Three days in February .... day three

I assume most men are searching for "she" -- and, most men probably never find her, although some actually do, including the gentleman holding the dagger in the illustration. The image here is in two parts, the lower right corner being a portion of a cover from Henry Rider Haggard's work of fiction, "SHE," first published in serial form in 1886-87. The larger segment is an advertisement from a 1965 film adaption of the novel, whose cast included Ursula Andress as Ayesha and John Richardson as Leo. The sinister looking fellow between them is Christopher Lee, who portrayed Bilali, a rather evil priest. What follows is a review neither of the book nor of the film, but simply a few words alluding to an instance of everlasting or, in the least, long-lasting love. To conclude this post, I originally had another song from Boston -- three linked posts + three Boston songs -- but changed it to Queen's, "Who Wants to Live Forever," played by David Garrett. It seemed to better fit the mood.

The search for "she" .... or, the long wait 

(Editor's Note: This is the final of three related posts I plan to run this week. If there is to be a fourth, it will come later.)

Does anyone have such a companion ??

Someone to die for ....

Someone who they reveal their deepest fears to, someone who they tell their deepest dreams to, someone who they can explain each and every secret they possess to, someone who they can trust with their life? Perhaps, it is only me who has never discovered someone to be their companion who thinks enough of themselves to put elements like jealousy or envy or personal ambitions aside.

Large houses, fast cars, beautiful companions, endless beaches with white sand and blue water might be the dreams and desires of some men (even of most, and have crossed my mind in a sideways manner) -- but, a pretty face; a sweet smile; an intelligent, intellectual, curious mind; and a real lady (liberal feminist, fine; radical feminist, no way) and an "afraid of nothing" attitude is my dream girl. Do you know her ?? Then, introduce me to "she."

For the uninitiated, "SHE," is a novel written in 1886-87 by Henry Rider Haggard. The setting is the uncharted African interior. Horace Holly and Leo Vincey are searching for the ancient, lost city of Kor. "She" is Ayesha, an Arabic sorceress, who has waited more than two thousand years in Kor for the return of Kallikrates, a Greek she loved and murdered in a fit of jealous rage. Ayesha believes Leo to be the reincarnated Kallikrates. He is, in fact, a descendant. Ayesha wishes Leo/Kallikrates to join her in immortality, but she does not survive the method to accomplish this "process." As Ayesha dies, she tells Leo/Kallikrakes: "Forget me not. I shall come again!" Sorry .... if you want to know more, you will have to read the book.

It could be I am an insatiable romantic and this is my own interpretation (or imitation) of Perceval or of Galahad and my search for sort of a "holy grail."

Or not ....

It could be the reason I search for "she" is because I know she is impossible, I know she does not exist, I know that if she ever has been real, we have not been together on the same plane or in an identical time of existence. Seeking someone who never was and never will be ensures my freedom forever.

No, it is the first. I really am fool enough to hope to find her .... even possibly .... actually .... believe we will come together in the here and now.

Anyway, companionship really comes with trust and talk .... and leaves without them ....

Now, why did I write that last sentence ??

Is there an allegory here ??

With the story "SHE" ??

No, no chance of that ....

"Who waits forever anyway?"

Even for one who .... "Will come again."

Three days in February .... day two

January was not completely occupied by business -- unfinished or otherwise. I purchased two more guns. One is shown here, a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) in .300 Winchester Magnum caliber, a cartridge introduced in 1963. The caliber is popular among elk, moose, bighorn sheep and grizzly bear hunters, and among police and military snipers. Since I am none of them, why did I purchase it? Simply because I have always wanted a rifle in that caliber. Actually, it is the fourth BAR I have owned, each in a different caliber. This one was made in Belgium in 1981. The other January purchase has not arrived yet. It is a Smith & Wesson .41 magnum revolver. The caliber has been around since 1964, and this revolver was made about the same time. I have not pinpointed the exact date of manufacture yet. This is a caliber with more than a little mystique in the realm of dedicated "shooters" among the firearms community. Sort of like the .38 Super I bought last November -- calibers that draw faithful followers. As if you really are interested .... anyway .... I will, undoubtedly, photograph it for a future post. I also would suggest you learn more about firearms; I do not know about Girl Scouts, but the Boy Scout motto is, "Be Prepared." And, I try to be. As for the music, this is my second-favorite Boston piece, and, I think, the guitar work between the "two songs within a song" is the most beautiful guitar work ever, ever, ever, ever ....

