To spin, to twist. P Mgv.: hiro, iro, to make a cord or line in the native manner by twisting on the thigh. Mq.: fió, hió, to spin, to twist, to twine. Ta.: hiro, to twist. This differs essentially from the in-and-out movement involved in hiri 2, for here the movement is that of rolling on the axis of length, the result is that of spinning. Starting with the coir fiber, the first operation is to roll (hiro) by the palm of the hand upon the thigh, which lies coveniently exposed in the crosslegged sedentary posture, two or three threads into a cord; next to plait (hiri) three or other odd number of such cords into sennit. Hirohiro, to mix, to blend, to dissolve, to infuse, to inject, to season, to streak with several colors; hirohiro ei paatai, to salt. Hirohiroa, to mingle; hirohiroa ei vai, diluted with water. Churchill.

Ta.: Hiro, to exaggerate. Ha.: hilohilo, to lengthen a speech by mentioning little circumstances, to make nice oratorial language. Churchill.

Whiro 'Steals-off-and-hides'; also [in addition to the name of Mercury] the universal name for the 'dark of the Moon' or the first day of the lunar month; also the deity of sneak thieves and rascals. Makemson.

Hawaiian Islands

Society Islands

Tuamotus

New Zealand

Pukapuka

Ukali or Ukali-alii 'Following-the-chief' (i.e. the Sun)

Kawela 'Radiant'

Ta'ero or Ta'ero-arii 'Royal-inebriate' (referring to the eccentric and undignified behavior of the planet as it zigzags from one side of the Sun to the other)

Fatu-ngarue 'Weave-to-and-fro' Fatu-nga-rue 'Lord of the Earthquake'

Whiro 'Steals-off-and-hides'; also the universal name for the 'dark of the Moon' or the first day of the lunar month; also the deity of sneak thieves and rascals.

Te Mata-pili-loa-ki-te-la 'Star-very-close-to-the-Sun'

... The 'head' ('breadfruit') is buried (though not its top end) and the result is miraculous - there will be no more starving children. Starvation belongs in winter, not in summer. The sacrifice of the old one presumably happens in winter and the result will be a renewal of light (life). The spirit of the dead 'man' is infused in the next generation, in his successor. He is coming back.

Mokuola (Motu-ora) is 'the living (is)land', i.e. the season when Sun once again is ruling in the sky above, when he has returned from Hine-takurua to dwell with Hine-raumati.

... He became a mighty warrior in those days, and was known throughout all the island, so that when he died, his name, Mokuola, was given to the islet in the bay of Hilo where his bones were buried; by which name it is called even to the present time ...

Hine is a common name for women in Polynesia and Hine is also a name for Moon. The islet Mokuola (not a place in space but a place in time) lies in the Bay of Hilo, it is said. This is significant because on Easter Island Ohiro was the name for the first night in the month (and on Hawaii it was Hilo).

... But we must be careful. The Bay of Hilo is where Mokuola was buried, not where he was born. Instead it should come close in time after his death, maybe immediately after midsummer (because probably Mokuola is the 'Living Island' of spring) ...

Spring Sun cannot go on forever, and at the end he will 'cast anchor' somewhere. A 'bay' is where his journey will end ...

Mercury is not moving straight ahead but rather like a lizard, whose head wavers from one side to the other when he quickly escapes from view. This motion is not vertical but horisontal and Mercury does not climb, not at any time. Instead he runs madly ahead:

As to the magic feat (feet) of the gecko, who easily walks around upside down on the ceiling, we should remember that this ceiling is the floor of your neighbour upstairs. As viewed from a point south of the equator what is very low becomes its opposite.

And here I have copied an inspired page from my preliminary glyph type dictionary:

Agri-culture is in opposition to the wild untamed forest. Therefore we have deforested most of our world. Easter Island is a prime example.

We cannot imagine the world before agriculture. What we can do is to pick out just one example from the preagricultural world, an example which hopefully will work like a slap in the face:

"How serious that worship [tree worship] was in former times may be gathered from the ferocious penalty appointed by the old German laws for such as dared to peel the bark of a standing tree. The culprit's navel was to be cut out and nailed to the part of the tree which he had peeled, and he was to be driven round and round the tree till all his guts were wound about its trunk." (The Golden Bough)

The navel is a good symbol for 8. The tree is your mother and to hurt her must be punished in kind.

The guts are the primal rivers below, those which Mercury has occupied:

"This terra-cotta mask shows the unlovely face of Humbaba/Huwawa, the guardian of the cedar felled by Gilgamesh and Enkidu. The title of 'God of the fortress of intestines' is also given to him, and some scholars conclude from this title, as well as from the pictorial evidence, that Humbaba was the inhabitant and lord of the labyrinth, a predessor of Minotaurus." (Hamlet's Mill)

The punishment says exactly what has gone wrong, what the culprit has done. To peel the bark of the living tree is to sell your mother for a quick profit. The culprit has gone crazy - he has become a merchant, he does no longer live in the forest, he dwells in a city, in a perverse culture designed by cunning man.

The story goes as far back in time as written history admits:

"Returned to Uruk, Gilgamesh washes his hair and garbs himself in festive attire. As he puts on his tiara, Ishtar, the goddess of love (in Sumerian, Inanna), is entranced with his looks and asks him to marry her. Gilgamesh rejects her, reminding her in scornful words of what happened to her previous mates, including the hapless Tammuz, later known as Adonis. It is not unusual for a hero to refuse the love, and the unheard-of-presents, offered by a goddess. In every such case only two celestial personalities are possible candidates for this role: the planet Venus, and Sirius, alias Sothis, who has some of the reputation of a harlot. There is the story of Ugaritic Aqht, who shows mocking haugthiness to Anat; of Picus who flatly turns down the offer of Circe and who subsequently turned into the woodpecker by the angry goddess; there is Arjuna - a 'portion of Indra' - who rejected the heavenly Urvashi, whom he regarded as the 'parent of my race, and object of reverence to me ... and it behoveth thee to protect me as a son'.

