Decapitated dolphin found on Saltdean beach
Saltdean resident Gilles Guichard made the grisly discovery on Tuesday afternoon. He said: “It was quite shocking. The head had completely gone and it was lying on a rock.”
The rest of the article talks up the possibility that the unfortunate dolphin may have been attacked by a shark, then talks it down again:
Steve Strange, the Sussex representative for the Seawatch Foundation, said: “There are cases of whales and dolphins that have died elsewhere floating around and then been hit by a boat. We do get sharks in the area but normally in the summer. They are likely to have moved somewhere they are more likely to find food.”
(Surely not that Steve Strange?)
(It is, frankly, unlikely to have been a shark attack, though if more local finds suggest otherwise, rest assured the Shoreline will be on the case: watching the waters, sensing the chthonic eddies, and generally smelling the breath of the beast.)
The news report is, of course, entirely silent regarding the esoteric ripples and resonances of this event, leaving it to the Shoreline to- how can I put it- read the entrails. So grab yourself a bit of driftwood, and let’s have a hack at the carcass.
In Greek mythology, dolphins were associated with Apollo, whose sanctuary was at Delphi: the name itself is probably a dolphin reference. Apollo rode to Deplhi on a dolphin (or swam there in the guise of one, depending on the version), before confronting and slaying the serpent Python, a monstrous snake-dragon which had prevented access to the sanctuary and which no mortal could defeat. Having killed Python with a single arrow, Apollo claimed the sanctuary.
The Ancient Greeks believed Deplhi was the Omphalos, the Navel (here synonymous with Centre) of the World. This sacred site is most famous for the Delphic Oracle:
The Delphic Oracle, known as the “Pythia”. This priestess would be seated on a tripod (Apollo’s symbol of prophecy) in a state of trance, the position of the tripod was situated above a fissure in the floor of the temple, from which arose strange hallucinating vapors. She would also be chewing laurel leaves, while in this trance she only mumbled her answer, which a high priest would translate into Apollo’s prophecy. Before this took place the supplicants (male only), which were known as Theopropes, had to be purified in a ritual washing ceremony which took place in the Castalian Spring. The Pythia also had to purify herself in the same manner before she performed her duties. The consultation would begin with a ritual sacrifice of an animal, but if the offering was not in a favorable condition and if cold water sprinkled onto the animal made it tremble the supplicant and the animal were turned away. From here the petitioners would enter the sanctum of the temple. Here the question, which had been previously written, was handed to the priest, who in turn asked the Pythia for Apollo’s answer. From her sometimes garbled muttering, the priest would translate into hexameter verse. The Pythia never gave a straight answer, Heraclitus the philosopher (circa 500 BCE) said. The oracle neither conceals nor reveals the truth, but only hints at it.
Rather like this blog then.
Could a decapitated dolphin represent vengeance for Python? A brutal eruption of serpent energy here on the Shoreline? Recently we considered the great World Serpent Ouroboros, its manifestations in this locality and its symbolism of recurrence and renewal. Is this the dark side of that current?
For the Greeks, dolphins were themselves associated with notions of renewal. They were conveyors of souls: the Cretans and Etruscans depicted dolphins as carriers of the dead, bringing the newly deceased to the Isles of the Blessed. Thus they were creatures with the power to cross the liminal threshold between worlds, and in this role were symbols of regeneration.
Ah, regeneration. The Eternal Wheel turns once again, and the phoenix rises in glory from the flames. Life triumphs over stasis, and all is well. Isn’t it wonderful? Well, yes it is. But in the face of this there can be no retreat into warm fuzzy feelgood mysticism: pain, fear, suffering, death, decay and putrefaction are all very real parts of the cycle- just as much as birth, love, art, music and the pursuit of knowledge. If we try to explain away the pain of the World as ‘just another part of the the cycle’ we diminish, gloss over, or even entirely deny it.
The symbolism of the Death card in the Tarot is often discussed in terms of regeneration- something is ending, but something new will arise in its place. Search online for discussion of Major Arcanum number 13, and you’ll see much reassuring talk of ‘new beginnings’, ‘fresh starts’, and the like. Well, OK. But let’s not forget the Death. And a decapitated dolphin is one hell of a memento mori.
Georges Bataille, with his base materialism, would doubtless have agreed with these sentiments, and there is a link here with Bataille’s Acephale (Headless), which was both a cultural journal and a secret society. There were five issues of Acephale, the journal, between 1936 and 1939. It was mostly written by Bataille himself, but also included contributions from the likes of Andre Masson and Roger Caillois. It was largely concerned with the ideas of Nietzsche, and with claiming Nietzsche back from the Fascists, who were by now rampant across Europe. And, by extension, it attempted to imbue the Left with a radical re-imagining of the powerful mythic forces so successfully appropriated and channelled by the far Right in this period. Bataille recognised that the Left’s po-faced secularism was lacking something in terms of magnetic appeal. A reproduction of Acephale 2 can be seen here (ignore the ads and download buttons though).
Acephale, the secret society, included the same people, more or less, and had the same agenda of radicalising the sacred… probably. No-one seems to know exactly what they got up to: phrases like ‘secret rites’ and ‘occult rituals’ come up in the brief accounts that are available, but I can find no detail beyond that. Legend has it that all the members of the group were intrigued by the notion of ritual sacrifice by beheading, and all agreed to be the victim in such a rite. But none would agree to be the executioner.
Whatever the truth, it seems clear that, for Bataille, a complete rejection of religion and mysticism could readily co-exist with an intense interest in these things for what they could reveal about the base material of the human condition. Contradiction? Well, the Shoreline is familiar with such contradictions, and offers the following advice: when you find yourself having to reconcile two apparently irreconcilable worldviews, zoom out, until you find a vantage point that gives a view that can encompass both, and hopefully many more besides.