At 19,694 words-- Posime li n'a kalemun na Kasét

YESSS! I've finally gotten to writing the ïtïmi'a of Zanguin, the mythology of the planet, Zanguin. It has been a long time in the making, and finally, for my beloved www.nanowrimo.org, I am finally writing the cultural, artistic, and expressionistic history of the Aniku. Here, below, if an excerpt of the séto'k of Kasét, the mytho-story of Kasét, god of messages and of language.


Posime li n'a kalemun na Kasét
( Kasét's discovery of the runes )

The gods and goddesses of the Olde World had always communicated telepathically, never in written form or orally. They figured that they were gods and they did not have to record history, they did not have to produce sound, they did not have to write mathematics, they did not have to send letters, or write to people because they were gods. They could send a faithful messenger who would produce telepathic communication thought for thought. A god could know any number of things by looking or solve any mathematical expression in their head. History seemed to be written down for them in a higher form of consciousness that seemed to merge together into Om.
The Aniku and the Umanla had no idea of what a writing system was, nor did they know what runes were. Before the time of the kalemun, mortal and immortal alike would use herbs, meditation, dance, and other forms to foresee and divine. Symbols which stood for parts of a word were foreign in thought, and pointless considering that the gods had their own language of communication, one of pure thought.
As the ages procured great dramas, one god simply could not take his thoughts from the world below. He saw great wars, triumphs, hardships, beginnings, ends, crying, laughing. It puzzled him how the Aniku could face so many obstacles, yet still get back up and try again. It left a soft spot in his heart that he knew no other god would understand. The Umanla had no hardships, everything was concise, logical, simple, open, and easy. As Kasét observed the Aniku, he felt sad that he couldn't speak like the Aniku.
As he watched below through the clouds, he saw the joy of language. One could produce a piece of words that stood for so much, yet with telepathy, all was known, nothing was hidden. One could create an artifact that would journey through time and its story would be lost, those who uncover it to create their own story, and tell it through the ages. It was illogical and untrue, but from that chaos, there was joy to be had. Communicating by thought all the time seemed boring and less whimsicle than the poetry of the Aniku.
The gods were often dry, prompt, concise, logical, and artless. There were never any dramas, never any fun to be had, without sound, there was no music, no laughter, no individualism, no secrets. He understood, as a god of his own nature, how chaotic and cumbersome all of that could be. Misunderstandings and truly epic dramas could unfold within the gods as he saw within the humans. Given his background in thought, he still wasn't convinced that any of that was truly a bad thing.
"The others would call this insane," Kasét thought. As he saw the Aniku painting, singing, speaking, expressing, he wanted to also do these things. He had to find a way to get them to understand so he became a mortal.
He could not go without secrets, nor could he wait long enough before the gods figured out his plan and tried to stop him. In order to remedy the potential situation, he split himself in two, one in god form, and one in mortal form. The other half would stay in the heavens as normal and have no prior knowledge of the plan while the other lived the life of a mortal.
Kasét meditated and mediated that night. During long hours, he discovered the Kalemun. Each letter would stand for a symbol. When the symbols were put in specific orders, it produced thoughts that could be roughly understood. He wrote down these symbols on parchment paper, and asked his twin to take the letter to Ipdénu. With this letter, he left a key that would help one to understand what the letter said, and he instructed his twin not to read this letter and put it away until many years had passed and word from Ïnünot came about a mortal in his image.
The twin did as so, and Kasét lived a long mortal life. When he finally came to Ipdénu, Ïnünot was highly confused. This mortal had no mortal soul, no mortal spirit, it was as if he were a god of some sort. He did not remember a thing about being a god or his plan. Ïnünot sent to the heavens to Kasét, the messenger of gods. Kasét did not invite the otehr gods, and kept it private, going straight to Ipdénu. When he came down, he greeted them all and presented his mortal twin the letter which he wrote long ago.
In this letter, it explained everything in illumination, as well as giving the mortal half the power to rejoin as one with his twin.
"I lived a long, long life as a mortal," Kasét explained. Ïnünot knew very well what mortal life was like, as well as immortal life. He was impressed that a god would take it upon himself to do so many great things in the name of understanding, yet he feared the fate of the gods. Before Kasét's experience as a mortal, gods were perfect beings. They were seen as that which embodies all that the imperfect Aniku did not. He explained to Kasét that perfection in nature was key, and that the very threads and seams of the world could be in danger.
At last, Kasét began to reconsider his tales, though it couldn't be rewritten now. He had already follwoed through with the plan, but he knew in the back of his heart, that there was something worth while in his plan.
