#marble temple manufacturers

[pandeymarble]

Why Marble Temple is used in place of Worship

Marble temples hold a special place in the hearts of devotees and worshippers worldwide. Their serene beauty, durability, and spiritual significance make them a popular choice for places of worship. In this blog, we will explore why marble temples are preferred, the significance of using marble for sacred structures, and how Pandey Marble Moorti and Handicrafts, a renowned marble temple manufacturer, contributes to this timeless tradition. We will also delve into the cultural and spiritual importance of marble in crafting sacred statues, such as the marble Shiv Parvati statue.

The Aesthetic and Spiritual Appeal of Marble

Marble, with its naturally radiant and pure white appearance, has long been associated with divinity and purity. This material exudes a sense of calm and tranquility, making it an ideal choice for temples where peace and meditation are central to the worship experience. The visual appeal of marble temples lies in their pristine and elegant design, which not only enhances the overall ambiance of the place of worship but also elevates the spiritual atmosphere.

Marble is also highly versatile, allowing artisans to craft intricate and detailed designs that are both beautiful and meaningful. Temples made from marble often feature intricate carvings and motifs that depict various deities, mythological scenes, and religious symbols, adding depth and significance to the structure. A marble temple is more than just a place to pray; it is a work of art that reflects devotion and reverence.

Durability and Longevity

One of the key reasons why marble temples are preferred is their durability. Marble is a natural stone that can withstand the test of time, making it a practical choice for structures that are meant to last for generations. Unlike other materials that may degrade or lose their charm over time, marble retains its beauty and strength, ensuring that the temple remains a revered space for worship for years to come.

Pandey Marble Moorti and Handicrafts, a leading marble temple manufacturer, understands the importance of quality and craftsmanship. Their marble temples are not only aesthetically pleasing but also built to last. Using high-quality marble sourced from the best quarries, their skilled artisans create temples that are both timeless and durable, making them a valuable addition to any place of worship.

The Role of Marble in Sacred Statues

In addition to marble temples, marble is also widely used to create sacred statues of deities. These statues are central to Hindu worship practices, serving as physical representations of the divine. The Marble Shiv Parvati statue, for instance, is a popular choice among devotees who seek blessings from Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati.

The smooth and polished surface of marble allows for the creation of lifelike and detailed statues that capture the essence of the deities they represent. The natural beauty of the stone enhances the divine qualities of the statues, making them a focal point of devotion and prayer. Marble statues are not just decorative pieces; they are sacred objects that hold deep spiritual significance.

Pandey Marble Moorti and Handicrafts specializes in crafting exquisite marble Shiv Parvati statues, among other divine figures. Their artisans pay meticulous attention to detail, ensuring that each statue is a true representation of the deity's attributes and symbolism. By using high-quality marble, they create statues that are not only visually stunning but also spiritually uplifting.

Cultural Significance of Marble Temples

Marble has been used in temple construction for centuries, with many ancient temples still standing today as testaments to the material's durability and cultural significance. In Indian culture, marble is often associated with purity, making it a favored material for temples where rituals and ceremonies are performed. The coolness of marble also provides a comfortable environment for worshippers, especially in regions with warm climates.

Marble temples are not just architectural structures; they are symbols of faith and devotion. They are places where people come together to seek solace, offer prayers, and connect with the divine. The use of marble in temple construction reflects the importance of creating a sacred space that is both beautiful and enduring.

Conclusion

The preference for marble temples in places of worship is rooted in both aesthetic and practical considerations. Marble's natural beauty, durability, and spiritual significance make it the ideal material for temples and sacred statues. Pandey Marble Moorti and Handicrafts, a trusted marble temple manufacturer, continues to uphold this tradition by creating exquisite marble temples and statues that inspire devotion and reverence. Whether you are looking for a marble Shiv Parvati statue or a custom-designed temple, their craftsmanship and attention to detail ensure that each piece is a true work of art.

For those seeking to create a sacred space that reflects their faith and devotion, marble remains the material of choice. Its timeless appeal and enduring strength make it a fitting tribute to the divine, ensuring that places of worship continue to inspire and uplift the spirit for generations to come.

