Thoughts on “The Sandman, Volume 8: World’s End” by Neil Gaiman

In his introduction to this book, Stephen King praises the complexity of Gaiman’s work and ranks him among some noteworthy writers.

This is challenging stuff. I’m not saying it’s so challenging that my old be-bop buddies wouldn’t have dug it, reading our comics up in a sweltering storage space above Chrissie Essigian’s garage on a rainy summer afternoon, but it’s challenging – sophisticated storytelling on a level practiced by Raymond Carver, Joyce Carol Oates, or (and perhaps this is closer to the mark) John Fowles.

I concur. This is very deep reading, with layers and layers of symbolism woven in, but it is also wonderful storytelling, which makes it enjoyable without having to understand the levels of complexity.

This book is structured like Chaucer’s The Canturbury Tales, where an unusual cast of characters find themselves riding out a reality storm at the World’s End inn. They pass the time telling stories, which often have nested stories within the stories.

In one of the tales, the storyteller shares an account of a meeting he had in an alternate reality. The old man who he met and talked with shared some interesting ideas regarding the possibility of places having consciousness.

“Perhaps a city is a living thing. Each city has its own personality, after all. Los Angeles is not Vienna. London is not Moscow. Chicago is not Paris. Each city is a collection of lives and buildings and it has its own personality.”

“So?”

“So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams. That is where I believe we have come. We are in the dreams of the city. That’s why certain places hover on the brink of recognition; why we almost know where we are.”

This is a concept I have often pondered, whether consciousness exists in all matter, not just higher forms of animated species. I look at trees and wonder if they have consciousness. I have thought about whether stones or mountains or water have a form of consciousness that we are not able to perceive. If the answer to any of these possibilities is “maybe,” then maybe cities also have consciousness.

In another of the tales, a story is shared about a person’s apprenticeship in a necropolis. The speaker recounts a lesson regarding the purpose of the ceremonies for the deceased.

She was a wise woman. She told us that what we do is not for the dead. Death is not about the disposal of the client.

“What do the dead care about what happens to them? Eh? They’re dead. All the trappings of death are for the living. It is the final reconciliation. The last farewell.”

As I get older and seem to be attending more funerals and memorials, I recognize the truth in this. I remember my mom’s service. I was still fairly young and it was extremely painful. But it was important. I had to see her one last time, touch her once more, before I could start the long healing process. Ceremony is important. It reminds us of what it is to be human.

The last passage I want to share is the innkeeper’s explanation of what a reality storm is.

“Well, sometimes big things happen, and they echo. These echoes crash across the worlds. They are ripples in the fabrics of things. Often they manifest as storms. Reality is a very fragile thing, after all.”

We all want to believe in the stability of the reality we inhabit. But the fragility of the construct which we call reality is something we should consider. How certain are we that what we perceive as reality is really that? Just because our senses make us think it is that way? Our senses can deceive us. In fact, some of these very questions are being explored in the realm of physics right now.

I will close by saying that I found the end of this book to be somewhat, unsettling. It stirred a lot of internal questions for me, which I cannot divulge without spoiling the ending (something I hate to do). I encourage you to read this book, to grapple with the ideas, and contemplate. It would be a worthwhile exercise.

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Changes to my Other Blog

So for those of you who do not know, I have another blog called The Stub Collection that features concert ticket stubs I collected from shows over the years. Since I now have about 175 concert ticket stubs and memories up there, I have added a new page that lists the concerts in chronological order. Check it out, and feel free to let me know which year seems like the best for live music (note — there are still MANY more stubs coming, so check back).

Here is the new page:

Stubs by Date

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Evolution: #7

I can see now that the world has evolved, too. So much it can’t even see the threat inside it. Everyone pretending that all this is normal. An entire planet gone mad.

