Harvests

A friend has shared his experiences regarding study and examination priorities recently. I admit freely now, that I was similarly afflicted with single-mindedness. I too, studied Alchemy, though I abandoned it quickly enough, once I felt that I had sufficient knowledge for my purposes. Numeromancy I tolerated for two years, ere I cut myself free of that drudgery. It was Druidic Studies that consumed my nights and days, though I will be first to admit that I no longer apply what I have learnt at my present post.


Truly, many of my colleagues have wondered (aloud and loudly in my presence) why I had chosen that specialty to begin with. After all, I had long ago intended to return to my place here in the Watch, before I left for my studies. My answer has been, remains and in all probability will remain, that I had chosen thus for the sake of Art.

For clarity, I mean Art, not The Art. It is Leonardo, Rafello, Gaudi, Rembrandt, Edward Burne-Jones and their Brotherhood that has inspired me for most of my life. Music is a great comfort, of course, and food is a pleasure in itself. But the paintings, and other works, of these Masters that make my heart beat a little faster, make my breath catch in my throat, and bring a tear to my eye. Once I sought to join their ranks, but I have learnt that this ambition far, far outstripped what meagre talent I possessed. Nevertheless, I have knelt for four years, as the Indigo Girls have sung, prostrating myself to the higher mind, though certainly not for the sake of that singular piece of paper. At least, that had not been my primary purpose.

Some have argued that I should have studied Art then, rather than the Mysteries of the Druids, had I been so enamoured with it. Yet, I knew myself better than most men know themselves, even at a young age. To force deadlines and regular peformance upon myself was to slowly but surely erode what love or interest I had in any particular subject. I enjoyed my small triumphs and lofty goals in that field to impose any regiment upon it. Hence I chose something else:

Druidic Studies involved some practices that border upon necromancy, but this same discipline allowed me to gain much knowledge regarding the structure of the bodies of animals, and in relation, understand the corresponding bits and pieces of Man. While I was strongly attracted to this, I came to find myself fascinated with plants, how they related to their environment, and how did they produce growth using naught but air and water? My quest for this knowledge came upon me quietly, and quite by surprise. After all, most of my time had been spent in drawing small but detailed diagrams of common, and not so common plants, that exist upon this isle, and learning to differentiate them. A chance to practice my art, at least. This practice also gave rise to other chances, in another sense: a great many acquaintances learned of my skill and took pains to borrow my diagrams to make copies. I like to think that I loaned them out regardless of fear or favour, but the truth was that more women than men borrowed my work. My wife, indeed, was one of those who approached me with greater frequency than others.

Our courtship was a cautious thing: I was not certain if she was merely be friendly because of my art, or was my art merely an excuse for her to become more friendly. I was young, of course, and the difference made a difference to me then. Were I able to give advice to my younger self, I would have told me to get over it, and just enjoy the moment. And her company, of course!

Looking at it all, one might say that the harvest that I received for my efforts did not disappoint:

Primus: I got my paper, which mattered to my family and helped to open doors where I was employed. It was not so much what one studied, but that one had studied, after all. The Service has a mysterious and convoluted logic in its hiring methods, no doubt a result of its equally complex and somewhat inscrutable history. (One can often learn what took place and how it took place, but not exactly why it took place that way.)

Secundus: I gained the perspective that I so greatly desired. My art improved because of it, I like to think. Ironic, of course, that I seldom have the time to pick up my brushes. I have learned to differentiate between good and great art, particularly in popular cultural works from the Empire of the Sun, the Fragrant Harbour and parts of the Middle Kingdom. It has enriched my life, if naught else.

Tertius: I have gained the company of a lovely woman, who has, in greater or lesser portions, tolerated my eccentricities over the past decade (more if you count our courtship), and borne me a lovely daughter. A more obstinate, mischievous and happy child I have not seen. But not a great surprise, when I consider my own childhood, and that of my wife.

A bountiful harvest indeed.

Quiz

I had promised myself to make an effort at polishing my swords, so I had to keep myself awake long enough for my daughter to go to sleep. Don't want her wandering into the room with naked steel and polish strewn across the floor, after all. So I found myself going through a handful of blogs - just the usual suspects. In one of them, rather well-known for comments on books, I found the quiz below. It was one that I have known about but had not taken yet. So .....

Discworld: Which Ankh-Morpork City Watch Character are YOU?

Commander Sir Samuel Vimes
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Ha! Was there ever any doubt?

The Road Goes Ever On

I have just been reminded that I am due to make a journey, to the Beautiful Land, no less. Not of my own account do I travel there. Indeed, I do not lightly travel - loads of luggage! That's the way I do it! It is a flaw in my character, I suppose, and quite besides the point. The crux of the matter is that I have been tasked to make this voyage. Which means work there, and more work when I return. Not to mention the work that I would have done had I not gone.

A deluge of work awaits.

Sigh!

So to the State of Virgins I must go. From all that I have heard, there is absolutely nothing to do there, and nothing to see. Well, the last is not exactly true: there is some exhibition of sorts, pertaining to the uprising against the Sceptred Isle. A decisive battle, it is claimed. But I shall not let my spirits be uplifted by this small thing, for fear that I shall be dissappointed as I usually am, by the loud claims and bombast of the Eagle people.

Nor do I expect other recreation. All I can pray for is a suitably endowed library. And perhaps, some(?) alcohol. I wonder what are the rules regarding drunkeness? I shall have to find out before I go.