[marbletemples]

Discover the Finest Marble Temples to Infuse Spirituality into your Space

We all build our new homes or renovate the old ones with lots of dreams and passion to make the space the reflection of our personality. Temples are one such space in the homes which are places for meditation and calmness for everyone in the family.

Source Link: https://www.gossipposts.com/discover-the-finest-marble-temples-to-infuse-spirituality-into-your-space/

[avinashmoortiemporium]

Best Marble Temple Manufacturer in India - Avinash Moorti Emporium

Avinash Moorti Emporium, the best marble temple manufacturer in India. As the leading expert in crafting customized marble temples, we take pride in creating masterpieces that elevate your spiritual space. Our collection includes outdoor marble temples that seamlessly blend beauty with durability, making them ideal for both indoor and outdoor

[sahestatellc]

Marble Temple Manufacturer

SAH ESTATE LLC is a premier marble temple manufacturer, specializing in creating exquisite, custom-designed temples for various spaces. Our expert artisans use high-quality marble and intricate craftsmanship to ensure each piece is unique and beautiful. For top-notch marble temple solutions, contact us at ☎ +971 54 340 3066 today!

[ssmoortiart11]

Order Best Quality Marble Temple For Home

It is important to consider what type of marble temple will be good for your home. Also check their quality, size, and design before buying a marble temple for home as per the aesthetic of your home. Here, Sai Shradha Moorti Art has many marble temples in different colors, designs, and patterns at affordable rates because we are the leading marble temple manufacturer in Jaipur, India.

Contact us for Custom-sized Marble Temple: +91-7976419167 Order now: https://www.saishradhamoortiart.com/marble-temple.html

[bhuvneshwarimoortiart]

How to Install Marble Ram Darbar Statue at Home

Installing a Marble Ram Darbar Statue isn't just putting a piece of creation down; it is in reality bringing the presence of divinity within your living premises.

Source Link: https://www.bhuvneshwarimoortiart.com/blog/install-ram-darbar-statue-at-home

[starmurtimuseum]

Buy Marble Mandir Online

Discover divine beauty at Star Murti Museum's online store. Buy exquisite marble mandirs online and adorn your home with sacred elegance.

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Loneliest

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Synopsis: For the longest time, you always thought you could only see them. And then you met that priest

(Warnings: dark content, manipulation, implied non-con, geto commits elder abuse)

You're not sure what they're called, but you know they aren't good. 

Demons, you settled on calling them. They were ugly, disfigured, often garbed in dark, dull colors. Nothing about them was benevolent. You'd often see them sitting on people's shoulders, practically sucking their souls dry. The small ones were easy to ward off. Usually, they'd go away on their own after a few days. A weekend of relaxation was usually all people needed to get rid of them.

From what you knew, no one else could see them. In your younger days, it'd been isolating, terrifying. Now, you are a bit grateful none of your peers could see what you could. How they'd react, you couldn't tell. 

You barely even blink when your neighbor asks if you could give her a ride to the temple, ignoring the thing that rests on her shoulders. It's bigger than what you've normally seen, with wings and human teeth. She's an older woman, with kind smiles, rambling about how she heard that the nearby temple was offering body exorcisms, how much her back hurt. You don't mention that the monks and priests or any religious figures are all fakes who lie for money. You've never met a single priest who could see what you see. 

You say nothing because it wouldn't sway her either way. Besides, it was free. 

The temple was swathed in money, just as you expected it to be. Grand pillars, clean tile floors. Money wasted on gold staircases and shiny vases. On a whim, you followed your neighbor in anyway, passing by the temples' followers. The one thing that you did note, was the significant lack of demons in the area. 

You expected the Buddhist priest to be old, an ancient being that pretended to be wise. To your surprise, you were led to a man who might have been the same age as you, if not a bit younger. He was dressed in a monk's robe, he sat on the floor, resting his chin on his arm. A closed-lipped smile was spread across his face, dripping in faux-sweetness. 

You obediently stayed silent while your neighbor prattled on about her incident. He nodded along, but it was clear he didn't really care about what she was saying. You knew what he would do. He'd coo at her misery, give her beads that would do nothing, and send her on her way. A harmless waste of time, really. The demon won't stay forever. 

There's a twitch of his fingers. The demon leering over her body is suddenly sucked away from her, into his outstretched hand. The only evidence it leaves behind is a single marble. 

