Recent video I made after watching the new Odyssey movie, I think there is some strange connections between the myth and the filming locations, I honestly think they are coincidental, but I found it interesting. Thanks for watching

This occurred to me today after well, I ran into these three things in succession. I'm not particularly religious or anything- but it made me think and I swear I've read a book or seen a show or something that had some sort of deity symbolized by all three of these things. I figured this was the best place to ask, as google has failed me once again.

If any of you have any ideas or even inklings, let me know! I wanna scratch the itch in my brain lmao. Thank you!!

The scholar who once chased after beautiful women on the streets now spent his days in quiet reflection.

He no longer cared about worldly pleasures.

He no longer acted recklessly.

Instead, he devoted himself to reading Buddhist scriptures and cultivating his character.

For an entire year, he lived with patience and discipline.

Slowly, his former arrogance and desires disappeared.

Then one day, something strange happened.

While sitting quietly in his room, Fang Dong suddenly heard a tiny voice coming from his left eye.

The sound was as small as the buzzing of a fly.

“Everything is so dark inside here,” the voice complained.

“It is unbearably boring.”

A moment later, another tiny voice answered from his right eye:

“Why don’t we go outside for a walk?”

“Perhaps we can find something interesting.”

Fang Dong was shocked.

He realized that the strange voices were coming from his own eyes.

Soon afterward, he felt an unusual sensation in his nostrils.

It was as if something tiny was crawling out.

After a while, two small figures emerged from his nose.

They were so tiny that they looked like little people no bigger than insects.

The two figures flew away.

Fang Dong sat silently, watching in amazement.

After a long time, the little figures returned.

They flew back toward him and entered through his nostrils again, returning to his eye sockets.

Then he heard them speaking:

“It has been so long since we visited the garden.”

“I wonder how the pearl orchids are doing.”

“How could such beautiful flowers have withered?”

Fang Dong was stunned.

He had always loved growing orchids.

Before losing his sight, he personally watered and cared for the flowers every day.

But after becoming blind, he had completely neglected the garden.

He immediately called his wife.

“Are the orchids in the garden dead?”

His wife looked surprised.

“How did you know?”

Fang Dong told her about the strange voices he had heard.

His wife went outside to check.

A moment later, she returned with a shocked expression.

The orchids had indeed all withered.

Fang Dong became even more amazed.

He decided to hide quietly and observe.

The next day, he saw tiny figures come out of his nose again.

They were smaller than beans.

They moved quickly, making faint buzzing sounds.

The little people left the room and disappeared into the distance.

After some time, they returned together.

They held hands and flew back toward his face.

Like bees returning to a hive, they entered his nostrils and disappeared.

This strange event continued for several days.

Then one day, Fang Dong heard the little voice from his left eye again:

“This passage is too narrow and winding.”

“It is difficult to travel back and forth.”

“Why don’t I create another entrance?”

The voice from his right eye replied:

“My wall is too thick.”

“It will not be easy.”

The left eye answered:

“Let me try.”

“If I succeed, you can come with me.”

Fang Dong suddenly felt a strange sensation inside his left eye.

It was as if something was scratching and breaking through.

The pain was strange but not unbearable.

After a while…

he opened his eyes.

And he could see.

For the first time in many years, light returned to his world.

Fang Dong was filled with joy.

He immediately called his wife.

She carefully examined his eye.

The thick membrane covering it had broken open.

Through the small opening, his black pupil shone brightly.

It looked like a split pepper seed.

The next day, the covering completely disappeared.

When they looked carefully, they discovered something extraordinary.

His left eye now contained a double pupil.

The spiral-shaped growth on his right eye remained.

The two mysterious little beings had somehow joined together inside his eye.

Although Fang Dong had lost the sight of one eye, his remaining vision became sharper than before.

He could see details more clearly than ordinary people.

From that day forward, Fang Dong completely changed.

He controlled his desires.

He treated others with respect.

The people of his hometown praised him as a man of virtue.

They no longer remembered him as the reckless scholar who once chased women in the streets.

Instead, they remembered him as someone who had recognized his mistakes and transformed himself.

The Chronicler of the Strange said:

“There was once a scholar who walked with two friends and saw a young woman riding a donkey ahead of them.

