(This is the first year in which our little tree has grown fruit. We're so proud, even though the House of Glee did nothing to help it along.)
Showing posts with label pomegranate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pomegranate. Show all posts
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Unusual Gifts
The Magic Pomegranate is a variation of a story I like to tell to older audiences (i.e. middle-school and up) about three brothers, a wise princess, and fantastic gifts. I first learned this story with the apple as the magic fruit in "The Princess in the Mirror," from the collection of riddle-tales called While Standing on One Foot. In The Three Princes, the fruit is an orange. In any event, it's a good story. The ending rarely comes as a surprise to anyone, but the fun is in the journey... literally.
(This is the first year in which our little tree has grown fruit. We're so proud, even though the House of Glee did nothing to help it along.)
(This is the first year in which our little tree has grown fruit. We're so proud, even though the House of Glee did nothing to help it along.)
Friday, October 07, 2005
The Pomegranate Tree, Part II
Welcome to Part II of "The Pomegranate Tree," post-dated for the sake of tidiness. Copyright 1994, 2005. Here is the link to Part I.
The serpent squeezed its body tightly around the woman’s neck. The serpent said, “Now, you will die.”
The woman did not know what “die” meant, but as the serpent began to choke her, she knew the pain was connected to the word it had uttered. With all of her strength, the woman grasped the serpent and pulled his lashing body from around her neck. As she gripped the serpent, it spat venom at her eyes. Although the liquid seared her face, the woman did not let go.
Finally, the serpent ceased to struggle. With great weariness, it asked, “What do you want of me?”
“The truth,” the woman replied.
“As you like,” the serpent said. “I will answer any three questions you ask. I will also grant you a blessing if you will release me.”
“I want to know why you pretended to be kind to me, and then turned on me in malice,” the woman demanded as she clenched the limp animal.
“Oh woman,” the serpent replied, “I never pretended kindness, although I intended no cruelty either. I told you in the beginning that my name was Knowledge. I am not noted for my gentleness, as I will teach you and your descendents many times more.”
“Why are you not kind?” the woman asked. She wanted to kill the serpent, but as long as the serpent continued to answer her, she would refrain.
“I am not kind because it is not in my nature to be kind,” the serpent said. “When El created me, El filled me with the Knowledge of the world. I learned all of the possible consequences of every action. If I knew only half of what I know, then I could believe that everyone would make good choices with proper happy endings for all. But that is not so. You do not know everything, so you can be kind. I cannot.”
The woman began to pity the serpent. She loosened her hold slightly. The serpent expanded its throat muscles, as they had become cramped by the woman’s fingers. The serpent said, “I will give you my blessing, which is this: Your children will seek me to study under me. Those who find me and who do not die when I bite them will learn from me all they wish to know.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, “but I have not yet asked you my third question.”
The serpent smiled. “Ask me another time," it said. The serpent wriggled free from the woman’s hands, dropped to the grass and disappeared into a hole beneath the tree.
Then, the woman heard footsteps against the ground. She turned around to see the man. He had just woken up.
“Love, I have slept a long time, and now I am hungry,” the man said.
The woman picked up the pomegranate that had fallen from her hand into the grass. “Eat with me” she said, handing him some seeds of the fruit.
After they ate, the woman and the man fashioned themselves cloaks of eucalyptus leaves, for the garden had become a bit chilly. They waited for El. When El appeared, accompanied by the morning star, the woman greeted El and said, “I don’t think we should stay in this garden any longer.”
“Yes,” El said. “This garden is beautiful, but I created it alone. Now that you are older, you may create gardens as well. On the other side of the river there is land for you to plant and tend. I will send water and sun for your gardens, but you shall nurture the land and eat that which you harvest.”
The serpent squeezed its body tightly around the woman’s neck. The serpent said, “Now, you will die.”
The woman did not know what “die” meant, but as the serpent began to choke her, she knew the pain was connected to the word it had uttered. With all of her strength, the woman grasped the serpent and pulled his lashing body from around her neck. As she gripped the serpent, it spat venom at her eyes. Although the liquid seared her face, the woman did not let go.
