The official forging of Frodo Baggins’ new identity as Ringbearer is not designed to glorify any kind of heroism. On the contrary, the great necessity for the Fellowship to accompany Frodo during the earlier part of the Ring Quest signifies that Frodo is an “anti-hero”. Frodo’s need for an accompanying Fellowship demonstrates that he is weak, timid, vulnerable, and infantile in the ways of the world, and naturally requires a Fellowship to protect him. As Frodo is protected by these mighty fellows of great status and power, and as they display their martial brilliance and heroic valour in the exertion of such protection, Frodo is, in a sense, belittled, despite his most important position in the Fellowship. Through this belittlement, Frodo Baggins comes to represent an “anti-ego”, which is more in harmony with the Eastern devaluation of the ego.

According to Joseph Campbell, the doctrine of individualism so common in modern Western society has no real equivalent in the East. “There the ideal…is the quenching, not development, of ego.” (Campbell, 1962:22) Because of this discouragement from clinging to the restrictions of ego, the Eastern psyche, to a large extent, remains “wide open to the seizures of completely uncritical mythic identifications.” (Campbell, 1962:23) The devaluation of the ego is one of the principles that perfectly validates reading LotR from Eastern perspectives. At least from a Zen perspective, the devaluation and ritual cleansing of the ego, featured prominently in Frodo’s journey to Rivendell, eventually lead to a state of greater realization equivalent to an experience of Zen enlightenment, referred to as satori.

It can be interpreted that the experience of satori is brought about by a transcendence of personality, status, conditioning from external circumstances, and even intellect. Only through such a transcendence does Frodo’s being merge with a superior form of collective intelligence that has given rise to and nurtured the existence of the world of the Elves. This process of merging between Frodo and the superior collective intelligence, however abstract that may sound, occurs towards the end of the crossing to Rivendell. As will be argued in the latter part of this chapter, the mystical, dream-like quality of the cinematic presentation of this phenomenon provides substantial allusions to the Zen experience of satori:

Zen writings commonly refer to satori as realization of the “original mind” as it is in itself, the universal ground of consciousness, concealed beneath the temporal conditioning that forces people to experience life through outlooks arbitrarily limited by their cultural, social, and personal histories. (Clearly, 2001, vol.1:3)

One of the reasons for the classic appropriateness of using the cinematic portrayal of Frodo Baggins’ journey to Rivendell as a case study in this chapter is that this episode in the film signifies Frodo’s transcendence of his previous cultural conditioning and personal history. This transcendence not only directly parallels the aim of Zen and the nature of Zen enlightenment, as described above. More importantly, Frodo’s transcendence of his previous Hobbit conditioning is an appropriate case study for this chapter, as it presents Zen as a universal ideal, transcending the limitations of cultural, social, and personal divergences.

Zen after all, seeks to transcend separateness and dualism, and to be liberated from such constructed patterns of thought and action. In the same spirit of transcendence and liberation, Frodo’s entry into an Elven haven signifies an inter-dimensional fusion that transcends the rift that could be potentially generated by the aloofness of the Elves and the long-standing suspicion that Hobbits hold towards the world outside their native Shire. In establishing the concept of Zen liberation as the principal theme running through Frodo’s journey to Rivendell, I will initially apply the Zen notion of emptiness in my discussion of the earlier episode of Frodo’s crossing. I will then apply the Zen notion of enlightenment, referred to as satori, in my discussion of the completion of Frodo’s crossing, as well as his re-awakening in the Elven haven of Rivendell.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Campbell, Joseph (1962), The Masks of God: Oriental Mythology, The Viking Press, New York

Clearly, Thomas (2001), Classics of Buddhism and Zen: The Collected Translations of Thomas Clearly vols 1-4, Shambhala, Boston and London

Well, there are many of them, aren’t there?  First the missing Gandalf turns up abruptly by Frodo’s sick bed; then we meet Elrond and Arwen; then Gloin; then Bilbo; then Strider under a new name.  It is a chapter of discovering old friends and discovering new things about old friends.  It is a chapter that gives one the impression that something is afoot, and that the impending council is going to be an explosion of discoveries and strange tales.

