Out of Proportion

Can anyone else see the parallels between Jesus of Nazareth and Barack Obama? Like Jesus, the world expects Obama to be its saviour. In the short span of eight years (at the very most), we want him to fix the economic crisis, bring world peace, and stop global warming. His election has been seen by everyone as a ray of hope, just as Jesus’ birth was a ray of hope to those oppressed by the Roman Empire. However, it’s all been blown out of proportion. Obama is one man, and no matter how good a man he is, it’ll take more than just him to fix all the problems in the world. Then there’s the fact that most of these problems have culminated for years, and sometimes even centuries (in the case of the complete lack of peace).  Heaping all hopes on one man’s shoulders is unfair on him, and such high expectations can only lead to disappointment. Barack Obama is the first African American US president, not the Messiah.

In the eyes of the Jews, Jesus failed them because he did not free Israel from the reins of Roman rule, and so, they crucified Him. Let’s hope we’re smarter and more understsanding than we were two thousand years ago when this man, on whom we have placed all our hopes, fails to do the impossible.

Angel

Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom of Heaven. It belongs to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan.

Heaven and Earth; the only difference is the relations between one person and another. In Heaven, no hate exists. It is foreign. I do not claim to know everything that there is to know about Heaven, nor do I know everything worth knowing about Earth. I just know more than most of you.

 

I have existed in both realms. I have seen the peace of Heaven and the bloodshed on Earth. I have seen men create paradise on Earth, and I have seen other men turn that paradise into Hell. Time passes, but human nature does not change.

 

I was sent down from Heaven with a mission.

 

No, I am not the Messiah, nor have I ever claimed to be.

 

As I have said, I was sent down to do God’s work, and my task was to give guidance to one who bore the mark of God; the problem was that he did not know it.

 

Men are strange creatures. The Truth is right before their eyes, in all its different incarnations, but most of the time, they are oblivious to it. They seem to like to convolute the simplest of things, warping God’s will with man-made rules and dogmas. There are those who believe they are doing God’s work by sticking strictly to their dogmas, when in actual fact, they go against His decrees when they discriminate against those who do not believe in their rules. They claim to love God and obey His commands when they preach hatred against their fellow men. Mankind has a way of distinguishing between one another using the smallest of differences, even though they have more similarities. They seek to exaggerate those differences. Perhaps it is in their nature to want to find others who are exactly the same. I do not completely understand it, and I do not think that I ever will. It is a funny business. Amongst them, it is easy to hide, for they cannot see anything that they do not believe, and no one believes that angels walk with men.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (part 16)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom of Heaven or anything else that you might recognize here. It belongs to Sir Ridley Scott, William Monahan, and history.

 

Chapter 16: Coup d’état

Guy knew that Raymond was not listening to him as he stated the reasons why he had decided to go to war — the main reason being that he was king and if he wanted to start a war then he would do so— and he did not care one little bit. Raymond of Tiberias was the past; Jerusalem had no use for an old cowardly Marshal who would rather make peace with God’s enemies than do his duty and eradicate them from the face of the earth. He had control of the army now, and he was going to use it as he pleased.

“There are some of you who might not agree with our succession,” he said, looking at each and every one of the gathered nobles. No one said anything. They all knew what had happened to Guy’s last opponent, and no one relished being left to die alone in the desert and becoming food for carrion birds. “But it is war!” continued Guy, his confidence swelling. This was what he had come to the Holy Land to do. “And I am…” Then his eye strayed in the direction of the desert, and his confidence evaporated like a puddle in the scorching eastern sun. “…the king,” he finished, and he knew he sounded pathetic, but no one was paying him much attention.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (part 14)

Disclaimer: I own neither the plot nor the characters of Kingdom of Heaven. They belong to Sir Ridley Scott, William Monahan, and history.

 

Chapter 14: Weeping Angels

 

Why? That was the question that Sibylla kept asking, even as she played her part in her bleak grey world of politics and intrigue. In her eyes, the colour and vibrancy of Jerusalem had been stripped away, leaving only bare hard rock. She would give up her power, her city, just to save her son. The thought of watching him become a masked ghost as her brother had done was unbearable.

 

The words on the piece of paper before her made no sense, even though she was the one writing them. Her quill moved slowly, sometimes pausing above the paper with a droplet of ink hanging from the tip.

