List of Publicized Tapphic Documents

# The Spider’s Infinite Struggle; Absurd Tapphic Joy

(An adaptation of the 10th verse of the Kalchiteka, designed to reach a wider audiance)

Ponder this scenario briefly: You are walking along a forest path, leisurely and without any excess grievance for some time. You notice quickly a beautiful white spider, spinning its web. As the hapless creature toils relentlessly, you none the wiser to it's efforts beyond the scintillating beauty of the web, you remark to yourself: "What a beautiful design! Truly this spider is a master artist." Content with your observation, you continue on your way with brisk pace, unable to realize that the wind and dust you've kicked up with your stride has now damaged the spiders work. The spider continues to weave it's web, attempting to undo the damage. By the end of the day, it has completed it, and is very hungry. It now struggles as it waits for it's prey, and in it's patience may starve.

Now you see, the spider acts as a channel for it's own drive to exist. It's action serve to preserve it's life in a world that may work against it's interests. Taking this concept a bit further, we can look at the web. You, the monk, view this web as a beautiful work of art. The spider views it as it's means of survival, in a sense. Perhaps it may not subjectively understand it as such, but its actions, that which drives it's reality, exhibit a tendency toward such a will. The web then must by function be just that. A spider web is simply a tool to enable survival. If it has any meaning, it is just that. But the spider does not take heed of this harrowingly morbid fact. It works to survive and does just that, driven by such. If anything, it may be boastful, a bit confident of the construction of it's incredibly functional, and by insect standards, incredibly deadly tool. Where our beauty is within the construction and form of the web, the spider's beauty is within it's ability to support it's own life. It becomes a microcosm, entrenched within itself, a world within a world, and something far above the spider. A symbol. That which humanity can observe and draw wisdom from.

Now ponder a separate scenario: You are now Tapphos, tending to Erdeweber. Refrain from indulging this vision and focus on the duty therein. You are charged with mending the broken lines within the web. You restore the souls of the dead, allowing them to recover from permanent damage. Frequently do you find these lines, gray and dead. Circumstance, then finds that, for one, the web is damaged. Second, presuming that Tapphos, you, are NOT omnipotent, as some previous scholars have argued against, we can only assume that you are still on some level subjected to force beyond even your control. There is some force that supersedes your ability to work perfectly. You are opposed, you must toil because of this, and ultimately, you as Tapphos still suffer.

Both Tapphos and man may suffer work, but there is example within this maddening revelation. Like a spider weaving it's web, we too, along with our Lord, must act BECAUSE of forces beyond our control. We are made and maker, in a sense. Those things which we create are functional, and in some ways beautiful. Our mind understands the aesthetics of mathematics and the beauty of a well formed sculpture, because these are the same. And yet, at the same time, are we not beautiful as well? We are of the same web as those things we admire, and in following them we grow stronger. But beyond that, in being created, we are beautiful in some way, functional or otherwise. In creating, that which we work towards becomes beautiful. The very act of creation is beautiful, and on that note we progress to the topic of suffering and work, and finding joy within the connections.

To work is to suffer. To be unable to communicate with perfect clarity begets suffering as well. Pain has been argued as a force to deter damage, a gift. But ultimately, Tapphic wisdom understands that the mismatch between man's desires and expectations, and their reality, is the true source of suffering. Reality itself is inherently a source of suffering, and an act of work. Action can easily be thought of as suffering as well, as the action of Tapphos begets our circumstance, and our action begets it's suffering. However, we in our generous reverence understand, perhaps relying on that wonderful sense of requirement within man that sees him turn head to that unseen benevolent force above, that Tapphos truly creates because it has no choice, as well as wishing to generate beauty. And it seems Tapphos too sees our work in a beauteous manner, affording us many freedoms and never truly punishing us for our actions. It seems that to it, life is beautiful as well. Work, suffering even, then may be beautiful.

So then: if life is suffering, if we may never get what we expect simply on a random whim, how does the spider view its web as beautiful? It seems to assign it's own symbolism, it's own purpose, to it's life. The spider builds the web both because it was made to and because it becomes the spider's purpose. It's embrace of the incoming suffering only ensures that it works towards a reality far from that suffering. The work of life then is an avenue away from suffering and towards freedom from pain and illusion. What of Tapphos, if this is true? It works to ensure the beauty of this world. It does so because it accepts the suffering to come, and is now free of all suffering, for it both knows it will arrive and works to overcome it.This is the will of all living creatures: to live and escape coming suffering. Humanity is no different, if not for the horrible blinds of illusion. We are not knowledgeable creatures, for we come into the world with none. We are poured into like a pot, until we can use what we store inside. Strengthening this internal power is only part of the picture however, for when combined with the will to survive, the pursuit of beauty, and the strength of action. So then, the secret to overcoming suffering lies within the spider's work.

