Blood is the Rose of Mysterious Union
A bunch of clueless young people are giving curiousjew a hard time about calling blood donation 'sexy'. As often is the case, my mind inexplicably latched on to the association between blood and sex, and specifically that strange phrase from The Doors' song Peace Frog - "Blood is the rose of mysterious union". What the heck do you think that line means?
I don't think anyone knows, but it sounds pretty cool. Some people think that it is a reference to Jim Morrison's Wiccan wedding to Patricia Keneally:
Or perhaps, it is a reference to the Catholic symbolism of a rose representing the Virgin Mary, whose "mysterious union" with God created Jesus, whose blood saved the world?
Or perhaps it is just a bunch of crazy words strung together by a guy drugged out of his mind...
I don't think anyone knows, but it sounds pretty cool. Some people think that it is a reference to Jim Morrison's Wiccan wedding to Patricia Keneally:
One of Patricia’s friends, a high priestess of a coven, conducted the ceremony, assisted by a high priest. They led Jim and Patricia through a traditional handfasting, with prayers and an invocation of the Goddess, blessings, the making of two small cuts on each partner’s wrist and forearm, and the mixing of a few drops of their blood into a consecrated cup of wine from which they later drank, a ritual stepping over a broomstick, the exchanging of certain vows, and the final calling down of the Goddess’s presence.
To Patricia, this was a perfectly natural ceremony in her religion, but Jim was totally caught up in the ritual. He gave Patricia a silver claddagh, the traditional Irish wedding ring, and she gave him a matching gold one. The officiating priestess and Patricia, in her capacity as a priestess, made out two hand-printed documents, one in English, one in witch runes. Everybody present signed, with Jim and Patricia required to mark their signatures in blood. The pair were declared wedded, and Jim fainted.
Or perhaps, it is a reference to the Catholic symbolism of a rose representing the Virgin Mary, whose "mysterious union" with God created Jesus, whose blood saved the world?
Or perhaps it is just a bunch of crazy words strung together by a guy drugged out of his mind...
posted by e-kvetcher at 9:22 AM
6 Comments:
Crazy nonsense by the pompously would-be poetic. That was a short description of the Doors and most of their fans for decades to come, by the way.
Still, a pretty rockin' band...
My step-brother's dad said of the Doors one day when they came on WCCC, "oh no, not more cheesy sixties organ music..."
It's kind of odd how those who were there for the sixties are less big on the Doors than those who came after. I remember in junior high the other guys drawing the Doors' logo on every possible surface and Riders on the Storm playing way too much.
But the seventies are right out. I gotta agree with Eddie Vedder about that. We just can't have kids listening to Andy Gibb on the streets.
Emes: reminds me of this wonderful poem (sorry about the length, but I think it is apposite).
The Flea
John Donne
MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
RL, I'd forgotten that poem; I haven't encountered it since high school. Thanks for posting it.
It's been a over a decade now, and honestly... you seem like the pompous one here.
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