All this takes place against the backdrop of my favourite place in all literature:  the Last Homely House east of the Sea.  I noticed during this re-reading how little Tolkien actually tells us about the appearance of this house.  Sometimes it seems more like a country manor with a garden, and sometimes more like a Gothic abbey or even an intricate medieval city.  Perhaps this ambiguity is intentional.  Tolkien indulges in very little description of Rivendell, but what he tells us is significant.  Rivendell retains the memory of good things from all the places of Middle Earth, and it reminds each person of what he loves best.  It is “a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking.”  It has nooks and crannies and Elves of every stripe.  As Pseudo-Dionysius might have put it, Rivendell is variety in unity and unity in variety.

Along with the peaceful harmony of variety, Rivendell is a place of the peaceful harmony of different orders of beings.  By this I mean Elves (themselves possessing varying degrees of greatness), Men, Hobbits, and even Dwarves.  (Surprisingly, except for occasional references, the old feud between Dwarves and Elves seems to be dropped in the Last Homely House).  There is what might be called a “cordial consent of being to being”* throughout the house of Elrond.  For it is a House and not a Court; and Elrond is a host, and not a king.  The great of the world pass through such a place and rub shoulders with the comparatively insignificant, all with the greatest amiability and enjoyment.  The Elves themselves are sometimes “like kings, terrible and splendid,” while others are “merry as children”—and they coexist with perfect amicability.

There are few incidents in the Lord of the Rings that I love as much as Bilbo, the old Hobbit, requisitioning the appearance of Aragorn, the Heir of Isildur and rightful King of most of Middle Earth, to help him work out a rhyme in a little ditty he is composing for the amusement of the Elves.  And Aragorn comes, not because Bilbo is his equal, but because the two are friends, and greatness and smallness do not matter in a such place.  In much the same way, when Frodo is seated (to his dismay!) at the table of the great during Elrond’s feast, his feelings of smallness vanish as he enters into conversation and enjoyment with his neighbors.

What I am trying to gesture at with these ramblings is something I find foreign to our world and way of thinking.  For there is a hierarchy among the intelligent beings in Middle Earth—not merely a hierarchy of position and personal qualities, such as we find in our own world, but a radical hierarchy of essences and species and internal powers.  Our own modern-day quibbles over the equality of the sexes and the races vanishes like a star in the sun in the world of Middle Earth.  For in Middle Earth, the inequalities between Hobbits and Men and Elves are greater, involving the exercise of immaterial powers over persons of lesser degree—involving even the ability to inhabit a suprasensible world in addition to the sensible one.  Yet in houses like Rivendell, this radical hierarchy does not create envy or oppression among the ranks of beings, but rather concord and mutual respect.  There is dominion without domineering, giving-of-place without fawning, and above all, merriment and good humour in putting up with both one’s betters and inferiors.

After all, at the end of the day, the setting of Rivendell gives us the chance to enjoy what some never enjoy in our own world.  In how many places could such a diversity of ranks and privileges co-exist without perversion and abuse?  Rivendell satisfies our desire that Hobbits should be Hobbits and not Elves; that Elves should be immortal and not Men; that Men too should be what they are—some Kings, some innkeepers, and some children—and that all should enjoy the best that their order offers.

*A phrase of Jonathan Edwards’.  Sometimes a Protestant can sound just like a Thomist.

