A Dissertation:
We Will Not Find Supernatural Trickery
November 11, this year
Upper Priest Lake, Idaho
8:01 pm PST
It takes thirty or so minutes for Astrid and Marcel to cross the dark grass between the trees and the rising pyramid cap. As they approach, a memory floods Astrid’s mind. She can hear one of her professors, Dr. Geoff Herzog. He compliments her.
“Concrete, Astrid. Concrete work.” Astrid stares at the cover sheet to her dissertation lying on his desk. “You’ve based your study on reality and history and used the motifs as they should be used—myths should instruct and entertain. I particularly like the way you treat literal interpretation of miracles and supernatural claims. If only humanity as a collective would stop for a moment, take a good look at the stories and compare them to the world as we know it. Did God create it all? I mean, really?” He points to a newspaper clipping tacked to a bulletin board behind him. “Gallup survey—fifteen per cent of Americans believe we evolved through natural selection alone. Fifteen per cent? Fifteen. Sweet baby Jesus!”
Astrid listens. Nods. Fully aware of those still caught in the snare of ancient belief. “Evolution steals our souls,” she says quietly. “No one wants that.”
“Darwin, the soul killer,” the professor shakes his head, “the God killer.” His fingers tap the cover sheet. “Another piece I enjoyed was your use of the apple. How it served as a symbol of knowledge for both Adam and Eve, and for Newton, as well.”
“Yes,” Astrid smiles. “Only the affect of Newton’s apple is provable. And far more useful.”
“Well, whatever the case,” he laughs, rising to walk Astrid to the door, “I suppose we should be thankful that we no longer blame God for lightening strikes as our ancestors once surely did. It is just a matter of time before all the superstitious nonsense is weeded out. Your work, Astrid, is bridging the old and the new. You’re showing us that the belief in Thor’s hammer and his lightening was the first step to finding lightning’s true origin.”
“We’re evolving,” Astrid agrees. “Maybe in a few years that Gallup survey will hit 50 per cent.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Finnley.”
“Good afternoon, Doctor.”
Outside the door Astrid lowers her face and reads the cover sheet to her dissertation:
The Need For
A New Human Narrative
presented to
The Faculty of the Department of Mythology and
Religious Studies at Gonzaga University
In partial fulfillment
Of the requirements for the degree
PhD of Mythology and Psychology
by
Astrid Finnley
August 2007
Clive Wadden, PhD., Chair
Geoff Herzog, PhD.
Sharon Butterworth, PhD.
Keywords: Greek, Sumerian, Egyptian, Jewish,
Christian, Celtic, Itonalya, Native American:
Mythologies, Civic Religion, Mystery
Religion, World Civic Cults, Demeter, Dionysus,
Yafarra, Orpheus, Wyn Avuqua.
ABSTRACT
Given humankind’s internal struggle against its existential demise, no time in history has witnessed the collateral damage of the conflict as acutely as the present. Diagnosed depression, anxiety and mental illness cases have reached epidemic proportions. Recent recorded suicides, nearly one million per year, point to a soul sickness within society and suggest that the old narratives humans have used to provide some meaning or hope that existence in some way matters no longer possess the power they once did. With the failing of these old narratives (ancient myths, religion, and economic and political structures), and facing the rapid evolution of technological advancement, humanity now stands at a crossroad between the old gods promising pearly gates and everlasting life versus the cold, scientific scalpel that cuts belief from reality —cuts the soul from existence itself. Somewhere in between, humanity is in need of a narrative that marries the power of the gods of lore with the evidential basis of the universe as we come to understand it. What can we discover about the supernatural, fantastical fictions of myth? How does the power and magic of ancient narrative affect us to this day? Can they be used to provide some insight into present day’s concrete, silicon reality. It was said that death would come to a mortal if he were to behold Zeus in his full glory. This dissertation proposes that we are now staring into Zeus’ eyes. Into the eye of Thi. What we see there is perhaps too much for some. But if we hold the gaze of the god king, we will not find supernatural trickery, no dead rising from the grave, immortality, no serpent tempting Eve, the Red Sea parting or the transportation from one pyramid to another. If we stare long enough we will understand that the bloody and ugly millennia from the burning bush to the Hubble telescope merely constitute the birthday of humanity’s new narrative. This new narrative will show god and its magical hand within the universe we discover around us; how stories of the fantastic have allowed us to reach for the stars —and to touch them. The magic is in the stories, alone.
“Ready?” Marcel asks, turning and offering his hand to Astrid as she climbs the last stone to the apex.
“Do you want me to say it, or do you want to say it?”
“I think you should say it.” His red hair shines dully in the starlight. “You never have. You never believed. We walk across the top and you say it. Okay? You say it.”
Astrid extends her hand to him. He takes it. She squeezes. “Remember what Eastman said? She told Rearden to walk slow and with caution.”
“Yes. Okay.”
All along her arms and legs rise goosebumps—as if she is staring down into frigid lake water and being encouraged to dive.
“Say it like you mean it, Prof. You’ve got to mean the word. Elliqui. Mean it.”
She takes her first step.
She waits for the shock of cold.
After she speaks the word Lonwayro, a dull but sudden light illuminates the low clouds. The face of Zeus, she thinks. The face of Zeus.
We will not find supernatural trickery.
The air is somehow thick. Distant engines drone. Some obstacle bars the movement of her forward leg. She tastes the sea.
They are no longer in Idaho.
