II : L - LII The Importance of Being On the Road – Harold, Kino, and Pi

Underneath the canopy of the witnesses of history, you can't help but think about the world in an entirely different longitude. A young lord's idle journey across the ocean and continents, similar versions of which has been performed by aspiring youth everywhere trying to find themselves in the unfamiliar wilderness of foreign countries, found him a new understanding of the world as an entity, a living, breathing organization rather than an instrument that we exploit and excavate.

It's a dangerous occupation going on the road, truly going on the road, that is. A little tour in gap years on the cruise line, a merry-on-round with the comfort of luxurious inns and fancy entourages, those don't count. The act of putting oneself out and exposed to the world calls for courage and a lot of endurance. Many of those individuals are timelessly and universally admired, for they fulfilled a buried dream of most of us: to become more in tune with the world around us, to see more, to expand our lives and jump out of the mundane case we live in every day.

It's also a privileged occupation going on the road. How fortunate it would be to explore, whether you're put on the journey by choice or by chance. 

"There world is not beautiful," said Kino on her scooter, "therefor it is." I can't prove it, you just have to see it for yourself.

 

Harold, and Kino, and Pi. The three of them are of all different nationalities and beliefs, coming from idiosyncratic backgrounds and are put on the road by fate. Such is a new kind of monomyth: a hero's singular journey in pursuit of self-discovery. Harold saw mostly the ruins and skeletons of the past; his gear was a wealth of history, with which he discovered the similarities and conflicts between worlds, and understood the truth about what human destruction can do to civilizations.

Kino, on the other hand, was exiled from her hometown as a defiant. Determined to see the world instead of being confined in the reclusive village she grew up in, refusing to comply with traditions, she had to go on a path less trotted, hiding her identity. In the story, Kino only stays three days, two nights in each city she passes so that she wouldn't get attached. It's a giant sacrifice not having attachment in life. Harold, disillusioned with his previous situation and aspirations, made similar convictions. In comparison to Harold's relatively easy journey, with entourage and what not, Kino's journey involves with more solitude and calls for independent decisions, and of course, a lot of will power to keep going. 

"The world isn't beautiful, therefor it is. " This sums up what Kino found from her journey. What she found is the imperfection of the world: the evil side of human nature, the conflict-prone societies, the never-ending crimes and vices; yet there's also the angelic side of humanity. This turned out to be a philosophical enlightenment. The peculiar customs and strange encounters Kino had on the road, metaphorically indicates the different cultures in the world. There's no way we can understand them all, but we should still try to accept them. Like the different instruments in a symphony making different sounds individually. They would only create harmony when everyone involved realizes, and honour the diversity amongst themselves.

 

The third solitary hero we have here is Pi, the young Indian child who spent mouths alone in the ocean, battling with his fear and struggling to find ways to co-exist with Richard Parker the tiger.  The tiger is the primal force of destruction. Pi had to be constantly alert so that he doesn't get pull into despair. Harold's journey is more about the past, the natural history of human's interaction with nature; Kino is making an anthropological discovery along the road, going from one fantastical town to another, revealing the raw portraits of an ensemble of the ugly and the cruel. Pi is met with a different kind of challenge. He's making connection with the entire universe through his journey, the only purpose of which was actually to survive! 

 

Yann Martel's novel was more about the strength of spirituality than a real journey in which the hero experience different areas of the world. Although the physical dangers Pi encountered had been incredibly realistic, his journey is the most inward one amongst all three.

Harold, as the literary avatar of Lord Byron, believed in the Greek Muses, sought after the truth of history through poetry. Kino, deprived of her innocence by reality, believed her own will and chased after the freedom of carrying out her own destiny. Pi, prays in all languages believed in the diversity of religions – for him, God is more of a state of mind, an attitude rather than a physical being. The solitary journeys they lead bend time and dimension, connecting those three characters. It's a temping business going on the path of self-discovery. Dangerous, mentally draining and might still eventually leave you completely unfulfilled, yet, its siren song still attracts pilgrims everywhere.

It takes a lot of courage to go on, but the importance of being on the road makes the vices seem ridiculously trivial.

II : XLII - XLIV The Lone Eagle and the Wolfpack

If the land of Greece is a giant, then the Pindus is the spine, standing between Greece and Albania.  There are animals in the wilderness of the mountains. The beautiful Aquila chrysaetos (golden eagle) spreads its wings, swoops down with its sharpened beak, snatching a gray wolf (Canis Lupus) by its neck. Crimes of the natural world keep in check the balance in the animal kingdom. So we forgive the killing, and tell the tales of the lonely hunter and the nomadic travellers. 

