Simply Surnames

Since the dawn of time, names have been the premier and most simplistic approach to singling out and individual.  Referencing the Sacred texts of the Judaic, Islamic, and Christian faiths, the first names were given to Adam and Eve, and from Adam, to all living things.  This system of naming became pronounced through the ages and soon developed into a way to label people further than their “name,” but by their trade or skill as well.  Thus, the surname was born.

            All the Smiths of the world today could most likely follow their lineage back to some great smithy his time, the Shepherds, to well, a shepherd…Some names seem very quizzical in the sense of their background, like those that sound like first names-I wonder if they were that persons skill-possibly some sort of slave owners, risqué or otherwise.  Further, the confusion continues, but instead of pondering on the names Rice, Mason, or Bell, I try to approach the less obvious, like the name Cocherell. 

            There are variants of the name Cocherell-Cockerell, Cockerel-both of which lead you to believe that the contemporary meaning of the prefix had not yet sat in. So through common knowledge, the work “cockerel” literally means “young chicken.”  Who wants to be labeled as a little chicken? Not this guy.  I would like to think the Cocherells were of the same crowd as the Dixons, Coxes, Longs, and even the occasional Wood. It is a hard life to live, being a little coch…No wonder I am such a stiff.

            It is possible that this name was given to me as a calling, for my true blood name is Clawson. In conjunction, the two names sound quite excruciating, but that is a topic for another time.  I think I am called into the field of politics.  Imagine the campaign slogans “It will be a hard race…,” “Cocherell is stiff competition!,” and of course being a-head in the race.  The puns could continue, but I find that, as I sit here erect, it if hard to excrete anymore from this sleep deprived mind.

     Well…there is the profundities which you have been waiting for many days to hear!

Dragons, Detours, and Damsels in Denial

     In  Medieval history and even in Antiquity, there were creatures roaming the Earth, creatures, gods, beings, all of which we couldn't imagine the the world today.  In their time, each one of these abnormalities of creation seemed to be so tangible, but in reality...some were the most erroneous mental conceptions ever imagined.  Looking back, we now understand each of these "beings" were actually real. Alive.  Tangible. No they didn't live in a cave and come out only to see a town consumed in the conflagration it spouted from their nasal cavities, or even turn people to stone at a single glance; towering populations physically may be an exaggeration, but the turbulence of these beings was all too real for each culture which constructed their existence.  Symbols.  These beings were symbols to the problems which ravaged their individual empires and at times, wreaked havoc upon the lot of the globe.

     Dragons were birthed by the "religious" sect known as Pagans.  There are many stories in history and even the Literary Cannon, which house some sort of Pagan belief either reigning, holding the most paramount of positions in the culture or being decimated by a new belief or idea.  Beowulf is a prime example.

     The story of Beowulf was written in the time that Christianity began to to develop and become the dominant faith over all other beliefs, especially Paganism.  The narrator of the epic tale has clearly has devout belief and loyalty to the Christian faith, but the actual characters are a variant from the narrator.  The evil in the story, Grendel and his mother, have a direct connection to the Christian faith, and when they attack, the Geats would pray to their Pagan gods, but nothing would happen.  These monsters of their culture lived in the most elusive of places, where no man dared to travel, only strengthening the the foreign nature of this faith. Through the development of the poem, the hero kills the evil, but still has some sort of a Pagan crutch that he falls on throughout the poem, even when it seems he has shifted beliefs.  The final battle, our hero had help killing on of the most Pagan of all creatures, a dragon.  Beowulf strikes the dragon, but the deathblow is delivered by Wiglaf, another person seeming devout in their Christlike affiliation.  So the story ends with a strong Pagan symbol being destroyed, but a Christian taking over.  Symbolic development.

     I would like to take the symbol of the dragon and breathe some life back in into its caustic nostrils.  In today's time, we still cling to this idea of a dragon.  Through movies, books, cartoons -TROGDOR!!!-, apparel, these mystical creatures of masticated folklore continue to live even after the triumph of their Jesus driven counterpart.  The symbol has been lost, so now...dragons are cool!  How about we breach the surface of their "coolness." To us Christian, dragons should be vile things which none of us adore, but that idea had been lost.  Instead we get caught up in the elegance of the dragon, in movies we try to befriend them or obtain knowledge and/or glory.  Dragons still live today, but are more tangible than ever.

