#Reburying Rituals

[hyperfocusthusly]

Crashing down

Read on A03 here

Crowley woke up late, from the moment his eyes opened the day felt wrong. He groans and reburies himself in the duvet. Eventually he emerges in the late afternoon, the sense of wrongness persists squirming under his skin and making him irritable. Aziraphale notices, of course, Crowley notes him peering around bookshop shelves, fiddling with his rings and offering tea slightly more often than necessary while Crowley engages in his usual, and favourite, activity of scaring away would be customers with a little more venom than normal.

“Are you alright dear?” Aziraphale appears somewhere behind his left shoulder, a gentle press on his lower back soothes the nagging feeling pulling at the back of his eyes. He raises a hand and rubs his temple.

“Just feel a bit off angel, nothing to worry yourself with”

“Maybe a walk would do you some good, bit of fresh air?”

He suspected it wouldn’t, but anything to abate the radiating worry from behind him.

The walk, as it happened, took him as far as Nina’s coffee shop. In the years since he and Aziraphale finally were able to settle in the bookshop they had developed some kind of ‘mutually grumpy half of the pairing’ friendship. He pushes open the door to find an enormous mug waiting for him, she had seen him coming and automatically prepared his usual. He miracled out far too much for a single coffee and passed it to her. The dull pain behind his eyes had sharpened in the street, but eased a little in the relative gloom of the coffee shop in the late afternoon haze. He took his normal seat in the back corner sipping his coffee and willing himself to calm down.

“Are you alright?”

Nina. She looked concerned.

“You’re just looking a little pinched, more than normal, I mean”

A small hum is all he manages, the feeling is intensifying the coffee shop suddenly feeling small and repressive, the air thick and sticky in his throat. He stands, abruptly, the chair skittering away behind him.

“Something bad…” he murmurs,

“I need some air”

Nina watches him leave, slightly unsteadily, and wonders if she should call Aziraphale, what do demons consider a bad thing anyway?

The air outside is cooler, the autumn evening revealing the best of itself in a crisp breeze. He sighs. The feeling is still there, clawing at the back of his throat, demanding to be felt. He glances up and down the street, nothing. No angel hoard, no lurking demons, nothing out of place.

The chime of the record shop bell catches his attention as Maggie comes out of her shop. She waves to him as she sets out to cross the road, on her way to walk Nina home, as always. Nina clinks the lock on the door to the coffee shop and steps out beside him, ready for the evening ritual.

The unease sharpens, pulls at his senses.

Moments pass, tiny, inconsequential, flickering past until he sees it, suddenly, horribly and with perfect clarity.

The car skids around the corner, careening wildly, directly towards Maggie.

And before he can raise his hand, it hits her. She disappears under it and the world stops. Crowley has seen a lot of things on his time on earth, death and destruction wreak havoc here constantly, but not here, not now, not in this corner of the world they had carved out for themselves. Not to his friends.

Nina’s screams pulls him back and he’s raising his hands before the first step is complete. He reaches out for the tenterhooks of time and grips them, feeling the power screech along the nerves of his corporation, wrapping around his wrists like burning white ropes.

He pulls, time screams at him it’s done, it’s done.

He pulls harder.

“No,” grits his teeth, refusing to back down, “you will obey me.” It begins to relent, winding back, slowly, too slowly for the affect its having on him. As the car runs back he feels something in his head pop, his corporation is shaking under the pressure of the metaphysical form pressing through. Nearly, nearly there. The car is pulled back, Maggie is upright. His body is screaming, but she is safe.

With one last push, he sends the car screeching up the road and lets go, the ropes slip away, searing away the skin in their path.

The world returns briefly, a fades away just as fast. He feels suddenly heavy, exhaustion pours over him as the damage to his corporation makes itself known. He’s loosely aware that he’s falling, legs unable to hold themselves up any longer.

He’s also aware that he’s caught, a gentle heat against the cold crawling over him. He’s going to discorporate he thought, he wonders how he’ll explain this one to Hell, how long it will take to get a new corporation, to get back home, he hears the scrape of metal across asphalt, the cold rush of death breezing closer.

Everything is fading, it’s happening, sounds blurring together until something rings through with crystal clarity.

“You will not be needed here today”

He recognises the voice, of course he does, the only constant of 6,000 years on earth, how could he not.

The numbing cold is replaced gently by warmth, things begin to knit themselves back together and he suddenly feels calm.

Aziraphale is here, and he is safe.

—————————————————-

Aziraphale feels time stop outside the bookshop, he drops the books he’s holding and rushes towards the door, trying to keep the icy fear from over taking him. The door pushes open with some effort, time is holding out here, sticking to him and making movement difficult. He emerges on the street in time to see Crowley, face taut with effort, extend his arm and throw a car sideways. He reaches out his own arm and forces the air out of the tyres, grinding it to a halt.

He turns as the world zips back into life, released from the hold it had been trapped in, turns to see Crowley crumple to the floor, barely caught by Nina.

A cold sweeps down the street as a figure emerges from a side road. Black cloak sweeping, Scythe scraping your torturously across the asphalt.

No no

He’s running again, desperate to get to Crowley before the figure. He drops to the floor, into an atmosphere clouded by pain, distress emanating from crowleys alarmingly still form, theres blood running from his ears painting the skin of his unnaturally pale face, dark black bruises forming under his closed eyes. He reaches out again, feeling for the damage.

He spares a look upwards, meets the gaze of empty sockets and spits out “you will not be needed here today.”

He refocuses all of his energy on pulling back together the parts of the broken body in front of him. Breathing becomes steadier, a heart rate less erratic.

Somewhere around him he dully hears the squawking of crows, another gust of icy wind and then, finally, the warmth of the autumn sun.

Death was gone, Crowley was safe.

#I don’t know what this is #and consequently #you won’t either #no beta we fall like Crowley #this has consumed me for the last 24 hours so here you go #did I take liberties with crowley’s time powers? yes I did #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #Nina #tw: mcd #so briefly #blink and you’ll miss it #Maggie #ineffable husbands #although #can be read platonic #Maggie x nina #crowley x aziraphale #Aziraphale x Crowley #aziracrow #my writing #fanfic #good omens fanfic

[legend-collection]

vengeful Ghost

In mythology and folklore, a vengeful ghost or vengeful spirit is said to be the spirit of a dead person who returns from the afterlife to seek revenge for a cruel, unnatural or unjust death. In certain cultures where funeral and burial or cremation ceremonies are important, such vengeful spirits may also be considered as unhappy ghosts of individuals who have not been given a proper funeral.

The concept of a vengeful ghost seeking retribution for harm that it endured as a living person goes back to ancient times and is part of many cultures. According to such legends and beliefs, they roam the world of the living as restless spirits, seeking to have their grievances redressed, and may not be satisfied until they have succeeded in punishing either their murderers or their tormentors.

In certain cultures vengeful ghosts are mostly female, said to be women that were unjustly treated during their lifetime. Such women or girls may have died in despair or the suffering they endured may have ended up in early death caused by the ill-treatment or torture they were subject to.

Exorcisms and appeasement are among the religious and social customs practiced by various cultures in relation to the vengeful ghost. The northern Aché people group in Paraguay cremated old people thought to harbor dangerous vengeful spirits instead of giving them a customary burial. In cases where the person has been killed and the body disposed of unceremoniously, the cadaver may be exhumed and reburied according to the proper funerary rituals in order to appease the spirit. Another option is to salt and burn their remains (bones).

#vengeful ghost #global

[moonlightsmasquerade]

How To Bring A Witch Back From The Dead

{Found this after my mom went through a really bad episode of screaming and crying and ripped half the pages of her magic book. Was the only thing that really interested me, so I decided to glue them to my own book. Who knows, I might need it in the future}

[p.s - Shadana lived in the 17th century and her name in archaic means "born in shadows" which is just a really fancy way of saying "born on a starless night"]

-----------

To bring someone back from the dead is extremely tempting , that I'll admit , but one of the rules of the dead is that : one can only be brought back into existence if they wished to be so before dying . Since most humans are unaware that that is a possibility , this rule pretty much only applies to monsters nowadays , and even then , different species means different methods .

The reason I now write this is due to an occurrence earlier this week , where such a thing as ressurrection was asked of me by a witch , a lonely witch at that . Though it is easy to mess up me and my family as being witches , it is important to remember the signs that distinguish us .

That day I was forced to look through the personal records of my centuries old ancestor Shadana , and as you can imagine her book was in a very delicate condition , that being the reason I have to copy and translate her instructions by hand instead of just using a copying spell .

Thus here it is , if I or any mysterious reader need it , the steps to bring a witch back to life .

Step 1 - Understanding

Make sure that the night you perform the ressurrection is that of a New Moon , or else it simply will not work . This will , hopefully , give you enough time to collect all the ingredients you will need , and to prepare yourself both mentally and magically . If the next New Moon is only within weeks , you must remain with the dead body and not allow it to be buried . Consider perhaps embalming the cadaver , or use some magical ritual or spells to prevent or slow down the decaying of the body . Anyone can still be revived even if their body has started to rot , but it would not exactly be the most pleasant sensation , now would it?

Remember : a New Moon night is the perfect time to bring forth change , so you must use such energy to your advantage . The power of the moon is to set loose hidden emotions , instincts and habits , thus the reason the majority of monsters only come out of hiding at night , so also keep in mind that this is why a ressurrection can only occur after sundown .

