14 June 2010

The Thief

Robin Hood . . . a man, an idea - a thief. I have recently finished my first version of Robin Hood - which I thoroughly enjoyed - and am now moving on to the next chapter in the saga.

The folktale has been turned by many different authors into successful novels all of which I am planning on reading. Once the bug bites you you want to read everything ever written about this famous man, Mr. Robin of Locksley.

I have always adored the Robin Hood tales. A story about someone so brave and dashing . . . I cannot but be enthralled. The countless renditions of this classic story through music, media and books proves that people have always found Robin Hood fascinating.

What have people through the ages found so gripping? Was it that he was one of the first people bequeathed Super Hero status? Or perhaps that while he considered himself above the law, he still used his awesomeness to help the poor instead of using his "powers" for his own gain? Or was it that he stood against the tyrant Prince John and did what he could to halt the growing of John's power by stealing the people back their taxes?

I believe that the appeal of Robin Hood is different for everyone. Some people probably just appreciate the love story between Maid Marian and Robin (I know I do) while others find in it a fulfilling philosophical argument - is it right to steal from the rich to give to the poor if the rich are taxing the poor right to their graves?

Everything in it draws me to the story, from the dashing and honorable Robin, to the beautiful and good Marian. The loyal Much and Will Scarlett, to the evil and unscrupulous Sheriff of Nottingham. The characters are timeless . . .

Robin Hood is a myth. . . but his tale could very well be true. His story of love and loss, honor and thievery is very likely based on truth of the times. Who is to say that in Sherwood there was not once a man named Robin Hood, who with his band of Merry Men made life for the poor of Nottingham a little easier, and stood with all of this heart against the tyranny of John . . .

P.S. - Ms. Hawkins I am SO sorry that your comment never got shown! I accidentally pushed "reject" instead of "publish". Please forgive me! It was an honest error. You comment was very encouraging! Thank you for reading!

Enchanted Etymologist

21 March 2010


(See below for explanation)

The Death of Logos

The spirit . . . the mind – how different are these two entities which inhabit the human psyche? The essence of the human – I am, I think, I will – is found in the mind. Most scholars would agree that the “spirit” or “soul” is the core of humanity. But isn’t the mind the core? It is with the mind that we think, feel, and create.
If the mind – the essence of “I” – is broken there is no longer an individual. The great “We” reigns supreme and there is no reason to have either guards or locks at the Palace of Corrective Detention. The mind – the will, the spirit – is broken. A being not capable of thought has no will, and thus is unable to act. To such a being self preservation means nothing, there is no self to preserve.
The person who has surrendered to the indoctrination of “We” has no desire to act in discordance of the whole. To this person that is all there is, the overwhelming desires of We. “I” has no place in the thoughts of the mindless. Persons with no will have no need of prison bars to hold them; they have tethered themselves by surrendering their ability to think. The creative thought which would make escape possible has been executed on the altar of the majority. The Council has nothing to fear – the prisoners have no desire to escape.
When will is surrendered along with conscious selfish thought the desire to live also perishes. What kind of existence is a life free of “I”? If there is no me to begin with, then the truth of the matter is that “I” am already dead, and a dead man needs not fear anything. The lone prisoner does not know to fear death, for what is death to him? He is not a person, not an individual. He does not exist – only “We”, and if “We” wills it then he is subject to the whim of “We”.
There is nothing to fear in death to the dead man, the only thing that he must fear is life. Living without a mind, a mindless existence, is a life that no man would – should – wish for; unable to act, to desire, to love, to think . . . to be. To be free one must have one’s own thoughts, ideas, and beliefs. If the ideas are another’s, then ego is a slave to the other’s superior mind. The thoughts must be owned, the desires personal. The majority may desire something – that does not bequeath it with goodness.
The prisoners have no will and no identity. The question raised – by the absolute void of will and inability to action – is why there are any locks at all. If the prisoner has no will, reason, or inclination to escape why go to the – fairly futile – effort of securing rusty locks? The answer can be found in the survival instinct humanity possess. When faced with dire straits – where death is imminent – life will break forth. The instinct to survive – even if there is no sense of self – remains intact. The fear of pain, the terror that the final death of the body holds for creatures awakens the latent and instinctive fear of death.
Though the prisoner may have a strong urge to save the body from pain, the lock on the door prevents him from attaining this goal. He lacks the creative and innovative thought necessary to formulate a plan at escape. The surrender which forbids him conscious thought has signed his death warrant and he is helpless to thwart the sentence.
Being carried away in the mob of majority is comfortable. In the crowd there is no pressure to make choices and thus no fear of mistakes. Thought – logic – is hard. It is bleak, sad and lonely . . . but if humanity does not use its soul – its mind – what are we but cattle? Cattle are beasts led by the wind and the grass, shuffled around by forces outside their control. The mind is the most important thing humanity possesses, and a logos – no thought – is the fatal weapon.
Is pleasure preferable to pain if in the bliss of ignorance one loses oneself?

