"My skin is not my own," said the God Emperor.
I know the feeling,
But not exactly.
He added skin to his skin,
Sandtrout symbiosis.
I must subtract where he added.
My skin smothers, enslaves.
His Worm was without,
My Wyrm was within.
Dragon-Who-Is-Chained, meet the Worm-Who-Is-God.
A leader, enslaved.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
I Had A Dream Today
It is not an unusual occurrence for me to dream. In fact, it happens rather frequently. Here is one that I woke from, one from barely ten minutes ago.
---
We had lived in the ship forever. The ship was our homes, our life, our beautiful abode. We loved the ship, and had filled the ship with our lives, transforming it from a cold steel hull, into our den.
We lived there as family, all of us, in the ship that floated in the redwood clearing. It wasn't just my family, for there were others that lived there, too. There was the cold man, with the tip of his nose missing. There were the two girls about my age, that danced as if they had fairy-made blessings.
And then there were our friends who visited us in the ship, who would come down from the hills, and from the towns, and from their cramped homes, and who would fill our ship with love, and sound, and the smell of food, and laughter.
Those were the days. Those were the days of light, and love, and laughter.
But we were not supposed to be in the ship, according to those that made the laws. We were not supposed to have found the floating vessel, whose glimmering hull we had dulled with handfuls of sand. We were not supposed to have entered the stand of redwoods, whose branches must have held the very Sun and Moon in loving embraces. We were not supposed to have danced in those shining, burbling little rivulets, nor sang with the birds that came to nest in the cannons-made-houses. We were not supposed to have found paradise.
But then came the warning, the unintentional warning. Somehow, we got the word that the men were coming, coming to take us away from paradise. They were coming, and they were coming with guns, and fire, and pain in their cold, cold hearts. And we had six hours before they arrived.
And we looked around the ship, looked at all of our treasures there, and knew there was no way to take them all with us. We had filled the ship with the things we loved, with beauty, and with memory. We could not take it all.
We called our friends, and told them what was going on. Down, down, and down they came, from their cramped lives on the hills, from their houses where the glow of the commercial lights rendered darkness an impossibility, and an inescapable reality. Our friends filled our ship, and we stood together, even as we tried to gather what few things we knew we could carry.
When we heard the footsteps on the deck, we knew it was time. All of us, friends and ourselves, gathered in our central hall, where the warmth of winter fires had left soot on the fireplace walls. All of us waited for a moment we knew would come.
And it did. With a jackbooted foot propelling it inward, the door was shattered, the wood and steel screaming in agony as it hit the floor in countless shards. The men were there, men with guns, and with fire, and with hate, and with hearts of steel. Their faces were in shadow, but we knew they were watching us, expecting us to panic.
And so, we sang. Families and friends alike, we sang! And oh! How we sang! It rang to the rafters, rang to the trees, rang into the very heart of the heavens! As we sang, we were all crying, for we knew that we would be taken, but we sang anyway. Even as they took people away from the group, and beat them against the walls until blood flowed upon the floor, we continued singing. We sang until our song was done. They hurt until all of our friends were brutalized. And then they took us away.
They forced us to stand upon the ground as they set the ship's love on fire. The men filled our home with torches, and gasoline, and burned our love. We had nothing with us, not even what we had gathered. The men had used those gathered things to kindle the fire.
The men had us back away from the ship now, even as we cried, and prayed, and spat curses through the tears. They took out their guns, and they shot the ship to the ground. Then they kept shooting, desecrating the body until all that was left was a smoking, tortured ruin that howled as only a tortured love can, until one last man walked over, and shot the remains, one last time.
They packed us into a car, and they drove away from the field of their killing, taking us away, even as we beat upon the windows with bloodied fists, turning the glass crimson. And that was when we heard the saws, the buzzing and the whining. And then the crashing. All of us turned to look, and all of us felt our heard break again, and all of us screamed in agony.
For they were cutting down the redwoods. They were cutting down those mighty, beautiful trees that had stood for a millennium, and that would have stood until the end of the world, connecting earth and sky. "How can they do this?" asked one of the family, and his voice was made husky with the tears, and his pain. "Because they have guns, which gives them the right to kill." came my reply, spat through blood, and tears, and undying agony. And then, they drove us away forever.
---
If anyone would like to know the song, it's Afternoon On A Hill, written by Eric Barnum. Here's a version of the song done by University of Washington singers, and it's beautiful. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lradRFbJsQo
---
We had lived in the ship forever. The ship was our homes, our life, our beautiful abode. We loved the ship, and had filled the ship with our lives, transforming it from a cold steel hull, into our den.