Step 2 - Location and time

You need to have everything prepared in time for the ressurrection to occur at midnight , when the current day is overtaken by a new one , and before the New Moon disappears from view . As for where it shall take place , you must find the point where four roads meet , which should not be that difficult of a task , as there are many inside the forests that people only use during the day , but preferably one far away from the borders of the woods and with clear view to the sky .

Ingredients :

1- To get the most unpleasant task out of the way : you will need a dead infant's bones , more specifically bones around the area of the abdomen , which I call "navel string bone" [translation note: umbilical cord] for simplicity. Use whatever objects you want to get the bones out , but remember , it must be the most recent burial possible , and you will have to rebury the infant as soon as you get all the bones you think you will need .

2- Afterwards you will need to gather the following ingredients : an inch of solid silver , jasmine flowers , willow leaves and hardwood tree mushrooms. [translation note: reishi mushrooms]

3- Before starting the preparations for the ressurrection , make sure you will be in the company of eight crows and one raven . Whether you have a magical connection to these birds yourself , or you will have to request the help of an experienced witch during the ritual , the specific details do not matter as long as you reach the goal . Not only will their supernatural presence help reinforce the idea of an altering experience in someone else's existence , but they will also be important for the next step .

4- You will need to have a large number of moths surrounding the area during the ritual itself . Currently the most effective way to attract them is by lighting several candles that have been covered in honey and sugar or fruit juice . But as you can already imagine , almost anything that attracts moths will also attract other kinds of insects , some of which are undesirable for the magical process , thus you will need the help of the raven and the crows . A single offering of corn can be enough to convince them to help you get rid of the unwanted company , and do not worry , they will not harm the moths during the entire ressurrection .

Ressurrection ritual :

Place the witch's body in the middle point of the four roads , and make a full circle around them with the jasmine flowers and willow leaves , with enough space between the plants and the body for you to move around . Following that , place the hardwood tree mushrooms you collected at the base of their feet and neck , and the navel string bones above where their heart should be .

Next , preferably with a needle , make a small cut on the lowest mount of the witch's middle finger , for it symbolizes the connection with the material world that we live in . With the blood from that cut , draw a pentagram at the center of their forehead , and once it is finished place the tiny bit of silver in the middle of the star . To stop the bleeding once you're finished , you can use any method , really , but I recommend applying honey to the wound to help it heal faster .

With everything now set in place , invoque your magic and recite the following :

"Fore thou who sleeps in earth and clay, heed this calleth, rise up once again, treck on through the spirits' door, assemble flesh and walketh once more"

Repeat it for as many times as needed until you are shown some sort of sign , whatever it might be , that the witch's soul has returned to their body .

Post Ressurrection Days :

Although ressurrection requires that the person being revived wanted to be brought back to begin with , it can still be disorienting , so you will need to stay by the witch's side for at least a week , until all of their senses and powers have returned to them . I was never one for emotions, so I think saying that you need to be there for them is enough .

I do, however, have some advice on more physical ways that you can help them .

One - Cook them some hardwood tree mushroom soup , if well cooked it is great to keep someone calm , plus it helps the breathing and to focus . And make sure you cook it in a cauldron , because no matter the monster species most who have been ressurrected quickly get empty stomach hungry , so you might want to prepare yourself for lots of servings .

Two - Prepare them a special coffee , one that doesn't have any actual coffee beans . Rather it is made with ginger and cinnamon to help bring back their magical strenght . Make sure they do not drink too much of it though , because it might end up hurting them internally .

Be careful but have fun , mystery reader

~Shadana Ferstar

------------

{I think Shadana was a good person, even if she sounds a bit not-so-sympathetic at times}

Gabe says : I knew her, she was friends with the apprentice of one of my devotees

Nora says : Ooooo what was she like then?

Gabe says : Maybe it's best not to tell right now, you're just a child

Nora says : >:(

(Sorry that it turned out so large lol) -Wand Anon

OHOHOHO this sounds so cool! I love the details you put into the rituals, all the nature connections, its so neat. I like the little notes about the moon (I've got some ideas for how the moon effects things in canon though my focus was on the full moon, I like yours being about the new moon! Plus I already like the idea of the moon effecting magic and rituals, so its neat to me)

Also, love the tidbit about post resurrection care, I think its a neat idea! In the canon of mim I've got so far no ones spent too long being dead, so I like seeing your interpretation of how to help out someone who did spend a while being dead

#also in mim currently its harder to ressurect humans and have them come back human #so ressurecting a witch is way easier #ressurected humans are gonna end up undead (ghoul zombie etc) #gah love it! so cool

[artsandoddities]

In the latest Hogback Saga update I delve into the mythic and ritual associations of a Viking home. A prayer to the Dísir is sung as they rebury the remains of some of their family under the hearth of a new hall

The main ceiling beam is called the Ás (God) beam and rests on the Dwarf beams connecting the hall as a microcosm of the Norse cosmos

(This was inspired by the paper Hof Halls Gods and Dwarves An Examination of the Ritual Space in the Pagan Icelandic Hall by Terry Gunnell)

To read the story so far and some more background info on the mythological influences check out my patreon

#vikings #pagan #heathen #norse mythology #comic #art

[ta9158234]

The mass grave

In November 2008, Mikhail Beketov was attacked and brutally beaten. He spent the next 18 months in hospitals, where doctors removed the shattered skull fragments that pierced his brain and amputated his right foot and three fingers on his left hand. He spent the rest of his short life confined to a wheelchair, barely able to speak. Five years later, Beketov died.

The journalist’s assailants were never identified. Beketov suggested that Khimki Mayor Yuri Korablin may have been behind the attack. Several months earlier, he had started receiving threats, and in 2007 someone set fire to his car. Beketov said the intimidation was linked to his critical news reporting about construction projects approved by the city.

From 1994 to 2001, Mikhail Beketov served as the press secretary for Khimki Mayor Yuri Korablin. After leaving office, he used his own resources to launch Khimkinskaya Pravda, an opposition newspaper that was highly critical of the city’s new mayor, Vladimir Strelchenko. Beginning in 2007, Khimkinskaya Pravda covered various local conflicts, including the battle to preserve the Khimki Forest. The newspaper made a name for itself with a series of articles about the reburial of the remains of six military pilots from a mass grave located in a public square near the Leningrad Highway.

The authorities in Khimki justified the mass grave’s relocation as necessary for the expansion of the Leningradskoye Highway (though journalists also reported that officials were concerned about prostitutes working in the same public square, supposedly “defiling the memory of Russia’s fallen war heroes”). Local activists argued that the pilots’ remains were moved to free up land for the construction of a new shopping center. After reporting by Khimkinskaya Pravda, national TV networks and other activists started paying attention to the story about the mass grave.

Mikhail Beketov wrote that tractors were used to pull up the soldiers’ graves, and the men’s bones were tossed into plastic bags. Some of the remains were apparently lost. On network television, Beketov shared photographs he’d taken at the former site of the mass grave, showing what appeared to be human bones lying around. Because of the newspaper’s coverage, and because Beketov accused him of destroying his car, Mayor Strelchenko filed a defamation lawsuit against Khimkinskaya Pravda’s founder.

Today, business centers occupy the forested space for which Beketov gave his life. After the public controversy, however, Khimki’s authorities stopped short of building up the territory completely (though the land was already demarcated on the city’s estate map), and officials limited development to the roadside area. A year after the pilots were reburied, a business center was built a few hundred yards from the former site of the mass grave. The building belongs to Evgeny Golovkin, the son of Nikolai Golovkin, who managed Moscow’s Main Internal Affairs Directorate from 2001 to 2014. The companies that eventually took up residence at Golovkin’s business center include several businesses then owned by the wife of Vyacheslav Nyrkov, the head of “Ritual-Khimki” (the enterprise that was responsible for reburying the pilots).

[reasoningdaily]

The holiday, first called Decoration Day, started after the Civil War in America, and was observed to honor the memory of the Union and Confederate soldiers who had died during the conflict. It wasn’t until the 20th century that Memorial Day observances were extended to honor all service members serving in all wars.

History books have always said the first observances of Decoration Day started during and after the Civil War. And a number of cities lay claim to having the first observance, from Warrenton, Virginia, on June 3, 1861, when a wreath was laid at a Civil War soldier’s grave, to a well documented story of the ladies of Savannah, Georgia putting flowers on Confederate grave in 1862.

John A. Logan and family (l-r: wife Mary Simmerson Cunningham Logan, son Manning Alexander Logan, Logan, daughter Mary Elizabeth Logan AKA “Dollie”), circa 1870.

Brady-Handy Photograph Collection (Library of Congress)

Interestingly, almost all our history texts credit the founding of Memorial Day to one man, a white former Union Army Major General, John A. Logan, who in 1868 called for a Decoration Day to be observed annually and nationwide.

The Decoration Day history forgot – “The Martyrs of the Racecourse” The wars we have today seem very far away, always in someone else’s country. We are not aware of the scale of death and destruction that war brings in its wake. For us, war is a video on the television screen. But in Charleston, South Carolina in April of 1865, the ruins of the long conflict were evident everywhere.

The port city of Charleston is where the Civil War started in April, 1861, but by the spring of 1865, the city was nearly deserted of its white population. The first Union troops to enter the city and march up Meeting Street were the Twenty-First U. S. Colored Infantry, and it was their commander who accepted the formal surrender of Charleston that day.

Meeting street and Queen, at the end of the Civil War. This is the very street in Charleston, the Twenty First U.S. Colored Infantry came marching down in the spring of 1865.

George N. Barnard (1819 – 1902)

While the city may have been deserted by most of the white folks, there were over 10,000 freed slaves who gathered to greet the Union Army. The story goes that these freedmen and women dug up a mass grave containing the bodies of 257 dead Union soldiers, only to rebury them on May 1, 1865 in a cleaned up and landscaped burial ground.

