Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Kybele: Anatolion Collection

I've been on a Cybele kick recently (see WORKING FOR THE WEEKEND), mostly because I found (and eventually won!) this beauty on Ebay (£2.99, approximately $5.44!):

Click thumbnail for larger image.

From the seller:
"THIS IS BRAND NEW STILL IN IT ORIGINAL BOX FROM THE "VITRA ANATOLIAN COLLECTION" RANGE THIS IS A LIMITED ADDITION NUMBER 612 of 1000 A REPLICA OF A CARVING OF KYBELE, WITH IT COMES A SMALL BOOK TELLING YOU A LITTLE OF THE CARVING ALSO A STAND TO DISPLAY IT."

I have absolutely no fucking clue where She'll go (other than somewhere). I came across this when looking up information on the Vitra Anatolian Collection:

Prudentius: The Taurobolion of Magna Mater
The high priestess who is to be consecrated is brought down under ground in a pit dug deep, marvellously adorned with a fillet, binding her festive temples with chaplets, her hair combed back under a golden crown, and wearing a silken toga caught up with Gabine girding. Over this they make a wooden floor with wide spaces, woven of planks with an open mesh; they then divide or bore the area and repeatedly pierce the wood with a pointed tool that it may appear full of small holes. Here a huge bull, fierce and shaggy in appearance, is led, bound with flowery garlands about its flanks, and with its horns sheathed---its forehead sparkles with gold, and the flash of metal plates colors its hair. Here, as is ordained, they pierce its breast with a sacred spear; the gaping wound emits a wave of hot blood, and the smoking river flows into the woven structure beneath it and surges wide. Then by the many paths of the thousand openings in the lattice the falling shower rains down a foul dew, which the priestess buried within catches, putting her head under all the drops. She throws back her face, she puts her cheeks in the way of the blood, she puts under it her ears and lips, she interposes her nostrils, she washes her very eyes with the fluid, nor does she even spare her throat but moistens her tongue, until she actually drinks the dark gore. Afterwards, the corpse, stiffening now that the blood has gone forth, is hauled off the lattice, and the priestess, horrible in appearance, comes forth, and shows her wet head, her hair heavy with blood, and her garments sodden with it. This woman, all hail and worship at a distance, because the ox's blood has washed her, and she is born again for eternity.

That? That's my sort of magic, 100%.

(SO THERE WAS THIS ONE TIME THAT ITALICS CAUGHT ME LAUGHING WHEN WE WERE REALLY, REALLY HIGH AND HE ASKED WHAT I WAS THINKING ABOUT AND I WAS ALL "STUFF. OTHER PEOPLE. THE WAY I AM." BECAUSE I WAS THINKING ABOUT MAGIC AND MY ATTITUDE TOWARDS IT AND OTHER PEOPLE'S ATTITUDE TOWARDS IT AND IT REMINDED ME HOW THE LAST REAL MEMORY I HAVE OF MY OLDEST FRIEND'S HOME (WE MET IN THE 3RD GRADE AND WERE PRACTICALLY INSEPARABLE FOR MOST OF OUR GRADE SCHOOL LIFE, EVEN THOUGH A STATE BORDER RAN BETWEEN OUR HOMES WHICH MEANT WE WENT TO DIFFERENT SCHOOLS DESPITE LIVING ONLY 10-15 MINUTES AWAY FROM ONE ANOTHER) WAS THE AFTERNOON WE SPENT ON THE FARM PLAYING IN MUD (LOL, AS NAKED TEENAGERS, LOL!).)

(INSTEAD OF SWIMMING IN THE HOMEMADE WATERING HOLE WE PASSED TIME WALLOWING NAKED IN A MUD PIT TOGETHER, SLAPPING EACH OTHER WITH BALLS OF OOZING DIRT, AND LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY AS WE BECAME PLASTERED WITH LAYERS OF CLAY AND MUD. THAT MEMORY - THAT SORT'VE GOLDEN MOMENT OF (ALMOST) ADULT LIFE GONE ALL DEVOLUTION - MADE ME LAUGH AND APPRECIATE THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND A LOT OF OTHER PEOPLE WHO PRACTICE MAGIC.)

((IN THE END, REALLY, I'M THE ONE PLAYING IN THE MUD.))