Icarus' Flight
..........and that is what this story is about ... wings, the yearning to fly and escape those things one feels are holding our soul captive.
It was in a time before dreams were labeled impossible and magic flowed through the air on the wings of wishes.
Daedalus was an inventor, he took pride in the things he created. But his true pride lie with his child Icarus. Such a loving child, with a need to reach beyond the human limitations and soar toward the stars of hope.
Icarus dreamed of flight, to break away from the earth's pull and float with the breeze. But the vision of being closer to the sun, that was the longing that was ached with. The need to know such a being as the sun was almost more than Icarus could hold in one small heart. And the yearning for such drove Icarus to reach beyond the daily toils and look to the magic of wishes.
Daedalus, could see his child's need radiating from the fail body that held her soul to this earthly plane. The pain that burned so plainly there was more than the father could bear for his child. And in an act of unselfish love he laid aside all other tasks to fulfill this need that fed off of his child. Daelalus envisioned wings.... wings such has had never been seen before..... and he with love and patience began the task of making his vision a reality.
For as much as Icarus wished to soar, Daedalus wanted his child to have her hearts desire.
And the day dawned when at last the wings were done. Daedalus called his only child to him and unveiled that which he had toiled for so long. The wings; in Icarus's eyes they reflected back at the maker. They were beautiful to behold, made of wax to be light and sturdy. And child size if such a thing were so, as wings for a child. The magnificant gifts were put upon Icarus's back and joy ran though the tiny body that stood so proudly there. Daedalus's eyes misted from the site of his child so austure and proud with the promise of a wish on her back. And for a moment the earth stood still as father and child breathed in the magic of the day.
Then with no word needed; for the love and gratitued showed plainly on Icarus's face, she stepped off into the air.
Icarus plummeted down toward the rocks below. Her father stood still questioning her fate. The answer came quickly, his heart rose with the sight of his child soaring back over the edge and beyond.
At that moment Icarus felt she had no need of the wings her heart was so light. She had the dream, it had become her reality in an instant. But already her true goal beaconed her. And with no further thought she flew to meet her destiny
With no regret for that which she was leaving behind. It was not that she no longer needed such things. Just that she could only see that which she felt she had lived for finally within her grasp.
The sun.... pulling her to it's warmth and light. At last to be with her heart's passion, to know peace all this pulled Icarus higher still.
Her father a tiny figure below could only watch as the love of his life passed beyound his sight. He could no longer see her, but he could feel the joy in her heart. And for him, it was enough.
Icarus continued to fly upward to become one with her desire. The heat seared her, melting her wings but fanning her desire.
There was no marking of the time when Icarus left her body. No way to know when the metamorphisis occured. She simply went from girl to light, no more. The pull of her wish was enough to make reality release her.
And she was one with the sun. Her father watched as a flash of brightness took that which he had loved and cherished. And the the love and loss he felt cut through his very being severing him, never to be whole again. He had gave his heart so that the one he loved could feel true happiness, to be complete.
And with the act sealed his fate as shattered.
Friday 7 December 2001
Sei Shonagon's Hateful Things
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One has gone to bed and is about to doze off when a mosquito appears and announces itself in a reedy voice. One can actually feel the wind made by his winds and, slight though it is, one finds it hateful in the extreme.
One is in the middle of a story when someone butts in and tries to show that he is the only clever person in the room. Such a person is hateful, and so, indeed, is anyone, child or adult, who tries to push himself forward.
One is telling a story about old times when someone breaks in with a little detail that he happens to know, implying that one's own version is inaccurate -- disgusting behavior!
Very hateful is a mouse that scurries all over the place.
A certain gentleman whom one does not want to see visits one at home or in the Palace, and one pretends to be asleep. But a maid comes to tell one and shakes one awake, with a look on her face that says, "What a sleepyhead!" Very hateful.
Excerpted from The Pillow Book, translated by Ivan Morris. Columbia Univeristy Press.
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away. If it is someone of no importance, one can get rid of him by saying, "You must tell me all about it next time"; but, should it be the sort of visitor whose presence commands one's best behavior, the situation is hateful indeed.
Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him. After one has had a long fretful wait, the exorcist finally arrives, and with a sigh of relief one asks him to start his incantations. But perhaps he has been exorcizing too many evil spirits recently; for hardly has he installed himself and begun praying when his voice becomes drowsy. Oh, how hateful!
