Self-Portrait In Spring

 

Scenes From A Winter Forest

Another Early Arrival

A January daimon, again. Rather like the winter hummingbird from before, a welcome but somber sight.

Daimones: A Summer Pair

I'd Like To Be Where They Are

Not sure where that is, but it looks like a place that's beyond my current place.  And that's enough for me.

Socrates' Daimon Spoke To Him

Mine do not speak;  they just silently reflect my moods, exactingly as a mirror.

Is That You, Count Orlok?

They're Back In Force

IT MUST REALLY BE SPRING

I still don't know what they are, what they are doing, how they come and go, or understand anything whatsoever about them.  Their nature is a complete and utter mystery to me.

But how wonderful to see them return in such wild, joyous profusion, and with such extravagant beauty!

It's Almost Spring

Warm daytime temps are returning -- and they are returning, as well.

As I have said once before, I don't know if these are a new generation or the same ones returning -- but either way, it's reassuring to know that the cycle continues.

Related post:  Daimones

Another Wonderful Discovery

TACKLING "DER ERLKÖNIG" WITH A COLD

Yesterday I happened across this daimon posing dramatically in the shade of a tree:

"mit Kron und Schweif"

The figure looked to me like all those mysterious and scary supernatural beings from all the fairytales of old rolled into one.  In particular, I was reminded of two characters:  Chernobog, the Satan-like deity in the 'Night on Bald Mountain' segment of Disney's Fantasia (1940), and "Der Erlkönig", the sinister spirit in the poem and song of the same name.  Which reminded me...

Some years ago I went to a party at a friend's house.  There I saw this attractive young woman sitting by herself, seemingly in sore need of a chivalrous gentleman to come and offer her his company.  I had come alone myself, so I offered her a glass of punch (turned out she already had one, but I hadn't noticed) and engaged her in conversation.  She spoke English with a charming foreign accent, and it turned out she was from Stuttgart, Germany (unlike many people in the English-speaking world, I happen to think German is a beautiful-sounding language).  Well, I had to do what I do whenever I run into a German person -- I proceeded to impress her by breaking into a heartfelt rendition of "Der Erlkönig" in the original German.  It's a truly wonderful lied, with the words of Goethe set to a melody by Schubert (others have composed tunes for the poem, but Schubert's version is the most famous -- the one most people automatically think of when they hear "Erlkönig";  also, it's the only version I can sing).  The song starts thus:

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

(Translation)
Who rides, so late, through night and wind?
It is the father with his child.
He has the boy well in his arm
He holds him safely, he keeps him warm.

-- and so on.  The words tell of the young child describing to his father the blandishments the "Erlkönig", or the Elf King (also rendered the Erl-King, although that could be a mistranslation perpetuated throughout history), the supernatural lord of the woods through which they are riding, is whispering to him, unheard by the father, to try and take him away.  The King starts out soft and seductive at first, but becomes increasingly insistent.  With each new enticement the child grows more frightened, and at each turn the father tries to reassure the child that it is only the leaves rustling or a sheet of mist, that he mistakes for the Elf King.  Finally the child cries out desperately that the Elf King is dragging him away -- and as the father, now terrified himself, reaches the destination, he finds the child dead in his arms.

Wow, I just got goosebumps as I typed those words, replaying the song in my head!  With an amazingly effective piano accompaniment to underscore the action, the song divides the drama among four vocal parts -- the Elf King, the child, the father, and the 'narrator' -- plus the galloping horse, whose hoofbeats are heard in the piano throughout the song.  When I first heard the song I was just a kid and had no idea what it was about, but I fell in love with it anyway.  I found the German lyrics somewhere, together with a translation, painstakingly worked out the pronunciation (interestingly, even though this happened when I was just ten or so, long before my move to the U.S. and acquirement of English, I had learned to read German and Italian phonetically by reading opera librettos) and read them aloud over and over until I had memorized them.  Talk about being obsessive-compulsive -- but I guess when your brain is still young and springy and absorbent you can do things like that.

The thing about trying to sing this song is, though, that the different vocal parts are sung at different pitches;  the narrator occupies the neutral, easy-to-sing middle register (except at the very end).  The victimized child and the Elf King are at the higher reaches of the range, and the father, calm and dignified, is lower-pitched than the others.  Although I like to sing, my vocal range is not so wide and when attempting "Der Erlkönig" I have to take care not to start too low, just so I can reach the lowest notes later.

It so happens I've been fighting a cold these last several days, and my voice is jammed way down in the basement.  Earlier while listening to Bryn Terfel's recording of "Erlkönig", I started to sing along, and even though Terfel is a bass-baritone, I found I could sing the low notes just fine, thanks to the cold^^

Anyway, back to the girl at the party -- she was suitably impressed.  She said she doubted most Germans even know all the words (no, I didn't sing the whole thing).  Then her big tall handsome and buff boyfriend came back.  So.

But I'll bet anything he couldn't sing a single line of "Der Erlkönig".

