Tag Archives: storm

“American Gods: The Moment of the Storm” by Neil Gaiman: Issue #07

People believe. It’s what people do. They conjure things, and then do not trust the conjurations. They populate the darkness with ghosts, with gods, with electrons. People imagine and people believe. And it is that belief that makes things happen.

There is a lot of truth here. Our thoughts play a tremendous part in the manifestation of our realities. When we step back and consider the fear, mistrust, anger, and cynicism of the past couple decades, should it be all that surprising that we find ourselves in the current socio-political climate?

But I for one am seeing things that give me hope and inspiration, and I am making a conscious effort to believe in the better possibilities. Because let’s face it—all possibilities exist. But the possibilities which receive the most energy are the ones most likely to actualize.

Thanks for believing.

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“American Gods: The Moment of the Storm” by Neil Gaiman: Issue #5

Look, this is not a good country for gods. My people figured that out early on. There are creator spirits who made the earth and so we say thank you. But we never built churches. The land was our church. It gave us salmon and corn and buffalo, and wild rice. You follow that river for a way, you’ll get to the lakes where the wild rice grows. You go far enough south, there are orange trees, lemon trees, and those squishy green things… avocados. What I’m saying is that America is like that. It’s not good growing country for gods. They’re like avocados trying to grow in wild rice country.

It’s a strange paradox that a country with a strong fundamentalist movement would not be fertile ground for gods. To me it seems more like we choose to collectively idolize the wrong things, or choose our gods for the wrong reasons. We love our distractions, we love our teams, we want to be a part of a community, we want to be freed from our guilt and shame, and so on. America is a country of “God, Guns, and Guts.” Personally, I have a difficult time reconciling those three things in my life.

There is a palpable feeling that we are on the cusp of a major global shift, that this is the “moment of the storm.” It will be curious to see how things play out in the next few years.

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My 1000th Blog Post! – “King Lear” by William Shakespeare: An Exploration on Aging

Before I delve into my thoughts on Lear, I want to say thank you to all of you who have followed me, shared your comments, and encouraged me to continue with the blog. My goal is to keep writing for as long as there is interest.

Now, on to King Lear.

So I have read this play numerous times, and for me, it is right up there with Hamlet. There is so much depth in this text, and so much that could be explored. But considering that I am past middle age, the issues on aging were what struck me deepest during this reading.

In this play, both Lear and Gloucester suffer because they are old. There are two main forms of age-related suffering: suffering caused by bad decisions resulting from mental decline associated with old age, and suffering as a result of abuse from younger people who view the elderly as hindrances to their personal advancement.

Very early in the play, Lear’s daughters Regan and Goneril recognize that their father is exhibiting signs of senility.

Goneril:

You see how full of changes his age is; the
observation we have made of it hath not been
little: he always loved our sister most; and
with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off
appears too grossly.

Regan:

‘Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever
but slenderly known himself.

Goneril:

The best and soundest of his time hath been but
rash; then must we look to receive from his age,
not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed
condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness
that infirm and choleric years bring with them.

(Act I. scene i)

There is the archetype of the wise old man, but as Lear’s fool rightly points out, not all people who are advanced in years possess wisdom. Wisdom is gained during your younger years; but if you fail to seek wisdom in your youth, then you become a foolish old man.

Fool:

If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I’ld have thee beaten
for being old before thy time.

King Lear:

How’s that?

Fool:

Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst
been wise.

(Act I, scene v)

Regan starts to show her resentment against having to care for her father. As is often the case, when a parent ages and begins to require assistance, all the baggage, resentment, and anger from the past begin to surface (note that Regan is an anagram for anger).

O, sir, you are old.
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be ruled and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wrong’d her, sir.

(Act II, scene iv)

One of the most powerful and symbolic scenes in the play is when Lear is cast out must face the storm.

Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children,
You owe me no subscription: then let fall
Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man:
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join’d
Your high engender’d battles ‘gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! ’tis foul!

