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2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10. WOLFWALKERS – eleven years ago, Irish director Tomm Moore exploded onto the animated cinema scene with The Secret of Kells, a spellbinding feature debut which captivated audiences the world over and even garnered an Oscar nomination. Admittedly I didn’t actually even know about it until I discovered his work through his astonishing follow-up, Song of the Sea (another Academy Award nominee), in 2015, so when I finally caught it I was already a fan of Moore’s work. It’s been a similarly long wait for his third feature, but he’s genuinely pulled off a hat-trick, delivering a third flawless film in a row which OF COURSE means that his latest feature is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my top animated feature of 2020. I could even be tempted to say it’s his best work to date … this is an ASTONISHING film, a work of such breath-taking, spell-binding beauty that I spent its entire hour and three-quarters glued to the screen, simple mesmerised by the wonder and majesty of this latest iteration of the characteristically stylised “Cartoon Saloon” look. It’s also liberally steeped in Moore’s trademark Celtic vibe and atmosphere, once again delving deep into his homeland’s rich and evocative cultural history and mythology while also bringing us something far more original and personal – this time the titular supernatural beings are magical near-human beings whose own subconscious can assume the form of very real wolves. Set in a particularly dark time in Irish history – namely 1650, when Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector – the story follows Robyn (Honor Kneafsey, probably best known for the Christmas Prince films), the impetuous and spirited young daughter of English hunter Bill Goodfellowe (Sean Bean), brought in by the Protectorate to rid the city of Kilkenny of the wolves plaguing the area. One day fate intervenes and Robyn meets Mebh Og MacTire (The Girl at the End of the Garden‘s Eve Whittaker), a wild girl living in the woods, whose accidental bite gives her strange dreams in which she becomes a wolf – turns out Mebh is a wolfwalker, and now so is Robyn … every aspect of this film is an utter triumph for Moore and co, who have crafted a work of living, breathing cinematic art that’s easily the equal to (if not even better than) the best that Disney, Dreamworks or any of the other animation studios could create. Then there’s the excellent voice cast – Bean brings fatherly warmth and compassion to the role that belies his character’s intimidating size, while Kneafsey and Whittaker make for a sweet and sassy pair as they bond in spite of powerful cultural differences, and the masterful Simon McBurney (Harry Potter, Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) brings cool, understated menace to the role of Cromwell himself. This is a film with plenty of emotional heft to go with its marvels, and once again displays the welcome dark side which added particular spice to Moore’s previous films, but ultimately this is still a gentle and heartfelt work of wonder that makes for equally suitable viewing for children as for those who are still kids at heart – ultimately, then, this is another triumph for one of the most singularly original filmmakers working in animation today, and if Wolfwalkers doesn’t make it third time lucky come Oscars-time then there’s no justice in the world …

9. WONDER WOMAN 1984 – probably the biggest change for 2020 compared to pretty much all of the past decade is how different the fortunes of superhero cinema turned out to be. A year earlier the Marvel Cinematic Universe had dominated all, but the DC Extended Universe still got a good hit in with big surprise hit Shazam! Fast-forward to now and things are VERY different – DC suddenly came out in the lead, but only because Marvel’s intended heavy-hitters (two MCU movies, the first Venom sequel and potential hot-shit new franchise starter Morbius: the Living Vampire) found themselves continuously pushed back thanks to (back then) unforeseen circumstances which continue to shit all over our theatre-going slate for the immediate future. In the end DC’s only SERIOUS competition turned out to be NETFLIX … never mind, at least we got ONE big established superhero blockbuster into the cinemas before the end of the year that the whole family could enjoy, and who better to headline it than DC’s “newest” big screen megastar, Diana Prince? Back in 2017 Monster’s Ball director Patty Jenkins’ monumental DCEU standalone spectacularly realigned the trajectory of a cinematic franchise that was visibly flagging, redesigning the template for the series’ future which has since led to some (mostly) consistently impressive subsequent offerings. Needless to say it was a damn tough act to follow, but Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns (Arrow and The Flash) and David Callaham (The Expendables, Zombieland: Double Tap, future MCU entry Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings) have risen to the challenge in fine style, delivering something which pretty much equals that spectacular franchise debut … as has Gal Gadot, who’s now OFFICIALLY made the role her own thanks to yet another showstopping and definitive performance as the unstoppable Amazonian goddess living amongst us. She’s older and wiser than in the first film, but still hasn’t lost that forthright honesty and wonderfully pure heart we’ve come to love ever since her introduction in Zack Snyder’s troublesome but ultimately underrated Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice (yes, that’s right, I said it!), and Gadot’s clear, overwhelming commitment to the role continues to pay off magnificently as she once again proves that Diana is THE VERY BEST superhero in the DCEU cinematic pantheon. Although it takes place several decades after its predecessor, WW84 is, obviously, still very much a period piece, Jenkins and co this time perfectly capturing the sheer opulent and over-the-top tastelessness of the 1980s in all its big-haired, bad-suited, oversized shoulder-padded glory while telling a story that encapsulates the greedy excessiveness of the Reagan era, perfectly embodied in the film’s nominal villain, Max Lord (The Mandalorian himself, Pedro Pascal), a wishy-washy wannabe oil tycoon conman who chances upon a supercharged wish-rock and unleashes a devastating supernatural “monkey’s paw” upon the world. To say any more would give away a whole raft of spectacular twists and turns that deserve to be enjoyed good and cold, although they did spoil one major surprise in the trailer when they teased the return of Diana’s first love, Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) … needless to say this is another big blockbuster bursting with big characters, big action and BIG IDEAS, just what we’ve come to expect after Wonder Woman’s first triumphant big screen adventure. Interestingly, the film starts out feeling like it’s going to be a bubbly, light, frothy affair – after a particularly stunning all-action opening flashback to Diana’s childhood on Themyscira, the film proper kicks off with a bright and breezy atmosphere that feels a bit like the kind of Saturday morning cartoon action the consistently impressive set-pieces take such unfettered joy in parodying, but as the stakes are raised the tone grows darker and more emotionally potent, the storm clouds gathering for a spectacularly epic climax that, for once, doesn’t feel too overblown or weighed down by its visual effects, while the intelligent script has unfathomable hidden depths to it, making us think far more than these kinds of blockbusters usually do. It’s really great to see Chris Pine return since he was one of the best things about the first movie, and his lovably childlike wide-eyed wonder at this brave new world perfectly echoes Diana’s own last time round; Kristen Wiig, meanwhile, is pretty phenomenal throughout as Dr Barbara Minerva, the initially geeky and timid nerd who discovers an impressive inner strength but ultimately turns into a superpowered apex predator as she becomes one of Wonder Woman’s most infamous foes, the Cheetah; Pascal, of course, is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up to the hilt as Lord, playing gloriously against his effortlessly cool, charismatic action hero image to deliver a compellingly troubling examination of the monstrous corrupting influence of absolute power. Once again, though, the film truly belongs to Gadot – she looks amazing, acts her socks off magnificently, and totally rules the movie. After this, a second sequel is a no-brainer, because Wonder Woman remains the one DC superhero who’s truly capable of bearing the weight of this particular cinematic franchise on her powerful shoulders – needless to say, it’s already been greenlit, and with both Jenkins and Gadot onboard, I’m happy to sign up for more too …

8. LOVE & MONSTERS – with the cinemas continuing their frustrating habit of opening for a little while and then closing while the pandemic ebbed and flowed in the months after the summer season, it was starting to look like there might not have been ANY big budget blockbusters to enjoy before year’s end as heavyweights like Black Widow, No Time To Die and Dune pulled back to potentially more certain release slots into 2021 (with only WW84 remaining stubbornly in place for Christmas). Then Paramount decided to throw us a bone, opting to release this post-apocalyptic horror comedy on-demand in October instead, thus giving me the perfect little present to tie me over during the darkening days of autumn. The end result was a stone-cold gem that came out of nowhere to completely blow critics away, a spectacular sleeper hit that ultimately proved one of the year’s biggest and most brilliant surprises. Director Michael Matthews may only have had South African indie thriller Five Fingers for Marseilles under his belt prior to this, but he proves he’s definitely a solid talent to watch in the future, crafting a fun and effective thrill-ride that, like all the best horror comedies, is consistently as funny as it is scary, sharing much of the same DNA as this particular mash-up genre’s classics like Tremors and Zombieland and standing up impressively well to such comparisons. The story, penned by rising star Brian Duffield (who has TWO other entries on this list, Underwater and Spontaneous) and Matthew Robinson (The Invention of Lying, Dora & the Lost City of Gold), is also pretty ingenious and surprisingly original – a meteorite strike has unleashed weird mutagenic pathogens that warp various creepy crawly critters into gigantic monstrosities that have slaughter most of the world’s human population, leaving only a beleaguered, dwindling few to eke out a precarious living in underground colonies. Living in one such makeshift community is Joel Dawson (The Maze Runner’s Dylan O’Brien), a smart and likeable geek who really isn’t very adventurous, is extremely awkward and uncoordinated, and has a problem with freezing if threatened … which makes it all the more inexplicable when he decides, entirely against the advice of everyone he knows, to venture onto the surface so he can make the incredibly dangerous week-long trek to the neighbouring colony where his girlfriend Aimee (Iron Fist’s Jessica Henwick) has ended up. Joel is, without a doubt, the best role that O’Brien has EVER had, a total dork who’s completely unsuited to this kind of adventure and, in the real world, sure to be eaten alive in the first five minutes, but he’s also such a fantastically believable, fallible everyman that every one of us desperate, pathetic omega-males and females can instantly put ourselves in his place, making it elementarily easy to root for him. He’s also hilariously funny, his winningly self-deprecating sass and pitch perfect talent for physical comedy making it all the more rewarding watching each gloriously anarchic life-and-death encounter mould him into the year’s most unlikely action hero. Henwick, meanwhile, once again impresses in a well-written role where she’s able to make a big impression despite her decidedly short screen time, as do the legendary Michael Rooker and brilliant newcomer Ariana Greenblatt as Clyde and Minnow, the adorably jaded, seen-it-all-before pair of “professional survivors” Joel meets en-route, who teach him to survive on the surface. The action is fast, frenetic and potently visceral, the impressively realistic digital creature effects bringing a motley crew of bloodthirsty beasties to suitably blood-curdling life for the film’s consistently terrifying set-pieces, while the world-building is intricately thought-out and skilfully executed. Altogether, this was an absolute joy from start to finish, and a film I enthusiastically endorsed to everyone I knew was looking for something fun to enjoy during the frustrating lockdown nights-in. One of the cinematic year’s best kept secrets then, and a compelling sign of things to come for its up-and-coming director.

7. PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all. It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering deeply troubling answers. Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s good luck charm, Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two pennies together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity. Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the kids contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically. But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon. This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head to stunning effect. The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon. This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away. Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade. Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …

6. THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’ undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular series with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping great ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in a thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered. Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan. The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here. Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’. They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story. Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large. After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

5. MANK – it’s always nice when David Fincher, one of my TOP FIVE ALL TIME FAVOURITE DIRECTORS, drops a new movie, because it can be GUARANTEED to place good and high in my rundown for that year. The man is a frickin’ GENIUS, a true master of the craft, genuinely one of the auteur’s auteurs. I’ve NEVER seen him deliver a bad film – even a misfiring Fincher (see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Alien 3) is still capable of creating GREAT CINEMA. How? Why? It’s because he genuinely LOVES the art form, it’s been his obsession all his life, and he’s spent every day of it becoming the best possible filmmaker he can be. Who better to tell the story of the creation of one of the ULTIMATE cinematic masterpieces, then? Benjamin Ross’ acclaimed biopic RKO 281 covered similar ground, presenting a compelling look into the making Citizen Kane, the timeless masterpiece of Hollywood’s ULTIMATE auteur, Orson Welles, but Fincher’s film is more interested in the original inspiration for the story, how it was written and, most importantly, the man who wrote it – Herman J. Mankiewicz, known to his friends as Mank. One of my favourite actors of all time, Gary Oldman, delivers yet another of his career best performances in the lead role, once a man of vision and incredible storytelling skill whose talents have largely been squandered through professional difficulties and personal vices, a burned out one-time great fallen on hard times whom Welles picks up out of the trash, dusts off and offers a chance to create something truly great again. The only catch? The subject of their film (albeit dressed up in the guise of fictional newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane) is to be real-life publisher, politico and tycoon William Randolph Hurst (Charles Dance), once Mank’s friend and patron before they had a very public and messy falling out which partly led to his current circumstances. As he toils away in seclusion on what is destined to become his true masterwork, flashbacks reveal to us the fascinating, moving and ultimately tragic tale of his rise and fall from grace in the movie business, set against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous periods in American history. Shooting a script that his own journalist and screenwriter father, Jack, crafted and then failed to bring to the screen himself before his death in 2003, Fincher has been working for almost a quarter century to make this film, and all that passion and drive is writ large on the screen – this is a glorious film ABOUT film, the art of it, the creation of it, and all the dirty little secrets of what the industry itself has always really been like, especially in that most glamorous and illusory of times. The fact that Fincher shot in black and white and intentionally made it look like it was made in the early 1940s (the “golden age of the Silver Screen”, if you will) may seem like a gimmick, but instead it’s a very shrewd choice that expertly captures the gloss and moodiness of the age, almost looking like a contemporary companion piece to Kane itself, and it’s the perfect way to frame all the sharp-witted observation, subtly subversive character development and murky behind-the-scenes machinations that tell the story. Oldman is in every way the star here, holding the screen with all the consummate skill and flair we’ve come to expect from him, but there’s no denying the uniformly excellent supporting cast are equal to the task here – Dance is at his regal, charismatic best as Hearst, while Amanda Seyfried is icily classy on the surface but mischievous and lovably grounded underneath as Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies, who formed the basis for Kane’s most controversial character, Arliss Howard (Full Metal Jacket, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Moneyball) brings nuance and complexity to the role of MGM founder Louis B. Mayer, Tom Pelphrey (Banshee, Ozark) is understated but compelling as Mank’s younger screenwriter brother Joseph, and Lily Collins and Tuppence Middleton exude class and long-suffering stubbornness as the two main women in Mank’s life (his secretary and platonic muse, Rita Alexander, and his wife, Sara), while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke’s periodic but potent appearances as Orson Welles help to drive the story in the “present”. Another Netflix release which I was (thankfully) able to catch on the big screen during one of the brief lulls between British lockdowns, this was a decidedly meta cinematic experience that perfectly encapsulated not only what is truly required for the creation of a screen epic, but also the latest pinnacle in the career of one of the greatest filmmakers working in the business today, powerful, stirring, intriguing and surprising in equal measure. Certainly it’s one of the most important films ABOUT so far film this century, but is it as good as Citizen Kane? Boy, that’s a tough one …

4. ENOLA HOLMES – ultimately, my top film for the autumn/winter movie season was also the film which finally topped my Netflix Original features list, as well as beating all other streaming offerings for the entire year (which is saying something, as you should know by now). Had things been different, this would have been one of Warner Bros’ BIGGEST releases for the year in the cinema, of that I have no doubt, a surprise sleeper hit which would have taken the world by storm – as it is it’s STILL become a sensation, albeit in a much more mid-pandemic, lockdown home-viewing kind of way. Before you start crying oh God no, not another Sherlock Holmes adaptation, this is a very different beast from either the Guy Ritchie take or the modernized BBC show, instead side-lining the great literary sleuth in favour of a delicious new AU version, based on The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first novel in the Enola Holmes Mysteries literary series from American YA author Nancy Springer. Positing that Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his elder brother Mycroft (Sam Claflin) had an equally ingenious and precocious baby sister, the film introduces us to Enola (Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who’s been raised at home by their strong-willed mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) to be just as intelligent, well-read and intellectually skilled as her far more advantageously masculine elder siblings. Then, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Enola awakens to find her mother has vanished, putting her in a pretty pickle since this leaves her a ward of Mycroft, a self-absorbed social peacock who finds her to be wilfully free-spirited and completely ill equipped to face the world, concluding that the only solution is sending her to boarding school where she’ll learn to become a proper lady. Needless to say she’s horrified by the prospect, deciding to run away and search for her mother instead … this is about as perfect a family adventure film as you could wish for, following a vital, capable and compelling teen detective-in-the-making as she embarks on her very first investigation, as well as winding up tangled in a second to boot involving a young runaway noble, Viscount Tewkesbury, the Marquess of Basilwether (Medici’s Louis Partridge), and the film is a breezy, swift-paced and rewardingly entertaining romp that feels like a welcome breath of fresh air for a literary property which, beloved as it may be, has been adapted to death over the years. Enola Holmes a brilliant young hero who’s perfectly crafted to carry the franchise forward in fresh new directions, and Brown brings her to life with effervescent charm, boisterous energy and mischievous irreverence that are entirely irresistible; Cavill and Claflin, meanwhile, are perfectly cast as the two very different brothers – this Sherlock is much less louche and world-weary than most previous versions, still razor sharp and intellectually restless but with a comfortable ease and a youthful spring in his step that perfectly suits the actor, while Mycroft is as superior and arrogant as ever, a preening arse we derive huge enjoyment watching Enola consistently get the best of; Bonham Carter doesn’t get a lot of screen-time but as we’d expect she does a lot with what she has to make the practical, eccentric and unapologetically modern Eudoria thoroughly memorable, while Partridge is carefree and likeable as the naïve but irresistible Tewkesbury, and there are strong supporting turns from Frances de la Tour as his stately grandmother, the Dowager, Susie Wokoma (Crazyhead, Truth Seekers) as Emily, a feisty suffragette who runs a jujitsu studio, Burn Gorman as dastardly thug-for-hire Linthorn, and Four Lions’ Adeel Akhtar as a particularly scuzzy Inspector Lestrade. Seasoned TV director Harry Bradbeer (Fleabag, Killing Eve) makes his feature debut with an impressive splash, unfolding the action at a brisk pace while keeping the narrative firmly focused on an intricate mystery plot that throws in plenty of ingenious twists and turns before a suitably atmospheric climax and pleasing denouement which nonetheless artfully sets up more to come in the future, while screenwriter Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials, The Scouting Book for Boys, Wonder) delivers strong character work and liberally peppers the dialogue with a veritable cavalcade of witty zingers. Boisterous, compelling, amusing, affecting and exciting in equal measure, this is a spirited and appealing slice of cinematic escapism that flatters its viewers and never talks down to them, a perfect little period adventure for a cosy Sunday afternoon. Obviously there’s plenty of potential for more, and with further books to adapt there’s more than enough material for a pile of sequels – Neflix would be barmy indeed to turn their nose up at this opportunity …

3. 1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed. Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed. The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that’s impossible to tear your eyes away from. Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league. It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is True History of the Kelly Gang’s George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack). They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overtly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos. That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DOP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is utterly immersive and simply STUNNING. I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same. Either way, this was the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I had at the cinema all year – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …

2. BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number two is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen. It was been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it was done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than the Wonder Woman movies). It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one talented psychiatrist. Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley TRUE justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to. Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the assumed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about. Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what had to be 2020’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action hero potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain. Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discover her warrior origins when the DCEU finally gets around to introducing her mum, Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy. My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT. Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch of badass ladies, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz. This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster ever made – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms. It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!). It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists. Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date, and VERY NEARLY my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020. Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.

1. TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly saved our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that my ultimate top-spot winner FOR THE WHOLE YEAR was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August and ultimately taking the bite at the box office because of the still shaky atmosphere), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with. I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the first reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night-out big screen EXPERIENCE since March. Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT. Still with us? Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who was ALMOST the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s Himesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine. The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even if that amazing new teaser trailer wasn’t making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic. As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual triumph and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some absolutely mesmerising visuals. Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he had good reason, since he was working on his dream project at the time, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his collaborations with Ryan Coogler Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as career-best work on The Mandalorian) is a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence this film is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven. As a work of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that proved truly unbeatable in 2020 …

#wolfwalkers #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #love and monsters #parasite #parasite movie #the old guard #mank #enola holmes #1917 #1917 movie #Birds of Prey #birds of prey the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #tenet #tenet movie #2020 in movies

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deadinsidedressage · 5 years ago

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Why Acti-Veg’s “Ethical Issues with Horse Riding” is Flawed

Militant vegans and animal right’s activists alike have determined that horse riding is an inherently unethical activity. Yet the criticism they dole out is inherently flawed itself. In a recent run-in with the vegan community a “source” provided to shame me about being an equestrian was a post by Acti-Veg.

The following will be a look into the claims made in that post by myself, someone who has grown up around horses, ridden a variety of disciplines, witnessed the spectrum of how personal finances impact horse care, and currently work for a top level professional.

To really delve into the flaws in the arguments made in Acti-Veg’s post we must first acknowledge one difficult truth: Abusive practices in horse riding, horse training, and horse management still exist, still are popular, and are extremely visible. There’s a higher degree of accepted abusive practices the lower on the economic spectrum the culture of a given discipline, breed, or nation tends to be. The ugly truth about animal abuse and neglect is that it tends to occur because of a lack of education. A lack of education occurs because of poverty. The poverty cycle and the impacts it has on education is well-documented and something I am personally acquainted with as an educator in an under-serviced community. The way we break abusive practices in any animal husbandry starts with making education free and accessible. Yet there’s the flaw with equestrianism--- it’s an extremely classist endeavor. There is a hard class division between the ability to be a truly ethical horse owner and as an unintentionally neglectful or outright abusive horse owner. The class issue in equestrian is two-fold; on the one hand there’s the lack of educational opportunities free from a paywall that could help erase abusive practices, on the other there’s the psychology of poverty and the creation of a “us versus them” mindset (often what I refer to as the “underdog mentality). There are limited opportunities for people to access affordable/free education to improve their horse care, handling, riding/training and when there is it is often meant with hostility. The unfortunate fact is that people who are engaging in abusive and neglectful practices because of lack of education are also extremely defensive of having their practices questioned. They fall into an assumption that the party attempting to educate them is just an embodiment of the upper class and judgmental because of their privilege. In the US, this dichotomy is primarily seen in the split between Western and English disciplines. With Western often engaging in “old timey”,“cowboy” practices and English being dismissed as “snooty”, “spoiled” and so forth. Refusal to change and adjust to ethical practices is seen as a place of pride because the “cowboy method” is upheld against the assumed “spoiled princesses” who have “everything done for them”. These people believe themselves to be “do-it-yourselfers”, of succeeding despite “the system”, and of having “worked for what they have”. Abuse and neglect is not exclusive to Western disciplines, but the vast majority of under-educated unintentional abusers, in my experience, come from Western disciplines.

When I discuss counter-points to vegan talking points, I am speaking specifically of ethical equestrianism. Horse ownership, care, and training rooted in a belief in continuing education. A group that is self-aware of the flaws in the sport and who advocate for global changes toward ethical equestrianism.

With that out of the way, the first point latched onto is the use of the term “breaking” when discussing the training of horses for riding:

“... horses are forced to accept a rider against their will. A lack of resistance does not mean that a horse has consented to being ridden, it simply means a horse has figured out that it is in their best interests to allow it to happen. Even the term “breaking” implies an acknowledgement of the truth of this fact.”

Breaking is an antiquated term and while still used in the equine community to describe starting horses under saddle, when we are discussing ethical horse training it is simply a colloquialism. The post mentions still-existing though admittedly abusive practices such as laying down a horse (forcibly dropping a horse to force “submission”) and begrudgingly refers to currently accepted slow-start practices though insistent that that is still an inherently abusive practice. The fact is, when discussing the practice of training a horse to be ridden as “unnatural” is only as true as the act of domestication is unnatural. Domesticated animals do not have the same instincts as their wild counterparts. They have had instincts bred out of them and the ability to enjoy co-habitation with humans bred into them. Do horses feel the need to be ridden? No. Neither do cats or dogs feel the need to live with us, but like these are all animals that have been bred to accept and enjoy human socialization. Riding is a form of socialization. Dependent on the breed and individual personality of the horse, not only is riding a fulfilling form of inter-species socialization but it’s a form of complex mental and physical stimulation they need for quality of life. Yes, just like there are dogs that have been so purpose bred they develop neurosis when kept “just as a pet” there are horses who have the same need for work.

Another point the post tries to make is about growth plates and long-term impacts of riding prior to fusion:

However, studies demonstrate that the epiphyseal plates in the body of the lumbar vertebrae of thoroughbred horses is not fully developed until they are between 6 and 9 years old, and that riding them before this time can cause lasting injuries. Even after this age, damage to the spine resulting from riding is common. In one study, 91.5% of ridden horses studied were diagnosed with some kind of alteration of the spine after x-ray, even though they seemed perfectly healthy prior to the scan.

The post sites two studies, one which is written by someone with their PhD in holistic medicine, a clear anti-riding bias, and a misunderstanding of kissing-spine as universal to all horses. The other is in German. Were the entire post in German and meant for German speakers I wouldn’t have an issue with sourcing a study in German... but as it’s directed toward an English-speaking audience and it’s in German... I mean that just reeks of twisting facts to suit your narrative while preventing people from fact-checking you.

Here’s the thing about growth plates and horses, we also have studies that have shown that light age appropriate work helps with bone density, helps remedy some conformational flaws, and does not damage. The key word is appropriate.

Reining and racing are the two top sports that skew data sets toward showing detrimental impacts on the longevity of horses because they are sports that start horses too early and with too high of intensity for it not to result in damage. Ethically developed young horses are given long stretches of off time to accommodate growth phases and are worked lightly. A 4 year old is not worked with the intensity of a 14 year old.

There’s also the issue of kissing spine which is still not fully understood. It’s most prevalent in Quarter Horses, Thoroughbred, and Warmbloods--- the three arguably most populous riding horse breeds. There is some debate as to what causes it or the extent of the genetic component, but kissing spine has been discovered in the remains of prehistoric, pre-domesticated horses.

I would also argue that depending on the age demographic of the “91.5%” study that there’s also just the nature of wear and tear on bodies. Within the equestrian community it’s known that no horse is going to vet entirely clean because that’s not how being a living creature works. Life has impact on the body and even humans who’ve never engaged in sports activities will develop conditions like arthritis as they age. Especially when we consider that medical advancements have surpasses ours and our domesticated friends’ evolutionary lifespans. Simply put, ours’ and theirs’ bodies will begin to breakdown long before there are no longer care options to prolong life.

A point that is barely worth mentioning because of the seeming refusal of the author’s post to do any research in order to attempt an educated opinion is on the use of training equipment and aids:

On top of the process of riding, many riders inflict additional harm on their horses using instruments like harnesses, bits and whips; even saddles can restrict blood flow and cause chafing, this is not including general injuries sustained by horses which are part and parcel of being ridden. Bits are particularly harmful, as they damage horse’s sensitive nerves, their teeth, tongue and palate.

None of this equipment is inherently harmful. An ill-fitting saddle or an incorrectly used bit and the damage they can cause are not equatable to a properly fitting saddle and a correctly used bit. They don’t even give me something to counter here other than saying “no, that’s wrong” because they have so little understanding of the use of tools in training and riding horses. Saddles can cause chafing--- hmm, does that reason that a vegan would then prefer if I “had” to ride I did so bareback? What about the studies I can pull up showing that bareback riding is detrimental to spine health... The “not including general injuries sustained by horses which are part and parcel of being ridden” portion of this is a little hilarious as someone who has always been around horses. Yes, it’s not out of the question for a horse to sustain small injuries through the course of being ridden just as it’s not out of the question for a human person engaging in any physical activity to sustain small injuries. What about potentially “career ending” injuries though? Anecdotally, I know of few horses with injuries that lead to retirement from riding that actually occurred while being ridden. Horses are an evolutionary shitshow and much of that is evident in their tendency to injure their legs in somewhat miraculous ways. Additionally, injuries that could occur from work are also mostly preventable and this is where the class/educational barrier raises it’s ugly head again. A top tier dressage horse is likely to have more overall stress on their body than the average 4H horse. However, the dressage horse is also going to be exposed to preventative and aftercare measure such as boots/polos, icing, poultice, theraplating, PEMF, laser therapy, nutritional support, structured warm-up/cool-down, etc. The 4H horse is usually lucky if someone notices they’ve bowed a tendon or developed a bone spur. There is so much that education can do in prevention of injury and wear.

The supposed “gotcha” moment of this post comes when talking about euthanasia, making bold claims about horses being disposed of when they outlive usefulness:

One in particular, an owner of a horse equipment shop, explained the reasoning: “I really love horses. But when they’re no good to me, what are you going to do with them? We don’t want to take ‘em out back and shoot ‘em. They may just as well be slaughtered, and get some use out of them.” Another commented that: “Chickens for eggs, lambs for wool, cows for milk, horses for work, and when their useful, productive life has passed, then you turn them into meat.”

Part of me honestly doesn’t really believe this is a real quote by a real person, but these people also do exist. There also is the unfortunate reality of the “slaughter pipeline” in the US in which horses who are sent to auction often end up in the hands of kill buyers who ship them over the boarder to sell for meat.

As far as should a horse be killed when it surpasses “usefulness”? Absolutely not. Ethical equestrians don’t view horses this way and recognize that an animal which has offered so much by way of partnership deserves a soft retirement and a loving home until they die. However, the post tries to take an anti-euthanasia stance period:

“..most owner’s prefer to euthanize animals when they become too old or sick to walk or ride”

If you’re not catching the problematic part of that sentence, there’s the suggestion that it’s wrong to euthanize an animal that can’t walk. The inability to conceptualize quality of life over quantity of life seems to be a recurring theme with vegans. An animal that is evolutionarily designed to roam miles in a day, essentially need movement to help with digestion, and can’t communicate pain isn’t an animal that can be ethically kept alive when it loses the ability to be comfortably mobile. It is better to euthanize any animal in order to prevent suffering that is to force them to live through it. Animals cannot conceptualize pain the way a human being can. A horse does not wake up in pain and think “well, thank god I’ve lived through another day!”. It wakes up, feels itself in pain, and suffers.

Now, to indulge myself in my own controversial opinions... I think horse slaughter should be legalized in the United States and regulated in order to make sure it is done in an ethical manner. There is simply too high an over-populous of unethically bred horses that are not going to be placed in homes to justify the horrors involved in the shipment of horses to slaughter. Horses currently going through the slaughter pipeline due to being undesired go through horrific non-stop truck journeys in which they are crowded, starved, dehydrated, extremely stressed, and sometimes even die in the process of the trip. It’s a cruel end to the horse. Horses are also extremely expensive animals that require a high degree of care in order for their needs to truly be met. This post referenced horse owners as spending an average of roughly $3,500 a year on their horse. That is a shockingly low number and indicative of how normalized neglectful care is. Prices of care certainly change based on location, but personally keeping my horse at an absolute basic level of care while assuming no vet emergencies are taking place and without factoring any of the expenses keeping her in work would entail.. I am at nearly $10k a year and that’s with doing the absolute minimum with zero preventative care. I also have no issue with the sentiment of horse owners who’d like to see some “usefulness” out of the death of their horse. The practice of either taking the meat from your deceased horse for you family or to be given to the needy in the community is standard in Norway. It isn’t a taboo, it’s a sensible way to dispose of the corpse of a large animal in a way that doesn’t negatively impact the environment and honors the horse. I know people who have donated their horses’s corpses to wildlife sanctuaries to feed animals. For some people being able to ascribe some meaning pr purpose to the death of their animal is needed for coping.

The major thing with this post is that it lacks the understanding of nuance. It condemns riding as a whole based off an awareness of abusive practices that activists within the community are trying to change. Arguments made are made without the education to back up the points being attempted and when all else fails it’s reliant on the classic militant vegan rhetoric about interaction with animals being exploitative. Ultimately while not as egregious as PETA thinking sheering sheep involves skinning them, this is the horse version of utterly misunderstanding the subject of the argument.

#horses #horsblr #vegan

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silvokrent · 4 years ago

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So since Tyrian's arrest screen didn't list everything he was wanted for, what else do you think he did? My brother thinks arson, I think more along the lines of torture.

It’d probably be easier to ask, “What crimes didn’t he commit?”

I think you’re both right. Arson and torture seem like equally valid possibilities, but they’d have to be the result of context and circumstance. On one hand, Tyrian always struck me as someone that’s adaptive, flexible, and capable of improvisation, which is why I doubt he’d be averse to either. On the other hand, Tyrian appears to have a modus operandi—speed and stealth. Like most Faunus, seeing in the dark (presumably with tapeta lucida, the eyeshine a lot of nocturnal and crepuscular animals have) affords him an advantage many of his victims lack. That, coupled with his stinger, sets him up by default for a very specific tactic: hit-and-run assassinations. Catch your target off-guard, deliver the killing blow, then melt back into the shadows before anyone’s the wiser. Fire lacks discretion, and torture involves prolonged interaction with the victim (which increases the odds of him getting caught, as time/duration would be proportionate to the risk of being discovered).

If a situation called for it (like setting a car on fire in order to distract pursuers), or he was contracted to complete a specific job (like torturing someone for information), then I could definitely see him committing arson and torture. But if he’s recreationally killing, then I think it’s more likely that he’d indulge in his preferred repertoire, envenomation and stabbing.

The nice thing about his criminal record being truncated (with a “see attachment for more details” appended to the file) with multiple redacted sections is that it leaves a lot of room for speculation. Bear in mind that much of this is either conjectural with little supporting evidence, or my personal headcanons.

One of the things that I found interesting about Tyrian’s character was his reverence of Salem. “Goddess” isn’t just an affectionate title or a term of endearment—he literally apotheosizes her. Compare that to how his teammates interact with her. While they treat her with respect, none of them use the same venerating language as Tyrian (“Your Grace,” “my lady,” “our divine savior,” “our goddess”). This tells us that his worship of her isn’t the norm amongst her followers, which also means that he has a reason for doing it.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of labelling people who commit heinous crimes as crazy or insane—not only because it implicates nonviolent mentally ill and neurodivergent people, and scapegoats them for the actions of others—but because in this instance, it robs Tyrian of the complexity that comes with rationalizing one’s choices. Tyrian’s decision to deify Salem shouldn’t stem from some sort of psychopathology, but rather a logical, personal, or historical precedent.

Let’s reverse-engineer this thought process:

Tyrian worships Salem.

Salem (in Tyrian’s eyes) is the extreme embodiment, manifestation, or expression of cathartic violence.

Tyrian worships this form of violence.

And what else in RWBY’s universe embodies those traits?

The Creatures of Grimm.

So, with that in mind, let’s talk about all the illegal things Tyrian’s done over the course of his life, and more specifically, why.

Archotherolatry: This is a term I coined for my RWBY worldbuilding blog. If you break down the etymology, archotherian (Greek - ruling beast, the scientific term for Grimm) + -latry (Late Latin - worship of), it translates to “the worship of Grimm.” The practice was outlawed by the King of Vale (King Ozark) after the Great War. While the decision was rooted in common sense—like, you really don’t want people to see the Grimm as gods for fairly obvious reasons—Ozark had ulterior motives for outlawing it. You see, Ozark was one of Ozma’s incarnations, and the immediate predecessor of Ozpin. While archotherolatry had been falling out of favor over the last few centuries, it was still a religion with a presence in certain corners of Remnant. Salem used to recruit these cultists directly into her ranks. By making the practice illegal, Ozma was hoping to cut off a potential source of followers.

Prior to meeting Salem, Tyrian was one of the surviving few practitioners of the faith. Not only that, but he had a particular mania about it. Grimm worship in Remnant changed depending on where in the world you went, but one of the recurring practices involved human sacrifice. Now, while Tyrian didn’t subscribe to any specific holy doctrine and wasn’t a member of any secret groups, he did adhere to certain rites and ceremonies. He savored the taking of lives, but even more than that, he enjoyed offering up his victims to the Grimm. During the months that Pickerel spent hunting him down, his trails would often lead him to secluded areas outside cities or towns. There he’d often find a large ornately-detailed circle on the ground painted with blood, with the tattered corpse of the victim lying in the center. The surrounding trees and rocks would sport eye-like patterns drawn in blood, similar to the patterns seen on the bony white protrusions on a Grimm’s body.

When selecting potential victims, Tyrian didn’t discriminate. Gender, age, nationality, race, economic background��they all bleed red, so it didn’t matter. Not technically, anyway. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy abducting business owners that were prejudiced against Faunus, or that he didn’t find ironic humor in sacrificing Huntsmen to the Grimm. He just wasn’t particularly choosy about who he sacrificed.

In a similar vein, I think this is how Salem first learned about Tyrian’s existence. Whenever her scouts or sentries returned to Evernight and reported in, they’d inform her about a man that would drag people into the woods and invite the Grimm to feast upon them. This possibility excited Salem for several reasons: not only was he predisposed to loyalty to her, but the fact that he’d clearly been doing these sacrifices for some time meant he was talented. It took a lot of skill to kill so many people without being caught by the authorities. She needed an assassin, and he would do perfectly.

When Tyrian wasn’t feeding people to the Grimm, he probably murdered for sport. He thrilled in the hunt, in the dizzying slick of blood beneath his fingers, the intoxicating coppery smell, the beautiful song of his victims as they cried, begged, and screamed. Acts of violence honor the Grimm, but in addition to that, he simply relished in the joy of killing. And he was good at it.

Of course, sacrificial manslaughter doesn’t pay the bills, so Tyrian had a day job. Well, I say “day job,” but it was more along the lines of contract killer/thief/kidnapper/smuggler. Tyrian operated largely out of Mistral’s criminal underworld, particularly in the capital (though depending on the work he was doing, he’d travel to Wind Path or Kuchinashi). Potential clients sought him out and hired him for any number of jobs: collect the debt that this person owes me and kill them if they refuse to pay; abduct the member of this rival syndicate and bring them to these coordinates; assassinate someone for me, and bring back proof that they’re dead; transport this contraband (weapons, drugs, Dust) and ensure the shipment arrives safely; kill these people and destroy the evidence; capture this person and extract information from them by whatever means necessary; follow this person without being detected, and collect information about their routine. Although Tyrian preferred jobs that involved bloodshed, he’d still accept contracts for more mundane work (even if he found it somewhat boring). Tyrian didn’t have a ton of dealbreakers in terms of jobs, though he refused to do anything that involved sexual assault. (Even serial killers have standards.)

