~~ collars. it's all about the collars.
Dec. 5th, 2004 02:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkaI've had an odd realization-- which is probably only interesting to me, seeing as it's a bit of quibbling on my internal terminology, but ah well. That's what I'm here for, right. Right.
I've thought that one of my archetypal interests was the journey & transformation of 'The Monster'-- whatever/whoever is feared and loathed and made into a symbol of the Dark within a particular story/legend. This kind of archetype could manifest as a vampire or a murderer or even someone 'alien' like the present day prejudice against the queer, for instance. And while it's true that's an interesting subject, I think what I'm really fascinated with is 'The Beast'-- or rather, everything beastly and dark and dangerous (for it is untamed) within any and all characters.
I don't know if I'm particularly happy with dwelling on characters that are already labelled 'dark' or frightening, which is probably one reason I've never been particularly attracted to villains in fiction. I'm much more drawn to ambiguity and the inner struggle with one's darkness than the outer struggle with others' perception of that darkness. So 'the Beast' seems a more apt metaphor-- because, indeed, we all have the shadow of the Beast within us, since it's basically the Id. It's a difference of direction.
Really, I'm obsessed with the workings of the Id in every which way, but it's especially delicious when that unknown Dark within has an outer manifestation-- as in Remus, for instance, because it's especially stark when one's 'other' self is subdued, closed-in, maybe even kind in a way. That's why, perhaps, I've always loved The Beast (in Beauty and the Beast) and it's been a favorite type of fairy-tale for as long as I remember, along with The Frog Prince (which has a similar theme, actually) and The Snow Queen (yet again, with the redemption of the beastly little boy by pure devotion, though none of these boys were truly monstrous).
When I was little, the idea of love making the impossible possible was what most fascinated me about the romances in in the stories I read. That transformation, perhaps, is the very definition of the sublime-- to convert, to render finer, to elevate. And in making the transformation literal, the story acquires a sort of mythic resonance-- in making the Beast into a Man, of course Beauty learns to love truly, where love isn't blindness unless blindness is forgetting to see and learning to see past.
I was thinking, particularly, of my recent frustration with how difficult it is to make Harry respect Draco post-OoTP-- and it occurs to me that maybe respect is really a form of seeing without prejudice, of acknowledging someone's worth without the constraints of Ego, which speaks with the voice of fear. The Id fears as well, of course, but its fears can be overcome with a process of waking up-- of seeing what is invisible to the eye-- what is essential. The threat of death is nothing when one loves with one's whole heart, for one's fear is no longer for oneself. I believe that.
I love the Beast who is not a monster-- who is only a manifestation of his own internal fears. And once the Beast learns to see himself with kindness (and to love as he is loved), well-- he transforms. It's not so much that I think the human form is purer (in the fairy-tale), as I think it's simply recombined. The darkness is still there beneath the pretty face, but as long as he is loved, the Beast can wear that face without true fear of himself. I think... I think that in loving the Beast, the Hero changes not so much the Beast's nature (because he was always himself) as his self-perception. And when we believe we are beautiful-- and loved-- we change how we act towards others. We change in the ways that matter.
I think... well, it's easy to make the parallel about just why it was so important for Remus to have friends that loved & accepted him. That's what someone who perceives himself as the Beast thrives on, after all-- that acceptance. It really would be interesting to write/read an AU trying to extrapolate Remus's development growing up if he'd never become part of the Marauders. I wonder if he would've been-- not different in a blatantly worse way, precisely... but-- completely untamed. Deeply distrustful-- not so much unkind as unwilling. I don't know.
It really does appear that Remus was tamed, doesn't it? Sort of. I'm thinking of it in the sense it's used in `The Little Prince', which, btw, teaches one everything one needs to know about life as far as I'm concerned (heh). The Fox tells the Little Prince that one becomes responsible for what one has tamed-- but without that taming, there can be no connection. He could not play with the Fox when it was a wild Beast, but likewise the Fox said he needed the boy to tame him.
And to tame is to belong.
"For me you're only a little boy like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you have no need of me, either. For you I'm only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we'll need each other. You'll be the only boy in the world for me. I'll be the only fox in the world for you..."
"I'm beginning to understand," the little prince said. "There's a flower... I think she's tamed me..."
The fox became silent and gazed for a long time at the little prince.
"I beg of you…tame me!" he said.
"Willingly," the little prince replied, "but I haven’t got much time. I have friends to discover and a lot of things to understand."
"One can only understand the things one tames," said the fox, "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy ready-made things in the shops. But since there are no shops where you can buy friends, men no longer have any friends. If you want a friend, tame me!"