A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew everything.
To envy others and to complain about one's own lot; to speak badly about people; to be inquisitive about the most trivial matters and to resent and abuse people for not telling one, or, if one does manage to worm out some facts, to inform everyone n the most detailed fashion as if one had known all from the beginning -- oh, how hateful!
An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.
One has gone to bed and is about to doze off when a mosquito appears and announces itself in a reedy voice. One can actually feel the wind made by his winds and, slight though it is, one finds it hateful in the extreme.
One is in the middle of a story when someone butts in and tries to show that he is the only clever person in the room. Such a person is hateful, and so, indeed, is anyone, child or adult, who tries to push himself forward.
One is telling a story about old times when someone breaks in with a little detail that he happens to know, implying that one's own version is inaccurate -- disgusting behavior!
Very hateful is a mouse that scurries all over the place.
A certain gentleman whom one does not want to see visits one at home or in the Palace, and one pretends to be asleep. But a maid comes to tell one and shakes one awake, with a look on her face that says, "What a sleepyhead!" Very hateful.
Excerpted from The Pillow Book, translated by Ivan Morris. Columbia Univeristy Press.
Monday 3 December 2001
Signs that you're STILL addicted to 'The X-Files'
...You start eating sunflower seeds just because they remind you of Mulder.
...You perk up when you hear a character in a film or TV show mention that the FBI have been called in only to be disappointed when the Feds who arrive aren't Mulder or Scully. Or even Doggett for that matter.
...You know more about exsanguination than anyone who isn't a medical doctor or a vampire has a right to.
...You know Mulder & Scully's badge numbers, birth dates, and addresses by heart but you still have trouble remembering the exact date of your parent's wedding anniversary.
...You take a Latin class just to keep up on the episode titles.
...You could spend hours discussing the complex intricacies and underlying themes of 'The X-Files' but if someone asks you to stand up and say a few words at a meeting your mind goes blank.
...You have a 'X-File'quote for every occasion and on every one of those occasions you use them.
..You use a quote from 'X-Files' in your e-mail signature.
...When you see a picture from the show you can tell at first glance the title of the episode it was from, the season, and the basic plot. Most of the time you can even supply a few choice quotes from the episode,
...The only words in Russian you know aren't appropiate for certain audiences. (Thanks a lot Krycek.)
...Bees. They aren't just for honey anymore.
...You get wistful when driving by a cornfield. (Mulder! Scully!)
...Whenever you see the color blue you marvel at how it's like a gentle breeze.
...You know all the In-Jokes in each episode.
...When you hear the word 'fox' the first image in your head is not of a small woodland creature.
...You start eating sunflower seeds just because they remind you of Mulder.
...You perk up when you hear a character in a film or TV show mention that the FBI have been called in only to be disappointed when the Feds who arrive aren't Mulder or Scully. Or even Doggett for that matter.
...You know more about exsanguination than anyone who isn't a medical doctor or a vampire has a right to.
...You know Mulder & Scully's badge numbers, birth dates, and addresses by heart but you still have trouble remembering the exact date of your parent's wedding anniversary.
...You take a Latin class just to keep up on the episode titles.
...You could spend hours discussing the complex intricacies and underlying themes of 'The X-Files' but if someone asks you to stand up and say a few words at a meeting your mind goes blank.
...You have a 'X-File'quote for every occasion and on every one of those occasions you use them.
..You use a quote from 'X-Files' in your e-mail signature.
...When you see a picture from the show you can tell at first glance the title of the episode it was from, the season, and the basic plot. Most of the time you can even supply a few choice quotes from the episode,
...The only words in Russian you know aren't appropiate for certain audiences. (Thanks a lot Krycek.)
...Bees. They aren't just for honey anymore.
...You get wistful when driving by a cornfield. (Mulder! Scully!)
...Whenever you see the color blue you marvel at how it's like a gentle breeze.
...You know all the In-Jokes in each episode.
...When you hear the word 'fox' the first image in your head is not of a small woodland creature.
Saturday 1 December 2001
Kathrynia
Kat purred softly and curled comfortably around the fire. Remembering her mother's advice, she coyly tucked her tail safely away from the dancing flames. She purred again, ever so softly, feeling lost and alone, she looked around the temple with large cat-eyes.
