Muffit
November 28th, 2003, 02:37 PM
Irony. A state that exists in spite of itself. Who among us, by running away, can escape our destination? That, in a nutshell, is irony.
Time’s withered journal tells us of a man in ancient Greece, a brilliant engineer for his day, named Daedalus. Logic would tell us such a clever man by his cleverness would be free. Yet it was because of it he ended up a prisoner in a tower. His dream was to get away, with his son, and start again. But the King kept watch by land and by sea. And so it was, undaunted, that Daedalus chose to flee by air. He fashioned wings for himself and his son, bound with wax and curved as our engineers know they must be today. Flew they did, Daedalus and Icarus, father and son, on their way to freedom. But Icarus, not heeding his father’s warnings, flew higher and higher, giddy with joy, till he was too close to the sun. The wax melted, and Icarus fell. And his father spied the loose feathers in the water, and knew his son was gone. Seeking freedom, he became a prisoner of his grief.
But there is a further irony, one of discovery which irony ultimately becomes. The wax could not have melted, as we know today the higher you fly the /colder/ it becomes. How odd this is. Why is it that, on this Earth, the closer we are to the sun, the colder we become?
When lost at sea, mouth parched and lips crumbling, surrounded by a vast ocean of the water we crave, why is it that we can die of thirst?
And why, please tell me, the deeper and more urgently we love our children, do we somehow always push them away?
We do not need to agree as fans of BSG, to understand how those of us who love and crave its continuance so deeply, have come to find that the very fervency of our devotion has taken it further from us, possibly forever. It has been often said that TPTB needed to make use of it now or lose it for good, and so the mini was born. But the true irony is that the extreme effort and passion that those of us like Richard Hatch and ourselves have given, is the very reason we have lost our dream. We brought it unmistakably into the light, so that others could see and take it from us.
Life need not be a fabric of mutual exclusiveness, clothing us in the emptiness we put on to make us full. The fulfillment of one dream need not obscure the hope of another.
BSG can continue for us and start over for you. If we share in a dream to please each other and hope for a movie continuation as well. Continue and start over. That is an irony we can all live with.
Affectionately and respectfully,
Muffit
Time’s withered journal tells us of a man in ancient Greece, a brilliant engineer for his day, named Daedalus. Logic would tell us such a clever man by his cleverness would be free. Yet it was because of it he ended up a prisoner in a tower. His dream was to get away, with his son, and start again. But the King kept watch by land and by sea. And so it was, undaunted, that Daedalus chose to flee by air. He fashioned wings for himself and his son, bound with wax and curved as our engineers know they must be today. Flew they did, Daedalus and Icarus, father and son, on their way to freedom. But Icarus, not heeding his father’s warnings, flew higher and higher, giddy with joy, till he was too close to the sun. The wax melted, and Icarus fell. And his father spied the loose feathers in the water, and knew his son was gone. Seeking freedom, he became a prisoner of his grief.
But there is a further irony, one of discovery which irony ultimately becomes. The wax could not have melted, as we know today the higher you fly the /colder/ it becomes. How odd this is. Why is it that, on this Earth, the closer we are to the sun, the colder we become?
When lost at sea, mouth parched and lips crumbling, surrounded by a vast ocean of the water we crave, why is it that we can die of thirst?
And why, please tell me, the deeper and more urgently we love our children, do we somehow always push them away?
We do not need to agree as fans of BSG, to understand how those of us who love and crave its continuance so deeply, have come to find that the very fervency of our devotion has taken it further from us, possibly forever. It has been often said that TPTB needed to make use of it now or lose it for good, and so the mini was born. But the true irony is that the extreme effort and passion that those of us like Richard Hatch and ourselves have given, is the very reason we have lost our dream. We brought it unmistakably into the light, so that others could see and take it from us.
Life need not be a fabric of mutual exclusiveness, clothing us in the emptiness we put on to make us full. The fulfillment of one dream need not obscure the hope of another.
BSG can continue for us and start over for you. If we share in a dream to please each other and hope for a movie continuation as well. Continue and start over. That is an irony we can all live with.
Affectionately and respectfully,
Muffit