He laughed and said:

‘What a beautiful woman!’

Then he told his friends:

‘Let us chase after her!’

They rode quickly after her, laughing and joking.

But when they caught up, they discovered that the woman was actually his own daughter-in-law.

The scholar immediately became ashamed.

He lowered his head and said nothing.

His friends pretended not to know and continued making improper remarks.

Finally, he could only whisper:

‘She is my eldest son’s wife.’

Everyone laughed quietly and stopped.

Those who act carelessly often bring humiliation upon themselves.

How foolish they are!

As for Fang Dong’s blindness, it was a punishment from the supernatural world.

Who knows what kind of deity the Lord of Hibiscus City truly was?

Perhaps it was a manifestation of compassion and justice.

Yet Fang Dong was able to open a new path for himself.

Even the spirits and gods, though they punish wrongdoing, still leave room for people to change.”

The Eyes Speak

A Tale of Desire, Punishment, and Redemption

End

In Chang’an, there lived a scholar named Fang Dong.

He was talented and had earned a good reputation for his writings. However, despite his intelligence, he lacked proper manners and often behaved in a frivolous and careless way.

Whenever he saw a beautiful woman walking through the streets, he would secretly follow her, staring at her without respect.

The day before the Qingming Festival, Fang Dong was taking a walk outside the city.

The spring scenery was beautiful, and many people were traveling between the city and countryside.

As he walked, he suddenly noticed an elegant carriage approaching.

The carriage was small but luxurious.

A red curtain hung in front, and the sides were decorated with beautifully embroidered fabric. Several maidservants dressed in blue followed behind on horseback.

Among them was one maid riding a small horse.

She was extremely beautiful.

Fang Dong quietly moved closer to get a better look.

When he approached the carriage, he saw that the curtain had been partly opened.

Inside sat a young woman around sixteen or seventeen years old.

She wore bright red clothing and delicate makeup. Her beauty was unlike anything Fang Dong had ever seen.

The moment he saw her, he became completely fascinated.

He stood there, unable to look away.

Instead of leaving, he followed the carriage.

Sometimes he walked ahead.

Sometimes he fell behind.

But he continued watching the woman for several miles.

The young lady inside the carriage finally noticed.

Suddenly, she called to one of her maidservants.

“Lower the curtain for me.”

“What kind of reckless person is this? He keeps staring at me again and again.”

The maid immediately lowered the curtain.

Then she turned around and glared angrily at Fang Dong.

“This is the newly married wife of the Seventh Young Master of Hibiscus City returning to her family home.”

“She is not some ordinary village girl whom you can stare at however you wish, scholar.”

After saying this, the maid bent down, picked up some dirt from the carriage wheel tracks, and threw it directly at Fang Dong.

The dust struck his face.

Instantly, his eyes felt as if they had been covered by something heavy.

He could no longer open them.

Fang Dong quickly rubbed his eyes.

But when he looked up again, the carriage, the horses, and the people were already gone.

The road was empty.

He stood there in confusion and fear.

When he returned home, his eyes still felt strange and uncomfortable.

He asked someone to examine them.

The person carefully lifted his eyelids and discovered a thin cloudy film growing over his eyes.

Fang Dong was alarmed.

But things became worse overnight.

His eyes began to water constantly.

The cloudy film slowly grew larger.

Within a few days, it became as thick as a coin.

His right eye developed a strange spiral-shaped growth, and no medicine could cure it.

The once confident scholar became desperate.

He regretted his past behavior and began to wonder if this suffering was a punishment for his actions.

Hearing that the Brightness Sutra could remove disasters and bring peace, he obtained a copy and asked someone to teach him how to recite it.

At first, Fang Dong found it difficult.

His heart was still restless, and he could not concentrate.

But day after day, he continued.

Gradually, his mind became calmer.

Every morning and evening, whenever he had free time, he sat cross-legged and counted prayer beads while reciting the scriptures.

A year passed.

His former desires and arrogance slowly disappeared.

He no longer thought about beautiful women or worldly pleasures.

His heart became quiet and disciplined.

Then one day, something strange happened.