Contrary to some

(Editor's Note: This is the second of three related posts [four, possibly] I plan to run this week.)

Contrary to the beliefs of some (probably most), the more I learn, the less I know.

I wonder about people who "know" they have all the answers.

By this, I do not mean people who have certain beliefs and codes and standards and a structured manner of living their lives. I think I have/do those things myself. Faith and belief, for instance, are not the same as claiming absolute knowledge.

What I do mean are people who are absolute socialists or communists or Democrats or Republicans or Nazis or Christians or atheists or Muslims or existentialists or Jungians or nihilists or .... well, I could go on and on, but I think you get my drift. How can anyone be an absolute believer -- a devotee -- to any single, narrow, unequivocal viewpoint?

I think the staff of life is personal experience, and the more experience I gain, the more these single, narrow, unequivocal viewpoints seem to reveal not a thesis for living, but an antithesis .... an excuse to stop learning/experiencing .... a desire to be "the man on the silver mountain" .... a delusion of .... yes, a delusion of being someone special, someone endowed with uncommon insight ....

 At times in my life I have idolized and read everything I could find written by people like Arthur Schopenhauer, Bertrand Russell, Jean-Paul Sartre, Carl Jung, Will Durant, Joseph Campbell .... well, I could go on and on (sound familiar?), but, possibly, some of you get my drift.

The bottom line, to me, is that while having read endlessly at times no doubt has been beneficial and the concepts of others have served sort of as road signs and building blocks along the way, no books, no words by others no matter how brilliant or wise can replace experience. And, experience tells me the more I learn the less I know and understand about myself and about life and about those around me and about the universe in which we exist .... but, I still am searching, learning, wondering .... sometimes leaping without looking ....

Experience, give me more and more and more, which largely comes through living/working in new worlds or by adventures alone or with other individuals -- not from sight-seeing excursions or, sadly, from flights into the fiction or fantasy written by some and read by others who live lives of quiet desperation .... and, certainly not from listening to those who "absolutely know" all the answers.

And, I am beginning to think the blogs no longer serve me a purpose .... if they ever did ....

Three days in February .... day one

I believe I can safely say there is a link between my words and the musical selection, "Peace of Mind," by Boston, but I am not so certain I could bring the photograph into the fold, so to speak. The photo is of the Guthrie Theater and its "Endless Bridge" in Minneapolis. I returned home late Saturday after having been absent more than one-half of December and one-half of January, and immediately sought a security blanket in the form of purchasing tickets for February performances of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare at the Guthrie. "Macbeth" is my favorite from the pen of our old friend, probably because it was the first of Shakespeare's plays that I read, and read while still an impressionable boy. The photo is not mine and, obviously, was taken before the arrival of winter. By the way, if you are in the mood and of the mind to impress one-hundred fifty or thereabouts of your closest friends, the "Endless Bridge" is available for hosting cocktail parties. It offers views of the Mississippi River, Saint Anthony Falls and a number of historic sites.

Peace of mind

(Editor's Note: This post is that which I had planned to run between Christmas and New Year's Day, but set aside for another. It is the first of three [or, maybe, four] which are tied together in a sense, and which I will publish this week.)

I have been a few places and done more than a few things in my life. I am pleased with occasionally saying (including in posts here) that I had done everything there was to do in one form or another, in one sense or another, by the time I was twenty-five. It is true.

There has come a point in my life where I wonder if any of it was worth it. Some people call this a mid-life crisis. Another thing I am fond of saying is that I have been experiencing mid-life crises every year since I was sixteen. Really. Sort of ....

True love, physical love: I really am not sure I ever have known the first; I have the second.

Death and destruction: In spades, so to speak. Multiple times for multiple reasons in multiple places.

Personal losses: Grandparents, parents, friends, a child, yes .... a former wife? That is one of the questions at the moment, which is a dilemma for several reasons.

Success and failure in business and work? Oh, yes. I have been at a peak a few times and fallen to the point where everyone and anyone I knew kissed me goodbye. I think, in most instances, we are alone .... completely alone in this life.

