So here you are… strolling across a forest floor with your
girlfriend… arm in arm in arm in arm. Or maybe its leg in leg in
leg in leg. You look at each other. It’s hot out. Wondrous smells
waft through the air. The two of you are heady with the scents of
summer. So whaddya wanna do, you say. You’re ready to acquiesce to
her every wish. Your magnanimity can be attributed to the fact that
to many you are a symbol of eternal life. She looks at you coyly.
Wanna roll around in poop?
You both grin and make a mad dash for a pile of manure freshly
deposited and still glistening in the noonday sun. You both dive in
… head first. You frolic and rollick about. For you are the Dung
Beetle… that most revered creature to the ancient Egyptians. You
are the Scarab. You are the symbol of the sun and of eternal return.
Humans love you. They make gold rings in your image. They make
silver amulets. They make bejeweled talismans.
Of course… they do not know you all that well… for if they did
… they would be more wary. For should you walk upon their shoes or
emerge from one of their shoes… it is a sure sign of death to come.
You sometimes do that just for fun… just to see their reactions.
And then… in moments of deviltry… you occasionally enter a room
where a family is seated. Oh the woe of it all… for this means
misfortune will surely befall that family. And the worst of it is…
they dare not kill you… for if they do… all the worse for them.
When not gamboling in excrement… you strut among humans with
Aristotle–that old geezer–thought you arose from putrefying flesh.
And he was the bright one. Poor delusional humans… so immersed in
their own sense of self-importance they are unable to see the
munificence of you.
Some thought you were the symbol of thunder. In Africa some of your
tribe are thrown into a lake as part of a rain-making ceremony. And
during the nineteenth century… it was thought that by suspending
one of your cousins around a child’s neck… that child would be
cured of the whooping cough.
Poor poor humans. How little they know. For all you really want is to
play in feces. Superstition and strange reverence is for humans. Hey
Mary, you say to your girlfriend as she grins up at you from the
depths of an ever-ripening mound. You hungry?
That all said dear souls… I bring you this week an image of a
bejeweled scarab made of silver and rose gold… set with diamonds
and rubies and other red stones unidentified. It was created toward
the end of the 19th century. It’s worth… in 1998… was about
10,000 French Francs.
For those of you who are new to this thing called Tidbits…may I
direct you to my home page at www.tyler-adam.com where you will
scroll down the left side menu till you get to the area that says
Current Tidbits… and then click on it in order to view an image of
this little dung loving beetle.
And there ya have it.
That’s it for this week folks.
Catch you all next week.