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!