They built an archway with a placard that said “Martyrs of the Race-Course,” and buried the bodies with a ritualized remembrance celebration, attended by thousands of people, white and black. The ceremony was covered by the New York Tribune and other national newspapers of that day.

Who were these freed slaves of Charleston, S.C.? Who were these freed slaves? Why would they take the trouble to honor a bunch of white soldiers? Let’s go back to the early colonial period in Charleston, when fully one-quarter of the all the slaves brought into this country came through the city. As the official end to the slave trade was coming on, more than 90,000 slaves were brought into Charleston between 1801 and the official end of the American slave trade in 1808.

For those people who have visited Charleston and Myrtle Beach, you will know something of the Low Country, its cuisine and the dialect spoken by many of the residents. In colonial times, the area of South Carolina along the coast, including the Sea Islands was known for its rice and indigo production, as well as its Sea Island cotton.

The Low Country was all the land from the fall line to the sea shore, a region of marshes, with cypress trees draped in moss, stagnant water full of mosquitoes and other diseases. Today, visitors can look in on restored plantations with wooden walkways that take in the swamps and you might even see a few alligators.

African slaves unloading rice barges at a South Carolinian rice plantation. (J. G. Holland Scribner’s Monthly, An Illustrated Magazine for the People (New York, NY: Scribner & Co., 1874)

Clipart courtesy FCIT

But in colonial times and on up to the start of the Civil War, Low Country crops were tended by African slaves, and not just any African slave would do. They were the Gullah people from the rice-growing regions of West Africa and the Congo-Angola region of Central Africa. Plantation owners prized these slaves because of their knowledge in rice-growing, a very lucrative crop that made millions of dollars for the white owners.

The Gullah people remained at the plantations during the hot and humid summer rice-growing months when white owners took their families inland to cooler areas to avoid malaria, yellow fever, and cholera, so rampant at that time of year. A few white overseers and a few trusted black men were left in charge. Because of the isolation of the huge plantations, the Gullah developed their own language, a unique blend of African and English, as well as a religion that also blended African ritual with Christian beliefs.

Screen shot of cemetery at race track constructed by freed slaves of Charleston. Circa 1865.

Dan Welch, Education Programs Coordinator for the Gettysburg Foundation, delivers his winter lecture, “Martyrs of the Race Course – The Forgotten Decoration Day.”

Gettysburg NPS

But that was not all the Gullah people gave to this fledgling country. Besides a unique cultural tradition, they also created their own Low Country cuisine that visitors discover and come to love today. But more importantly, their culture, rituals and traditions, especially the way they honored their ancestors and those who had died in battle were passed on to the next generations.

The first Decoration Day arrives It was the Gullah people that showed the most resistance to being enslaved, and who most enthusiastically embraced freedom when it was given to them. David W. Blight is a professor of American history at Yale University. He described the race track where the burial and honoring of the Union soldiers took place in 1865.

He tells the story like this; during the final year of the Civil War, the Confederates had converted the planters’ horse track, the Washington Race Course and Jockey Club, into an outdoor prison. Like Andersonville, the conditions at the prison were horrific, and about 257 Union prisoners died of disease and exposure. The bodies were thrown in a mass grave behind the grandstand.

The grandstand for the Washington Race Track were designed by Charles F. Reichardt in the 1830s. Union soldiers who died in the prison camp were thrown into a mass grave behind the grandstand.

Library of Congress

At the end of the war, some 28 black workmen went to the site of the mass grave, dug up the bodies, reburying the dead properly. A high whitewashed fence was built around the cemetery, and the archway was constructed over the entrance with the words “Martyrs of the Race Course.”

Here is what Professor Blight says happened on May 1, 1865: Then, black Charlestonians in cooperation with white missionaries and teachers, staged an unforgettable parade of 10,000 people on the slaveholders’ race course. The symbolic power of the low-country planter aristocracy’s horse track (where they had displayed their wealth, leisure, and influence) was not lost on the freedpeople. A New York Tribune correspondent witnessed the event, describing “a procession of friends and mourners as South Carolina and the United States never saw before.”

For over 50 some odd years, white Charlestonians tried to suppress the memory of that first Decoration Day, but the memory has been rediscovered and has a certain amount of profound meaning, if not the fact that it has been brought back into its historical context. The race track is still there, although in the 1880s the Union soldier’s bodies were moved to Beaufort National Cemetery, and remain there today.

A few years ago, the city of Charleston and the state government authorized plans for a historical marker in Hampton Park to honor the first Dedication Day. Harlan Greene, director of archival and reference services at Avery, said the time is right; “Charleston has begun to recognize its African-American history.”

“We’re approaching a tipping point,” Greene said. “The irony of the story is that Charleston is the cradle of the Confederacy, but the memorial was for Union soldiers. It shows the richness of Charleston history.”

#Freed slaves observed the country’s first Memorial Day #decoration day started in america by freed African Americans #freedmen holidays #south carolina decoration day #reconstruction #Beaufort s.c.

[autodaemonium]

zrəbʌəbzdsɪɪlʃɪkɪrəʌ

Pronounced: zruhbuuhbzdsiilshikiruhu.

Pantheon of: gaseousness, homeliness, effortfulness, dissolubility.

Entities

Blryənəgivʃknɛtŋrrlo

Pronounced: blryuhnuhgivshknaytngrrlo Gaseousness: bubbliness. Effortfulness: arduousness. Legends: secondary education, homily, derivation. Prophecies: strengthening, malpractice, house party, unitization. Relations: nʌɪlmiturnðriiɒmdʒkɪr (provision), mɪrəðinəɪæhoɪmərztʃsr (oxidoreductase), sʌrɛəuɪsmðvrndbɪləɪv (support level).

Einɪərtnnvrdəɑpməɪsə

Pronounced: einiuhrtnnvrduhahpmuhisuh Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: arduousness. Relations: sʌrɛəuɪsmðvrndbɪləɪv (millboard), ðəɪpnprədfsɑɛtəfspvl (pastis), tʃdlstvkðəuʌerstəŋmʃt (courbaril copal), blryənəgivʃknɛtŋrrlo (chrome alum).

Melɪəfrʌʃɪretəərərɪt

Pronounced: meliuhfrushiretuhuhruhrit Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: laboriousness. Legends: cost analysis, monopoly, plastic surgery. Prophecies: secretary of energy, abatement. Relations: sʌrɛəuɪsmðvrndbɪləɪv (azurite).

Mɪrəðinəɪæhoɪmərztʃsr

Pronounced: miruhthinuhiahoimuhrztshsr Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: arduousness. Relations: blryənəgivʃknɛtŋrrlo (grant), einɪərtnnvrdəɑpməɪsə (sap), ədəwkbtɪtðvlritkdfss (security), swkhnnkðdsrrnsoʃətæɛ (dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane).

Nʌɪlmiturnðriiɒmdʒkɪr

Pronounced: nuilmiturnthriioumjkir Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: laboriousness. Legends: marathon, rabbinate, exaction, fantan. Prophecies: cultural revolution, the irish famine, concession, unction. Relations: ədəwkbtɪtðvlritkdfss (hotel occupancy).

Swkhnnkðdsrrnsoʃətæɛ

Pronounced: swkhnnkthdsrrnsoshuhtaay Gaseousness: bubbliness. Effortfulness: laboriousness. Legends: reburying. Prophecies: ritual. Relations: melɪəfrʌʃɪretəərərɪt (draft beer), nʌɪlmiturnðriiɒmdʒkɪr (achromatin), ðəɪpnprədfsɑɛtəfspvl (misalignment), tʃdlstvkðəuʌerstəŋmʃt (plagioclase).

Sʌrɛəuɪsmðvrndbɪləɪv

Pronounced: surayuhuismthvrndbiluhiv Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: arduousness. Legends: piracy. Prophecies: fire control, scumble. Relations: nʌɪlmiturnðriiɒmdʒkɪr (schwa), swkhnnkðdsrrnsoʃətæɛ (phosphoprotein), ðəɪpnprədfsɑɛtəfspvl (polyurethane).

Tʃdlstvkðəuʌerstəŋmʃt

Pronounced: tshdlstvkthuhuuerstuhngmsht Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: arduousness. Legends: open sesame, maundy, centralization. Prophecies: twiddle, slave trade. Relations: ədəwkbtɪtðvlritkdfss (construction paper).

Ðəɪpnprədfsɑɛtəfspvl

Pronounced: thuhipnpruhdfsahaytuhfspvl Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: arduousness. Legends: broadcast medium, secretary of war, least effort. Prophecies: dash, tree surgery. Relations: mɪrəðinəɪæhoɪmərztʃsr (bath water), einɪərtnnvrdəɑpməɪsə (extremely high frequency), sʌrɛəuɪsmðvrndbɪləɪv (hematochrome).

Ədəwkbtɪtðvlritkdfss

Pronounced: uhduhwkbtitthvlritkdfss Gaseousness: foaminess. Effortfulness: laboriousness. Prophecies: set, frying, capriole, swing. Relations: melɪəfrʌʃɪretəərərɪt (anorthite).

[archaeologicalnews]

Examining the colored skeletons of Çatalhöyük

An international team with participation of the University of Bern provides new insights about how the inhabitants of the "oldest city in the world" in Çatalhöyük (Turkey) buried their dead. Their bones were partially painted, excavated several times and reburied. The findings provide insight into the burial rituals of a fascinating society that lived 9,000 years ago.

