Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Dreaming Up Synchronicity

 According to Carl Jung, synchronicity is:
the experience of two or more events, that are apparently causally related or unlikely to occur together by chance, that are observed to occur together in a  meaningful manner. (via wikipedia)

Synchronicity is like Serendipity, I think. You have to be observant in order to reap the benefits. Research is one of those things where you hope for a bit of both.

Part of my daily routine is reading some non-fiction before bedtime. (If I read fiction, I can't put it down.) Right now I have The New Secret Language of Dreams by David Fontana on the nightstand. It's a pretty book, easily followed and quite entertaining. It's another one of my Border's sale rack finds and I'm reading it to refine my fortunetelling threads. If you recall my previous post:

My method uses a connection to djinn via the fortuneteller. A medium taps into the superconscious telepathy to scry your fortune. The patterns and symbols which appear in the cup are translated into a fabulous story, which may or may not apply to you.

In my theory, the djinn uses a distanced perspective to view multiple people, their actions and possible circumstances. The synchronicity in the world around you determines your most likely path. Then the djinn tosses some symbols in the coffee cup, tea leaves, runes, or what have you, for the fortuneteller to read.

I relate it to reading dreams like this: Your mind assigns a symbolic object to something you are trying to comprehend in real life, but in a dream world. When you step back and overlap the two worlds, you'll find the synchronicity leading to understanding. Hopefully. Well, I am writing fiction. And fiction has to be logical, if fantastical.

Being a writer is like being a foretuneteller. Synchronicity happens for me when I place story threads next to each other and see where they overlap, devining my character's journey, if you will. And that's how I'm going to mix a neo-byzantine djinn queen with pirates, Mithraism...and a creepy cave full of dripping limestone.

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Monday, March 28, 2011

Hazelnut = Heaven

Lots of hazelnutsImage via Wikipedia
All this research on pirates and paganism is making me hungry... What's a writer to do? I can't step away from the keyboard more than a few minutes, the thread is like an anchor, but other people are howling for nourishment around here. (It's 3 pm on Friday, as I'm writing this. I didn't have lunch.)

A quick piece of chocolate is my favorite pick-me-up snack, but chocolate and hazelnuts... well, that's heaven for me. I first tried Nutella as a teen on vacation in Canada. We couldn't even get the stuff here yet, unless a specialty grocer carried it. Now I can pick up a double pack at Costco. :D

My standby is a quick Nutella sandwich, but Giada de Laurentis goes crazy and makes all sorts of yummy stuff with it. Heck, everybody's doing it now! (There's a link to some rather yummy looking Nutella Cheesecake bars below.) Unfortunately, even a double pack doesn't go very far in this house - so not much is left for recipes. World Nutella Day is February 5th, btw, in case you have an awesome recipe and want to commemorate the day. (Please share it with us!)

Here's the did-you-know part:

The Turkish Black Sea coast is the largest source of hazelnuts in the world.

Yup! I did not know that, until I started paying attention to ingredients after I had kids. The label on the Milka chocolate bar I picked up at World Market mentioned Turkey. (If you like Nutella, you must try a Milka bar!)

So since Turkey is the largest producer of hazelnuts, it's reasonable that there's a national brand like Nutella. Çokokrem is probably the most widely known. Sometimes I'll find other brands, but the best indicator for quality is the amount of hazelnuts in the mix. The ones with high nut content brag about it on the label.

Turkish kids start the addiction at a young age:

Ülker Çokokrem by blognotte

There are lots of other hazelnutty things to like, if Nutella isn't for you. For example, Frangelico liquor (monk-shaped bottle in ref to the great painter/friar), or toasted hazelnut crusted anything...

Here in North Carolina, farmers are planting hazelnuts so they can grow truffles. I can't wait for Turkey to catch on to this one!  I should go buy some land on the Black Sea coast... maybe start a writers' retreat with some cute cottages tucked into the orchard for the off season. :)

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Friday, March 25, 2011

Coracesium & Caves

via Wikipedia
Coracesium of the Cilician Pirates exists only in history books. The city is now known as Alanya and the castle is medieval. I'll come back to the castle for a later post, but I'm following the pirate thread a little further with a search for caves.

Mithraic temple caves would be the best, but they're hard to find, so let's visit some other ones we can tour.

