Creation Myth 6: The Turks

This will be already the 6th Creation Myth I cover! Slowly making my way to the Middle East and Asia I have covered some very interesting stories so far!

This one is me carefully taking a step towards the Middle East and Asia. The story as told by the Turks. Once part of the mighty Ottoman Empire, now still a force to be reckoned with.

Let's get this story started!

This myth from pre-Islamic Turkey was written down in the 19th century but derives from much earlier oral sources. The name of one of the characters, Erlik is mentioned on the Orkhon inscription, the earliest known Turkish writing (8th century AD). 

When the Earth was not the only thing that was, was water. Endless water clear to the four corners of nothing. A full water, grand within its silence -yet a worthless water without use or beauty. A fearful water.

(Sounds reminiscent of the Slav Myth and Celtic Myth I covered earlier with its dark sea(1))

If a snake would drink from this water death would become him.

If a dead scorpion were to drink it he would be filled with drops of light and life.

But there isn't yet a snake, nor scorpion

Within this nothingness that is this water there is only God Kara-han "Merciful". God the Gander, flying lonely above this lonely water.

No sound nor a breath but the eternal flutter of the Gander his flight. The sa-sa, sa-sa of his beating wings.

A killing loneliness and emptiness became a mist, a mist that entered the heart of the Gander. God's wings drove him over songless, loveless, Nothing.

God, although being God, was afraid. Afraid of the loneliness above that water. 

The Godly Gander flew without stop and without rest, without clinging to any place. Flying so, flying without love, without friend, God Kara-han trembled in his godly flight and his trembling churned the water:

“I am God,

I need not tremble.

I am God,

I shall not fear.”

Yet the great water did not calm; it stirred within itself, it moved and parted itself. The waters folded open and from the depths of the deep water a voice, a breath rose and sang: 

“Kara-han,

God Kara-han,

“Oneness becomes you,

God Kara-han.

Oneness is godly,

O godly Gander.”

The voice spreading to the ends of the endless water.

(this is reminiscent of the latest creation myth I covered from the Celts where "a strain of melody moved across the water(2))

God Kara-han trembled, his wings stretched down to the voice coming from the waters:

“Who are you, speaking to God?

If I am God, I ask,

who are you?”

Ak-ana, "white mother" rose up from the waters quaking mouth.

God Kara-han his mouth fell open, and stayed open.

Ak-ana her beauty brightened the water and Time.

What beauty was this that loneliness was comforted and end the endlessness limited?

God Kara-han was helpless, confused.

“Who are you?

I who am God

do not know you.

Are you spirit? Are you person?

Who are you,

bright and shining?”

Ak-ana smiled the most beautiful of all smiles- at this moment there was only this smile, this enchantment between God Kara-han and Ak-ana.

She answered him.

“I am Ak-ana, water’s sister,

I am your creature whom you forgot.

In your boredom and loneliness

you forgot me.”

Had the endless water instead been endless wine, God Kara-han couldn't have been more drunk.

The voice of Ak-ana was the breeze of summer evenings, her eyes were deeper than the water, deeper than time itself.

“Before you flew, I was not.

Then I saw you were lonely.

Even for God, who knows not death,

loneliness is deadly.”

God Kara-han exclaimed

“Speak, bright woman!

In your voice, loneliness is mist

that melts in the sun;

as you talk, I feel my soul refreshed.

Bright woman, speak!”

The response Ak-ana gave to him was sweet yet it was bitter:

“You are God.

Oneness is godly,

but Oneness is lonely,

singleness boring.”

“I am God, yes,

but where is one to call me God,

who knows I am God?

Above endless waters I fly;

below endless nothing I fly.

So what worth is it

that I am God?”

(this seems to be a common thread in the myths. Creation out of loneliness. The Celtic myth is another good example of this(3))

Ak-ana whispered to him:

"Create".

Water shivered and Time trembled crushing loneliness between them, loneliness fled at the word "Create".

Eternity echoing in her voice, becoming a burning fire and singed the Gander his wings:

"Create!

Create!

Create!"

The water wavered inward, folded and Ak-ana sank again, her brightness sinking back in the depths, yet she left behind the sigh heard everywhere:

"Create!

Create!

Create!"

And God Kara-han created Er-Kishi, First Man.

Earth was not, sun was not, moon was not and stars was not.