EXPLANTAION: The Ayn Rand Institute hosts an "essay contest" every year for students. The essays are based on one of Ayn Rand's books and - depending on which grade you are in - you are allowed to write and submit one essay on either Anthem (8th, 9th or 10th grade) The Foutainhead (11th and 12th grade) or Atlas Shrugged which is for college students, graduate students and/or anyone who is "re-attending" college. I read Anthem - a good, if disturbing, book - and wrote an essay. My prompt for this paper was - "The old locks and lack of guards in the Palace of Corrective Detention indicate that prisoners never try to escape. Why do you think they do not? Explain." This might help you better understand the content! Hope you enjoyed. . .

03 January 2010

Slumber Party Fun!

See below for an explanation of this story. . .

Death and Truth

It is so interesting this time we live in, you and I. So different from the ancient world in which I grew up. That place has now passed beyond myth and legend. No one knows the true story of the gods, how they came to be, what was their purpose. But I can tell you all you could ever wish to find out. Open your minds and discover the Truth.

Everything you know is a lie, now that is a very un-promising way to begin a tale, which I well know, but it is the Truth and you had best live with it. You think Zeus was King of the gods of Olympus and Hera was his cold-hearted Queen - hah - those days are long since past. The only power in this world is death. Everything, even the gods, tremble before it. It despises those who would try to outwit it such as Heracles and Theseus. Have you guessed yet who I am? Let me clue you in to my little secret. I am the consort of the most handsome and ruthless god of all. He is cold and majestic in his wrath and only those he favors can stand against death's boundless call. I am Persephone - the iron Queen - and this, is my story. . .

I met Hades when I was a scant score of years or so. He was enticing - as all bad boys tend to be - and I fell hard and fast for him. . .the Truth of the matter was he had no idea that I existed. My mother had hidden me from the court on Olympus. Even Zeus - at that time the strongest of us - did not guess at my existence. How to get him to notice me? That was the question, and it was soon solved with a visit to Hecate and a few favors from Aphrodite. I would put aside my divine splendour for three days, and during that time - I had to die.

It was a simple plan made even more devious by the fact that I knew certain things from my mother - simple things she let drop easily - such as the fact that Hermes was off chasing a wood nymph around Croatia and had been abandoning his his duties as chaperone of mortals to the otherside, resulting in Hades, the lovely Death god himself, being subjected to this job. I soon put my plan into effect , for, finding a willing family to take me in and pretend I was their daughter (for the promise of fruitful crops that year) I swallowed the potion that would strip me of my immortality and fell into a stupor.

I cannot explain what it was like to be dead. . .it was strange. I could look down on myself from a great height. I am not sure where exactly I was during that time, Olympus or Uranus, but I saw Hades come to me, saw him stare into my sightless eyes - I saw the split second in time, suspended as I was out of it, when his cold, dead heart melted and he fell in love with me. I had won! But still he did not know that I was a goddess.

He carried me down into the depths of the Earth and laid me in a bed of silk and satin. For two days he searched for something to revive me, but even Hades cannot release someone from Thantos grip once he has them and for those two days he was hopelessly and helplessly lost. He plunged into the depths of depression, swore to his Furies that he would die himself without me.

I almost lost him that day - the day of my resurrection. He had the dagger, tipped with dragon's blood, ready to plunge into his heart when I awoke and stopped him. You will never begin to imagine the wonder that filled his eyes, he still thanks Thantos everyday, though I explained everything to him. And that is how I caught the Lord of Death - a love story to rival Helen's, eh? Zeus is dead and gone, as are Hera, Lord Poseidon and Demeter, but Hades and I live on.. . .the only beings that Death cannot touch. . .


On New Year's Eve I had a very fun slumber party with some of my special friends. We stayed up until four O'clock the next morning (New Year's Day) and one of the fun things we did was write some stories in a time constraint. As you know if you read my blog often I have written under a time constraint before, but this time was different. My friend (who knows me well) gave to me the challenge of creating a Greek Myth. At first I did not want to attempt such a feat (Greek Myths in their splendour are - as far as I am concerned - above reproach or change). I told my friend this and said that I would just write about something else. . .then I got to thinking about two of my favorite characters in mythology. I scrapped the story I had been writing instead of my own personal Myth and started this interesting tale - I hope you enjoyed it!

*DISCLAIMER* - this is a fun story made purely for enjoyment. . .the facts of the Greek Myths have been changed to fit my plot. This is a raw story that has not been edited so it could definitely be better. . .