We lived there as family, all of us, in the ship that floated in the redwood clearing. It wasn't just my family, for there were others that lived there, too. There was the cold man, with the tip of his nose missing. There were the two girls about my age, that danced as if they had fairy-made blessings.
And then there were our friends who visited us in the ship, who would come down from the hills, and from the towns, and from their cramped homes, and who would fill our ship with love, and sound, and the smell of food, and laughter.
Those were the days. Those were the days of light, and love, and laughter.
But we were not supposed to be in the ship, according to those that made the laws. We were not supposed to have found the floating vessel, whose glimmering hull we had dulled with handfuls of sand. We were not supposed to have entered the stand of redwoods, whose branches must have held the very Sun and Moon in loving embraces. We were not supposed to have danced in those shining, burbling little rivulets, nor sang with the birds that came to nest in the cannons-made-houses. We were not supposed to have found paradise.
But then came the warning, the unintentional warning. Somehow, we got the word that the men were coming, coming to take us away from paradise. They were coming, and they were coming with guns, and fire, and pain in their cold, cold hearts. And we had six hours before they arrived.
And we looked around the ship, looked at all of our treasures there, and knew there was no way to take them all with us. We had filled the ship with the things we loved, with beauty, and with memory. We could not take it all.
We called our friends, and told them what was going on. Down, down, and down they came, from their cramped lives on the hills, from their houses where the glow of the commercial lights rendered darkness an impossibility, and an inescapable reality. Our friends filled our ship, and we stood together, even as we tried to gather what few things we knew we could carry.
When we heard the footsteps on the deck, we knew it was time. All of us, friends and ourselves, gathered in our central hall, where the warmth of winter fires had left soot on the fireplace walls. All of us waited for a moment we knew would come.
And it did. With a jackbooted foot propelling it inward, the door was shattered, the wood and steel screaming in agony as it hit the floor in countless shards. The men were there, men with guns, and with fire, and with hate, and with hearts of steel. Their faces were in shadow, but we knew they were watching us, expecting us to panic.
And so, we sang. Families and friends alike, we sang! And oh! How we sang! It rang to the rafters, rang to the trees, rang into the very heart of the heavens! As we sang, we were all crying, for we knew that we would be taken, but we sang anyway. Even as they took people away from the group, and beat them against the walls until blood flowed upon the floor, we continued singing. We sang until our song was done. They hurt until all of our friends were brutalized. And then they took us away.
They forced us to stand upon the ground as they set the ship's love on fire. The men filled our home with torches, and gasoline, and burned our love. We had nothing with us, not even what we had gathered. The men had used those gathered things to kindle the fire.
The men had us back away from the ship now, even as we cried, and prayed, and spat curses through the tears. They took out their guns, and they shot the ship to the ground. Then they kept shooting, desecrating the body until all that was left was a smoking, tortured ruin that howled as only a tortured love can, until one last man walked over, and shot the remains, one last time.
They packed us into a car, and they drove away from the field of their killing, taking us away, even as we beat upon the windows with bloodied fists, turning the glass crimson. And that was when we heard the saws, the buzzing and the whining. And then the crashing. All of us turned to look, and all of us felt our heard break again, and all of us screamed in agony.
For they were cutting down the redwoods. They were cutting down those mighty, beautiful trees that had stood for a millennium, and that would have stood until the end of the world, connecting earth and sky. "How can they do this?" asked one of the family, and his voice was made husky with the tears, and his pain. "Because they have guns, which gives them the right to kill." came my reply, spat through blood, and tears, and undying agony. And then, they drove us away forever.
---
If anyone would like to know the song, it's Afternoon On A Hill, written by Eric Barnum. Here's a version of the song done by University of Washington singers, and it's beautiful. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lradRFbJsQo
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Eyes, Part Two
Many have said that eyes are the windows to the soul, for animals as well as for humans. We as humans seem to have a fascination with eyes, even going so far as to fear things that do not have eyes, or that cannot blink. We extol animals with human-like eyes (labradoodles, anyone?), yet shun things with eyes that are not humanoid in nature (octopodi spring to mind).
But this is not what I was planning to talk about. Not really.
~
The world grows and changes. Magma erupts from the surface, spraying to become lava as it touches the air, cooling to form solid rock. Water hisses to steam as pure fire meets the sea, sending a column of warring elements to the skies. Creation is in the air, watched by the eyes of the stars.