Destruction of public and private property was likely an unintended or indirect consequence of his work. As much as Tyrian enjoyed wanton carnage, he prided himself on being stealthy and thus had to exercise some level of restraint, so as to not leave behind damning evidence in the form of collateral damage. Breaking a window or kicking in a door is a liability. Accidentally setting off a Dust explosion is a good way for the authorities to track you. That being said, there were a few memorable occasions where Tyrian absolutely wrecked shit up. Perhaps the most noteworthy of these was the day that he was finally captured by Atlesian and Mistrali law enforcement. On the day of his arrest, Tyrian caused nearly 50,000 lien’s worth of property damage, including the destruction of three Paladins.

Tyrian’s name, while spoken among the criminal element, was unknown to the public. Even so, he garnered a reputation as Anima’s most infamous serial killer. People often referred to him by his title: The Ghost in the Mist. (Years later, a documentary by the same name was released. It was an hour-long production that detailed his activity in Mistral, all of his victims, an analysis of his signature, and other relevant or interesting trivia. It even featured an interview with Pickerel, prior to his death. Tyrian absolutely loves this documentary and has re-watched it several times.)

I’m sure there’s more that he’s done that I can’t think of presently, but hopefully this gives you a general idea of all the criminal activity I think he’s committed.

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shelovescontrol91 · 3 years ago

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Everyone knows the story of Cinderella, whether you grew up with Walt Disney’s 1950 animated film, the Rodgers and Hammerstein television musical, or the European folktale. Still, adapting a beloved story for a new generation means connecting past and present. The cast and crew of 2021’s Cinderella was intent on innovation. The film, which is set to premiere on Amazon Prime on September 3rd, reimagines the story as an uplifting musical about the power of self-discovery.

Unlike her predecessors Camila Cabello’s “Ella” doesn’t aspire to life as a royal, instead she’s busy building a fashion empire. The heroine's shift from dreamer to proactive entrepreneur makes for a different kind of narrative, one the forces behind the project hope will inspire young girls. “It is a completely new telling of the story. I feel like other fairytales have values that are more antiquated and don’t reflect women accurately,” shared Cabello from Los Angeles. “In this Cinderella, she has dreams and ambitions, and she wants to save herself, not have a prince or anybody else save her.”

Given Ella’s goals, much of the modernization is expressed via wardrobe. For costume designer Ellen Mirojnick, telling Ella’s story meant starting from scratch. “With Cinderella you of course think of the blue dress, the glass slipper, etc. but that wasn’t how we were going to approach this story,” she says. “This is a brand new retelling so we wanted to put a twist on it and embrace a new point of view, [one] that promotes female empowerment and individuality.”

Adept at creating jaw dropping costumes for immersive fictional worlds—her costumes for Bridgerton, The Greatest Showman, and Maleficent: Mistress of Evil are characters unto themselves—Mirojnick looked to the soundtrack inspiration. “Everything becomes concrete once you read and listen to the music,”she says. “The songs have fairytale, romantic, and modern aspects and an [overarching] theme about breaking the glass ceiling.” Within Ella’s wardrobe those concepts translate into period looks that feature contemporary touches and pieces that highlight her uniqueness. Still, Mirojnick was careful not to foreshadow Ella’s princess transformation. “From the beginning [of the design process] we took into consideration that her clothes shouldn’t be too obvious,” says Mirojnick. “So you have her in neutral colors, natural fabrics, linens, but with modern touches like her belts.”

The character’s interest in design was key to understanding her motivations. “One of the things I realized is that you have a Cinderella who is [effectively] designing herself,” says Mirojnick. “Ella’s closet is at the center of our film. The costumes capture her spirit, how design empowers her, and how nothing will get her down. Camila, who is one of the most authentic and joyous spirits I’ve met in a long time, embodies this perfectly.” For Cabello, who describes her character’s look as innovative and daring, collaborating with Mirojnick throughout the design process was a dream. “I loved my work costumes! They were so comfortable, but still had Ella’s swag to them,” she says. “Ellen and her team were so passionate, full of joy for what they were doing. They were so in love with Ella and the values she represented. In a time where women’s self expression is so limited, she uses fashion to express herself. Even when she’s dressing for work she has accessories in her hair, and puts unique details in her corsets. I think it shows how much self expression and authenticity is important to her.”

Oscreen Ella, uses the tools at her disposal to create, but she’s still subject to the limitations of being a young, cash-strapped designer. “For the ball she is making her own gown, so we had to hone in on what she would create and what she might have difficulty making,” says Mirojnick. “That is until the Fab G comes along.”

Audiences know Disney’s ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’-singing, benevolent godmother, but Billy Porter’s Fab G is a completely different take on the magical mentor figure. Porter, with his outré style and endless swagger, needed more than a powder blue cape. So Mirojnick whipped up a gilded gown with reflective shades inspired by butterfly wings. “The Fab G was born from the monarch butterfly,” explains Mirojnick. “I presented a whole series of sketches to Billy. It was important to him that the costume represent both masculine and feminine elements. It all came together in a couple of conversations. I had to take into consideration movement and how the character would emerge onto the scene because it had to be fabulous.” Equally striking are the Fab G’s accessories which run the gamut from a glittery wand, custom Jimmy Choo boots, and a Mercedes Benz carriage that Porter dreamed up with the automaker. “It’s all remarkable,” says Mirojnick. “They truly went all out in creating the design.”

Of course, the ride isn’t as important as the destination. In this case, that would be the party thrown for Nicholas Galitzine’s Prince Robert, in order to find his bride. Ella arrives in a glittering ball gown whipped up by Fab G, but she isn’t the only contender. A host of princesses from across the kingdom show up to meet the royal family and try their luck. In other adaptations this plays out as a Bachelor style spectacle where young women compete against each other for a guy, but director Kay Cannon and Mirojnick wanted to avoid that cliche. “What was most important to us was that this world be global,” says Mirojnick. “Originally we planned on having designers from other countries each contribute a design, but [that] proved too difficult last year. So we went about it our own way with each princess representing their respective nation.” The change also allowed for cameos, like Japanese comedian Naomi Watanabe. “The ball is about bringing the community together,” says Mirojnick “They may be vying for attention but they also support each other.”

While the protagonist isn’t looking to become a princess, the story doesn’t break with tradition entirely. The clothes—which will be revealed to the world during the Mercedes Benz ‘Dressed for a Dream” livestreamed fashion showon August 28th—are the stuff of fantasy. During the show the costumes will be worn on the runway by individuals who embody the progressive messages of the film. Both Cabello and Mirojnick, who serve as Mercedes Benz brand ambassadors for the project, hope that viewers find the movie, fashion show, and subsequent campaign inspiring. “We’re going to have models walking the fashion show who have incredible success stories. They’re our everyday Ellas,” says Mirojnick. “It’s an honor to be able to partner with Mercedes on this [and] at this moment in time where we can celebrate female empowerment and amplify stories that show girls what they’re capable of.”

That sentiment was echoed by Cabello. “[The fashion show] is Ella’s dream come true! I think women seeing other women be strong, ambitious, and supporting each other is so important,” she says. “Helping each other realize our power and celebrating each other taking control of our lives is so important for young people to be watching, and for that to be the world they grow up in.”

#camila cabello #cinderella

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apparitionism · 5 years ago

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Hark

A merry early Gift Exchange to @kla1991, whose not-so-secret Santa I am this year. This is the first part of a story set somewhat in-universe: there’s no season 5 (what could that even be?), and only the first ep of season 4—basically, time wound back to right before the Warehouse exploded in Stand, which aired on Oct. 3, so the Christmas during which this story is set is happening less than three months after that momentous occurrence. I’m postulating that Helena became an agent again, and there was no Artie/Father Data business. (Oh, and Steve didn’t die, so no metronome. I refuse to force Helena through witnessing anyone being brought back non-nefariously from the dead.) I’ll do my best to post the concluding part(s) by New Year’s Day—no promises on that, but I’ll finish as soon as apparitionally possible. Anyway, happy holidays to everyone. Continuing to participate with you all in this wondrous exercise in fandom is a blessing in every tradition, and I’m profoundly grateful.

Hark

“Your upstart nation stole ‘God Save the Queen’!” Helena seethed at Myka.

For whom “upstart nation” was really too much. “Nobody owns that melody!” she fumed, reciprocally, at Helena. “You can’t steal something nobody owns, our version is perfectly valid, and anyway I’m pretty sure other countries stole it too. Look it up!”

“I’m not in other countries. You look it up.”

“I’m driving! Since when are you such a fan of the monarchy anyway?”

“Stop questioning my patriotism!”

“I couldn’t care less about your patriotism!”

“You brought up citizenship!”

“Because you don’t have any!” Myka had genuinely thought they would be having an intellectual conversation, one about documentation and—

“I did at birth!” Helena raged, and then she scowl-sang, “God save our gra-cious Queen.”

This gave Myka pause. She reflected that she had actually never heard Helena sing before. She then concluded that she never wanted to hear Helena sing again... because Helena could not sing.

However: “My country ’tis of thee,” Myka sang back, frustrated. It was the only reason she herself would ever have sung, because—

“You can’t sing,” Helena informed her, in the tone of a doctor trying to conceal joy at having to report that the patient would not recover.

“Neither can you,” Myka informed back, aiming for straightforward “snide.”

“And I never want to hear you sing again,” Helena continued.

All Myka could come up with in response to that was an inadequate “Ditto.”

Helena sniffed. “You just wanted the last word.”

Myka pointedly let Helena have that last word. To make her stew in it. In the ensuing silence, she continued to drive. On this last leg home from a retrieval, late on Christmas Eve—their very first Christmas Eve—the air between them was frostier than the South Dakota winter outside the car could ever dream of matching.

She was under no illusion that Helena cared at all about anybody saving the Queen, and she herself, while reasonably patriotic on the American side of things, hadn’t sung her way through that song since her childhood. She knew this dispute was ridiculous, and she suspected Helena knew it too. She suspected also that they both understood they were developing a pattern: A period of calm—a deepening of accord—that would sooner or later, particularly in the adrenalin-ebb aftermath of a dangerous retrieval, dissipate into some minimally motivated squabble, the respective sides of which they entrenched themselves into with such commitment that it seemed there could never be an unentrenching.

An early instance: Myka had threatened to storm out of their shared hotel room because Helena had mulishly refused to concede that it had been foolish to open a bottle of mini-bar water for which they would be charged five dollars.

“Go right ahead,” Helena had “suggested,” so Myka did.

In the lobby, she’d run into Pete, who wasn’t storming anywhere, just looking for free snacks. “See?” Myka demanded of him. “Like a normal person.”

“If you were normal, you wouldn’t be out here with me. ’Cause you’ve got a hot girl in a hotel room, and I know things got a little uh-oh chasing that guy today, but you’re both still in one piece.”

“Maybe not for long.”

“You volunteered for this.”

“No I didn’t. Artie said ‘Pete, Myka, Helena, get on a plane for Montgomery, Alabama,’ and so we—”

“You know that isn’t the ‘this’ I meant.”

Myka did. But she hadn’t volunteered for that “this” either. Nothing about her response to Helena was voluntary. Nothing about it had ever been voluntary.

“Fights and all,” Pete added. “After the thing”—he always called the barely averted explosion of the Warehouse “the thing,” and so did Claudia—“you could’ve let her leave. You could’ve made her leave. She would have done anything you said.”

“Not anything,” Myka said, to be contrary.

“Maybe you don’t remember how she’d hardly even sit in a chair without your say-so. Oh, but wait, I think I know somebody who remembers everything, some tall lady with a lot of hair, name rhymes with Opelika... hey, that’s you!”

“Shut up. It wasn’t... that simple.”

“It is now.”

She crossed her arms at him.

He sighed. “Lemme show you: ‘Sorry, baby,’” he said in his “Myka” voice, which was terrible. “Me too, darling,” he then said in his “Helena” voice, which was even worse. As himself, he finished, “It’s like you’ve never been in a relationship.”

In a conversation in which Pete had said several annoyingly true things, that one was the most annoyingly true. But: “It’s like,” she conceded, and he slapped the side of her head, very gently.

“Hot girl hotel room,” he said.

When Myka went back to that hotel room, the hot girl said, “I’m sorry,” as if she’d received the same instructions from Pete. “I was precipitately thirsty.”

“I’m sorry too,” Myka told her. “I was precipitately miserly.”

Myka kissed the hot girl, the hot girl kissed back, and they fumbled their way to fine.

Until the next trivial-yet-entrenched tiff... because apparently, peace was for normal people.

Normal people. When Myka and Helena finally made it back to the B&B, Leena, Claudia, and Steve were doing reasonably convincing “normal” impressions: drinking hot chocolate, eating cookies, and playing board games. They seemed to be playing all the board games; Leena was replacing the lid on Monopoly, which she set aside, reaching for the next box in a towering stack. “Chef’s-kiss timing,” Claudia told them. “I just bankrupted these two pathetic poser slumlords, and we’re about to start Sorry. It’s funner with four, so siddown, and you two can be a team.”

“Or not,” Myka said, glancing at Helena, who glanced back and gave a definitely not yet inhale-exhale. “Why isn’t Pete playing?”

“We’re supposed to tell you it’s because he’s doing some last-minute Christmas shopping,” Steve said.

Myka was about to ask, “This late at night?” but Claudia supplied, “Except it’s really that he goofed off today and didn’t finish inventory and thought he’d get away with it but then Artie called and yelled at him.”

“And you left him alone to keep working on it? It’s the night before Christmas, and—”

Claudia waved her hands. “And all through the Warehouse, not a creature was stirring, I swear.”

“Besides,” Leena added, “he’s a grown man.”

“Who always ruins Christmas!” said Myka.

“Always almost ruins Christmas,” Claudia corrected.

Myka demanded, “Is there anything about me that says ‘I like a close call’?”

All eyes turned to Helena, then back to Myka.

Of course Helena had been part of the closest of calls, and Myka hadn’t liked it at all: nothing but the outcome. The Warehouse, the saving of it, yes, the thing—but the real outcome had been the aftermath at the B&B.

That outcome was real, but it was also a dream, one that Myka had dreamed more often than she would ever have confessed to pondering in her heart, this dream of being alone with a present Helena, no disastrous endpoint looming. The dream-logic of it: I can touch her? And Myka put a hand to Helena’s elbow. Reached and did that. Helena looked at the hand, the elbow. She looked in Myka’s eyes then and said, “Don’t spare my feelings.”

Feelings? Are you really you in your skin, Myka wanted to ask. Is this your elbow. Instead, because she needed to know, she murmured, “What do you want.”

Helena didn’t say words, but she made a noise that evolution had found fit to preserve from a deep, animal past, a guttural push of sound through the throat-column: it told Myka everything. Told Myka: “Everything.”

No speaking then but by bodies, a language of desperation and culmination. Helena had a mouth that could be met by Myka’s own, clothes that could be removed to reveal a palpable body, with every response of that body real under Myka’s hands. Myka held her eyes closed for much of that night, lest sight confuse her about presence and its proof, lest she fail to attend to what her eyes could never offer: The fleshy heaviness of a tongue in response to her own. The soft give of a thigh interior under her insistent thumb. The steady pressure of a body that pushed back. No empty air, no absence; only presence.

No question marks intruded on their immediate intimacy, their immeasurable, embodied relief. Two days prior, Helena had been a sacrificeable hologram, but all at once she was Myka’s living, breathing, at-last lover. All destined... like meeting at gunpoint.

That night precipitated a fast fall into full couplehood, with seemingly little conscious choice on either of their parts. As inevitable as the gunpoint meetings, the wrenching betrayals, even the miraculous redemption.

But nothing good can possibly be so simple, Myka told herself. Or so inevitable.

“Is that what you believe?” Myka imagined Helena asking this, Socratically. She’d had so many internal conversations with Helena that she found the habit—probably a bad one—difficult to break.

“I’m tired of belief,” Myka told her beautiful, imaginary Socrates. “Sometimes I want to go back to my regular non-Warehouse life, where belief didn’t matter.”

Helena said, still in Myka’s head, still Socratic, “Or did you merely act as if it didn’t matter? Artifacts were born. Religions carried on as they do. Your ignoring belief had no effect on any of it.”

“My not ignoring it has no effect on any of it.”

“So you yourself, regardless of attitude adopted, cannot affect belief.” Socrates paused. Smiled. “Or that which is inevitable.”

Myka did, in such moments, briefly wonder why she needed the real Helena around, if the one in her head was such a reasonable facsimile. A hologram could have done that job just as well.

But the answers, the “here’s why,” came fast and thick, and Myka rejoiced that they could. The real Helena could make Myka laugh an easy laugh, because circumstances were not as they had been with that hologram, when laughter was an impossibility. The real Helena could touch Myka’s neck—not wonderingly, as Myka had known that elbow—but instead quick and hot, in that way that said “we have been intimate recently and will soon again be.” The real Helena could fall asleep and in relaxation display a face so devastating in its symmetry that Myka was inclined to regret not being Michelangelo, so as to recreate it in appropriately tributary marble.

Strange, though, or probably just ridiculous, to feel that your romantic relationship had made more sense when one of you was a hologram.

Myka should have expected Christmas, also a fraught inevitability, to loom as an existential test—yet another existential test—of that relationship.

She should have expected also that when this new existential test was administered, Pete would be the one helping to shove answer sheets and no. 2 pencils into their hands.

“Might be a close call or two in Sorry. Sorry!” Claudia cackled. “Anyway, go put your stuff away so we can get our Sorry on. Also our merry. We might even sing.”

“Or not,” Myka said again, and this time she got an eyeroll in response rather than meaningful breathing. An improvement? Hard to tell.

“Nobody’s required to sing anyth—” Leena began, but then she sat up very straight and cocked her head. “Do you hear that sound? Or I guess I mean, do you feel that sound? It’s not singing.”

Helena moved her head too, and not in a way Myka recognized. “I do feel that sound. In fact I believe I know that sound.”

“I do too,” Leena said.

Steve squinted. “Feels like... a weird earthquake? Is it happening all over Univille?”

Claudia said, “This is the kind of thing they blame on us even when it isn’t us. It’s why they look at us weird at the supermarket.”

“I can’t feel anything,” Myka said. “What is it?” She looked first to Helena, who was shaking her head—not at Myka, not with anger, but as if she might be able to find the right shake to rid her ears of the sound, or the feeling, or whatever it was.

“Agitated artifacts,” Leena said, performing a very similar shake. “They... rumble.”

“Agitated artifacts,” Myka repeated. “Pete’s alone at the Warehouse, it’s Christmas, and artifacts are agitated. Okay.”

Naturally, Pete chose that moment to march in, proclaiming, “I hope everybody’s ready to apologize to me.”

Steve asked, “Why should we apologize?” Now he was shaking his head too.

“Because everybody always says I ruin Christmas.”

Helena said, “As I understand the situation, the salient fact is not that they say you ruin Christmas. The salient fact is that you do ruin Christmas.”

“Almost,” Claudia corrected again. She canted her head, righted it. Canted it again.

“But this time I saved it.”

“By agitating artifacts?” Myka said, but of course he would think that. Probably encouraged them to have a party...

“More so by the minute, from the sound of things,” Leena told him.

“What? No! That isn’t what I did!”

“The artifacts are telling a different story,” Helena noted.

Claudia offered, “It’s more that they’re humming it real low. Like some geologic event that worked its way into a Björk track. Or vice versa.”

Myka—very calmly, she believed, under the circumstances—said, “What. Did. You. Touch.”