--Antoine de Sainte-Exupéry
I've thought that one of my archetypal interests was the journey & transformation of 'The Monster'-- whatever/whoever is feared and loathed and made into a symbol of the Dark within a particular story/legend. This kind of archetype could manifest as a vampire or a murderer or even someone 'alien' like the present day prejudice against the queer, for instance. And while it's true that's an interesting subject, I think what I'm really fascinated with is 'The Beast'-- or rather, everything beastly and dark and dangerous (for it is untamed) within any and all characters.
I don't know if I'm particularly happy with dwelling on characters that are already labelled 'dark' or frightening, which is probably one reason I've never been particularly attracted to villains in fiction. I'm much more drawn to ambiguity and the inner struggle with one's darkness than the outer struggle with others' perception of that darkness. So 'the Beast' seems a more apt metaphor-- because, indeed, we all have the shadow of the Beast within us, since it's basically the Id. It's a difference of direction.
Really, I'm obsessed with the workings of the Id in every which way, but it's especially delicious when that unknown Dark within has an outer manifestation-- as in Remus, for instance, because it's especially stark when one's 'other' self is subdued, closed-in, maybe even kind in a way. That's why, perhaps, I've always loved The Beast (in Beauty and the Beast) and it's been a favorite type of fairy-tale for as long as I remember, along with The Frog Prince (which has a similar theme, actually) and The Snow Queen (yet again, with the redemption of the beastly little boy by pure devotion, though none of these boys were truly monstrous).
When I was little, the idea of love making the impossible possible was what most fascinated me about the romances in in the stories I read. That transformation, perhaps, is the very definition of the sublime-- to convert, to render finer, to elevate. And in making the transformation literal, the story acquires a sort of mythic resonance-- in making the Beast into a Man, of course Beauty learns to love truly, where love isn't blindness unless blindness is forgetting to see and learning to see past.
I was thinking, particularly, of my recent frustration with how difficult it is to make Harry respect Draco post-OoTP-- and it occurs to me that maybe respect is really a form of seeing without prejudice, of acknowledging someone's worth without the constraints of Ego, which speaks with the voice of fear. The Id fears as well, of course, but its fears can be overcome with a process of waking up-- of seeing what is invisible to the eye-- what is essential. The threat of death is nothing when one loves with one's whole heart, for one's fear is no longer for oneself. I believe that.
I love the Beast who is not a monster-- who is only a manifestation of his own internal fears. And once the Beast learns to see himself with kindness (and to love as he is loved), well-- he transforms. It's not so much that I think the human form is purer (in the fairy-tale), as I think it's simply recombined. The darkness is still there beneath the pretty face, but as long as he is loved, the Beast can wear that face without true fear of himself. I think... I think that in loving the Beast, the Hero changes not so much the Beast's nature (because he was always himself) as his self-perception. And when we believe we are beautiful-- and loved-- we change how we act towards others. We change in the ways that matter.
I think... well, it's easy to make the parallel about just why it was so important for Remus to have friends that loved & accepted him. That's what someone who perceives himself as the Beast thrives on, after all-- that acceptance. It really would be interesting to write/read an AU trying to extrapolate Remus's development growing up if he'd never become part of the Marauders. I wonder if he would've been-- not different in a blatantly worse way, precisely... but-- completely untamed. Deeply distrustful-- not so much unkind as unwilling. I don't know.
It really does appear that Remus was tamed, doesn't it? Sort of. I'm thinking of it in the sense it's used in `The Little Prince', which, btw, teaches one everything one needs to know about life as far as I'm concerned (heh). The Fox tells the Little Prince that one becomes responsible for what one has tamed-- but without that taming, there can be no connection. He could not play with the Fox when it was a wild Beast, but likewise the Fox said he needed the boy to tame him.
And to tame is to belong.
"For me you're only a little boy like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you have no need of me, either. For you I'm only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we'll need each other. You'll be the only boy in the world for me. I'll be the only fox in the world for you..."
"I'm beginning to understand," the little prince said. "There's a flower... I think she's tamed me..."
The fox became silent and gazed for a long time at the little prince.
"I beg of you…tame me!" he said.
"Willingly," the little prince replied, "but I haven’t got much time. I have friends to discover and a lot of things to understand."
"One can only understand the things one tames," said the fox, "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy ready-made things in the shops. But since there are no shops where you can buy friends, men no longer have any friends. If you want a friend, tame me!"
--Antoine de Sainte-Exupéry
