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| Lilith by John Collier |
In Hebrew and Arabic mysticism, the figure exhibited above, of Lilith, is the central character for mythic remembrance of the succubus folklore, where she is a source of domestic superstition and the root of cosmic evil. Read more from the Jewish Women's Archive.
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Low-lying jungles emerge only steps from the sea wall. As I
enter through the darkening canopy my footprints sink deeper into the unsure
ground of dying vegetation. I see a man and woman walk assuredly in Muslim
dress.
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| Muslim shawl-makers, Kashmir 1867 by William Simpson |
This is Mother India, though I feel I am trespassing, at the dangerous
edge, where two worlds have collapsed side by side. At seeing their weary
countenances, their grimacing jaunts, I recoil nearer to the seaside, where the
forest is less thick and try a new entry point. Again, wandering through the
sweep of jungle, my mind presses onward with increasingly bleary sight as the
landscape closes in and my sight nears my eyes, confronting the formidability
of a climaxed rainforest.
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| Lovers shoot at a tiger in the jungle. Illustration to the mystical Sufi text Madhumalati by Meister des Madhu-Malati-Manuskripts |
As I enter through a clearing, I see a young woman, a
Punjabi Sikh. She welcomes kindly, and warns me of the dangers ahead, though
she reminds me that as long as I travel through the lands of her people, the
Sikhs, I will be safe.
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| Portrait of Rani Jind Kaur aka Jindan by George Richmond |
I wander on, enlightened by the meeting with such a kind
and endearing sprite. Increasingly entangled in the impenetrable bush, I come
to a massive tree. Immediately, I begin climbing to gain a vantage point. The
limbs are smooth and strong, a true jungle arbor. As I feel for a lookout, the
branches stretch me inwards, and I rest on a limb as thick as my body, crawling
toward a knot of branches creating a homely stand, a shaded hollow within the
body of the tree. As I press on amid the enwrapping arms of the humungous tree,
a woody formation beckons with the same quality as my bedroom.
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| Abu'l Hasan and Mansur Squirrels in a Plane Tree by Abu'l Hasan and Mansur |
Again, I wake,
remembering the seaside cliffs beyond the jungle’s edge, the grandiose rocks,
welcoming my step, as I notice two women of different religious custom playing,
bounding from rock to rock with amiable laughter and sisterly freedom, I begin
sketching in primary colors and rough lines, with an innocent beauty, and
gravity enough to keep my word.
_________
Where does the apple fall?From a rootless tree?
A groundless source?
- excerpt from "My Name"
