I was reading a Stephan Lawhead book, 'Avalon'
And hated it sooooooo much that when I was done I flung it on the floor, thus startling and offending Mattie because it was a library book. Nothing but a shameless apology for the British monarchy, and with such wooden and unlikely characters as to be disturbingly reminiscent of Ayn Rand's 'Anthem', all spouting unconvincing jargon about Jesus Christ and the Divine selection/support of kings. Empress Matilda came to my mind, and all of the rowdy Plantagenets, all scuffling and contesting to beat the band. If God (or the White Christ) cares in the slightest, it seems to me, the succession wouldn't be so muddled.
I had read it because I had enjoyed the 'Song of Albion' trilogy
Where a modern person is translated to Ancient Ireland-- he finds them barbaric and they find him dishonourable and selfish.
After, I watched the end of an verrrrrrry long movie (perhaps a miniseries?) from Hallmark, 'Jack the Giant-Killer'
Which I found meaningful since it echoes my previous feelings about the story. In it, however, the great-grandson of the original Jack (who was a murderer and thief) is accused of profiting by the destruction of the Giant's country (the goose and harp embody the health of the land) and condemned to death. Oddly, to me, he argues against this verdict and, supported by the betrayed love of the original Jack (time runs differently in Giant-Land) he rescues and returns the artifacts and they live happily ever after.
So when I woke up in the middle of the night after a disquieting dream I was thinking it over.
One of the Ancient Irish precepts I had some trouble with for years was the dictate that the King must be perfect (as in the silver hand contretemps) because to a post-modern appearance isn't that meaningful and handicap isn't a disqualifier. Some years ago I came to the understanding that I was thinking backwards:
The King doesn't lose his hand and THEN become unqualified; he loses his hand and becomes imperfect because he ALREADY HAS become unqualified. The handicap isn't the disqualifier, it is merely the outward appearance of his previous actions (or lack of them).
So, in the beginning of Lawhead's book where the British King is an asshole (his nick is 'Ready Teddy' and he seems to be modeled after the abidicant King) I, as an archaic thinker, would posit that the Gods DON'T WANT a British monarch. In 'Jack and the Beanstalk', when it was made clear to me that only my death would correct the imbalance in a country I had attached myself to I, as an archaic thinker, would step up to it.
In the middle of the night having just dreamed a disquieting dream, this enlarges itself to the thought that the fucked-up condition of the world at large supposes that the Gods (or perhaps specifically Gaia) are pretty much done with humanity. But at least I will have trees and native plants that will outlive me, and may remember me.
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad.