The Law of the Jungle

 

Image by Mohamad Afiq Haikal Zaihan

Remember this: The night is for hunting.

Now this is the Law of the Jungle--

as old and as true as the sky;

And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, 

but the Wolf that shall break it must die.

As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk

the Law runneth forward and back--

For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf,

and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.

Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip;

drink deeply, but never to deep;

And remember the night is for hunting,

and forget not the day is for sleep.

The Jackal may follow the Tiger,

but, Cub, when their whiskers are grown,

Remember the Wolf is a Hunter--

go forth and get food of thine own.

Keep peace withe Lords of the Jungle--

the tiger, the panther, and bear.

And trouble not Hathi the Silent,

and mock not the Boar in his lair.

When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle,

and neither will go from the trail,

Lie down till the leaders have spoken--

it may be fair words shall prevail.

Image by Theerapong khaotong

When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack,

ye must fight him alone and afar,

Lest others take part in the quarrel,

and the Pack be diminished by war.

The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge,

and where he has made him his home,

Not even the Head Wolf may enter,

not even the Council may come.

The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge,

but where he has digged it too plain,

The Council shall send him a message,

and so he shall change it again.

If ye kill before midnight, be silent,

and wake not the woods with your bays,

Lest ye frighten the deer from the crop,

and your brothers go empty away.

Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates,

and your cubs as they need and ye can;

But kill not for pleasure of killing,

and seven times never kill Man!

If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker,

devour not all in thy pride;

Pack-Right is the right of the meanest;

so leave him the head and the hide.

The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack.

Ye must eat where it lies;

And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair;

or he dies.

Image by Pornphan Suriyakhamwong

The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. 

He may do what he will;

But, till he has given permission,

the pack may not eat of that kill.

Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling.

From all of his Pack he may claim

Full-gorge when the killer has eater;

and none may refuse him the same.

Lair-Right is the right of the Mother.

From all of her year she may claim

One haunch of each kill for her litter,

and none may deny her the same.

Cave-Right is the right of the Father--

to hunt by himself for his own;

He is freed of all calls to the Pack;

he is judeged by the Council alone.

Image by Muhammad Saifulloh

Because of his age and his cunning,

because of his gripe and his paw,

In all that the Law leaveth open,

the world of your Head Wolf is Law.

Now these are the Laws of the Jungle,

and many and mighty are they;

But the head and the hoof of the Law

and the haunch and the hump is--Obey!

From the Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling

Sylvia Plath: A Queen Bee's World

Image by Andre Ramos

 

Remember this: The queen bee's world is one moment of terrible limited splendor circumscribed by sacrifice.

As I had previously mentioned, there was a swarm of bees nestled on a t-post beside an old chicken coop on the property. They were very loud. Surrounding the property were several fields planted in wheat and canola. The canola grew out with bright yellow flowers atop the plant much like a wild mustard. Since this crop has been planted, I have seen all manner of bird and beast. I decided to help these bees out because the birds were flying above the field picking them and anything else off. I left them alone then went about the business of getting myself a wooden bee hive. A local man, who raised bees but didn't have any, sold me a used box in good condition for ten dollars. Which used, the box hives are eighty seven dollars. I cleaned the cedar box with disinfectant, dried the box then varnished the outside to keep the rot off the wood. I could already see there were remnants from bugs past. I didn't want to spread a disease. I wasn't sure if the bees would like this as their home because they seemed pretty annoyed when someone with white went near them. I thought it was funny how beekeepers look like the government when extraterrestrial clean-up in movies are required. That's right. Fox Mulder has the four one one on the guys in white; stealing the honey. Two episodes of the X-Files were Zero Sum and Herrenvolk with the virus-carrying bees. I pondered on when bees attack.

I bought some black netting from the grocery store and covered my head and wore cattle gloves. I picked up this yellow jug off the ground they migrated into and put it inside of the cedar bee box. I then did a little research and fixed a sugar board onto one of the cedar racks. I didn't put a sugar board in this new pine wood box I built as of yet, so the bees moved to the one with the sugar board. They were humming along then silence. I thought I had killed them but they were happy as clams in mud. I have never seen a honeycomb produced so fast. It looks like a white fossil. I was amazed. I had never seen bees doing their work before except in a video. After moving the second lot, I wondered after they took up residence in the cedar box if the queen could be found. I was worried I had done her in. I read you can shock bees by over-handling them which I wasn't doing.