 

It pained Raymond to see Sibylla like this. This was but a shadow of what she had been. This disease was not only slowly taking away the young king’s life, but it was also leeching the life from his mother. He watched her write, knowing that she had to acknowledge the truth soon. A king’s mother could not afford to live in a dream. And in Jerusalem, the gossips had been hard at work. He did not doubt the physician, but someone else must have seen the young king’s reaction to pain; someone like Heraclius. Something had to be done, or else the storm would be enough to raze Jerusalem to the ground.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (part 13)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. The characters and the plot of Kingdom of Heaven belong to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan, and History.

 

Chapter 13: Why?

 

Rumbling drunken snores penetrated the darkness. Sibylla lay wide awake, staring at the canopy above her. The sweaty sheets were twisted around her body, hiding her shame and nakedness. Beside her, Guy snorted and then rolled over so that his back was turned to her. That was better, but only just. Her body still hurt from his brutish touches, and she knew she would find bruises blossoming on her pale skin the next morning. It hadn’t been like this with Balian.

 

A lump grew in her throat as she remembered the tender touches of her gentle knight. Every caress had spoken of love. She supposed that she would never feel those caresses again. He had rejected her, and hurt her pride in every way possible. She had expected him to return to his little fief at Ibelin and stay there, becoming just another baron who regarded her with cold distant courtesy. Why he was still in Jerusalem was a mystery, for he never showed his face at court, probably because he was loathe to see her. Perhaps he was still here because he had business to settle before he could go back to Ibelin? That was the only rational explanation. However, in her heart, there was a little voice whispering to her, telling her that he was here because even though he did not want to see her, he was even more reluctant to leave her.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (part 12)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the storyline. This is just my interpretation of Sir Ridley Scott’s film, Kingdom of Heaven.

 

Chapter 12: Price of Power

Sibylla’s mind was reeling with all the changes. There was so much she had to do, but she was not ready to deal with the affairs of state yet. First, there was her brother’s funeral. Simply thinking about Baldwin’s death made her want to weep again, but she knew she couldn’t. She was the greatest authority in the kingdom now, as the mother of the uncrowned king, and she had to be strong; stronger than the foundations of Jerusalem itself.

 

Outside her window, the sky blue standards of the kingdom fluttered against a pale grey sky. The sun, usually blazing brightly down on the Holy Land, was nowhere to be seen. The princess could not help but feel as if God had turned away from her and the kingdom.

 

‘You mustn’t think like that,’ she told herself. There was no time for morbid thoughts. She had to prepare for her brother’s funeral and for her son’s coronation.

 

“Youmna!’ she called. The maid came in and curtseyed.

 

“Milady?” she said.

 

“Send for the Lord Marshal,” said the princess. “I must consult him about matters concerning the coronation.”

 

“As you wish, milady,” said Youmna. As she dipped another curtsey, she glanced up at Sibylla. The maid had never seen her so haggard, as if she had not slept well for many nights. Underneath the face powder, her complexion was pale and she seemed almost translucent, as if she was fading away from exhaustion. The maid opened her mouth, and then hesitated. Sibylla was a princess, and she was only a handmaiden. What right did a handmaiden have to tell a princess what to do? However, Youmna knew that it was her duty to serve her mistress’ best interests. “Milady, perhaps you should rest for a while,” she ventured.

 

Sibylla sighed. “I cannot rest, Youmna,” she said. “There is too much to do.”

 

“You cannot work if you are half-alive, milady,” said the maid, more firmly this time. At least Sibylla had not snapped at her; that was a good sign.

 

“Very well. Send of the Lord Marshal. I shall rest after I have seen him.”

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 11)

Disclaimer: All the characters and events of Kingdom of Heaven belong to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan, and, of course, History. I’m just borrowing them and writing my own interpretation.

 

The walls and hangings muffled the sounds from outside. Many candles burned, but they did nothing to dispel the shadow which was falling over the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. It took a while for Sibylla’s vision to adjust to the darkness of the king’s chamber. It had been so long since she had set foot in here. The scent of incense could not conceal the underlying smell of decay which permeated the room.

 

She approached the bed where her brother lay; a pitiable and wasted figure. One bandaged hand rested on his chest. The other arm was outstretched; it was in the same position which the physician had left it. The silver mask was still in place, however. It was the same cold emotionless face which he showed the world; the face which was supposed to hide weakness.