"Lord of Ipdénu," Kasét began, "You have seen mortal upno mrotal come and go through your realm. you have learned by their stories and your observations what it is to be an Aniku, but it is far different, for I empathize with your observing. I, too, have observed and I know of their workings. But I have also done something great. I have lived as one, laughed as one, felt the pain of losing my mother, have birthed children, have soldiered onward even when the world seemed so dark, I have painted, I have sung, I have danced, I have gone to great lengths to protect my family.
"I have lived this mortal life, and I would do it again again and again. The Umanla, we are not like these mortals. We are perfect, but we are dry. We do not find enjoyment from these animated beings. We do our work and have no leisure. We have endless energy, but why must we never fall? If we never fall, how can we learn to appreciate how wonderful it is to be a part of Nagét'ha?"
"They are so various. Soem are smart, some are stupid. Some are wicked, some are humbly kind. Because of their spoken language, they have the option to share their thoughts, they are able to invest their own thoughts into objects, they are able to create whimsical stories.. they are able to live in such a dynamic, unique way. This language of theirs, it allows them truest, individual expressino which could mean many words to some, or little to others.
"One can speak the same thought expression to many denominations of their kind and it could mean different things to each. This very concept is foreign of an idea to us gods. Why do you think that is? Because language is a beating heart of its own. Language is its own life, and it cosntantly grows, evolves, and changes, much like Zanguin herself.
"Tell me good lord, how can we gods find deeper meaning out of this world while coexisting with these humans if we do not understand them? How can we be perfect if we do not conceive imperfection? That, in itself, is a contradiction."
Ïnünot listened intently to his monologue. He learned of his mortal story during passing, but from the telepathy of a god, it was different. It made much more sense as it was clearer and from the perspective of one who spoke the same language as he.
"I still worry, Kasét, that once they learn language and the Aniku way, once they learn what it's like to be imperfect, that it will taint them."
"Look upon me and you tell me if I am tainted, if I am lethargic, if I will not do work. Part of perfection is learning how to conquer imperfection. Isn't that why the Aniku come and go? Is that not why they live life after life to learn what it is like to be perfect?"
Ïnünot was impressed. He smiled at his passionate ramblings, and he felt that he could trust the fate of the Umanla in his hands. Ïnünot knew very well what mortal life was like, the whys and hows of it all, he knew very well what the dance of the cosmos had in its vaults. Hearing Kasét's story gave him hope that the gods would be able to handle the mortal tongue, simply for the fact that one stood before him who had firsthand experience. In a way, he was excited for this new fate.
"Mortal life is intended as an ultimate learning experience, one that teaches many stories that even gods cannot comprehend. We are all but a facet of Nagét'ha, so we must learn of each other in nondestructive ways. I have much to ponder, and much power to grant us with the voice of the living."
After long consideration, Ïnünot decided to help Kasét teach this language to the gods for he thought that they could benefit greatly from this learning experience, as well as influence the Aniku for all time. He knew that giving the gods a mortal tongue would mean that they were mortal in some aspects. They would need food and drink as the mortals did, and without these basic requirements, they would cease to be.
Given the fright and potential risk along the road, Ïnünot got to work. He thought of a plan that would give the gods vocal chords with which to speak. He went through Ipdénu, scrounging up bodies and pulling out the necessary components to produce the mortal form. He went to his chliptu, a large cauldron which things would be added to create magic, and added these parts togethe along with the leaves of a salad.
"Go to the heavens and prepare a feast in honor of my visit. Toss the salad with these leaves," he instructed.
Kasét went immediately to the heavens and put together a celebration for Ïnünot's surprise visit. Upon eating their salads, the gods were able to produce thought into oral communication. Many of them were highly confused, alarmed, and panicked. Kasét explained to them his story and many of them were won over by how beautiful his tale sounded. Some of them, now learning how to speak, set to Zanguin to study the Aniku. As they did this, they became more like them. They found themselves having personalities, dreams, goals, expressing themselves, lying, betraying, crying, laughing, just as the Aniku had done.
As a gift to the Aniku, Kasét went to Zanguin and left his runes with the children he bore from his mortal life. As time grew, they spread the runes and written language was slowly evolving. His children became know nas great scribes, who invented Mixamue with the help of Kasét. Now, the story of their foresight and divination comes from another séto'k, and the discovery of Wühimue is Güwümue is another séto'k.
Kasét is always remembered as the god of language and writing, as well as reveered for his great visionary thinking, his ability to empathize, and his ability to climb any mountain, no matter how dangerous. It was from Kasét that the link between god and mortal became, and it is by his doings that united them all and gave deep om to their somewhat disconnected existence.