You must learn to accept all of those things that come. Paradoxically, suffering is no longer an enemy when greeted as a friend. It is an absurd truth; power to overcome all suffering lays within removing illusion and working towards those things that will best preserve the functionality and beauty of those systems around you. This path will require suffering, but you will rush headlong into the absurd, and meaningless. You will assign your own meaning to yourself, based on your ability, and your own function: your own beauty. As long as you understand that suffering cannot hurt you, it will not. Despite being controlled by circumstance as the spider is, we are free to act despite suffering, thus we defy it. We smile while we suffer, because those moments are the joke of an old friend, already greeted and deeply understood, and of course, we fire back. And we find absurd joy.

# Pre-Tapphic Document #1

> *“[[19]For so holy, the Ever-Living Vethys and Ringing Eathos did give life to everything, that the world may be more colorful.*
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> *[20]And so this gift is remembered.”*
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> – Unknown Pre-Tapphic Document #1 (Title Verse)
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*[This Document was discovered 1/5/22 by the Ganzseher. A legible myth follows:]*

“In the land of Gutaya, lord of the eastern swamp, lived a shepard named Thialkes, son of Abasi, son of Teth. He enjoyed his life, and was content with his station. His animals were well fed, and he found no trouble where he roamed, as he lived his life within good kita.

In the land of Gutaya, lived Gutaya, of course, as well. Gutaya was hungry, and awoke with a rumble before setting out to find food. He quickly encountered Thiakles.

In the land of Gutaya, near the swamp, lived the alpaca, favorite of Gutaya. It was the animal he chose to eat. Before Gutaya reached his meal, Thiakles protected his livestock, throwing himself between the entity and his animals.

‘Yugo se’kap Palt iyasu (roughly: And then the Sky greened,

Perkulo te ki’Siindugus’ (The whole-world Changed)

*[Note: This looks to be some form of written tradition; the verse here both symbolizes and literally stands in for the introduction of the monsters and beginning of the pre-Tapphic Exile. It appears as a motif before something magical/terrible happens]*

Gutaya became Du’guta. Du’guta was outraged at the disrespect Thiakles had shown him as lord of the swamp. He stomped and summoned his hordes of bandit-men. They stole Thiakles away.

Thiakles found himself in a camp for the bandit-men. They brandished flags and crossbows, and Du’guta commanded them to kill and divide Thiakles’ livestock amongst themselves. Thiakles was chained, and his head was hung low. He prayed to himself, for all manner of miracle and aide. Eathos was silent, Sky-Spear, the gilded Boar, Mother Tapa, Hiltu, each of the lords had abandoned him.

He searched his mind, hoping any other name would arrive. His body was tired, and his spirit was quiet. Then he searched his heart. He wondered about his family. His wife would never see him again… Pal’tora..

No sooner than he said her name to himself did he feel a rumbling in the ground. Du’guta turned to face the sound, as well as his bandit-men, stomping their fervent stomp. As the sound grew to be upon them, the wall suddenly burst forth. A screaming sound pierced the air as the camp was torn to shreds by whatever had entered. Thiakles could not see what had happened through the dust… But as it settled, he recognized the shape.

He was seated in front of an Alfaant. It untied him and lifted him to his feat. It was a monstrous creature, and it towered over anything he had ever seen. In pleading for his loved one, their vow had summoned a protector, who came and saved him. He and the creature stood there for a long time. Then it stumbled over to a pile of broken planks before rummaging through it with their trunk. It fished something out… a set of tusks. The alfaant began to wander off. Thiakles ran after it.

As thanks for saving him, he decorated the creature with the finest ornamentation he owned. Then, he named it Pal’tora, and inscribed the name on it’s side. Pal’tora: the protector of all men, governess of the Pa’kita.

# The Owl and the Crow

The story you are about to hear is one you may know, for it remains the oldest living religious tale in Iaddithis today… It predates us by some 5000 years, and reaches even further backwards in its scope. Today, we tell the Tapphic version, but we know that it came before the first Tawusil, before the tribe of Avazi split and followed the Elvish King away, and before even the Great Empire of Amat stood on its stone foundations…

The Owl and the Crow, or “Wherefore Suns Ascend?”

At Time’s first breath, the great Mother Yad pulled away from her siblings to explore their newly created universe. Her power sheared a realm away from the others, just as the other Elders were to do, and this realm became the Overworld. The others pulled away the Deep Fire, and the Null, layered one on top of the other.

Hinged at center of the realm was Iaddithis, and on it Yad cast new life. This was when all the animals of the world were like us, and spoke like we may have, and when the forces began to sublimate from the world… Iaddithis was a beautiful paradise. However, neither Sun nor Moon existed, and the world was without color. Yad sought to fix this, and made herself heirs, and a court out of the animals. She charged them to bring color to the world, and they thought to themselves on how to do so. The Owl was known as one of the wisest animals in the land, and she began to craft a plan.

