Approaching Midnight
And here I am in that moment,
leafing through the scattered others.
And here I am in that moment,
leafing through the scattered others.
What does our relationship with lions need to become, if this ancient conflict is to come to dusk in such a way that an early morning air that’s charged with the roaring of the dawn chorus still greets the sunrise?
And so it begins again, the collection of dust.
Yes, it is flipping expectations in some way, but fundamentally not. Yes, it is a very creative way to re-hash, but it is still the same. The idea that The Last Jedi is making us question what Star Wars is, presenting us with something unfamiliar, simply isn’t true. The story, quite naturally, is fundamentally the very same.
I want – nay, need – nay, don’t need… just want – to complain about two things in particular: relentless encroachment on the original trilogy (OT) by recent additions to what is now official canon, and the superficially fashionable fandom of much of it all at this point in time.
The title – Areopagitica – comes from Areopagus, a large rock outcropping just outside of Athens, Greece. Milton used this because, in ancient times, the outcropping had been used as the seat for councils and tribunals; had been used for open and free debate.
The child is but a lamb, and the parent but a child, obedient to God and faith and scripture.
And there she still is; and so it hasn’t worked.
Conserving a bird species, then, by dedicating the vast majority of your time and effort to the human communities that share space with it.
It is a singular relationship, that which exists between humans and lions.
Nothing beside remains. Something beside remains.
“Let’s cool it, Brothers…”
That the first tentative steps toward deep, eventual friendship, informed by a self-interest in easy food as those steps may have been, were taken, willingly, by wolves.
I have, for so long now, found so little wild, so few pockets without their shadow, and so few of the wilder, natural prey. They are not within my grasp.
Trying, some desperately, some half-heartedly, to weave themselves back into the web that they severed themselves, at once with vicious intent and complete indifference, from.