Finally, the serpent ceased to struggle. With great weariness, it asked, “What do you want of me?”
“The truth,” the woman replied.
“As you like,” the serpent said. “I will answer any three questions you ask. I will also grant you a blessing if you will release me.”
“I want to know why you pretended to be kind to me, and then turned on me in malice,” the woman demanded as she clenched the limp animal.
“Oh woman,” the serpent replied, “I never pretended kindness, although I intended no cruelty either. I told you in the beginning that my name was Knowledge. I am not noted for my gentleness, as I will teach you and your descendents many times more.”
“Why are you not kind?” the woman asked. She wanted to kill the serpent, but as long as the serpent continued to answer her, she would refrain.
“I am not kind because it is not in my nature to be kind,” the serpent said. “When El created me, El filled me with the Knowledge of the world. I learned all of the possible consequences of every action. If I knew only half of what I know, then I could believe that everyone would make good choices with proper happy endings for all. But that is not so. You do not know everything, so you can be kind. I cannot.”
The woman began to pity the serpent. She loosened her hold slightly. The serpent expanded its throat muscles, as they had become cramped by the woman’s fingers. The serpent said, “I will give you my blessing, which is this: Your children will seek me to study under me. Those who find me and who do not die when I bite them will learn from me all they wish to know.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, “but I have not yet asked you my third question.”
The serpent smiled. “Ask me another time," it said. The serpent wriggled free from the woman’s hands, dropped to the grass and disappeared into a hole beneath the tree.
Then, the woman heard footsteps against the ground. She turned around to see the man. He had just woken up.
“Love, I have slept a long time, and now I am hungry,” the man said.
The woman picked up the pomegranate that had fallen from her hand into the grass. “Eat with me” she said, handing him some seeds of the fruit.
After they ate, the woman and the man fashioned themselves cloaks of eucalyptus leaves, for the garden had become a bit chilly. They waited for El. When El appeared, accompanied by the morning star, the woman greeted El and said, “I don’t think we should stay in this garden any longer.”
“Yes,” El said. “This garden is beautiful, but I created it alone. Now that you are older, you may create gardens as well. On the other side of the river there is land for you to plant and tend. I will send water and sun for your gardens, but you shall nurture the land and eat that which you harvest.”
Thursday, October 06, 2005
The Pomegranate Tree, Part I
The following story is from my senior project, a small book called The Language of Leaves. I chose the title from a line in an e.e. cummings poem. Afterward, I experienced what I thought was writer's block. Really, it was more a matter of my attemping to write the thinly-veiled autobiographic first novel, instead of something more enjoyable (for example, a science-fiction western space saga.)
The Pomegranate Tree, Part I
Copyright 1994, 2005
After El Shaddai, the creator of the world, formed the woman and the man, El said to them, “This ground is my garden, therefore it is your garden. Everything you see is yours to touch and all the fruits of the trees are yours to eat. However, the pomegranate tree is different from the others. As long as you stay far from this tree, your days and evenings will be equal in length, and you will need to worry about nothing. But if you eat the fruit of the pomegranate, you will surely change, and that change will alter everything you know.”
El left the garden when the evening star appeared. The woman and the man lay in the grass beneath the eucalyptus tree, and its branches moved with the damp river breeze. The woman turned to the man and asked, “What did El mean by ‘change?’” She did not understand, for the leaves in the garden did not yet fall, and the oranges and pears did not yet rot.
The man did not answer her. He was asleep. The woman rose and walked toward the pomegranate tree—the tree that El said could change her.
“You might never know what change is,” a voice said near her ear. The woman looked up. A long, shimmering green serpent, burnished silver with moonlight, had wound itself around a limb of the tree.
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
“I am Knowledge,” the serpent replied. “I am the crown of the brow of El, and I advise El in all manners concerning this world.”
