#Petraio

[illneverbeapassenger]

Gradini del Petraio, Napoli. 31/01/23

[gennarocapodanno]

Vomero: subito l'attuazione del progetto della "Città obligua" con i fondi del PNRR, per una ZTL estesa a tutto il quartiere

Solo così si potranno risolvere una volta e per sempre gli annosi problemi del traffico caotico e del conseguente smog La Pedamentina di San Martino “ Che fine ha fatto il progetto della “Città obliqua”? ” A porre ancora una volta l’interrogativo è Gennaro Capodanno, presidente del Comitato Valori collinari, che da tempo si batte per la rivalutazione dei percorsi pedonali che collegano la…

[a--piedi--nudi]

[journeytothewestresearch]

Mythological Horse Girls

It recently dawned on me that Sun Wukong from Chinese myth and Poseidon from Greek myth have something in common: they are both the god of horses!

1. Background

Sun Wukong

In chapter four of Journey to the West (Xiyouji, 西遊記, 1592), Monkey is invited to heaven to serve as the Bimawen (弼馬溫, “To assist horse temperament”), a minor post overseeing the celestial horse stables (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 148). He takes the position seriously, caring for nearly 1,000 horses day and night, making sure they are all well-fed, exercised, and rested (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 149). His position gives him power over all horses, even those of mortal stock. Chapter 14 reads:

When the horse saw [Wukong], its torso slackened and its legs stiffened. In fear and trembling, it could hardly stand up. For you see, that monkey had been a [Bimawen], who used to look after dragon horses in the celestial stables. His authority was such that horses of this world inevitably would fear him when they saw him (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 309). [1]

Poseidon

He is considered the creator or even father of horses. Hard (2019) explains:

He was widely worshipped as Poseidon Hippios (the Lord of Horses), horses played a prominent part in his cult, and legend even presented him as the father of the first horse. [...] A legend from Thessaly in the north-east, which was a centre for the breeding of horses, represented Poseidon as the progenitor of the entire equine race. For when he had once been lying asleep in that land (where he was honoured under the title of Petraios, ‘he of the rock’), he had shed some of his semen on to the rocky ground, fertilizing the earth and so causing it to bring forth the first horse, Scyphios. Or, in some later accounts, he caused that earth to bring forth Scyphios (and Areion too in one version) by striking the ground with his trident. Or, in secondary versions that were developed at Athens, Poseidon fertilized the ground at Colonos, just outside the city, to produce the first horse, here called Sceironites, or else caused it to spring from the ground with a blow of his trident while competing with Athena for possession of Attica (pp. 126 and 127).

Astute readers will notice that Poseidon's other title, Petraios ("He of the Rock"), and ability to create life from stone is also related to Sun Wukong. You can read more about divine lithic births here.

2. Horse Girls Unite!

I previously thought of a UA where Heracles, guardian of the Buddha, is called in place of Erlang to end Monkey's rebellion in chapter six. And after Wukong achieves Buddhahood in chapter 100, the Tathagata asks Heracles to take Monkey through the Greek World system. There, the Victorious Fighting Buddha would no doubt learn of Poseidon's connection to horses.

I think both would bond over a mutual love for horses, perhaps geeking out about the subject for hours.

Notes:

1) This power was given to Monkey by the Jade Emperor, who gives him the Bimawen post. This was pointed out to me by Irwen Wong of the Journey to the West Library blog.

Sources:

Hard, R. (2019). The Routledge Handbook of Greek Mythology (8th ed.). United Kingdom: Taylor & Francis.

Wu, C., & Yu, A. C. (2012). The Journey to the West (Vols. 1-4) (Rev. ed.). Chicago, Illinois: University of Chicago Press.

[delectablywaywardbeard-blog]

'Shock in my tango', live a Napoli nuovo disco tango e jazz

“Shock in my tango” è il disco strumentale del chitarrista napoletano Mario Musetta che verrà eseguito dal musicista insieme al Muma Ensemble sabato 16 dicembre alle 21 al Porto Petraio a Napoli (Salita Petraio 18D), centro culturale artistico, fondato da Sara D’Ajello Caracciolo.     Nella serata tra i vicoli e lunghe scale che collegano il centro di Napoli al Vomero, ci sarà la presentazione…

[cpiscitelli]

Porto Petraio- Primo e secondo movimento- #finoallafine #painting #dance #drawing #people #dancing #studiolife https://www.instagram.com/p/CqL4407Mg5Y/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[lospeakerscorner]

Dialoghi per raccontare Napoli

Dialoghi per raccontare Napoli

Dialoghi di Comunità di Accogliere ad Arte, con un appuntamento dedicato al racconto di Napoli, con Francesca Amirante e Silvio Perrella.  NAPOLI – Come si racconta una città? Percorrendo le sue strade, entrando nei suoi spazi con i cinque sensi e assorbendo odori, voci e la sua materia. Attraverso un dialogo sincero, moderato dalla giornalista Natascia Festa, il prossimo  giovedì 16 dicembre…

[eppuresoffia]

MODEL: @mc.cocco MUA: @robertaf_mua #model #scaledelpetraio #petraio #petraionapoli #ig_napoli #travelsitaly #street #ilovenapoli #napoli #naples #portrait #fashion #olympusphotography #olympusem1mark2 #ldegphoto #igersnapoli #picoftheday #siamofiglidel_vesuvio #naples_insider #living_napoli #living_campania #visitnaplesofficial #shotz_of_campania #ioscatto_napoli #visitnaples #modellaitaliana #weheartnaples #jammanapoli #shooting #shot_italia (presso Discesa Petraio) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDgpCWFDAXx/?igshid=12cuycy6ksrec

[fichera]

∞ 0155 Napoli, 30 dicembre 2017

[ritroviamocida]

Dove ci ritroviamo?