(Act III, scene ii)

The storm symbolizes Lear’s own inner turmoil, as well as the constant pounding of life’s challenges that eventually wear a person down. As he relives his mistakes, regret breeds a storm of chaos in his mind, which can no longer make sense of what is happening around him. He feels his last frail hold on sanity beginning to slip.

The tendency of the young to usurp power from the elderly is most clearly expressed through the character of Edmund, Gloucester’s bastard son.

This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses; no less than all:
The younger rises when the old doth fall.

(Act III, scene iii)

This is still a part of our society. We all like to think we hold reverence for the elderly, but the fact is that neglect and abuse of the old is rampant. In addition, there is the subtle and insidious elder abuse which manifests as ageism in the workplace. Older workers are routinely passed over in favor of younger candidates, which only adds to the feelings of uselessness and despair that sadly accompany aging all too often.

When Lear is finally reunited with his Cordelia, his estranged daughter who he cast out, he realizes that he is nothing more than a foolish old man, and he humbles himself to ask forgiveness, because there is nothing worse than spending your last days bearing the weight of regret.

You must bear with me:
Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

(Act IV, scene vii)

Finally, after his wits are restored, Lear gains the true wisdom that comes with age. He begins to understand what is truly important in life: family, relationships, and simple pleasures.

No, no, no, no! Come, let’s away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: so we’ll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out;
And take upon’s the mystery of things,
As if we were God’s spies: and we’ll wear out,
In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.

(Act V, scene iii)

The play concludes with some advice which all of us should heed.

The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

(Act V, scene iii)

We should never postpone speaking that which is in our hearts, especially to those who are dear to us. Because one day soon, before we expect it, we will be old, and the time to express our love for others will have passed. Do not allow fear or appearances to prevent you from telling someone how you feel. Missed opportunities are rarely retrieved.

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Conflicting Archetypes in “American Gods” by Neil Gaiman: Issue 02

In this installment, Shadow accepts the job as bodyguard for Mr. Wednesday and then has an unpleasant encounter with Technical Boy.

Wednesday and Technical Boy embody two archetypes that are in conflict with each other. Wednesday is a manifestation of the Trickster as embodied in the American con man or highwayman, the person who lives on the road, scheming and chiseling people in order to get by. Technical Boy is a modern archetype, that of technology as a god. There is a tension between the two, and the arrogant Technical Boy views Wednesday as an archaic thing whose time has passed.

You tell Wednesday this, man. You tell him he’s history. Tell him we are the future and we don’t give a fuck about him. You fucking tell him that, man. He has been consigned to the dumpster of history, while people like me ride our limos down the super-highway of tomorrow. Tell him that language is a virus and that religion is an operating system and that prayers are just so much fucking spam.

What is the most fascinating to me about this is the fact that we may be living in a time when new archetypes are forming. The digital age has altered human existence in such a way that it has thrust open the doorway to a place where it is possible for new archetypes to arise. It really feels like we are in the midst of a paradigm shift of such proportions that we may need new archetypes to help us navigate the new landscape.

As I look around me, I see people reacting to this paradigm shift in different ways. Some people are energized and inspired, while others are fearful and seek to return to the relative safety of the bygone era. It’s no wonder that there is so much polarization in the socio-political climate right now. The storm is gathering, so to speak.

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“American Gods” by Neil Gaiman: Issue 01

In my humble opinion, Gaiman is a literary rock star. There is nothing of his that I have read which has not completely blown my mind, particularly his novel American Gods, a book I was considering reading a second time. But then when I learned Gaiman was writing a graphic series based upon his book, I figured I would read that instead… for now anyway.

This first installment contains the beginning threads of two strands of the tale. First, we are introduced to Shadow Moon, who is released from prison right after his wife is killed in an automobile accident. He is approached by the mysterious Mr. Wednesday who offers him a job. The second thread introduces us to a goddess incarnate as a prostitute. She convinces her trick to worship her during sex, which increase her power (divine beings require worship for strength). The scene concludes with a reverse birth, where the man is returned to the womb of the goddess in a symbolic representation of the spiritual cycle of birth-life-death-rebirth.