There is also Tafa'i of Tahiti (Maori: Tawhaki) who went with his five brothers courting an underworld princess. As a test, the suitors 'were told to pull up by the roots an ava tree, which was possessed by a demon, and which had caused the death of all who had attempted to disturb it'. Three of the brothers were devoured by the demon; Tafa'i revived them, and then gladly renounced the hand of the princess. (Ava = Kava, and stands for the 'next-best-substitute' for Amrita, the drink of immortality which is the property of the gods; mythologically Polynesian Kawa resembles almost exactly the Soma of Vedic literature; even the role of the 'Kawa-filter' is an ancient Indian reminiscence; and, as befits the pseudo-drink-of-immortality, it is stolen, by Maui, or by Kaulu, exactly as happens in India, and in the Edda, and elsewhere).

Meanwhile Ishtar, scorned, goes up to heaven in a rage, and extracts from Anu the promise that he will send down the Bull of Heaven to avenge her. The Bull descends, awesome to behold. With his first snort he downs a hundred warriors. But the two heroes tackle him. Enkidu takes hold of him by the tail, so that Gilgamesh as espada can come in between the horns for the kill. The artisans of the town admire the size of those horns: 'thirty pounds was their content of lapis lazuli'. (Lapis lazuli is the color sacred to Styx, as we have seen. In Mexico it is turquoise.) Ishtar appears on the walls of Uruk and curses the two heroes who have shamed her, but Enkidu tears out the right thigh of the Bull of Heaven and flings it in her face, amidst brutal taunts. It seems to be part of established procedure in those circles. Susanowo did the same to the sun-goddess Amaterasu, and so did Odin the Wild Hunter to the man who stymied him.

A scene of popular triumph and rejoicings follows. But the gods have decided that Enkidu must die, and he is warned by a somber dream after he falls sick. The composition of the epic has been hitherto uncouth and repetitious and, although it remains repetitious, it becomes poetry here. The despair and terror of Gilgamesh at watching the death of his friend is a more searing scene than Prince Gautama's 'discovery' of mortality.

'Hearken unto me, O elders, (and give ear) unto me! // It is for Enk(idu), my friend, that I weep, // Crying bitterly like unto a wailing woman // (My friend), my (younger broth)er (?), who chased // the wild ass of the open country (and) the panther of the steppe. // Who seized and (killed) the bull of heaven; // Who overthrew Humbaba, that (dwelt) in the (cedar) forest - ! // Now what sleep is this that has taken hold of (thee)? // Thou hast become dark and canst not hear (me)'. // But he does not lift (his eyes). // He touched his heart, but it did not beat. // Then he veiled (his) friend like a bride (...) // He lifted his voice like a lion // Like a lioness robbed of (her) whelps ...

'When I die, shall I not be like unto Enkidu? // Sorrow has entered my heart // I am afraid of death and roam over the desert ... // (Him the fate of mankind has overtaken) // Six days and seven nights I wept over him // Until the worm fell on his face. // How can I be silent? How can I be quiet? // My friend, whom I loved, has turned to clay'.

Gilgamesh has no metaphysical temperament like the Lord Buddha. He sets out on his great voyage to find Utnapishtim the Distant, who dwells at 'the mouth of the rivers' and who can possibly tell him how to attain immortality. He arrives at the pass of the mountain Mashu ('Twins'), 'whose peaks reach as high as the banks of heaven - whose breast reaches down to the underworld - the scorpion people keep watch at its gate - those whose radiance is terrifying and whose look is death - whose frightful splendor overwhelms mountains - who at the rising and setting of the sun keep watch over the sun'. The hero is seized 'with fear and dismay', but as he pleads with them, the scorpion-men recognize his partly divine nature. They warn him that he is going to travel through a darkness no one has traveled, but open the gate for him.

'Along the road of the sun (he went?) - dense is the dark(ness and there is no light)' (Tabl. 9, col. 4, 46). The successive stretches of 1, then 2, then 3, and so on to 12 double-hours he travels in darkness. At last it is light, and he finds himself in a garden of precious stones, carnelian and lapis lazuli, where he meets Siduri, the divine barmaid, 'who dwells by the edge of the sea'. Under the eyes of severe philologists, slaves to exact 'truth', one dare not make light of this supposedly 'geographical' item with its faint surrealistic tang. Here is a perfectly divine barmaid by the edge of the sea, called by many names in many languages. Her bar should be as long as the famed one in Shanghai, for she has along her shelves not only wine and beer, but more outlandish and antiquated drinks from many cultures, drinks such as a honeymead, soma, sura (a kind of brandy), kawa, pulque, peyote-cocktail, decoctions of ginseng. In short, from everywhere she has the ritual intoxicating beverages which comfort the dreary souls who are denied the drink of immortality. One might call these drinks Lethe, after all.

Earnest translators have seriously concluded that the 'sea' at the edge of which the barmaid dwells must be the Mediterranean, but there have also been votes for the Armenian mountains. Yet the hero's itinerary suggests the celestial landscape instead, and the scorpion-men should be sought around Scorpius. The more so as lambda ypsilon Scorpii are counted among the Babylonian mashu-constellations, and these twins, lambda ypsilon, play an important role also in the so-called Babylonian Creation Epic, as weapons of Marduk." (Hamlet's Mill)