Boredom, in all likelihood, beckons.

Double sigh!

But wait, there is one more nail to hammer home: the period that I am to be away coincides with my wedding anniversary!

I fear my wife shall not look kindly upon me when I break this news. Those of you who were witnesses to that happy(?) event shall undoubtedly remember that this year marks the tenth that I have been wed. I have been planning for some small celebration - provisions have been made to have my sister babysit. Now, it seems all has gone awry. What good can come out of this now? I am despondent.

Pray for me, my friends.

Beyond sighing.

Objects of Desire

A moon ago, when my coffers were suddenly flush with the largesse of the Hegemon, I found myself wandering the stores of the City, staring at what trinkets they had to offer. Indeed, it was a good time to peruse their wares, for there was some collusion amongst the storekeepers to lower their prices, in anticipation of the proclaimed rise in taxes. People were out in droves, seeking to spend their coin ere it was taken away.

It was at one of the many shops that lined the King's Road by the Old Beach, when the flash of honed steel caught my eye. Like many others who profess a love of the Arts Martial, I have always been susceptible to the lure of metalwork. Long swords, in particular those of the style of the Empire of the Sun, have ever been my weakness. So when I saw what was displayed in the window of that shop, I found myself striding within, even before I was aware of it. The message had missed my mind altogether, traveling from eye to feet in a moment.

The youth who tended the store was courteous and his welcome grew warmer still when my knowledge of weapons became apparent. The Swords of the Sun Kings were popular, and recent works by popular authors had only increased their desireability. We had a rather animated discussion regarding the strengths and weaknesses of those blades described in these works, particularly the massive two-handed swords: one wielded by a certain white-haired villain while the other, with a black blade, that belonged to an orange-haired student. Having replicas of these weapons available in the shop only encouraged our exchange, of course.

But in the end, I could not be diverted from my original purpose. As I have stated before, the Swords of the Sun Kings were my weakness. Three weapons did I remove from their stands and brandished to measure their length and weight. The heaviest of the trio was also the shortest. It had a thick blade, though it was not as wide as those of the other two. The second had a blade of folded steel, which I hold to be the most beautiful. The last, however, was unique in the fact that it did not have a guard.

I desired them all, I will freely admit. But I was loath to purchase all three, and not because of the paucity of my purse. Indeed, the generosity of the Hegemon had been great this last moon. However, my time was limited, as was the amount of space that was readily available in my rather meagre room:

Weapon-steel was hard to maintain, requiring a substantial amount of care and work to maintain them in their bright, polished state. They needed to be cleaned daily, and coated with oil or wax after each cleaning. Possessing two other swords of weapon-grade steel, I knew that I could, at most, upkeep one more blade. Thus, I found myself agonizing over which of the trio I should buy. Those who know of my other interests will see the reference to another swordsman, who also happens to be a pirate. Fortunately for me, I do not suffer from his inability to navigate even the simplest of towns.

Eventually, I made my decision. The latest of my acquisitions now graces the shelf next to its brethren, waiting as they do, for a time that I may fulfill the purpose for which they were made. Like any true swordsmen, I am resolved to meet death and mete death. But I also hope that such a time shall never come.

But which of them did I purchase, you ask.

Well, I shall reveal that shortly....

More Distraction

Only half done, thus far. Yet, in the midst of it all, I find myself wondering at the sort of music that has caught my attention over these last few years:

The Middle Kingdom series, wherein some traditional pieces of music were 'translated', for want of a better word, into something more suited to western tastes. The result was quirky and somewhat soothing. It was like watching The Avatar and its variant martial arts references, or a version of The Monkey King dubbed in irreverant street American (English would have been too rigid, I think).

Any road, the music of the series, together with Howard Shore's LOTR music, sit in the same compartment of my matrix, rubbing elbows with Hans Zimmer's Gladiator, Harry Gregson-Williams' Kingdom of Heaven, Tan Dun's Hero, and the songs of Dead Can Dance. An unusual combination, however one looks at it.

It will probably get worse.

A Quiet Distraction

For the last six days, I have been feverishly compiling every single scrap of music that I possess, scribing all into a portable matrix. Why I have begun to do this, and for what purpose, remains a veritable mystery. Am I driven to this madness for want of suitable diversion at work? Have I singled-out this particular part of my life to clear of clutter? Or is this merely reaction, against a sudden realization of age and a need to make sense of the chaos that had dominated the decades past?

I have found, though the activity of these last six days, that for all that my musical taste has altered over the years, there are a few constants: I enjoyed soundtracks immensely as a student and continue to enjoy them now. Nanci Griffith was the one country singer-songwriter that I admire, and her songs are still relevant to me now. Tori Amos, Alanis Morissette, Suzanne Vega. These ladies attracted me to their music with their passionate, and painful, lyrics almost two decades ago. I have listened as their styles changed and I still find their lyrics evocative and provocative. Enya and Loreena McKennitt both sooth and inspire me. Painting or drawing to their work seems to bring out greater passion and hunger in my work. But my favourite remains unchanged, to this day, some thirty years after I first heard what I deem the scariest piece of music in my youth: Wuthering Heights. Kate Bush has never failed to surprise me. Or scare me senseless. Or lull me into a hopelessly romantic mood.

I cannot explain the last. Perhaps this is the reason why most of my friends consider me somewhat insane.