There was only water, and above this water two ganders flying, one whiter than milk, the other darker than winter.

God Kara-han flying, Er-Kishi flying, flying in the joy of companionship.

But God Kara-han felt a cloud that formed into the heart of Er-Kishi as Er-Kishi flew below him. Filled with sadness God Kara-han wondered: “Was loneliness worse than dark Er-kishi?”.

And Er-Kishi was thinking an impossible thought: 

Why this endless domination?

There should be equality

when two fly together.

There is friendship only between equals.

Love is beautiful only when equal and free.

If God commands above,

the waters below are mine.”

Er-Kishi bent his darkness down to the water, seeming to drown, and God Kara-han felt sad but Er-Kishi spun up to the surface, his speed foaming the water, whirling it up, splashing the water on the whiteness, the spotless and pure whiteness of God Kara-han.

Er-Kishi was proud of his dive and his splash:

“Hey, God, now you see that I am strong.

Without your leave, I chose to dive;

I dove and wet your feathers!”

But to praise oneself is an empty praise.

Er-Kishi thought in his clouded heart:

“More will I do.

Instead of diving, I will rise,

rise above the white gander

and fly as a new God.”

But as Er-Kishi though to soar God took flight from his wings and he plummeted down with frozen lead trapped in his feathers. Endless water swallowed him.

(You could say God Kara-han is a vengeful god)

Plummeting down, Er-Kishi cried out "My God!" but water wrapped his tongue and smothered his cry. “My God, Great God,

I did not know your strength.

Give me safety and I will give you praise.”

God Kara-han spoke: "Come out, rise!". And to the water he commanded "Do not drown".

With soaking wings Er-Kishi rose but could not fly, could not rise from the water its grasp. "Create me a place o God! Let me stand. The water is fearful, its darkness will swallow me whole. Create a place, just enough to stand. I am afraid."

God Kara-han commanded once more: "Let there be a strong and sturdy rock". His words searched the deep and they found Ak-Ana's ear. A strong rock growing in the hands of Ak-Ana divided the water and rose above it.

Er-Ikishi sat on the strong and sturdy rock and gazed at the silence of a suffocating world. There was only water and only God Kara-han. Being neither, Er-Ikishi feared that God his carless wings would sweep him off this tiny place, sweep him into the fearful deep. Er-Ikishi thought that the rock should stretch and cover the endless water, hiding the water's terrible mouth.

At that instant God Kara-han commanded Er-Ikishi to dive, dive to the depths of the water and bring up a handful of dirt. Er-Ikishi dove in fear; where he dove he did not know. When he reached the bottom there was earth. He took a handful and rose up to the surface. 

God Kara-han commanded him: “Throw the earth on the water.”

Er-Ikishi sprinkled his handful of earth on the water where, like seeds in a fertile field, it grew. It spread and grew to the end of sight. 

In spreading joy Er-Ikishi exclaimed: “God, my God, surely you are the God I worship.” 

God said:

“If so, then dive, Er-kishi, dive again

and again bring up a handful of earth.”

Er-Ikishi grew intoxicated with creating new; the cloud in his heart had fled as he dove again to the bottom of that deep water. Er-Ikishi was together with God Kara-han, making the impossible possible. The water shook with Er-Kishi's joy.

But intoxicated with sharing a moment of creation, the cloud knotted again, made a dark fist in his heart, once more forgetting god.

At the bottom of the deep, he thought:

“So if God, God himself, cannot get this earth, if God must send me, if his strength lacks my strength, if my strength completes the strength of God, then I am more than he, then his godliness is less than mine.

Something less than another cannot be God.

He, therefore, cannot be God.”

Thinking these thoughts Er-Ikishi filled his mouth with earth for himself and for God took half of half a handful, planning that God would create half of half a world and he, Er-Ikishi, would create a a whole and secret word for just himself.

God Kara-han looked at the grains of dust in Er-Ikishi's hand and said only "Throw this too". When Er-Ikishi threw it God Kara-han made it spread and grow wider than water and Time. God his earth spread endlessly. Er-Ikishi couldn't find a place to spit out his earth, no place beyond God and God his place.

Er-Ikishi his desire to rule a second world hardened to stone. In compassion God Kara-han spoke:

“Spit and be saved, you who are evil. Had I not listened to Ak-ana’s sigh, "Create!" you would not be, nor your anger, nor your lust to be my equal. Since I made you, I will save you.