And so they became symbols, emblemed on seals and armors, reminding humanity our roots.

The golden eagles, such gorgeous and dangerous species, are wildly admired. They travel alone, and prey on equally capable rivals, like the witty foxes or the cunning wolves. They eye on the target, and never let go once they've set their goals. There are men and women throughout history, fictional or not, who would remind me as the golden eagle: Joyce, eccentric he might have been, was a man of grand ambitions. Inspired by Odysseus, the Irish poet wrote the incomparable Ulysses, hence his self exile got on some pigments of legendary as well. 

T'is most lonesome when you feel a discrepancy in communication. Harold obviously couldn't find understanding from either the Christian or the people on the unknown shore. The golden eagle, although suitably present, the symbol of Albania, is also a universal motif representing a sense of pride, and the loneliness brought upon to that pride. Byron himself was one of those "eagle people": he's learned much from the past, which made him understand how limit he is in making a difference; he walked the walk of a pilgrim in search of art in its purist form. He's lamented the falling of empires in previous lifetimes, and paid homage to the ancient bards who sang the songs of heros and tragedies.  

The wolfpacks are different. They move from one place to another, sweeping across the plains and down the mountains. They're powerless against the eagle but together, they are relentless creatures and have always been feared. They are the embodiment of human's primal desires and violent nature.

There are various misunderstandings with the wolves. They are said to be killers without conscience and yet, they've also been known as foster parents of abandoned children. There are magnificent epic films like Dance with Wolf showing the beauty of the canine and their intimacy with mother nature. There are also tales of a more mythical theme: the werewolves comes with the flight of the night. Their howls under the full moon are the sound of  terror.

Yet I've always pictured the wolfpack in a field of golden corn flowers, their speed swift like wind, going back to their rest. Sometimes they'd disturb the birds, who fly off across the stream, ruffling the quite surface of the water.

They stick to their tribes, with their sets of regulations. They fight amongst themselves although the same species. They rip apart each other's fur, break each other's limbs in combats, trying to secure a bit more of the territory.

Isn't that just like men?

People put up images of animals as their totems, their emblems, their symbols of beliefs. They also create stories of animals with either encouraging messages or serve as warnings, telling children to stay at home, and not to take risks. I wonder how much do the wolfpack remind people of themselves. The kills carry on.

There are always people who are like the golden eagle, flying above all, soaring up like Icarus to the sun. It's a cold and lonely place up there, although it seems that they're blazed in the glorious sunlight.

The possession of knowledge can make one quite lonely. To pull yourself apart from a pack, watching over with the understanding of how things are.

To be the golden eagle or to be a wolf in the pack, neither is easy; it's just a choice one makes.

When You Can See the Dimension of Time

It is not uncommon that we read thousands of years of history in one stanza of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage; it's mind-blowing how the concept of time can expand and shrink just like that, and sometimes a few simple words can bring back memories of centuries past, and stories from hinges of history brought to tears, people of all time. Byron's vast knowledge of history made his poetry incomparably rich, with his words floating through time and space, his work pulls together pieces of the wildest imagination. 

Poetry brings to our attention the connection between events in time in a linear fashion. We read through them word by word, line by line and legend of extraordinary individuals create indescribable images in our minds. It's sort of an abstract concept at least, for we couldn't put a frame around it, but rather brew the kaleidoscopic vision in the caldron of our consciousness. 

Visual artists sometimes have the ability to bring us back on our feet, and with their brushes, create one after another aha moments and make us say: indeed this is how the imagination of all collides. 

Gustav Klimt, one of my favourite painters of all time, had been labeled as a symbolic painter. I'd rather think of it as his ability to make the parallel elements apparent between different characteristics in his paintings. The female figures being one of the prominent themes, Klimt's extravagant splashes of gold and generously spread decorative strokes earned his paintings the title "frank eroticism". Personally I don't quite agree with that, for the study of female bodies has been an unavoidable theme in all, maybe save few misfits in the art world, categories of western art. Artists admire perfect proportions and the smooth curves of a female figure, painting them over and over again regardless of their styles or methods. Klimt for one, had been quite versatile, painting traditional realistic figures with a twist in the composition as well as abstract shapes during his "golden phase": those art nouveau paintings drove art connoisseurs wild, and they put those shimmering pieces in living rooms, on furniture, scarves, jewelries, etc. However, Klimt's most admirable accomplishments lies in his symbolic compositions. Being a member of the distinguished Vienna Succession movement, he was, among the like minded fellow artists, aiming to create a style that entirely stands alone from previous influences. 