“Could you advise me?” the woman asked.
“What, good woman, could you possibly want me to tell you that you don’t already know?”
“I want to know what change is,” the woman said. “I want to know if I want it. El said that if the man and I ate of this fruit, we would change. Would it be a good thing if we did?”
“The serpent blinked one emerald eye, and then the other.” That would depend,” the serpent said, “on what you think a good thing is.”
The woman did not know. She turned away from the tree and returned to the man, who was still sleeping. As she lay beside him, the woman wondered, “He sleeps, so why can’t I sleep too?” But since the woman was not tired, she stayed awake and thought about the serpent whom she could still see intertwined in the branches of the pomegranate tree.
After several hours had passed, the woman was hungry. She was careful not to disturb the man’s sleep as she untangled her fingers from his hair. She walked over to a peach tree. However, the peach she ate did not satisfy her. She devoured a pineapple, and then a handful of brown olives, but after sampling fruits from almost every plant in the garden, she was still ravenous. Then, the woman approached the tree of change and reached out for one of its gold-tinged, rosy fruits. As she began to pluck the pomegranate from the branch, the serpent slid over her hand and wound itself around her wrist.
“Change hurts,” the serpent said. “Woman, if you do not eat this fruit, you will never need to choose anything, for you will have everything. Life in this garden will continue as always and El will provide all the pleasures and enjoyments you wish for. Why would you want to alter that which you already have so easily?”
The woman drew her hand away from the fruit. The serpent glided up the woman’s arm, coiled around her neck, and flicked its tongue against the inner curve of her ear. “Do you really want to lose your man as he searches for someone younger and more delicious than you?”
“He wouldn’t,” the woman said.
“He might,” the serpent countered. “You wanted me to counsel you, and now I am telling you this: Be sensible. Stay safe.”
“I don’t believe you,” the woman said. She reached for the fruit again. The woman pulled the pomegranate from the tree, bit into it, and swallowed the rind, pulp and seeds.
The serpent squeezed its body tightly around the woman’s neck. “Now, you will die,” it said.
Part II continues the story...
The Pomegranate Tree, Part I
Copyright 1994, 2005
After El Shaddai, the creator of the world, formed the woman and the man, El said to them, “This ground is my garden, therefore it is your garden. Everything you see is yours to touch and all the fruits of the trees are yours to eat. However, the pomegranate tree is different from the others. As long as you stay far from this tree, your days and evenings will be equal in length, and you will need to worry about nothing. But if you eat the fruit of the pomegranate, you will surely change, and that change will alter everything you know.”
El left the garden when the evening star appeared. The woman and the man lay in the grass beneath the eucalyptus tree, and its branches moved with the damp river breeze. The woman turned to the man and asked, “What did El mean by ‘change?’” She did not understand, for the leaves in the garden did not yet fall, and the oranges and pears did not yet rot.
The man did not answer her. He was asleep. The woman rose and walked toward the pomegranate tree—the tree that El said could change her.
“You might never know what change is,” a voice said near her ear. The woman looked up. A long, shimmering green serpent, burnished silver with moonlight, had wound itself around a limb of the tree.
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
“I am Knowledge,” the serpent replied. “I am the crown of the brow of El, and I advise El in all manners concerning this world.”
“Could you advise me?” the woman asked.
“What, good woman, could you possibly want me to tell you that you don’t already know?”
“I want to know what change is,” the woman said. “I want to know if I want it. El said that if the man and I ate of this fruit, we would change. Would it be a good thing if we did?”
“The serpent blinked one emerald eye, and then the other.” That would depend,” the serpent said, “on what you think a good thing is.”
The woman did not know. She turned away from the tree and returned to the man, who was still sleeping. As she lay beside him, the woman wondered, “He sleeps, so why can’t I sleep too?” But since the woman was not tired, she stayed awake and thought about the serpent whom she could still see intertwined in the branches of the pomegranate tree.