The Lord of the Rings as a modern Buddhist myth? Not very plausible, on the face of it…Although neither God nor a Redeemer is ever mentioned, the tale expresses some Christian influence, according to Tolkien’s own admission (he was a devout Roman Catholic)…There is no hint, either in the story or in its sources, of any Buddhist influences…

And yet…Tolkien’s masterpiece achieves what he intended, which was to create a modern myth; and myths, as he also knew, have a way of growing beyond their creator’s intentions. The Lord of the Rings is much more than an endearing fantasy about three little hobbits, gruff dwarves, and light-footed elves. It has been repeatedly voted the novel of the century — according to some, it is the novel of the millenium! — because so many readers find it deeply moving as well. What is it about the tale that makes it so compelling, so mythic? One answer, for us at least, is that despite its European origins it resonates with Buddhist concern and perspectives.

                                                                                                                                                                                                   (Loy and Goodhew, 2004: 20-21)

The fact that Buddhist themes can be read into LotR is one of the most compelling testimonies to the universal qualities of Buddhism. As suggested in the above passage, LotR is not overtly Buddhist in its mythical qualities, and henceforth, Buddhist themes in the story have not been widely studied. On the other hand, studies on Christian themes in Tolkien’s literary works are so varied and expansive that it may be plausible to say that such Christian themes contribute significantly to defining LotR as a modern Anglo-Saxon, or Western, myth. A Zen Buddhist analysis of LotR does not necessarily become mixed with or even undermine the tale’s Christian roots. Instead, a Zen interpretation is a valid alternative to a Christian interpretation, especially as Tolkien’s writing materialized during an era when Zen Buddhism was becoming increasingly popular in the West. This chapter does not attempt to prove that such Zen influences in Tolkien’s novels were overtly intentional enough to compete with the significance of the Christian influences. Instead, this chapter provides a Zen reading — independent of any contentious issues with Christian themes — of a significant episode in the film version of LotR. This episode begins in Troll’s Clearing, and progressively incorporates an apparition scene, action sequences, and surreal visual assemblages that suggest Frodo’s spiritual elevation. Together, these presentations portray the powers of immortal Elves fusing with the consciousness of a mortal Hobbit, accelerating the expansion of the Hobbit’s consciousness so that the Hobbit comes to experience what can be argued as an equivalent of Zen enlightenment.

A Zen reading of these successive scenes holds to the premise that Zen is “the art of seeing into the nature of one’s own being, and it points the way from bondage to freedom”. (Suzuki, 1970: 13) As an access and a view into one’s true nature, and a means towards liberation, Zen thus becomes a universal ideal. This universal quality significantly heightens the appropriateness of a Zen analysis of LotR, as the story itself contains the widest range of multi-cultural and multi-lingual themes.

                                                                                                                                                        Lalipa Nilubol

                                                                                                                                                        Edinburgh, Scotland

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Loy, David R. and Goodhew, Linda (2004), The Dharma of Dragons and Daemons: Buddhist Themes in Modern Fantasy, Wisdom Publications, Boston

Suzuki, Daisetz Teitaro (1970) [1949], Essays in Zen Buddhism 1st Series, Rider and Company, London

Caveat: I’ve never been a girl to dream about my wedding, or my wedding gown. Also, I’ve rarely played with dolls – only Barbies when I was around 7-8 yrs old – as I preferred running around, playing Police or doctor-related games, punching my friends as opposed to kissing, you get the gist

Originally, I wanted a Medieval themed wedding. The reasons being I’ve always been a tomboy (therefore I didn’t want a gown with corsets, garters, etc), I wanted to be comfortable, and I’ve always been in loved with Pre-Raphaelite paintings such as this one

Needless to say, the venue matches the Medieval theme very well. On top of that, I look like one of these Pre-Raphaelite ladies…

So I started hunting dresses down… I was after something like this:

If I were to keep it short and simple I would define it: long, ivory, bateau neck, dropped waist, comfortable.

At this point, a lot of sinchronicity happened… I sent emails to two ladies doing bespoke gowns, none of them replied. One replied after some weeks, just to say she would write again but never did. At this point I was frantic as I was running out of time. In fact, the wedding was originally scheduled for Jan 11th 2010.

