This show was not done with the involvement of either Steph Young or David Paulides. This is not meant to cast blame or besmirch either party, only to clear the air, using the facts and points of view of those involved. Seriah was involved in trying to smooth things over at various points, and having read all of both authors' books, had a very significant angle to view this all from.
If you are expecting this to be controversial or to attack either author, you will be disappointed.
For episode 11 we continue our talk about iron and the supernatural. This episode we focus on the blacksmith and the blacksmith’s role in folklore, magic, and as a liminal figure. We talk with author, powwow practitioner, and blacksmith, Cody Dickerson. We hear another story of a changeling and a boy taught to work iron by the faeries. Finally, we hear some traditional songs about the blacksmith.
The lady stands at her bower door Straight as a willow wand And by her came the coal blacksmith With a hammer in his hand Crying bide, lady bide, There’s nowhere you can hide. This rusty smith will be your love For all your maiden pride.
Well may you dress my lady fair All in your robes of red. Before the morn at this same time I’ll gain your maidenhead.
Away, away you coal blacksmith Would you do me wrong To think to gain my maidenhead That I have kept so long.
I’d rather I were dead and gone And buried in my grave Than a rusty stock of coal blacksmith My maidenhead should have.
The lady she held up her hand And swore upon her soul That she’d not be that blacksmith’s love For a whole chest full of gold.
The blacksmith he held up up his hand And swore upon the Mass: I’ll have you in my bed lady In a half an hour or less.
The lady she became a dove And flew up in the air And he became a cock pigeon And they flew pair and pair. She was woe, he held her so And still he bade her bide. This lusty smith her lover was For all her maiden pride.
The lady she turned into a hare And ran across the plain And he turned into a greyhound dog And chased her down again.
And she became a little mare As dark as the night was black And he became a gilt saddle And rode upon her back.
She became a silken plaid And stretched upon the bed And he became a green covering And gained her maidenhead.
And she became a corpse, A corpse all in the ground, And he became the cold grey clay And smothered her all around.
I am joined by Aaron David of Charm the Water, Adam Sayne of Conspiranormal, and Red Pill Junkie. We discuss an article on how the brain and memory do not perform like a computer and how that analogy is holding back progress. This conversation branches off into all kinds of things from that starting point, occassionally heading back around to the article. Well worth a read. Definitely inspired us.