From the trees, eyes are watching. From the trees, down swing apes who stand upon their back legs. They test the ground, balancing and staring ahead at a horizon just out of sight. They walk into the grasses with heads held high, following a siren's call and a vision just out of reach.
There are buildings in the grass now, little huts made out of mud and sticks. The standing-apes are there now, balded and clothed in the skin of once-living denizens of the grasses about them. They have changed, but also not changed. Their bodies are bare, but their eyes... Their eyes are distant, still trying to spot the vision they followed.
Now, oh now, the buildings are speeding past faster than ever. Growing, changing, all watched by thousands of eyes. Shining, growing ever taller and faster, life speeds around, watched by thousands of eyes. Eyes of animals, eyes of upright-apes, eyes of metal and glass. Eyes are always watching.
But what is this? The eyelid falls, pauses, and rises, another blink in the life of an eye, cleaning itself. And everything is gone.
But this is not what I was planning to talk about. Not really.
~
The world grows and changes. Magma erupts from the surface, spraying to become lava as it touches the air, cooling to form solid rock. Water hisses to steam as pure fire meets the sea, sending a column of warring elements to the skies. Creation is in the air, watched by the eyes of the stars.
From the trees, eyes are watching. From the trees, down swing apes who stand upon their back legs. They test the ground, balancing and staring ahead at a horizon just out of sight. They walk into the grasses with heads held high, following a siren's call and a vision just out of reach.
There are buildings in the grass now, little huts made out of mud and sticks. The standing-apes are there now, balded and clothed in the skin of once-living denizens of the grasses about them. They have changed, but also not changed. Their bodies are bare, but their eyes... Their eyes are distant, still trying to spot the vision they followed.
Now, oh now, the buildings are speeding past faster than ever. Growing, changing, all watched by thousands of eyes. Shining, growing ever taller and faster, life speeds around, watched by thousands of eyes. Eyes of animals, eyes of upright-apes, eyes of metal and glass. Eyes are always watching.
But what is this? The eyelid falls, pauses, and rises, another blink in the life of an eye, cleaning itself. And everything is gone.
Blue Eyes and Strong Minds
First off, I am deeply sorry that this is the first post since last July. Life just started happening, fairly without warning, and I found myself swept away, a little out of control at times.
~
I have recently reread Frank Herbert's novel Dune, and its sequel Dune Messiah. I was enchanted immediately, and as my family will be glad to agree, I haven't shut up about the books since I finished them. Unfortunately, it seems that no-one in the school (who doesn't have a salary) has read these books, and so I am left with the deep loneliness of not being able to talk about what I have found to be truly fantastic books.
I have also been rereading Ender's Game (possibly my favorite book in the world) for my English 10 Honors class. I'm not entirely sure if I approve of the way the pace is going, but I am not teaching the class, although I do lead many of the conversations. So far, the class seems to be half-asleep, or possibly half-dead, and I'm just waiting for them to wake up a little so I can engage someone my own age in serious conversation about this book. I have my doubts that this will ever happen, though, because trying to discuss the setting of Ender's Game with the class so far has been like trying to lead around an obstinate hog without one of those hog-leading sticks. (No, I'm not making this up; to lead a pig, you must nudge it in the side of the head with a stick.)
So, with the juxtaposition of two (three, if you want to count Dune and Dune Messiah separately) of my favorite books, I began to notice very interesting similarities between the two main characters. Ender Wiggin and Paul Muad'Dib are startlingly similar to me, once I began to examine the events that surrounded them, and the events they participated in, willingly or otherwise.
One of the first things I noticed was that both of them had a deep desire to win, no matter the horrors that would have to be done. The motives might have been different, for Ender the motive being so that he wouldn't need to fight again (exhibits being his kicking to death a bully, and later killing a boy who attacked him, up to the final battle of the book), and for Paul the motive being to simply survive at first, then moving to carry out his will, but the desire was the same. Both of them show clearly a desire to win, and to win completely, with no-one left to hurt them again.
However, winning completely does not always win one friends. Both Ender and Paul were hated by many in their species, and many others wanted to see them fail, and fail completely. Ender was hated by the boys, and some teachers, he shared Battle School with, up to the point of being attacked in a Battle School bathroom (he won that battle completely, as well, and the attacker was rendered incapable of hurting anyone, ever again). Paul, on the other hand, was hated by far more than just a few boys and teachers. Paul angered the Spacing Guild, the Emperor, and the Bene Gesserit, all through his actions. When he displaced the Emperor on the throne and exercised his new power on spice, however, anger built up in stranger places, and conspiracies were formed among those Paul had always trusted.