So I start browsing the net over and over to see if I could find a dress I could fall in love with, or at least be comfortable buying as is.

My final choices for the Medieval gown were either Lindsay Fleming and Rivendell Bridal. However, I still was feeling something holding me back, and was wondering what it was…

At this point, in order to understand me and what I was going through, you need to understand how my brain works. I mean, as far as I’ve figured it out LOL

Sleeping is a very important part of my life, in that it’s when I sleep that feelings coalesce and express themselves through imagery. So when I speak of a “dream wedding” I don’t mean something that has been carefully crafted by my rational mind, but something that has emerged from my emotional brain, when I was sleeping in the darkness and allowing free associations to get done and undone.

This being said, I have a kind of emotional traffic light in my head. There is the “don’t go” (red light),  the “it’s it” (green light) and the “not yet” (yellow/orange light). Most of the time I’m in yellow light mode and – when and if I do – I stay away from taking decisions. So — back to the wedding dress — I was in “yellow light mode” and I couldn’t understand why. Being a neuroscientist in the making I thought I had something unresolved about the wedding  but the emotional traffic light was set on “green”. I only had problems with the dress!

Now that I think back about it, I realize what it was. To put it simply, I wasn’t in love with any dress, so I was having a hard time following through with the order, pushing the vendors to get a reply, you name it.

I kept on browsing till I found a dress — a dress that gave me that skipped heartbeat once again, this beauty:

Valentino for Pronovias -- Metis

I was totally, and absolutely, taken.

I started googling its name around, so that I could find more pictures, and here they are:

No wonder I was so taken!

But then, the disbelief… could it be my dress? I mean, could I wear it? I had a little bit of a shock thinking about me in an Alencon lace gown. For one, my mom would be happy to see me in lace, and that’s a very good reason to boot the idea *grin* For two, I didn’t know how comfortable I would feel wearing something like this. But that little voice inside kept on saying “this, this, THIS is the one”.

It happened the same thing when I met Pat… I didn’t allow the logistics deter me 7 years ago (we met online, he was living in NYC I was living in Pisa Italy), should I allow it to happen now? No way!

So I firmly decide for this dress and ordered it from Denise. I’ve browsed a lot of sites, even just finished watching the Bridal Fashion Show on Brides.com but no other gown has told me “I’m yours” the way this one has, so I’m happy.

Being a big JRR Tolkien fan every time I venture into a deep set of woods I always feel like a character out of Middle Earth heading toward the fabled Elven City of Rivendell. That rich, moisture laden air, the mist hanging low above the tops of the trees… that smell of earth and life… if you look closely enough, you might actually make out Elrond at the lower right, pointy ears and all.

This is the trail up to Little and Big Cascade Falls in Vermont. Turns out the falls weren’t too full, I’ll post some shots at a later date, but the woods and the trip through them made it worth it.

Enjoy!

Despite planning our trip for a month, we still had no idea where we were going.  One option involved speeding west to Salt Lake City, Utah to see Bon Iver in two days, and then heading up the coast to Oregon.  Our issues with this plan were that we’d have to make the drive in two days, and the Bon Iver show was a free Saturday performance at a down town park.  Free park shows always stink because anyone shows up, regardless of who is playing.  A few years back I watched Public Enemy at a park in Austin surrounded by hippies and baby strollers.

Although, I do think Flava Flav would play well with Utah's polygamy crowd.

Our second option would be to stay in Colorado five days and seeing Bon Iver in Boulder.  This option was weak because we’d already planned to meet our college friend Tony Nath in Denver for the last week of our trip.  Although it is a state where mountains and breweries are bountiful, I didn’t want to spend 50% of our trip there when Oregon called our names. 

 Our final option would be to miss Bon Iver altogether, heading North through Wyoming, stopping in Montana, swinging down through Idaho, and finally reaching the promise land: Oregon.  It would be our own version of Oregon trail, minus all the snowstorms and cholera.  The weakness with this choice would be the lack of live shows until reaching Oregon, almost a week and a half away. Plus, my anticipation for Portland brews and ocean air would be placed on the back-burner. 

