Why Am I Blogging Like Crazy? I think I have quite the story for an answer. It is best told by alluding to Rimsky Korsakov’s Scheherazade Opus 35, a Symphonic Poem. The sultan, Schariar, took a vow to put all his wives to death after the nuptial night. He thought that all women were false and faithless. Scheherazade developed a tactic to keep herself alive. Every night she would tell the sultan a story that was so fascinating that he couldn’t wait for the next night for another story. After 1001 nights, the Sultan repudiated his vow and kept his wife alive and quite well. Why 1001 nights? We have a mystical number that is the product of three highly charged numbers: 7 x 11 x 13 = 1001. My book of preference for this part of the blog is The Mystery of Numbers by Annemarie Schimmel.
Shakespeare refers to the 7 ages of man. Countless writers have discussed changes in life every 7 years. Maybe that’s where the myth of 7 years of bad luck comes from from breaking a mirror? The Torah states that that seventh generation after Adam, Lamech appears. He lived 777 years and would be avenged 77 fold (Gen 4:24).
Eleven is the number of the sacred marriage between heaven and earth. Heaven = 5 (yin). Earth = 6 (yang). 5 + 6 = 11. In the medieval ages these qualities were symbolized flowers: The rose has 5 strong petals and the lily has six.
Finally thirteen is a powerful mystical number. Paul Hoffman talks about it in the Smithsonian Magazine, February, 1987. He states it: “costs Americans a billion dollars a year in absenteeism, train and plane cancellations and reduced commerce on the thirteenth of the month.”
Conclusion: Why Am I Blogging Like Crazy? There are so many great things to be blogging about. Perhaps when I reach 1001 blogs, I’ll stop? Certainly if I did, It would be paying tribute to Scheherazade and the great Russian composer, Rimsky-Korsakov. Please keep watching for my poetry book, the Oquaga Spirit Speaks. The book will be posted as a product on DSOworks.com. Its some 100 pages of poetry and pictures were given and dictated to me by a female spirit from the Lennie Lenape tribe on Oquaga Lake. The book parallels Thoreau’s Walden, except it is in poetic verse.
Here’s a sneak preview in Early in August: “Leaves are full of holes; By bugs they’ve been quite eaten. They flap in gusts of wind like flags all weather beaten.” The poems were all written on the lake in the Catskill Mountains where her tribe, the Lennie Lenape lived.