Python - or possibly the SBS test pattern
By Astyages or Theseustoo
Man, the Pythoness realized, was thus but an idea in the mind of God, who endlessly spun stories to amuse himself. Indeed, there were times when the pythoness suspected the gods of having a very strange sense of humour and actually deriving amusement from the delusions under which humans constantly suffered; misled as they almost invariably were by the illusions created for them by the very nature of their physical form; and deceived yet again by the unavoidable limitations of their merely physical means of perception. And on top of all of these illusions, they were oh, so eager to further mislead each other…
The presence of the spirits, which some called gods and others called ‘daemons’ or ‘teachers’, was, the Pythoness knew, imminent in and through all existence, corporeal and spiritual. She knew too that even these two concepts, the Physical and the Spiritual were in fact human constructions; and that in reality they were neither separate nor separable, except in the thought and speech of deluded human beings; rather they were two sides of the same coin. Every ‘thing’ was part of the Whole; and everything, she knew, implied its opposite; for everything becomes its opposite; and even the struggle to slow down or prevent this process only facilitates it. Even existence and non-existence implied each other; the one could not possibly ‘exist’ without the other.
The Pythoness shook herself out of her reverie; for it was time to deal with the physical realm once more. In any case, it was true, she reminded herself, as she frequently did, that the temple certainly benefited from the gifts the inquirers now traditionally brought as payment for her oracular services; and so the priesthood did not try too hard to enlighten them.
And if the Pythoness herself felt an occasional twinge of guilt at the manner in which the priesthood allowed such ignorant, if popular perceptions of the gods to persist; in spite of their superstitious nature; she did not allow it to take root too deeply in her soul. The gods, she knew, would enlighten poor benighted humanity in their own good time and nothing either she nor the priesthood could do would either hasten or delay that process by as much as the blink of an eye.
The persistent ignorance of her inquirers, and indeed, of humanity in general, was not so much the result of a lack of teaching, she knew; for humanity had always had teachers both human and daemonic; rather it was the lack of a desire to learn anything new. After all her years of experience as a counsellor, the Pythoness had finally understood that most people insisted on seeing things solely in the light of their own prejudices; that they habitually refused to see anything new. Even when a new thought or idea is clearly expounded; or clearly demonstrated and explained to them they would actually choose not see it; simply denying its existence at all; or else, when they could no longer deny its existence, they would call it ‘madness’; or ‘heresy’; or even ‘blasphemy’; and simply condemn new ideas out of hand before even giving themselves a chance to understand it.
Indeed, she knew that this recalcitrance was especially true whenever they had a problem. For, more often than not, the answers to their problems involved the inquirers doing things they did not want to do; and although she did her very best to point them in the right direction, she often knew right from the start that few, if any, of them would ever think about doing what was necessary, even if it were to save them from destruction.
How then, she had often wondered when she had finally donned the mantle of ‘Pythoness, could such recalcitrant folk as these ever hope to conceive of the true nature of God? She had eventually learned that the only means she could use in order to achieve a positive outcome to their problems; in cases where this was at least possible; was by deception: She must phrase her prognostications in such a manner that the enquirer would inevitably choose the road to their own spiritual progress in spite of themselves. It was a crude tool, she thought, but it often worked…
Clearly enough, the crude and unsubtle kind of mentality which imagines the gods can be bought for any price, could not possibly understand that a god is infinitely above and beyond all physical wants or needs; and not the least bit prone to either human vanity or human folly; so they neither feel nor respond to human emotions. Thus, she knew, they are not motivated by the same concerns as merely mortal human beings.
