Dante's Inferno: Canto II.

Dante's Divine Comedy: The Inferno, Canto II

Embrowned: (verb) darken; to cause to turn brown.
Silvius, the parent: Greek story from the poet Virgil, where Brutus killed his father with an arrow, and I guess Silvius, namely Brutus's father., descended into the Inferno.

This is a silly little story, but when opportunity knocks, I must answer the door, no matter the exterior appearance, for what does wise or weird truly look like anyway? In my experience, both have many faces, and I must proceed to prod the interior to find what I see, whether connections to wisdom or weirdness. Heck, David danced half-naked before the Lord (and many on-looking women) and Jesus said that he would use foolery of the world to exhibit the wisdom of his kingship. These stories comfort me whenever I think that what I have to say will give me "the look" of misunderstanding or disconnection-- my nightmare. With that, I will proceed with my silly little story.

I have always been obsessed with counting. I still cannot recollect when I grew this deep fancy of counting and quantifying, yet still the habit spreads to almost every area of my life. In elementary school, I would count the little stems that made up the time on my digital clock, and memorize which numbers has the most stems, and which times had the most stems total. I lost a lot of sleep growing up, I think. Especially, when I realized at 1:11am that I won my own competition at finding "the time with the smallest number of digital stems." It was mesmerizing, and even the heavy sands of sleep would not prevent nor disrupt my counting ventures. I also have a system of counting letters in a word, sections on a waterbottle, and anything other object made up of quantifiable parts.
Perhaps this was my small mind's way of figuring out the world, spreading those neural connections and searching to understand how everything works and is put together.

This habit came to use when my parents were concerned that my Dad might lose his eyesight. Dad wanted to get up and down the stairs, so he memorized the number of stair steps and climbed up and down a few times. This fascinated my 8-year-old imagination, since I had never thought about the inability to see as a possibility. So, as monkey sees, monkey does, I began memorizing the stairs and going up and down on them with my eyes closed. I succeeded with flying colors, and to this day I memorize the number of stairs in a given staircase, whether in my home or in another's.

Today, I have a staircase in my apartment, and have always counted the stairs, and have closed my eyes while counting, but have never until today (Sept. 8, 2012) kept my eyes open and up toward my destination at the top of the stairs with such fixed determination and faith that I would not fall up the stairs. It happens, often. Merely quantifying how many stairs I climb will not provide the peace needed to proceed up the stairs without fear of stumbling, because my mind can make mistakes and play tricks on me. I might have counted 14 stairs but it will not get me anywhere until I take the next metaphorical step to merely going up the stairs in faith that I need not worry about the quantity or any other frivolous detail. Although it is good finite knowledge to use as a vessel for faith, my reliance should be singularly on just going up the stairs, promptly and without so much quantifying.

Dante's Canto II mostly captures what Jesus might say in a parable, that a man "who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is not fit for the Kingdom of God," (Luke9:62). Dante the pilgrim was once so prompt in his following the revived spirit of his favorite Roman poet, Virgil; however, the closer they come to the mouth of Hell, the metaphorical heat of confronting many fears and woes brings him to doubt his previous decision.  He began to count the number of people who had once entered the pits of Hell, and quantified their worth by his limited perspective of worldly standards such as royalty, intellect, and the exterior holiness of each character named. He belittles his worth by discounting his previous faith in following the poet, Virgil out of the slums of worldly living and onto the right path to Heaven. He asks so many questions, which answers alone will not grant him peace. But Virgil, a rightful companion, strengthens his faith by the love of Dante's passed away love, Beatrice, who loves him so much that she mourns his despair as if it were her own. She, a high spirit named Lucia, and a mystery lady in heaven (Virgin Mary?) all mourn for Dante and wish for his homecoming to them, the rightful path to Heaven. The love of Beatrice for Dante strengthens his will to carry on without questions and self-destructing belittlement. He stops looking back and follows Virgil, moving forward toward the mouth of Hell.

Both of these stories require a kind of gaze that looks forward and up, not backward or downwards. As I needed to open my eyes and look upward to the top of the staircase without relying on my own counting to save me from stumbling, since I often make mistakes, so Dante needed to look up to the love of Beatrice, Lucia, and this mystery woman and know that he travels the right path to unity with "thou Leader, and thou Lord, and Master thou."

Also, I did not know the word "intrepid" until now.
Intrepid: (noun) characterized by resolute fearlessness.

Love it. He is feeling and following the love. Good boy. Keep going!