Spit!”

Er-Ikishi spit out the dirt from his mouth, the spit making into hills like stumps of diseased teeth, made marshes like pus, made valleys shadowy as death.

("I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" comes to mind)

God Kara-han wrinkled his face and looked on with sadness:

“See, Er-kishi, I made a place for you, a place of beauty and of peace; see what your pride has done to this beautiful earth.”

Er-kishi answered with pride:

“I wanted to make my own world,

a world where I would be God.”

God was silent which Er-kishi took for weakness and spoke

“I should have created you; you should dive at my command.” 

When he spoke, the hills were ashamed, the marshes and valleys felt sorry for having been created:

“O God, keep us from Er-kishi.

We are not of his, he is not of ours.”

Their words stinging Er-kishi

with lonely shame,

and fear spiked his heart.

“Why do you fear?”

God’s words fell white and soft, like feathers from his flight:

“You created because I allowed it so; but you created evil because you are evil.”

Er-kishi’s feathers ruffled and stiffened:

“You! You made me what I am.

If I am evil, you made me evil when you could have made me good.

Answer godly, God.”

God said:

“We flew together but in your pride you wanted to fly above and from this prid, your pride, your evil came. Not from me.

Is that godly enough?”

After these words all was silent. Creation kept silent as if there were no creation. God’s voice passed through silence:

“Under earth is water; under water is earth; under all, darkness.

Into this darkness you shall go, beyond earth, beyond water, beyond light.

Go!”

In the silence after God’s voice there Er-kishi fell. Fell to a land where darkness filled his eyes, mind, and heart.

In that darkness Er-kishi’s darkness darkened.

In that loneliness, his loneliness grew even lonelier yet.

A tree grew on the earth above. Branchless, budless, leafless. A huge ,strange tree but God did not like this tree: 

“A tree should branch, a tree should bud, a tree should leaf.

Let this tree bud and branch, let it be green from root to tip.”

Then the tree grew full and bright. Grew full with the fullness of God’s eyes, grew bright with the brightness of God’s eyes.

Nine times the tree branched:

Three branches stretched east,

Three branches stretched west,

Two branches stretched south,

And one single branch, dry and hopeless, stretched north.

(Nine worlds? Sounds very much like the Yggdrassil from the Norse Myth(3))

The tree made the face of the earth joyful.

It spread its branches and its green leaves over the marshes and broken hills born of Er-kishi’s spit hiding the ugliness of what Er-kishi had made.

The tree’s roots branched in the earth, the tree’s branches rooted in sky. Through the tree peace passed, peace between earth and sky.

In the tree earth and sky came together, and in the tree was water its fullness.

Then God said:

“Let there be birds. A bird for every leaf on every branch.

Let every bird sing a song for every fruit of the tree.

Let joy descend through the tree, and through the tree let loneliness end, pain end with the songs of the birds.”

Then birds came and sang on every leaf of every branch.

But no birds sang on the northern branch. The songless, joyless branch of the north.

The song completed joy, finished the half-made.

As the birds sang, day and night, earth and water, all were full of song.

Yet something was lacking.

God Kara-han was still feeling lonely. God thought and found what it was that was lacking. He called out in joy:

“Let people grow from each of the nine roots.”

Suddenly, the tree its roots swelled and they burst through the earth.

A cry of sudden joy floated harmonious among the hills. 

The song of nine new persons, who sang the joy of the gift of being.

Three men sang from the eastern branches,

Three women sang from the western branches,

One man sang from the southern branch.

And one man, thin, dry, weak and scared, sang from the northern branch.

A beautiful woman sat in the crook between south and north. Her smile looked south and her hands reached north. At last she turned and joined the man of the south.

An owl sat on the northern branch, this single branch of the north. 

Even today sits and whistles there. And even today the north people whistle and moan from primal sorrow.

God Kara-han, having created people, having completed creation, called Er-kishi. 

Called him up to see the fullness of the light.

God Kara-han, his first friend, forgave Er-Kishi and called him back up from darkness.

For God Kara-han loved all that he had created.

Er-kishi sped to God’s call but the sudden greenness effulged his eyes.

This tree, this changing, shining tree confused Er-kishi.

The people, changing, beautiful and full of splendour, confused Er-kishi with the luster of their new being.