 

With a shaking hand, the princess reached out and rested it on her brother’s bandaged one, unsure of whether he would feel it or not. Baldwin stirred, and with what seemed like a great effort, opened his eyes. “Hello,” he said. His voice was breathy and weak, but Sibylla’s heart lurched at the sound of that benevolent tone. It was the same one which he had used with her all those years ago, before he had put on the silver mask.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 9)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Kingdom of Heaven belongs to Sir Ridley Scott and William Monahan, and History.

 

Chapter 9: A Kingdom of Conscience

 

Doors were meant for protection; those leading to Sibylla’s quarters were made to keep out any unwelcome presence. Inside was her refuge; a place of peace and safety in the middle of Jerusalem’s dark undercurrents and courtly intrigues. The colours and hangings had all been chosen for the tranquillity they represented. The inner chambers were sheltered from the heat, but with the coming of evening, they would be graced for a short while, with the dying golden light of the sun as it set over the heart of Christendom.

 

The princess loved the security she felt when she was in her sanctuary; it was like being in the warm loving embrace of her old nurse, who had long since passed away. When she returned this afternoon, she expected to find her son there, playing or completing the tasks set by his tutor. What she saw gave her a most unpleasant shock. Guy had gone too far; he had invaded her haven and worse yet, he was with her son, telling her boy how he ought to arrange his pewter figures. The man had his back to her, but she could hear him quite clearly. “Always surround your knights with foot-soldiers,” he told the boy.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 8)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. It all belongs to Sir Ridley Scott, William Monahan, and History.

 

Chapter 8: To Offer the World

 

The city was cool and quiet, its inhabitants still slumbering. Balian walked with Sibylla down to the courtyard, where her servants were waiting with the horses. No one spoke. It was their master’s secret, and they had no desire for anyone in the court to find out. Godfrey had entrusted Balian to them, and they would keep him safe. It was all they could do to pay their old master back for his kindness.

 

“God keep you, my lord,” said Sibylla.

 

“God does not know me,” replied Balian. There was a gentle smile on his lips. He stood beside her horse and cupped his hands, allowing her to place her foot on them to boost herself up into the saddle. She longed to cup his face, to kiss him there and then in the courtyard, but she could not. That would almost be signing his death warrant.

 

***

 

Raymond was deep in thought, as always. Sibylla was a hard woman to predict. Even he, who had watched her grow up, still did not truly understand her. At the moment, she seemed to speak about Balian all the time, praising his virtues, as if no one else knew about them. In fact, it seemed as if she was in love with him. He knew she had visited his house; that was no secret. However, what did she really want?

 

The Marshal paced outside the king’s chamber. He could hear urgent murmurs, but he could not make out the words. It seemed as if Bishop Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, was in there with the ailing sovereign. What was that old fox trying to do? The murmuring stopped. The king had won the argument, whatever it had been about. Moments later, the patriarch emerged. He did not even deign to glance at Raymond. Perhaps he had not even seen the count; surely his mind was on more serious matters.

With You, I’ll be Only Sibylla (Part 7)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. Kingdom of Heaven belongs to Sir Ridley Scott, William Monahan, and history.

 

Warning: Implications of adult material

 

Chapter 7: A Princess’ Decision

The sight of Jerusalem greeted her; the open gates were like the jaws of an ancient monstrosity. She had no desire to go in, to be embroiled in that seething cauldron of politics again, but what choice did she have. Her blood had doomed her from her birth. She was a princess. She was a political pawn. Sibylla glanced at the still form of her brother on his litter. He had always been her shield, trying to protect her from all the dangerous intricacies of court life, but now he was dying. To whom would he pass this mantle of protector? In her mind, there was only one candidate. She risked looking backwards, past Guy, and at the unimposing figure of Balian. He gave her a small smile and then resumed his conversation with Tiberias.

 

His presence made Sibylla feel a bit safer in her own city. If she could have her way, then he would be her Champion. The noises and smells of Jerusalem washed over her, bringing her back to reality. The lords and knights began to disperse to go to their houses in the city. Balian and his men broke off relatively early to ride back to Balian’s house. The servants no doubt would be unprepared for their master’s arrival.

 

The palace was dark, even though the servants had lit all the torches. The king was quickly carried to his own chambers. The Saracen physicians, sent by Saladin himself, followed, along with Bishop Heraclius, the patriarch of Jerusalem. Sibylla was left alone to find her own way back to her apartments, not that she actually needed an escort. Guy brushed past her and disappeared into the dimness of the corridors. They had not spoken during the entire journey back to Jerusalem. She cared not. There was nothing to say. He had his way of life; she had hers.