For all that hated Ender and Paul, there were also those that followed them without much in the way of questions. Both were leaders of rarely-found charisma, and this charisma attracted people who would do anything for their leaders, even go to wars in distant places, to die on worlds years away from the place of their birth, to be killed in wars they did not start. Both Ender and Paul, as they grew into leadership, found their friends disappearing, not because of death, but because their friends became receptacles for orders and doctrine, like little machines created to dispense the orders of their superior. Ender watched this with his friends from Battle School, as they broke down when they failed him as their physical limits failed, while Paul watched worlds fall to their knees in worship of the great Muad'Dib, emperor-oracle, as his Fremen friends turned from wild desert-folk to the priests of a religion. Both had traded friends for creatures that would obey, and both felt the loneliness of power.
But how did these brilliant leaders come to be? Was it freak accident that produced Ender Wiggin, or Paul Muad'Dib? No. Both were bred for a purpose, although there was a slight element of unexpected chance surrounding Paul's rise. Ender Wiggin, a hated Third child, was born on commission, his parents receiving the request to produce a Third from the government on the hope that their child would save the world by wiping away the bugger threat. Paul was the result of ninety generations of Bene Gesserit breeding, although the element of surprise struck when he was born, as he was supposed to be born as a female for reasons the first book elaborates on beautifully. Both Ender and Paul were bred to play a role in a greater plan, of a greater plot within plots, and they were supposed to be used for that purpose. They were bred to be used as pawns in greater schemes.
These greater schemes, well, had very different outcomes in the two books. Ender was bred to save the world, and he did just that. He tried to rebel against the puppeteer adults in his final battle, and he played directly into their hands. He fulfilled his purpose for being born then, as he wiped out almost completely an entire species without knowing what he was doing. Paul, though, was not meant to be male. As a male, he had twisted his purpose by the virtue of his gender, and he rebelled against the new purpose he found himself 'offered' by the Bene Gesserit. His rebellion brought him to the Fremen, and eventually to the throne of Emperor as a Kwisatz Haderach, a different future than the one that had been set for him. Paul's rebellion was successful, in some respects, although one's definition of success is really one of the key factors in deciding this point.
It goes without saying that Paul and Ender were very different from their surrounding 'peers'. Both were brilliant in an uncommon way, along with being charismatic, and somewhat cut from the mold of rebellious wise-ass at times. Both displayed points of view that were rather more mature than most would have expected from younger people, as well. (Ender's knowledge of the unspoken laws of chivalry, and his rejection of them is an example of this. Paul's intuitive way of understanding diplomacy on Dune is, again, an example of this.) However, brilliance sometimes walks hand-in-hand with a touch of sociopathy, and both Ender and Paul display some of those earmarks. One of the most obvious is how they observe society's rules, then make their own, or disobey those rules of society in ways that make those around them cringe a little (see above examples).
Ender Wiggin and Paul Muad'Dib. Two boy-men, called gods by those who surround them in their respective stories. Both respected, and feared, embodying new powers emerging with the old powers unsure of what to do.
~
The above is what I have been thinking about for about a week now. For me, this realization that two of my favorite characters are of almost the same mold is somewhat of a shock while also being the most logical thing in the world. I feel rather lonely, though, with these thoughts because so few people around me have read both books, and are willing to talk. If you, dear readers, have read both books and want to talk, please comment.
~
I have recently reread Frank Herbert's novel Dune, and its sequel Dune Messiah. I was enchanted immediately, and as my family will be glad to agree, I haven't shut up about the books since I finished them. Unfortunately, it seems that no-one in the school (who doesn't have a salary) has read these books, and so I am left with the deep loneliness of not being able to talk about what I have found to be truly fantastic books.
I have also been rereading Ender's Game (possibly my favorite book in the world) for my English 10 Honors class. I'm not entirely sure if I approve of the way the pace is going, but I am not teaching the class, although I do lead many of the conversations. So far, the class seems to be half-asleep, or possibly half-dead, and I'm just waiting for them to wake up a little so I can engage someone my own age in serious conversation about this book. I have my doubts that this will ever happen, though, because trying to discuss the setting of Ender's Game with the class so far has been like trying to lead around an obstinate hog without one of those hog-leading sticks. (No, I'm not making this up; to lead a pig, you must nudge it in the side of the head with a stick.)
So, with the juxtaposition of two (three, if you want to count Dune and Dune Messiah separately) of my favorite books, I began to notice very interesting similarities between the two main characters. Ender Wiggin and Paul Muad'Dib are startlingly similar to me, once I began to examine the events that surrounded them, and the events they participated in, willingly or otherwise.