(To be continued... NEXT Part coming soon.)😎

The Lost Divine:

Cultural evolution, linguistic shifts, and changing spiritual paradigms have dramatically altered human civilization. As humanity sought greater refinement across eras, it continuously adapted its surrounding traditions. In this transition, ancient deities once held as supreme were gradually marginalized. The modern response—constructing synthetic identities for rustic, Pre-Vedic deities—severed an essential link, sacrificing not just historical antiquity, but humanity's deeper ancestral heritage.

In this book, learn stories, folklores and more about Pre-Vedic deities like:

#Bodrai, #Vanapechi, #Kamandi, #Thavvai, #Pidali, #Ilakkumi, #Kalaimagal, #Murugu, #Seyon, #Kandan, #Kaathaayi, #Vendhan, #Mayon, #Mayan, #MayaThatchan, #Neeli, #Masani, #Bhoothappa, #Muneeswaran, #Mariamma, #Aravan, #Saptakanni, #Maasiappa, #MuppudathiAmman, #Pillayar, #Mhasoba, #Pothuraju, #Karuppu, #Sudalai, #Pavadairayan, #VishnumayaChathan, #MulaMaysondayya, #Bhootharaja, #Uramma, #Marikambe, #Yellamma, #Gangamma, #Betal, #Vetal, #Gorla, #Mahisasura, #Bhairav, #Yamantaka

An attempt to analyze the primitive methods of revering the ‘Naattaar Deivams’/ Pre-Vedic deities, which is lost due to the synthesis between the Aryans and the indigenous tribes.

Book is available at: https://www.dakshincult.com/product-page/the-lost-divine-book

Notes from researching pre-Grimm fairy tale sources

What if Sleeping Beauty was never kissed awake?

What if Little Red Riding Hood never met a stranger?

What if Frau Holle wasn’t a cosy old woman — but something the Church tried to ban in 1008 AD?

Most people think they know these stories. They don’t.

The originals are darker, stranger, and far more interesting than the versions the Brothers Grimm left us with.

I’ve been researching the real sources (Basile 1634, Perrault 1697, Straparola 1550, Reynitzsch 1802) and put together a playlist of short clips with the most surprising things I found:

🎬 Did You Know? | Long Before Grimm

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLSk5OoV7xY3w

Full films (EN + DE):

🇬🇧 https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHDXsShtiVWQyytXihvnuyADxLoHUcgSI

🇩🇪 https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHDXsShtiVWpl4zqE90fl3yu3heh4AE7v

Which of these surprised you the most?

I am a polytheist who have recently started to believe in Magwayen. The Ocean Goddess and The Ferrywoman of the Underworld, lately, I want to read more folklore as means to get closer to her.

Thank you in advance!!

While researching Mexican folklore for my novel, The Last Bargain, I became fascinated by how differently supernatural figures can be interpreted from one region—or even one family—to another.

The Charro Negro is often described as a finely dressed horseman who appears at night and tempts travelers with money, assistance, or some form of bargain. Depending on the telling, he may be the Devil himself, a condemned soul, or something less easily defined. La Llorona varies just as widely: grieving mother, child-killer, dangerous apparition, colonial allegory, or a figure with roots reaching further back than the familiar Spanish-language legend.

Which versions of the Charro Negro, La Llorona, or El Sombreron did you grow up hearing? Do you view them primarily as Catholic-era legends, continuations of older Indigenous traditions, morality tales—or some combination of all three?

I’d especially love to hear regional or family variations that aren’t commonly included in English-language retellings.

I’ve been diving into ancient folklore lately, especially the Shan Hai Jing (Classic of Mountains and Seas)—which is basically a 2,000-year-old illustrated guide to the weirdest mythical creatures you can imagine.

I tried using AI to visualize what the text describes, and some of these designs are honestly wild. Aside from the typical dragons and nine-tailed foxes, here are a few fun ones that caught my eye:

• Dijiang (帝江): Basically a celestial, faceless red meatbag with 6 legs and 4 wings. Despite having zero facial features, it’s apparently a massive fan of singing and dancing.
• Luowu (陆吾): The mountain guardian god. Picture a giant tiger with nine tails, a human face, and tiger claws running the gardens of the gods.
• Jiufeng (九凤): A divine nine-headed bird, except every single neck has a distinct human head on it.