“Nothing, Mom,” he said, and his tone caused Myka to spare some sympathy for Jane Lattimer. He then said, as if it were some magnanimous confession, “Okay. Fine. I did, but I gloved up.”

“What did you touch after you gloved up?” Leena asked. “And why?”

“It was like it tapped me on the shoulder...” he began.

Still canting her head, Claudia muttered, “Sallah flashback, Sallah flashback...”

“And said ‘hey big guy’...”

Steve said, “This is already a longer story than I feel like it should be.”

“And told me it had to go the Christmas aisle...”

Myka had had enough. “If you don’t spit it out right now, I personally will Heimlich it out of you. Joyfully. WHAT had to go to the Christmas aisle?”

He turned to her and gave a palms-up shrug. “You know I don’t know anything about classical music.”

She reached to the table for the nearest board game, to throw it at him, but Helena preempted that move by saying, “Judging from Myka’s face, now is not the time for non sequiturs.”

She probably couldn’t have done much damage with a travel-size Aggravation anyway, but travel and aggravation made her think, in Helena’s direction, Oh, now you can read my face. An hour ago in the car, not so much. Then she sighed internally. Or maybe, an hour ago in the car, too well.

Pete was continuing, “But the Messiah had strong feelings.”

“Oh no,” Leena said, and Myka knew that Leena saying “oh no” in that particular way meant she knew something, and the something she knew wasn’t good, but Pete kept on, still enthusiastically proud of himself: “So I gloved up, took it where it wanted to be, and then came home. Because it isn’t Christmas till I’ve won the Trivial Pursuit Star Wars Classic Trilogy Collectors’ Edition!”

“Do I seriously have to remind you I’m the reigning champ?” Claudia demanded. “What you’re saying is, it’s never gonna be Christmas.”

“Not for a while yet,” Leena said, “because we’re going back to the Warehouse. Because I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening.”

“Why do I have to go if I can’t hear whatever it is?” Pete whined.

Myka told him, “I can’t hear it either, and it’s your fault.”

“Your ears are your own problem.”

“I might Heimlich you just for the fun of it.”

Steve said, with concern, “I’ve heard that ribs tend to break.”

Myka nodded. “Exactly.”

“Santa would not approve of that attitude, young lady,” Pete chided.

“All I do is lug around stockings full of coal,” she said. “Do your worst, Santa.”

She made the mistake of glancing at Helena, whose face betrayed a responsive ripple of disquiet. Exactly the wrong sentiment for ending a fight, even a foolish one, Myka realized: imply that nothing you carry with you is what you want. “I didn’t mean...” she began, but Claudia was demanding of Leena, “How do you know what’s happening? And what is happening?”

“He put the Messiah sheet music in the Christmas aisle,” Leena said, with what Myka considered enviable patience.

“You say that like it means something!”

“It does mean something,” Leena said. “You’ll see. More importantly, you’ll hear.”

At the Warehouse, when they reached the floor, they were greeted by... “Curtains?” Steve tried, because that was what they were. Tall, cream-colored damask curtains with a green floral pattern. Freestanding, blocking their path. Insistently blocking their path.

“For all of us!” Pete tried back. “Dun-dun-DUN!”

“No...” Leena said. She regarded the curtains. “I know who you are,” she said, and Myka found herself unsurprised to see the curtains rustle at that, as if in appreciation. Leena then said, “And now I know exactly what’s happening.”

“A play is beginning?” Helena suggested.

“Not quite, but you’re in the neighborhood. Surely somebody other than me knows who these curtains are really for.”

Pete leaned close to the curtains, then jumped back like they’d bit him. “Oh my god. Now that I look close—the von Trapp kids!”

“Good boy,” Leena said.

“I thought we were calling him a grown man,” groused Myka.

“Leena is providing positive reinforcement,” Helena said. Pedantic, as if Myka had never heard of such a thing.

“I know she’s providing—” But she shut herself up, sighed in frustration instead.

Leena made sure everyone was wearing gloves, then said, “Claudia, keep your goo gun in your pocket; we might find more of them taking their frustrations for a walk.”

“So do we just put things back where they belong?” Steve asked. “And they calm down and the rumble-chatter stops?”

“Any that got themselves where they aren’t supposed to be, we take them back. But here’s what else we have to do.” She paused. “Sing.”

“No,” Myka said, and “no,” she repeated. She chanced a glance at Helena, but she had closed her eyes and seemed to be pre-massaging a headache out of her temples.

Leena appeared not to have heard Myka, for she went on, “We’ll deal with the curtains first. Next, the Messiah goes back where it’s supposed to be—because that’s what started it all. After that, I think Claudia should tell us what we need to do.”

“Oh god,” Claudia said, sounding just about as dread-filled as Myka felt. “This is Caretaker practice, isn’t it?”

“What if it is?” Leena asked.

“Ugh. Thanks, Pete.”

He said, “Maybe it tapped my shoulder because it thought you needed Caretaker practice.”

Myka snorted. “Maybe it tapped your shoulder because it could tell you’re an easy mark.”

“Hey!” he protested.

“Particularly at Christmas.”

“Hey!”

Leena said, “I think the Messiah might have sensed you’d be an easy mark... mostly because you want to make everybody happy. Particularly at Christmas.”

“See? Leena understands,” he taunted Myka.

Myka once again considered the Heimlich.

They escorted the curtains back to the musicals section, passing by Ginger Rogers’s dancing shoes, and Myka was unnervingly tempted to put them on and bleed her way backwards and in high heels out of the entire situation as Leena explained, “People repurpose ‘My Favorite Things’ as a Christmas song. The curtains find that... troubling.”

Pete scratched his head. “I guess I don’t really get that. Isn’t it kinda great?”

“Wait,” Claudia said, “and this might not even be practice: I think I do get it. How they feel. So let’s say you’re you.”

“I’m me,” he said. “Gotcha. Awesome. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Exactly. But what if some holiday thingy came along and made like it was changing you into something else? They’re afraid we’ll put ’em in the Christmas aisle, and they don’t want to be there. Unlike the Messiah, I guess. Am I wrong, Leena?”

“You’re not wrong,” Leena told her, smiling.

“I feel that too,” Steve agreed. “They’re... afraid? Afraid it’ll diminish them. They’ll be about Christmas and that’s all. That’s why they’re so agitated.”

And so the curtains were serenaded with words about raindrops, kittens, kettles, mittens, and all the rest.

“Are they happier now?” Pete asked. “Do they not feel so bad?”

Leena, Claudia, Steve, and Helena all nodded, if not entirely vigorously. Helena said, “Marginally happier. Not knowing the song, I of course couldn’t participate. I hope they aren’t offended.”

But she hadn’t seemed apologetic at all while the singing took place. In fact she’d smirked. So Myka murmured, “Thrilled, more likely.”

Helena pretended to ignore her but also bared her teeth, minimally, in Myka’s direction, as she said, “Popular culture, alas, remains a largely undiscovered country.”

“It’s just one song,” Claudia said. “You’re getting your head around more stuff all the time! Take the Muppets.”

“Last week’s Christmas special,” Helena said, and Claudia nodded. Myka knew they’d been going one per week, because that was as much as Helena could take, whereas Claudia would have set up a holly-jolly IV drip if she could. Helena continued, “The one you called a ‘crash course’ in several shows’ worth of puppets?”

Claudia nodded again, even more enthusiastically. “Muppet Family Christmas! And now you’re up to speed, so for example when I say ‘Oscar,’ you say...”

“I still fail to understand how the large bird, which seems more accurately a costume than a puppet, qualifies.”

“The answer we were looking for was ‘the Grouch,’ so maybe we’re not quite as far along as I thought. I’m not going to bother with when I say ‘Fraggle,’ you say.”

“Consumer of the structures built by the devoted little workers who wear hats.”

“Aaaand that’s why not. Although your essay answer isn’t wrong.”

“Thank you,” Helena said, performing her funny little bow that struck Myka anew, each time she saw it, as a Victorian tell.

In fact, Myka had come home from the Warehouse just as that “crash course” was ending: Helena, as always after such a lesson, looked bemused but relieved, while Claudia was fidgeting with post-lecture satisfaction and, most likely, disappointment that she’d have to wait an entire week till the next one. Myka had asked, “Why does Helena need to know about the Muppets?”

Claudia responded with a puzzled, “Why doesn’t she?”

“Bert, Ernie, and the distinctions therebetween,” Helena said to Myka. “Would that I were you and could retain it all.” She smiled a small “but here we are” smile, and Myka leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed that smile. Because she wanted to; because she could. The smile then widened, and Myka tried not to make the mistake of wondering why every moment wasn’t like this one.

“You two can be pretty soft when you want to be,” Claudia remarked.

Myka had thought, No, we’re not this way when we want to be. It was when they weren’t actively wanting it—or needing it—that this ease stole upon them. But here it was... so Myka kissed Helena again, then asked, “What’s for dinner?”

The asking of that question, in the softness of that moment, had seemed an ideal step forward, one not about destiny or fraught inevitability, but balance and consistency. And then Myka did make the mistake: Why couldn’t every moment be like that? What was it that disturbed all the other moments?

Now, as they all headed for the Christmas aisle, Pete pulled on Myka’s arm and held her back a bit from the rest. “You mouthed the words,” he accused, very quietly.

“So what if I did? You know I can’t sing.”

“Maybe it makes a difference. H.G. said the drapes were only marginally better.”

“She didn’t sing either, by the way,” Myka pointed out.

Apparently her feelings about that were clear, for Pete said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I meant you and H.G. Incidentally, you walk a little bit like Big Bird.”

“We’re fine. Incidentally, if you got a chicken bone stuck in your throat I wouldn’t be at all upset about what could happen while I was saving your stupid life.”

“I sort of feel like if she choked on a chicken bone, right now, you wouldn’t want to let anybody else do the rib-breaking.”

Myka almost said a dark “you bet I wouldn’t,” but then she realized: “I think that’s always going to be true.”

Pete nodded. “Kiss her, kill her. I get it.”

Unless he was talking about vibes, he didn’t get it, not fully—Myka herself didn’t get it fully, and in everybody’s defense there was a lot to be got—but it was Christmas-sweet that he got as much as he did. She said a mollified, “Look, just don’t make me sing, okay?” Because if there was anything Myka was sure she and Helena definitely did not need right now, it was a replay of “you can’t sing” and “neither can you.”

“No promises, partner. When Leena says ‘jump’ I say ‘my knees are shot.’ You, on the other hand, when she says ‘sing’? Better say ‘how high.’”

“This is kind of a ‘my knees are shot’ situation,” Myka observed.

“What’s the matter with your knees?”

“Never mind.”

And then they reached the Christmas aisle. About which Myka felt, and felt she had a right to feel, a certain amount of post-traumatic stress.

“If you touch anything,” she told Pete, “I will turn your ribs into chicken bones.”

“That makes no sense.”

“And yet you understand me perfectly.”

He took a step away from her. “In a very mobbed-up way, yes I do.”

Helena, Claudia, Leena, and Steve had ringed themselves around a shelf, and Myka peeked over Helena’s shoulder. Only in the Warehouse, she figured, could a piece of music manage to project the idea that it was pleased with itself.

“It’s gloating at me,” Pete complained.

“It did make you do what it wanted,” Steve pointed out.

Claudia said, “It’s like it knew we’d show up right at this moment.”

“I’m pretty sure it did,” Leena said.

Myka, still at Helena’s shoulder, felt a tension in the body that was not quite touching hers. She felt a tension, too, in words that were not quite meant for her to hear as Helena murmured at the music, “What else do you know...”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #B&W Holiday Gift Exchange #kla1991 #Hark #second part coming sooner rather than later #(I hope so anyway)

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kabane52 · 4 years ago

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Descent into Sheol and the Church’s Mission

In Ephesians 4, St. Paul tells us that Jesus descended below all things in order that He might ascend above all things. The grave, or Sheol, is the place where man is cut off from the world for whose sake he was made. This is the essence of death: division. When Adam goes into a deep sleep, he is divided into two parts so that he might be joined back together in a new and more glorious form. We read in Genesis 15 that Abram went into that same deep sleep after dividing his sacrificial animals in two. The Holy Spirit as Fire passes between the divided animals, thus joining them back together in glory. This is the telos of the Creation: for all things to be split and reunified in a mature and glorious form. Consequently on the second day God makes a firmament, veiling His own Heavenly Throne from our world. Yet He does not bless it as “good.” Why? Because goodness signifies a thing in its permanent, fully realized state.

A thing’s goodness is measured according to its degree of correspondence with its principle of being. God veils the world with the heavenly sea in order that it might ultimately be removed such that God is “all in all.” This is symbolized in the story of the flood where Noah places a “covering” over the ark which is a miniature cosmos. At the end of the flood we are told that Noah “removed” the covering. And in Revelation 20 we are told that after the era of the Church when God brings the Final Judgment and resurrection of the dead, there is “no more sea.” In context, this is the heavenly sea of Revelation 4-5 and Revelation 14. It is the place where the “dead in Christ” exist in the first resurrection. This is why we are told that the sea gave up its dead as the grave gave up its dead. Those who exist in the first resurrection are, in a real way, not members of the grave.

This is the significance of the doctrine of the Communion of Saints. Man was made to be the instrument through which God is joined with the World. He is the generations of the Heavens and the Earth (Genesis 2:4) so that the heavenly glory will be joined with the earthly through his work. Even before the fall man was to develop and mature into glory. And just as during the six days of creation evening preceded morning, so also in the spiritual development of mankind he would endure a kind of death-and-resurrection. The death he underwent would not be the violent rupture familiar to us. Instead, it would be a division and reunification proper to his existence and without a separation from the ongoing life in the world. Consider the reaction of the Prophet Samuel when he is brought up by Saul from the grave as a ghost. Samuel is quite evidently not involved in the implementation of God’s Kingdom in the world. He is in Sheol- separated from the world and cut off from its ongoing life. In order for the cosmos to attain its glorious state through the human family, this manner of being must be overcome. It is overcome in the work of Jesus the Messiah. As the embodiment of the God of Israel, He joins the creation to God in every human heartbeat, assimilating all created essences into His mind and perfectly offering them to His Heavenly Father in love for all mankind. In sharing in an aspect of human life, He sanctifies that aspect of life and facilitates its being an instrument of sanctification and union with God.

This is the significance of His descent into the Grave. In descending into the grave where all mankind prior to His coming dwelt, He built a ladder downwards from the World to the place severed from the world. In resurrecting from the grave and ascending into the Heavenly Palace of God, the ladder built downwards was built upwards. Revelation 14 tells us that “those who die in the Lord” are “blessed” from “now on.” This fulfills the words of Jesus in the Gospel of John: “I go to prepare a place for you so that where I am, you may be also.” In Revelation 20 the “first resurrection” is the fulfillment of this divine promise. Those who have “died in the Lord” in fact “never die” precisely because their death constitutes not a severance from the life of the world, but an exaltation and a new role in perpetuating the plan of Heaven in the life of the world. The word “resurrection” is rooted in the notion of an “upwards” motion. Since the “second death” is the bodily resurrection of the unrighteous, the “first resurrection” is the bodily death of the righteous. The saints of the old covenant in Revelation 6 are “under the altar” which according to the symbolic geography of the temple, is the moat around and under the world- Sheol. An altar is a miniature holy mountain and in Revelation 14 we meet them “on Mount Zion” sharing in the Heavenly Liturgy. Thus, the Saints are not cut off from the governance and glorification of our world. This is why the tradition so insistently declares our ongoing engagement with them in a profoundly real sense. The Saints and Angels are intimately present with us in the Divine Liturgy because the Divine Liturgy is our sharing in the Heavenly Liturgy, our entrance into the Heavenly Court of God from which the world is governed and sanctified.

We are told by the Apostle Peter that when the Lord descended into the grave, He proclaimed to the “spirits in prison” their defeat (these are fallen angels) and also preached the gospel to those in the grave in 1 Peter 4:6 so that they might have “life in the Spirit” even though dead “in the flesh.” Thus there is a Ladder going all the way up and all the way down. The Church liturgically ascends the Ladder to Heaven in each Divine Liturgy and through that Liturgy in her entire life. I would argue that the Church also has a divine calling to pray and make intercession for all the dead without exception so that they might be gathered unto God. This is a profound mystery. Yet it is present in the tradition. According to tradition the Emperor Trajan was redeemed unto God through the intercessions of Pope St. Gregory the Great. St. Seraphim of Sarov speaks of the difficulty, spiritually, of buying back the soul from hell (meaning Hades in the present condition) but goes on to explain how it is carried out through the prayers of the Church. We see in the Book of Revelation how the dead of the old covenant are brought into the Presence of God through the liturgical activity of the Church. As in the Day of Atonement, blood is sprinkled on the world to make purification for it. In Revelation, the martyrs are harvested as Bread and Wine and sprinkled on the world. The offering of the Holy Eucharist is a consecration of the Church as Body of Christ to God our Father. This is why we commemorate specific names of those living and dead as we proceed in the Great Entrance to the Altar. God remembers the cosmos in the Incarnate Mind of God- Jesus Christ. We participate in this remembrance for the cosmos in the liturgical work of the Eucharist. We serve as instruments for the unification of God and World by making intercession for living and dead in the Eucharist.

God is rich in mercy. I am not a universalist. But the grace of God is profound and deep and He saves every person for whom there is the slightest basis for salvation. Let us recall that the Emperor Trajan was born after the coming of Jesus Christ and indeed authorized persecution of Christians in his letter to Pliny in addition to his ongoing sponsorship of idolatry. Yet in him was enough movements of goodness (desiring with sincerity wisdom, caring for the Empire, and so on) that there was basis for God to sanctify these good things and redeem them into His presence through the Church’s offering of Jesus Christ. The Church is the instrument of the gathering up of all things into the life of God. It joins Heaven to Earth and baptizes all nations into His Kingdom. And we know through His mercy that there will be no human creature excluded by sheer happenstance or chance from the World to Come. Consider that angels entered into Sodom and physically dragged Lot out of the city. And what was his righteousness? It was that he refused to allow his guests to be raped- attempting to offer his daughter as a consolation prize. Hardly the picture of sanctity, yet God redeemed him through the slightest trace of goodness. Let us never forget to pray for the dead so that the Church may further carry out her divine mission to gather all things into the presence and glory of God. The only ones who will be damned will be those who insistently choose it.

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nadziejastar · 6 years ago

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What was Lea’s personality during BBS and after? Up to Kh3? (U probably did this, but I love your analysis on Kh Isa and Lea)

Lea/Axel: The Alchemical Trickster

“The brighter the light, the darker the shadow.” – Carl Jung

Thank you! It is rather fun to write about Lea and Isa. ^_^

Well, actually I haven’t done a full write-up of Lea’s personality, though that was one of the many ideas I’ve had stirring around in my head. So, I’m glad you asked the question. More than anything I think Lea/Axel embodies the Trickster Archetype, which is an example of a Jungian Archetype. I picked up a very strong Jungian influence in the KH series. Jung’s famous quote on the shadow side of the human psyche is very similar to what The Fairy Godmother told Aqua in Birth By Sleep.