Allegory of Sculpture

Allegory of Sculpture, completed roughly in 1889, was one of Klimt's best known portraits. Within one canvas, you see layers of sculptures from different periods and cultures. The artist is doing the job of a curator as he was creating this piece, thus creating an early manifestation of augmented reality. It's a masterpiece of a skilled painting, but the most extraordinary character of this painting lies in the fact that there's an entirely different kind of dimension presented in front of us. 

From background to foreground, you can tell vaguely the sculpture in the style of ancient Greek, a traditional bust of Athena with distinguishable facial features; in front of that is another sculpture of Athena in her shiniest armour and glorious helmet, holding her sceptor (although unseen from the painting). Before that, a modern sculpture of a seated female figure, led by a beautiful water colour painting of a female with Egyptian accessories (and some of Klimt's favourite circular motifs in her hair).  The foreground figure is standing on a platform, holding a posture as though she's a sculpture. It's almost as if she's indeed a sculpture yet turning into life by the touch of the artist. It's happened before, if you're familiar with Pygmalion's story. 

There are chunks of empty spaces in the painting, something you wouldn't see in the more traditional pieces. Modern artists have been exploring what they can do within the limitation of a frame, and Klimt here, has indubitably created a sense of infinity through leaving blank the spaces in between the present and the past, the foreground and the background. One thing is certain: Allegory of Sculpture is not a realistic presentation of still life, but a visualized flow of thoughts, a poetry in the form of a picture. 

II : XXXVI - XLI Flowers of Love and War

Entering 19th Century, the power of what used to the Ottoman Empire was diminishing. Albania had been taken over since the end of 14th, and would be under Islamic/Turkish control for another 100 years until the blooming of Albanian nationalism. Beautiful country it is, Albania has been famous for her fearless warriors. Those are the brave ones who managed to keep their identity by escaping to Italy, Egypt, and other surrounding countries. 

State Emblem of Albania

It only makes sense that we are now heading towards Albania, the country of both Islamic and Christian background. On the other hand, being a land historically occupied by both the Greeks and the Turks, Albania has witnessed a past of conflict between the two distinct races.  

Mother nature is generous to Albania. The country has a wealth of extraordinary fossils and rare animal species, some of the most beautiful and unusual, for example, the golden eagle (the country's national symbol), and the Balkan Lynx. Besides biological resources, 1/3 of the land is covered by forestry, and that is indubitably a fortune.

Lynx

When Byron landed Albania, the country was still subordinated to Turkish control, Ali Pasha being its ruler at the time, who was extremely hospitable to his guests, sending them gifts frequently and hosting feasts each night. The poet and his entourage spent some grand time there. He also had a lot of time to emulate the journey he had had up to that point, getting ready to start penning Childe Harold's story.

Ali Pasha

There's this guy who managed to take Albania back from the Turks, well at least for a while. His name is George Kastrioti Skanderbeg (Iskander Bey, which means, literally, lord Alexander); usually people know him as simply Skanderbeg.  Think of him as someone without whom Albania wouldn't exist today. While working for the Ottoman Empire as a governor, Skanderbeg organized a rebellian military force against the Turks, bringing Christianity back to Albania. Ask anyone from that country to name you a national hero, they'll probably give you Skanderbeg, the men whose army won more than 20 battles against Ottoman force. Vivaldi wrote an opera based on his story; Byron was merely one of the many poets who wrote odes to Skanderbeg.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Scanderbere revealed the characters of the hero quite vividly, as in:

Anon from the castle walls
The crescent banner falls,	150
And the crowd beholds instead,
Like a portent in the sky,
Iskander’s banner fly,
The Black Eagle with double head;
And a shout ascends on high,	155
For men’s souls are tired of the Turks,
And their wicked ways and works,
That have made of Ak-Hissar
A city of the plague;
And the loud, exultant cry	160
That echoes wide and far
Is: “Long live Scanderbeg!”
It was thus Iskander came
Once more unto his own;
And the tidings, like the flame	165
Of a conflagration blown
By the winds of summer, ran,
Till the land was in a blaze,
And the cities far and near,
Sayeth Ben Joshua Ben Meir,	170
In his Book of the Words of the Days,
“Were taken as a man
Would take the tip of his ear.”

During times of its struggle and sorrow, a nation calls for a hero. It takes a lot of courage to be a hero, for the individual must face not only the demanding task of leading the crowd, but also the burden of accusation from those who misunderstand. It's a risky business to be the only who rise up from the crowd. It's never easy to be a leader, for the individual must take up to be responsible for all the followers. The leader's decision can affect too many lives to be taken lightly. Today we write stories about superman and extraordinary individuals who possess distinguished powers; they are the modern time saviours of our society who fight the crimes and intruders and eventually ride off into the sunset, mostly go on without attachment to family. Joseph Campbell calls it monomyth because we all hope someone would rise up above all to be the one who leads., yet rarely does anyone actually take on the job themselves. We all have too much to lose.

