Okay, back on topic
[EX]At the beginning of time, two sisters were traveling across the landscape giving names to the features of a previously unnamed world. One carried
a child; the other was pregnant. They had both committed incest in their own country, the country of the Wawilak. One carried the child of her
brother; the other carried the child of her father in her womb. Carrying spears and stones of the men of their country, they carried food and hunted
game, prophesying that everything they collected would soon become set apart (sacred/taboo).
At last, having traversed many countries, they arrived at a waterhole in which, unknown to them, dwelt the great Rainbow snake. This
snake was a kinsperson to the sisters. As the pregnant sister felt she was about to give birth, the other sister began to help her. They camped by the
waterhole and lit a fire on which to cook their hunted game.
As the sister, helped by her companion, began to give birth, afterbirth blood began flowing into the sacred pool, polluting it and
arousing the Rainbow snake. A rain cloud, lightning flashes and a rainbow appeared in the sky: the snake was emerging in anger from its hole,
unleashing the season of rain, floods and storms. The night was dark except for the thin curve of the moon. As the woman’s genital blood flowed,
the cooking fire became suddenly ineffective. The plants and game, which the women had collected for food refused to cook, jumped up alive from the
fire on which they had been placed and dove like men into the nearby blood-streaked waterhole. The well waters began to rise.
“Go away! Go away!,” the sisters cried, as they became aware of the immense snake in the sky. They did not know, that the snake was
their kinsperson. Seized with fear, they danced to make the snake go away. But the dancing brought on the second sister’s menstrual flow,
attracting the snake even more. The waterhole began overflowing, flooding the dry land all around them.[/EX]
This is a very old Aboriginal story
[EX]Now, filled with foreboding and despair, the sisters fled into a menstrual hut that they had built. Inside the hut, they were both shedding
blood—they sang “Yurlunggur and menstrual blood”—the most taboo and potent of the songs known to them: the angry snake thrust its nose into
the hut and swallowed the women and their children alive.
Black clouds now blotted out the sky, and rain crashed down in a fierce storm. As the waters enveloped the world, the women continued to
bleed. Inside the snake, the women began to undergo a transformation, moving into another realm, beyond death. The two sisters became the snake. In
a voice of thunder, the great snake roared. It was the spirits of the two sisters who were speaking out of the snake’s mouth. “We are here
now,” the sisters said. “The snake has eaten us. We are the Marraian, the sacred knowledge of Wittee (the snake). Our spirits talk through
Wittee for another world.” The snake became erect, like a tree, its head stretching high into the clouds, and the sisters in this way continued to
give names to the world. [/EX]
And a Poem from the same source:
Myth tells of the power of my blood
Rainbow snake, so tempted, so drawn…
You say the snake was angry, but I question you, [4]
Was it angry, or did it like my sisters’ blood?
Mimetic rivalry has made you spite me and my kind because we can bleed,
again
again
again
and not die. [5] When you bleed, it is a sign of your mortality. When we bleed it is a sign of our ability to create life. We create and continue
life, you are born and you die.
You have a single life.
We have many lives through our children. [6]
You have turned the myth into your own rite and ritual. You say that our blood is impure, but look at you-
cutting yourself, your arms, your penis—to make yourself bleed.
You flail your body to spread your blood on your thighs and the body of your brothers. [7] You think this is like my blood.
You have no idea.
My blood is not just any blood; it is not the blood of the heart.
It is the blood of creation.
It is thick and rich.
You say, when you make yourself bleed that you are menstruating with your brothers. You want the power of synchronicity. You create it out of
falsity. You cut yourself.
Inherent is the unity my sisters and I share—
We bleed together, with each other, together with the moon: like the tides of the ocean, we fall into the cycle of the earth.
This is power.
Like the Rainbow snake, vital is our blood.
Like the Rainbow snake, we are paradoxical, we are both of this life and of the next generations,
like the Rainbow snake is of both the heavens and the depths. [8]
The myth tells the truth, of fertility. Blood pours from the Wawilak sister’s vaginas into the life-giving waterhole. Rains come and the land is
made fertile,
fertile land depends on water;
fertile life depends on my blood.
My blood possesses a fertility that your blood will never have, no matter how many times you cut yourself and spread your blood over your skin and
that of your brothers.
Mimetic rivalry has caused you to shun me in my times of blood. You are jealous. I have a power that you can never have and so you tell me that I am
dirty, impure, profane. When really, you know that I am sacred, that above all, my blood is sacred. My blood created you, and your father and your
brothers and your grandfather and your chief.
You cut your penis to create solidarity between you and your brothers. Simultaneously, you separate yourselves from the defilement of women’s
blood; you see our blood as dangerous. [9] You are admitting the power and sacrality of our reproductive power by marking our blood dangerous. You
make our blood a sacred object of community worship by expressing its contagious nature. [10]
The power of my blood can take away the powers of those for whom blood means death. In my time of blood, I threaten your virility, your hunting
precision. [11] I may threaten you, but my sisters are not affected. I am a threat to you, because I have a power that you want and can never
have.
When I bleed, it means I can create life. When you bleed, you die. No life can be built without blood. [12]
[EX]God had further intercourse with is earth-wife and this time, without mishaps of any kind, the excision of the former offending member having
removed the cause of the former disorder. Water, the divine seed, thus entered the womb of the earth and a normal reproductive cycle resulted in the
desired birth of twins. The beings that were born were half human and half serpent. Their red eyes were wide open like human eyes, and their tongues
were forked like the tongues of reptiles: their arms flexible and without joints. Their bodies were green and sleek all over, shining like the
surface of water, and covered with short green hairs, a presage of vegetation and germination.
These two spirits, called Nummo, were thus two homogenous products of God, of divine essence like himself, conceived without untoward
incidents. The pair was born perfect and complete. They were made of God’s seed, which is at once the ground, the form, the substance of the life
force or the world, from which derives the motion and the persistence of created being. This force is water, and the pair is present in all water:
seas, torrents, storms, and the spoonfuls we drink. Nummo, the twins, represents the ideal unit, as one. The twins’ destiny took them to heaven,
to receive the instruction of their Father.
The Nummo, looking down from Heaven, saw their mother, the earth, naked and speechless, as a consequence of the original incident in her
relations with the God Amma. It was necessary to put an end to this state of disorder. The Nummo thus came down to earth bringing with them fibers
of plants pulled from the heavenly regions. These fibers fell in coils, symbolizing the nature of the earth in spirals, seasons, the nature of water
and infinity and covered their mother’s genitalia[/EX]
Much more from source:
www.coloradocollege.edu... 
I know just a coincidence 