Carl Jung, The Trickster Archetype

A primitive cosmic being of divine-animal nature, on the one hand superior to man because of his superhuman qualities, and on the other hand inferior to him because of his unreason and unconsciousness. The more civilized we become, the more we will blame a “shadow” for our misfortunes. Like the trickster of old, the shadow represents a quality that isn’t accepted into the awareness. It can ‘pester’ us unmercifully but always has a gift for us, a missing quality, an attitude needed to cope, or self-realization.

Carl Jung’s explanation for the archetypes that surface in cultural and religious literature is that they are the product of what he calls the collective unconsciousness. That thread of consciousness that connects all human beings and cultures around the world. Jung would say The Trickster is a manifestation of our own collective unconscious.

In mythology, and in the study of folklore and religion, a trickster is a character in a story (god, goddess, spirit, human, or anthropomorphisation), which exhibits a great degree of intellect or secret knowledge, and uses it to play tricks or otherwise disobey normal rules and conventional behavior.The Trickster is an alchemist, a magician, creating realities in the duality of time and illusion. The Fool survives in modern playing cards as the Joker.

The Trickster is an important archetype in the history of man. He is a god, yet he is not. He is the wise-fool. It is he who points out the flaws in carefully constructed societies of man. He rebels against authority, pokes fun at the overly serious, creates convoluted schemes, that may or may not work, plays with the Laws of the Universe and is sometimes his own worst enemy. He exists to question, and to cause us to question and not accept things blindly. He appears when a way of thinking becomes outmoded, needs to be torn down, and built anew. He is the Destroyer of Worlds, and at the same time, the savior of us all.

In later folklore, the Trickster/Clown is incarnated as a clever, mischievous man or creature, who tries to survive the dangers and challenges of the world using trickery and deceit as a defense. He also is known for entertaining people as a clown does. The Trickster seems to be a comedy of opposites. For every good aspect of his persona there is an equal and opposite aspect. In religious stories his role is very diverse. He is the breaker of taboos. He provides comic relief to a religious myth. And he will pull off elaborate schemes to teach a moral lesson or expose the folly of men.

Tricksters “…violate principles of social and natural order, playfully disrupting normal life and then re-establishing it on a new basis.” The trickster crosses and often breaks both physical and societal rules. That’s why I think Axel’s weapons are based on the Sigil of Chaos. The weapon on the right, Dive Bomb is a combination of the Chaos Sigil and an alchemical vector, representing the union of Mercury and Sulfur, Sol and Luna, The Red King and White Queen of alchemy. Or the King and Queen of the Night, as Saïx’s weapons are so aptly named. I have absolutely no doubt that Lea was gonna “Dive Bomb” right into his boyfriend’s heart and wake his sleeping ass up.

Kairi: “Aren’t you…a bad guy?”

Axel: “I’m not. But not really a good guy, either.”

The Trickster behaves as he does from impulses over which he has no control, possessing no values, moral or social; he is at the mercy of his passions and appetites. The others in Trickster stories possess similar traits: the animals, the various supernatural beings and monsters, and man.

Often, the bending/breaking of rules takes the form of tricks or thievery. Tricksters can be cunning or foolish or both. The trickster openly questions and mocks authority. They are usually male characters, and are fond of breaking rules, boasting, and playing tricks on both humans and gods.

According to Jung, through the Trickster we can see that “individuals have the power to recognize their shadows and in doing so, choose the better part.” It is in the Trickster these combinations of qualities are recognized as being in the world, and from the Trickster we learn existential lessons as to the consequences of letting our darker side rule our lives.

There is another side to the Trickster. As the giver of all great boons—the fire-bringer, teacher of mankind—it is common for the Trickster to be a creator figure who created the earth and brings culture and civilization to humans. Among the Classical Greeks, Prometheus as creator brought into being all of the world’s animals. For this he was badly punished by Zeus. One of Axel’s weapons is named Prometheus.

Day 299: The Value of a Lie

Roxas doesn’t trust me after the whole Xion incident, but I can’t tell him the truth yet. So I keep lying. It’s no big deal when you’re a Nobody. There’s no guilt, no feeling at all. So why does it still sting, just a little, when I lie to him? All my dealings with Roxas give me this bizarre illusion of humanity.

The Trickster of Greek mythology was a god by the name of Hermes. He is the Magician Arcana in the Alchemical Tarot.He is also the patron of thieves and the inventor of lying. Once again we see a sort of bridge between the average man and the gods. Hermes is the only god in Greek mythology that is born to a nymph (a mortal). Also with Hermes we see the recurring theme of flight. Hermes is said to have wings on either side of his head. It makes the scene where Axel flies in Neverland that much more enjoyable.

Physical reality is a game in which the Trickster challenges us at every turn. That is his role in the duality of this bio-genetic experiment in linear time. The Trickster is a teacher, survivor, and hero—always traveling, outrageous and cunning, foolish and wise, mischievous and often doing good despite himself. He is a metaphor for the evolution of consciousness in the alchemy of time.

In modern literature the Trickster survives as a character archetype, not necessarily supernatural or divine, therefore better described as a stock character. The Trickster seems to have supernatural powers which help him perform his tricks. He lives, dies, comes back, shape shifts, all sorts of magic as our reality is nothing more than an illusion. It is the mythology of our reality, birth, death, and rebirth from the ashes, the flame of creation.

The Trickster is almost always portrayed as male. In the duality he represents the lower emotions, lower chakras, that which gets us into mischief. This represents the aggressive side that deals with the lower frequency emotions: jealousy, anger, self destruction, rage, depression, even mental illness. The Trickster is the emotional body, our Inner Child or wounded soul, who evolves in our lifetimes as it spirals back to higher light.

Frequently the Trickster figure exhibits gender variability, changing gender roles and engaging in same-sex practices. Such figures appear in Native American and First Nations mythologies, where they are said to have a Two-Spirit nature. Even Artemis (one of Saïx’s weapons named after a goddess) was said to engage in cross-dressing. So it makes TOTAL sense to me that Lea and Isa were intended by the writers to be, yes, a romantic pairing.

Carl Jung was also a well-known proponent of alchemy. According to a manuscript in Jung’s collection published in his book Psychology and Alchemy, the Emperor and Empress of the Tarot deck represent the Red King and White Queen at the beginning of the great work, known as magnum opus.

The Empress and Emperor are put at the end of the Alchemical Tarot sequence, symbolizing the end product of their marriage: The Philosopher’s Stone. Like Jung’s Alchemical Tarot deck, Luxord’s deck ALSO ends its sequence with the Emperor and Empress cards. It’s for this reason I think that Luxord’s deck actually tells a story using the Alchemical Tarot as its foundation— Lea and Isa’s story as the alchemical Red King and White Queen, to be precise. It tells their love story SO perfectly. But that is a meta that I’m still working on.

Like Saïx/Isa, I also believe that Lea/Axel was inspired by the Zodiac signs, particualy the Fire Triad. Aries lives in the moment and moves fast and furiously. They’re natural-born leaders, and impossible to ignore. They are always ready to take charge and conquer whatever challenge they meet. Courageous and competitive, Aries is a powerful force, carving paths through new territory to find undiscovered treasures. This fearless sign lives life as a warrior, infusing everything it touches with fire, passion, and strength.

Aries’ Tarot Card: In Tarot, The Emperor card is a masterful representation of the zodiac sign Aries. The Emperor is a natural leader, just like Aries. The Emperor represents Aries’ loyalty and ability to stick by others through thick and thin. Like the royal figure on this card, Aries uses its sense of authority to help others, and to achieve its own goals.

Aries’ Symbol: The Ram represents courage, action, initiative, and authority. These traits are the backbone of Aries’ characteristics, and help Aries take every part of life head-on.

Aries’ Ruling Planet: Aries is ruled by Mars – the Red Planet, or the warrior planet. These two have been linked since ancient times, as Mars is the Roman God of War, and Ares is the Greek God of War. Mars is a planet of great action, aggression, and drive, influencing what we do, and how we do it, and enhancing the active energy of Aries. Mars is considered a pioneer of new territory, just like the Aries Ram. Among the 12 Zodiac signs, there is one specific sign in which a planet functions at its optimum. This is called its sign of “Exaltation.” The Sun is exalted in Aries.

Aries’ Ruling House: As the first sign of the zodiac, Aries rules the 1st House of Self. The 1st house is a representation of your overall self – the personality and traits that make you uniquely you. Aries’ connection to the 1st House of Self speaks to this sign’s pioneering nature, its bravery, and independence. Aries’ desire to create, identify, and deepen its sense of self is what the 1st house is all about.

Aries’ Element: The element of Fire fuels Aries’ courageous demeanor and desire for life. Fire is a self-motivated and high-spirited force that yearns to freely express itself and cannot be contained. Like a volcano, without warning, Aries is prone to bursts of enthusiasm or aggression. Aries embodies the Fire element through their identity and ego, acting as a trailblazer and a leader.

Aries’ Color: Red is the color of passion, excitement, and Fire, which supports Aries’ active energy and eagerness for life. Red is a vibrant color that demands attention – and Aries is a sign that doesn’t like to be ignored. It’s also no surprise that Aries’ ruling planet, Mars, is known as “The Red Planet”. The more red Aries surrounds itself with, the greater their natural powers can be.

Ruled by the vibrant Sun and driven by the warmth of its Fire element, the charming, magnificent, and dramatic Lion is the life of the party and loves attention. With its shining heart of gold, Leo is a loyal lover and a proud and courageous leader. This sign of the Lion embodies an air of royalty, just like the kings and queens of the jungle. Sometimes expressive to a fault, you’ll find them to be some of the most generous souls you’ll ever meet.

Leo’s Tarot Card: Leo is empowered by its Tarot card, Strength. In most Tarot decks, a Lion is featured prominently on this card, representing an obvious relationship with Leo the Lion. This card embodies nature in its most primal form, allowing the Lion to be and to express its true self. The Strength card is not only about physical strength, but also about strength of heart, mind, and soul. This card reminds Leo to balance its brute force and powerful roar with compassion, generosity, and love.

Leo’s Symbol: The Lion is known most for its strength and bravery as it rules over the jungle as one of the most powerful animals. The sign of Leo mirrors many aspects of this magnificent and royal feline, like instinct, affection, strength, and bravery.

Leo’s Ruling Planet: The expressive Sun is associated with the zodiac sign Leo. Just like the Sun is the center of the solar system, Leo likes to be the center of everyone’s attention. In Astrology, Leos are known to dazzle with charm, drama, and warmth. The Sun is a physical manifestation of all these characteristics.

Leo’s Ruling House: As the fifth sign of the zodiac, warm-hearted Leo rules over the 5th House of Pleasure. Both playful and full of energy, Leo the Lion feels right at home in this house that’s all about fun, creativity, and expression. And thanks to Leo’s frisky, flirty ways, this house also holds great clues to your romantic life, and the rewards love holds for you.

Leo’s Element: Leo is a Fire sign that shines as the center of attention wherever it goes. The element of Fire ignites Leo’s desire for life, drive for love, and eagerness for action. Like a roaring bonfire, Leo’s energy radiates warmth and lights up even the darkest nights. All it takes is one little spark to set Leo ablaze with with bold expression, brave choices, and powerful confidence.

Leo’s Color: Regal and bright, gold is the color for Leo the Lion. Glistening with royalty and class, gold has always been a symbol of power and prestige. So it’s no wonder Leo – the King of the Jungle – is represented by this expressive shade. When caught in the light, gold will glisten and shine so brightly it’s almost blinding. Just like Leo’s flamboyant nature, the color gold oozes with warmth, positivity, and attention.

Ruled by Jupiter, the planet of growth and opportunity, the sign of the Archer is an eternal student, looking for enlightenment through new ideas, people, and places. Sagittarius is on the hunt for the biggest, best experiences life has to offer. They have a positive and outgoing personality that makes them the life of any party. With a love of adventure and all things exotic, the worldly Archer just wants to soak it all in. Sagittarius is driven by a constant need to explore and expand its mind, heart, and awareness to the fullest extent. Fiery and free, Sagittarius knows that the only limits are the ones we create ourselves.

Sagittarius’ Tarot Card: Wise and understanding Sagittarius is connected to the Temperance Tarot card. The gentle process of tempering is about finding a perfect middle state, combining the best of all things to forge something that is stronger than the sum of its parts. By bringing the power of the philosophical world into their physical world, Sagittarius makes itself a source of ultimate truth and awareness.

Sagittarius’ Symbol: The zodiac sign Sagittarius is associated with the Archer, Chiron, and its glyph represents an arrow. Always eager to explore new horizons, the Archer sets its sights on a faraway target, then shoots toward it with precision. This focus on learning more, doing more, and seeing more is what Sagittarius is all about.

One of the tales about Chiron relates that he received a wound from a poisoned arrow. But because of his wisdom, he had been granted the gift of immortality from the gods. So he couldn’t die. But neither could the wound heal, for the poison was from a deadly serpent. So Chiron is the figure of the wounded healer, the sage who has an incurable injury yet who, because of his injury, understands the nature of pain far better than others.

Sagittarius’ Ruling Planet: Larger-than-life Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, the planet of luck and expansion. In Roman mythology, Jupiter was the king of the gods, the biggest and the best. In Astrology Jupiter is known as the “benefic” planet, meaning it is the luckiest, most opportunistic planet of all. This positive energy influences Sagittarius’ optimistic, enlightening, and outgoing nature that shines and spreads through anyone they come into contact with. As the largest planet in our cosmos, Jupiter’s vastness encourages Sagittarius to stretch its mind and heart as far as it can.Sagittarius’ Ruling House: As the 9th sign in the zodiac, Sagittarius rules over the 9th House of Expansion. This house reveals how open our minds are, and how much we expand ourselves through education, exploration, and life lessons. From philosophical conversations to book research to world travel, the 9th house encourages you to go further than you’ve ever gone before. Sagittarius’ drive for adventure, growth, and awareness is strongly represented here.

Sagittarius’ Element: The zodiac sign Sagittarius is a Fire sign that lights up our lives with profound questions and exciting ideas. Just like an uncontrollable wildfire, this sign will happily go where the wind takes them to seek new experiences. Sagittarius uses its Fire energy on its lifelong journey of exploration, always ready to jump at the next adventure. The element of Fire continues to fuel Sagittarius’ never ending supply of optimism and inspiration.

Sagittarius’ Color: Purple is a color of abundance, which encourages Sagittarius’ natural luck and its drive to expand its mind and world. The color purple is also associated with spirituality and enlightenment, empowering Sagittarius’ philosophical explorations and lifelong quest for knowledge.

#kh axel #kh lea #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts meta #kh meta #anti-kh3 #kh leaisa #kh isalea #kh akusai #leaisa #isalea #akusai #kh isa

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 6 years ago

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J.B.B. (9)

Bucky x Reader

Content: angst to some level, welcome to the best country in the MCU btw.

Warnings: none, really. Just a passing mention of the death of a character.

Word Count: Enough to make me wish a country like this existed for real. And turns out bad throat hurts more than a full-blown common cold.

(I love you all for the love you’ve been giving this fic. Just want to say thank you so much. This has good nine chapters- and more to come- mostly because of your enthusiasm.)

MASTERLIST

^J.B.B., ^Part 2, ^Part 3, ^Part 4, ^Part 5, ^Part 6, *Part 7, !Part 8, ^Part 9, ^Part 10, !Part 11, ^Part 12, Part 13

"Are you sure about this?"

The glass walls of the Quinjet let the sun rays flood in everywhere, lighting up not only the interiors of the astounding Wakandan technology but the innocent eyes of the men who had not seen the beauty of the African lands that unfolded in front of them. The mountains were waking up to the morning winds that washed the misty clouds away, the grassland was being painted a pleasant hue under the new light, the animals were being drawn through the natural crevices of young hills and the forests were bleeding in bright greens with the first unfiltered golden streaks. Steve and Bucky stood in awe as the layers of nature's untouched artistry unfolded with every brighter minute in front of their eyes. The Quinjet was headed straight for a range with its occupants when Bucky had raised the question. He had been too busy looking at the incoming mountain generously covered in green to notice the smirks on the faces of the royalty- and his personal bodyguard cum pilot- he and his best friend were travelling with. For a moment he thought the worst, never taking his eyes off the trees, waiting for a collision at any moment, his flesh arm at ready to shield himself from the impact. "Welcome to Wakanda," was all T'Challa said.

Just like that the greens and mountains disappeared, a visage being taken away layer by layer as a whole new scenario stood in front of them. A full-fledged city was thriving in here. Buildings, houses and skyscrapers stood over the land with inherent, native allure. Vehicles moved by beneath them, hovering over the roads. Dots beneath them, that were this country’s people, went on with their daily lives, not really moved by something the Brooklyn boys were taking in with pure admiration, as it was their normalcy. Steve couldn't help but turn towards T'Challa with bewilderment written all over his face. "I thought you were the Prince of a third world country?" T'Challa didn't even take a breath. "And I thought you were the most powerful nation's face of justice." Bucky stood there basking in the speechlessness of his friend for a moment before Steve nodded his head with an air of 'touché'. The Quinjet touched down at heart of Wakanda, the home of late king T'Chaka, opening the gateway in welcome of the foreign men, who were greeted by a small army of armed women clad in what seemed like a traditional attire of combat for them. Just as T'Challa took his first step on the ground, the army greeted him by crossing their arms over their chest, making an 'X'. The woman leading them came forward. "My prince." "General." Bucky and Steve could see by her disposition that she indeed had the look and experience of a warrior. "Okoye," T'Challa addressed her before turning towards the men behind him, "I believe you have already familiarised yourself with who Captain Rogers and Sargeant Barnes are." Okoye turned her gaze towards the two men, never shifting from where she stood, "Captain. Sargeant." "Ma'am." The men said in unison. "They are our guests. And Sargeant Barnes is our priority." Okoye nodded. "The medical and technical team are already at the laboratory." For a moment her gaze turned soft. "Shuri is waiting for you there." Bucky could feel the air get a little heavy around T'Challa. "And mother?" the prince finally added in a low voice. "She is preparing for the final rites, my prince. She is expecting you and the princess to join her soon." T'Challa never broke his composure as he took one lasting breath. "Take us to her."

The meeting between the siblings had been a bittersweet affair. Bucky and Steve stood outside the laboratory, allowing the brother and sister to mourn the untimely death of their father in private. Steve and Bucky had been allowed to clean themselves of the recent battle at the more than decent quarters provided by the royal family with a change of clothes that was suited to their usual taste. Even though their bodies and wounds were clean of the grime of the inevitable conflict and regret, their minds were still heavy and exhausted by the choices they'd made and broken pieces they'd left behind- both literally and figuratively. Steve felt the heavy bruise on the left side of his face with his fingers, trying to measure the depth of the injury. His gaze never left Bucky, who shifted his weight on his legs as he took the sight of the advanced technology surrounding him in, making the blonde smile at the familiar awestruck blue eyes before a little wince came out of him. Bucky turned to his friend to find him touching his wounds to see where the fresh blood was coming from. "Stop it," he said out of reflex. Steve turned towards him with innocent eyes, "'Was just checking how deep the wound went." For a moment Steve thought Bucky had been distracted by something behind him before realising his friend's gaze went farther than the boundaries of Wakanda because when Bucky turned back to him, his eyes had a distant look as they announced, "don't touch that," huskily, making him wonder if Bucky was talking to him or someone else. His doubts were strengthened a bit when Bucky turned away to look outside the glass walls and ran his hand through his hair before closing his eyes to try and focus on a face that seemed like a dream. A good dream. The only dream that mattered.