What sort of thing was this?

“Hey, Er-kishi how is it? How do you like the world?”

At last Er-kishi’s ears awoke and he said:

“Who are they?

What is this?

What are these things that sing?”

God Kara-han laughed:

“These? These are my creatures, all my beautiful creatures— bird, tree, leaf, wind, cloud, man—all that Is, is my world.”

Then Er-kishi begged a mad request:

“Give me half, O God! Give so that your greatness is shown in your giving. 

After all, I was your first friend, your first companion.”

God Kara-han replied with a knife for a voice:

“No. I cannot give you this world. I cannot give you what isn’t mine.”

“Not yours? Not yours?! Did you not make it all? Did you not, just now, say it was yours?

Lying is not godly!”

“Yes, I created, created all you see and all you do not see. I said Be and they were.

But what I created I created not for myself, but for these people for their happiness and peace.”

Er-kishi’s eyes lusted like a thief:

“Then give me half of the people. Share with your younger brother.”

God Kara-han smiled:

“I have no brother, no equal.

Er-kishi, I give you nothing. None of the people will I give you.

But if you can get any, if you can deceive any, they shall be yours. They shall be your people if they choose.”

The confidence of God froze Er-kishi, bound him in place. God kara-han flew away as the people laughed and strolled beneath the tree.

When day left, all slept. Wolf slept, bird slept and even the northern owl slept. While all were asleep a song hummed from the tree’s core, a song of beauty from the world’s core lullabied the people.

Only God Kara-han and sly Er-kishi remained awake.

While the people slept, God Kara-han created the dog and created the snake to keep the people away from Er-kishi’s evil.

The snake had legs and great beauty, the dog was handsome and noble.

Er-kishi, knowing nothing of the dog and snake, thought it his duty to deceive and steal the people. To fill their hearts with envy that would turn them away from God.

The song, this lullaby from the tree’s heartwood stopped and birds began to sing. Daylight, cool with dreams, spread throughout the tree and stroked the faces of the people.

The people woke in the cool of dawn, saw the dog and the snake,

God’s guardians over them. “Praised be God,” they said and ate. Eating only of the fruit of the east not eating or touching the rest of any fruits.

Er-kishi was filled with evil glee:

“Hey, hey people, people let me share your joy.

Come to me.”

Only the woman from the south looked at Er-kishi with interest. 

Looked and saw his handsomeness, heard his warm words, felt the killing light in his eyes.

The dog and the snake blocked out Er-kishi with their contempt.

Er-kishi said:

“Hey, hey people, why do you eat these dried up fruits when these juicy and red ones hang easy to pick on this side of the tree?”

The people answered:

“God forbade it. We are happy with the fruit we eat.”

“Try them once,” said Er-kishi with soft voice.

“To obey and not know why you obey is foolish.

Maybe God is lying.”

All the people but one answered: “God would not lie."

He who saves us, he who forgives us, he would not lie.

Hey, stranger! You lie.”

But the attractive woman of the south, who had not answered with the others, whispered to him:

“Stranger, are those fruits really so sweet?

Stranger, why would God forbid us them?

Tell me, I want to know.”

Er-kishi hid his evil-winged joy, his joy in causing evil, even in a woman. And he spoke deceit with passion and conviction:

“Hey woman, beautiful woman!

Your beauty is more than of the other women. So the sweetness of these fruits surpasses the sweetness of other fruits.

Your God, your greedy God, forbid you to eat them so that he could have them all to himself.”

(Now where have we heard that before...)

Er-kishi’s words stirred the loose woman’s heart:

“Reach out, reach out your hand, let the beautiful earth see these two beauties meet.

Reach.”

The woman shivered:

“Oh, no. I am afraid. God forbids.”

Again Er-kishi spoke:

“Forget God. He forgot you long ago.”

All but the woman shouted:

“Get out! God does not forget.You do not belong here. Get out!”

The vengeful snake, the angry dog, walked toward Er-kishi. Even as he backed away fearfully he added:

“Beautiful woman, clever woman, I would want to know your name.

Can you tell me?”

“Ece,” she answered, “I am Ece,” which means lovely.

She pointed to the man at her side:

“He is Doganay,” meaning crescent moon.

“I will wait for you, stranger.

What is your name?”