This morning I went out while it was cool. I picked up the top box which is a cardboard box with hole handles in it. I looked inside and spied on them. Not one of them attacked me. I looked down and there she was right in the middle with her back-end into the amber colored gel doing her business. I laughed, took a photo for a happy moment then covered them back up to eat, drink, and be merry. I figured I would just leave them alone and keep water close by. The waterer I used is a chick waterer with pea stones around the outside. I looked at the online versions but after peeling pears outside and having honey bees, wasps, and yellow jacks suck the juice off my hands, I decided it would be easier for them to land on rocks then suck up the water. You just don't want them to drown. These bees had also got between some tobacco barns. I put the box hives up on a table then covered them with an huge beach umbrella so they would not be in direct sunlight. I was jealous and wished someone would care for me like that. I love bugs.

My plans right now are to keep the bees happy and let them reproduce because a lot of bees die from misadventure. This was one of my goals in life. I wanted some bees and here they came swarming near the sweet potatoes. Its a sign....or a swarm. Who cares? I got bees that are free to go at any time. I am not holding them captive.

I thought what could I offer up as some interesting reading aside from the how-to books. Before the bees came I checked out some reading material from the library. This one particular work was based on Plath's poems on beekeeping. 

We all know Plath commits suicide. She was a very troubled woman. Plath was very adept at using situations of the female to impress upon females thoughts, insights and ideas in her confessional style of poetry. She takes a condition that exists in nature then applies this condition to her life; she is a form of queen bee who seeks release in eventual death after laboring under the watchful eyes of others to some end. If Plath could have transcended past the confines of the intangible boundaries she and other people put around her, she might have lived but when others are holding you down at their whim with little care for the damage they are doing you it is no wonder she killed herself. People are cruel and feel justified in their cruelty because they are looking down or controlling another while they would not want that done to them. Cruelty aside, there are people that just do not question the way things just are. It is accepted much like a man going to his beheading without hope of rescue. Worse yet, with troubled souls the thoughts they think kill them just as fast without anyone's help.

Sylvia Plath wrote about five or six poems on the keeping of bees. Each one is an evaluation of self contained governance inside of a hive, the behavior and thoughts of the speaker where the inner drama is going on.

Plath explores the power order inside the hive. When comparing psychologist David Holbrook's claim about Plath: “Be(e)ing seems a threat to one who doesn't know how to be.”

I would wonder if he believed that Plath was so controlled by constant brainwashing of her role as a female in society that when she butted up against the real her, she was beside herself with confusion and frustration for not being able to move to the plane of existence that was meant for her; instead of the one dictated to her by the era she lived in. She had already superseded in her mind and severed herself away from the mundane life she dwelled in but her mind couldn't consolidate the fact the mind was freer than the actual physical body.

Much like the queen; pregnant with offspring's ideas and these products being put in small circular cells for safekeeping until ready. Yet she is isolated between births as its a never-ending cycle of giving life while she slowly dies. Plath could have been trapped in her own attic while she held a key. She could be locked inside her own mind with the key within reach but yet stares off blankly into an unknown distance; still incarcerated by her own unwillingness to push open the lower door and walk out. This could be the problem with Plath.

The queen must suffer a unique regal motherhood. Plath's motherhood was her poetry and her suffering stemmed from the isolation of the workings of her mind and the constraints put upon it; she should have just let go of dogma.

Image by Gerardo Giuseppe

Let us consider the shrewd queen bee.

“The controlling force of the poem is the shrewd queen bee, powerful in her very evasiveness. She proves her cleverness by refusing to show herself, whether to avoid a duel with the younger virgins or to escape some random fate from the villagers. To her, power is an attitude, a matter of perceiving life and death, the familiar and the terrible, simultaneously. She manipulates the visible from her vantage point of isolation. Physically, her fate is in others' hands. Mentally she remains untouched, undetected, her mind as well as her body “sealed in wax.” Likewise, the inducted speaker—exhausted from the tedium of ignorance, fear, and unanswered questions—chooses immobility. Despite her outward conformity, she remains “a gullible head untouched by their {the bees} animosity.” (Broe 100)

I thought this very interesting as I delved into my antics and shenanigans with the honey bees. I hope that my little part to play with the propagation of pollinators is rewarding as well as functional. The world needs more pollinators.