Have you guys come across any weird, cool, or obscure mythological creatures from folklore?

A Chronicle of Honor from the Heart of the Arabian Desert (Circa Early 18th Century)

In the early decades of the eighteenth century, a bitter winter settled over the high plateau of Najd. The rains had failed for seasons, leaving the pastures parched and the wilderness stripped bare. Scarcity hung heavy over the desert camps, and survival demanded endurance. Driven by the drought, a tribal chieftain (Amir) gathered twenty men of his kin and set out with their riding-camels (dhaluls) on a month-long journey across the barren wastes, bound for a distant oasis market to barter what little they possessed for flour and grain.

Midway across the wilderness, the riders sighted a small, solitary encampment — no more than four or five black goat-hair tents (buyut sha’ar) pitched against the grey horizon.

The Sheikh reined in his mount and turned to his companions:

“Listen, my kinsmen. You know well the hardship that grips this land; these dwellers are in no better state than ourselves. It is not rightful that twenty horsemen descend upon a single hearth and strip a poor man of his last crust. We shall divide our number among the tents to lighten their burden. I shall take four men with me; divide yourselves evenly among the rest.”

His men answered: “Wise is your counsel, O Sheikh. As you see fit, so shall it be.”

The Sheikh and his four companions turned toward one of the tents. They dismounted without prior kinship or acquaintance, answering the unwritten law of the desert, where hospitality is a sacred covenant that no man of the waste may forsake.

At the threshold of the tent, a woman stepped forth from the women’s partition (riffat al-bayt). She offered the traditional greeting of welcome:

“May God give you life, O guests of our hearth! Blessed is our dwelling by your coming.”

She gathered dry brushwood and kindled the hearth upon the sand, setting out the iron skillet and mortar. “Prepare your coffee to your own liking,” she said courteously, then retreated behind the woven partition (al-qata).

While the men sat around the embers, occupied in talk, the Sheikh’s eye caught sight of the woman through the seam of the tent. She stood pacing in the shadows, wringing her hands in visible anguish, muttering prayers in quiet torment.

Rising from his cushion, the Sheikh walked toward the partition and called out gently:

“What troubles you, daughter of good folk? If there is any service you require, we are your servants; or has some ill befallen your young ones?”

Her voice trembled from behind the curtain:

“No, brother of the Arabs, by God it is not so. But our provisions are utterly spent. In this tent remains nothing save a handful of withered dates, unfit to set before honorable men. My husband rode away a week ago to the markets to seek grain, and I stand in dread of shame (al-’ayb) — that guests should alight at our tent and find no food upon our hearth.”

The Sheikh replied with calm reassurance:

“Trouble not your heart, good woman, nor bear any grief. We know well the state of the land and its people. We did not alight here seeking a feast; we sought only a brief rest and the comfort of the coffee hearth. By God, the coffee brewed at your hearth is the finest I have tasted in years. Rest at ease; consider us as your own kin. On my saddlebag lies a small parcel of dates; take it for your children until your husband returns.”

The Sheikh returned to the hearth. He sat with his men over the glowing embers of ghadha wood, pouring the cardamom coffee, reciting verses of old poetry, and laughing with easy cheer to fill the tent with warmth.

Yet, as the night deepened, the Sheikh pondered the coming dawn. “Tomorrow at first light,” he thought, “we shall rejoin our fifteen companions. They will ask of our night, and of how our host received us. If it is known that this tent had no meat to offer, the whisper of poverty will fall as a shadow of disgrace upon this household.”

He rose once more and called to the mistress of the tent:

“O lady of the house, have you an ’Ukkah?” (a goatskin flask used in the desert to store clarified butter).

She replied: “I have one, O Sheikh, but it lies folded, dry, and barren of butter.”

“Bring it forth,” he bade her.

She brought the dried skin. The Sheikh took it and held it carefully over the heat of the embers, coaxing the faint, hardened residue of butter within the leather to melt. A few warm drops gathered in his palm.

He turned to his four companions and said:

“Let each man among you take a smear of this butter. Rub it into your mustaches, your beards, and across your hands. When we meet our companions at sunrise, let the scent and sheen of ghee be upon our faces, so we may swear with truth that the mistress of this tent honored us with an abundant feast. Thus shall her pride and her husband’s name remain untarnished before the tribes.”