Çatalhöyük (Central Anatolia, Turkey) is one of the most important archeological sites in the Near East, with an occupation that dates back to 9,000 years ago. This Neolithic settlement, known as the world's oldest city, covers an area of 13 ha and features densely aggregated mudbrick buildings. The houses of Çatalhöyük present the archeological traces of ritual activities including intramural burials with some skeletons bearing traces of colorants, and wall paintings. Read more.

#archaeology #turkey #archeology #skeletons #catalhoyuk

[uncannyparrish]

obsessed with how absolutely batshit the end of the raven boys is. whelk is in cabeswater w neeve tied up in the middle of a pentagram about to do the ritual that he tried with noah (his best friend who he murdered) seven years ago when adam (the second best Latin student in his class) shows up out of nowhere and pulls a gun on him. whelk has a big knife and is like get rid of the gun or I will cut neeve’s (adam’s girlfriend’s half-aunt) face off with this knife. neeve is like ok idiot do that and ruin the ritual, throw the gun little boy. adam throws the gun out of everyone’s reach. gansey, ronan, and blue show up and while everyone’s looking at them neeve straight up vanishes. whelk goes for the gun. ronan (the first best Latin student in his class) tries to stop him so whelk hits him in the head with the gun and then points it at gansey. adam is like fuck! what do I do fuck! uhh and sacrifices his autonomy to the magical forest they’re all currently standing in. this causes an insane earthquake. during the earthquake whelk literally shoots adam but nothing happens to adam because of the deal he made with the magical forest just seconds ago. adam says (to his Latin teacher) give me that gun back or the magical forest that now possesses me will take it from you. before whelk can respond a herd of magical beasts appears and tramples him to death while adam watches (adam is in the right). the trees (in latin) are like btw gansey we know the dead king you’re looking for. he is here. they leave the forest. later they dig up noah’s (their friend who turned out to be a ghost) bones from his actual grave and rebury him on the ley line. noah reappears and they all celebrate. during that moment ronan is like hey guys actually one more thing. you know the living raven that I keep as a pet? I actually dreamt her into existence. THE END

#I throughly that post that’s going around like ‘trc gives you memory loss’ was wrong #cause I was like no I remember the plot #last night I was listening to the audiobook and like???? #A GUN? #trc #trb #the raven boys #the raven cycle #whelk #adam parrish #ronan lynch #gansey #blue sargent #noah czerny

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  7.2

Author’s Note:  This is the longest chapter so far!! *ehe*  Can’t wait for all the comments on this one....

Xiao eyed the three Fatui agents that were in charge of escorting the two of you to Dottore's arena the next day.  You found it rather odd that Childe and Dottore didn't accompany them this time, but didn't question it until they sought to bring only you with them.

Is this a chance for Xiao to escape?  Your gaze flit to the yaksha behind you as the agents bound your wrists with metal cuffs.  Xiao seemed as confused as you were.  "Where are we going?" You asked in hopes that they'll take you far enough away to avoid Xiao's powers.  They didn't answer you and pushed you out of the hallway.

They stopped just short of the throne room, taking a right instead of heading for those giant unwelcoming doors.  When they opened the next door, you halted.  It seemed like it was meant for some sort of conference room, but lighting was a bit over-the-top with candle lights and such.  A delicious aroma rose steadily into the air from the exquisite food that sat on the table.

"You're an idiot if you think this will woo me," you snorted as the agents removed your cuffs and left the room.  "Let's skip the crap, Tartaglia, and tell me what the hell you think you're doing."

"Why so skeptical, ojou-chan?  I just thought you'd like something to eat."  Childe held a smug smirk that complimented the devious glint in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah no.  I'll be going back to my cell now."  You spun on your heel and grabbed the doorknob.

"If you insist, I could fetch Dottore and resume your testing for the day."  When your hand froze on the knob, his smile widened.  "That's what I thought.  Sit."

You sat as far away from him as physically possible, and it drew a light chuckle from his lips.  "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to check in with you."  Childe grabbed a fork with ease and began to dig into the meal.  "This kind of treatment could continue day after day if you chose to cooperate."

"Are you trying to butter me up with food?  Do you seriously not know me well enough to know this trick won't work on me?"

"I seem to recall that it worked if it was chocolate," a boyish glint sparkled in his eyes.

Your fist slammed on the table and your eyes began to glow from the agitation.  "If you're trying to pull that 'shark week' stunt again, I swear I will--"

"--'Impale me?'  Were those the words you were looking for?"

"Okay, if there is no point to this conversation other than to infuriate me, I'm leaving."

"Have you thought of what I said, ojou-chan?"  When you raised an unamused brow, he continued.  "You can make a life for yourself here.  I'm sure with your...unique abilities, you'd be able to climb the ranks and might even rise to harbinger status."

"I have no interest in becoming a harbinger."

"The point being, you could choose whatever path you want if you joined us."

"The last time I checked, the Childe I knew enjoyed watching me suffer.  Why is he going out of his way to recruit me?"

"I think it'd be much easier on all of us if you joined our ranks.  Besides, at least with us, you could find something greater in life than..."

"Than chasing the love of a yaksha? Is that what you were going to say?"  Your glare was as cold as ice.  "I have no interest in this conversation."

"Listen to you; you're beginning to sound just like him," he retorted.  "Hold off on your retorts for a moment, ojou-chan." He placed his utensils down.  "Tell me, what would your plans be if you escaped with him?"

"Like I would tell you," you sneered.

"You've just proved my point.  I can see right through you; you don't have any."  Childe leaned forward and set his chin on his hand.  He held a smile that was somewhere between teasing and cruel.  You weren't intimidated and continued to hold his gaze.  "Ojou-chan, I'll be honest.  You'll die one way or another if you managed to escape, whether that be at the hands of the Fatui, or at the doing of the yaksha.  As a matter of fact, we wouldn't be the ones to kill you; you're the one killing yourself.  Death by a broken heart sounds more agonizing than what awaits you with us."

"You're not getting in my head."

"I'm not?  Then why, ojou-chan, does internal conflict arise on your face when you look at him?"

"Maybe because I'm having a conversation with him in my head."  

"You know what I think?  I think deep down, you know I'm right.  Part of you hates me for it, but the rest of you agrees with me.  With us, you could have anything you want if you can take it.  Be it fame, fear, glory, power, money.  Even love could grow within the ranks if you so desired it."

"Is this some sort of weird courting ritual?"  You bit back, but despite the hostility you portrayed to Childe, you were beginning to falter.  "I don't care for any of that stuff."

"But what you want most is love, no?  The yaksha can't give it to you; he's incapable of it.  You can't deny that much."  Childe refrained from grinning ear-to-ear as he watched the internal turmoil reach your expression.  You had hidden your hands under the table, haven't blinked in the past two minutes, and kept shifting in your seat.  Oh, how he's gotten under your skin.  He loved watching you squirm.  "Don't misunderstand me, ojou-chan. I'm not trying to insinuate love between us; that ship has sailed.  I'm simply looking out for your wellbeing."

You gripped the butter knife that was sitting next to your plate, flipping it over as you thought of the possibility of being able to one-shot him from here.  His lips curled upward slightly as if he knew what you were thinking.  Then, you placed the utensil back down and let out a long irritated sigh.  "Your words are falling on deaf ears, Tartaglia.  I'm going back to my cell now."

On the contrary, I think you've heard me loud and clear, ojou-chan.

............................................

The second you were shoved back into your cell, the tears began to fall.  Xiao watched you for a moment before gesturing for you to sit next to him, but you ignored him and sat in the far corner of the room.  You had glanced up at him once, noticing the tears that were also falling from his cheeks and thinking he was actually crying.  When you remembered it was just a side effect and that the tears manifested involuntarily, you reburied your face in your knees.

"Are you okay?"  Xiao sat so he was facing you, but didn't come any closer to the walls.  He hastily wiped your tears away from his face.  What a nuisance.  Can't emotions manifest themselves in a more convenient way?

"Just peachy," you sniffled without raising your head.  

As if I could ever join the Fatui! He's diluted for thinking something so stupid, for thinking I'm anything like him!  You wanted to scream and punch the wall from how frustrated you were.  How dare he try and twist me around like that!  The tears continued to spill and soak into your jeans as helplessness and hatred washed over you like the tide.  Xiao, why...?

The yaksha perked up when he heard you.  "What?"  

Why can't I be free of human emotions, just as you are?  Why must I be burdened with them?

...................................................

Two more days passed, but the two of you were never taken to the arena.  Apparently the Tsaritsa had other temporary plans that required the presence of the harbingers for the time being.  So, when the time finally came for you and Xiao to be escorted out of the cell once again, you were surprised to see what looked like rookie guards instead of the usual seasoned agents.

Their rookie-ness was primarily given away by the fumbling of the keys before the cell door unlocked.  Then it was painfully obvious that these three guards were idiots by the way they swung the door open enough that it effectively gave Xiao an opening out of the sealed box.  The two of you exchanged shocked glances before Xiao bolted through the door, his lance manifesting in time to pierce through the first guard and pin him to the opposing wall outside the hallway.  

It was an outright slaughter.

Before you even had the chance to get to your feet, the yaksha was already retracting his polearm from the third guard's torso that lay on the floor.  The heavy metallic stench of blood made your stomach riot and you averted your eyes to keep the nausea under control.

"A-Are we really doing this?  Are we really making our escape?"  Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline as well as an emotion you recognized to be fear.

Zhongli...was it really a coincidence that I heard you last night, and now the guard schedules are mixed up?  Xiao furrowed his brows as his eyes danced over the bloody corpses.  "Let's move."