Damlataş: Literally "dripping stone", which is very well illustrated in the picture on the right. It's located near Damlataş Beach and is the most accessible cave.


Phosphorescent cave is supposedly quite beautiful, if you can get to it with a small boat. Then there's Pirate's Cave (left). You need a boat for this one too- and if you're a pirate, you might like to hide yours in there. :) However, nearby Lover's Cave is known as the place where pirates kept their loot.

Lots of boat tours follow the coastline, allowing people to swim in and out of the caves along the way. Pretty cool, but I just hope all the tourism doesn't wind up ruining the place.


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Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Secret Rites of Mithras

Double-faced Mithraic relief. Rome, 2nd-3rd ce...Image via WikipediaI'm up to my ears researching Cilician Pirates and any possible ways I can connect them to the Cilician djinn in my story. Last week, a footnote about Mithraism tickled my synapses and sent me off looking for info on that and... Violá! I was at a book swap, when out of only a handful of books what should appear? A hardbound copy of "A History of Pagan Europe" with a blurb on the back about Constantine. Thinking I might find some interesting tidbit about Vanadis or Byzantium, I tucked it under my arm and went on my merry way.

At home later, I randomly opened the book to an underlined passage on Mithraism! Uh...something is pointing me in that general direction.

So today we have: The Secret Rites of Mithras! Or what I can make sense of it. Remember when I connected the djinn to Zoroastrianism? Well, Mithraism is somehow connected to Zoroaster, and guess what - to the Cilician pirates too!

Here's where I started to make two columns -
What I Know and What I Need to Find Out (and a WTF column too, but nevermind that one.)

What I Know:
  • Mithra was one of the deities of the syncretic Graeco-Iranian royal cult founded by Antiochus I, king of the small, but prosperous "buffer" state of Commagene, in the mid 1st century BC (wikipedia)
  • The first Cilician pirate was supposedly Seleucid, which is right next door to Commagene.
  • Indo-Persian Mithras was born from a rock. He struck water from stone with an arrow. He killed a sacred bull. His pal was the god Sol. He and Sol feasted on the bull. Then Mithras ascended to heaven in a chariot.
  • Mithras was portayed as a young hero with a dagger and he wore a Phyrigian hat (something to do with liberty which I don't fully understand yet.)
  • In the depiction of the feast, a follower points the caduceus (decidedly Platonic and yet related to Kundalini) at a flame near the base of the altar. (The flame is very significant to a djinn - so is Kundalini.)
  • Mithraists worshipped in underground caves or rooms, usually near a spring or water source. There was usually a basin in the temple. Evidence points to a constellation mural on the ceiling.
  • This guy on the right (a leontocephaline) had something to do with them and only them. (separate post next week - I hope!)
  • There are lots of caves in the rock faces of Cilicia Trachea.
What I Don't Know:

  • Was Mithraism founded by Zoroaster? Lots of clues point to him, but there isn't a smoking gun.
  • Was there something to do with equinox and a shift in the way people perceived astronomy? Did someone create a new religion? OK...but why use an avestan (persian, for lack of a better explanation) name?
  • Is Mithras another name for Perseus? Perseus is above Taurus in the stars and the stories share ideas.
  • What does Mithraism have in common with summer solstice? Records indicate a celebration then, which would make sense if Sol was important. Aside - December 25th is an important day for Mithras - his birthday. World religion and spirituality is so intertwined it's hard to find the thread I need.
  • How can I tie in to the djinn world better? Notice there are lots of links to past posts today, so it shouldn't be that difficult, and yet...there's sooo much info I'm in a quagmire. Which is how I felt with Sybil last time I was plotting, so it can only be a good thing...right?
And lastly...Why do I always find the MOST obscure things to research?? I used to think this stuff was so awesome when I was in college....Sigh.

Rudyard Kipling:

MITHRAS, God of the Morning, our trumpets waken the Wall!
' Rome is above the Nations, but Thou art over all!'
Now as the names are answered, and the guards are marched away,
Mithras, also a soldier, give us strength for the day!

Mithras, God of the Noontide, the heather swims in the heat,
Our helmets scorch our foreheads ; our sandals burn our feet.
Now in the ungirt hour; now ere we blink and drowse,
Mithras, also a soldier, keep us true to our vows !

Mithras, God of the Sunset, low on the Western main,
Thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again !
Now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn,
Mithras, also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn!