When I read this quote in Evolution this morning, it captured how I have been feeling about the world lately. Much has changed and evolved in the last 20 to 30 years, and very rapidly, both for good and bad. But many of us are so caught up in the frenzy that we are unable to take a step back and get some perspective on the radical changes that our world is experiencing. I speak from experience. I was caught up in the frenzy of change, but have lately been making a conscious effort to slow down, practice some mindfulness, and filter out some of the chaotic noise that is accompanying all that is occurring. Doing so has allowed me to begin to see my role in the world a little more clearly, and help me navigate these turbulent waters.

Take a few moments to slow down and reflect today. It is important to do so. Cheers.

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Thoughts on “Henry VI: Part 3” by William Shakespeare

While this is the last of the “Henry VI” plays, the history continues with Richard III, which actually concludes the series. Anyway, overall, I enjoyed this play. It was a pretty easy read and explored some themes on politics and society which I found to be relevant today. I figured for this post, I would share a couple passages that stood out for me.

That’s not my fear; my meed hath got me fame:
I have not stopp’d mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness hath allay’d their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears;
I have not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much oppress’d them with great subsidies.
Nor forward of revenge, though they much err’d:
Then why should they love Edward more than me?
No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace:
And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
The lamb will never cease to follow him.

(Act IV, scene viii)

Here Henry is expressing his disillusion with being a leader. He considers all the good things he has done, but in spite of all that, he still does not have the support of the people. He comes to the conclusion that people too often view kindness as a weakness. This is a sentiment that sadly seems to have survived into the present day. Personally, I prefer the benevolent leader, but I see that a lot of people do not share my sentiment.

Lo, now my glory smear’d in dust and blood!
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had.
Even now forsake me, and of all my lands
Is nothing left me but my body’s length.
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

(Act V, scene ii)

In this scene, Warwick realizes that all his worldly accomplishments amount to nothing in the end. As I read this, I was reminded of Shelley’s great poem, “Ozymandias.” So many of us spend our whole lives, striving and working to create something that will serve as a lasting monument to our lives. But in the end, none of it matters. We all die, and everything that we created will eventually crumble and turn to dust. This seems even more true now in the digital age. How many people can name relatives more than three generations back? Our connection to history is diminishing. I’m sure after I die, that everything I have been writing on this blog will eventually fade away too. It is just the nature of existence. We create things, and our creations eventually return to dust.

Ironically, knowing that our works will crumble does not fill me with despair. It’s oddly comforting to me. It makes me value what I do in the present even more. I write for the now; what happens later is not my concern.

Thanks for stopping by and sharing in my musings. I hope you have a blessed day.

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“The Moods” by William Butler Yeats

Time drops in decay,
Like a candle burnt out,
And the mountains and woods
Have their day, have their day;
What one in the rout
Of the fire-born moods
Has fallen away?

Moods by nature are ephemeral. They tend to last only a short time and are generally caused by some event or thought. But Yeats compares moods to things more lasting, specifically mountains and woods, which are also temporary but endure for a long time. So what are the moods that Yeats is writing about?

Since the word “moods” is plural, it is clear he is experiencing more than one mood at the same time. Also, we are told that these moods are born from fire. An obvious mood would be love or passion, a mood clearly associated with fire. But I would also venture to say that one of the moods is associated with creative inspiration, the spark of the creative flame which, if not nurtured, quickly burns out like the candle. And I suspect there is a third mood, relating to divine inspiration or illumination. Again, this “mood” is fleeting, and usually once you realize that you are having a moment of divine connection, it immediately dissipates.

My final thought on this poem may be a bit of a stretch, but as I read it a few times, I could not help but wonder if there is also an allusion to “modes.” When read aloud with an accent, it is possible. If this is the case, then Yeats may also have been asserting that there are various modes of artistic and spiritual expression, and that each mode is also ephemeral and dependent upon the artist and the audience. At some points poetry and literature may be the dominant mode, other times painting, other times music, or film. As such, moods and modes are always changing.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts. Yeats is always challenging, and it seems the more pared down his poems are, the more you have to work to understand them. Feel free to share your thoughts on this one. Cheers!