If you would like to read Plath's work online, I found a blogspot that has it available because this work is hard to find online so you would have to use a library card or buy a book with the work published inside.
Enjoy.

http://strongverse.blogspot.com/2013/01/sylvia-plaths-bee-poems.html

 

Written by: Angelia Y Larrimore

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Enjoy Sylvia Plath!

Bunk Bed Buddies: The Walking Dead



Remember this: Sex is not the center of the Universe.

Last night I was watching The Walking Dead’s episode, “Consumed”. I also watched the Talking Dead with Chris Hardwick.

The content on both shows was interesting and thoughtful.

I was impressed by the input of Yvette Nicole Brown. She is the kind of person you can have deep intellectual conversations with because she pays attention. Life is magic when you have a listener.

I have thoughtful perspectives on this and wanted to share for whoever watches the show. I wondered if anyone shared this particular thought.

If I were the character what would I be thinking, feeling, or remembering from history I didn’t know. I was an archeologist digging into the minds of strangers based on my experiences; making up my own tales.

The online fodder revolves around Daryl being gay or hooking up with Beth or Carol, or both. I don’t particular subscribe to this potential storyline. That is the writer’s path. I do find it fascinating the way in which the writers handled this episode.

When Carol and Daryl are on the bunk bed talking, I did not get the feel of any kind of sexual chemistry. Likewise, I don’t see this with Beth either. I was reading the content writ in online conversations and between Hardwick and his panel. The posture by Daryl is of an overly protective brother.

Fathers and brothers can surrogate for the female in a non-sexual way until the female finds a mate. This is why it is important for the male role not be a violent one. This helps the female determine if the potential mate is an asshole-to-be-avoided. She will compare non-relative men to this example. If it is a poor example, God help you man that you overcome her problems if you so desire to pursue a woman that you feel is worth it.

I wondered. Why it is so important for people to see something that is not necessarily there? The viewer wants the idea to be true because it is lacking in their life or they just want to see it to fulfill some fantasy. You must always ask in the back of your mind, is it true or distorted. Is the viewer happy to see traumatized people have a happy moment; a moment in a sea of dead zombie shells. This scenario only complicates the storyline and suffering of the characters. This is great material for the writer. At the basis of this show is literature, which the visual is built upon.

What I saw on the bunk bed was a platonic surrogacy. The universe is always delivering unto its life forces things they need to get them over the hump, if recognized.

In the Walking Dead Cosmos, surrogate benefactors nurture and move the characters on. The reality they knew before is now replaced by a bastardized version of what life is at present. No one is safe. 

Carol, a domestic abuse survivor, probably has thoughts on life being more secure before the zombie apocalypse. Even if it is with an abuser. 

Was it better to be a relationship victim where escape to a normal life was possible? Or is it worse to be stuck in a hell of zombies and good people turning into less-than-human killers? Or is that humanity at its basis form? Those good people you otherwise wouldn’t kill but now have to.

I could say animals but that’s derogatory because humans are animals. There was reference to Rick’s group now being animals. Why treat humans above reproach when humans are not?

This is how I saw Daryl. Daryl at that moment was the surrogate man Carol probably wanted or needed before the apocalypse; the man that would take care of distasteful things in times of emotional and physical lows without the abuse. He’s the guy you will sleep with but not love, have him fix your car but give no thanks as you ride off into the sunset with someone else, and call to whine about your problems while treating him like an emotional dumping ground. The silver lining in the surrogate’s cosmos is he may be used temporarily, but such good karma he has built could be repaid with some gift from the universe; thus rectifying karmic debt. We all want a person or group to alleviate the begrudged burdens that are forced upon us.

When Daryl tells Carol she doesn’t have to act or make a decision in the building with the child and adult zombie, Daryl realizes Carol’s affliction. At times we don’t want to admit our problems when the closest to us see them clearly. The only way the afflicted can come to terms and acknowledge these problems is self-realization. Being told you have a problem tends to flare up the denial in the person it is issued to.