"Okay..."  You carefully avoided slipping on the soaked floor and followed Xiao.  He was surprisingly familiar with the hallways considering he had been blindfolded whenever he was outside the cell.  "How do you know this place so well?"

"Sight is not the only thing we are gifted," he answered as he peeked down a corridor.  "This way."

Several Fatui agents and skirmishers turned the corner as if they had been intentionally sent.  There was no way they could have heard the ruckus from up here.  Xiao waved a hand over his face, and his mask manifested with ease.  A demonic aura emanated around him, visibly blackening the immediate area around his body.  The new sight sent a chill down your spine.  "Stay out of my way."

You followed his order and ran back the way you came, using the corner as cover.  He first burst into the cryo skirmisher, who was practically first in line for a quick death.  The polearm sliced across his torso, then Xiao shoved it through his heart.  The second the blade was ripped out of flesh, geo and pyro skirmishers surrounded him.

"LAMENT!"  Xiao leapt into the air and dove into the ground with his spear.  The shockwave of his anemo burst sent spears of air ricocheting into the skirmishers.  They struggled to their feet after the devastating blow, and more Fatui agents filtered into the hallway.  Xiao performed another series of plunging attacks until no one but him was moving.  He jerked his head to the side and his mask evaporated.  "Come."

You didn't have time to drool over how hot that was--"Ah, wait, Xiao.  That's the throne room up ahead--"

If my intuition is correct...The yaksha burst through the doors despite your warning.

"Xiao--! H-huh?"  You ran after him only to run into his back.  You peeked over his shoulder to see why he stopped in his tracks.  "What's going on?"

No one was in the throne room save for the most important players of this story.  The Tsaritsa, who was standing in front of her throne; Childe, her beloved war hammer; Signora and Scaramouche, who stood off to the side as mere observers; Zhongli, with his arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury; and Aether, who held a firm look of determination.  The atmosphere was tense, even as they all turned their heads to the sound of the doors crashing open.

"I've massacred every last one of your agents," Xiao seethed at the cryo archon as the two of you approached the group.  "Our suffering is no longer."

"Xiao," Zhongli nodded, relief washing over him when he confirmed the two of you were okay.

"Thank the archons," Aether ran over and hugged you.  "I'm sorry we took so long."  He hid his surprise at how thin you were.

"You were saying, Morax?"  The Tsaritsa refocused everyone's attention, and you and Xiao stood at Zhongli's side.  The room seemed to inhabit a colder atmosphere than the first time you visited.  She could've cared less that you and Xiao killed her men.

"You've broken our contract," the archon clenched his jaw, but remained as composed as ever.  "Thou shall not interfere with Liyue or the adepti."

The Tsaritsa's gaze flicked to the two of you.  "Oh, is that so?  I told you I'd do anything necessary to accomplish my goal."

"Those who break the contract will suffer the wrath of the rock.  We have every nation on our side; the people of Teyvat are more than willing to wage war against you for your trespasses if you refuse to return the two of them."

"You think that's going to intimidate me?" The Tsaritsa let out a frigid chuckle at the thought.  "Oh, Morax.  You really are more brawn than brains.  Alright, I will return the yaksha to you."  She nudged her head at Xiao.

"And her."  Zhongli pointed to you.

"Ha!"  Another full laugh arose from the archon's lips.  "Have you already forgotten the terms of your own contract?  Liyue and adepti alone are to be untouched.  She is neither."

"You can't do that!"  Aether shouted, grabbing the hilt of his sword.

"Then I'm afraid we'll have to wage war because of your refusal."  Zhongli hardened his gaze as he continued to stare at the Tsaritsa.  You peered up at him only to realize that he was completely serious.

He wants to wage a world war for my sake?  You sent a nervous glance to Xiao, and he didn't appear to have a problem with his superior's proposition.  Neither did Aether.  Your wavering eyes came to a rest on an amused Childe, who stood across from you.  But...this bloodshed...would be my fault...

"Relax, Morax.  Her test trials are already over; we have what we need."  Your eyes lifted to the Tsaritsa.  "She won't be put through such harsh treatment again."

"Then why do you want to keep her?  Just let her go!"  Aether continued to glare daggers.  To watch his friend be taken away by a god just as Lumine had...he never wanted to feel the same pain again.  The walls appeared to close in on him as he watched the same events repeat before his very eyes.

"She'll be an excellent addition to our ranks.  I seek to recruit her; she will aid us in commencing trials for the hosts of the adeptal enhancements."  Xiao shifted so that you were mostly hidden behind him.  "She will be treated with great care as long as she cooperates."

"She will be part of no such thing," Xiao and Zhongli jinxed one another.

You couldn't pull your gaze away from Childe; it was like the two of you came to some sort of weird understanding of one another in this moment.  You were right, your eyes widened at him.  This bloodshed for my sake...I can't let them go through with this.

"You can't fight without your gnosis, Morax.  Your threats do not concern me."

I told you, ojou-chan.  Out there, you cannot live, the harbinger seemed to say with his eyes.

We'll be on the run if we took off right now.  We'll be hiding every day for the rest of our lives.  If the war actually happens instead of an escape, all these people will die for one measly girl.  Their blood will be on my hands, on Xiao's hands--And then there's the matter of my unrequited feelings...I can't deal with any of this--The world seemed to spin around you, and you grimaced at the feeling.

"So be it," Zhongli materialized his polearm.  Aether drew his sword.

Xiao tensed when he felt your despair and dread flow through him.  He glanced over his shoulder to gage your wellbeing and was still just as confused as he tried to pinpoint your thoughts.  

I can't...You gaze rose to meet your protector.  For both our sakes...

Childe's grin widened when you stepped forward.  "Stop this!"  Your high-pitched cry interrupted the rising arguments between Aether, Zhongli, and the Tsaritsa.  "All of you, stop!"  When all eyes turned to you, you took a deep breath to stop the tears from forming.  "I'll do it."

"WHAT?!"

"If she's willing to stay, your war is pointless," a thin smile spread across the cryo archon's lips.  Then she addressed you directly.  "A wise choice, young lady.  You will be treated well now that you are choosing to participate."

You spun around when Xiao gripped your upper arm.  "What do you think you're doing?"  His voice was hushed, but there was something fierce both in his gaze and his grip on you.  "There's no need to--"

Your arm left his grip, and you addressed Zhongli and Aether.  "I can't let you guys wage war on my behalf whether it's a bluff or not.  Whatever the outcome would be, it would end in thousands of pointless deaths.  I can't let you guys do this."

"But they'll kill you!"  Aether shook your shoulders, desperate to prevent another incident like his sister's.  "Don't you understand what's happening?!  You'll--"

"I'll be just fine on my own," you gave him a half-smile.  "It's not like I'll be able to live peacefully if I escaped anyway.  They'd always be on our tail.  We'd never escape the danger of the Fatui."  Xiao glared at Childe when he heard the regurgitation of the harbinger's words.

"...Are you sure you want this?"  Zhongli observed you carefully.  "Once you join the Fatui, there will be no escape."

"If it's to protect everyone, if it's to protect the three of you, I'm sure."  You weren't aware of the tears that stained your face.  You then turned your attention to Xiao, who stood back.  "Listen, I-"

"I don't agree with this," he said plainly.  "I told you there was no need to sacrifice yourself for anyone's sake.  I told you to trust in us."

"Xiao."  You threw your arms around him, feeling him flinch under your sudden touch before hesitantly placing his hands at your sides.  I can't stand around and let innocents get hurt, just as you can't do the same.  His eyes widened as he quietly listened to your prayer.  You pulled away slightly and brushed his bangs out of his face, hand cupping his cheek.  A few of your tears were falling from his eyes as he looked into yours.  You brought your forehead to his, intent on holding him for as long as he'd let you.  You may never understand this, and that's okay, but I love you.

Xiao's breath caught in his throat and his grip around you tightened.  His eyes wavered immensely, releasing more tears as he replayed your prayer in his mind.  Only, a couple of those tears didn't belong to you; they were his own.  "What're you..."

"Heh, you have no idea how hard it was to say that," you forced a laugh as more tears dripped down your cheeks, and you tore away from him completely.

Aether watched the two of you with utter confusion, while Zhongli observed you intently.  It appears she has admitted her feelings.  Xiao, will you follow suite?  His gaze flicked expectantly  to the yaksha, who was more than distraught and traumatized by the entire situation.

You didn't wait nor expect a reply.  "I will aid you," you spun around and addressed the Tsaritsa, "but it will be under my terms.  These three are to stay out of whatever you're scheming.  Not a single hair on the tops of their heads is to be harmed."

"You have my word." The Tsaritsa thought it was adorable at how hard-headed you were.  It reminded her of Childe, and also that of an ant.  Such a small insignificant being that thought it held a significant place in this world.  Absolutely adorable.

"You guys should leave," you lowered your voice as you turned back to the trio of your apparently-not-needed rescuers.  "I'm sorry I've caused you all this trouble.  Please know traveling with you three meant the world to me."  The tears continued to fall even though you failed to acknowledge their presence.

"You're serious about this," Aether bit his lip to prevent himself from crying.  "But your Granny...the village...the Lantern Rite--"

"I'll come back one day.  That's a promise," your eyes met Xiao's.  I swear to Rex Lapis, I will return.

The Tsaritsa watched you return to her after seeing your friends off.  A disturbing smile spread across her lips as you forced yourself to kneel at her feet.  "I believe you've earned this back."  She held her hand out to reveal your vision, to which you slowly took it into your hands and stared at it with vacant eyes.