"Better?" he asks, with no change of tone. That same emotionless lilt. 

Your neighbor gushes, rolling her shoulders, saying that she's never felt this way in years. You can only watch the priest with widened eyes as your neighbor is led away by a woman with a tablet in her hand. The ball rolls along his fingers, like he too admires it. 

"How-how did you do that?" You finally ask. 

For the first time since you entered that room, his eyes meet yours. Brown, almost black. He tilts his head, wordlessly asking you to repeat yourself. 

"The demon," you press, "how did you get rid of the demon?" 

The smile slips, and he sits up ever so slowly. For a moment, you think you've done something incredibly wrong as he stands to his full height. The priest easily towers over you, you're dwarfed by his unfathomable height. He stops when he's a few feet away, assessing you. 

"You can see them," it's a statement, not a question, "the curses."

"Is that what they're called?" You eagerly ask, "Curses?" 

The smile is more real now, less manufactured. 

"You have a rare gift," he says, "truly one of a kind." 

Back then, you don't digest the supremacy of his words. You don't decipher the hidden meaning, the code, the disgust for the others. You were so happy to have finally met someone who can see them, like you could. Something like relief fills your heart, another justification that you weren't crazy. You weren't just seeing things. 

His smile grows. 

"I hope you continue to come back. I have many answers for you."

 

Over the coming weeks, you learn about jujutsu. You learn about cursed energy. You learned about sorcerers. You learn about a world you've never heard of before. A world you've always dreamed of. For the longest time, you always assumed you were the only one, that you were cursed. 

Now, you know you aren't. Not anymore. 

You aren't a jujutsu sorcerer, but you didn't mind. Master Geto (Suguru, he insisted you call him) was patient with you. Understanding. He'd sit with you for hours, even when he didn't have to, answering every question you could have for him. 

Out of guilt, you volunteered to find people who have been cursed to help with his cause. Sometimes, you'd have to spruce up Suguru's power, add a bit more science and structure to what he really does. It never backfired on you, so far. Just as he advertised, Suguru was able to collect every single curse you bestowed on him. Each person you brought in would leave refreshed and satisfied. 

As you came to spend time with the priest, you learned how wrong you were about him. When you first met, you thought he was a liar, a sham. Now, you know he's everything but. He's patient and caring towards everyone who follows him. He's so young, college-age, and yet he had even adopted two twins from a horrible house situation, taking them in as his own flesh and blood. 

On top of all his responsibilities, he still managed to make time for you. You can't imagine it's easy for him. Despite his clear passion, there's a glimmer of exhaustion in his eyes. Why does he spend so much time with you? 

You ask him that one day as the two of you walk through the gardens. He doesn't reply for a while, stopping to stare at a blooming bush of roses. 

"You remind me of someone," he says suddenly. 

You look up at him then, watching his face. A tinge of nostalgia rests across his eyes. You wonder what he's thinking of. School, homework and classes? The endless lectures, the smiles of friends. Maybe he's thinking of even older. Playgrounds and swing sets that squeak. Simpler times where he wasn't something that he is now. 

"I do?" you prod, tilting your head. He reaches out, brushing his hands against the petals, careful to avoid the thorns. 

He hums, "He is the strongest. More powerful than I could ever hope to be. He stood alone at the summit." 

He plucks the rose. The bush gives with a snap. It's a pretty color. A deep red. Almost as dark as blood =.

"It's why I always felt he was lonely," he continues, "No one else could ever understand him. It's lonely to be the only one, yes?" 

It was, you realize. It felt so lonely to see things no one else could see. No one else could relate to it, not even your parents. Your friends. You were alone for nearly decades. And then, you weren't anymore. 

"Your friend," you murmur, "where is he now?" 

Suguru peels off the last of the thorns, leaving the flower glossy and bare. 

"We didn't believe in the same things, towards the end. People change. I did, so did he," he pauses, "Sometimes, I wonder what I could have done differently that day. Perhaps we could have stayed together, if I had just changed his mind." 

You think about his friend. What their relationship was like. What it would be like to lose the only one who could ever understand you. Now that you had it, you could never imagine to lose it. 

"Either way, I don't regret my decision." 

He turns to you with a sigh, reaching out to your hair. You stay still as he tucks the flower behind your ear. The petals tickle your skin. 

