This is a Standing stone, marking a slate grave from the time, when the druid cult was dominant in our neighborhood. The photo was taken shortly before sundown a week ago. A burnt down church can be spotted in the background.
The standing stones are also known for being phallic symbols. Wow, our landscape are full of them.
The Ulysses also has many sexual references, some placed there by James Joyce, even more found and interpreted by students of literature.
Sexuality is what makes generations coming and going.
As long as it's not obscene or exploiting, I see nothing wrong in that.
The chapter called "Lotus Eaters" is amongst others about escapism.
Also it is about entheology; meaning what's making God to be inside a person.
This may refer to plants or substances eaten by ancient religious people in order to come close to divinity.
Our Christian Holy communion is in Bloom's world, (and in fact also in the Christian's), eating the body of Christ and drinking his blood, our mysterious way of keeping this connection with the Holy. It would have been easier, and less offensive, celebrating Christ in a more"normal" way, with prayers, even dressed in ashes and sacks. However, this is God's way of letting us know how small we are, and how powerful he is..
Leopold Bloom's in particular; in this chapter he literally is walking in a circle, never getting any of his small errands thoroughly done.
I've had those nightmares myself, feels like walking in syrup, hardly moving at all.
Thinking about it, I've been doing the sleep walk, while seemingly awake, but never seeming to get anywhere. "Life is something happening, while you're busy making other plans."
The lotus eaters of Homer gave Odysseus' men lotus petals to eat, and thus made them forget that their aim was sailing to their homeland, Ithaca.
To Leopold Bloom the lotus is a narcotic substance; a cigar is mentioned.
Bloom is a Jew, but not kosher, when it comes to eating.
In this chapter he casually enters a church, and watch from outside the congregation receiving the holy communion.His mind is swirling around, half critically, half indifferently. He has many accurate observations, but somehow he constantly avoids getting deeper engaged.
He's not superficial; he's confused, procrastinating, walking the whole circle through, many question asked, no answers given so far.
From Lotus Eaters:
"The cold smell of sacred stone called him. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swing door and entered softly by the rere.
Something going on: some sodality. Pity so empty. Nice discreet place to be next to some girl. Who is my neighbor? Jammed by the hour to slow music. That woman at midnight mass. Seventh heaven. Women knelt in the benches with crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. A batch knelt at the altar rails. The priest went along by them, murmuring, holding the thing in his hands. He stopped at each, took out a communion, shook a drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it neatly into her mouth. Her hat and head sank. Then the next one: a small old woman. The priest bent down to put it into her mouth, murmuring all the time. Latin. The next one. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. What? Corpus. Body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupefies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it; only swallow it down. Rum idea: eating bits of a corpse why the cannibals cotton to it.
He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by one, and seek their places. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, nursing his hat and newspaper. These pots we have to wear. We ought to have hats modeled on our heads. They were about him here and there, with heads still bowed in their crimson halters, waiting for it to melt in their stomachs. Something like those mazzoth: it's that sort of bread: unleavened shew bread. Look at them. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. Lollipop. It does. Yes, bread of angels it's called. There's a big idea behind it, kind of kingdom of God is within you feel. First communicants. Hokypoky penny a lump. Then feel all like one family party, same in the theater, all in the same swim. They do. I'm sure of that. Not so lonely. In our confraternity. Then come out a big spreeish. Let off steam. Thing is if you really believe in it. Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. "
(James Joyce)
I find no mocking in it; just the eternal wondering, twisting and turning and triple bottoms.
I guess, one finds, what one is looking for most of the time.
"Search and you shall find," Jesus said.
Originated by MaryT, check hers for today