Mithras, God of the Midnight, here where the great bull dies,
Look on Thy children in darkness. Oh take our sacrifice !
Many roads Thou hast fashioned: all of them lead to the Light,
Mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright!

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Monday, March 21, 2011

Stuffed Cabbage - Two Ways

I'm torn. I can't pick a favorite way to stuff a cabbage. Seriously! It would be like choosing between my kids. I'm half Polish, but my husband is who wins? Usually my mother ends up making the Polish variety and I end up never making the Turkish one. (Because cabbage stinks up the house when you cook it and it requires some planning. Who has time for planning? Sorry, honey!)

There's the Turkish/Middle Eastern method....

Lahana Sarması:
Core the cabbage. Boil in salted water until just tender. (Don't overcook it.) Drain and cool on a clean dishtowel. Cut the spines out of the leaves. Cut big leaves in half.


1/2 pound of ground lamb (or beef).
2 onions chopped fine
1/2 cup rice (medium grain)
1/2 cup parsley, chopped fine
Salt, pepper, and a dash of cumin.
Garlic to taste. (One head, roughly chopped - per mother-in-law)
Mix all these together until well combined.

Line the bottom of the pot with leftover small pieces of cabbage. Spoon a heaping tablespoon of filling and roll, folding in the sides and tucking the end under. Cover with water, placing a large heat-proof plate on the top to hold the rolls down. 

Boil, then simmer for 30-35 minutes til tender.

Serve with plain yogurt. To be honest, I think this is more of a middle eastern recipe. Turks would probably use more herbs and less garlic. Our family has lived in lots of places. :)

And the Polish Method....

Cabbage as above.

1large onion, chopped
2 Tablespoons butter
1 1/2 pounds ground beef
1 1/2 cups cooked rice (my babcia used barley sometimes)
1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup beef stock

Boil and simmer as above, or you could bake them for one hour in an oven at 350.

Top with plain tomato sauce. (Or ketchup if you're a kid, like me!)

Sheesh! I'm hungry... Which one would you choose? Do you have any variations? Alesa?
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Friday, March 18, 2011

The Return of the (Hittite) Sphinx


It's not a book title - although it sounds like a promising read. I'm referring to the ancient Hittite Sphinx which Germany may (or may not) return to Turkey after a 100 year sojourn. Here's some history:

Via Hurriyet Daily News: The 3,300-year-old sphinx was part of a gate to the Hittite capital Hattuşa in modern-day Anatolia. It was excavated in 1907 and sent to Berlin for restoration and study about 10 years later, according to the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation. Turkey has been urging Germany to return it since 1938, the foundation said in a statement.

Part of a pair, the Hittite Sphinx was simply not returned because of the questionable effect transport might have had on the deteriorating statue. It's sister, in better condition, was sent back to Turkey in 1924, alone, and is part of Istanbul's Ancient Orient Museum. Now a reunion is hopeful, but repatriation of historical objects is a hot topic in the east.

(Ever heard of Zahi Hawass? He keeps Egypt's artifacts under lock and key, and heads task force to find miscreant mummies. (Rameses I?) There are ramifications for Egypt, Turkey, Greece, and any other country that claims an artifact's origin.)

Germany wants to be clear that this case creates no precedent. And while I do feel certain iconic things belong in their home countries, (It's disconcerting to go all the way to Ephesus and not pay homage to the real Artemis.) there is something to be said for spreading the history around. After all, accessibility is a very effective tool to encourage preservation funding, and there's no better teaching technique than a visit to the real thing.

And now I'm spinning a tale of two sisters...
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Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Cilician Pirates

Alanya in Turkey on the Kitab-ı Bahriye (Book ...Image via Wikipedia
This here is a partial map of the coast near Alanya, drawn by Ottoman cartographer, Piri Reis, sometime between 1465 and 1555. As you can see, besides the two castles at the points, there is little in between. It's still pretty much the same today, and if we go back to the first century BC, the only major difference is that the castles were smaller. An extremely craggy coastline is apparently deterent to urban sprawl. (Yay for that!) 

The Taurus mountains (pictured on the right edge) cut the area off from Anatolia on the one side and come sprawling down to the sea on the other. Spectacular coves and views result, but as I learned, the zigzag on the map means the distance from A to B is increased exponentially.