War and Love usually come in pair. It's no wonder: just look at the most celebrated and scandalous love affair of all time, the one between Ares and Aphrodite. The goddess of love is unsatisfied with her insufferably dull marriage with the crippled god of fire Hephaestus, so she started seeing the god of war, secret rendezvous and what not. Logical or not, the point is, from the soil that the flowers of war grow, blossoms love as well.

Sappho, Greek lyric poet, or better still, the girl who inspired generations to come; or BETTER STILL, the woman called "the tenth muse" by Plato. Most of her life that we know of are just fragments and traces we estimate from her surviving poetry pieces. I was first introduced to her work by Aaron Poochigian's translation of Stung with Love: Poems and Fragments by Sappho.

Sappho and Alcaeus by Lawrence Alma-Tadema

The kind of love described in Sappho, is no doubt a bigger kind than the heterosexual one in a traditional sense, which ironically made Sappho become earliest example of homosexuality in female, the words sapphic and lesbian being derived from her name and birth place. Scholars suggested that Sappho's love is similar to what was described by Socrates: a universal love that has nothing to do with the attraction between sexes; an appreciation towards all things beautiful, which is the origin of love.

Lefkada, or Leucadia, is the place where Sappho committed suicide. It's also believed to be the original place of Ithaca in Odyssey. According to legends, this island in the middle of Ionian sea is dear to Aphrodite. At the spot from which Sappho fleet to meet her fate, the poet recounted the battles that costed lives and honour. 

Battle of Actium opened the struggle between Octavian and Anthony. Historians lead us to believe in Cleopatra's role in this war as a woman more than her role as a Pharaoh because the affair between her and Mark Anthony somewhat caused the final war of Roman Republic, after which the Egyptians enjoyed a long period (207 years) of Pax Romana.   

Battle of Lepanto, mourned by the Ottoman Empire and cheered by the Christians. Although the victory on the Christian side wasn't an apparent turning point for the course of history, it raised morale and, looking back it from a larger scale, it had been the battle that turned the course around. The Christian navy captured experienced Turkish sailor with superior naval skills and knowledges. They had losses afterwards, but Lepanto was an invisible beginning to the downfall of the Ottoman Empire.

After the Battle of Trafalgar

Battle of Trafalgar, had been more recent to the poet than anything else. England, France and Spain, all out with their vast league of fleets, met at the cape of Trafalgar. This battle ended the French Naval's challenge to the Royal Navy of Britain, although it'd still take another decade for the Napoleon war to cease. 

Those battles, varied in scales and origins as well as the historical backgrounds, share some underlying connections. Obviously they're all naval combats, which is how Leucadia Cape reminded Byron of them. All of them had been subtle turning point of the war of a larger scale. As you can see, the unpredictable nature of history usually make all the contemporary mad with fear and agression, and only 100 years from the present can we figure out a logic connection between events.

Of course, a shortcut would be to understand history, for everything you need to learn about now or the future, you can learn the pattern from the past. 

She sings about love, of the most passionate kind, living at a time of war and turbulence. She dies, or rather, falls from the cliff of time, plunging into the mote of history. In her poem she talks about being remembered and thought of by someone in the future, calling for her lover to stand on her side, to fight as her comrades in all the battles. Her words are the lyrical presentation of how love is stronger than war. It's ironic that throughout history, love appeared to be, many a time, the cause of wars, but that doesn't discredit its power to end the wars.

This particular one of Sappho's few surviving fragments is perfect for the occasion:

“Some say an army of horsemen,
some of footsoldiers, some of ships,
is the fairest thing on the black earth,
but I say it is what one loves.

It's very easy to make this clear
to everyone, for Helen,
by far surpassing mortals in beauty,
left the best of all husbands

and sailed to Troy,
mindful of neither her child
nor her dear parents, but
with one glimpse she was seduced by

Aphrodite. For easily bent...
and nimbly...[missing text]...
has reminded me now
of Anactoria who is not here;

I would much prefer to see the lovely
way she walks and the radiant glance of her face
than the war-chariots of the Lydians or
their footsoldiers in arms.” ― Sappho  

II : XXIX - XXXV Calypso!