"A change had to be made for humanity. Sacrifices must be made. I don't care if the people I cherish think differently." 

The petals tickle your skin. 

"I'm glad you don't regret your decision," you tell him softly, "because I'm really glad I met you, Suguru." 

He gazes down at you, his face the softest you've ever seen him be. His hand lingers by your neck a lot longer than it should. Still awed by him, you choose not to say anything about it. 

"And I, you." 

Everything was going perfectly. Until you ruined it. 

It was your fault. Your error. There's a set time that Suguru allows you to visit. You always arrive a few minutes later, because you only volunteer at the temple. You still have a job. You too have responsibilities. 

But today you arrived early. A fluke. You didn't intend on it, but you didn't think anything of it, Suguru always made time for you. And you didn't mind waiting a few minutes if he couldn't. 

The box of sweets jostled in your hold as you tucked it under your arm. By now, you recognize most of Suguru's followers, as well as the fellow monks. They greet you with too-wide smiles on their faces, the same as always. You've grown to not mind them. You pass them by with very little trouble, already knowing where you were headed. Suguru's client room was just around the corner. And you always enjoyed watching him work. 

In hindsight, you wish his followers would have stopped you, distracted you from your determination, it isn't like they didn't already know. You would have listened. Meeting Suguru was not a necessity. They could have lied for him. You could have kept the tentative friendship for just a bit longer. 

He was already with someone. Eager, and careful not to disturb, you stood just behind a pillar. You don't notice how wrong the scene looks, until you see her. He was with a woman, a bit older. There's a tiny curse on her lower back, latched onto her clothing. It won't matter, Suguru will easily get rid of it. She reminds you of your neighbor in so many ways. They were the same age too. It's why you are confused as to why she's practically kneeling on the ground, her head pressed against the floor, like she's begging. For a woman her age, that position could be a hindrance to her body. 

Still, she doesn't get up. You suddenly get this strange feeling that Suguru forced her to do this. 

It's ridiculous because Suguru is kind. He's kind and patient and-

"How many donations have you made to the temple these past few months?" 

You wouldn't have even thought it was his voice, had it not come from his mouth. He sounded so cold, mocking, cruel. 

The woman seemed to tremble even more. She pressed herself harder against the ground, as if pleading to God himself. Maybe to her, Suguru was God. 

"Please," her frail voice begs, "have mercy-" 

"Manami?" Suguru turns to his trusted assistant. You yourself have spoken few words to Manami, but whenever you caught her looking there was the slightest hint of pity in her eyes. 

Maybe this was why. 

She sighs, just as clinical as her boss, as if the poor woman's begging meant nothing to her, as did he. 

"It's been a 70 percent decrease, compared to the beginning of the year." 

Suguru turned back to the woman. She was going to injure herself-why isn't Suguru telling her to get up, why isn't he doing anything?

"You haven't made much of a contribution to the temple," he sighs like this is more of an inconvenience than anything else, "I have no use for an insignificant cursed spirit. I'm afraid I can't help you." 

She all but burst into tears, her sobs soaking the floor. You feel the numb sense of horror, misery and pain as her cries bleed into your ears. 

"Please-please Master Geto. I-I don't know how much of this I can take." 

Suguru regards her for a moment. 

"I think I might have a way to solve your problem, then." 

Slowly, she lifts her head up. You swallow at her face. Tired eyes, an exhausted look. 

"You-you do, Master?" 

His answer comes in the form of a snap of his fingers. 

It's the biggest curse you've ever seen, larger than a car. She doesn't even put up a fight, screaming and screaming and screaming. When her pitch changes, turning into something more out of horror than pain, you realize that she can see it too. 

It's a quick progression. It barely lasts a minute. The sounds of sucking and eating are so loud that it covers the sounds of the sweets dropping on the floor. They were supposed to be a gift for Suguru. You wanted to thank him again. You wanted to reward him for his kindness and patience. 

Master Geto only looks in mild disgust at the bloodbath. 

"They always die so messily," he sighs, looking at his blood-stained hands as Manami obediently hands him a towel, "Insects, that's all they are." 

For the first time, since you've met him, Suguru gives a genuine smile. 

It looks wrong. Too wide. Too many teeth. His lips curved into something thin and horrific. 