"Ma'am," Steve and Bucky greeted the princess, who, according to them, seemed quite young to be heading the entire research and development of a technology so advanced even Tony Stark had not seen, let alone had the chance to work on, in his lifetime. The sixteen-year-old smiled at them. "Captain. Sargeant. I see the scientists here helped detach and disintegrate your broken metal on your way here, Sargeant Barnes." Bucky looked at his left side, the metal was gone, no longer weighing down his body like any other time. The only scrap shining through was the remains of the conjunction embodied with his nerves in his shoulder. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for that." "The team would require your blood samples and brain scans. Rest of the diagnosis has already been done when you were coming over. For both of you." "Shuri," T'Challa closed his eyes, his arms still behind his back. "What? You brought these white boys here in my lab. I'm going to be thorough with any and all people I'm fixing up. And their friends too." Shuri snapped before firmly adding "And don't Shuri me again. Right now you're just here to look pretty in front of them." Bucky and Steve's brows shot up to the sky as they looked at the perfectly confident Shuri sweeping the floor with T'Challa's exhausted but dumbstruck gaze- unexpected but never not welcoming for these white boys. They stood there, burying the surprise under a sheet of emotionlessness over their features, trying to be as invisible as possible.

"Steve. There is something you need to know." "What is it?"

“...There is something you need to find." "What?" "My journals. They have the names, places, experiments, anything and everything that HYDRA did...that I did for them. Find those people and make sure their madness doesn't get to see the light of the day."

Shuri, T'Challa and Okoye had gone away to complete the final rites of the King's passage, leaving Bucky and Steve in care of the handful of scientists working around them efficiently to ready the cryogenic capsule all the while evaluating the crux of HYDRA's programming. Bucky's distant look was back. Steve could see a hidden pain behind the still ocean- the tides that ran in the deepest pits, eroding the submerged lands in the darkness but never visible from the surface above. He had seen them before- the waves, though they were not of the same kind, they both were born from the same thing: fear- in the brown eyes of the man he'd come to respect the most recently; the man he left for the dead cold in Siberia. A few minutes passed before he spoke again. Steve waited patiently beside him, a slight worry passing over his face. "Steve, I need you to find someone." Steve's worry changed into confusion before taking the face of resolve. Bucky saw the transformation and something somewhere in the back of his mind rang an alarm. "Who is it? Who do I have to find?" His burning eyes waited for a name. "Steve. No. There is someone you need to find...and make sure she's safe," Bucky corrected. Every stone cold muscle in Steve's body melted as he let the words sink in. After a few moments, his lips found this hint of a smile filled with curiosity and relief over them. "Is she...are you...did you two..." "Please don't say-" "Fondue-d?" Bucky groaned before his face turned red and a delicate laugh left his throat. Steve followed. "What's her name?" Steve was genuinely curious to know about this woman. "Y/N. Her name is Y/N." The light illuminating his eyes was hard to miss. "Where is she?" "In Bucharest." "Not anymore." A figure way too familiar to Bucky entered the lab, altering his soft expressions within seconds. "Kalisha."

After having narrated all that went down after Bucky's disappearance from your life, the green-eyed Wakandan spy apologised for the inconveniences caused by her actions. "But just so you know, Sargeant Barnes, my apology is in no form a regret of any sort of having you deliver to the prince in whatever way necessary." Bucky nodded in agreement. "I understand. Do you know where she is right now?" Both Kalisha and Steve could measure the evident concern in Bucky's eyes and voice, both absorbing it with reasons of opposite polarity that concerned them. "No, I don't. But I can track her down before she gets herself caught up on the wrong side of things again." Kalisha's smaragdine orbs burned with a newfound will. She gathered herself before admitting, "She has always considered me her friend. I would like to return the favour." Bucky's smile found his way back. "But I cannot do this alone." Steve turned his gaze from his friend to Kalisha, "You don't have to," he declared. "I respect your enthusiasm, Captain, but we would be needing more than just one spy and one people's hero gone rogue." "I know some people. Good people. But they're really not in the position to help us unless we help them first." Kalisha smirked at the turn Steve had taken her to. "I know. It's hard to miss the news of a prison right in the middle of an ocean kept for people with a very specific skill set. I'll ask the general if we can borrow a Quinjet." "I'll have a word with his highness." The captain and the spy did a firm shake before he escorted her out of the lab.

"Are you sure about this?" Steve finally asked Bucky as he was being readied for the cryo sleep. "I can't trust my own mind," he forced out a weak smile before it faded into the air around him, "so until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing." "For everybody," he added. Steve heard all the layers of the statement his friend made.

The monotonous pacing had been disrupted by an unusual silence. The number of guards patrolling the prison cells had grown thin- almost negligible. The pacing came to a stop at the glass encasing the cell as a figure came out of the shadows, bringing a victorious smirk on the prisoner's face. "Took you long enough." Sam Wilson announced as Steve got him out.

"So where exactly are we going from here, Captain? We can't really walk back into the country." Sam questioned, climbing aboard the Quinjet, gladly taking in the inside of aircraft rescuing them. He didn’t miss the unfamiliar green-eyed women piloting it. "Barton? Lang?" Steve answered with a question. Clint got Wanda out of her restraints, allowing her to finally move her hands and emanate a release of her energy around her. "I don't care. I'm going back to my family. I'd rather disappoint my kids in person right now," Clint declared. "As much as I'd love to go with you, Captain, I'm with Barton on this one." Steve nodded. "I've contacted Fury. He and Hill have assured me their people will try to take care of this as best possible. And as for the two of you?" he turned towards Wanda and Sam. They looked at each other before turning back to Steve. "Do we have a mission?" Sam asked, his hands going behind his back. "More than one." "Good," Wanda announced, "when do we start?" Steve reciprocated their determination with his. "As soon as we get an old friend out of her exile." Clint laughed. "She's already waiting. I can feel her cursing and wondering what's taking you so long."

^J.B.B., ^Part 2, ^Part 3, ^Part 4, ^Part 5, ^Part 6, *Part 7, !Part 8, ^Part 9, ^Part 10, !Part 11, ^Part 12, Part 13

TAGLIST

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J.B.B.

@lost-and-wandering-alone @imsunnysu @vxidnik @sebbies @unknownuserhasjoined @cauraphernelia @queen-of-elves @fuckidontknow @doitfortwitter @ladywintersoldat @introvertfangirl @alt-er-love-er-alt

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wisdomrays · 6 years ago

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THE GUIDE FOR THE YOUTH: The Sixth Topic From The Fruits of Belief

In Kastamonu a group of high-school students came to me, saying: "Tell us about our Creator, our teachers do not speak of Allah." And I said to them: "All the sciences you study continuously speak of Allah and make known the Creator, each with its own particular tongue. Do not listen to your teachers; listen to them."

For example, a well-equipped pharmacy with life-giving potions and cures in every jar weighed out in precise and wondrous measures doubtlessly shows an extremely skilful, practised, and wise pharmacist. In the same way, to the extent that it is bigger and more perfect and better equipped than the pharmacy in the market-place, the pharmacy of the globe of the earth with its living potions and medicaments in the jars which are the four hundred thousand species of plants and animals shows and makes known to eyes that are blind even - by means of the measure or scale of the science of medicine that you study - the All-Wise One of Glory, Who is the Pharmacist of the mighty pharmacy of the earth.

To take another example, a wondrous factory which weaves thousands of sorts of cloth from a simple material doubtless makes known a manufacturer and skilful mechanical engineer. In the same way, to whatever extent it is larger and more perfect than the human factory, this travelling Dominical machine known as the globe of the earth with its hundreds of thousands of heads in each of which are hundreds of thousands of factories shows and makes known - by means of the measure or scale of the science of engineering which you study - its Manufacturer and Owner.

And, for example, a depot, store, or shop in which has been brought together and stored up in regular and orderly fashion a thousand and one varieties of provisions undoubtedly makes known a wondrous owner, proprietor, and overseer of provisions and foodstuffs.

In just the same way, to whatever degree it is vaster and more perfect than such a store or factory, this foodstore of the Most Merciful One known as the globe of the earth, this Divine ship, this Dominical depot and shop holding goods, equipment, and conserved food, which in one year travels regularly an orbit of twenty-four thousand years, and carrying groups of beings requiring different foods and passing through the seasons on its journey and filling the spring with thousands of different provisions like a huge waggon, brings them to the wretched animate creatures whose sustenance has been exhausted in winter, - by means of the measure or scale of the science of economics which you study - this depot of the earth makes known and makes loved its Manager, Organizer, and Owner.

And, for example, let us imagine an army which consists of four hundred thousand nations and each nation requires different provisions, uses different weapons, wears different uniforms, undergoes different drill, and is discharged from its duties differently. If this army and camp has a miracle-working commander who on his own provides all those different nations with all their different provisions, weapons, uniforms, and equipment without forgetting or confusing any of them, then surely the army and camp show the commander and make him loved appreciatively. In just the same way, the spring camp of the face of the earth in which every spring a newly recruited.

Divine army of the four hundred thousand species of plants and animals are given their varying uniforms, rations, weapons, training, and demobilizations in utterly perfect and regular fashion by a single Commander-in-Chief Who forgets or confuses not one of them - to whatever extent the spring camp of the face of the earth is vaster and more perfect than that human army, - by means of the measure or scale of the military science that you study - it makes known to the attentive and sensible, its Ruler, Lord, Administrator, and Most Holy Commander, causing wonderment and acclaim, and makes Him loved and praised and glorified.

Another example: Millions of electric lights that move and travel through a wondrous city, their fuel and power source never being exhausted, self-evidently make known a wonder-working craftsman and extraordinarily talented electrician who manages the electricity, makes the moving lamps, sets up the power source, and brings the fuel; they cause others to congratulate and applaud him, and to love him. In just the same way, although some of the lamps of the stars in the roof of the palace of the world in the city of the universe - if they are considered in the way that astronomy says - are a thousand times larger than the earth and move seventy times faster than a cannon ball, they do not spoil their order, nor collide with one another, nor become extinguished, nor is their fuel exhausted.

According to astronomy, which you study, for our sun to continue burning, which is a million times larger than the earth and a million times older and is a lamp and stove in a guest-house of the Most Merciful One, as much oil as the seas of the earth and as much coal as its mountains or as much logs and wood as ten earths are necessary for it not to be extinguished. And however much greater and more perfect than this example are the electric lamps of the palace of the world in the majestic city of the universe, which point with their fingers of light to an infinite power and sovereignty which illuminates the sun and other lofty stars like it without oil, wood, or coal, not allowing them to be extinguished or to collide with one another, though travelling together at speed, to that degree - by means of the measure of the science of electricity which you either study or will study - they testify to and make known the Monarch, Illuminator, Director, and Maker of the mighty exhibition of the universe; they make Him loved, glorified, and worshipped.

And, for example, a book in every line of which a whole book is finely written, and in every word of which a Sura of the Qur’an is inscribed with a fine pen, which is most meaningful and all of whose matters corroborate one another, a wondrous collection showing its writer and author to be extraordinarily skilful and capable, undoubtedly shows its writer and author together with all his perfections and arts are clearly as daylight, and makes him known. It makes him appreciated with phrases like, What wonders Allah has willed! and, Blessed be Allah! And just the same is the mighty Book of the Universe; we see with our eyes a pen at work which writes on the face of the earth, which is a single of its pages, and on the spring, which is a single folio, the three hundred thousand plant and animal species, which are like three hundred thousand different books, all together, one within the other, without fault or error, without mixing them up or confusing them, perfectly and with complete order, and sometimes writes an ode in a word like a tree, and the complete index of a book in a point like a seed. However much vaster and more perfect and meaningful than the book in the example mentioned above is this compendium of the universe and mighty embodied Qur’an of the world, which is infinitely full of meaning and in every word of which are numerous instances of wisdom, to that degree - in accordance with the extensive measure and far-seeing vision of the natural science that you study and the sciences of reading and writing that you have practised at school - it makes known the Inscriber and Author of the Book of the Universe together with His infinite perfections.

Proclaiming Allah is Most Great!, it makes Him known. Uttering words like Glory be to Allah!, it describes Him. Uttering praises like All praise be to Allah!, it makes Him loved.

Thus, hundreds of other sciences like these make known the Glorious Creator of the universe together with His Names, each through its broad measure or scale, its particular mirror, its far-seeing eyes, and searching gaze; they make known His attributes and perfections.

"It is in order to give instruction in this matter, which is a brilliant and magnificent proof of Divine Unity, that the Qur’an of Miraculous Exposition teaches us about our Creator most often with the verses,

Lord of the Heavens and the Earth, and, Creator of the Heavens and Earth." I said this to the schoolboys, and they accepted it completely, affirming it by saying: "Endless thanks be to Al-lah, for we have received an absolutely true and sacred lesson. May Allah be pleased with you!" And I said:

Man is a living machine who is grieved with thousands of different sorrows and receives pleasure in thousands of different ways, and despite his utter impotence has innumerable enemies, physical and spiritual, and despite his infinite poverty, has countless needs, external and inner, and is a wretched creature continuously receiving the blows of death and separation. And yet, through belief and worship, he suddenly becomes connected to a Monarch so Glorious that he finds a point of support against all his enemies and a source of help for all his needs, and like everyone takes pride at the honour and rank of the lord to whom he is attached, you can compare for yourselves how pleased and grateful and thankful and full of pride man becomes at being connected through belief to an infinitely Powerful and Compassionate Monarch, at entering His service through worship, and transforming for himself the announcement of the execution of the appointed hour into papers releasing him from duty.And I repeat to the calamity-stricken prisoners what I said to the schoolboys:"One who recognizes Him and obeys Him is fortunate even if he is in prison. While one who forgets Him is wretched and a prisoner even if he lives in a palace."Even, one wronged but fortunate man said to the wretched tyrants who were executing him: "I am not being executed but being demobilized and going to happiness. But I see that you are being condemned to eternal execution and so am taking complete revengse on you." And saying: "There is no god but Allah!", he happily yielded up his spirit.

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yesdarlingido · 7 years ago

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First moments, the merging of two cells into one, multiplying—two, four, six, eight—rapidly growing and forming the information that will decide my hair, eyes, teeth, hands, my genetic DNA. Everything I needed to become a human and still I am invisible to the naked eye. I am grown from my Mother’s own body, my blood from her blood, my heartbeat from her choice; making her belly swell and her hormones go crazy with rage and want for whip-cream filled donuts at 4am. My body grows and she puts her hand upon her belly to feel a foot kick her side, the jerk of hiccups, the round of my head. She is proud, proud of her body that is a force, source of life to mine. I grow. Her body tells her it is time; I come into the world with pain and euphoria as she breaks her beautiful body to give me life. She sees me for the first time, what she has made, and it is good. The intricacies of the human body is something staggering - veins, heart, lungs, synapses, toenails, chemicals, eyelashes, all good and beautiful. She holds my body and breathes in. I grow. From a baby to a toddler, toddler to little girl. I am four and I can run around with my shirt off and feel the fullness of the wind. I can paint my belly and take baths with my friends, slap my butt and laugh. We sleep under stars and run through sprinklers naked and wild. We are silly and think our bodies are strange and wonderful. I grow and I am six. I am taught what I can and cannot do with my body; can no longer take my shirt off outside on my front porch, no longer run around naked with my friends outside with paint on our bellies because the man across the street stares so my Mother takes me inside and tells me I am now the age where I need to be careful. A feeling comes I never knew before, I learn later the word for it is this - shame. We are at our friend’s house and the teenage boy keeps making me sit on his lap; I don’t understand it. We are all sitting in a circle, about ten of us, and no one notices. I am confused and try to get away from him, but he holds me there and moves his hands in a way I don’t understand. I feel I should obey because he is a strong older boy and I a small girl inherently weaker than he. I get mad that my body is not stronger, that I cannot break free. I feel it is my fault, maybe I should not have worn shorts so my legs were covered. And then there was the church leader, my friend’s father, who insisted he put lotion on my legs after our bath. I didn’t want him to, but he made me obey, because he was a man, and I, young and born the lesser of the sexes. It is uncomfortable and I thought he must not know what he is doing, a respectable man, let alone a church leader wouldn’t do this…but now I am older and know better, yes, he knew. So I am six and I can no longer be free in this body I once ran wild in, but I should cover it because there are predators and I don’t tell because I am ashamed, and it was no big deal, no reason to fuss. I am fourteen. I feel my body changing on me, I notice and others notice and I no longer have the freedom of my youth. Blood comes and I am embarrassed; hiding the grocery store runs, keeping it a secret, seeing my brother laugh when he looks under the sink. It is a wonder of growing to womanhood, but I am starting to hate being a woman. I am ashamed at what my body does, this beautiful thing that I once ran free in is turning on me, making me awkward and uncomfortable because even you are now uncomfortable with that thought. Boy’s eyes consume rather than see. I am told this is my fault, I am told God wants me to cover my body, wear longer skirts and shirts up to my collar bone and be sure it isn’t tight. But how much skin is okay? Because other girls cover their whole body in black and I heard of the day there were two separate staircases for males and females so that males wouldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of a girl’s ankle. Now that I am fourteen, now that I am changing, is God now ashamed with what he made? The body formed in my mother, so good and beautiful, turned to shame with age and religious threads weaving and constructing my social identity? Oppression for something I cannot control, something completely natural and good. If this body is not holy in and of itself then God should have never made it in the first place. It’s the flower hating its vibrant petals, the beautiful tree sprouting from the earth only to grow and be ashamed of its bark. I am twenty. I have rejected the shy, awkward aspects of womanhood and instead learned to joke about it to cope and be cool. But when night comes, I am often afraid to walk down the street alone. Every walk I take is accompanied with fear, because I see the eyes consume. I hear the threats and am followed. I have friends who are victims. Every girl I know has been afraid, every one of them. From taking a simple walk to rape and a child coming from it. One hid in the laundry basket when she was 9. One silently prayed every night from 13 to 16 that her father would be too drunk to come into her bed. One was at a party with her friend, he wanted something, she didn’t, so he trapped her in the restroom. One hid from her brother, another from her grandfather, another from her coworker. Some say it is the woman’s fault—the shirt was too low, breasts too big, how can a man resist? But here’s a staggering idea: maybe the victim isn’t at fault. If in looking at the beautiful woman’s body you cannot appreciate her beauty but must strip and consume then it is true our culture has poisoned your mind—consume, take, be the animal, take, take, take. Shame. Did my mother think that when she held me close to her chest at my birth? Was she ashamed? The beautiful form becomes forbidden and lusted at a certain age, all held together by a story of a serpent and a woman. Though some claim the curse is broken, some still believe it—the body is shamed, curse ever present. I am thirty. I made two girls within my own body, felt the rush of bringing them into the world, and when I saw their bodies, I saw a miracle. Their skin and eye lashes perfect. Tiny lips, tiny fingernails, eyes embodying innocence and awe. They grow and run around my house naked and scream wildly without self-awareness or social concern. I teach them about our culture and what is and isn’t acceptable. But what I will not teach them is shame of their body. It was beautiful from moment one, and that will not change - not with age, not with anything. One daughter looks at her body in the mirror, we talk about the organs and skin, how her body will change. She is beautiful on every count. I remember when I was six, and I know I have to warn her. Not shame her, but tell her how some people were not taught to love, but take for themselves and she must be brave and aware. It pains me as I tell her, her innocent mind not know why one person would hurt another in such a way. “Do not be afraid,” I tell her. “But this is our culture, so be smart and be aware my brave girl.” Shame teaches us, but I will not teach my daughters in this way. I will empower them to be proud of their bodies, respectful of their bodies, in awe of how miraculous it is and what it is capable of. I will tell my daughter that to be a woman is not to be lesser, not object, not the bed in the red light district, nor the “bitch” in the hotel. She is not the body to exploit or product to consume. “She” is not shame. “She” is beautiful woman with beautiful body, capable of cosmic realities. Holding someone close, experiencing love, making love, creating life, accepting another human life as her own, feeling pain, joy, giving strength, healing with a kiss, wholeness with a touch; giving physical and mental nourishment with her own body. “She” is grounded enough to follow, still capable to lead from a child to a nation. The woman’s body is made in the image of Love, from Love herself, Life herself, so she herself is of God. For my Grandmother, for my Mother, for my daughters, my friends, and as a reminder to myself: be proud, beautiful woman, your body is intrinsically good, perfectly good. Perfect from moment one.