But Er-kishi could not answer for the snake and the dog drove him to the north. Surely the miserable north was the place for this evil one.

But Er-kishi did not think himself miserable. Chaos like the north he knew. What he feared, what made him miserable, was order, truth, beauty and love.

He waited for the darkness of night to match his dark heart.

Over dark waters the owl screamed sharply, dark clouds covered moon and stars.

But every side of the tree flowed with light.

Er-kishi stared unblinking at the streaming light of the tree.

He stared at the snake guarding forbidden fruit; he stared at the dog sleeping at the tree’s foot.

(Here the snake is guarding the fruit. Interesting)

He stared at Ece, beautiful and captivating, speaking to Doganay:

“Doganay, bring me some of the forbidden fruit. The stranger said they were so sweet. All the people sleep now, so who will know if we eat?”

Doganay answered: “God will. He sees us.”

But the woman was hungry. An endless hunger shook her bones.

“Listen, Doganay, do you not love me? You said you loved me next to God. Did you lie?”

He sighed:

“It is not a lie. But do not ask this of me.”

“Why?” asked Ece in her womanly way. “Why do you fear that one little fruit? Are not my eyes worth one little fruit?”

Doganay was helpless and with voice trembling spoke:

“You do not know, Ece, what you are worth. This fruit is not worth even your little finger. But do not ask this of me!

Believe me, the sweetness of your walk, of each step toward me, the joy of your closeness, these are worth the world.

You have more brightness than the sky but do not use your brightness to make me sin. Do not make me sin because of that liar who knows no God. Such a sin would only bring us shame. Do not ask that fruit of me. Ece, do not ask it.”

Ece wept, the forbidden fruit burning within her. Tonight – she must taste that sweet fruit tonight!

Then came Er-kishi, soundlessly, near her.

In great joy, she jumped:

“O! Stranger, Stranger.”

Er-kishi’s voice, like the forbidden fruit, tickled and burned:

“Do you really want to eat of these fruits?”

All Ece’s thirst, all her hunger, all her dry desire, spoke:

“O! So much! I want them so much, you cannot know how much.”

“Then look there, reach out. They await you sweet and delicious.

Come, reach out.”

“But the snake is there, he guards them so I cannot reach.”

“Do not fear. I will enter the snake.”

And Er-kishi went up. Up like smoke, into the tree, into the snake.

(Now that's interesting! So the snake is innocent in all of this because he got possessed by Er-kishi. That takes the biblical perspective in an entirely different direction)

Ece looked around. God seemed elsewhere. Er-kishi, in the tree, in the snake, bent the branch down to Ece. The forbidden fruits shook with light that sang in the darkness. 

“Come, come; reach, reach.”

Did God not see? Did God not care? God Kara-han, who could see an ant’s eyelashes, thin and black, at midnight, chose not to see Er-kishi bending the shining fruit to Ece— he had to show his people good and evil, left them to choose. He would not treat them like children ,leading each one by the hand.

(So they had free will from the beginning and God Kara-han did nothing because of it. So whatever happened was brought upon themselves by themselves)

Doganay saw God would not come, would not interfere; he saw Ece plucking the fruit:

“Leave it! Do not destroy this beauty for a moment’s joy.

Ece! Do not.”

(Heed these words because they are true for a multitude of things. Don't throw something beautiful away just for one moment of joy, satisfaction, relief. I know it's a lesson I learned the hard way)

But she had eaten it.

Ece picked the large fruit and bit it quickly. Its juice, bitter yet sweet, sweet yet unfulfilling, burned through her mouth and her throat, burned a fire in her bones, a fire of joy in daring to disobey God

Doganay’s eyes widened in fear, fear of lightning and chaos ensnaring the world. Ece devoured the fruit as Er-kishi devoured her with his eyes. With pride he consumed his first creature, a woman.

Ece, trembling with desire, trembling with the fruit’s fire, put half the flame in Doganay’s mouth.

The first drop sparked and from his teeth to his tongue set his whole body afire, his whole being burned with one drop of that sweet juice.

Half the fruit now remained— Doganay gobbled at one edge,

Ece gobbled at the other— half the last drop burnt Doganay’s tongue, the other half of the last drop burnt Ece’s.

At this moment the sleepers woke. A secret fear woke in the night, a thousand confusions wandered in the dark.