A Random Post

Well, it’s the last day of lectures and I have a test this afternoon. I truly don’t have anything inspiring to write; I just want to type something, and see words appearing on a screen. Weird, huh? Maybe that’s part of being a writer. I just love the look of words as they appear on the screen. It gives me a sense of achievement, and typing has a music and rhythm all of its own. Mind you, handwriting is cool as well because I feel like I’m connecting with some higher being, even if it’s just my brain. (Not that my brain is a higher being or anything. It hardly ever functions on a continual basis.) And handwriting is so old-fashioned. I just love it. People have been doing it for years.

It’s just like when I go to mass, I don’t think about the prayers or the liturgy or that sort of thing. I think about the fact that this ritual has occurred Sunday after Sunday for about two thousand years, and I’m doing more or less the same thing as what my favourite historical figure, Balian of Ibelin, did back in 1187 when he took time off his mission to take part in mass because it was the feast day of a saint or something. It’s probably partly his fault that the Battle of Hattin happened, because if he hadn’t been late, he might have been able to stop Gerard de Ridefort’s suicidal attack on the much larger Muslim delegation, but it’s still exciting to feel this link to one of the people which I admire very much. Anyway, it really seems like it’s God’s will that Balian survived but the Kingdom of Jerusalem didn’t.

I go from having nothing to write to writing about writing and then writing about religion, and then history. The mind is a wondrous thing (now I shall change topics suddenly again and talk about psychology. Am I even able to stay on topic?). It moves so quickly, and you don’t really notice the changes until you actually look back and then think ‘where did that come from?’. I guess it really contributes to the randomness of humans. We think about such a lot, and we don’t do half of what we think, mostly. Personally, I’m just not motivated. I mean, I promise myself I will be a good student and study, and then I end up getting addicted to the computer and totally neglecting the academic life until a week or two before exams. That’s fate, or just an odd coincidence.

So to close off today’s totally random post, I’ll just quote Ned Kelly, my favourite outlaw. “Such is life.” (Not sure where that came from or why it’s relevant but there you go. It’s a random post.)

The Power of Passion

It’s the end of the semester. I never realized how much I enjoyed studying history until I started revising today. Most of that stuff was still in my head, just buried under a bunch of other stuff. It was so easy to bring up with a few keywords, unlike my science subjects. Revising for those is like learning it from scratch. Mainly I put it down to the enthusiasm of lecturers, or lack thereof. For history, you could feel how much the lecturers loved what they were talking about. They might be old-fashioned, but fashion cannot change the fact that they genuinely liked what they did. For me, that was the most important thing. I’m a creature of emotion and I associate memories with emotions. Simply the word Crusade or Islam or something like that makes me excited and interested, because I’ve had good experiences while learning about those things, and I remember them. On the other hand, I’ve fallen asleep in my communication disorders class despite the large cup of coffee I’d consumed just before to prevent that very thing from happening. If one can be pumped full of caffeine and still fall asleep, then there must be something seriously wrong with that class.

With You, I’ll Be Only Sibylla (Part 6)

Disclaimer: Kingdom of Heaven belongs to Ridley Scott, William Monahan and History. I don’t own any of it.

 

Chapter 6: The Key to Her Heart

Sibylla and Balian gazed at each other. Neither of them were willing to part, but they knew that they must. They came from completely different worlds. It was at that moment, when Sibylla felt that she was losing her fight with her emotions, that one of Balian’s men at arms gave a shout. “Somebody’s been shot!” he cried. Balian and Sibylla looked up. Riding up to Ibelin on a bloodstained grey horse was a man, dressed in the livery of the Royal court. He was draped over the horse, barely conscious.

 

Almaric rushed over to catch the frightened animal while Rollo, the Norman mercenary, relieved the man of his message. “My lord,” he said after reading it. “The king is marching on Kerak.”

 

“Kerak?” said Balian. Why would the king be marching on Kerak. He snatched the missive from Rollo. The baron immediately recognized Tiberias’ writing, and he had orders for Balian. “Protect the villagers,” the king had commanded. Balian glanced at Sibylla and then back down at the king’s missive. He had a duty to his princess, but also to the people of the kingdom. To protect one was to abandon another. He could not let Sibylla return to Jerusalem alone, not while there were bandits about. She was a princess; a vulnerable prize. Then again, those villagers outside Kerak were just as vulnerable and defenseless, if not more so. He was torn.