Its been a month since she last saw her family. They were on the way to Keratch when she lost them. She kicked herself for the umpteenth time. She knew she should not have chased after that elusive butterfly, leaving her family behind. But it was such a pretty butterfly. And it smelled strangely of melted butter! It was too much for a curious kitten to bear, and Kat chased the butterfly for miles, before she suddenly realized she was lost.
Tears welled up in her blue eyes, as Kat tried to find a familiar face amongst the strangers in the temple. She purred again, sadly. Perhaps to an untrained ear, all purrs seem the same. But to another mrem, a sad purr is as different to a happy purr like a sob to a giggle.
A soft purr whispered in her ear. Kat looked up, startled, for she did not even notice anyone next to her. A shadowy mrem with a sombre ring around his tail smiled and offered his paw to her.
She reached out and took it, following the mrem to a Pawn Shop. He then sneaked through a small door, taking Kat with him.
Blinking, her cat-eyes adjusted almost immediately to the darkness of the room. The room was dark lit only by four candles: one in each corner. The walls, floor and ceiling were made from paneled wood shining with a thick glaze. An nstructor slipped in and out of the shadows showing students how to sneak and steal. Targets and straw dummies hung on the walls covered with embedded daggers in vital areas.
"Learn all you can, dear Kat." the shadowy mrem said. "Learn to take care of yourself. They are the best you can learn from."
Kat nodded slowly, afterall, what else could she do? She was alone, lost and but a kitten. And now, she had found a friend and a teacher.
Within days, she was a languid sleek female mrem. Her fur is midnight blue and neatly groomed, with a small patch of white just at tip of her left back paw.She moves around slowly, her large blue eyes wide open and sharp ears twitching ever so slightly. Completely relaxed and always at ease, her long limbs are slightly muscled. Her face is pleasant (for a mrem), with a small triangular black nose above a mouth perpetually curled into a grin. Tiny white fangs peek out from her lips, giving her an almost sinister look. Almost, if she did not grin as much as she does. She smells slightly of catnip.
She was now a lithe young female mrem with midnight blue fur.
Now to find her family.
Kat purred softly and curled comfortably around the fire. Remembering her mother's advice, she coyly tucked her tail safely away from the dancing flames. She purred again, ever so softly, feeling lost and alone, she looked around the temple with large cat-eyes.
Its been a month since she last saw her family. They were on the way to Keratch when she lost them. She kicked herself for the umpteenth time. She knew she should not have chased after that elusive butterfly, leaving her family behind. But it was such a pretty butterfly. And it smelled strangely of melted butter! It was too much for a curious kitten to bear, and Kat chased the butterfly for miles, before she suddenly realized she was lost.
Tears welled up in her blue eyes, as Kat tried to find a familiar face amongst the strangers in the temple. She purred again, sadly. Perhaps to an untrained ear, all purrs seem the same. But to another mrem, a sad purr is as different to a happy purr like a sob to a giggle.
A soft purr whispered in her ear. Kat looked up, startled, for she did not even notice anyone next to her. A shadowy mrem with a sombre ring around his tail smiled and offered his paw to her.
She reached out and took it, following the mrem to a Pawn Shop. He then sneaked through a small door, taking Kat with him.
Blinking, her cat-eyes adjusted almost immediately to the darkness of the room. The room was dark lit only by four candles: one in each corner. The walls, floor and ceiling were made from paneled wood shining with a thick glaze. An nstructor slipped in and out of the shadows showing students how to sneak and steal. Targets and straw dummies hung on the walls covered with embedded daggers in vital areas.
"Learn all you can, dear Kat." the shadowy mrem said. "Learn to take care of yourself. They are the best you can learn from."
Kat nodded slowly, afterall, what else could she do? She was alone, lost and but a kitten. And now, she had found a friend and a teacher.
Within days, she was a languid sleek female mrem. Her fur is midnight blue and neatly groomed, with a small patch of white just at tip of her left back paw.She moves around slowly, her large blue eyes wide open and sharp ears twitching ever so slightly. Completely relaxed and always at ease, her long limbs are slightly muscled. Her face is pleasant (for a mrem), with a small triangular black nose above a mouth perpetually curled into a grin. Tiny white fangs peek out from her lips, giving her an almost sinister look. Almost, if she did not grin as much as she does. She smells slightly of catnip.
She was now a lithe young female mrem with midnight blue fur.
Now to find her family.
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