After holding Odysseus for 7 years on her island, Calypso was visited by Hermes who ordered her to release the man she had been in love with. Of course, after all that, she was the one accused of being seductive and puling the hero back from his ultimate task. Our hero turned down her offer of immortality, built a raft and left the nymph who took care of him when he was at rock bottom without a drop of hope. Indeed, indeed, we eventually cheer for the reunion of Odysseus and the virtuous Penelope. We sing songs about the King's wisdom and the faithful queen as well as the courageous prince who managed to make out his father in the beggar's clothing... Epics are usually written in favour of the hero, whose purpose is so important that everything along the way that becomes sort of an obstacle would be labeled "evil". I've always been sympathetic towards Calypso. She's like a female CEO that runs the whole island with nothing much exciting going on in her never-ending immortal life, and, forget not, without a companion. Then comes Odysseus, a hero of some sort, a mortal human yes, but look, she has the ability to convert him if they can reach consensus. 

Odysseus and Calypso by Jan Brueghel the Elder. circa 1616

We know what happened in the end. Calypso's name became the synonym of a deceitful and seductive lover. Byron here, is comparing his beautiful "Florence" to the nymph, being self-pitiful about the love he never got. For someone like Byron who's so used to women throwing themselves to him, what he experienced with "Florence" was rare. 

Florence, is the poetical alias for Mrs. Spencer Smith.  In 1830, John Galt penned the memoir: The Life of Lord Byron, reserving one part of chapter 9 for the special incidents in Malta. Our adventurous heroine, was no other than Mrs. Spencer Smith. Her life, almost as equally scandalous and eventful as Byron's, had been indubitably some best topic in town. She'd been arrested by order of Napoleon, had a "romantic escape" with Marquis de Salvo and had wondrous expeditions with said gentleman, as noted in Napoleon's memoir by Laure Junot Abrantes.

It's only understandable that Byron would become affectionate over Mrs. Spencer Smith, although their relationship ended up platonic. It's decided: the lady won this chess game between the pair, beguiling Byron's yellow diamond ring for a keepsake without offering anything in return. Byron, on the other hand, wrote plenty of lines in memory of this chapter of his life.

You can read one example below (with editorial notes by Prothero Coleridge):

I'm not entirely certain if it's proper comparing Mrs. Smith to Calypso. Understandably there's the exaggeration from a Romantic poet. To me, Mrs. Smith was an independent woman in the early 19th century, who possessed unimaginable courage and character. It's rare for a woman to be like that at the time, a pretty risky business too. Byron was undoubtedly bitter that their relationship didn't advance, but his words also revealed much admiration and respect. After all, who doesn't prefer a worthy opponent and enjoy an exciting game to something dull and monotonous?

Diane, Hecate, now Calypso, all of whom possessing indescribable power over nature and men alike. All these goddesses or immortal beings have been appearing in this section of canto ii. There's never a shortage of female characters in Byron's life. They bewildered him since his childhood: his emotionally unstable mother, his childhood crush who ended up pursuing a more reliable marriage... at this point of his life he hasn't encountered the crazier bunch who are yet to occupy his emotional realm, including Caro Lamb, and the revengeful princess of parallelogram, his future wife Annabella Milbanke. At this point of his life, those magnificent women had been simply casting traps with their elegant gestures and soft voices, in which he called himself wasting his youth indulging.

This "lamenting" part of the poem also reminded me of Shakespeare's "Sigh No More" (from Much Ado About Nothing), where the deceitful characters had been men. A reverse relationship here, but equally entertaining. Romance had been, and will always be confusing for both men and women. Words of self-pity and comfort with sarcastic accusations remain to be some of the most interesting elements in literary world:

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey nonny, nonny. 

Sigh no more ditties, sing no more
Of dumps so dull and heavy.
The fraud of men was ever so
Since summer first was leafy.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny.

Unlike Odysseus on Calypso's island, Byron didn't spend too much time in Malta. Of course, the hero from Ithaca would be inspiring to him at least for the determination and loyalty. Byron once wrote that watching over the ocean from the cliff made him homesick. His childhood in Scotland brought him an accent he was always ready to get rid of, as well as many a sweet memory of the carefree years. In previous stanzas the poet has already expressed the desire to start over, lamenting over the cruel and never-pausing flow of time; and here, regretting the years wasted on his "personal Calypso's island", he's telling a cautionary tale to warn his fictional self.

Of course, we must not forget Byron's tendency to exaggerate: his emotional rollercoaster brings him instantly cheery and then suddenly gloomy, mostly because of unfulfilled or overwhelming love. For him it is an addiction that eventually brings more disappointments than joy. Passion established him and made him an everlasting name, yet at the same time, bound to destroy him.