Something evil. 

It takes a week of your disappearance for Suguru to inquire why you haven't visited the temple. 

You leave the messages unopened. When he tries calling, you turn your phone off. For seven days, you stay away from the temple, away from sorcerers, and away from Suguru. 

A part of you still can't believe it. A part of you is convinced that what you saw has to be fake. Because, if it was real. If he had truly killed that woman, if he could control curses to do his bidding, then that meant for weeks-for weeks he was manipulating you. Lying to you. 

There was no if. That's exactly what he was doing. 

You sat on the couch, watching the TV in mild interest. Usually, at this time, you'd be at the temple, learning about the jujutsu world. Earlier, the lessons would fill you with a sense of awe. 

Now, you can't even think about jujutsu without thinking of Suguru next. 

Suguru mentioned he had a friend. A friend that was stronger than him, right? Could-could you find him? Could you tell him what Suguru has been doing-

"It's not very polite to ignore a person." 

You jump, wide eyes catching his figure right at the doorway. You get up to your feet, watching as Suguru casually steps into your home. Your safety. 

"How-how did you...?" You can barely get the words out. 

He understands you anyway, and out of your peripheral vision, you see a cursed spirit waddle up behind him. It coughs something out of it's throat. The remains of your door knob land by your feet. 

In any other situation, you would have been angry at Suguru's disregard for your property. Now, damage to your personal property was the last thing on your mind. 

He wasn't wearing his monk garb (A mere costume, you now realize). He had dressed in a shirt and casual pants. Out of his usual garments, he almost looks normal. Human. The exact type of person he'd spit on. 

"You haven't visited me lately," he starts, always one to get to the point. 

You shift on your feet, "I've been busy....with work. I haven't had time." 

"Really?" He tilts his head, assessing you, a hint of a smirk crosses his face like he knows you're lying. No, he does know you're lying. 

When you don't reply, when you fix your gaze on the floor, willing to God or demon or curse that he would just go away, Suguru sighs. His smile dips into a frown. The curse disappears. You feel like the room is a bit less suffocating. 

"I...apologize for what you saw," he finally says, "You shouldn't have seen it so early. I should have been more careful." 

You blink. For the first time in this conversation, you find your words. 

"Do...do you think that's what this is about?" He gives a blank look. "Suguru...you killed her." 

You expected some type of reaction. Aggressiveness, anger, defenses, excuses. You got none of that. Instead, Suguru merely hummed in acknowledgment of casual admittance. 

"I said it before, haven't I? Sacrifices must be made to change humanity." 

"That's-that's not sacrifice," it was like you were talking to a wall, repeating your point over and over again until you bashed your skull in, "that's-that's slaughter." 

"You said you were glad with my-" 

"You're killing innocent fucking people!-" 

"They're not people." 

You froze at his tone. Throughout your friendship with Suguru, you've seen him express a variety of emotions. Joy, exasperation, irritation. Never have you seen Suguru angry before. 

Never, until now. 

He stands up straighter, his hands twitch by his sides as if they're barely keeping themselves in check. His face has gone blank, like he's lost all motivation to fake his emotions now. There's no point to it, not when you know who he truly is. 

"They aren't even the same species as us," his words are quiet but you can hear the hatred and that scares you the most, "They are at the bottom of the food chain. Mere insects, parasites, that only create problems. They're not like you or me."

His smile comes back. Just as horrible as when you last saw it. 

"They're worthless." 

He's no priest, you steadily realize. He's no saint, no hero. 

"Get out."

You wish you could have made your words sound harsher, but it was barely a whisper. You couldn't even hear yourself, much less hear the venom. 

He sighs, his anger fades, the disappointment stays. 

"I understand." He nods, his voice too condescending to not be noticed. "To be perfectly honest, I expected this. You've spent your entire life with those insects, obsessing over their needs when you didn't have to. It's only natural to have an affinity for them. I did too. It's why I know, you'll feel differently in the future." 

"Fuck you," you hiss, "fuck you and your fucked up cult. You're a monster, you're a-"

He doesn't let you finish. One minute, he's across the room. The next, you feel his hand slap across your mouth as you fall back into the sofa. Your panic is immediate as he fully covers you with his body, pressing you into the cushions. 

