man, pitying the old fellow, proceeded to climb the tree, when the old man stopped him, saying: "Grandson, you have on such fine clothes, it is a pity to spoil them; you had better take them off so as not to spoil the fine porcupine work on them." The young man took off his fine clothes and climbed up into the tree, and securing the chicken, threw it down to the old man. As the young man was scaling down the tree, the old man said: "Iyashkapa, iyashkapa," (stick fast, stick fast). Hearing him say something, he asked, "What did you say, old man?" He answered, "I was only talking to myself." The young man proceeded to descend, but he could not move. His body was stuck fast to the bark of the tree. In vain did he beg the old man to release him. The old Unktomi, for he it was, only laughed and said: "I will go now and kill the evil spirits, I have your wonderful bow and arrows and I cannot miss them. I will marry the chief's daughter, and you can stay up in that tree and die there." So saying, he put on White Plume's fine clothes, took his bow and arrows and went to the village. As White Plume was expected at any minute, the whole village was watching for him, and when Unktomi came into sight the young men ran to him with a painted robe, sat him down on it and slowly raising him up they carried him to the tent of the chief. So certain were they that he would kill the evil spirits that the chief told him to choose one of the daughters at once for his wife. (Before the arrival of White Plume, hearing of him being so handsome, the two girls had quarreled over which should marry him, but upon seeing him the younger was not anxious to become his wife.) So Unktomi chose the older one of the sisters, and was given a large tent in which to live. The younger sister went to her mother's tent to live, and the older was very proud, as she was married to the man who would save the nation from starvation. The next morning there was a great commotion in camp, and there came the cry that the white buffalo was coming. "Get ready, son-in-law, and kill the buffalo," said the chief. Unktomi took the bow and arrows and shot as the buffalo passed, but the arrow went wide off its mark. Next came the eagle, and again he shot and missed. Then came the rabbit, and again he missed. "Wait until tomorrow, I will kill them all. My blanket caught in my bow and spoiled my aim." The people were very much disappointed, and the chief, suspecting that all was not right, sent for the young man who had visited Dead Shot's tepee. When the young man arrived, the chief asked: "Did you see White Plume when you went to Dead Shot's camp?" "Yes, I did, and ate with him many times. I stayed at his father's tepee all the time I was there," said the young man. "Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" asked the chief. "Any one who had but one glimpse of White Plume would surely recognize him when he saw him again, as he is the most handsome man I ever saw," said the young man. "Come with me to the tent of my son-in-law and take a good look at him, but don't say what you think until we come away." The two went to the tent of Unktomi, and when the young man saw him he knew it was not White Plume, although it was White Plume's bow and arrows that hung at the head of the bed, and he also recognized the clothes as belonging to White Plume. When they had returned to the chief's tent, the young man told what he knew and what he thought. "I think this is some Unktomi who has played some trick on White Plume and has taken his bow and arrows and also his clothes, and hearing of your offer, is here impersonating White Plume. Had White Plume drawn the bow on the buffalo, eagle and rabbit today, we would have been rid of them, so I think we had better scare this Unktomi into telling us where White Plume is," said the young man. "Wait until he tries to kill the witches again tomorrow," said the chief. </div><div style="text-align: center;">»¤« »¤« »¤« </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> In the meantime the younger daughter had taken an axe and gone into the woods in search of dry wood. She went quite a little distance into the wood and was chopping a dry log. Stopping to rest a little she heard some one saying: "Whoever you are, come over here and chop this tree down so that I may get loose." Going to where the big tree stood, she saw a man stuck onto the side of the tree. "If I chop it down the fall will kill you," said the girl. "No, chop it on the opposite side from me, and the tree will fall that way. If the fall kills me, it will be better than hanging up here and starving to death," said White Plume, for it was he. The girl chopped the tree down and when she saw that it had not killed the man, she said: "What shall I do now?" "Loosen the bark from the tree and then get some stones and heat them. Get some water and sage and put your blanket over me." She did as told and when the steam arose from the water being poured upon the heated rocks, the bark loosened from his body and he arose. When he stood up, she saw how handsome