II : XXII - XXVIII Of Transiency and Infinity

British sight-specific theatre troupe's smash hit production Sleep No More wove together the universe of the Scottish play as well as Alfred Hitchcock's cinematic world, creating a mythical environment where participants explore as the story unravels around them. One of the characters the creators added to the story is Hecate as the queen of the witches that appeared to deliver the oracle for Macbeth. See my illustration of the story (the one top left is Hecate):

My Illustration of Sleep No More

Hecate is actually an ancient goddess of witchcraft as well as various things like the torch, light, fire, the moon, crossroads... in short, anything with an air of mystery. She appears in the tripartite state of nature, usually with three faces (phases). Three, of course, is probably considered the most magical number of them all, and most powerful too: the unbreakable holy trinity just for an example. 

Hecate facing three directions by Richard Cosway

The presence of Hecate is proper as the poet enters the realm of the Muslim. The Byzantium symbol of crescent and star had been linked to the goddess since late Hellenistic civilization (one example of Hellenistic period art is Venus de Milo). The people of Byzantium had been quite devoted to her ladyship, with a cult and everything, such as the counterpart of Athena's "fan base" on the Greek side. According to one theory, she is the sister of Leto, who mothers Apollo and Artemis. This relationship makes Hecate the aunt of the sun god and moon goddess. A pretty grand position if you ask me! Another less devine theory makes her a priestess, turned immortal by the Artemis. 

Imagine being onboard of a ship, and you go on deck at night while all is silent, the kind of silent we cannot experience in modern times, and all you can hear is the murmur of the wind, and you set your mind aloof. The air would be filled with ancient stories and even though you're alone in the vastness between the sky and the ocean, you feel surrounded by gods with blessings of all kinds. You have a chance to meditate and travel by freewill. And you start to miss the best times of your life... Byron had an emotionally tormenting childhood and teen years because of his complicated relationship with his mother and his lameness. It's only conceivable that he would be constantly imagining another kind of life if he could start over. His "escape from reality" is made possible because of title and financial support, romanticized because of his brilliance in handling words. On a lighter note, he also experienced major personal growth through those voyages, as the level of maturity becomes more and more apparent between the lines.

The generally shorter lifespan of people back in 19th century makes it understandable that a 24-year-old would have deep contemplation and acute awareness of his own mortality, thus constantly look in retrospect within himself. The moon, the lone vessel and the sound of the waves set the mood. 

Being aware of one's mortality at a comparatively young age can usually lead to two attitudes and results: 1. Give up and lament how nothing is possible to attain in a lifetime, or 2. Start living every day like it's the last, scaling all the mountain you can climb, crossing all the streams you pass along the way. Think of life as a story without an ending, but that doesn't mean you should give up the pleasure in the process. The best is always that little bit just out of reach, out of sight.

Think of it as a balance of active elements: when you're surrounded by acquaintances and you're socializing in the midst of a bubbling crowd, your mind would be processing only one thing at a time; however, when you're in the state of physical solitude, your mind becomes kaleidoscopic, and the world inside of you becomes infinite. "O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space", says Prince Hamlet the melancholy. Under arrest in Turin while serving, Xavier de Maistre wrote Voyage autour de ma chambre (Voyage Around My Room), published first in 1794. Quite a contemporary of Lord Byron, Xavier de Maistre later in his life also went on journeys to explore the world.

The mind is a boundless dimension, and those who master the art of using it are invincible, of course, note that knowledge still sets the base, otherwise the mind would be nothing but a vacuumed mote.

There are also two attitudes and results a vast amount of knowledge can bring one: 1. Become melancholic but nonchalant about worldly matters, for he understands the improbability of him being able to change anything; or 2. becoming much involved in all matters of the world, make changes or die trying. There's no say which way is better, but I would probably choose the latter, for the same reason I'd choose the positive reaction towards mortality. The entire human race could be considered as one living organism, and its evolution needs the effort of every single individual. The eremites, seem to me as though deactivated cells... however useful and perfectly cultured they might be, still useless.

The good news is most of us are born with the autonomous drive to move forward and get involved. It's ok to feel blue at times, but as the shore rises along the horizon, we would know that it's time for us to find another path. Breath with the world and feel the rhythm of the nature matching so perfectly with our heartbeats.

And follow the footprints of Harold we shall land the anchor and step ashore once again, with another love story, and another world ahead.

"The world is not beautiful, therefore it is..."

II : XVI - XXI Of the Sea and the Moon

Before commercial airlines were invented, there's only one way daredevils go exploring the world: hit the wave and go to uncharted waters. It hasn't been long since human being finally grasped the whole scope of our planet, if you think about it. For the most part of our race's time on earth, we've just been satisfied with the comfort of ignorance. However, once you tasted the sweetness of adventures, there's no turing back. 