You felt nothing as you attached it to your belt loop.

#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact #xiao fanfiction #fanfiction #writing

[brothersgrim]

✘ [for undertaker] how did you die the first time

My muse has to tell nothing but the truth for 10 asks. || Accepting

Include ✘ with the asks!

He grimaces, but has no choice. He’s got to answer. (It’s like the urn, but worse. He hates it.)

“Hanging.” 

He would’ve thought that was it, but, again, whatever compels him to speak isn’t satisfied. 

“Then semi truck, then drowning. First time is always three.”

(1/10)

#suicide ment // #death ment // #ask to tag #immortality requires a hell of a ritual to earn my guy #anonymous #&& rest in peace; deadman ic #&& whispers from the crypt; deadman answers #&& a legend reburied; deadmans return

[alexsmitposts]

Sungirlc: the first people who appeared on the territory of Russia In 1955, on the outskirts of the city of Vladimir, near the sungir stream, the burial of a primitive man was first discovered. Since then, a number of remarkable discoveries have been made here, which allowed us to learn a lot about the first inhabitants of the territory of present-day Central Russia. At that time, it was the northernmost edge of the human ecumene in Europe.

According to the most recent radioisotope measurements, the settlement of sungir existed no later than 34 thousand years ago, and possibly even 39 thousand years ago. Thus, it appeared only slightly (on a retrospective scale) later than the time when CRO – magnons appeared in Western Europe-the first representatives of the modern human species in temperate latitudes. Judging from the remains of animal bones, the sungir people hunted mammoths, reindeer (their main prey), cave lions, woolly rhinos, wild horses, bears, wolves, Arctic foxes, hares, etc.

The main feature by which the life of primitive people is judged is their burial: the type of burial, the nature of the burial equipment, etc. The sungir people carefully buried their dead, provided them with hunting tools, labor, and ornaments that could be useful to them in the "afterlife", decorated their graves, and apparently took care of them. They laid the dead in certain positions, no doubt with special rituals, and sprinkled them with ochre, charcoal, and sometimes limestone. Weapons were placed next to them – daggers and javelins made from split and processed mammoth bones, as well as stone tools.

The first burial of a tall (180 cm) man with a strong physique found in Sungir was particularly famous. According to modern expert estimates, at the time of his death, he was at least 45 years old, but given the nature of the development of the bone system, he can be given 65 years. That is, at that time, he was a real centenarian. Even now, perhaps, he would have been considered a man who had lived to a respectable old age. The ancient people were "more head" (and certainly not more stupid) than the modern ones: the brain of this venerable representative (perhaps a leader or shaman) of the tribe had a volume of 1,510 cubic centimeters (for comparison, the average brain volume of a modern person is 1,300 cubic centimeters).

Examination of his skeletal remains revealed the cause of his death – a dart to the base of the cervical vertebra. Thus, we know that he was killed (I wonder how long he would have lived if not for this tragic incident?), and we can now say with complete confidence that the relations in the groups of people of the stone age were far from idyllic. They were obviously fighting for prey, for parts of the hunting territory, that is, they were fighting according to all modern concepts. However, we will not go too far in assumptions: maybe it was a "bad shot" during the hunt.

The next burials found turned out to be children's-a boy 12-14 years old and a girl 7-9 years old, and, judging by the nature of the burial, they died simultaneously or one after the other. Modern genetic analysis has shown that they were brother and sister. They were placed head to head. Surprisingly, the boy (in fact, a young man) may also have died tragically: a trace of a powerful blow with a sharp object was found on the pelvic bone, although it is possible that it was not fatal after all. A few years later, a woman was reburied just above the twin children's grave-very likely their mother.

Remnants of sungir clothing have been preserved. It somewhat resembled the clothing of the Indians of North America, that is, it was adapted to the cold climate, although, of course, it had a more primitive design. Sungir people wore leather shirts, trousers, and fur coats cut like American ponchos, as well as soft shoes like moccasins (most likely in summer) and high, tied above the knees, fur boots like PIMS. Natural in this climate were leather and fur hats (shaped like "ski") and hoods. Clothes were held together with bone needles.

A striking feature of the sungir culture was their passion for jewelry. They made bracelets from twisted flakes of mammoth bones, and wore them not only on their hands, but also on their feet (up to 25 pieces on one leg), and also made beads from drilled pebbles and Arctic Fox tusks, including tying them around the head (3,500 beads were found on the remains of the first sungir) and attaching them to clothing. The girl mentioned above, judging by the development of her muscles, seems to have been mainly engaged in making and sewing beads in the household.

Another remarkable feature of the sungir people's life was their production of children's toys. In the mentioned burial of the boy, figures of a mammoth and a horse were found with a hole in the hind leg (probably to pass a rope).

The life of the sungir people was quite harsh, as evidenced by the traces of heavy physical exertion that fell on their musculoskeletal system. It can be assumed that in winter they used some means of transportation like skis, although the latter could not be preserved, since they were made of wood.

Although the sungir people mined mammoth, they did not build houses made of whole mammoth bones covered with skins (this technology was common among earlier inhabitants of the southern Russian plain – apparently, even among Neanderthals). The climate of ancient Sungir was colder than modern, but not glacial. The area was wooded, with an abundance of firs and birches. So we can assume that the sungir people built their homes like yurts from wooden poles covered with skins, and perhaps even built the first real log houses, although their remains are unlikely to be found due to the decomposability of the material. Let's add that the type of traditional dwelling is formed depending on the climate and material in ancient times and remains almost unchanged for a long time.

As for the anthropological type of the sungir people, who lived at a time when modern races were not yet formed, it bizarrely combines the features of the Caucasian and Mongoloid races and the features of the body structure inherited by the first representatives of Homo sapiens, who came out of Africa (elongated "tropical" limbs).

[sciencespies]

8,000 Years Ago, a Child in Indonesia Was Buried Without Their Arms and Legs

https://sciencespies.com/history/8000-years-ago-a-child-in-indonesia-was-buried-without-their-arms-and-legs/

8,000 Years Ago, a Child in Indonesia Was Buried Without Their Arms and Legs

Archaeologists in Indonesia have discovered the 8,000-year-old remains of a child buried with the long bones of their arms and legs removed, likely as part of a ceremonial practice, reports Laura Geggel for Live Science.

The youngster’s cheeks and forehead were painted with red ocher, a pigment used in burials in many ancient societies; an ocher-colored cobblestone was also placed beneath their head.

Per Athena Chan of the International Business Times, archaeologists have found child burials in the region before—the newly detailed site is inside Makpan cave on Alor, a 900-square-mile island that lies between the Flores and Savu seas—but they were far more recent than the new find, which dates to the early–mid-Holocene epoch. The team’s analysis is published in the journal Quaternary International.

“Child burials are very rare and this complete burial is the only one from this time period,” says lead author Sofia Samper Carro, an archaeologist at Australian National University, in a statement. “From 3,000 years ago to modern times, we start seeing more child burials and these are very well studied. But, with nothing from the early Holocene period, we just don’t know how people of this era treated their dead children. This find will change that.”

Based on the youngster’s teeth, the researchers estimate that they were between 6 to 8 years old at time of death. But the skeleton is unusually small for a child of that age, instead appearing to belong to a 4- to 5-year-old.

Samper Carro says the team plans to investigate whether this diminutive stature was a product of diet or environmental issues, or perhaps a genetic characteristic particular to people living on an isolated island.

“My earlier work from Alor showed adult skulls were also small,” she adds. “These hunter-gatherers had a mainly marine diet and there is evidence to suggest protein saturation from a single food source can cause symptoms of mal-nourishment, which affects growth. However, they could have been eating other terrestrial resources such as tubers.”

The child’s face was marked with red ocher.

(Sofia Samper Carro / ANU)

Per the study, the removal of the long bones is not a unique finding—but this is the first time researchers in the region have observed the phenomenon in a child’s burial. Archaeologists previously recorded similar bone removals in adults buried on the nearby islands of Java, Borneo and Flores around the same time period.

“We don’t know why long bone removal was practiced, but it’s likely some aspect of the belief system of the people who lived at this time,” says Samper Carro.

As the authors write in the paper, the findings suggest that the people who conducted the burial either postponed initial interment or exhumed “and then reburied [the child] without the long bones,” which were buried separately from the rest of the remains (and have not been found).

To date, researchers have discovered a trove of evidence suggesting that people in many ancient societies modified the bones of their dead as part of burial rituals. At one early Holocene site in the Philippines, a 2013 study led by Myra Lara, an archaeologist at the University of the Philippines–Diliman, found that ancient humans had separated and de-fleshed bones in a complicated procedure. And, as Colin Barras reported for New Scientist in 2016, a group based in central South America shifted burial practices around 9,600 years ago, adopting complex rituals including bone removal and delayed interment.

In some prehistoric communities, funerary practices differed based on whether the deceased was an adult or a child. According to the study, “This has been considered to demonstrate differing levels of social embodiment and personhood, which come with growth and increased biological age.”

Last November, researchers in Salango, Ecuador, revealed a similarly eerie child burial: namely, the skeletons of two infants wearing what appeared to be bone “helmets” made from the skulls of older children.

As lead author Sara Juengst of the University of North Carolina–Charlotte told Newsweek’s Artistos Georgiou at the time, members of the Guangala culture likely outfitted the babies with skulls “in reaction to some sort of natural or social disaster and [to ensure] that these infants had extra protection or extra links to ancestors through their burials.”