One of the symbols that figures prominently in this first issue is the storm.

Inmate: We got to talk.

Shadow: mmm?

Inmate: Storm’s on the way.

Shadow: Feels like it. Maybe it’ll snow soon.

Inmate: Not that kind of storm. Bigger storms than that coming. I tell you, boy, you’re better off in here than out on the street when the big storm comes.

Shadow: Done my time. Friday I’m gone. Eagle point, Indiana.

Inmate: Like I said, big storm coming. It’s like… what do they call those things continents ride around on?

Shadow: Tectonic plates?

Inmate: That’s it. Tectonic plates. It’s like, when they go riding, when North America goes skidding into South America, you don’t want to be in the middle. You dig me?

Shadow: Not even a little.

Inmate: Hell, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The coming of a storm is something unseen, yet very tangible. Even before you see the dense clouds gathering on the horizon, there is an electricity in the air, a heaviness, a sense of foreboding. Forces build to the point where there is a violent release of pent-up energy. I have felt this in society. It certainly feels like there is a storm on our global horizon right now, too. If we are lucky, the clouds will dissipate and not coalesce into a storm, but whether this happens or not is truly beyond our control.

As far as the artwork in this graphic series goes, it’s OK. It is not nearly as great as the artwork in some of Gaiman’s other graphic works, particularly the Sandman saga, but it’s not the worst artwork either. But it is Neil’s craftsmanship of the written word that really drives this tale; the art just seems to add another layer of symbolism to it. I’m really excited to see how the story plays out on the pages. Second installment should be out soon. Expect my thoughts shortly afterward.

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Doctor Strange: Issue 01

DoctorStrange_01

Last week when I went to the comic store, I chanced upon the first issue of the new Doctor Strange arc. I was not even aware that there was a new arc! I suppose I’m a little out of the loop. That tends to happen when your mind is preoccupied with other things, like work, family, music, and so forth. Anyway, I picked up a copy of this along with my regular cache of comics, and I am glad that I did. This first issue really bodes well.

I think the writing and artwork are both outstanding. I was immediately sucked into the story, which is unusual. Often, it takes a little while for me to get hooked in to an arc. Not so with this one.

I don’t want to give away too much of the story. Basically, Doctor Strange is becoming aware of an unusual spike in weird phenomena, which he senses is the result of a “coming storm.”

I’ll leave you with a quote from the issue that I really liked. Hopefully, you will pick up a copy and find it as engaging as I did.

If you ask me, it’d be an awfully boring life if nothing was ever weird. It’s the weird ones who change the world.

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“The Sick Rose” by William Blake

SickRose

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

These eight short lines are some of the most disturbing that I have found in literature. Essentially, we have the rape of a virgin child while she is sleeping. The image of the howling storm implies that it was a violent rape and that the blood usually accompanied with the loss of virginity is not something joyful, but part of an attack that will destroy any chance that the child has at happiness.

There is also the impression that the perpetrator has infected the young girl with a venereal disease. Since the rose is a vaginal symbol, and the fact that the rose is now sick implies an infection. I do not feel that Blake is claiming she is impregnated, since I don’t think he would use a metaphor that strongly suggests a vaginal disease.

I would add one more interpretation here, which I feel adds to the tragedy and the horror of this poem. I believe that the rapist is the girl’s own father. The last two lines of the poem suggest that the “love” is a dark and secret love which will ultimately destroy the girl’s life. How often do we hear stories of sexually abusive fathers telling their abused children that they really love them and that this is their little secret? This dark secret will ultimately poison and sicken the child’s mind, just as it has physically sickened her body.

I remember being disturbed reading this poem for the first time in college, but as a parent, the horror of it is much more visceral. Blake manages to create a very powerful poem using just a few words. Without a doubt, this is a literary masterpiece.

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