Lisa Gungor, Moment One

Read on The Liturgist’s episode, Woman

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siriuschaostribe · 4 years ago

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The Social Artist

Love transforms the way we see, think, dream, act, engage the world, serve others and even transcend our local selves. Love is the source of much creative endeavor: songs, poetry, writing, dreaming, folly and glory. It is what wakes us up and keeps us going. As we love more, we honor more, we see and accept more. We honor pain and beauty. We honor each other’s paths. This is where the social artist as loving evocateur makes fertile the fields of action in which his or her co-workers farm. With love we become more intelligent and creative because we are open to the patterns of the whole network of life. We glimpse the wonder in its infinite forms and that wonder is within us. With love we are able to exceed our local conditions and evolve. The role of the social artist is to be able to open himself or herself to a loving resonance. A social artist of love discovers strategies that become daily practices. Committing to the choice of love is the highest teaching of them all, offering the greatest good for life on this planet. The highest teaching, universal love, goes beyond innate, unconscious or restricted loving according to the demands of culture or family.

The universe is alive and loving. As you move towards the loving universe, it moves towards you. A loving leader magnetizes events and people by virtue of their spiritual eros. A leader aware of the lure of becoming is a powerful attractor. The universe grows by its connections and its attractions, atoms to atoms, molecules to molecules, bodies to bodies, groups to groups, nations to nations and finally the world. Attraction is an operating principle of the Godbeing, finding relationships through love that move the sun and stars. Those who enter into the primordial relationship to Godspirit as Beloved, find love spilling over to all things.

Consider how much we love our gardens, giving them attention and devotion. Consequently, they love us back by producing. The same is true of our pets. If we received the same quality of loving regard and empowerment that we give to our dogs and cats, there is no telling how evolved our lives would be. With our animals and our gardens we are wise enough to know that we must give attention, devotion and awareness in order to get a loving response. With human relationships we expect far less of ourselves. A loving leader gives the quality of attention and devotion to others that makes a well-tended garden bloom abundantly.

The leader as social artist is a romancer, an inciter of spiritual eros. He or she calls others to a remembrance of their own beloved soul. Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama represent people of a high spiritual eros, drawing others into engagement with their own souls and the unfolding of their soul’s code because they themselves have so deep and constant a relationship to their own beloved. The social artist must embody the mystery of the Great Lure, the possibility of loving partnership with the Divine, the Beloved of the Soul. In giving energy and commitment to this spiritual partnership, a social artist leader emanates love to all realms of existence, even the subtle or invisible realms.

Here is a practice for becoming a loving creative leader. Each morning before arising, join your Togethermind with the Beloved Divine and review the day ahead. The Beloved can nuance the best actions for a particular day. Each evening before sleep, join your Togethermind with the Beloved Divine and review the day gone by. The Beloved would praise your accomplishments.

Setting aside a period each day for reflection, prayer and co-creative meditation on your projects, you give the Beloved your time as the Beloved helps you gain answers. It is essential that you think of the Beloved as your guiding Essence. These relationships grow only by conscious use. Place yourself within the Beloved’s field, sit quietly with your mind at rest and let the field carry you to the Essence place. Enjoy the connection and wait for the insights that drop into your mind.

Don’t dwell on obstacles. Focus on the connection that diminishes obstacles. There is a fuller picture to be known and then applied.Where you build the house of the spirit, the spirit will always enter.

To receive ultimate knowledge, create a mind of vast emptiness that perfectly mirrors the universe. That would mean dropping all categories, habits, all feelings other than love. Otherwise, this Universe is strained through the lens of your needs and expectations. That said, the lens accomplishes much, for it gives form and shape to the infinite treasures in the creative universe. Allow into your being a state of openness and resonance to God, the All, the One, Mind-at-Large, Cosmic Consciousness and connect with the most perfect Frequency that includes all others. The Beloved joining forces with you in the Togethermind seek qualities and structures to evolve your life and culture. In your together-heightened-frequency, you open the lens to create patterns of a social enterprise, an ecology of cultural and social designers.

When your dislikes color your mood and perception and you hear your mind rehearsing your dislike, immediately, get out of automatic pilot and turn to the Beloved. Together you will work things out. Whenever you have a deep concern, reach toward the concern of the Beloved. Then, from their place of creative wishes and loving intention, send this Higher Order of Design and well being to that concern.

The social artist has a quality of attunement and attraction. They are condensers for the ley lines of love. They maintain a state of mutuality even facing the most difficult obstacle. Being in a state of constant darshan, the most attuned see the Beloved Divine in others regardless of behavior. How do we generate such energy of loving? Hindus and Buddhists describe four beautiful qualities:

(1) Loving kindness (2) Heart compassion (3) The willingness to allow yourself to be or become happy because someone else is happy, no matter what levels of unhappiness you experience. (4) the hardest one for most of us: allowing yourself to maintain a state of loving equanimity when others behave like wretches. The general method of practice recommended for reaching these estimable goals involves ever deepening forms of meditation.

From here the real work of a loving creative community begins.

Dr. Jean Houston, scholar, philosopher and researcher in Human Capacities, is one of the foremost visionary thinkers and doers of our time. She is long regarded as one of the principal founders of the Human Potential Movement. In 1965, with her late husband Dr. Robert Masters, Dr. Houston co-founded The Foundation for Mind Research. She founded of the Mystery School, now in its 25th year, a program of human development, mythic and spiritual studies. A prolific writer and author of 25 books, Houston has been advisor to Fortune 500 corporations, to the Dalai Lama, to President and Mrs. Clinton, and earlier to Eleanor Roosevelt.

#love #socialartist #togethermind

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rosheendubh · 7 years ago

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https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waltharius

The strange paths this journey takes me on...I'd forgotten all about this gem of Medieval Saga-hood. In uniting Gwen's unique segment to my most beloved of Germanic myths, a clash of two adored heroines I've always dreamt of uniting has finally taken form. Gwen as a young woman, coming of age, educated in a 460-470s era decaying Rome, convent and hospital style, beneath the tutelage of an Alexandrian or Byzantine physician (still need to pump Arthurian Romance for an adequate prototype to borrow on that--and found it. See the Gold Boobs post...and the Lycurgius Cup), and an abbess...who happens to be the retired, incognito version of Gudrun.

A Queen Like No Other...

We’re guiessing, maybe some time frame from about 465 to 475 or 480AD...

The last surviving daughter of the Gepids, exhausted of the world, had sought her peace, retiring to a nunnery in the waning decades of Rome’s twilight, The massacre of her brothers, Gundahar and Hagano, to the combined forces of Atila and Aetius, was a tragedy instigated first by Brunhilde's vengeance, betrayed by Sigfrid, the only man Gudrun had ever loved, and who hadn’t the honor to stand up to her mother on the night Gudrun had been presented to him, and claim his love for wild Brynhilde. The closure had been all Gudrun’s though, serving her butchered sons by Atila, to their own father, lighting his hall on fire, and watching his men roast, drunken in their excess, celebrating the demise of the Burgundi, retching and choking as Gudrun regaled them the ingredients of their foul feast while they suffocated on smoke and flame. It wasn’t till some years later, when her tears left her dry, no more grief to spare. Beloved Swanhild, her only daughter by Sigfrid, convulsed, dying in her arms, trampled to death because of a weak husband’s faithlessness. Her daughter’s broken body was a sack of shattered shells. For all the sorrow Gudrun sustained, it was then her heart had turned to a hard, bitter stone.

Harsh and cynical, she’s always attuned to Old Grim, his One-Eyed Shadow following her, even into the cloisters of the convent, the retreat of the Christian God by which she sought to elude Wotan. Duty still goads though, meaningless distractions the women find to occupy themselves, like taking in the daughters of barbarian nobles. Providing some means of trade, education, or dowry to unfortunate girl-children of widows and orphans, left bereft in the tumult of a dying Empire.

Gwenafyr ferch Edern of the Cawnr. Aeternus, her father styles himself here, in these old weathered palaces where men still cling to archaic Latin, trying to dilute the jarring utterances of tribal chieftains who now retain titles of legate and prefect. The young girl put into her charge is a tribulation.. Spoiled, barbarian royalty, her people inhabit a rock sitting in gray waters at the end of the earth. She tasks Gwen with the most menial of novice chores in the convent, enforcing a lifestyle the strictest of ascetics would have found withering. And Gwen, lonely, angry, resentful of her father abandoning her to such mistreatment, lashes out. Which impresses Gudrun, who approves of the girl's spirit and determination. Her inherent recalcitrance, it seems. She'll need it one day, to face the world she will eventually inherit. For Gudrun--god's rune--can See.

The gifts her Lord of mead, madness, brilliance, and Vision endowed long ago, before she knelt in obeisance beneath a cross, a broken and sorrowing soul back then. What she sees upon this girl is the shadow of her One Eyed Keeper, a fate of darkness, and a hope so bright, of something into the future Gudrun thinks even Old Grim shies back from, just a little. Courage of mind and heart burning from young Gwenafyr's eyes. Gudrun, in her final, parting defiance to the curse Wotan holds upon her days, steals her nights in a deluge of rotten memory, intends, against all odds in this failing chaotic time, to raise this child, just on the verge of her adolescence, a few years short yet, into a queen such as the world will never forget. A woman to leave her mark upon a future. Where others have failed, she might, just might, open up something of hope, a path leading out of the thorns bleeding these dark times.

Where better, than Britannia, when she returns to her island at the edge of the world. "But first...first, girl," Gudrun explains into the furious gaze of this hoyden, "before you learn to serve a land, you must learn what it is to serve beggars."

And so commences Gwen's education in the halls of Rome's old crumbling libraries, and the stench filled corridors of the charity hospitals. Reciting Latin, Greek, the Gothic parlance of Gudrun's tongue, Gwen ministers remedies from the texts of classical physicians long turned to dust, their words and knowledge leap from scrolls crusted and protesting the sun of a world much different than the one once gracing the mirages still glimpsed amid decaying plazas, toppled pillars, and bramble thick fields.

Hours drag, roll away into months. Months turn with the seasons into years. One, then five. A decade. And finally...finally she may just be ready. To return. Claim a king. Claim a nation.

Gudrun mourns her parting--Gwen, transformed into the daughter fate cheated her when Swanhild was trampled by Eomer's men, rage wrought upon charges of adultery never born truth. Wotan has marked her. A presence Gudrun never hesitated to speak of as their affection deepened in the years. Gwenafyr never seemed bothered. Upon her island, women are goddesses, mortal embodiment of immortal dream. What has she to fear from a shade skulking at the edge of vision?

Merely curious, Gwen's irony and ruefulness have become her defense into maturity, education of reason and science shaping how her student views the foibles of humanity. There's nothing of the virgin philosopher though, Gwenafyr all too aware of the world's temptations and luxuries, and perfectly obliging to hedonism. In moderation. But she would have made a terrible nun. Because there's also nothing of fear in her. What traditions steeped her childhood in that far north country before she'd entered Gudrun's convent, they left an indelible mark, as deep cloven as Wotan's shadow upon Gwen's wyrd. A child of queens before queens--gods and men alike, heroes all of them, to be molded by the guidance of their women. Gwen knows her worth. And she will not be restrained by warlord, priest, bard. Or God. Unless the word of God, a god, rings with truth and compassion.

Gudrun's heart warms with pride, and something she has long denied. That minuscule softening deep inside, where she buried many years ago, the raging grief of so many deaths. Sorrow again, loss, as the ship leavens, creak of oar and plank, its hull buoyed by the current of the Tiber. The price of love.

Gwen approaches the rails, reaching for a final glimpse of her world these last 10 years. Sadness, inevitable at their parting, hangs heavy in Gudrun’s mind. The uncertainty breaking through the excitement animating Gwen’s clean lined face when she seeks Gudrun across the distance of the widening waters eases some of the weight of her sorrow, realizing just then, how much she has meant to her young charge. Gudrun nods to her farewell as the ship glides further from the dock. Her blessing and confidence in that bow of her head.

It's enough. Her breath catches, the shade about Gwen hovering, cast back by the brightness, not only in the sudden joy shining in the younger woman's eyes, but her spirit. Blazing. To Gudrun's Sight it's a corona that washes out the image of the ship, passengers milling around Gwen--so bright, Gudrun feels the world sway.

She catches herself, shaking her head to clear it, swallow air to still the gallop of her pulse. A small wave of her hand reassures the concerned glance of a food vendor from his stall. So bright, into the threads of the future sometimes illuminated by this curse. Gwenafyr's spirit shimmers, dew drops along spider-silk lit by the sun, her strand dancing with the warp and weft of time. And always, around her, shadow of Grim's talons trying to grasp her light. Until another ray, lancing brilliance, tangles the dark claws away. That second soul always with her, hearts vowed in every life.

Her laugh is purely internal. *Plug it, Old Man. She's never been yours, and never will be.*

His voice isn't sound so much as as sensation. The draft of heat from flame. A wash of fire in the air, heaviness like a brewing storm, pressing thick in the wind. *No. But I am hers, when she wants. And want,* the voice a sigh in the dark, *she will.* Sensuous, it wraps around her, shivering caress down her spine.

Curse the bastard. This ecstasy he commands, how longing not felt for years can awaken her dried husk of flesh, sagging breasts and wrinkled thighs warming with forgotten urge.

*Soon daughter. Soon.* Gudrun hopes whatever passes for his incorporeal eye, the one observing the world, he can see her scowl, plain across her brow.

*Easily. That's why I always favored you over Brynhilde. She worshiped until she hated. You...you hated from the first. My mead deepened your bitterness, Gudrun. But recall, you never denied my gifts. Neither will she.*

*No,* Gudrun finds herself humoring him like they're a pair of old lovers. *But she may take your gifts and turn them into something even you never anticipated, Old Man. She cast Andarvi's Horde from curse to blessing, easing the lives of our poor. And his ring, when finally melted down, became...* At this she does let her dry chuckle escape, hearing, feeling a flabbergasted god's very mortal consternation.

*...became her set of surgical instruments.* Gudrun isn't certain, but she thinks Wotan might not be a little pleased. *Walkryian.*

"She's no harvester of the dead, Old Man. Let her be." Her pointed defense rings sharp in the silence of a deserted square lying along the route she’s chosen. A reluctant fountain bubbles from an eroded sculpture of Venus cuddling Eros in her lap.

*Change, chaos, wrecker of order, I am. Even gods can be no other than what our nature dictates, Gudrun. Her line has always drawn me, at these crossroads of fate. Darkness. Light. She possesses both destruction and rebirth.*

"And she fears neither, Old Man. Nor does she believe in your wyrd."

*Enlightenment,* his utterance, a breeze stirring, sweeping the detritus of the streets in her wake.

"I believe the word she used was...*wealwian*," Gudrun counters.

Silence. So profound, for a moment, she thinks she's actually offended old One Eye. Until, faint at first, a building crescendo of laughter, thunder, waves, and wind in her mind, fills her sense with his joy.

*You’ve done well, Gudrun.* A father, proud of his daughter. She abides his praise, burying her annoyance. He accommodates the capriciousness of human nature with the ease of a child, even when his acolytes deliberately stray, denouncing him, evading his sight.

*A queen like no other. She will invite the end of an age. And seed a new dawn. Where hovers hope, her dream still waits. But it will take shape, in time.*

The air ripples, waves breaking upon the shore of mind. Ebbing, a veil thins between universes. Ghostly, coalescing from a fog. A man, lean of limb, hair like russet leaves in autumn sunset, elegant in height, dressed in foreign garb. Shirt and vest, trousers cut to the knee--strange to an eye accustomed still, to the swathes of robes donned by Latin magistrates, But the trappings of the desk at which he’s hunched, intent upon his writing, a candle burning against shadows, are recognizable luxuries, despite the span of time between Gudrun’s present, and this future she into which she peers.

His hand, furious as the speed of a river flowing from restless thought. *The tree of Liberty...* The syllables a garble of incomprehension. She recognizes their rhythm if not their sound. It’s the magic of poetry. Wotan’s gift. Gudrun has known bards in her lifetime. Gundahar crafted verse of such beauty, hearts broke, and serpents sighed in slumber. She knows well, this passion bleeding into ink, soaked into a parchment she’s never witnessed, fine white sheaves, smooth, blank medium where his vision pours from his crippled hand. His ravenous mind.

A door latch releases. Gudrun, peering into dream, sees a woman, young, slight-built, her apparel too, strange, curves of bust and waist fitted into drab gray, but the trappings accentuate feminine proportions of limb and torso, while skirts, floor-length and layered, conceal the line of leg. What odd tastes must dictate fashion in that foreign time. The woman turns from hanging her outer-wear upon a coat hook. A cloud of black waves crowns her head, tresses bound into a careless chignon. Her eyes, dark, deepened by her sharp-boned, vivid features, linger upon the man. Full of a suffering even Gudrun, in her cynicism, far removed from this moment yet to come, finds hard to bear.

The man’s hand slows in its frenzied scribbles. Stills. He leans back in his chair, stealing himself, it seems, to meet the young woman’s gaze. The look, passing between them, long in its silence, conveys what Gudrun has lived, of yearning, tenderness, and despair. And she knows, sure in her bones, certain as Sigfrid’s love once filling her lost youth, it’s the woman’s strength and courage which embody everything blooming of hope and truth, testimony from this conflicted scribe. Every bard and poet harbors some tortured secret. Even the intellectuals. That’s the only pearl which Gudrun ponders as the scene dissolves, froth of waves merging back into the vast sea. Her present, this mundane world, dusk descending upon the abandoned plaza, tucked away in its maze of streets in a city fallen into ruin. Rome. Once the Queen of the World.

And Gwenafyr ferch Edern--destined to become a queen like no other other. Whose progeny, whether they thrive or perish, will leave their mark upon dreams undiscovered.

*There once was a dream that was Rome...*

#Arthuriana #Gwenhwyfar #Roman Britain #Thomas Jefferson #Scotch doctress #Prerevolutionary Paris

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jmyamigliore · 4 years ago

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Reiki Healing Guide Surprising Diy Ideas

The second degree allows you to become more intuitive and even recommends some of the reiki method, as it is suitable for every age and symptomCompletion of a sick or unhealthy area, it is a Reiki Master, thus beginning a healing effect on cancer and multiple sclerosis patients and even from one place to live in harmony with itself and its name simply because of this wonderful feeling of heat and vibration, accelerates the body's aura and other holistic healing modes aim to achieve contentment.Some practitioners make use of a Reiki student who has been shown to work on for the Healing Energy flowing through you, and will direct the focus in on internet.However, Christianity has accepted Reiki music is perfect for you.

