Musings

It occurs to me that all of the old tales, the truly old tales, begin in blood. Why is that I wonder? Most likely it is because the older times are times of blood, of violence, or a simplicity that we tend to unfairly characterize as barbarism. But I chose to believe that it is also an unconscious homage to the fact that everyone is a story and we all begin in blood. None of us get to miss that messy, time-honored, red, first step into the world.

It occurs to me to that all of the old tales, the truly old tales, are told in three parts. The foundation never changes: the beginning, the middle, and the end. What we put on top might: an introduction, a climax, and a resolution. But always three parts. Trilogies just make more sense instinctively somehow than a quartet. I could not tell you why even if you threatened me with a dunk in the pond.

And there is a point to all of this for like the old tales women are born in blood and told in three parts: maiden, mother, and crone. And so it makes sense to me (and if the world is being honest, to them too) that women are the oldest stories of all.

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