She sometimes wondered whether humankind would ever understand that, on those extremely rare occasions when the gods actually do intervene in the affairs of mortals, their interventions are usually the result of the infinite pity they feel for the incredible backwardness and recalcitrance of human nature…
Yet the Pythoness even empathized with all her inquirers’ weaknesses, which she realized were not always wilful, but often resulted from the limitations of their humanity. Indeed she felt compassion for all humanity, just as she had been taught in her mystical and entranced state, while communing with the god. She had compassion, even for all those who constantly deluded themselves with their own all-too-human ideas of just whom and what ‘the gods’ are for she knew that, in any case, the true nature of the gods could only ever be apprehended after many, many years of gruelling mental, physical and spiritual training; far beyond the capacity of most ordinary mortals, because it required a thoroughgoing and rigorous honesty about oneself and one’s own motives, of which most ordinary mortals are quite incapable.
But the Pythoness and her priesthood were not like most ordinary mortals. They were a special breed of human being; the messengers of the gods. As such they were obliged to be the most disciplined of all people; and the most ardent students of all matters, spiritual and mundane. These time-constraints imposed upon them by the requirements of their studies were far from the only restrictions imposed on the priestesses, scribes and acolytes: relationships with men, of course, were quite out of the question. Even their nearest relatives were discouraged from visiting them unnecessarily, as they tended to distract their attention from their studies.
Few indeed are the men and women who feel themselves drawn to such a cloistered and sedentary existence; but those who are drawn to it are very often absolutely devoted; and no-one was more devoted than the Pythoness herself.
Among even the best of these students, there were fewer still that had both the intellectual capacity and the personal discipline it took to study as broadly and as deeply as was necessary to even remotely approach the level of insight and wisdom necessary to perform as the Pythoness. Few indeed had the perseverance required to meditate on their lessons deeply enough to develop the great depth of philosophical insight which an oracle must have in order not only to see the regular patterns behind the almost infinite sequences of events recorded in Humanity’s history, but also to be able to understand those patterns and what they actually mean.
Only by developing a thorough knowledge and profound understanding of the past was it possible to understand the true meaning of the present moment in time; and only with a complete and thorough understanding of the present can it ever become possible to learn how to predict the future. And even then, any oracle must understand that the nature of any prediction was never that of an entirely fixed future, but of probable outcomes, which often largely depended on some determined action or other on the part of the inquirer for their fulfilment; or perhaps, for the avoidance of their fulfilment, in cases of predicted catastrophes.
Of course she was aware that this pitiful messenger from King Croesus knew nothing of all this, nor did he much care. So far as he was concerned, the Pythoness was a demi-god with the power to know and understand the minds not only of mere humans, but also of the very gods themselves. As such she was thus almost as far above his ability to conceptualise as were the gods themselves. Yet it behove a demi-god, she realized, almost as much as a god, to be gracious towards mere mortal humans in their frailty.
In reality, the Pythoness knew that humanity was neither Zeus’ intention nor his creation; they were in fact created by another Titan named Prometheus, who formed them out of the soil of the Earth, and who was eternally punished for his impudence. Yet they had always been such poor and frail creatures; unlike all the other creatures on Earth, they could not cope with extreme temperatures or conditions and fell prey not only to many other animals, but also to many kinds of ailments; the worst of which was folly.
Indeed Zeus thought of them at first as an abomination; yet they seemed to thrive in spite of the huge odds against them. Their abominable nature may have been forgiven but when Zeus discovered that Prometheus, out of his pity for humanity’s fear of the darkness, had stolen fire from his very thunderbolts, the rebellious titan incurred the All-Father’s wrath and was punished in the most horrifying manner for having done so. Yet at the end of time, which the gods can see as if it were today, Zeus, so they say, will finally forgive Prometheus and release him from the rock to which he has been chained for all eternity.
Indeed after watching the progress of humanity for several centuries even the gods themselves could only marvel at the progress they had actually managed to make, even in spite of themselves and all their folly. So finally Zeus had decided that since humanity did not actually ask to be created, it was not entirely to blame for its flaws, which he often managed to transcend anyway… Even Zeus had ultimately become quite fascinated by these unusual creatures; indeed it was as easy to admire humanity’s good qualities as it was to despise their bad ones. And Hera, the Mother of Heaven, and the Queen of Compassion, gave her bounty to all, and most generously to humanity, for she admired the courage they showed in the face of adversity.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 