(Please don't ask me about the hours I spent, white-knuckled, on a two lane road which barely hugged the mountain, watching the locals zip past at light speed before they whipped around the hairpin turns in a scene reminscent of a mad rally car race. Just don't.)

Anyway, back to the purpose of the post - Roman era PIRATES!

Take a look at Cilicia Trachea (rocky Cilicia) in the photo on the left. Gorgeous, isn't it? I'm not the only one who saw possibilities here.

Coves for hideouts + plentiful supplies for ship building = heaven for rogue Seleucid, Diodotus Tryphon, and lots of his pals. (Strabo called him the first Cilician pirate.)

Back to the map...
  1. Point A :Coracesium (modern Alanya), the big castle and the impenetrable main fortress of the pirates. (Separate post, I promise.)
  2. Smooth curve (which we know is actually quite jagged. Piri Reis probably didn't want to get snagged by the rocks, hence no detail.) 
  3. Point B:Mamure castle, (the whimpy one at the bottom), built by the Romans to fight them.
No wonder the Romans weren't very successful, but then their heart wasn't in it either. Pirates were useful to the Roman slave trade, even if they did screw up the grain markets with their continuous pilfering. Cilician pirates especially were living the high life. They mocked Rome, offering protection and seeking welcome in every port of call as they inched toward the Apennine peninsula.
This via wikipedia: Plutarch recounts a particular custom of the Cilician pirates. When a prisoner of theirs called out he was Roman, the pirates would pretend to be scared and beg for mercy. If the prisoner took the pirate's mockery in earnest, they would dress him in Greek athletic shoes and a toga, that they might not repeat the mistake. After they were satisfied mocking him, they would lower a ladder into the sea, and, wishing him a fortuitous journey, invite him to step off. If the man wouldn't go of his own accord, they would push him overboard.

However, some (stupid) pirates got a little ambitious when they kidnapped Julius Caesar - twice.
The first time the pirates ransomed him for 500 kilos of silver, the second time they got a thousand. Julius Caeser didn't like the pattern he was seeing. He hopped on a war ship, defeated the responsible parties and crucified them. (We're probably being literal with that term.) Eventually, the Cilician menace pissed off enough Romans to warrant a true fight. The pirates tried not to engage, but they were disbanded and shipped off to farm the lands of inner Anatolia, as far from their beloved sea as possible. 

So...why am I interested in this right now? Alanya/Mamure/and the Cilician coast, are my next story stop. Guess who I need to work in? The character is already coming together in my head - if I just give him a name, I'm sure he'll show himself. I think I'm really going to like him. :)

Any ideas on a good modern name for Tryphon?
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Monday, March 14, 2011

Paring it Down

Last Monday I wrote about olives (because I just couldn't think of anything exciting) and you loved me anyway. Thanks!

Anyhow, Jacqueline Howett shared her experience with olives: On our vactions from England to Greece to visit my Yaya who lived in a olive grove, we got stuck with the chore of slitting each olive with a knife for selling to market.

That comment got me nostalgic for the days I spent with the other women of my husband's Turkish family, coring, chopping, and preparing all sorts of veggies for the dishes we created. We sat around the table in the kitchen or out on the balcony, drank lots of tea, and read many fortunes. Don't get me wrong, I love climbing ruins and all that...but this one rite of passage into the lives of my in-laws was priceless.

Not only did I learn to make some yummy things, I also got an earful of stories. (And sagas, but we'll pass on those for today.) Little tips, like rubbing the tomato with the flat side of the knife before peeling to release the skin. (I blanche mine now. Tomatoes here aren't the same.) Or, my favorite: Put your thumb at the base of the blade, so the knife doesn't come out the other side of the (baseball-sized) eggplant. And the one I won't ever forget - Just because the chile seeds aren't burning you right now, doesn't mean they won't. (Spent several hours dipping my digits in ice water for not listening to that!)

Some days, ana anne (grandmother) would open out the dough for manti (imagine tortellini). Believe me, stuffing one million teeny strips of dough with meat is more fun when you have help.Then there were the dilemmas: aunt x says to use paprika, mother-in-law says cumin is better. I don't like cumin. Use paprika. Pay dearly. Yes, I laugh about it today, but it wasn't so funny then.