The Owl looked upward, and thought to herself: “Would it not be best for the color to come from the sky? That way it may reach all the lands, as all lands open to the sky.” So, she petitioned the Elder of the Deep Fire for an eternal flame, one to power such a magical object. She was granted her request, and placed the flame into the sky. The Sun came into being, and now all could see. The Owl however realized quickly that she would have to spin the fire to keep it going, just as our world was spun by Yad for our time to flow. So, the Owl being clever as she was, used this spinning world to power it. She would walk the world in cycles, and use this to spin the Sun. For her invention, and for her dedication, the Owl was given the Seat of a Lord, giving her dominion over the Sun and the creatures of the Day.

There was, however, a Crow. She was ragged, and scattered about to eat whatever or whoever she may come across. In her killing and ignorance, she boasted of herself and her might. She wanted a Seat of Lordship for herself. So, she conspired to copy the invention. She fashioned a shiny rock into a sphere by dunking it in the river every night, pulling the tides with it. Whenever the Sun was poised to retreat, the Crow would parade her stone, and convince the animals of the Darkness that this would bring light to the night as well, something that the Owl could not even do. So she placed it in the Sky as well, and it was the Moon. Its light was dim, and it only used the Sun’s strength, adding to the burden on the Owl.

The Moon, which spun on its own to face us, and which shined without power, disgusted Yad. She was disappointed in the Crows lack of creativity. However, it did impress the Null Elder quite nicely. He granted the Crow a Seat of Lordship, giving her dominion over the Night and its creatures. Soon after, Mother Yad had fallen.

One day, the Crow saw the Owl on her rounds, and began coveting the bright power of the Sun for herself. She proposed a plan. The Spider was now Elder Lord, and he ensured Iaddithis was now embedded within a beautiful, yet invisible red web that covered its vast span and continued its spin. The animals became enmeshed in it, and when one got closer to the Spider, they risked more and more to become ensnared and caught within it. This was the trap of the Truth, and the Higher Mind. The Crow sought to use this to trap the Owl, and so she ran over to her. She pleaded with her: “You must help me find the Moon, it was stolen from me by that nasty Baboon!” The Owl was sympathetic, and followed the Crow. When they made it near the edge of the dangerous snares, the Crow maneuvered the Owl into it, where she was quickly tangled. She was stuck fast.

The Crow consumed the Sun, and became a Raven. As many early Tawusil say: The Sky turned green, and all the world changed again. The Owl was saddened, and called for the Spider to help her out. The Spider could be heard but not seen: “I cannot help you. You must pass through the Web of your own mind.” The Owl was taken aback, and responded: “How can I do this?” So, the Spider taught the Owl: “The Web is your own mind. The Web is the Universe. To which are you fixed? If you are fixed not to one, nor the other, nor any which else, what may snare you?” The Owl was upset, and responded: “You yourself are stuck here, tending to your creations. How can you be free if you still exist here?”

It is said that at this moment, the Owl began to slip through the webs, for she came closer to the secret of the Higher Mind. The Spider was highly impressed. He then gifted her his own boon; the Spider gave the Owl the ability to see where the web truly was. She would never be stuck again, and she would reach the Higher Mind at her discretion, to which she dedicated herself. The Sun itself reflected, and with the Web under the Owl’s ability to avoid, the Sun spun itself in the Ravens belly, joining all of the worlds rotation. Upon this, they endeavored to retrieve the Sun from the Raven. The Lord Spider crafted a fine dagger to smite the Raven, and a tome of Magics for her Lordship, and handed it to the Owl.

The Owl sought out the Raven with the dagger. When the Raven saw her, she took both the Sun and the Moon, hid it under a cloak, and fled with them. The Owl gave chase, using her eyes and her magics to track the Raven around the world. When they reached the Trap of the High Mind, the Raven flew too close, and became ensnared. Her eyes had become used to the darkness of the Moon, and could not see. The Owl took the dagger and cut the Raven open, pulling out the Sun, and blinding the Crow.

After they had left, the Crow began to die, and as it’s mind slipped, it too slipped from the web, taking the Dagger, and beginning the cycle again… When the Owl continued her trek through the world as a Lord, she brought the Sun, ever spinning, and the Day with it. When she reached the other side, the dark parts of the world, she would be caught by the Lord Crow, and killed, before being reborn as the Owl. She would fly with all her might, silently avoiding the Crow’s wrath, until she caught up and they battled, bringing the Owl’s victory and the Sunrise. And it is said that every day, every year, and every 1000 years after, this cycle happens, powering our world…