After several hours had passed, the woman was hungry. She was careful not to disturb the man’s sleep as she untangled her fingers from his hair. She walked over to a peach tree. However, the peach she ate did not satisfy her. She devoured a pineapple, and then a handful of brown olives, but after sampling fruits from almost every plant in the garden, she was still ravenous. Then, the woman approached the tree of change and reached out for one of its gold-tinged, rosy fruits. As she began to pluck the pomegranate from the branch, the serpent slid over her hand and wound itself around her wrist.
“Change hurts,” the serpent said. “Woman, if you do not eat this fruit, you will never need to choose anything, for you will have everything. Life in this garden will continue as always and El will provide all the pleasures and enjoyments you wish for. Why would you want to alter that which you already have so easily?”
The woman drew her hand away from the fruit. The serpent glided up the woman’s arm, coiled around her neck, and flicked its tongue against the inner curve of her ear. “Do you really want to lose your man as he searches for someone younger and more delicious than you?”
“He wouldn’t,” the woman said.
“He might,” the serpent countered. “You wanted me to counsel you, and now I am telling you this: Be sensible. Stay safe.”
“I don’t believe you,” the woman said. She reached for the fruit again. The woman pulled the pomegranate from the tree, bit into it, and swallowed the rind, pulp and seeds.
The serpent squeezed its body tightly around the woman’s neck. “Now, you will die,” it said.
Part II continues the story...
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Our Lady of the Pomegranate
"In Christian iconographic paintings, the Virgin Mary often holds Persephone's pomegranate, symbolizing Mary's authority over the death of her son, much as Athena in her dark or gorgon-like moods upheld a pomegranate in her left hand....In Jewish lore it was again the fruit of things forbidden, growing upon the Tree of Knowledge (of sexuality & death) forbidden to Adam and Eve."--Paghat the Ratgirl
Leonardo's Madonna holding a pomegranate
Boticelli's Madonna holding a pomegranate
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Myth-O-Mania
I did some research on pomegranate seeds in fairy tales simply so I could have an excuse to post this picture of my new necklace. As soon as I saw the necklace, I thought of pomegranate seeds (though a friend of mine from the Midwest thought they looked more like corn kernels.) When I returned to the store to admire the necklace, I called Bede on the phone and asked, "May I have a present?"
"What is the present for?" he responded.
"For love," I said. In the background, the shop-keepers cheered.
"Yes," Bede said.
*
I could have written about the Persian story Simorgh, or talked about how there are 613 seeds in a pomegranate, and those seeds represent the 613 commandments in the Torah. Of course, there's always Hades and Persephone.
Poor Hades. Just because he is the Greek god of the Underworld, people think he's a dreary sort of chap, inclined to peevishness and able only to obtain a wife by kidnapping her. In the Myth-o-mania series, by Kate McMullan, Hades sets the record straight: Zeus was a wretched liar, Hera was the true boss of the gods, Cupid* was a pimply teenager who was waiting to grow out of adolescence before he showed himself to Psyche, and Persephone stowed away on Hades' chariot to get away from her mother constantly checking up on her every three minutes. During the beginning of my "reluctant reading" phase (soon after Lucia was born and I found I couldn't concentrate on books with my previous level of intensity), the Myth-O-Mania books were refreshing, funny, and easy to read in one sitting. The target age-group is for fourth and fifth graders who already have some familiarity with the Greek myths and are ready to read about the lighter side of Mount Olympus. If you're interested in reading these books but are not in the target age group, give into the temptation to read the books anyway. Later, you can always pick up Bullfinch's Mythology to help you return to serious scholarship, if that is what you desire.
*Cupid's name really is Eros, but his Italian mama calls him her "cupido."
***
Addendum: Although I wrote this post yesterday, I changed the date for today. It looks tidier this way. I'm still as thrilled with my pomegranate necklace as a six- year-old with her first pair of black patent leather shoes. The shoes have to click, of course, or the whole effect is lost. (No, I didn't have those shoes, but that's another story.)
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