Giants turning into Windmills

I knew someone who believed that in Rama’s time (if there ever was such a space-time) people were nine meters tall. He also thought that the loquacious snake that talked to Eve in her lost paradise was a mere figment of a poet’s imagination. As a matter of fact there are, full groups, sects, churches and assemblies that would support the literal meaning of one of these myths (usually denying the other). It is difficult to see our beliefs as a myth, easy those of others.

What is there? I mean it in its more general sense, what is there in the universe?, or in front of us? The basic question of ontology will remain a continuous engine of delusions and misunderstandings as long as we hold our naïve conceptions of myth. Giants turn into windmills and these into power generators, machines that deal with electrons, or shall we say fermions of the lepton kind?, or what myth shall we use to express our ignorance?, or is it knowledge? The thinnest razor’s edge separates both, a shade-like filament projected over our minds by the same mysterious object in different moments of our fuzzy and presumptuous history.

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Mythopoetics

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