I could continue, but I think you get my point. Some people say I am too sarcastic. I suppose I am -- for them. I think, actually, I might be too realistic; I do not attempt to delude myself or others, or try to be "nice" to people simply to make them feel good about themselves. (I believe that is being a phony, and I am not among those kind, nor ever would want to be.)

I more than once have written in posts that I am looking for a woman who is attractive to me, who likes to talk/debate/argue/discuss books/films/politics/anything, but also one who is afraid of nothing and who will watch my back in any and every way you might imagine .... and never run away from anything, especially from me. (Annie Oakley, maybe ?? Joan of Arc ?? Bonnie Parker ??)

(As you finish this, remember, I wrote it more than a month ago. It might be "last call" before I disappear, in a manner of speaking.)

 Still looking, as this year ends. This might not be the most appropriate post to end the old year and to begin a new one, but, remember .... well, think about it and draw your own conclusions: One of my "names" is curious; another is confused, and, probably always will be ....

Thinking about fear, I have mentioned before that I am the type who runs toward the sound of gunfire, not away from it, but we all have fears of one sort or another, and one of mine has been an inability to be completely open and honest with my companion when I have had one.

This has been a reiteration, not an introduction ....

Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill ....

Dance into the fire

I have been away from home for a week and two days (Why not say "for nine days" .... why not ??), and I am not certain when I will be returning there. This venture might be described as "unfinished business." Without further adieu, I decided to issue a post of sorts today -- January 24 -- because it is the anniversary of me becoming a U.S. Marine. (A dance into the fire .... it seemed like a good idea at the time ....) To mark the event here this year, I have selected a painting entitled, "Battle of Nassau," by V. Zveg. This engagement was among the first by the Continental Navy and Marine Corps, and the first-ever amphibious landing by U.S. Marines. The assault on New Providence Island in the Bahamas took place on March 3, 1776. The Marines captured Fort Montagu and the town of Nassau, which were under British control. The purpose of the raid was to take British munitions needed by the Continental Army in the struggle for American independence. The music here is a strange mix no matter how you consider it: First, one of the James Bond themes, "A View to a Kill," from the Bond 50th Anniversary Gala Concert .... love the song, love singer Lance Ellington's voice and style, love the gold coat and unfettered enthusiasm of director Carl Davis .... you figure the rest. Next, "Ya Zdes" (I'm Here) .... love Valery Kipelov's voice, love Victor Smolski's fiery shirt and even more fiery guitar work .... you figure the rest .... hmmmm .... whatever .... semper fi, baby ....

 

I am embarrassed .... how about you ??

I guess since this was not a fund raiser or an opportunity to display his so-called oratorical brilliance, it was not an important enough event for Barack Obama to attend. You know him, the president-when-he-is-in-the-mood-for-it of the United States? This was the march by an estimated 1.5 million people along the Boulevard Voltaire in Paris, France, in a demonstration Sunday meant to illustrate the power of unity and freedom of expression over the barbarism of Islamic fanaticism and terror. With seventeen victims dead in France, French President François Hollande, arm-in-arm with German Chancellor Angela Merkel and flanked by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas and a host of European and African leaders led the march. Some say they understand why Emperor Obama was not present, but admit he should not have prevented the vice president, the secretary of state or even the attorney general, who actually already was in Paris, to take part in this expression of sympathy for the victims and outrage at the perpetrators. I am not so generous. I am angered and embarrassed. I think Obama -- any U.S. president, no matter what his name -- should have been in the midst of the march and that his absence is just one more demonstration that Obama has no character, no dignity, no intestinal fortitude, no moral integrity and is an absolute megalomaniac. Beyond his failures as a man, as a leader, as a president, at some point someone will have to become hard core vs. the assorted "barbarians at the gates." Maybe, that will happen now, but do not count on an Obama Administration to lead the way. Incidentally, the photograph comes from AFP/Getty Images. I hope they will forgive me for "borrowing it" as a professional courtesy to someone who spent sixteen years here and there as a journalist, and had some super "journalistic moments" running alongside some super photographers. I would have loved to have been in Paris for this event, both as a journalist and as a human being. As for the music, here are a singer and a painter who, unlike most alive today, understood while they lived and, as the "Old Greeks" once knew, that art = the creation of beauty.