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Thoughts on “The Sandman, Volume 7: Brief Lives” by Neil Gaiman

In this installment in the Sandman saga, Neil Gaiman explores the brevity and impermanence of existence, both human and divine. We all accept the ephemeral nature of human existence, but do not want to believe that gods and the universe are also transitory. But if we accept that we are a reflection of the divine, and our lives are temporary, then it stands to reason that divine existence is also temporary, with a beginning and an end, as part of a cycle that is beyond our ability to understand.

Early in the book, Death comes to claim a man who lived an unusually long life. He asks Death whether he had a long life, and Death responds:

“You lived what anybody gets, Bernie. You got a lifetime. No more. No less. You got a lifetime.”

Death’s answer is sobering. We are prone to compare our lifespan with others, but time is really just an illusion. We all have exactly the same amount of time on this plane—one lifetime. Even if you believe in the doctrine of reincarnation, the fact remains that for this incarnation, you only have a lifetime.

Later in the book, Dream has an encounter with Ishtar, the Babylonian goddess of fertility, love, war, and sex. Ishtar is working as an exotic dancer, and after meeting with Dream and Delirium, she decides to perform her sacred dance at the club. But before she begins, she shares with the club manager the secret of the birth and death of gods, knowing that he will not survive the dance to pass the secret on to others.

“I know how gods begin, Roger. We start as dreams. Then we walk out of dreams into the land. We are worshipped and loved, and take power to ourselves. And then one day there’s no one left to worship us. And in the end, each little god and goddess takes its last journey back into dreams… and what comes after, not even we know.”

What Gaiman is asserting here is that gods manifest from the collective unconscious, that the realm which the human psyche can only vaguely glimpse through myth and symbol is the birthplace of all things divine. And as long as these gods are nourished by our spiritual and psychic energy, they thrive; but once humans cease to feed a god or goddess the requisite energy, they wither and pass, returning again to the formless source.

Throughout the book, Dream and Delirium are on a quest to find their brother, Destruction. After they find him, there is a great scene where Destruction takes his brother and sister out under the stars, and uses the stars as a metaphor for the ephemeral existence of all things, divine and temporal.

“I like the stars. It’s the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they’re always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend… I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds won’t last, and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend.”

This speaks volumes about the human condition. We move along the paths of our brief lives, pretending that we are a part of some grand, eternal thing. But it is an illusion, just like time. All lives, all existence, everything that is, is in reality just a fleeting twinkle, a flash that will ultimately fade and be forgotten. Knowing this does not make me feel disillusioned with life, but grateful for every moment that I am blessed with. Knowing that my life is but a flicker makes me want to cherish and make the most out of it. For me, this concept is not crippling, but empowering. I hope it has the same effect on you.

Cheers and blessings.

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“Tao Teh Ching: Chapter 43” by Lao Tzu

The softest of all things
Overrides the hardest of all things.
Only Nothing can enter into no-space.
Hence I know the advantages of Non-Ado.

Few things under heaven are as instructive as the lessons of Silence,
Or as beneficial as the fruits of Non-Ado.

This passage is very short, yet brimming with wisdom. The first two lines are simple enough to understand. Consider how water over a long period of time, steadily flowing, wears down the rock. But the other four lines require a little more work to comprehend.

In order to fully grasp the meaning of the passage, one must have a basic understanding of the concept of Wu wei. Wu wei (translated as Non-Ado) is essentially not striving, an “attitude of genuine non-action, motivated by a lack of desire to participate in human affairs.” In other words, “the sage does not occupy himself with the affairs of the world.” (Source: Wikipedia)

So what Lau Tzu is saying here, is that the path to wisdom is discovered by quieting the mind, and turning away from the distraction of worldly affairs. This silence becomes the softness that eventually overrides the hardness of the mental noise generated by the obsession with all things temporal. This is truly sage advice in an age where we are constantly bombarded with distraction and stimulation-overload from media of various sorts.

This past weekend, I took a long hike in the woods, just myself and my dog, and enjoyed the quiet and solitude. When I emerged back into the world of noise and traffic, I brought with me some of the calmness which I gained on my hike. Quiet time is important. I encourage you all to take some time each day to get quiet and centered. Your life will improve as a result.

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