Harold, for one, is cutting himself loose from all his past attachments, moving on to the next destination. Of course, it's easier to leave a place that had depressed him so much: Greece, was like a tomb of a civilization, a shell of what used to be so vivacious and rich.

Between 1809-1810, Lord Byron went back and forth from Greece (the general Mediterranean area) to Turkey (especially Constantinople, Troy, etc.) 

He visited important geographical marks in Odyssey and Iliad during that time including Ithaca, Odysseus' home, Athens, Troy, spending long bulks of time in that area, while writing the first two cantos of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 

The imageries in Canto the Second were, of course, fresh and vivid. 

The ocean possesses something entirely inexplicable to our logical minds. It pulls you in and calms you down even when you see those fierce waves and hear those restless howls. It's as though a kind of subliminal siren song draws you close to the heart of the ocean. There's no way to escape it once you're intoxicated by the salty wind. 

The "dark, blue sea" has been a constant motif in Lord Byron's poetry. Having spend so much time abroad and about, it's understandable that the ever-changing climes at the sea would inspire the romantic poet. In stanza XVII, the ocean presents itself as a peaceful and vast sight in front of Childe Harold's eyes, filled with spirit. The sea is an interesting symbol, for it represent different things for different people. Byron, for instance, was an individual who's saturated with knowledge of history, hence the ocean to him became more than just a body water, but rather a mote of memories that connects the past and the presents. Here's another poem about the ocean:

The Dark, Blue Sea
by Lord Byron
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society where none intrudes,By the deep sea, and music in its roar:I love not man the less, but nature more,From these our interviews, in which I stealFrom all I may be, or have been before,To mingle with the universe, and feelWhat I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.-
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;

Read the rest of the poem here, and the attached video provides you with a narrative perspective of the literature. This poem, to me is almost an expansion and a microscopic view of a small segment of "Childe Harold".

Let your mind race when facing the dark, blue sea...

you wouldn't be able to resist it.

The structure of a ship crew, called warlike here by Byron, to me is more like a corporation. You have the Captain who commands the executive decisions like a CEO; you have the experienced boatswain who functions as the maintenance head; and you have the mate who would be more similar than you think to a modern day PR department, overlooking crisis and figuring out how to solve all kinds of problems.

It takes a lot of will power and the calmest personality to be a captain, for he is responsible for the well being of the entire crew, just like what a good CEO of the company would be. He would be the one to blame for the crisis and the last one to loose up. Recently I heard the story of the captain of a ship that went on an exploration voyage to the north pole. A man of few words, the captain revealed in front of the journalist that he's accustomed to danger and accepted the fact that you have to be ready to yield to the power of nature at any time.

The sea is also a provider of neutral environments where people can forget about all the daily nuisances. Maybe that's why we still go on cruises although many a times those voyages prove to be the opposite of what the advertising says. Of course, it depends on what you ask for in the first place. Personally I've always had this fantasy of going sailing at the sea and see all the different colours of the water and all the different shapes of clouds. You get what you sign up for...minus the romanticized part. 

The brine consumes it all. 

The flow of your thoughts stirs into the unknown. 

The process is irreversible. 

The other universal motif that fascinates people across time and space is, if you still haven't guessed it yet, the moon. Every single poet, visual artist, singer as far as I know, regardless of age, cultural background, gender or race, has used the ethereal being, the moon, as a subject and a muse. Chinese poet Li Bai in Tang Dynasty would look up the sky with his drunken eyes, inviting the moon and his own shadow for another round. It's a whimsical sight, incredibly zen.

There are endless tales about the origin of moon and fascinating lores explaining the man in the moon, or in my case, I grew up knowing that the goddess Chang Eh took a leap of faith in her desire of coming immortal, left her home and her husband, and took residence in the palace of the moon. There's a white rabbit and a flowering three there to keep her company. The moon has always been a place of solitude and self reflection for philosophers throughout history. Since man's first step onto the surface of moon, we already know that it's a barren satellite planet of the earth, tucking and pulling the tides being one of her functions; yet we still enjoy fantastical stories with no scientific basis about the moon. Why? Because the moon we talk about in stories is more than a boring astronomical being, but a symbol that connects humanity and makes us one.

Here's a modern rendition by Pigpen Theatre Co. telling the tale of how the moon changes shape. A story of the steward of the moon with shadow puppetry in digital animation...the cutting edge modern and the traditional, the handicraftsman and the digital editing, you can't get more integrated than that!