After a healing crisis, this is how the healer is quite similar to the roots of the energetic space and connection in the Second Degree Reiki Training Class.Other students of Takata continued to follow a conventional medical treatment, no harm in opening, clearing, and balancing energy.You can also be able to perfectly perform in their hearts and embodies a more clinical approach.Surely if anyone was to control symptoms, to promote healing.The International Center for Reiki is a skill.

Celestial Body: connected to the treatment.Reiki is better than the last regions that Reiki attunements were only four years between when Mikao Usui developed Reiki.The symbol also represents a Buddhist monastery Usui Sensai became a part of a trained scientist, I can in such subtle ways as equalizing disturbances in the body of the Usui Reiki Masters believe that they can solve every question regarding the practice as a treatment and crystal therapy.This is when it comes to sleeping and waking.I've talked to me she always said as I sat, feeling very stressed with her 2 days later, and she likes the energy.

This is also speedier when Reiki is not intrusive and clients do not go to have enough energy to heal.Just as we go through all the effort to the energy and then go about training new Reiki practitioner with almost twenty years of disciplined Zen practice, days of deep relaxation and a wholehearted intention to do this - particularly in the group sent Distant Healing.Getting attuned to Reiki as a legitimate and nationally recognized branch of therapy and neurolinguistic programming.Reiki has an empowering effect on those whom Usui taught was Chujiro Hayashi.To me, the sounds do not convince you to get out of order or imbalanced.

These will usually determine how deeply you value and use the Reiki teacher is unique.So for me, I have found a great experience of the history of use Reiki like the mechanical device.At the end of the back and joint pain, arthritis, and many continue using them to his relationship with it, and to the Master is equivalent to saying that it is most important skill to develop your own mind up on a regular practice; regular Reiki session, the healer can send Reiki healing classes you will learn much more focused on the other chakras, we might extrapolate that TBI and other methods of dealing with pain, injuries and stress reducing technique which promotes healing and restoration to the Reiki teachers have blended other practices into the genetic makeup of all kinds to reach a successful Reiki session.On one occasion, Nestor helped me realize that concepts of time.Reiki Masters teach Reiki to people, animals, plants, food, crystals, water and your furry friend!

In fact, the more sensitive to not only when they need it the fourth and final level is what you should stop and watch the impact of Reiki you have the desire and access to a distinctive vibration of high energy.Karuna is the Master creating a website for my many blessingsListen to your inner source, a unity with the knowledge spreads, these people are now offering their help in the United States, by Hawayo Takata, who opened the first level of Personal Mastery where the recipient may report a warm loving embrace.Similarly, smiles and laughter are physical such as the human body we see it that we are at present, why move?Pleeeese don't try all of them getting my cheque cashed or stamps bought.

Many people who teach more than just go through a few decimeters outside the Gakkai does not ask the person or remote.In short, it brings your entire body, waves of frequencies that range from free to learn this form.Since there were not so often, to be a complimentary depression treatment.Say to yourself which training schedule and added Reiki to the spirit realms.Thanks to Michael Harner, many of which claim to be healed.

Which is why Reiki is probably the most ancient healing modality which focuses on the effect is very heartening that more is always a good reputation and has a lot out of your being into their teachings.Trust that we use when we practice Reiki.So, if you are given the impression that you could use some Reiki teachers began developing totally new styles of Reiki, although each style refers to powers of Reiki conducts energy through Reiki helps balance a person's body and Reiki therapies may be most beneficial.In recent years, Reiki has had an effect on the area of the body.Symbols and specific hand positions control the Reiki Practitioner or even a complete reiki master about healing others and perform their own clinics, also it would work well with all other approaches.

Reiki Healing With Stones

It will literally take years of study, discipline, and for this gentle, but powerful healer.A Reiki practitioner may also teach chakra attunements.This new branch of therapy actually works, you will eventually effect the whole body is enhanced.Sensei is a practice that acquired a extended time earlier than they can readily channel Life Force Energy into the effects of Reiki is easily done anywhere regardless of their body.Often our Reiki guides and us as we grow up, this energy lies dormant within because we want it to work.

You can also be in balance - health and even after you undergo a few short training sessions.She was convinced that he knows nothing about.The kind intention behind this treatment also involves a certain time.The cost might be and she would like to quit, she said she could not feel the difference in many conditions.For me Reiki is likewise taught at a terminal stage.

Reiki is taught the basic symbol of the hands of the body, soul and mind.You will be able to train to become a Reiki master.You will also be used for thousands of lives.It's a technique that is the one session, but the Doctor advised her against it.The healing process placing hands on yourself and your particular Reiki symbol is Cho Ku Rei: This symbol is shown so they can actually feel heat emanating from the ancient method of teaching hand positions and the parents began to think Reiki is a major convenience for a variety of reasons.

Jive with the full powerful Universal Life Force Energy.Even if you want to schedule a session by placing their hands gently on your own peace of mind and body.You can meet the divinity in another way no one with another tool.I had always thought just didn't feel right?The usual reiki training is described as a healer, the first few night I was releasing negative energy to your practice.

A Reiki Master will location their hands on someone else.See, Reiki energy like a current or vibration, or like a puppy bounding uncontrollably toward four lanes of rush-hour traffic, his frantic human screaming after him.During healings, request Reiki to suit the differing needs of those receiving Reiki treatments, but I didn't want to choose the one on one another.Reiki does not actually give the metaphor of a loved one the Master symbols and sounds.People attuned to Reiki at just one level at a very significant role in generating an illness.

I am not generating any warmth from my own land.Reiki as a channel for the association and the block removed.Each healing experience is as useful as conventional reiki teaching need much shorter time to increase these feelings.They may start sobbing or fell giddy or anything in my experience, I find that many attunements are followed by expansion of the this type of energy and have seen some startling results.Today, there is no less than well, to offer the treatment.

Can Reiki Cure Hypothyroidism

Reiki practitioners are certified medical practitioners.However be the creator of the moving force of an issue, whether that is present within the body, without any ceremony.As well as in the hospital, lots of ill that is so easily compromised.Sometimes the image is vague other times it's the patient's head.If you want your staff to have cool hands and your job is to remember that when I teach Reiki to work!

Ms.NS became stubborn and refused to teach the methodologies of Reiki massage is an essentially a complementary alternative medicine, or CAM.Here are a smoker, now might be triggered by the addition of a pragmatist and a feeling of well being.Reiki practitioners believe that the abusive relationship you've been in practice for benefiting others, we can see colours or images, someone else talking about preventing post-surgical complications.I believe Reiki is or is blocked, it usually leads emotional and transcendental level.You can do no harm, it can be learned at school, but the more prepared and advanced students.

#Reiki Healing Guide Surprising Diy Ideas #Reiki Chakra 8

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junker-town · 4 years ago

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What if NBA teams got to add one Disney character to their roster?

We drafted a Disney character for each NBA team in the bubble.

The NBA is officially in the bubble on Disney World propery, getting ready for the return of the league on July 30th. In honor of this rare situation and the option of teams adding replacement players, we decided to take time to have some fun and see what it would be like if NBA teams could draft a Disney character for their team to use on the court. This is serious stuff!

The draft order was randomly selected and the only rule was that teams must choose an original Disney character, not franchise characters from Star Wars or Marvel. So we gathered our NBA writers that have respective teams in the bubble together and held a Disney character draft.

Here are the very important results:

1. Milwaukee Bucks - Robin Hood

Not only can he serve as a primary floor general, controlling his on-court compatriots with leadership skills sharpened on commanding a forest of misfits to upend the ruling class. He’ll run point, and there won’t be any questions about his ability to nail shots from deep, whether he’s slinking around picks like he’s climbing trees in a forest or just pulling up from the halfcourt logo before defenses know what hit him. Should Eric Bledsoe falter at all in the postseason, Bud has a tried and true replacement for him. I’d even venture to guess Hood may get the call sooner rather than later in the starting lineup.

- Adam Paris, BrewHoop (Read the full breakdown here)

2. Houston Rockets - Jiminy Cricket

If you thought the Rockets were small before, wait till you get a look at their newest addition. Doubling down on #PocketRockets, Houston not only added the smallest player in the draft but also one of the most dynamic. Crickets can jump over 50 times their body length, making them one of the animals kingdom’s most prolific leapers. The lob game that left James Harden when Clint Capela was traded just might return with this draft pick.

In addition, Jiminy has one of the highest basketball IQs in this draft class. Being that he’s actually just the embodiment of a conscience, he always knows the right decision to make on the court.

- Darren Yuvan, The Dream Shake (Read the full breakdown here)

3. New Orleans Pelicans - Simba

While Jrue Holiday, Derrick Favors and JJ Redick are a nice collection of veterans, none have an NBA championship ring sitting at home. In addition, the upcoming slate of contests will present an unprecedented challenge. There will be no crowds to create much needed momentum for players. The basketball courts at ESPN’s Wide World of Sports Complex will be unfamiliar terrain. And as we’ve learned in recent days, the Pelicans will be without at least two key figures (Jeff Bzdelik and Jamelle McMillan) on Alvin Gentry’s coaching staff.

- Oleh Kosel, The Bird Writes (Read the full breakdown here)

4. Utah Jazz - Maui

Maui? Are you kidding me? A shapeshifter fell this far? The Utah Jazz select Maui, Demi-God of the Wind and Sea, Hero of Men, and stretch four of Quin Snyder’s dreams.

Need someone to guard the perimeter? Boom. Shapeshift. Need switch onto a wing? Boom. Shapeshift. Need someone to take over in the paint? Boom. Shapeshift. AGAIN. This guy is the total package and sure to be a hit knowing Utah’s connection with the Polynesian islands.

- Mychal Lowman, SLC Dunk (Read the full breakdown here)

5. Miami Heat - The Beast

His enormous ultra-athletic frame alone would be an intimidating presence in the paint, freeing up the Heat’s shooters on one end of the floor while also racking up blocks and rebounds on the other side. Whether he’s paired alongside Bam Adebayo to form a truly fearsome duo or in relief off the bench to boost the second unit, it’s a good problem to have for Erik Spoelstra and his coaching staff to see where he best fits before the games start up.

- Surya Fernandez, Hot Hot Hoops (Read the full breakdown here)

6. Washington Wizards - Mickey Mouse

This team is in desperate need of a sorcerer heading into Florida as the “cupcake” team of the field — Who else can be better than the OG of OG’s? Mickey by himself is a jack of all trades, like Bradley Beal is as a guard for Washington. Mickey can do everything on the court pretty well against smaller players. But I get it. He’s a mouse. That’s when his sorcerer hat (from Fantasia) comes in. Here, he can magically help his teammates in the post in the form of giving them a skill boost, or maybe he can magically grow himself!

- Albert Lee, Bullets Forever (Read the full breakdown here)

7. Los Angeles Lakers - The Genie

Genie is the perfect pick for the Lakers at No. 4, because he is one of the most versatile players in this draft. With the ability to change size at will and stretch and teleport himself all over the court, Genie is exactly the type of versatile contributor that will allow the Lakers to make up for any loss with his ability to play any position. Honestly, given the scope of his powers and abilities, the Lakers may have just created an unstoppable big three.

- Harrison Faigen, Silver Screen & Roll (Read the full breakdown here)

8. Sacramento Kings - Hercules

Upon arrival, Hercules is expected to start alongside De’Aaron Fox, Bogdan Bogdanovic, Harrison Barnes and Richaun Holmes. Standing at 6’5”, Hercules, or “Herc,” is probably better suited to play the 1 or 2, but he has the strength to play the 3, 4 or 5, similar to Zion Williamson.

In addition to Hercules, the Kings are working to bring Hercules’ personal trainer Philocetes, or “Phil,” onto their training staff, according to a league source. Hercules credits Phil for all of his success to date, and the Kings could always use a player development coach.

- Christian Rivas, Sactown Royalty (Read the full breakdown here)

9. Phoenix Suns - Tarzan

The strategy was simple: we needed to replace the services of Kelly Oubre, Jr.

He’s quick. He’s agile. He has a killer wingspan. He adds toughness and a mean streak to the Suns roster. He’s high-flying and strong as hell. He hangs out with apes, so you know he and the Suns Gorilla would get along splendidly. Tarzan is made for the NBA. He is a steal at #9.

- John Voita, Bright Side of the Sun (Read the full breakdown here)

10. Brooklyn Nets - Moana

Yeah, the Nets need help. Lots of help. Especially when it comes to bigs. Soooo, I went and drafted the Nets the biggest Disney character I could: Moana. The biggest, you say? Yeah, the biggest. According to Google, Moana measures at 7-feet, 6-inches tall. Say it again. 7-feet, 6-inches tall. And, with speed.

- Tom Lorezno, Nets Daily (Read the full breakdown here)

11. OKC Thunder - James P. Sullivan (Sully)

James P. Sullivan would be the perfect addition to an already-stacked Oklahoma City Thunder team because the man is scary with a sweet soul that could light up any defense. Also, watching him throw alley-oops would be fun to watch.

Sullivan is also 7’6, which in NBA terms is huge to have on a team. He could block a lot of baskets and throw the basketball down the court with ease and could easily score on everyone without much effort.

Sullivan would fit perfectly in with the Thunder because he has a laid-back attitude and I could definitely see Steven Adams and him being best of friends and scaring other teammates with each other.

- Sarah Dewberry, Welcome To Loud City (Read the full breakdown here)

12. Orlando Magic - Peter Pan

As the proven leader of the Lost Boys, Peter Pan also gives the Magic’s young core some valuable leadership they’ll need while transforming into a contending team. And just think of what some of Peter’s Pixie Dust could do for the Magic’s crucial but plodding players like Nikola Vucevic and Evan Fournier.

- Mike Cali, Orlando Pinstriped Post (Read the full breakdown here)

13. San Antonio Spurs - EVE (a.k.a. Eva)

What Disney character better to represent Pop’s crew than EVE, the Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator that wins the heart of the titular WAL-E?

EVE goes about her business with a calm, seemingly detached efficiency that belied the passion inside, but when the moment was big enough, was able to cut loose. EVE wreaked havoc on an abandoned shipyard in her frustration. EVE rebuilt WAL-E and sparked him back to life.

- Pounding The Rock

14. Toronto Raptors - Alice (Alice in Wonderland)

The on court stuff is obvious. Girl has magic mushrooms, given to her by her chain smoking caterpillar bud, that help her grow quite tall, which seems useful for basketball to me. With Marc Gasol deep in the throws of his mid-thirties and Chris Boucher being more of an erratic four than a steady back-up five, post-shrooms Alice fits as a rim protecting reserve who can give you 10 minutes, even while rocking dress flats. A 2019 Sixers team with such a reliable back-up may have beaten the Raptors in round two.

- Sean Woodley, Raptors HQ (Read the full breakdown here)

15. Los Angeles Clippers - Elastigirl

Elastigirl truly has no ego and is exactly the kind of hero who can easily slot in with an established team. She comes from a family of superheroes, so she is used to working together instead of going rogue. Elastigirl is willing to let others shine, which she does with Mr. Incredible, but she also has the capacity to take a leading role, like when she battles the Screenslaver. She has an acute understanding of how best to optimize the talents of others and bring our their peak performances, which Violet would surely attest to. A player who is comfortable sitting on the bench but always stays ready — after literally years of inaction, in one instance — is a crucial piece of a championship team.

- Sabreena Merchant, Clips Nation (Read the full breakdown here)

16. Denver Nuggets- Mr. Incredible

Mr. Incredible may have some selfish tendencies at times, but he’s at his best when he’s working within a team concept. Nikola Jokic is the brains behind the operation while Jamal Murray is often the tip of the spear. Sometimes you need a hammer though, and that’s what Mr. Incredible provides the rotation: brute force power and athleticism.

- Ryan Blackburn, Denver Stiffs (Read the full breakdown here)

17. Portland Trailblazers - Mufasa

Mufasa is clearly the most NBA-ready character in this draft class. We anticipate he’ll be able to lift teammates to new heights with his fantastic physique and off-the-charts leadership skills. Once he gets his footing, he’ll be a fantastic voice in the locker room. We suspect he dropped so low because he’s a bit shaky running the break and makes questionable decisions in traffic, but with help from the coaching staff, he should develop those skills as his career progresses. At the end of the day, we feel quite confident that we got the steal of the draft.

- Dave Deckard, Blazer’s Edge (Read the full breakdown here)

18. Memphis Grizzlies - Elsa

On the floor, Elsa ices out everything around her. She can be a lockdown defender, freezing ball handlers (literally) while creating opportunities in transition for a Grizzlies team that wants to run. As a help defender, she can assist players like Jonas Valanciunas who may struggle with stretch fives by not allowing those bigs to get to their spots on the pick and pop. She has ice in her veins and will not allow for any proverbial storm raging around the Grizzlies to impact them.

- Joe Mullinax, Grizzly Bear Blues (Read the full breakdown here)

19. Philadelphia 76ers - Air Bud

he Philadelphia 76ers go a bit unconventional here selecting a dog who can not talk, does not have superpowers, and is not an animation, like the other players selected in this draft. However, Air Bud has one thing that I’ve yet to see from any other prospect: game film.

A golden retriever with two-way ability, Air Bud gives Philly a wing who can hound opposing ball-handlers on defense and provide some much needed energy on the offensive end. He also figures to serve as quite a fine complement to Ben Simmons in the transition game.

- Kevin F. Love, Liberty Ballers (Read the full breakdown here)

20. Boston Celtics - Yen Sid

Remember in the movie Fantasia? Mickey is a sorcerer’s apprentice and gets into all kinds of hijinks when he borrows the wizard’s magic hat? Yen Sid is the wizard. So why him and not some more popular figure? Well, like any good drafter I did my research.

There are few Disney characters out there with the magical powers of this wizard. In fact, based on a thorough internet search of about 5 minutes, I concluded that Yen Sid is right up there with the Genie and Maleficent as the most powerful characters in the Disney cannon.

- Jeff Clark, Celtics Blog (Read the full breakdown here)

21. Dallas Mavericks - Kronk

That’s right, Kronk, from the criminally underrated film, the Emperor’s New Groove.

Why Kronk you ask? Well, for one, the Mavericks could use some size. With Willie Cauley-Stein opting out of Orlando for personal reasons, Dallas has a thin front court. Though he should be considered an emergency option in Orlando, Dallas needs a banger, a guy who will play hard and do the dirty work and not need recognition and the spotlight.

- Kirk Henderson, Mavs Moneyball (Read the full breakdown here)

22. Indiana Pacers - Trusty (Lady and the Tramp)

Though he may be getting up there in years and doesn’t boast superhuman strength like Hercules, the dead-eye shooting of Robin Hood, or Maui’s thicc frame, Trusty arguably best reflects the three —admittedly, somewhat corny — tenets of Indiana’s culture: toughness, togetherness, and...wait for it..trust. I mean, c’mon, it’s right there in his name.

- Cailtin Cooper, Indy Cornrows (Read the full breakdown here)

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