Inadvertently, Father Belly-ache tempted me. He educated me that The Golden Compass even existed. I'm twenty-seven years old. I read children's literature from time to time, but I don't keep up with it religiously. I may never had learned had Father Belly-ache not started up his campaign to destroy the movie's earnings.
Secondly, Father Belly-ache told me which fruit was the sweetest. I could go see the movie, but why do that if the book in more enlightening. So, I trounced down to Borders and picked up the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman.
I got two-thirds though The Golden Compass wondering why the Catholic Church despised the book so much. I had a hard time believing any child would pick up on it's nuances. In the last third, I understood Father Belly-ache more, but still thought the book's innocence was still pronounced. In fact, after reading the first book, I went to see the movie. I thought the movie went much further than the book even though I heard they tried to edit out the most controversial parts.
I read book two, The Subtle Knife eagerly over my Christmas holiday. I was delighted with the character of Will because he's such a classic children's book hero. With his missing father and his touched mother, Will's the 'orphan' that children's literature needs. He's self-reliant and untrusting. He's stubborn, yet has to master his instincts to complete his task. Will's the watchful older brother (or God) that you wish you had.
I understood more fully after reading books two and three why Father Belly-ache was worried. In this modern Adam and Eve story, Pullman turns the Fall into the Enlightenment. Instead of a negative, it's a positive. Honestly, the concept is clear. Who could consider innocence a more desirable state than experience? If the essence of God is all-good, all-powerful, and all-knowing than it would bring you closer to godliness to be more experienced. Innocence is the antithesis of Godliness.
I appreciated Pullman's emphasis on enjoying the delights of here and now. Again, Father Belly-ache would shutter. A higher power gave us our physicality and the experiences of the world we live in. Why would God in turn desire us not to engage in our world and to resist our most human impulses when those instincts aren't in conflict with the desires of another person? Like the World of the Dead, our own "Heaven" could be a wash. The best we may have to look forward to is to be absorbed into the ebb of energy that surrounds our physical Earth. If that is the case, why waste our time here praying, repenting, and suppressing? If our slight experience of this type of life last only sixty or seventy years before evaporating into one selfless enduring flow of energy or consciousness than it seems maddening to waste a moment of enjoying being something so singular.
On a final note for now, I found the back story of Mary Malone touched me personally. She seemed lost continually and always looking for consultation. However, in time she seemed to trust that being unsure is alright. She leaves the dutifulness of the Church because the taste of a candy rekindles a desire to experience intimate love again. That love she pursued ended and so did many other relationships. But Mary finds peace with both desiring new love and enjoying being single and being unsure about her future. It reenforced that it's okay to want new Love experiences, and at the same time, it's okay to consider your life complete and happy when those experiences aren't present. That's Tiffany: 2007; and my daemon has been assured that's it's quite alright to feel contentment and happiness while desiring something more. Thanks Mary.
I finished The Amber Spyglass tonight. I'll admit I cried. Lyra and Will reminded me of experience I had ages ago when I was a very young woman saying goodbye to someone through a pane of glass, and feeling as though he might as well have been a world away. It was my "taste.. memory... landslide" moment. The love I had for the person on the other side of that pane is hard to recall because it's complicated by what has happened since, but the pain I felt was acutely recalled. That memory hasn't been polluted.
One of my dogs, Cyprus, was by my side when I finished the books. His freckled face looked up at me with such longing for attention that I was happy to push aside the book to scratch his belly. He made me wonder what type of daemon I would have. I much too rooted to one spot to be something as freewheeling as a bird. I'm not eager to please enough to be a dog. I suppose I could be some type of cat even though I dislike cats. I like being alone. I like doing things my way, and I'm mistrusting of other's intentions on an instinctual level. That's cat-like I think. Maybe a Kneazle.
Love,
Tiff
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