A Simple Desultory Phillipic
I have been a poor correspondent, of late: despite my best intentions of again filling this space with my humble opines and thoughts I have lagged well behind whilst other bloggers post madly and without end. But life intrudes.
The Mole, such as he is, is not one made for riotous living. As with Moley of The Wind in the Willows, or better, as with Mr. Underhill of Bag End - adventures may be fine but they do make one late for dinner. They also make it difficult to gather ones thoughts in a coherent way.
Let me be clear: I am not against adventure and there is something worthwhile in it. I believe I am having one now - but I do think we forget that those heroes we love who go on adventures are often getting the ever loving snot kicked out of them on our virtual behalf - Frodo and Sam; Odysseus; Thomas Covenant; Indiana Jones; Hellboy, even. It is not easy or fun to actually be heroic, we learn. That is why we generally let the actor or the character do it for us. For every moment glorying in Lothlorien we must spend hours slogging through Moria, pursued by Orcs and Balrogs. Superheroes beat up and are beaten up. But we dont have to do it - they do it for us.
The adventure I am having has glories like the Atlantic Ocean sparkling on a summer day, and Wagnerian thunderstorms and the comfort of good friends and a glass of wine or a game of cribbage; but it also includes attorneys and seperation from children and expensive traffic tickets and feear of the unknown and uncertainty and sleeplessness and tears and confusion etc. etc. It does not feel heroic, and were our imagined heroes real they would probably be glad to change their plight for some R&R. Or maybe not, because they would then shirk a duty they feel sworn to. But I cannot believe it is necessarily fun to be a true hero.
I cannot believe it is already July. I cannot believe the swiftness of things these days. I am growing tired of this adventure and hope it comes to some kind of conclusion soon so we can move on to the next one. I have not lost hope but the tiredness, when it descends, descends swiftly.
The Mole begs for and thanks you for your indulgence. Pox vobsicum.
The Mole, such as he is, is not one made for riotous living. As with Moley of The Wind in the Willows, or better, as with Mr. Underhill of Bag End - adventures may be fine but they do make one late for dinner. They also make it difficult to gather ones thoughts in a coherent way.
Let me be clear: I am not against adventure and there is something worthwhile in it. I believe I am having one now - but I do think we forget that those heroes we love who go on adventures are often getting the ever loving snot kicked out of them on our virtual behalf - Frodo and Sam; Odysseus; Thomas Covenant; Indiana Jones; Hellboy, even. It is not easy or fun to actually be heroic, we learn. That is why we generally let the actor or the character do it for us. For every moment glorying in Lothlorien we must spend hours slogging through Moria, pursued by Orcs and Balrogs. Superheroes beat up and are beaten up. But we dont have to do it - they do it for us.
The adventure I am having has glories like the Atlantic Ocean sparkling on a summer day, and Wagnerian thunderstorms and the comfort of good friends and a glass of wine or a game of cribbage; but it also includes attorneys and seperation from children and expensive traffic tickets and feear of the unknown and uncertainty and sleeplessness and tears and confusion etc. etc. It does not feel heroic, and were our imagined heroes real they would probably be glad to change their plight for some R&R. Or maybe not, because they would then shirk a duty they feel sworn to. But I cannot believe it is necessarily fun to be a true hero.
I cannot believe it is already July. I cannot believe the swiftness of things these days. I am growing tired of this adventure and hope it comes to some kind of conclusion soon so we can move on to the next one. I have not lost hope but the tiredness, when it descends, descends swiftly.
The Mole begs for and thanks you for your indulgence. Pox vobsicum.
Brought to light by JTK at 6:29 PM
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