     People of deception are much like dragons.  They can seem so elegant, so astute, and can even command a great deal of renown, but not so deep down inside, their napalm-covered cavity gives residence to every quality which is covered by their seemingly perfect facade.  This fallacious facade creates a most formidable detour for those whose eyes can only see what is on the exterior...because, exteriors are cool, right?  Detours with butterflies and flowers seem to be rather common...and the length of these detours represent a vast amount of denial.  Deception and denial are almost synonymous!

Enough of allusions to my first post.  Beware of dragons, all except one.

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Elusive Illusory Regarding Inspiration

Butterflies and Flowers.

"My heart told my head, "let love grow" But head told my heart "This time, this time no.""

     Over the last few days in this utopia of the Damned, the rumination of a single idea is juggled back and fourth between the menial thoughts that somehow creep in.  This cyclical process has seemed to jettison sanity from my mind...no matter the brevity of this situation, sanity is  my sanctuary.  While in my element, I must still remain circumspect, for this mind which was and is my secular rock, is everything but docile.

    What was it that that robbed Samson of his strength?  Sure, the extrication of his Nazarene locks was the thing which cause his power to falter, his hair was his secular rock.  His hair was not the cause of his demise, but something else.

Butterflies and Flowers.

     Discombobulation, disarray, a complete fiasco! This utilitarian rule over something that isn't theirs is causing a schism between me and what is mine.  Butterfly or flower I wonder... Happiness is always present, emotional demeanor seems to be in the right place, but when when circumstances procreate distance, the demeanor switches shade.  This metamorphosis can only lead one to believe there is some not so hidden problem.  Heart and head disagree. The truncated sense of comfort only conceives more fear then happiness.  One is inundated with nothing but confusion. 

Butterfly or Flower?

    As day is divided by Sun and Moon, the situation only increases in complexity seeing that both Sun and Moon reign ubiquitous in the mind of the confused as well. Flower. Butterfly or Flower?

The obvious choice may not be correct, so this time....this time, no.

Inner-Cranial Cave of Cochrelian Confusion

Hmm...Blogging.

I have contemplated the idea of blogging for some time now.  Tonight is the night that that the contemplation ends and the composition of confusion begins.

     I know little about the commonalities of blogging, for I have even failed to read the blogs of others, but I have an idea of what a normal blog consists of.  This blog will not be a chronicle of my quotidian life, nor will it be fabricated to lift up or put down anyone (accidents do happen).  This dumpster of diction will simply be a place for others to attempt to embark on a journey...a journey into this basin of bedlam, this fort of fantasy, this realm of reticence, this world of words: My mind in its raw.

     Seeing that it is late this evening, I will hold off on the ranting, expulsion of my mind, and intellectual slaughter, and instead write on a topic just given to me as "inspiration." Butterflies and flowers (>:o)

Butterflies are creatures of beauty. 

They are the object of every eye they pass,

Flying by, simply to tease their viewer

With both beauty and freedom.

These creatures, are easily parallelled

By the creatures Pope deemed "Sylphs."

So fragile, these objects of beauty are

And expendable, for there are many

Which share the quality of having a shell of great beauty.

A shell is all these creatures have,

But for so many,

that is all that is required.

Serving as their grounded nemesis,

Flowers too are objects of exceptional beauty,

Or can be.

Each flower holds a different meaning.

Each color of petal,

Speaks on its own.

When plucked,

Picked,

Cut,

Or

Riped,

Flowers can breathe happiness,

Into their recipient.

While embracing the Earth,

They breathe life into all.

With each petal beauty can be seen,

But to truly understand the beauty of the flower,

One would need to devote their life to that pedagogy.

While the beauty of the butterfly,

Tangible may be,

The intangible beauty of the flower

Is the beauty which roots it's self in the heart:

Unrelenting compassion.

An empty shell is just that.

Beauty grows in the soil of the heart,

Not in the eye of the greedy.