Suguru's touched you before. You never noticed. Never cared enough to notice. They were sparse brushes of fingers against your waist, arms, shoulders. Harmless. 

Looking back, you wonder if you should have protested more against them. Maybe he'd have less courage to bury his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it would have just made it worse. 

"You're scared," he tells you, but it sounds like he's talking to himself, "It's okay to be upset." 

You scream, but it comes out as a muffled sob. Suguru's mouth trails down your cheek. He kisses the underside of your jaw. 

"You don't have to be. I promise I'll never hurt you. I cherish you too much."

He's lying. He's a liar. That's all he ever did. Lie to you. Cheat you.

When he pulls back to look at you, he almost smiles. 

"I think I'm starting to understand why he left: I let him go."

His grin gets wider.

"I don't plan on doing that with you." 

[little-de-vil]

GOOD MORNING THIS JUST HIT ME AND I’M GOING TO CRY WRITING IT AND YOU SHOULD TOO! (or: Dance in Snowfall)

(I really should be answering my owns asks, but ehhh I’ll get to that later) Inspired by this post by @moreespressoformydepresso (amazing post!!!) (thanks @maidstew for reblogging that because now I have this), just 66 years later [because to me, the main timeline of Snowfall is at the start of the 74th Tour, but then again, this story is not linear by any means]. Actually, this segment is 34 years later after the 10th, at the Victory Tour party at the president's mansion, on the eve of Harvest, celebrating the first Cutter Victor of the Hunger Games, the 44th Victor.

The song I reference is from this post, and here are the lyrics and writing breakdown.

Ashlar Hawk Vance Sophro hates Capitol music. It's too high, too bright, too unnatural, manufactured. And the dances are even worse. Stiff and stilted and spinning with the only focal point being your partner who moves at the same snail pace as all the rest.

"But at least your partner is pretty to look at," he thinks as he steps on her foot again. Pretty and kind, because she just keeps laughing every time, taking one more step to force him upright, to keep slowly spinning with her, to not let go.

But he does the next time she smiles, for she's a great actress, but if he can't believe it then there's no point to keep trying. He hates himself for being here. He's being celebrated for the worst thing he's ever done, for now being rich and famous and loved by rich and famous people but all he can think of is how badly he wants to be home. He'll be back back tomorrow for the Harvest but that's not same because he'll be on that stage, being cheered at. He won't have the luxury of being with his people, just the hewers, the layers, the miners. It's a very different pressure to look good in front of your whole district versus your mountain folk.

How he wishes he could just run from this crowd of slowly spinning mannequins and dance in front of the stone pillar, singing a song only sung once year. And he can't even sing it now. And he knows his family is singing it now, all of Pike at the foot of the mountain, singing and spinning themselves sick, stones pressed to their foreheads, stones jumping from couple to couple. Oh, how he wishes he were like that last line, free from all of this, happy and singing.

He didn't even notice they'd stopped dancing, he guesses the song had ended as softly as it began, with nothing to bolster a difference from one to the next. She keeps holding his hands, nudges him and asks if he's done dancing, too tired. He's not. He's bored.

He grips her hands and they run off the dance floor into a labyrinth of hedges with pretty, sweet flowers. He's never been impulsive, but then again he's never been this person until the trumpets.

"Dance with me." He says, still gripping her hands, only softer. He's excited, happy to be away from the crowd, from the knowing eyes and the painfully hideous clothes and terrible, powerful people.

"We've been dancing, V. My feet can prove we've been doing something of the sort." She says, smiling.

"No Rose, we've been spinning, slowly spinning and just that. That's not dancing! That's just...sad. Dance with me." He repeats.

He pulls out their stones from his jacket pocket, his slightly edged marble to her perfectly tumbled rose quartz, placing his on her forehead. "Dance with me like we're on a mountain, singing and twirling and moving around friends, not strangers. Dance with me to bring on a better year, if nothing else. Dance with me because you love me." He barely whispers that last part.

Her finger hovers over his scar, not touching, just tracing how it moves so cleanly from his temple to his chin. "I don't know how to dance like that."

"I can teach you." He kisses the stone on her forehead. "I just don't want to be alone. Our dances need others, they need life."