#History

#History

[tomasorban]

Coatlicue: Aztec Mother Goddess

Coatlicue (pron. Co-at-li-cu-e) or 'Serpent Skirt' was a major deity in the Aztec pantheon and regarded as the earth-mother goddess. Represented as an old woman, she symbolised the antiquity of earth worship and she presents one of the most fearsome figures in Aztec art. Coatlicue was also the patron of childbirth, was associated with warfare, governance and agriculture, and considered the female aspect of the primordial god Ometeotl. The goddess was worshipped in the spring ritual of Tozozontli in the rainy season and in the autumnal hunting festival of Quecholli, when an impersonator of the goddess was sacrificed.

In Aztec mythology Coatlicue was actually a priestess whose job was to maintain the shrine on the top of the legendary sacred mountain Coatepec ('Snake Mountain', also spelt Coatepetl). One day, as she was sweeping, a ball of feathers descended from the heavens and when she tucked it into her belt it miraculously impregnated her. The resulting child was none other than the powerful Aztec god of war Huitzilopochtli. However, Coatlicue's other offspring, her daughter Coyolxauhqui ('Painted with Bells' and perhaps representing the Moon), herself a powerful goddess, and her sons the Centzon Huitznahua ('Four Hundred Huiztnaua', who represented the stars of the southern sky) were outraged at this shameful episode and they stormed Mt. Coatepec with the intention of killing their dishonoured mother. The plot came unstuck, though, when one of the Huiztnaua lost heart and decided to warn the still unborn Huitzilopochtli. Rising to his mother's defence the god sprang from the womb fully-grown and fully-armed as an invincible warrior. In another version the god springs from his mother's severed neck but either way, with his formidable weapon, the xiuhcoatl ('Fire Serpent') which was actually a ray of the sun, the warrior-god swiftly butchered his unruly siblings and chopping up Coyolxauhqui into several large chunks he lobbed the pieces down the mountainside. The myth may also symbolise the daily victory of the Sun (one of Huitzilpochtli's associations) over the Moon and stars.

This battle would be commemorated with the setting up of the Templo Mayor at the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan. The giant pyramid was covered in snake sculpture and even the shadows cast by its steps were designed to reference Mt. Coatepec. A further link to the myth was the large stone placed at the base of the pyramid which has a relief carving of the dismembered Coyolxauhqui.

In another myth involving the goddess she warned the Mexica of their future demise. The Aztec ruler Motecuhzoma II had sent a party of 60 magicians to visit Coatlicue in the mythical ancestral home of the Mexica, Aztlan, in a quest for supreme knowledge. However, overburdened with gifts, these hapless magicians got bogged down in a sand hill and the goddess revealed that the Aztec cities would fall one by one. Then, and only then, would her son Huitzilopochtli return to her side.

In art Coatlicue is most famously represented in the colossal basalt statue found at Tenochtitlan which now resides in the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City. The figure is 3.5 m high, 1.5 m broad and depicts the goddess in her most terrible form with a severed head replaced by two coral snakes, representing flowing blood. She wears a necklace of severed human hands and hearts with a large skull pendant. She also wears her typical skirt of entwined snakes whilst her hands and feet have the large claws which she uses to rip up human corpses before she eats them. This may reference the connection between Coatlicue and the star demons known as the tzitzimime, who the Aztecs believed would devour the human population if the sun should ever fail to rise. At her back her hair hangs down in 13 tresses symbolic of the 13 months and 13 heavens of Aztec religion. Interestingly, the base of the statue is carved with an earth monster, even though it would never be seen. The statue was discovered in 1790 CE but was thought so terrifying that it was immediately reburied.

Uploader´s note: Coatlicue is also known as Teteoh innan (Classical Nahuatl: tēteoh īnnān). Notice the similarity between names “innan“ and “Inanna“ (Mesopotamia).

#aztec #history #mother goddess #divine feminine #religion #culture

[thekennewickman-blog]

Saga of the “Ancient One”

1990 - Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) is passed by President George W. Bush.

July 1996 - Two college students Will Thomas and Dave Deacy found the Kennewick Man, referred to as the Ancient One by Native American tribes,  skull along the shore of the Columbia River in Washington state, USA. They call the police and Benton County coroner, Floyd Johnson arrives at the scene. He does not know what to do with the findings and he calls local archaeologist, James Chatters.

Approximately 300 bones and bone fragments dated to 8,340-9,200 years ago were found belonging to the the Ancient One, “the oldest and best-preserved sets of remains ever discovered in North America.” These bones made up “~90% of an adult male skeleton.”

Chatter sent a bone sample for it to be carbon dated and that is when the Army Corps of Engineers (managed the land where the bones were found) not only claimed the authority of the remains, but also “demanded all scientific study cease.”

They proved their jurisdiction over the remains and they were “locked up at the Department of Energy’s Pacific Northwest National Laboratory.”

Native American tribes said the bones belonged to an ancestor and quickly moved to reclaim the remains and provide a “ritual burial.”

Armand Minthorn, a spokesman for the Umatilla tribe, wrote, “Scientists have dug up and studied Native Americans for decades. [...] We view this practice as desecration of the body and a violation of our most deeply-held religious beliefs.”

In response, the corps agreed to return the bones to the Native American tribe. However, scientists did not agree with this. Owsley contacted members of Congress and the corps and said that “the remains should be studied, if only briefly before reburial.”

Researchers lead by Owsley filed a lawsuit (eight plaintiffs) against the Native Americans claim because according to them, the Kennewick Man “could not be linked to living Native Americans” and in fact, needed to be study to show an affiliation to a modern tribe. NAGPRA did not apply.

1998 - Authorities recognize that “substantial parts of the femur bones” had disappeared in the move to the Department of Energy’s Pacific Northwest Laboratory.

2000 - Then-Secretary of the Interior Bruce Babbitt concluded that the Ancient One’s remains belonged to the tribe and ordered they be returned.

2001 - The femur bones of the Kennewick are found this year in the evidence vault of the county coroner’s office.

2002 - U.S. Magistrate John Jelderks in the United States District Court of Oregon ruled the remains of the Ancient One were not related to Native Americans “based on its physical features, and therefore the NAGPRA didn’t apply in this case.” The remains were sent back to the researchers and the decision was upheld in the court of appeals.

The motion was granted and the District Court specifically held (Bonnichen v. U.S. - 217 F.Supp.2d 1116): 

“(1) remains of Kennewick Man were not Native American within meaning of Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA); 

(2) Secretary of the Interior erred in assuming that coalition of four federally recognized Indian tribes and a band that was not federally recognized was a proper claimant under NAGPRA and in failing to separately analyze the relationship of the particular tribal claimants to the remains; 

(3) evidence did not support determination that there was a “cultural affiliation” between remains and tribal claimants; and (4) plaintiffs would be permitted to study the remains.”

2004 - The United States Court of Appeals of the Ninth Circuit rules in favor of the scientists, citing research that demonstrated the Kennewick Man was not Native American. Native Americans tribes appealed, the Court of Appeals affirmed the decision and tribes moved for rehearing.

The court specifically held the following (Bonnichsen v. U.S. - 367 F.3d 864):

“(1) scientists had standing to bring action; 

(2) human remains must bear some relationship to presently existing tribe, people, or culture to be “Native American” within meaning of NAGPRA; and

(3) substantial evidence did not support Department's decision that remains were Native American within meaning of NAGPRA.”

2005 - Research on the Kennewick Man continued this year, following eight years of legal battles preventing the repatriation of his remains to Native Americans.

The research group was led by Douglas W. Owsley, the division head of physical anthropology at the Smithsonian received permission to study the bones discovered.

These are some of discoveries his team made:

“He was a stocky, muscular man about 5 feet 7 inches tall, weighing about 160 pounds.”

Right-handed

Looked a lot like “baseball pitcher’s;” he threw a spear

Left left was much stronger than the right one, must have “arrested [his] forward momentum” with this leg

Hands and forearms show he “often pinched his fingers and thumb together while tightly gripping a small object”

Leg bones suggest he swam in shallow rapids and they reported he had “been growth consistent with surfer’s ear”

Knee joints show he must have “squatted on his heels” often

Years before his death, he had broken half a dozen ribs

five broken ribs never healed properly since he continued throwing spears with his right arm

Two small depression fractures on his cranium

Spearpoint was thrown at him and it injured and embedded itself in his hip when he was 15-20 years old

Others must have taken care of him because his injury healed and his limp disappeared over time

Ate “almost exclusively on seals, sea lions, and fish”

Drank glacial meltwater

Died at around 40 years of age

2014 - “Kennewick Man: The Scientific Investigation of an Ancient American Skeleton” edited by Douglas W. Owsley and Richard L. Jantz is published in September of this year. It is regarded as “the most complete analysis of a Paleo-American skeleton ever done.” His remain were in storage at the Burke Museum at this time.

2015 - Geneticists at the University of Copenhagen in a collaborative study with Stanford University’s Medical Center published an article in the journal Nature that demonstrated that the Native American tribes had been right all along. The senior author of the study Eske Willerslev, PhD, said, “It’s very clear that Kennewick Man is most closely related to contemporary Native Americans.” He added, “In my view, it’s bone-solid.” The study found that based on genetic comparisons, the Kennewick man “shows continuity with Native North Americans over at least the last eight millennia.”

Stanford University released a statement on June 18, 2015 with more information of their findings, disproving claims made in a 2014 study that said the Kennewick Man was “more related to indigenous Japanese or Polynesian peoples than to Native Americans.”

2016 - President Barack Obama signed the Water Infrastructure Improvements for the Nation Act (WIIN Act), which included a section that transferred the control of The Ancient One to five Native American tribes.