 Before making a decision, one thing was clear – we needed supplies: hiking gear, packs, and a tent.  As we ventured across Wyoming, we spotted an Outdoor Expo Outlet along the highway and decided to stop and take care of the Rivendell portion of our trip in one fell swoop.

Unfortunately, the outlet store stunk.  They only sold Hobbit sized packs, and their tents were over-priced. As we walked out of the store, murky skies greeted us once again. More storms were ahead.  Without a tent, where would we stay for the night?

 Not a problem.  A year earlier we stayed in a cave outside of Laramie, so we decided we would stay there again for the night.  The only complication would be finding the cave within Vedavoo State Park, and to make matters worse, the storm clouds were quickly attacking the remaining sunlight. 

 After a quick stop at a grocery store for hot dogs and soup, Paul drove us up a gravel road that led us up to the park. Once out of the car and roaming through the rocky terrain, we were somewhat lost, uncertain where we camped the year earlier.

 “Maybe we can just stay in a separate inlet,” Paul suggested.  But as we ventured further into the park, my memory of the area popped in my head like a flash bulb. 

“I know where we stayed,” I said with confidence, walking ahead. 

 “Lead the way,” Paul responded.  I knew he doubted me, and why wouldn’t he? My sense of direction is despicable.  It’s so bad that while working as a sports writer at my hometown newspaper, I once got lost driving back from Armstrong, a small town less then 20 miles west of where I lived for 20 years of my life.  When I reached the Minnesota border I realized I’d made a wrong turn.

I was like Daredevil, except in this case Hell's Kitchen was a cave.

Then it hit me. “It’s over here,” I announced, turning left and heading straight into a patch of tall grass surrounded by tall rock walls. 

 As I headed up the corridor of rock, Paul called after me, “Are you sure?” Ignoring his question, I ventured on, climbing a familiar incline.  At its peak I looked down to see a stack of fire wood sitting upon a rock.  Instantly I knew it was our wood pile, created only a year earlier during our first stay in the cave. 

 “Paul, this is it!” I shouted, my voice echoing out toward Paul and the rest of the Wyoming countryside.  When he finally arrived, he couldn’t believe that I’d found our one time humble abode. 

Although we had left a bundle of sticks the year before, Paul decided we needed more wood to cook up our hotdogs and keep us warm for the night. After a quick jaunt around the area, our pile had doubled.  Soon after Paul had our first fire of the trip stoked.  We cooked up a couple dogs, chowed down, enjoying our uniquely familiar surroundings.

So easy, even a caveman can do it.

 Eventually, with the fire dying down and the cold settling in, we bundled up in our sleeping bags and went to bed. Despite my drowsiness, I couldn’t get to sleep with a chill in the air and a rugged rock floor beneath me.  Yes, I was back in the wild.

That smile is hiding the pain of a my bed-rock.

The next morning I awoke to find Paul already up, standing on a giant blouder, rolling up his sleeping bag. “Hey Ocean Man, let’s get going,” he said looking down.  I threw him my sleeping bag, then struggled to stand, cramped and sore from my bed of stone.  Knees creaking, muscles aching, I felt older than ever.  Maybe 30 year olds aren’t supposed to sleep in caves.

Paul referred to this process as the "Rock n' Roll".

By the time I got my weary bones moving, Paul arrived with a breakfast comprised of homemade power bars. I forced mine down with a smile, cringing at the thought that I was eating a mixture of oats, nuts, and mouse droppings.