he was. "You have saved my life," said he. "Will you be my wife?" "I will," said she. He then told her how the old man had fooled him into this trap and took his bow and arrows, also his fine porcupine worked clothes, and had gone off, leaving him to die. She, in turn, told him all that had happened in camp since a man, calling himself White Plume, came there and married her sister before he shot at the witches, and when he came to shoot at them, missed every shot. "Let us make haste, as the bad Unktomi may ruin my arrows." They approached the camp and whilst White Plume waited outside, his promised wife entered Unktomi's tent and said: "Unktomi, White Plume is standing outside and he wants his clothes and bow and arrows." "Oh, yes, I borrowed them and forgot to return them; make haste and give them to him." Upon receiving his clothes, he was very much provoked to find his fine clothes wrinkled and his bow twisted, while the arrows were twisted out of shape. He laid the clothes down, also the bows and arrows, and passing his hand over them, they assumed their right shapes again. The daughter took White Plume to her father's tent and upon hearing the story he at once sent for his warriors and had them form a circle around Unktomi's tent, and if he attempted to escape to catch him and tie him to a tree, as he (the chief) had determined to settle accounts with him for his treatment of White Plume, and the deception employed in winning the chief's eldest daughter. About midnight the guard noticed something crawling along close to the ground, and seizing him found it was Unktomi trying to make his escape before daylight, whereupon they tied him to a tree. "Why do you treat me thus," cried Unktomi, "I was just going out in search of medicine to rub on my arrows, so I can kill the witches." "You will need medicine to rub on yourself when the chief gets through with you," said the young man who had discovered that Unktomi was impersonating White Plume. In the morning the herald announced that the real White Plume had arrived, and the chief desired the whole nation to witness his marksmanship. Then came the cry: "The White Buffalo comes." Taking his red arrow, White Plume stood ready. When the buffalo got about opposite him, he let his arrow fly. The buffalo bounded high in the air and came down with all four feet drawn together under its body, the red arrow having passed clear through the animal, piercing the buffalo's heart. A loud cheer went up from the village. </div><div style="text-align: center;">»¤« »¤« »¤« </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> "You shall use the hide for your bed," said the chief to White Plume. Next came a cry, "the eagle, the eagle." From the north came an enormous red eagle. So strong was he, that as he soared through the air his wings made a humming sound as the rumble of distant thunder. On he came, and just as he circled the tent of the chief, White Plume bent his bow, with all his strength drew the arrow back to the flint point, and sent the blue arrow on its mission of death. So swiftly had the arrow passed through the eagle's body that, thinking White Plume had missed, a great wail went up from the crowd, but when they saw the eagle stop in his flight, give a few flaps of his wings, and then fall with a heavy thud into the center of the village, there was a greater cheer than before. "The red eagle shall be used to decorate the seat of honor in your tepee," said the chief to White Plume. Last came the white rabbit. "Aim good, aim good, son-in-law," said the chief. "If you kill him you will have his skin for a rug." Along came the white rabbit, and White Plume sent his arrow in search of rabbit's heart, which it found, and stopped Mr. Rabbit's tricks forever. The chief then called all of the people together and before them all took a hundred willows and broke them one at a time over Unktomi's back. Then he turned him loose. Unktomi, being so ashamed, ran off into the woods and hid in the deepest and darkest corner he could find. This is why Unktomis (spiders) are always found in dark corners, and anyone who is deceitful or untruthful is called a descendant of the Unktomi tribe. </div></content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/feeds/4502221997804905837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3007630813829776157&postID=4502221997804905837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/4502221997804905837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3007630813829776157/posts/default/4502221997804905837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://legends-myth.blogspot.com/2007/09/white-plume.html' title='White Plume'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17507274236562253047</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROlQs3CqteaUZCtjlswMpEBaWVkDfElUSpVvH_d49t7ndZAAUSx8gP8KI41XOfKvEuT9uW6pLYIH03OrOYlz6TnIPj8to80gAFwRej4f9Zm49xntfz9YjP1EZOJf-2DoCA255J4E6mPs/s72-c/white_feather.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>

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