One of the first things I noticed was that both of them had a deep desire to win, no matter the horrors that would have to be done. The motives might have been different, for Ender the motive being so that he wouldn't need to fight again (exhibits being his kicking to death a bully, and later killing a boy who attacked him, up to the final battle of the book), and for Paul the motive being to simply survive at first, then moving to carry out his will, but the desire was the same. Both of them show clearly a desire to win, and to win completely, with no-one left to hurt them again.
However, winning completely does not always win one friends. Both Ender and Paul were hated by many in their species, and many others wanted to see them fail, and fail completely. Ender was hated by the boys, and some teachers, he shared Battle School with, up to the point of being attacked in a Battle School bathroom (he won that battle completely, as well, and the attacker was rendered incapable of hurting anyone, ever again). Paul, on the other hand, was hated by far more than just a few boys and teachers. Paul angered the Spacing Guild, the Emperor, and the Bene Gesserit, all through his actions. When he displaced the Emperor on the throne and exercised his new power on spice, however, anger built up in stranger places, and conspiracies were formed among those Paul had always trusted.
For all that hated Ender and Paul, there were also those that followed them without much in the way of questions. Both were leaders of rarely-found charisma, and this charisma attracted people who would do anything for their leaders, even go to wars in distant places, to die on worlds years away from the place of their birth, to be killed in wars they did not start. Both Ender and Paul, as they grew into leadership, found their friends disappearing, not because of death, but because their friends became receptacles for orders and doctrine, like little machines created to dispense the orders of their superior. Ender watched this with his friends from Battle School, as they broke down when they failed him as their physical limits failed, while Paul watched worlds fall to their knees in worship of the great Muad'Dib, emperor-oracle, as his Fremen friends turned from wild desert-folk to the priests of a religion. Both had traded friends for creatures that would obey, and both felt the loneliness of power.
But how did these brilliant leaders come to be? Was it freak accident that produced Ender Wiggin, or Paul Muad'Dib? No. Both were bred for a purpose, although there was a slight element of unexpected chance surrounding Paul's rise. Ender Wiggin, a hated Third child, was born on commission, his parents receiving the request to produce a Third from the government on the hope that their child would save the world by wiping away the bugger threat. Paul was the result of ninety generations of Bene Gesserit breeding, although the element of surprise struck when he was born, as he was supposed to be born as a female for reasons the first book elaborates on beautifully. Both Ender and Paul were bred to play a role in a greater plan, of a greater plot within plots, and they were supposed to be used for that purpose. They were bred to be used as pawns in greater schemes.
These greater schemes, well, had very different outcomes in the two books. Ender was bred to save the world, and he did just that. He tried to rebel against the puppeteer adults in his final battle, and he played directly into their hands. He fulfilled his purpose for being born then, as he wiped out almost completely an entire species without knowing what he was doing. Paul, though, was not meant to be male. As a male, he had twisted his purpose by the virtue of his gender, and he rebelled against the new purpose he found himself 'offered' by the Bene Gesserit. His rebellion brought him to the Fremen, and eventually to the throne of Emperor as a Kwisatz Haderach, a different future than the one that had been set for him. Paul's rebellion was successful, in some respects, although one's definition of success is really one of the key factors in deciding this point.
It goes without saying that Paul and Ender were very different from their surrounding 'peers'. Both were brilliant in an uncommon way, along with being charismatic, and somewhat cut from the mold of rebellious wise-ass at times. Both displayed points of view that were rather more mature than most would have expected from younger people, as well. (Ender's knowledge of the unspoken laws of chivalry, and his rejection of them is an example of this. Paul's intuitive way of understanding diplomacy on Dune is, again, an example of this.) However, brilliance sometimes walks hand-in-hand with a touch of sociopathy, and both Ender and Paul display some of those earmarks. One of the most obvious is how they observe society's rules, then make their own, or disobey those rules of society in ways that make those around them cringe a little (see above examples).
Ender Wiggin and Paul Muad'Dib. Two boy-men, called gods by those who surround them in their respective stories. Both respected, and feared, embodying new powers emerging with the old powers unsure of what to do.
~
The above is what I have been thinking about for about a week now. For me, this realization that two of my favorite characters are of almost the same mold is somewhat of a shock while also being the most logical thing in the world. I feel rather lonely, though, with these thoughts because so few people around me have read both books, and are willing to talk. If you, dear readers, have read both books and want to talk, please comment.
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