Once packed up, we headed to Cheyenne in hopes of having better luck with gear shopping. We would decide our trip plans from there. Once in Cheyenne, we drove around lost for a bit in search of a Sports Authority or Scheels.  As we drove, Paul noticed a pattern. Every bar (and I mean EVERY bar) had a Crown Royal banner hanging out front. We even spotted a couple Crown Royal billboards, something I’ve never even seen in the alcoholic city of San Antonio.  We contemplated why Crown Royal was so popular in this mountain town.  Did they make Crown in Cheyenne? Was it the whiskey drinking cowboy population? And if so, wouldn’t you think they’d prefer a more rustic whisky like Jack Daniels or Jim Beam?

Or maybe they just like things that come in velvety bags (this includes the scrot).

Continuing up Crown Royal Boulevard, Paul spotted an army surplus store and suggested we get supplies there.  We pulled in only to discover it didn’t open for another hour.  Comforted that we had a back-up plan, we headed on up the road, eventually finding the mall, prominently featuring a Sports Authority.  Inside we were once again disappointed by a lack of man-sized packs and a weak tent selection. The store was empty, with the two of us being the only patrons.   The clerks followed us around suspiciously, while we scowled at their over-priced products.

 Fearing our trip would be stalled another day due to a lack of shelter, I sucked it up and purchased a two man tent that advertised that it only weighed five pounds.  After hiking the year before with all the heavy gear, I couldn’t argue with the five pound feature of the tent.  Leaving the Sports Authority, I quoted “Swingers” saying, “This place is dead anyways.”

 Paul dryly remarked, “Yeah, people in Wyoming hate authority.”

Back on the whiskey lined streets, we headed back toward the army suplus store.  With Paul driving, I looked through his I-Pod filled with black metal, lo-fi noise, and obscure 70s folk propaganda.  Tucked amidst these albums, I discovered an album with a “Lord of Rings” themed cover.  “What’s this ‘Lord of the Rings’ album?” I asked.

“Oh, I downloaded that for you to listen to while you read ‘Fellowship’, which we still need to get you.  It’s by some dude from the 70s named Bo Hansson.” 

“Bo Hansson it is,” I said chuckling and playing the strange music, layered with organs and strange renaissance instrumentation.  With Tolkien’s Middle Earth on the brain, I mentioned, “Do they ever talk about Gandalf having a home in ‘Lord of the Rings’? In ‘The Hobbit’ he’s basically a nomad.”

 “No, I don’t think so,” Paul responded.

 “He’s like a hobo dude.”

 “Yeah,” Paul responded. “That’s why Gandalf rules.  If I don’t get a job this summer, I might do the same thing.” Although the idea of living the hobo life sounds exciting, I think it has been romanticized a bit. I didn’t like the idea of my friend becoming a drifter, possibly losing contact with him altogether.

Back at the now open surplus store, we made our way into the entrance. A tall man in his 50s stood at the register, suited up in a camouflage uniform from head to toe, topped off with a crew-cut hair cut and black rimmed army spectacles.  He glanced up at us as we passed saying, “Hello gentleman and lady.”  We walked on with me holding in my laughter, knowing he’d mistaken Paul as a girl from behind.  I wasn’t sure if it was on accident or on purpose.  I wondered if he was one of those hippie hating Vietnam veterans, still taking jab at long haired tree huggers.

 Right away Paul located some nice army packs and handed one for me to check out.  As we tried them on with excitement, the stoic army clerk approached us.  “Those are good packs, but if you want the best, you want this version,” he said reaching up and pulling down a pack that looked familiar to what we were trying on.  “This is the most versatile pack you will ever find.” He said with purpose.  For the next 10 minutes he methodically showed us how this one pack with a plastic back frame could be modified to have a travel pack, a vest for ammo, a butt pack, side packs, etc, etc, etc.  There was no doubt, this serious sergeant knew his shit. 

"It slices, it dices..."

He ended his presentation saying, “If you can think of it, you can do it with this pack.” Paul and I were sold. 

“Did you use this pack when you served?” Paul asked.

“No, I used an earlier version,” he replied.

“Well, you seem to know a lot about your gear,” I added.