Suddenly, they saw their nakedness, their naked souls, and then they knew shame, and the shame threw them apart.

(Naked souls? Would that mean the human body was designed to cover up a naked soul? That's how I interpret it)

God Kara-han came down, shaking heaven and earth with his anger. In wrath and judgement God came down.

“My people, where are you? Are you hiding from me? What have you done?”

As the first defendant before the first court on earth Doganay stood and confessed:

“Without knowledge –or perhaps with knowledge –I ate.”

Ece his wife spoke boldly but with fear:

“You created these fruits. Why did you forbid us to eat?

They taste like heaven’s food. Either you should have not created them so sweet, or me so weak.”

“Sin is attractive,” God answered.

(yes it is)

“And tastes sweet. But Man becomes holy in resisting it. I ordered this for your good. Are you as happy now as you are?”

In her nakedness and shame Ece said in regret:

“The taste of sin was sweet, but now I am filled with bitter emptiness. I would not have desired had not the Stranger told me to eat.”

(Post sin clarity is a bitch... Been there...)

The snake, who was ordered to guard the people, said: “That one must have entered me when I was asleep. I trusted the dog to keep watch.”

The dog said: “I was asleep too.”

Er-kishi, who was watching, laughed shamelessly at the chaos and the disorder he had created.

God Kara-han turned his eyes slowly on Er-kishi and thought for a long while. The smile on Er-kishi’s lips faded.

In mock respect he bowed to God and said:

“I only did what you told me to do.”

(Hate to say it but he's not wrong...)

The guilty had spoken, and God pronounced the first judgement on earth. The universe was silent awaiting the judgement of God.

“Doganay, I expel you and all the people from the light of the tree.

I will create no more people.

From now on, Ece, new people will come from you.

You will give birth in pain. All of you will taste death. Death will limit you.

When you die, you will return to me.

“From this day forth my name will be Ulgen, Great One.”

God Ulgen turned to Er-kishi: “And his name will be Erlik, lord of death and evil. He will be left to trouble you. Do not be deceived by him again.”

Erlik wanted the last word:

“I will have more people than you, you will see.

I will not ask you to give them to me anymore.

They will come to me, I will just wait.”

Then Erlik descended into darkness.

In man’s heart, many desires had been created.

God Ulgen wanted men to live in harmony, but they forgot God and gave way to dark Erlik whom God Ulgen threw into darkness seven rings under the earth.

God Ulgen went up to his sky-floor, leaving mankind alone.

God’s leaving whitened the sky and blackened the earth.

One man under the east branches was named Ay-atam and his wife was Ay-va.

The other people went west, took their children and went west. But Ay-atam and Ay-va went east, took their two daughters to the east.

Now to the east, to the west, now to all the four corners of earth people walked bent with sorrow. Walked over the once-joyous earth, spreading their sorrow with each step.

After months of wandering, Ay-atam and his family came up to a mountain. The girls shouted the mountain’s name:

“Altay! Altay!”

Mountain echoes returned:

“Altay!”

A deep, humming voice echoed:

“Altay!”

The girls were delighted in thinking the mountain answered them.

Then after the voice, from a cave in the mountain came a man, came a friend, not a stranger. 

It was Doganay. Ece, too, was in the cave. Old and wrinkled from her sin, the first sin.

Her sons and daughters filled the cave.

Ay-atam said: “Doganay, after we were expelled from our home, when we wandered, where did you go?”

Ece, hearing this, hid in a corner.

Doganay said: “She is heavy with shame, thinking that through her all men are wronged. But if she had not eaten the fruit, someone – even I - someone would have. Though he forbade us, I believe God really meant that we should eat the fruit.”

Doganay and Ece made a place forAy-Atam and his family.

(1. https://greyhornpagans.blogspot.com/2021/08/creation-myth-part-3-slavs.html)

(2-3. https://greyhornpagans.blogspot.com/2021/08/creation-myth-part-5-celts.html)

(4. https://greyhornpagans.blogspot.com/2021/08/norse-creation-myth.html)

And that is it! It is a very long but beautiful story morphing from a pagan story to a more biblical one in my eyes. I do hope you enjoyed it! It has costs me 4 days to complete it so I am glad to finally be done with it! Don't forget to share it far and wide with anyone who might be interested! Where the next creation myth will come from I do not know yet but will of course let all of you know as soon as I do!