2017 - The tribes reburied the Ancient One “in a grave not far from where he was found along the Columbia River.”

#the ancient one #kennewick man #anthropology #nagpra #native american #native americans

[apenitentialprayer]

European Christianization and the Eternal Fate of Pagan Ancestors

”The relationship between the living and dead members of their clan has long been seen as an essential one in early medieval society. The dead constituted an age class that continued to have a role and to exercise rights in society. Archaeologists have suggested that the rich grave goods in burials of the ate fifth and sixth centuries were evidence of this importance in Reihengräberzivilization, in which ancestors played the role of intermediaries between the clans and tribes (Stämme) and the gods. Kurt Böhner and others have thus suggested that Christianity, which greatly lessens the role of the dead, must have had a fundamental impact on the place of the dead in in Merovingian society: “The profound change that Christianity brought with it is shown most clearly with relationships with the dead. Although these were once ancestors of many clans and tribes in which they lived on and enjoyed divine or quasi-divine veneration, they now entered the eternality of Christ.” As evidence of this essential transformation in relationship between the living and their ancestors,  Böhner cites the famous passage from the Vita S. Vulframni in which the Frisian duke Radbod, about to be baptized, asked Wulfram, the bishop of Sens, whether there were many Frisian kings and princes in heaven or in hell. Wulfram answered that, since these praedecessores had not been baptized, they were surely in hell. Hearing this pronouncement, the duke determined not to be baptized, saying that he could not do without the company of his predecessors. This text, whose importance for historical ethnography Herwig Wolfram has emphasized, seems however to contradict other archaeological evidence which, as we shall see, places in doubt Böhner’s interpretation both of the process of Christianization and of the account in the Vita Vulframni.

Radbod died in 719 and, it can be assumed, joined his damned ancestors. Around the same time or shortly before in the Rhineland near Alzey, Frankish nobles were founding a funerary chapel that served to preserve the memory of their pagan ancestors and, in a functional sense, to Christianize them retroactively. The church in question was Flonheim, and the careful archaeological study of the site by Hermann Ament suggests that the theological response to Radbod’s question presents only part of the eighth century reality. On December 29, 1876, the parish of Flonheim was destroyed by fire. During reconstruction between 1883 and 1885 it was discovered that the church stood on the foundations of a much older building, within which were found ten Frankish burials. The oldest portion of the church was a tower, the upper part of which was Gothic; the lower, Romanesque of ca. 1100. The foundations of the Romanesque portions of the tower, a crypt, were older still; and directly under this oldest portion of the old church, was a particularly rich Frankish burial. Ament’s examination of grave goods and his reexamination of the nineteenth-century report of the excavations demonstrated that the graves were part of a larger row cemetery, traces of which had been found in the 1950s elsewhere in the village. Moreover, the ten graves appear to be those members of a wealthy clan. That in the Merovingian period a family would erect a mortuary chapel in which to bury its members would hardly be remarkable; examples are common, particularly even earlier ones in the more Romanized areas of Europe. What is remarkable, however, is that Ament’s dating of the burials, particularly of grave 5, the one directly under the tower, is so early that the burials must predate the erection of the church (first mentioned in 764/767) and, in the case of grave 5, the conversion of Clovis. Ament compares this grave -in its depth (greater than the others at Flonheim), in its furnishings, and in its relation to other graves- to grave 319 at Lavoye. The rich furnishings of grave 5 include a famous golden-handled sword and other weapons and ornaments which both in their forms and variety argue for a date conclusively for a date contemporary with the tomb of Childeric (481). Ament sees grave 5 as a founder’s burial, like that at Lavoye. Around it, in the sixth and early seventh centuries, other clan members were buried. When the chapel was built, the importance of this founder’s burial was still recalled, and its builders included the other clan graves within the confines of its walls. The erection of a chapel over the graves of a clan and the particular position given to the clearly pre-Christian burial both strongly suggest that the continuity between pre-Christian and Christian members was not broken by baptism. In fact, on a physical, structural level, the founder was given a burial infra ecclesia after the fact, thus including him in the new Christianized clan tradition. Ament has compared the situation at Flonheim to those at Arlon, Speiz-Eingien, Morken, and Beckum and suggests that these other Merovingian churches containing Frankish burials may well be similar to Flonheim; for the chapels also appear to postdate the earliest burials. The American archaeologist Bailey Young has compared these apparently ex post facto Christianizations to observations of Detler Ellmers on Swedish cemeteries and suggests that the practice of assimilating pre-Christian ancestors into the Christian cult of the dead may be detected there as well. In Sweden, with the coming of Christianity, churches were generally built near the preexisting sepulchers of prominent families, and the last furnished burials are therefore older than the actual cemeteries. Elsewhere, pagan remains were moved into Christian burial places. The most famous Christian reburial in the North is that of the Dane Harold Bluetooth’s pagan parents Gorm and Thyre at Jelling. Harold first buried his parents in a wooden chamber covered by a large mound surrounded by standing stones in an outline of a ship, giving them a traditional pagan burial. After his conversion around 960, he had his parents’ remains removed to a church. Excavations of the present stone church (ca. 1100) indicate three previous wooden churches and a large, centrally placed grave containing the disjointed remains of a man and a woman obviously reburied there after the disarticulation of the skeletons. Harold’s runestone explicitly announces that the monuments he created were dedicated “to his father Gorm and his mother Thyre,” although it goes on to say that Harold “made the Danes Christian.” In both Frankish and Scandinavian situations, the archaeological evidence seems to contradict the explicit statement of Wulfram. How is the historian to resolve this contradiction? I would suggest that it arises from two sources. The first is the difference noted above between the intellectualized articulation of belief by clerical elite and the actual societal practice, lay and clerical. The second is the way the specific circumstances of Radbod’s aborted conversion color both the question and the response, making them part of a discussion of salvation in modern Christian terms, when the real issue is ethnicity and hegemony in eighth century Frankish terms. In the case of Flonheim and similar burials, the meaning of the construction of a Christian church over a pagan tomb is implicit: the ancestors have been conjoined in the new cult as they were in the old. Conversion is not an individual, but a collective, act that involves the entire clan and people, a fact long recognized about two groups of Franks - those of Clovis’s generation and their descendants. The collective nature of conversion implicitly applies to a third group of Franks as well, their ancestors. Although Gallo-Roman authors like Gregory of Tours have emphasized Clovis’s conversion, that does not mean the Franks had lost respect for or interest in their pre-Christian ancestry. Witness the literature of Merovingian Frankish genealogy, the Liber historiae Francorum, among others. Retroactive conversion is not articulated; indeed, it would be difficult to reconcile that orthodox Christianity. But in the symbolic and ritual structure that solidified and expressed the values of Frankish-Christian civilization, a place was found for their ancestors. Here, as in the example of the ritual humiliation of the saints I mentioned earlier, the physical juxtaposition presents a meaning in a Wittgensteinian sense which was apparently accepted by the lay founders of the church at Flonheim as well as by its clerics. Perhaps, although we cannot be sure of how much they knew of its origins, even the monks at Lorsch, to whom the church was given in the 760s, perceived this meaning. Thus the Franks of Flonheim, pagan and Christian, could keep each other company in the next life but not, apparently, Radbod and his pagan ancestors. It is tempting to cast this distinction in terms of the supposed two stages of conversion, the first represented by a maximum accommodation to  pagan tradition; the second (and this being the case with Radbod), an insistence on an inner meaning of Christianity. In fact, this approach will hardly suffice. Frisia was, in the early eighth century, hardly into a second phase of conversion; it was at the first stage of a process that would take generations. Rather, we should consider the specific context of the efforts to convert Radbod and his Frisians. Wulfram’s contact with the duke was part of the Frankish effort to subjugate the Frisians, an effort in which conversion was specifically conversion to Frankish Christianity. After Pepin II defeated Radbod in 694, he sent Wilibrord to convert Radbod and his people. Wulfram’s efforts were part of this mission. Pepin’s intention was specifically to establish a Frankish political and cultural basis in order to pacify the region. Conversion and baptism at the hand of a Frankish bishop would have meant, then, the acceptance of a specifically Frankish ethnic identity and the rejection of Frisian autonomous traditions, political and cultural. Radbod would really have cut himself off from his ancestors, but not merely by being assured of heaven while they languished in hell; for he would have become, in a real sense, a Frank. A similar break with their ancestors was demanded of the Saxons during the eighth century. It is hardly happenstance that the earliest condemnations of traditional Germanic burial sites in favor of church cemeteries was specifically directed at Saxon Christians: “We order that the bodies of Christian Saxons be taken to the church cemeteries and not to the burial mounds of the pagans.” Likewise, the famous Indiculus superstitionum was directed specifically at those “sacrileges at the tombs of the dead” performed by the Saxons. In the case of both the Frisians and of the Saxons, the bonds uniting the conquered people to their independent ancestry had to be broken because they were a source of anti-Frankish ethnic and political identity, not simply because they were pagan in a narrow religious sense. In the entirely Frankish contexts of Flonheim, Arlon, Spiez-Einigen, and Morken, though, conversion did not mean the rejection of a cultural and political tradition. It meant instead the confirmation of tradition through the acceptance of a new and more powerful victory-giver, Christ. The benefits of such a conversion could be shared with the past as well as with the future. - Patrick J. Geary (Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages, pages 35-41)

#Mass conversion #Christianity #Salvation #history #Merovingians #Frisia #Living with the Dead #Anglo Saxon #Saint Wulfram #Radbod of Frisia