Hello. As is frequently the case, I find myself sitting at my desk, wondering how you are feeling and what would you like to chat about this week.
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How about this?
The Bulls of Fryers St
Every time I stop at the Wyndham/Fryers traffic lights, I find myself looking up – at a cow jumping over the moon.
And wondering, ‘Is that what it is? Or could it be a winged bull?’
This repetitious thought eventually led me on a wild and confusing journey – in some instances back to 8000BC.
I thought this would be simple but there was symbology, and mythology; and many rabbit holes.
The winged bull or the bull of heaven has been present in our civilisations for millennia.
It originated in ancient Mesopotamia, possibly (but not probably) at the time of the great flood around 3500BC.
Things were very difficult, at this time, with floods and storms occurring all over the planet.
Everything changed.
This was a rabbit hole — because there is a great deal to be said about this particular period; and I’m tempted — although most of it has little to do with our bulls.
Except — there was something in the sky — which people took to be a bull (experts tell us that the shape of the horns would have been created by the shadow of a planet).
But, if a bull was in the sky, it would have to have wings, wouldn’t it?
As time went by, many civilisations had myths around killing the bull of heaven which, in those times, must have been considered a threat to humankind.
The most accessible of these tales involved Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, (southern section of today’s Iraq).
He did the job on the bull of heaven – as did people in Greece, Crete etc.
In much more recent times, the Catholic church and other Christian denominations, began using the winged bull as a symbol of Saint Luke the Evangelist.
St Luke is a patron saint of artists, physicians, bachelors, surgeons, students and butchers. (An interesting cross section of humanity, don’t you think?)
In yet another rabbit hole, I found myself reading about winged bulls with human faces.
There are many of these too; they are called Lamassu and there are two at The Louvre.
In pairs, the Lamassu are considered to be protective.
So who knows, maybe we are blessed with a pair of winged bulls of heaven and maybe they are protecting us from disaster.
We can dream, can’t we?
We can create our own local myth, can’t we?
It’s no more unlikely than a cow jumping over the moon.
And you could (if you wished) tell visitors about our protective bulls.
Soon people would be arriving to see SAM and MOVE — asking for the location of the bulls.
But, please avoid saying anything like ‘Nursery rhymes are like your noses — everybody has one.’
You could be hit with a fast-moving handbag.
MY NOTE: Thousands upon thousands of words have been written on this subject — but I think it is preferable that I keep some space for the pictures.
Anyway, that’s all I know.
Spoiler alert
There is a movie on 7Plus entitled A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood.
It is about Mr Rogers, who is very famous for a children’s television show; he teaches children how to manage some of life’s difficulties.
Tom Hanks received an Academy Award nomination, for talking to everyone as if they were all in pre-school.
Then there was another chap called Lloyd, who was a magazine writer.
He was sent to interview Mr Rogers and write a 400-word piece.
He ends up writing 10,000 words about how Mr Rogers changed his life. (Does that remind you of ‘Town Talk’? I never know when to stop either.)
Lloyd is unable to forgive his father — for being a lousy dad and running away when things got tough.
Carrying around anger and resentment certainly makes people unhappy and Mr Rogers helped him by talking to him as if he was four, telling him that forgiveness is a decision, that’s all.
We don’t hear everything that Mr Rogers says to Lloyd, however Lloyd ends up loving his father again — and being happy.
If only life was this simple.
Becoming the best version of ourselves is a long and sometimes, painful journey.
Making a decision is the easy part.
Training yourself to turn anger into love is never easy; there are steps to take and no magic wands.
This movie is a fairytale.
I watched this thing to its conclusion because I thought I might learn something — gain some wisdom.
But no. I just learned how irritating Tom Hanks can be.
Under the clock
CYCLIST’S NECK BROKEN
18th May 1914
Edward Oswald Dowell, a carpenter, residing at Tatura, met his death evening. He was returning from Harston, where he was employed, in the company of his brother-in-law, Jack Taylor, aged 17 years.
Both were riding bicycles and travelling at a moderate pace. After they had traversed a mile the bicycle on which Dowell was mounted skidded, and the rider was thrown to the ground.
Taylor who was following close behind ran over Dowell’s leg. It was apparent that Dowell was seriously injured, for he did not move. Taylor went on to Tatura for help.
Dr Ley drove out and found that Dowell was dead. He had been killed instantaneously, his neck being broken.
A widow and six young children are left; the youngest being twins, aged 2 months.
Note: I do hope this sad tale hasn’t upset members of the Dowell family, still living in Tatura.
My husband believes they are direct descendants of the six children left fatherless.
Last week
I had an email from Roger (who remains my friend) urging me to desist writing about the Queen; though, he said ‘she’s a good old sort’.
He felt my item was provocative — and it was.
He feels I could stir up the ‘crazies’.
I told him that I have finished writing about Her Majesty (for now, at least) and have finished with sheep — for ever.
If the readership of The News contains ‘crazies’, I’m not aware of them.
Mind you, Roger hasn’t given me a clear definition — so you never know.
might be one of them.
Last week’s unusual date (22/2/22) was peaceful enough for me — until, whilst making a coffee, I glanced at the clock. It was 2.22pm.
Honestly, it felt more like a message than a coincidence.
Later I realised we were seeing the start of a 20th century war; the tanks in the streets of a city, the crying children and frantic parents.
I had thought these scenes were part of our history.
However, it only takes one mad man — who is now talking about nuclear weapons.
Fight on, Ukraine.
Today, however, is the first day of autumn and just 16 days to the Tiges’ first match (if any of you care.)
Have a good week, everyone and let’s be grateful for our blessings.
May it be easy.
— Marnie
Email: towntalk@sheppnews.com.au
Letter: Town Talk. Shepparton News. P.O. Box 204. Shepparton 3631.
Phone:Send a text on 0418 962 507. (Note: text only. I will call you back, if you wish)
Town Talk