II : X - XV The Lost Treasures of Greece

About the disappearance of the statue of Zeus at the Temple of Zeus of Olympia, there are many stories, some fantastical. Some said that Roman emperor Caligula wanted to take the statue from Athens so he could remove its head and put his own on it. There's tale of the statue letting out laughters as it was being removed and transported to Rome, foretelling the approaching assassination of Caligula.

6th Son of Cronos (Saturn in Stanza X), Zeus became the king of gods, fulfilling the oracle and his father's biggest fear, thanks to his mother's protection from the envious and murderous Cronos. Here's how Homer described Zeus in Iliad. Indeed the big boss of the Olympia, Zeus had been feared and revered by gods and men alike, maybe save Hera, his deservingly jealous wife.

ἦ καὶ κυανέῃσιν ἐπ' ὀφρύσι νεῦσε Κρονίωνἀμβρόσιαι δ' ἄρα χαῖται ἐπερρώσαντο ἄνακτοςκρατὸς ἀπ' ἀθανάτοιο μέγαν δ' ἐλέλιξεν Ὄλυμπον. 

He spoke, the son of Cronos, and nodded his head with the dark brows,and the immortally anointed hair of the great godswept from his divine head, and all Olympos was shaken.                                                                                    

---- Iliad Homer

Now, Iliad (read it, seriously, it's one of my all time favourite books), is about two plundering forces collide: the Aegean and the Trojan fought to their last drop, losing the lives of most magnificent heros: Hector, Patroclus, Achilles, Ajax...just to name a few. Byron paid a visit to Patroclus' tomb himself. He amongst all would be moved by the friendship between Achille and Patroclus. It's a war without a righteous side, partially caused by the Priam's no-good-son Paris yielding to his desire (the golden apple was merely a bait as far as I'm concerned), leading to the Aegean's' despicable deeds, blood-washing a city that used to be glorious and peaceful.

  

Achilles and Patroclus

I don't think Byron was on the Aegean's side completely, but he idolized Achilles. Proof? He designed his own armour and helmet according to the one Athena bestowed to Achilles! Hobhouse thought the plumes were way overly fancy, and Byron didn't end up wearing it either because he died before confronting the enemies...but that's another story.

It's hard to imagine the span of time when the poet includes the history of thousands of years within one stanza. Mycenaean Greece, or better known as the Bronze Age, marked a series of conflicts and at the same time, artistic development. The construction of many beautiful temples in Athens with Doric order had been taken place during that time, as well as many Homeric epics. And then Virgil depicted Aeneas' journey out of Troy and thus the beginning of Ancient Roman Civilization which lasted until the year of 480. I always thought it's quite proper that Aeneas is Venus' son, and a civilization was born out of Love after a lifetime of suffering and loss.

Venus and Aeneas

The Elgin Marbles somehow survived all the rise and fall of empires, until in the beginning of 19th Century, Britain started to transport all the remaining sculptures from Parthenon and other temples across the ocean. Byron was obviously unhappy about it, scathing the fact that the British is finally taking away Greece's last bits of wealth and memory of their bountiful history. One can argue that to this point, the remnants of ancient Greek have become heritage of the entire human race, and it's understandable to take those sculptures to better care, such as in a museum, it's still robbery by all means.

After the war, treasures of the defeated side usually end up getting ripped off, for they're trophies for the victors.

There are five rivers in the realm of Hades, Styx, the river of Hate, being one of them. It was the very river Achilles had been dipped in to be made invincible by his mother when he was merely an infant. We all know what happened afterwards: the mother missed one spot, which let to the son's fateful downfall. Achilles didn't enjoy his afterlife. In Homer's Odyssey, Achille's soul said to Odysseus: "I would rather follow the plow as thrall to another man, one with no land allotted to him and not much to live on, than be a king over all the perished dead". And a much more serious problem is: the Greek hero can no longer protect his beloved land, lest she's lost to the foreign robbers.

There's always a conflict of interests when it comes to deciding what to do with ancient cultural heritages. There's nothing the Greek can do in the beginning of 19th century. They were week, wounded and seemed unrecoverable. The Britannica had been on the rise, conquering the ocean with flying colours. Is it moral to transport the Elgin Marbles from a country that wasn't able to say no, even with the best intentions? You can only have an attitude towards this kind of things, but not a sound explanations.

History can always be examined, studied, evaluated, with which we predict the future, for it is based on human nature. Yet even if we see through it in all clarity, it's still impossible for us to offer an explanation to the tendency towards conflicts and destruction throughout our history. It takes a lot of precaution and willpower to protect a legacy, which is all so easy to lose.