Myth, the Universe, and Everything

I took a week off back earlier in January and just read library books and books from my TBR pile and a few old review books that I'd needed to finish up. It was nice. Then I got a gig for School Library Journal that involves reading a bunch of series titles on world history and writing them up, and so I've moved from urban fantasy books to titles on technology in ancient cultures, how children lived in different eras, and the most daring raids in history. They're an eclectic mix, and even though they're short, it takes a long time to get through a pile of 100 page books! (Some, of course, read more easily than others, which is part of why they send them off to a reviewer.)

In the process, I've discovered that the Romans, who previously held little interest for me, were fascinating. They're not as interesting in the way that other ancient cultures are, to me -- they're interesting because they're so much more like us than other ancient cultures. The Romans strike me as a very material culture, interested in contracts and business arrangements, even with their gods. That certainly feels a step away from the all-powerful Greek gods, who would smite you for thinking for yourself (unless you're Odysseus -- there's a moment in the Odyssey where some non-Odysseus character has the idea that he doesn't need the gods, and he's immediately killed). It also feels far removed from the ongoing interference of the Tuatha de Danaan of Irish mythology or the pervasive sense of the Land-and-King unity in British legend. The Romans appear to be individuals with practical, material thoughts and goals -- and a tendency to observe other cultures and write about them the way that 19th century arm-chair anthropologists did. (And then, like good imperialists, they'd absorb those cultures into Rome.)

So, yeah, Rome is now on my list of interests -- which means I'm digging an ancient culture for its History rather than for its Mythology. This is sort of a shift from my usual thinking.

I've also been reading some web comics lately -- I finally decided I should read Schlock Mercenary by Howard Tayler. I also discovered that Love and Capes is publishing old strips online, which is exciting -- I got an issue of Love and Capes as a trial, either on Free Comic Book Day or through a special at my Friendly Local Comic Shop, and I really liked it -- but then it wasn't ever in stock. So now, I can catch up on all the back story and enjoy updates on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Rich was kind enough to send a second dispatch from the trip, this time from Skellig Michael. I'll post without further ado, though I may decide to write some of my own memories about that site. It's a wonderfully liminal space, and I think Rich has captured some of that here.

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Skellig Michael; a prime place for puffins, monks, and meditation

First, a little history and some factoids: Skellig Michael is about a 45 minute boat ride through ROUGH seas from the Southwest of Ireland. It looks like the tip of a steep and jagged mountain rising out of the sea. The Great Skellig and the nearby "Gannet Island," provide sanctuary and prime breeding grounds for thousands of seabirds including Murres, Gannets, and my favorite, Atlantic Puffins. It was over a thousand years ago that monks decided that this perilously rugged, utterly isolated, insanely steep rock rising from the mist of the sea would be the ideal place for a monastery.

What they created is awesome, as in awe inspiring, not as in "dude, thats awesome," though both are certainly true. Not only did they create three separate paths of stairs leading up the Skellig, but also a compound of beehive-shaped huts, a few chapels, a hermitage (which is inaccessible, yet still in existence today), a graveyard, and a garden that could sustain vegetables and even a few sheep. Even by modern standards, this is quite an achievement. Around about 900 AD, the cult of the Archangel/Saint Michael (the angel I hold closest to my heart by family tradition) spread to the Skellig, which, until that time had simply been known as "The Skellig" or "The Great Skellig." Then, they built a chapel and dedicated it, along with the Skellig, to Michael, who is the patron Saint of many things, including high and/or isolated places. Today, all of these things still exist--the steps, the garden, the chapel, etc.--even after Viking invasion (one of which cost the Skellig an abbot, who was carried away as a sort of human souvenir), and, perhaps more frightening, continuous invasion of modern people.

Skellig Michael is still perilous; just last year, two American (of course) tourists fell to their deaths while climbing the steps to the monastery. But it's not just perilous for humans! Did you know that seagulls eat puffins and bunnies? I didn't until I heard the most heart-wrenching squeaks coming from above me when I realized a seagull was carrying a small bunny in its beak. I was told this is very common. Who knew seagulls were so vicious?