An Afterthought

Perhaps, if daimones could be assigned human faces, that lone individual might look like this?

An Early Arrival

Spotted today:  the first daimon of the winter!

So, one has made the return journey from wherever it is that daimones disappear to when they are not here;  but it's far too early for a proper return of the daimon population -- this individual is therefore something of an aberration.  Is it the daimonic equivalent of a misanthrope, preferring its own company to that of others of its kind?  Or does it simply possess a graver, more sensitive nature than its fellows, and find their discourse distracting?

Unexpected Discovery

A SINISTER DEVELOPMENT?


I just found this photo after uploading the previous post. Somehow it had escaped my notice before; all I can say is, I'm actually glad I didn't notice it at the time it was taken -- I think I would have been scared if I saw something like this among the trees.

Just going by its appearance, I would say this individual is clearly equipped for independent existence away from the trees, or at least to venture away from them for a time. This is a new and unexpected development. Will I start seeing this and other daimones like it in other places?

Daimon-May-Care

IT'S ALL IN THE ATTITUDE


I suppose I could be guilty of anthropomorphizing a bit, but with this confident, casual stance I wager this individual is probably considered 'cool' or 'debonair' among daimonkind.

Daimonic Evolution

Looks like I spoke too soon. Daimones are not all plant-like. It seems just some are, and others are more animal-like. I spotted this individual crouched in a fork of a tree. It did not move the entire time I was looking at it (granted, it was only for a minute or so before I had to leave), but there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that it is the daimonic equivalent of a tree-dwelling creature, such as a prosimian.

I did not notice such divergence in type among my daimones prior to this time; is it possible that when I first began to observe them they were in a somewhat dormant, pupa-like (and relatively undifferentiated) stage for whatever reason, and now that growing season is here, they are metamorphosing into their next, more active forms, diverging in body type as a consequence?

This is all purest speculation, of course, but if my guess is close to the truth it certainly is exciting and fascinating that in nature and supernature there are parallel systems of phylogenetic development -- apparently even sprites and elementals evolve.

But individuals do not evolve, only species do; evolutionary change requires the death of individuals. So... here's an interesting tangent:

Question: Are supernatural creatures subject to birth and death?

Answser: According to the Buddhist view -- yes, they are.

Seasonal Change In Daimones

It seems that, despite their quasi-humanoid appearance, the daimones -- at least the ones that inhabit the small groves in my area -- partake much more of the nature of plants than of animals. Since the rather abrupt arrival of warm weather after the dreary weeks of June gloom, they have undergone an explosive growth spurt, and as a result they are now looking much more like tree-men than men-trees (or should that be the other way around?)! With their outlines now a-bristle with, and even partly obliterated by, new growths, in some cases it is difficult to recognize their former partly-anthropomorphic form. Even so, I am gladdened by this exuberant display of their strength.

Monster Daimon #2

This individual is so misshapen that I did not recognize it as a daimon at first. I simply stopped to admire what I thought to be a marvelously evocative, grown-together clump of trees and took a snapshot of it.

Only then did I see it move. Slowly, ponderously, it unwound its gnarled appendages from the branches overhead and released its grip on the trunk to its left; then its upper portion twisted in a manner that convinced me that it was turning to look at me. And I was suddenly gripped by a sense of alarm; not that I felt in any imminent danger -- I did not feel at all threatened by it -- but on the contrary, I felt I was guilty of trespassing, of doing something shameful; that I was an intruder in a place where I had no business being. And that by distracting the daimon I was interrupting something private, even sacrosanct.

Quickly I stepped back, turned the camera off and turned to continue on my way. Then, struck by a sudden impulse, I turned back toward the daimon, said "I'm sorry" and went back the way I came. Somehow it didn't seem right that I should continue blithely on my way as if this incident were simply an inconsequential distraction.

Monster Daimon #1

I don't know how daimons reproduce, or if they even reproduce at all. Whatever the case though, it seems their ranks do include occasional accidents of nature(supernature?) -- if the individual(s) in this photograph is indeed the daimonic equivalent of a conjoined pair of twins that it seems to be.

Or perhaps I'm guilty of applying my anthropocentric worldview to a realm in which it is irrelevant; it may well be that this specimen is perfectly 'normal' in its proper context. One can never tell with daimons.

New Species?

I can't really point out what it is -- I guess it's just a feeling. It just seems to me there's something a little different about these daimones.

Maybe it's something about their attitude? They do seem more pensive -- more self-absorbed perhaps, and less shy than the others. Also they seem less caring about who sees them. Perhaps that's also what gives them their air of withdrawal and monumentality.

Daimones

With the advent of warm weather, I am seeing more and more daimones among the shady trees that line the path I walk every day at work. I wonder where they go in the winter? I do not think they are directly affected by the weather, not being made of vulnerable flesh like we are, but rather I think they just prefer the life-engendering properties of a warm, lush environment.

I cannot tell them apart, so I don't know if it's the same ones from last year returning; although some do look rather familiar, that could just be due to their generic similarity. I suppose they do look individually different to each other.