#mythologymonday

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¡ATENCIÓN! El Gobierno de España vuelve a la carga para legitimar el uso de IA generativa en los rubros creativos ⚠️ Ahora resulta que Prometeo es el «democratizador» del fuego con el que justifican el uso de IAG 🤦 🔗 https://expinterweb.mites.gob.es/participa/listado?tramite=1&estado=1 Plazo para enviar aportaciones contra la IA generativa: hasta el 8 de octubre ✊🔥 #AI #Spain #genAI #tech #technology #Prometheus #Frankenstein #MythologyMonday #generativeAI #ChatGPT #IA #IAgenerativa #espana #art #artist #culture
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#MythologyMonday #Celtic: There were two monsters fighting in the sea one time, the Curruid and the Coinchenn their names were, and at the last the Coinchenn made for the strand to escape, but the other followed him and killed him there. Then Bolg, son of Buan, a champion of the eastern part of the world, found the bones of the Coinchenn on the strand, and he made a spear with them. And he gave it to a great fighting man, the son of Jubar, and it went from one to another till it came to the woman-champion, Aoife. And Aoife gave it to Cuchulain, and he brought it to Ireland. And it was with it he killed his own son, and his friend Ferdiad afterwards. Source: Cuchulain of Muirthemne by Lady Gregory

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#MythologyMonday #Celtic: In no wise could the sons of Turenn direct their magic boat to the Isle of Finchory, and a quarter of a year they traversed the seaways and never could get tidings of that island. At last Brian fashioned for himself by magic art a water-dress, with a helmet of crystal, and into the depths of the sea he plunged. Source: Project Gutenberg eBook of „The High Deeds of Finn, And Other Bardic Romances of Ancient Ireland“ by T. W. Rolleston

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#MythologyMonday #Celtic: While Fergus mac Róich lived in exile, his comrade in Ailill’s household was Lugaid the blind poet, to wit, a brother of Ailill’s was that Lugaid. Once after deeds of valour Fergus and Medb went swimming [i.e. in Lough Findloch (= Lough Carra)] on Mag Ai. And jealousy seized Ailill. “It is delightful what the hart and the doe are doing in the lake, O Lugaid,” said Ailill. “Why not kill them?” said Lugaid, who had never missed his aim. “Do thou have a cast at them!” said Ailill. “Turn my face towards them,” said Lugaid, “and bring a lance to me.” Fergus was washing himself in the lake, and his breast was towards them. And his chariot is brought to Ailill, so that it was near him; and Lugaid threw the lance, so that it passed out through his back behind. “The cast has gone home!” said Lugaid. “That is true,” said all; “it is the end of Fergus.” “How sad,” said Lugaid, “if I should have killed my foster-brother and comrade innocently”. Source:

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Bengkala is Indonesia's Village of the Deaf, where two witches fought and deafened one another, passing that on to their descendants and creating a unique sign language, Kota Kolak. Despite its reputation, only 2% of the population has genetic deafness. #MythologyMonday
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Greetings, Myth Lovers on BlueSky! Join us for the theme: DISABILITY. Write out your story & use the hashtag #MythologyMonday for boosts. Follow @ap.brid.gy so we can see your posts. @curiousordinary.bsky.social @pj-richards.bsky.social @nataljastgermain.bsky.social @beefolklore.bsky.social @psychescinema.bsky.social @joy13.bsky.social @mythcrafts.bsky.social
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#MythologyMonday: `Within the inner fort King Conor lay, surrounded by his chiefs, sunk deep in coward slumber each upon his couch; for Macha’s hand lay heavy on them all, and her revenge was come. But in the playing-fields outside, the Boy-corps still kept up their sports, and played at mimic warfare as of yore, though all their chiefs and teachers were asleep; Then up rode Sualtach upon the Grey, and three times over he gave forth his cry. “Your men are being slain,” he cried, “your cattle driven away, your women fall as captives to the men of Erin. In wild Murthemne’s plain Cuchulain all alone still held the foemen back until the fight with Ferdia robbed him of his strength. Wounded in every joint Cuchulain lies, his gaping sores stuffed in with sops and bits of grass, his clothes held on with spikes of hazel twigs. On Emain Macha press the enemy, all eastern Ulster is in their hands; Ailill and Meave have harried all your coasts. Ulster, Arise, arise!” After a while, as for the third time the voice of Sualtach came floating through the hall, one of the Druids stirred and said, “Who is the fellow brawling in the court? Fitting it were to take his head from him.” “Fitting it were, indeed,” replied the King, “and yet I think the thing he says is true.” And all the warriors muttered in their sleep, “Fitting it were, indeed.” #Celtic Source: Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster, by Eleanor Hull
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