Climbing from the "harbor" of the Skellig to the monastic settlement is a sobering experience. All the way up, the wind is blowing, the rocks are threatening, and the Puffins are cute. Just when you think you can't climb one more ancient step, you enter the monastery and the air is still (but for the loud and pointless chattering of some intolerable German and, you guessed it, American tourists. I realize I was also an American tourist, but at least I showed some decorum and quiet respect for the atmosphere). The monks were ingenious in how they carved out their settlement; by building walls around the outer perimeter, the wild air is channeled up and over so as to create a pocket of stillness and a sense of security.

This atmosphere was ideal for meditation. I sat on the altar of the chapel of St. Michael, tuned into the natural sounds around me, and tuned out the other people. This was remarkably easy to do in comparison to other sites I had visited and in which I had meditated. It may have been the endorphins of the climb, the adrenaline of the scary steps, or even the blessing of the Archangel, but everything melted away. Deep seeded worldly concerns (even ones I haven't thought of for a while) began to surface. With a very deep breath, and a long exhale, they seemed to evaporate. If you know anything about meditation, you know this usually takes more than a single breath, indeed a full meditation, to achieve. In place of these evaporating concerns, there seemed to be a light and a lightness that was not there before. I felt safe, secure, blessed, and not at all annoyed or even aware of distractions. I was able to sit in this state for quite a while until something within me seemed to click, like a gas pump when the tank is full (a vulgar image for such a divine experience, but that's what comes to mind as I sit near a busy street in central London). I felt as though my soul was full of light.

On the way down from the monastery (which is actually more terrifying than the way up), I didn't feel scared at all by the few hundred or so meters that separated me from a jagged rocky death. I felt like I wanted to stay and sleep in one of those huts with only a candle and a blanket to meditate for hours on end, just so I could keep replenishing that light that seemed to be fading with every downward step. Suddenly, it made sense why this place was, and still is, sacred. A great rugged rock, jutting out of the sea, far from anything that supposedly matters, somewhere between earth and heaven exists, by nature of its being, as a refuge for the soul. Even the mere experience of visiting Skellig Michael for a few hours is enough to make you immediately aware of your mortality just by climbing to the top. You sweat, you pant, you fear, you desire, you anticipate. When you reach the monastery, you have two choices (as I see it): you can stay on the mortal path, that which is characterized by climbing: you talk incessantly, you complain, you worry, you disrupt, you even use your mobile to transmit a part yourself away from the sacred place you are in. OR you can allow the site to do what IT was meant to do; to help you transcend toward the divine: you take in the atmosphere that has been provided by the ancients, you reflect, you allow yourself to be humbled, you truly live in the moment, you let go, and let the power of the site seep into your being. The path you choose is yours, but from my experience, transcendence was better than blind mortality.

All right, one week to get myself back on my feet, and here I am, returning to ye olde blog. (I was delayed in turning in my short story to my editor, and one of the things I forbade myself from doing was blogging before it was finished and ready to turn in.) But a couple of cool things happened today, and I wanted to make sure to blog about them, and update you guys on my goals from the trip, before Saturday turned into Sunday. (Hopefully, the novel tourism post will go up tomorrow!)

So, first cool thing: my review of Caitlin Kittridge's (blackaire's) novel, Street Magic, went up on Flames Rising. Matt was kind enough to post it for me on a Saturday, because the book has just hit the shelves, and I didn't want to have gotten an advanced reader copy for nothing! It's a really, really excellent novel, which I expound upon in my review. Check out what I had to say, and look for the novel at your local bookstore!

Second cool thing: I finally got to meet Anton Strout (antonstrout) (who is, for the record, the most beloved low-to-midlist urban fantasy writer in America, or so I hear) live and in person. He did a book signing up in Pittsfield, his home stomping grounds and not distant from my college stomping grounds. So finally, I have my books signed. Hooray! I decided that bringing him a PEZ dispenser would border on creepy fangirl, so I decided to eschew it and just bring books and questions and a big smile. He did a reading from the first chapter of Deader Still, which was brilliantly creepy and got wonderful reactions from the audience (including me -- I'd forgotten how vivid, and, frankly, gross, that scene was!). The best part, however, was his commentary -- as he was reading, he'd interrupt himself and tell us little bits about the characters or his word choice or things that he liked about the scene, which was a huge enhancement to the story for me. Also (and I hope I'm not blowing his cover), he is super nice in person. Based on his blog and his books, I was expecting more snark, but he was totally gracious and sweet. (And I'm not just saying this because he might find this entry later. These are honest impressions here!)