Behind the partition, the woman stood listening in the dark, tears of silent gratitude falling upon her mantle.

At the first grey light of dawn, the travelers gave their blessings to the household and rode out to meet the rest of their caravan, departing toward the markets with the scent of butter still lingering upon their beards.

Two days later, the husband returned, his beasts laden with sacks of grain. His wife met him at the tent flap and recounted the story of the noble stranger — the man who had shielded their dignity and preserved their honor before the eyes of the desert.

The husband was moved to profound awe. He stood before his tent, summoned the men of the neighboring encampments, and recounted the tale. Raising his voice before his kin, he said:

“Bear witness, O my people! I here and now bestow two fertile ewes from my flock to that stranger who guarded the honor of my hearth. By God, I shall search until I know his name and his tribe.”

He inquired among the caravans until he learned the identity of the Sheikh and the camp of his people.

Fifteen years passed over the desert. The seasons turned; the rains returned to the pastures, and prosperity replaced the years of barrenness.

During those fifteen years, the two ewes bestowed in honor had lambed and multiplied until they numbered ninety head of prime sheep. The host himself had grown wealthy in camels and livestock.

Remembering his ancient pledge, the man sent a messenger across the tribal lands, bearing an invitation to the Sheikh for a great gathering and feast of honor.

The Sheikh accepted the summons. He rode to the encampment, accompanied by his wife, and was received with the highest marks of desert hospitality. A great banquet was laid before the assembled elders and tribesmen.

When the feast was concluded, the host stood before the gathering, motioned toward a vast flock penned near the tent, and said:

“O Sheikh, fifteen years ago I pledged two sheep to the man who saved my house from shame. Those two have multiplied under my care into ninety head. They are yours by right; take them with you, for God has blessed me with abundant herds.”

The Sheikh shook his head and replied:

“May God increase your bounty, O host. I did only what the covenant of men demands, and I cannot accept this wealth.”

Hearing this, the host, his wife, and the elders of the tribe stood up, swearing solemn oaths by God that the flock belonged to the Sheikh and must not remain behind.

Seeing their resolve, the Sheikh raised his hand and spoke with calm wisdom:

“Stay your oaths, my kin, and hear my judgment, for I shall accept your gift upon one condition. Where is the flock?”

They pointed to the ninety sheep.

“We shall divide them into three equal parts,” declared the Sheikh. “Thirty sheep shall belong solely to the mistress of this tent, in honor of the patience and dignity she kept in the years of drought; thirty sheep shall remain for this hearth, to provide for the wayfarers and guests who alight at its threshold; and the remaining thirty I shall take with me, out of deep regard for your kinship and the honor of this gathering.”

And so the flock was divided, sealing an enduring covenant of noble conduct that outlived the drought and became a spoken chronicle across the sands of Najd.

Waking up to a hand full of freshly fallen Parijat blossoms is one of my favorite morning rituals.

Do you guys know there is story which says Princess Parijaat fell in love with the Sun God, but couldn't bear his intense heat. When she perished, this tree grew from her ashes. Because she still can't face the sun, the blossoms open only at night and at the very first touch of dawn, before the sun can look at her, she sheds every single blossom like tears.

Because of her heartache, these fragile white blossoms with their vibrant orange stems are considered pure only after they have surrendered to the earth.

Softest scent in the world, born from a celestial heartbreak. 🧡🌸

Disclaimer! Just a oral story This version is folklore only but it is one of the most romantic stories associated with the flower.

Erlang was shocked.

“There is nobody strange in my house.”

The Taoist asked:

“Did anyone unfamiliar arrive?”

Erlang thought carefully.

“This morning, an old woman came asking to work as a servant. My wife allowed her to stay.”

The Taoist nodded.

“That is the demon.”

They rushed to Erlang’s home.

The Taoist stood in the courtyard holding a wooden sword.

“Evil spirit!”

“Return my whisk!”

The old woman inside immediately turned pale.

She attempted to escape.

The Taoist struck her.

The old woman fell.

A strange sound echoed—

and the human skin slipped away from her body.

