Sunday, August 23, 2009

Ophelia's Curse

The Rite of Lilith is a Tantric and magical ceremony of Chthonic working, as the true archetype of Lilith is sex and death. Lilith is embodied by metaphysical and mystical origins of diverse ancient cultures. Adored and feared by mortals as the Sumerian Lilitu {also the Hand of Inanna}, Babylonian Lamashtû {Daughter of Anu}, Akkadian Ardat-lili, the Hellenistic Hecate, or the Hindu Kali, it is black Lilith whom enshrouds over our eyes the Veil of Death. She is the personification of the Scarlet Woman. Those who transcend psychosexual modes of deviance, and overcome religious memes will breed new paradigms, and a new race, a new psychology, a new code of genetics completely unknown to contemporary Man. Her womb produces only those whose veins retain Her Imperial blood…and hidden words. Man trembles at the thought of the Scarlet Woman as sexual rival. A true initiated Brother sees the Scarlet Woman with Heaven’s eye of blood.

Lilith, in all her mythic emulations, and cultural prototypes, is not here to ‘prune’ the sexual mania of Man. She is here to harvest it! In the seeds of sperm and ovum, the psychosexual and cultural lineage of Lilith retains Imperial Blood. The curse of Ophelia will be known to all Mankind. The Rite of Lilith presents to the reader a device to prospect unexplored, uncharted psychological and religious memes of the Goddess dominant. Lilith’s Rite is a chthonic reenactment of Sumerian and Akkadian mythos, designed to embed in the psyche memes equal to patrilineal religious pantheons, with the sacred feminine as Initiator and Fiat of Mankind’s “salvation.”

I'll come back to Lillith in the future, as well as Ophelia...

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;....
--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
Good my lord,
How does your honour for this many a day?
I humbly thank you; well, well, well.
My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver;
I pray you, now receive them.
No, not I;
I never gave you aught.
My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;
And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed
As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
Take these again; for to the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.
Ha, ha! are you honest?
My lord?
Are you fair?
What means your lordship?
That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should
admit no discourse to your beauty.
Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than
with honesty?
Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
force of honesty can translate beauty into his
likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
time gives it proof. I did love you once.
Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
it: I loved you not.
I was the more deceived.
Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.
If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for
thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as
snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a
nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs
marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough
what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go,
and quickly too. Farewell.
O heavenly powers, restore him!
I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God
has given you one face, and you make yourselves
another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and
nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness
your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath
made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages:
those that are married already, all but one, shall
live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a
nunnery, go.


O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

....personally, i liked Stiles' portrayal best, even though I don't like her as an actress nor any of her movies. Winslet close second. I actually never saw an actress portray Ophelia the way I saw her but...she's different in every woman.

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