Just like with fishing, carefully paring the tops off okra the size of my thumbnail, without breaking into the seeds, taught me something. If you want to absorb another culture, it's important to slow down and smell the spices.
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Friday, March 11, 2011

Mamure Castle

Can you believe I missed going inside this castle? Yes - stupid me - I was too tired that day. I had the most amazing chicken kebab at a restaurant down the beach from it, though...with a breathtaking view. Luckily, Anamur it isn't far from Mersin, so I can get back there the next time I go to Turkey.

Here's the 101 on Mamure Castle according to wikipedia:

The castle was built on the foundation of an ancient castle built by the Roman Empire in the forth century, undoubtedly against pirates. 

-blah de blah de blah - lots of guys fought over it, it changed hands several times - fast forward :

In 1475, the castle was annexed by the Ottoman Empire. During Ottoman reign, the castle was repaired in the 15th, 16th and 18th centuries and a part of the castle was used as a cervansarai.

Love the part about the pirates... (I keep looking for a way to use that! I promise I'll get you some more posts on them soon.) ...and Mamure must have been the most awesome caravanserai stop. Can you imagine stopping there for the night to rest your tired, laden *erm*camel? (Monty Python fan here.) OK, so maybe it was a little smelly, but there's a killer view. (mamure = prosperous, btw.)

So why is Mamure castle special?

Let's break it down. I always write about the stories behind a castle, but in this case I need to point out the parts. Mamure is known for it's spectacular crenellation.

Take it away wiktionary:


1. A pattern along the top of a parapet (fortified wall), most often in the form of multiple, regular, rectangular spaces in the top of the wall, through which arrows or other weaponry may be shot, especially as used in medieval European architecture.
2. The act of crenellating; adding a top row that looks like the top of a medieval castle.

It's nice to find a ruin that isn't so...well...ruined...isn't it?

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Wednesday, March 9, 2011



I shy away from posts about craft because, let's face it, I'm the noob around here...but I wanted to share something I learned from a writing power greater than myself (Tracy Marchini). This one trick she suggested waaay back in my first draft is the single most important thing I learned.

Telescope: Slide one element into another and strengthen the story.

  • Telescope scenes to keep pacing strong.
  • Telescope characters to create complexity.
  • Telescope plot to keep tangents at bay.
  • Telescope sentiments to increase tension.
I don't know if telescoping is an official writerly term or anything, but I like it. My secondary character/trickster, Seyhan, was three separate guys at one point. (Talk about a personality disorder, lol!)

Matryoshka doll from UkraineImage by yasmapaz & ace_heart via Flickr
At first I couldn't see how to do it, but when I took away individual traits that didn't mesh, it worked out. Very well. So well that I couldn't stop myself from telescoping whenever I found a dry spot in the pacing, a darling floating in a paragraph on its own, a plot twist that needed more twisting... All those things didn't just jumble together either. They became clearer, as if I pulled them in for a closer look. I liken the theory to the Matruska doll of parallel universes. (Today's tie-in. :D) Multiple realities are layered into one whole which is greater than the sum of the parts. (Either that, or I should get out and smell the whatever-is-blooming-right-now. I've been in this chair too long. Do these words look like they're snaking around the page to you?)

Of course, I probably wouldn't have been able to telescope anything if I hadn't first poured it all out onto the page in the unadulterated first draft. I was hoping to avoid this step in my second ms, but now I realize a vital part of my writing process is the exploration of the story in long-hand.

Does anyone have tips on telescoping more efficiently?

Monday, March 7, 2011

Olives - Oil Cured vs Brined

Yesil zeytin 1Image via Wikipedia
Growing up, I hated olives. With a passion. The only olive I liked was my Great Aunt Olive. (She brought me cool Beatrix Potter stuff from England. I also would have appreciated Olive, The Other Reindeer, but she wasn't around.)

The only olives my New England Yankee/Polish Immigrant family knew were the canned black variety that resembled (and tasted like) rubber washers.... or the equally offensive green kind stuffed with red pieces of something-or-other. Every holiday, I passed the obligatory olive/gherkin dish around and prayed the smell wouldn't make me hurl.

Enter my Turkish mother-in-law.

Kahvalti (Turkish breakfast) was her thing. She made homemade cheese (don't even ask how that smelled), blended her own teas, and insisted I try the olives. Wrinkly, shiny, weird-as-hell looking salt cured olives. With pits even! Of course, my DH just laughed at me when I objected.