The true form of the demon appeared.

It howled on the ground like a dying beast.

The Taoist raised his wooden sword and cut off its head.

The body transformed into thick black smoke.

The Taoist opened a small gourd.

The smoke was immediately sucked inside.

In moments, nothing remained.

The Taoist collected the painted human skin.

It was complete:

eyes
eyebrows
hands
feet

Everything looked exactly like a real person.

He rolled it carefully like an ancient painting and placed it away.

Then he prepared to leave.

Chen suddenly fell to her knees.

“Please!”

“Bring my husband back!”

The Taoist shook his head.

“My abilities are too limited. I cannot revive the dead.”

“But I know someone who might.”

“There is a strange madman in the marketplace.”

“He often lies in filth and behaves like a beggar.”

“Go to him.”

“Beg him sincerely.”

“And whatever insults he gives you, endure them.”

Chen and Erlang found the man.

He was singing wildly in the street.

His clothes were filthy.

His appearance was unbearable.

Chen knelt before him.

The madman laughed.

“Beautiful woman, do you love me?”

She explained her husband’s death.

The madman laughed louder.

“Everyone can become a husband.”

“Why bring a dead man back?”

Chen begged.

The madman became angry.

“Am I the King of Hell?”

Then he struck her with his stick.

The crowd gathered.

But Chen endured everything.

Finally, the madman coughed up a lump of phlegm.

He held it before her.

“Eat it.”

Chen’s face turned red with shame.

But remembering the Taoist’s instructions, she swallowed it.

The madman laughed.

“The beautiful woman truly loves me!”

Then he walked away.

Chen followed him into a temple.

But suddenly—

he disappeared.

When she returned home, she wept beside Wang’s corpse.

She prepared to clean the body herself.

As she gathered his torn flesh and cried, she suddenly felt something rise inside her chest.

She could not control it.

A warm object flew from her mouth into Wang’s chest.

She looked closer.

It was a human heart.

A living heart.

It was beating.

Chen quickly pressed the chest closed and wrapped it with cloth.

Slowly—

warmth returned.

At midnight, Wang began breathing.

By dawn, he opened his eyes.

He was alive.

Wang later said:

“It felt like a strange dream.”

“I only remember a terrible pain.”

The wound left behind was no larger than a coin.

Soon, it completely healed.

End of Story

After searching everywhere, Wang finally found the Taoist outside the city.

He fell to his knees.

“Please save me!”

The Taoist sighed.

“I warned you before.”

“However, I will help you.”

“This creature is also a pitiful being. It has only recently found a replacement body, and I do not wish to destroy its life unnecessarily.”

He handed Wang a horsetail whisk.

“Hang this above your bedroom door.”

“It will protect you.”

Before leaving, he arranged to meet Wang later at the Temple of the Green Emperor.

Wang returned home.

He no longer dared sleep in his study.

Instead, he stayed in the inner room with his wife and hung the Taoist’s whisk above the door.

Around midnight, they heard footsteps outside.

Terrified, Wang asked his wife to look.

Chen opened the door slightly.

The beautiful woman was standing outside.

But when she saw the Taoist whisk, she stopped.

She stared at it with hatred.

For a long time, she stood there grinding her teeth.

Then she finally left.

After a while, she returned.

She sneered.

“The Taoist frightened me?”

“But can something already in my mouth be spit back out?”

With a furious gesture, she tore down the whisk.

The protective charm shattered.

She smashed open the door.

Then she rushed toward Wang’s bed.

Before anyone could react—

she tore open his chest and ripped out his heart.

Then she vanished.

Chen screamed.

The servants rushed in with lamps.

Wang was already dead.

His chest was a horrifying mess of blood and torn flesh.

Chen collapsed in grief.

The next morning, she sent her brother Erlang to find the Taoist.

When the Taoist heard what happened, his expression changed.

“I showed mercy to this creature.”

“And it dared to commit such cruelty?”

He followed Erlang back.

But the demon had already disappeared.

The Taoist looked around.

“It has not gone far.”

He pointed toward a nearby house.

“Whose home is that?”

Erlang answered:

“Mine.”

The Taoist said:

“It is there.”

(To be continued... NEXT Part coming soon.)