Anogete's Journal

From Shikasta by Doris Lessing:

The old watch the young with anguish, pain, fear. Above all what each has learned is what things cost, what has to be paid, the consequences and results of actions. But their own lives have been useless, because nothing they have learned can be passed on. What is the point of learning so much, so painfully, at such a cost to themselves and to others (often the offspring in question) if the next generation cannot take anything at all from them, can accept nothing as "given," as learned, as already understood?

And these old ones who have lived through everything know very well that every horror is possible and indeed inevitable, but the young are feeling that well, perhaps, it will be all right after all.

The old live waiting, longing, for the young to come to their senses and understand they personally have so little time left, and the planet has so little time left: "For God's sake! There is no time left, no time left for you, and not for us either, while you peacock about and play little games..."

I've been reading The Farthest Shore, one of the Earthsea novels by Ursula K. Le Guin. I started it yesterday, but I'll likely finish it this evening. At any rate, I found this wonderful quote within it.

"Try to choose carefully, Arren, when the great choices must be made. When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are." (Chapter Three: Hort Town of The Farthest Shore)

First of all, damn all of you who have already seen The Order of the Phoenix. I'm not going until Saturday night. I had to smooth talk my way into getting Jason to accompany me. He's not exactly a huge HP fan, though he enjoys the movies with a passing interest. Everything I've heard has sounded fantastic - especially the tone of the movie. I'm not going to fret too much over inconsistencies with the novel or things that have been left out.

I started reading After the Long Goodbye by Masaki Yamada last night. It's actually a reasonably short tale that takes place between the first Ghost in the Shell movie and the second, Innocence. From what I've read thus far, it appears to be more of an in-depth character study of Batou than anything else. At the core of the story is the disappearance of Batou's dog, Gabriel. In Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence, Batou goes through long scenes without showing emotion. His behavior and mental state is shown in contrast to Gabriel, who shows so much more depth of feeling, despite being a dog.

The prologue of the novel made me tear up last night. I believe it was a combination of the beautiful simplicity of the statements (perhaps due to the translation from Japanese?) and my own mental state at the time. It speaks of the (imminent) death of a dog in an oblique sort of way, which struck me because of what happened earlier this week with Bean. It's rather short, so I typed it up for anyone interested in reading it.

( all i have is my dog gabriel. i have no friends, no lover. )

Beyond my interest in Batou as a character, I also found a great deal of information about cyberized bodies in the first chapter of the novel. I'm very happy I decided to pick it up, seeing as how it has cleared a few things up for me. Plus, (being shallow here) it's bound as a beautiful, little white hardback. Psalm 139 is printed in red ink on the cover beneath the dust jacket. Shirow Masamune (the creator) and Yamada (the author) both contributed to an afterward on the meaning of the novel and the second film.

G'Kar is my favorite character on Babylon 5 thus far. I've watched all but the last six episodes of the first season. I'm addicted. It's all downhill from here.

Anyway, G'Kar says the most interesting things. I was looking for a quote of his from halfway through the first season and came across this one:

"If I take a lamp and shine it toward the wall, a bright spot will appear on the wall. The lamp is our search for truth... for understanding. Too often, we assume that the light on the wall is God, but the light is not the goal of the search, it is the result of the search. The more intense the search, the brighter the light on the wall. The brighter the light on the wall, the greater the sense of revelation upon seeing it. Similarly, someone who does not search - who does not bring a lantern - sees nothing. What we perceive as God is the by-product of our search for God. It may simply be an appreciation of the light... pure and unblemished... not understanding that it comes from us. Sometimes we stand in front of the light and assume that we are the center of the universe - God looks astonishingly like we do - or we turn to look at our shadow and assume that all is darkness. If we allow ourselves to get in the way, we defeat the purpose, which is to use the light of our search to illuminate the wall in all its beauty and in all its flaws; and in so doing, better understand the world around us."

EDIT: donttouchmyhat7 mentioned Plato and it reminded me of Plato's The Allegory of the Cave. Connections.