He moves back from her and outstretches his arms, one rounded above his head, the other with his palm facing outward on his chest. She mirrors him and slowly they begin to spin. Not in small, tiny circles but in great leaps from one end to the other. As they keep moving, he puts his stone on her forehead, motioning her to do the same. He can barely be heard singing,

We take the crystals and the stones Our lovers and loved ones, we're not alone

But he is heard.

They keep jumping and spinning and she's still a bit confused as to how she got there in the first place and how and when to put her arms where because he keeps saying that the movements match the lyrics, but he refuses to say them. Because he can't. So she keeps going through the motions, keeps jumping and humming to a song she doesn't know and can't hear, one that's only playing in his head but he's so happy that she doesn't care. And at the end, and she is sure this is the end when they bow towards something that must be their guide, she's dizzy but happy. And he's just happy.

"You do this every year? This tradition?" She asks, handing back her stone that he carefully wraps in a small, beat up burlap bag.

"Yes and no. Yes, we do this every year on the eve of the Harvest. Every town goes to their own mine or quarry and has a real party. But it's not a tradition. It's a ritual."

She furrows her brows, "Same thing, isn't it?"

He laughs, "You city folk have all this education and no culture outside of being rich and pretty."

"I can say lots worse for you, Vance Sophro."

"You're too pretty for that, Celeste Snow."

"So what's the difference then? Enlighten me."

He bows his head, mimicking the Capitol gesture, "Traditions are customs and cultural beliefs passed down from generation to generation. Rituals are actions performed in a certain order, still very cultural but they have to be done in the exact same way. Rituals are about order, traditions are about culture, both maintaining it.”

She nods, "So the dancing is both?"

"Sure, the dancing is part of a pre-Harvest ritual. Maybe I'll take you there one of these years." He says that more like a question.

"If we last that long, my love."

"I have no doubt about it, my Rose."

For the next 30 years, they sneak off to perform this ritual in their own way, to keep it alive in the limited way they can.

It's only when everything has fallen that they perform it how has to be, bringing offerings of a small box filled with a collection of stones and a hammer and chisel with the initials M.S. to the mountain in Pike.

[blueiscoool]

Marble Lion’s Head Sculpture Discovered in Sicily

Archaeologists have uncovered an unusually large marble lion gargoyle belonging to one of Sicily's ancient Greek temples.

Only nine other ancient Greek temples in southern Italy and Sicily are known to have marble gargoyles like this, which would have been imported from the Greek islands in the 5th century BC.

The Ruhr University in Bucham, Germany, which led the study, said that marble like this was "rare and valuable" at the time when this stone lion was built, suggesting that it would have been made for a temple of great significance.

"We cannot yet say whether it was intended for the well-known Temple E in Selinunte or for another, as yet unknown temple," archaeologist Jon Albers, from the Ruhr University, said in a press release.

Stone figures like this are known as "simas." They form the upturned edge of the temple roof which acts as a sort of gutter to collect rainwater, like an ancient precursor to the gargoyles of Gothic architecture. Simas were often decorated, and lion's heads were a common feature, as well as rams, dogs and other animals.

In most cases, simas were made of terracotta or limestone. But this new find is made of 24 inches of marble.

The "Temple E" Albers referenced also contains a frieze made from this valuable stone. Its construction dates back to between 490 and 450 BC and was built in honor of the Greek goddess Hera, according to the University of Michigan Library.

In Greek mythology, Hera is the wife of the king of the gods, Zeus, and is the goddess of women, marriage and childbirth.

But, according to Albers, there may have been an additional, unknown temple to which this stone gargoyle belonged. Lions were traditionally used on temples to act as "guardians" to the holy building.

The reason archaeologists are unclear about the origins of this carved feline is that it appears to have been unfinished and not yet installed at its final destination. There is no characteristic water outlet and the back of the lion's mane is missing.

Exactly why this carving was halted halfway through is unclear, but Albers hopes that this finding will prove a useful piece in the puzzle of the ancient civilizations that lived in the Sicilian harbor thousands of years ago.

"We also want to better understand the manufacturing processes for such architectural parts," he said. "Since the find comes from the harbor zone and the immediate surroundings of the workshop district of Selinunte, it allows further conclusions to be drawn about the city's trade contacts and the technical skills of the ancient residents of Selinunte."

By Pandora Dewan.

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