He looked up at me from the floor, where he had performed his demonstration.  Finally, he spoke. “I served as a mountain ranger for 20 years, but still like to keep up on the latest gear. ” He paused and looked at the two of us with a steely glare. “”When you’ve learned everything you ever needed to know from someone, you keep up with your Army.”

There was a moment of silence as he finished setting up the pack for optimal mountain hiking, then spoke again. “So, do you both want to get one?”

“Yes!” we responded in unison.

“I’ll be right back. I have another one in storage.” He left us alone. Paul and I shared a look of “Holy shit this dude rules!”  We then began looking around the store for other gear. I found a mat that would come in handy if I slept on a cave floor again. Paul began scouring the nearby boxes for more gear. The first box featured used brown army shirts which Paul insisted we buy.

I agreed. “Yeah, these are pretty sweet.” Then Paul moved to another box, filled with brown used Army underwear. Once again, he tossed one in my direction. “No thanks.” He continued to insist upon purchasing second hand underwear, but I refused. Despite my disgust, Paul would end up purchasing three used, brown, undies.

"You know you're not in high finance. Considering second-hand underpants." -Flight of the Conchords

The Army master returned with a large pack announcing, “This is for the big guy.” I took pride in the sergeant calling me ‘The Big Guy’.  “Come here and watch this,” he said to me. I stood over him as he once again walked me through how to set up the pack. It seemed the soldier who originally received my pack didn’t know what he was doing. The Sarge complained while fixing former mistakes, “This must have been owned by an Air Force guy. Done all wrong. They get these guys new equipment they don’t understand for the one week they are in the barracks. Never use it. The field?  the air forces idea of the field is sitting in the barracks waiting to deploy.  they don’t know the field.” Although I didn’t like the idea of government money going into unused packs, I was happy to know mine had barely been touched. 

As he moved along fixing my messed up pack, he realized it was missing an important strap. “I have another one of these straps at home. Come back tomorrow and I’ll adjust your pack with it.”  This guy has straps at home? How dedicated can one be to the Army?

"Fuck Air Force. GO JOE!"

We told him we’d be back the next day, which meant our idea of heading to Utah for Bon Iver was probably out of the question. When we paid with our credit card, the sarge took the time to read our names and say after payment, “Thank you for your purchase Andrew Schroeder,” and, “Thank you for your purchase Paul Peterson.” Basically, what I’m saying, is this guy might be the biggest  bad-ass/most respectful fella EVER.

He was like Rambo, minus the "douche" factor.

Outside by the car, Paul tried on his pack once again, giddy with excitement. He commented, “That guy ruled. I’ve thought about joining the military if the whole job search doesn’t work out.” Once again, Paul’s worries about finding a job resurfaced, with another option arising. Looking at my friend with his new Army pack upon his back, I selfishly preferred the idea of him using it to survive the streets of America over the streets of Iraq.

At last!  The hour has come for the answering of many questions, the probing of many mysteries left veiled and inscrutable.  For as Book II of The Fellowship of the Ring opens, Frodo is awakening in Rivendell to a new measure of life and health, as if he were coming to life again and being reborn to a higher order of knowledge and duty.  His convalescence takes place under the watchful eyes of Gandalf and Elrond, who are shortly to hold a council.  Many things hitherto unexplained are to be made plain, and the thoughts of many hearts are to be laid bare.

Within his first hour of waking in Rivendell, Frodo and the reader learn several things from Gandalf about the part Frodo has been playing in the cosmopolitan game against Mordor.  Foremost among the revelations is something that the reader already knew:  that the Ringwraiths inhabit a world different from the every-day mortal one, and that Frodo was teetering on the brink of this world until Elrond came to his rescue.  The surprising piece of news, however, is that Ringwraiths are not the only beings to inhabit this “otherworldly” parallel universe.

“Here in Rivendell,” Gandalf tells Frodo, “there live still some of [the Enemy’s] chief foes:  the Elven-wise, lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas.  They do not fear the Ringwraiths, for those who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm live at once in both worlds, and against both the Seen and the Unseen they have great power.”