Fast forward many years and I've made my peace with olives. Seems not all of them taste like rubber. :) In fact, sometimes you'll see me standing at the chichi olive bar choosing between a dozen varieties.

Here are some pointers I used to get myself past the can/jar.
  • I stay away from the bitter green varieties because the curing process usually involves lye. They say it all gets rinsed away, but I like to play it safe. (Yes, lye from the cleaning aisle. Yuck! And yet, before I knew this, I did eat green olives...)
  • Black, oil-cured olives are salty and wrinkly. They have the strongest flavor (which I actually like these days) and don't keep very long. I only buy small batches. There's nothing I hate more than a mushy olive. *shivers*
  • Brined olives are cured in salty water for a few weeks. A good example is a Kalamata. These generally have the most fruit on the pit, no matter what size you choose. They're the most versatile.
  • Marinated - in vinegar and olive oil, sometimes with garlic and herbs. These can get too funky for me, but sometimes I'll find a nice one. I like when they toss in some big capers. Those are yummy.
An olive bar usually features olives from various locations and varieties (ie France for the petite picholine, Greece for kalamata, etc.), and producers who like to have fun with the marinades. A good deli will let you try before you buy.

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Friday, March 4, 2011

Cercis Siliquastrum aka Erguvan, or in other words...Redbud Tree

The other day, Anonymous stopped by and left a comment on my post about Boğaziçi University. (For newcomers, BU is the setting for my novel.) Anonymous pined for the lovely campus of his/her alma mater and reminded me of how beautiful the erguvan trees are in the spring. Of course, I'm a sucker for flowering anything, and Istanbul in bloom is just breathtaking. How could I not mention it in my writing someplace? (It's in chapter two of Burnt Amber, btw.)

So what is an erguvan tree? Cercis siliquastrum, aka the redbud tree. The Bosphorus strait is dotted with redbuds for a few weeks in late April/early May. Some areas, Bebek included, have pockets of the trees like the one in the picture. It's no wonder that Roxelana's favorite color was erguvan mauve. There was nothing the Ottomans didn't have in that color.

Here in the Carolinas, we have its cousin, native cercis canadensis, blanketing our hillsides. Dainty blooms, ornamental seed pods and pretty heart shaped leaves make an attractive tree, so redbuds are popular in gardens of the southeast and all the way up into southern New England. When my grandmother passed away I planted a dwarf weeping variety called "Covey" at my old house in New Haven. I also have several of the burgundy leaved "Forest Pansy" variety in my new backyard. Currently, I'm coveting a new variety borne of "Forest Pansy" and "Covey", "Ruby Falls", which both weeps AND has beautiful burgundy foliage. I just need to find that sweet spot for it.

Fun note:

Green twigs have been used in southern Appalachia to season venison for years, so the tree is also known as spicewood up in the mountains. Native Americans ate the buds raw or boiled and roasted the seeds. I haven't tried any of these recipes, but some buds might look pretty on top of a salad...
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Wednesday, March 2, 2011


via Wikipedia
I'm busy with the Crusader Challenge and my google reader is about to explode. I need to find a way to organize all the new blogs I'm following. (Any tips appreciated!)

Meanwhile, Blogger is making me insane with all its convoluted words. I feel like I'm on a scavenger hunt for rss feeds and follower buttons. So since I've been meaning to write about labyrinths, today felt appropriate. :)

The maze is a traditional symbol for finding the divine or the self. We authors take characters through a labyrinth each time we give them a goal to accomplish or a MacGuffin (thanks, Matt :D) to locate. 

Underground cities, castle dungeons, serpentine streets, yellow brick roads...all of them work well and lots of writers (including me) use them at particularly difficult moments in a character arc. Movie directors like them too because true labyrinths are visually striking. My favorite is aptly titled Labyrinth, with David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly. I just thought I'd share the particularly poignant lyrics of the movie song, Within You. It illustrates both the internal and external labyrinths of the story.

How you turn my world

You precious thing.
You starve and near exhaust me.

Everything I've done,
I've done for you.

I move the stars for no one.

You've run so long.
You've run so far.

Your eyes can be so cruel,
Just as I can be so cruel,

Oh I do believe in you.
Yes I do.

Live without your sunlight.
Love without your heartbeat.

I... I...
Can't.. live.. within.. you...

I can't live within you

I...I..Can't live within you

And here's the visual, Escheresque stairs and all...

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