Up to this point, even though Carol is with Daryl moving through a landscape as part of a unit, Carol seems to be thinking in terms of the individual separate from Daryl; making the decision to follow through with complicated problems, not because someone asked her to but because she takes it upon herself. This could speak to Carol’s inability or lack of education on interacting in relationships and distrust of significant others. She sees herself as being more capable to deal with the situation without realizing how it drains her and that someone more capable is standing right there. Carol carries this idea there is no other option but to carry burden, is implied.

There again, another viewer may not see this because that is what I see. I am internalizing the scene in terms of my past experiences.

Daryl’s character punch comes in short bursts, which is more effective than other characters. To some degree, Daryl is unconsciously applying horse training techniques on Carol. He applies pressure on Carol as she moves away in denial.  This tactic is implied with the conversation of who Carol is from Carol’s standard versus how Daryl knows her when they are looking at a painting. Carol moves away in denial because she claims Daryl doesn’t really know her. Daryl begs to differ. Then there is Noah under the bookcase, Daryl moves away to Carol’s panic. Carol goes in and acts to stop the zombie.

How do you get someone to make the right choices with the right pressure without traumatizing them further into mistrust or detachment?

I began to realize there was this pressure from the masses for Daryl to have sex with someone or something. I became aggravated that the character of Daryl couldn’t just develop at his own pace but now was being poked and prodded by unknown assailants that wanted him to bed the older woman, the younger woman, etc.

Carol is the semi-mature, older woman with what some would consider fading beauty or beauty with age and wisdom. Being close to his age would be more socially appropriate. She appears more of a motherly type.

Beth is the nubile youth growing into a woman through brutal acts and situations. On some level, Beth is mentored by Daryl but some viewers want this dynamic to turn into a sexual relationship. This is seen a lot in movies where older men are connected physically with younger women.

I am dwelling more on Daryl’s character here. He is the center of that particular universe through manipulation. He seems to be making or not making the decisions on his ethic where women, age, and who gives a shit comes into play. His character might feel he doesn’t have time for that or doesn’t need it.  Beth and Carol are fruit on a tree and he just has to decide which one to eat. What if Daryl were picked by someone? Someone he wasn’t particularly enamored with immediately; maybe enamored but in denial or just doesn’t notice because anxiety, deranged people, his standing on a constant ledge of madness and mayhem daily leaves him with the decision to not go there. Should Daryl be suspended in emotional animation or moved along into some fate worse than death, love or hate of a particular nature? Why is this so important?

The reactions of the world made room for puzzling over this. Do people really want happy-endings for favorite characters? Are viewers more concerned with who is hooking up with who? Should this be denied to the public or handed over? When you spend time watching a show to see who hooks up, you don’t get the sublime messages that are more meaningful. It is overshadowed by the potential for sex.

Shifting your mentality to what really matters when dealing with people that is not sex driven is where you truly connect to people and yourself. Emotionally developed characters can exist even while occupying a tragic landscape.

Daryl, Carol, and Beth can separately develop while being together and not in a sexual way. The sexual component lessens the family dynamic being built yet chess pieces can move into positions previously not occupied, but at what cost?

Relationship changes are not always for the best on the board. Connecting on the familial level is more important because sex is not the glue to relationships. If it is, the glue can wear away and the relationship shows the hallow emptiness of what was only a voyeur’s desire to see sex. This sex could be a lowering of the character and the spirit surrounding them. The characters are not barflies, getting drunk, and looking for love in all the wrong places while stabbing zombies in the head. Relationships are important components because even the characters walk along stabbing zombies in the head with no second thought to it. Killing the zombies is white noise to the viewer. This hook-up attitude can indicate a degrading of the character.

Daryl is the male sacrificial virgin. He has wings on his back and people want to see the character that has been elevated to archangel status fall to Earth by the hand of a love interest. This only works when it is the right person. Anything less would not get the same effect. It has to be quietly epic. Maybe people want to vicariously experience a perceived supernatural biblical moment. The fallen angel has to burn or become the thing it was before the fall. Do viewers want to see a sullying of characters to make them more sinful, more human, or average in terms of human nature? Handled right it could be the most beautiful thing but always potentially tragic.

After watching so many shows where sex is carnal and debasing to the character but conveyed or interpreted as empowering, I would just like to see a character find their way without being molested for viewers satisfaction on the character’s terms via the writer; not always the helpless badass blowing in the breeze.  

