[It's more than fine. Bowing too much or kneeling has never been something she would demand of mankind. They began it on their own, and though it alarmed her, she grew to understand it was their way of being appreciative. The fact of the matter is that she had never intended for this eventual development. There was once when she was the only god, before she had to plummet to earth, dragging a demon with her, and back then, man suddenly began holding her in higher esteem than she would've expected.
It's not that gods are better, they're only different. They're supposed to be connected, everything, everyone, a family. And, while she's of the sun, makes it climb the sky, then set, encourages plants and food out of the ground, will warm and dry clothes on a line. Though once she had the capacity to imagine a reality and existence and then paint it into being, she could've never managed any of this without the prospect of faith. First from plants, then from animals, next humankind. Whose belief falters the most, who she has to try most to convince and protect, because they're so prone to waywardness.
But as much as they may have depended on her, she depends on them as well. It's mutually beneficial. She's no more or less, and she believes this, even if she has a showman's tendency to gloat over her abilities.
It doesn't bother her a bit that he doesn't give more, and she has no reluctance in bumping delightfully against his offered hand, as if trying to get it onto her head herself. In fact, she feels in wonder of him, her appreciation hasn't died down a smidgen, and this is easily known by her slipping down to him. First head and shoulders falling near his feet, a blow through her snout, the rest of her dropping without ceremony, and she rolls onto her back in humility. She's grateful. Some can see her, the truth of her, but it's as if he's seen even beyond this.
And it hadn't dawned on her until her lowering to him that it had abolished some of her own private loneliness. Before she had Issun, who knew who she was, who would demand people to respect her while she admonished him in a way only he could hear. She had Waka, who stayed with her and the Celestials back home. She wonders if people take for granted when someone recognizes the center of them, the who that's housed in the quiet beyond bone and blood.
What would I need a name for? she'd asked the Celestials once. They laughed and said, Of course you need a name, Mother.
Now, she understands. She's loved it since they gave it to her, but now, she truly, without a single doubt, understands.]
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It's not that gods are better, they're only different. They're supposed to be connected, everything, everyone, a family. And, while she's of the sun, makes it climb the sky, then set, encourages plants and food out of the ground, will warm and dry clothes on a line. Though once she had the capacity to imagine a reality and existence and then paint it into being, she could've never managed any of this without the prospect of faith. First from plants, then from animals, next humankind. Whose belief falters the most, who she has to try most to convince and protect, because they're so prone to waywardness.
But as much as they may have depended on her, she depends on them as well. It's mutually beneficial. She's no more or less, and she believes this, even if she has a showman's tendency to gloat over her abilities.
It doesn't bother her a bit that he doesn't give more, and she has no reluctance in bumping delightfully against his offered hand, as if trying to get it onto her head herself. In fact, she feels in wonder of him, her appreciation hasn't died down a smidgen, and this is easily known by her slipping down to him. First head and shoulders falling near his feet, a blow through her snout, the rest of her dropping without ceremony, and she rolls onto her back in humility. She's grateful. Some can see her, the truth of her, but it's as if he's seen even beyond this.
And it hadn't dawned on her until her lowering to him that it had abolished some of her own private loneliness. Before she had Issun, who knew who she was, who would demand people to respect her while she admonished him in a way only he could hear. She had Waka, who stayed with her and the Celestials back home. She wonders if people take for granted when someone recognizes the center of them, the who that's housed in the quiet beyond bone and blood.
What would I need a name for? she'd asked the Celestials once. They laughed and said, Of course you need a name, Mother.
Now, she understands. She's loved it since they gave it to her, but now, she truly, without a single doubt, understands.]