The Barnes and Noble in Pittsfield is pretty darn great. They didn't have Pandora's Closet in stock, sadly, but I did pick up Red Headed Stepchild by Jaye Wells and Angel's Blood by Nalini Singh. The staff was really great, too, but my favorite part was walking in and seeing a young woman reading manga with this huge grin on her face, totally oblivious to anyone walking by. Seeing the power of reading in person like that gives me a little thrill.

So, those are my good things. ( Now to catch up on my goals... )

Back in October, I contributed to Flames Rising's Halloween Horror Creatures series--and since I missed blogging for that whole month, I never mentioned that it had gotten posted! I did a piece on hounds of the Morrigan, using bits and pieces of real Celtic lore mixed with what I thought would be a fun monster, which is accompanied by a cool image from artist Jeff Preston.

Via Barbara Vey's Beyond Her Blog, the Carolina Romance Writers are hosting an online writing workshop using Firefly as the course material. It runs from January 5 through 30, and the cost runs $20. (I don't know what online writing workshops usually charge, but that sounds pretty reasonable to me.) If I thought I could actually commit to the online course structure, I'd definitely be there.

This one's interesting for web comic writers and artists--uclick is not only putting comics into format for iPhones, they are considering creating original content. Cell phones have already had an impact on the comics industry in Japan--whether the industry here will see a positive or negative spin if this catches on, we'll just have to see. And hey, this could be the next Zuda...

In other news, my new first reader (joining prior solo first reader Arielle), violet_whisper, did an awesome job going over "Rodeo in Area 51" with me. It clocked in at just about 7500 words after an edit I did with her notes. The most exciting part about it, though, was that she really got what I was trying to do. Since I knew from the beginning what the story was about and how it would end, I wasn't sure if all the ideas would come through--they were so clear to me, would another reader pick up on what I was doing? So talking to her about the piece and hearing her thoughts on what the story was all about was a great experience, because it meant that it worked as a whole.

I also just finished reading mindyklasky's Girl's Guide to Witchcraft. I'd already read Sorcery and the Single Girl, the second book in the series, without realizing I'd started in the middle. Having now read the first two, they actually work pretty well as stand alone novels; some series you have to pick up and read in order or you'll be lost. Klasky's seem to be enhanced by reading the other volumes, but also independent enough that they're still enjoyable out of order. They're both a lot of fun--I'd recommend them to folks have read and enjoyed shanna_s's "Katie Chandler" series. Both series are good, light-hearted contemporary fantasy without the grit of most urban fantasy or the described-in-detail romance scenes of paranormal romances. And they're fun.

Murphy's Ice Cream has posted the recipe for Honeycomb Ice Cream, possibly the best ice cream ever created by man. I searched for the true Irish recipe that I'd encountered at Murphy's in Dingle online, but my search came to naught, until Kieran at Murphy's promised to post it for me.

Thanks Kieran! You're the best!

I get a few days behind on everyone else's blogs from time to time, and realize I miss all sorts of interesting stuff. For example, blackholly posted an update on the situation at Tara, the spiritual center of Ireland now being threatened with destruction-by-highway. Protesters gathered, forming the shape of a harp as seen from above--the pictures are great. The link to the protest is here, while the movement itself is at SaveTara.com.

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The League of Reluctant Adults is still three days ahead of me in their blog, but I can't link directly to mdhenry's excellent entry about what to do before submitting your manuscript. I can just direct you to the Wednesday entry and hope you get a giggle out of his advice.

Edit: Thanks to dmoonfire, the direct link is here.

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I just finished reading volume 1 of Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis for the first time--something I've been meaning to do for years. As you may have guessed from reading this, I'm not normally a big fan of the autobiographical comics, but this one blew me away. At the end I was literally blinking away tears from the emotion of the last chapter. Just gorgeously done.