Oggi siamo sulle colline del Vomero, precisamente “IL PETRAIO”. Questa scala di Napoli regala tanti scorci magnifici sulla città, veramente magica e non conosciuta da tutti. Vi sembrerà di stare su un’isola. Ma perché si chiama “IL PETRAIO”? Il termine Petraio non deriva dal nome di una cava di pietre, ma da un luogo dove le piogge alluvionali depositano i ciottoli; il tracciato della salita…

[yourlocalaphrodisian]

Hear me, Poseidon Soter, Epaktaios, Petraios

Queller of Calamity, He holding the reigns of the Waters, He who averts the course of rivers

Hear me, Aphrodite Anadyomene, Pontogenes, Apostrophia

Averting One, Sweetest Goddess, Queen of Heaven

Hear me, Zeus Melikhios, Soter, Katharsios

Good God, Saving One, Averter of Calamity

If ever hath I pleased you in words or actions.

Save my nation Gods. Poseidon, my Lord, as you had averted the stones in Thessaly to pave way for the Peneios. Reverse your actions Lord, for Surma overflows. Calm her, Lord. Take her by hand and calm her misery so my people may cease to suffer.

Mother, Goddess who I praise the most, I beg thee Goddess. Animating One, you put rivers to motion. Then calm the currents, my Lady, of Surma. She who flowed with calmness and mirth once, let her Grace be good again.

Lord Zeus, ye King of Gods and men. You who command everything. Decree Surma to flow softer, God. Let her Waters recede.

A flood is among us, Gods. For a century we were worry less. Now again, O Lords in Heaven, save us as you did a hundred years ago. Calm the rivers again.

[dragormir]

Okay, does anybody remember the scene with Andrey and Goncharov flying down the Petraio on a motorcycle, or did I just hallucinate that entire thing?

[flipchild]

5.

I was overcome by an exhaustion that, no matter how much I rested, wouldn’t go away. For the first time, I skipped school. I was absent, I think, for some two weeks, and not even to Antonio did I say that I couldn’t stand it anymore, I wanted to stop. I left home at the usual time, and wandered all morning through the city. I learned a lot about Naples in that period. I rummaged among the used books in the stalls of Port’Alba, unwillingly absorbing titles and authors’ names, and continued toward Toledo and the sea. Or I climbed the Vomero on Via Salvator Rosa, went up to San Martino, came back down by the Petraio. Or I explored the Doganella, went to the cemetery, wandered on the silent paths, read the names of the dead. Sometimes idle young men, stupid old men, even respectable middle-aged men pursued me with obscene offers. I quickened my pace, eyes lowered, I escaped, sensing danger, but didn’t stop. In fact the more I skipped school the bigger the hole that those long mornings of wandering made in the net of scholastic obligations that had imprisoned me since I was six years old. At the proper time I went home and no one suspected that I, I, had not gone to school. I spent the afternoon reading novels, then I hurried to the ponds, to Antonio, who was very happy that I was so available. He would have liked to ask if I had seen Sarratore’s son. I read the question in his eyes, but he didn’t dare ask, he was afraid of a quarrel, he was afraid that I would get angry and deny him those few minutes of pleasure. He embraced me, to feel me compliant against his body, to chase away any doubt. At those moments he dismissed the possibility that I could insult him by also seeing that other.

He was wrong: in reality, although I felt guilty, I thought only of Nino. I wanted to see him, talk to him, and on the other hand I was afraid to. I was afraid that he would humiliate me with his superiority. I was afraid that one way or another he would return to the reasons that the article about my quarrel with the religion teacher hadn’t been published. I was afraid that he would report to me the cruel judgments of the editors. I couldn’t have borne it. While I drifted through the city, and at night, in bed, when I couldn’t sleep and felt my inadequacy with utter clarity, I preferred to believe that my text had been rejected for pure and simple lack of space. Let it diminish, fade. But it was hard. I hadn’t been equal to Nino’s brilliance, and so I couldn’t stay with him, be listened to, tell him my thoughts. What thoughts, after all? I didn’t have any. Better to eliminate myself —no more books, grades, praise. I hoped to forget everything, slowly: the notions that crowded my head, the languages living and dead, Italian itself that rose now to my lips even with my sister and brothers. It’s Lila’s fault, I thought, if I started down this path, I have to forget her, too: Lila always knew what she wanted and got it; I don’t want anything, I’m made of nothing. I hoped to wake in the morning without desires. Once I was emptied I imagined the affection of Antonio, my affection for him will be enough.

Ferrante 2012. The Story of a New Name, tr. Goldstein. pp. 28-30.

[istantidime]

Il Petraio (Napoli)

[martinamartinoph]

Discesa Petraio, Napoli

[everythinggoodintheworldblog]

Napoli, rampe del Petraio Photos Comments