Impressions, momentary
and vivid, would wash over him: a potter’s vermilion glaze; the sky-vault
filled with stars that were also gods; the moon, from which a lion had fallen….
My chills of recognition make me pause, just three lines
into a story by Jorge Luis Borges, one of the essential writers, opening worlds of wonder and doorways into the Universal Library in a few pages. Borges named this one after himself: “The Maker”, El Hacedor.
Previous translators
squirmed at the title “The Maker”. They thought people might confuse it with
Our Maker; they feared leaving sulphurous traces of a heresiarch. So they
considered and sometimes used “The Poet”, “The Artificer”, “Il Fabbro”. But
Borges chose the English himself. And yes, he meant maker of worlds.
The maker wrote this as he was
nearing blindness in the vast library in Buenos Aires with whose flying books he had
made love and married and danced the tango and fought with knives inside his
mind. I can think of no one, not even Jung, who has housed so many books in his
head and incited so much action between them. Borges was now engaged in
constructing a total library in the imaginal realm, his version of paradise.
Never a tame library, but one where wild things are.
the moon, from which a
lion had fallen….
I am seized again
with wild familiarity, the hot breath at my neck, claws at my kidneys.
Borges’ line has a rhyming cousin,
short, stocky and flat-faced, wearing a robe of skins hung with bronze mirrors.
I know where find it. I keep it locked
behind glass doors, along with the Red Book, the Golden Bough and other books
that are restive that like to flap about and
prowl in the night.
Sometimes the doors rattle and the
key turns itself but today, things are quiet and I must fetch the book myself.
It was published in Oxford five years after Borges died, so he could not have
known it but might have known some of its sources. Its words are spun from
conversations with shamans and elders of the Daur Mongols, lovers of horses,
fermented mare’s milk, and drums that they ride to other worlds.
Like Borges, these shamans are
forever talking about tigers and lions. While Borges tried to make dreamtigers
and was never quite satisfied, around Hailar or the Nomin River it’s not hard.
Lie by the water watching butterflies and a tiger twice as long as you may come
for you, as it would come for a tethered goat.
Out here the lion may demand a
deeper seeing, since you won’t see lions in Daur country with your ordinary
eyes.
The Oxford anthropologist asks a
Daur shaman, Urgunge Onon, about this. He speaks from the tellings, which is how his people describe their traditional
knowledge. Anthropologists may know about shamanism but the people who practice
it in the old ways don’t have any “isms” in their vocabulary.
Urgunge says, “Wild animals of the
forest have two kings [khan], the
tiger [tasaga] and the lion [arsalang].
“Lion?” The anthropologist is
amazed. “But you don’t have lions in Manchuria.”
“They will be thinking of …er..what
is it in English? Leopard. Leopard is just like lion, is that right?”
“But you don’t have leopards
either.”
“No, that is true. So the
conclusion is: in reality the khan of animals is the tiger; in imagination the
khan is also the lion, even if we do not have lions in Mongolia. Everybody
knows the story of the lion who jumped to catch the moon, then it died, you
see. This is definitely the lion. The tiger never did that.”
The lion who fell from the moon did
not really die, of course.
Some nights, coming in or out of
sleep, I feel him lying with me on the bed, back to back.
The night after I posted this, I dreamed of lions in a place of soul recovery. In a huge cavern, divided by an underground river, a wise elder is preparing people to make the crossing and meet the lions who are waiting from them, one for each. From this side the lions look no bigger than kittens. They may look different close up. I know that those who find the courage to meet their lions will be transformed. The courage of the lion and its power to make itself heard will live in them.
Books referenced
"The Maker" in Jorge Luis Borges, Collected
Fictions, translated by Andrew Hurley (New York: Penguin Books, 1998).292
Shamans and Elders: Experience, Knowledge and Power among the Daur
Mongols by Caroline Humphrey with Urgunge Onon (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1996).
Art: Douanier Rousseau, "Sleeping Gypsy".