When you like characters equally in these potential hook-ups there is going to be a loser. People want connection but there isn’t thought put into the type of connection or where it is headed. Making sound decisions towards relationships tell you whether they will work out or not.

On-the-fly relationships could develop into meaningful things but only with work.

I began to think in terms of Carol, Beth, and Daryl as an outsider making decisions on what they needed, not what they wanted. Funny, how the outsider always sees something etched on the outer and inner shell of the person. Sometimes that interference from the outside world puts the character on the path or diverts the character off. It could also be a manifestation of the inner self’s development into the end product.

I wondered what kind of character, if any, would best be applied to the character of Daryl. I didn’t necessarily think it was Beth or Carol long term.

To best torture the character of Daryl the opposing character would have to be a sort of wild animal in the form of a devil combined with an angel, which is what Daryl is so the character would be reflective. The character would have to have the ability to kill, save, love, or hate Daryl, who would mutually be tortured by this dynamic yet not want to live with or without the other.  Again, it could be as in real life; nothing, finding no one ever, and dying all alone wondering why you weren’t good enough or chosen.

I refer back to those famous wings. In the strata of God and the Devil, the ultimate reconciliation would be this particular relationship. God must merge with the Devil, as one. This function would be Daryl with Daryl; Daryl with another person(s). There would be no moving on into other relationships without the malice of disappointing failure.  The common denominator is to be right with one's self before being right for another.

As humans we rush in blindly to complicated, torturous unmaintainable love-hate-sex-empty relationships. We even attach ourselves to people out of security and familiarity but does it ever make us feel the way we should? What exactly is that feeling and will we know it or do outside things distract us such as who Daryl will have sex with. Do we just want another image to add to the sex fantasy reel of Daryl doing it with someone regardless of the female face attached? Viewers can transpose their face onto Carol’s or Beth’s and be the one Daryl is with. What does Daryl represent as the male character?    

I really enjoyed this episode and could talk on it more. I’ll just sit here on my perch and read online fodder which tickles me on occasion; people and their online comments.

People do watch the show loyally so it is not just Daryl getting laid. If that ever came out I am sure people would have Hurricane-type parties where they pile on a couch just to see poor Norman Reedus giving it all he’s got. The expectation has got to be either crushing him or challenging him. I would hide on the Mothership to if everyone was peer pressuring me to death with sex. Maybe he just wants a motorcycle ride and a cold Slurpee?

Sex is never the long-term answer. This little monster wears away and you start seeing the real person you are sleeping with. Some poor souls don’t get to sleep in the bed overnight. They get kicked out where the cat stares from the warm cozy window at them out in the snow.  

Sex is a smaller facet of a bigger jewel. Feeding a voyeuristic need to spy on a character solely for the satisfaction of watching a character’s sex act seems to me a slap in the face to the character, especially when the character is being developed into a person with a life of its own. I asked myself this question: If it were my lover or husband would I want to share them, in that way, with the world? Or would I want to keep some things sacred? Would I want them to feel like I put them on the sacred pedestal, protected from grabbing, unloving hands?

It’s like saying to the character, “I don’t care about you. You are just here for my jollies.” I can warrant this attitude in people’s real lives as viewers.

I am not a prude but when did the happy ending stop at the moment two people have sex? Do people live for that magical moment solely and not the millions of moments thereafter with the person? Why in my mind do I feel this empty space of self-induced amnesia or dementia when I hear people talking about “the moment” and nothing of substance follows?

It’s bad enough when you are a teenager going through puberty that your friends pressure you into sex, your relatives constantly ask you if you’ve found someone, or you avoid going out because you don’t want to feel the rejection. The other side of this seedy coin is finding out the other person fragrantly lied to you thus making you a fool and they, a tart.

The ones you were interested in didn’t like you back, making you feel unsexy. Ergo I say this, but you aren’t psychic and maybe they did but your mind talked you out of it.

God help those unwed, deep in their thirties, forties and beyond. People eyeball and whisper they will never get married then give up on them; like you have to make those people with judgey eyes happy.  

I am laughing at myself for saying that but oh well.

Written by: Angelia Y Larrimore

~Courtesy of the AOFH~