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| Articles: At the Gates |
Posted by
Dolorosa on Monday, November 07, 2005 - 09:58 AM PST
There used to be heroes that walked this world. Men and women of such majesty and singular power that where they walked, the ground trembled and others followed behind them instinctively or fell before them like wheat.
People of surpassing beauty and grace, that set standards for asthete that endure even to the now, with our twisted focus on emaciation. Men of such strength that they could literally slay giants, women of such cunning and perserverance that they could trick gods and held fate in their own hands.
There were once people, actual people of such grandeur and greatness that the only way a simple man could comprehend them was to relegate them to a status apart from mortality and usher them into godhood. There were heroes.
Queens that led nations not out of fear or political manipulation but out of wisdom and fervent undying loyalty. Men who could lead armies, weak, small and tired...to storm the gates of the greatest city of the world. No culture in the world is without their heroes. Xenobia, Solomon, Hiawatha (Owathu), Hannibal, Heracles, Rongo, Musashi, Qing, Quetzacoatle and Iesu. Names that ring with power. Sometimes these entities were as terrible as they were glorious, often times both. Anansi the spider king, Hanuman, Rakshasa, Kumo, Baba Yaga, Coyote and the Skin Dancer. These things were real...even if they were only stories told by bored or drunken old men before their children, they were real. For to give it a name is to make it real...that is the gift of our species. We are the namers, and we have, in the past, named heroes.
Where now then are our giants of the earth? Striding across epic battlefields? Calling out in voices to pull the stars down from the heavens or race across the oceans of the world to catch the tear of a fallen friend? Where is our Gilgamesh, our trusty Enkidu? Where are those with the heart and courage of Orpheus, the overwhelming daring and forsight of Pandora? Heh...locked in the silver screen, played by half-wit hacks. Raping ancient stories of gods and men for a couple pieces of paper, stealing oboli from the ferryman, sucking the lifesblood of our collective souls. Alexander the Great was one of my personal heroes, right up there with Genghis and Kublai Khan, now he's just a bad review.
These things were real! These things are real! They are without time, they are without entropy, so unlike anything else. In our hearts and in our dreams these things still exist. Hannibal still marches, Genghis still builds an empire, The Rainbow Serpent is still creating! They have not stopped. They have only been ignored, lost to unseeing and uncaring eyes. Where then oh lamenting friends are our heroes?
I have searched, I have lived and lost my life in countless stories, told by fireside, coffee-table, breakrooms and bus-stops. I have discovered that in these days, Mountain breakers and fire-tamers have not in fact disappeared. They are still here, though they have lost themselves, as we have lost ourselves.
I have seen a Carthaginian stand before Rome at a retail outlet and tell him that he would suffer no more.
I have seen Jack the Giant Killer step in a slay a monster at Wallmart.
I have watched Brunhilde step down and lay out such grace and wisdom that even drunken teenagers had to stop and reconsider themselves.
And always I have seen Coyote laugh behind the eyes of anyone who could suffer and find the humor in it.
...I'm also fairly positive that Lillith gave me my coffee the other day at Starbucks.
There are monsters too of course, but I've already told you all about those.
They are out there. Our heroes are not dead, nor are they lost to us. They are, they live and they always will. It is up to us though, as people, as namers, to realize this. You know these people, perhaps you are one of these people, I can name a few I have met even here. It is to you I charge to name them as heroes. When the opportunity is appropriate, look to them and let them know. Don't miss it when someone goes into the underworld for your drum...the words and settings may be alien, or perhaps too familiar...but they are unimportant as to the actual event.
There are heroes, and we know them.
I for one must recognize a heroine of utmost standing. A woman who has suffered, and has drank deeply from sorrows. A woman I know who has had darkened times and known loneliness. A woman who despite all these things still believes in Faeries, because she knows them. A woman who has caught a rare star that fell from the heavens, caught it in her hand before it hit the ground and keeps it safe and shining brightly. That star reflects her brilliant smile and in it are joys and the voyages of a dreamer and wisewoman. She is always a hero to me, a starcatcher.
Happy birthday, albiet belated, my heroine.
Go, and tell those you know to be heroes that they are. We are the namers.
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| Note: As a pre-note to this, I didn't read Callei's last post until just before I decided to submit this. But I believe this not to be derogitory of what she has said...but in fact quite possibly supplementary. |
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Average Rating : 4.2
Total ratings : 5
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| At the Gates | Login/Create an account | 8 Comments |
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Re: At the Gates
by Monolycus on Nov 08, 2005 - 12:57 PM
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"Sad is the nation without heroes, but not as sad as the nation that needs them." -Bertolt Brecht.
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Re: At the Gates
by Psychopixi (psychopixi.at.hotmail.com)
on Nov 22, 2005 - 09:19 AM
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This really is true. I get sad sometimes thinking of what the world used to be like, and why it can't be the same any more, but there can still be heroes, you're right. It's not all bad, and not all the children's stories have gone away yet.
And they -definitely- need to be told that we recognise their hero-ness.
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