D: Dendan

(also spelled Dandan)

In Arabic legend, the dendan is a monstrous fish--large enough to swallow an entire ship in a single gulp--who nonetheless dies if it hears a human voice. It makes an appearance in Book 9 of The Thousand and One Nights, in the tale of "Abdullah the Fisherman and Abdullah the Merman." The two Abdullahs meet when the fisherman catches the merman in his net. They somehow become business partners and eventually decide they should hang out for a while at the merman's home. Fat from the dendan is made into an ointment, which the fisherman uses to cover his body so he can breathe under water. As the two Abdullas are enjoying a feast together, a dendan comes swimming along. The fisherman shouts at it, and sure enough, it dies instantly. I'm sure that was a great relief to the merman, who had no such powers of...what exactly would that be called? Lethal monster voice?

The dendan/dandan also makes an appearance in the Magic: The Gathering card game, in the Arabian Nights expansion pack.

C: Cat Maiden

In this Aesop's fable, a cat fell in love with a young man, who in turn thought of her as, well, a cat. So she asked Venus for help. Being a good sport, and also the goddess of love and beauty, Venus turned the cat into a fair maiden. The young man was immediately smitten and wanted to marry her before she could even set up a Match profile. Upon further reflection, Venus began to wonder if the cat's nature had changed, or just its appearance. To find out--and because gods and goddesses were always messing with the poor, dumb humans--Venus let a mouse loose at the couple's wedding. (I'm pretty sure etiquette experts frown on this sort of thing.) The cat-maiden pounced on it, which grossed her new husband out to no end. Having found her answer, Venus turned the young woman back into a cat. The moral of this story being, true nature always wins out.

B: Bumba

In the African mythology of the Congo's Bushong people, Bumba was the creator god. He lived alone, and very lonely, in a universe of water until one day, after extreme stomach distress, he vomited up the sun, moon, and stars. The sun dried up the water, so Bumba then vomited eight animals: leopard, crested eagle, crocodile, fish, tortoise, heron, beetle, and goat. These animals went on to create many other animals. Finally, Bumba barfed out mankind and gave them laws, customs, and rulers. When Bumba was done with all this, he returned to his home in the sky. But he will occasionally visit mankind in dreams and visions.

(On what I assume is a completely unrelated note, when my firstborn was young, he named his beloved stuffed cat Bumba.)

Thanks for stopping by. Hope to "C" you tomorrow!

A: Aengus og

 

If you're Irish, this one might be familiar to you. In Celtic mythology, Aengus og  is the golden-harped god of love and beauty. Conceived and born in one day, he is described as attractive in both his looks and his nature. His kisses became invisible birds that whispered thoughts of love into the ears of young men and women. He drank the Ale of Immortality (bonus A for today!) brewed by Goibhniu, the god of the smith, which probably accounts for his eternal youthfulness. (Is it just me, or are the love gods/goddesses always young? I call ageism! Another A!) When Aengus traveled, four swans circled over him, which would have made it hard to sneak around without being noticed, I imagine.

Have a great day, and listen closely for those whispered thoughts of love...

See you tomorrow!

Blogging From A to Z Challenge 2018 Theme Reveal

Welcome! Like many writers and readers, I'm fascinated by the ways in which mythology and legend have shaped our lives since the very first story was told around the very first campfire all those many years ago.

My 2018 A-to-Z Challenge will include characters and concepts from world mythology and legend. But don't look for vampires and werewolves and Greek Gods, because I'm going to dig deeper and throw some obscure stuff at you. Hopefully, we will all come away with interesting information just right for tossing into casual conversation or weaving into a poem or piece of fiction. 

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope to see you again during the month of April! (By the way, the Romans named this month Aprilis, which is thought to be from the Latin verb aperire, meaning "to open". Makes sense, as this is the month in the northern hemisphere when trees and flowers start to do exactly that.)    

Repeat After Me

Last weekend, I had a couple of kitchen misfires (which is not at all unusual for me). First, I used a new gluten free flour blend for Swedish pancakes and ended up with a gummy mess. Then, I used a different shape of pan for my favorite coconut cake, and the result was...well, let's call it a sunken treasure.

"You should never change anything," said my dear husband. "You need a repeatable process."

I get that. I do. Especially coming from someone who has spent his whole career in a manufacturing industry...and has a favorite menu item in every restaurant because that way, he's never disappointed.

But I also firmly believe that if we don't ever make changes to a process, it can lead to stagnation, complacency, and a false confidence that we are doing everything right and have no need for improvement.

The internet abounds with articles and theories about creativity--what kind of thinking it requires, what situations support it, whether it can be learned or is innate. For me, everyday creativity isn't necessarily about a big new idea, though those are wonderful and exciting. It's about that extra nudge when my brain asks me, "Is this the best you can do?"

Sometimes, the answer is yes. In that case, my brain accepts that I am lazy, and, with an awkward parting glance, we move on to other things. Other times, I accept the challenge and try to stretch myself a little. The results are not always amazing, but I feel satisfied that at least I peeked around an unfamiliar corner to glimpse what waited there.

So, we need both: the framework of the repeatable process and the wiggle room to take a few chances within it. As Picasso said, "Learn the rules like a pro so you can break them like an artist."

Great advice, but I don't think I'll try to find out if it applies to Swedish pancakes.

It's New Month Resolution Day!

Happy March, everyone! Two months of 2018 are already in the books, and I keep thinking it's still 2017. That's how far behind I am. But I'm one of those people who believes every month is a chance to start fresh. It feels a lot more manageable than making resolutions on January 1st that are supposed to somehow keep their freshness and appeal for an entire calendar year. I have found that resolutions are rather like English muffins...after 30 days, they're pretty stale and need to be replaced.



So, goodbye failures of  February, and hello shiny, brand-new potential of March. Today, I will do my first-of-the-month rituals: flipping calendar pages, changing the photo in my "seasonal" frame, replacing the kitchen sponge, and committing myself to a few action items. Like most writers, I have overarching goals that don't vary much during the course of a year--or decade, or, probably, lifetime. But because I have a short attention span and am easily overwhelmed, it helps to break them down on a monthly basis into slightly different combinations. It's kind of like moving furniture. The room is basically the same, but with a new look. And possibly a new throw pillow. (Note to self: you do not need a new throw pillow.)

This month, I resolve to blog once a week, submit (something, somewhere) once a week, and increase my social media participation. Oh, yes, and write!

Before I go, here's an interesting tidbit about March 2018: it will have two full moons, one on the 1st, and the second on the 31st. It seems to me that those celestial bookends should be very good for writers. Because, you know. Books.