The Seen and the Unseen.  Are these, then, the proper names by which to call the Two Worlds?  It’s as if the first world were primarily material, subjected to the five senses, while the second was somehow beyond the material and subject to other modes of perception.  We are reminded of what Strider said before the attack on Weathertop:  “Senses, too, there are other than sight and smell.  We can feel their presence… they feel ours more keenly.”

Yet Gandalf and the Elves perceive the Ringwraiths very differently than Frodo does, even though at the last even Frodo entered the world of the Unseen.  Frodo, on the brink of the Ringwraiths’ world, experiences the wraiths as powerful substances.  Gandalf, however, continues to speak of the wraiths as if they were literally nothing.  “The black robes,” he says, “are real robes that they wear to give shape to their nothingness when they have dealings with the living.”  How can Frodo and Gandalf, both seeing the Unseen, see it so differently?

Here, I believe, is another clue to that tangle called “the Problem of Evil” in Middle Earth.  The clue is that we must cast this problem in terms of two different worlds and two different orders of being.  For the Unseen world comprises a higher order than the Seen, and beings who can operate in the Unseen world have, de facto, a sort of power over the Seen world as well.

Let us imagine that certain beings in the Unseen World have become corrupt and evil.  Relative to the uncorrupted beings—good Elves like Glorfindel, Half-Elves like Elrond, wizards like Gandalf—these evil beings seem to have lost something, to have degenerated to the level of shadows and nothingness.  That is why Gandalf can speak of the Wraiths as nothing, and why Glorfindel has no fear of them.  However, relative to the Seen world, these corrupted beings retain their powers.  In fact, their power over the Seen world may still be great, even though they themselves have degenerated as beings within the Unseen world.

That is why Frodo, encountering the Ringwraiths from the vantage point of the Seen, is so easily subject to their mastery; while Glorfindel, revealing himself to them in his otherworldly wrath by the Ford of Bruinen, wreaks fear and havoc on them.  We cannot compare a pea and an apple.  Glorfindel is by all rights the peer of the Ringwraiths in their own world.  Frodo is not.  By the wraiths’ degeneracy into evil, they have made themselves lesser than Glorfindel.  By their nature as great beings, they are still greater than Frodo.

The elves are back. Or Smurfs or something similar.

At my age there are some trends I absolutely love and conveniently forget that I am in my 50’s so that I can do them. I love to wear baseball caps, trainers, baggy jeans, bright Tshirts – in other words just like a teenager!  There are other trends that make no sense to me at all: the dead gallus tuned to the moon positioning of Burberry-fabric baseball caps, jeans that are halfway down the persons bottom.

And one more.

We were through in Livingston today at the McArthur Glen outlet centre looking for suitcases and found elves. Lots of them. Every time I turned a corner there was another one wearing its little elf hat made from grey ribbed fabric. The shops don’t let on that they are elf hats. They’re called beanie hats. You see that sounds trendy to the very young: call it an elf hat and suddenly sales would drop through the floor of the toadstool.

Next time you’re out and about watch for the elves and count them. Today I counted about 12 in the space of two hours. Strange thing is I think the hats are unisex and curiously enough the elves become unisex elves once they put on their elf hats. It’s extremely difficult to decide if its a girl elf or a boy elf  because the hats cover up their hair.

Elves are mischievous beings so watch out and don’t upset them or you might find yourself under some kind of spell.

Check out this site once we get closer to Christmas:  http://www.elfyourself.com/?userid=e01338fb1bdf3ef8bcd8c3f_20061205

Oh, and by the way I don’t hate elves, I just hate those whose elf esteem is so low that they have to dress like elves.

JohnelF

Today’s contributor is Dottie of Let’s Go Ride a Bike! I’ve been admiring her blog and her bikes from a far since shortly after she and Trisha started the blog.
-Doohickie

Howdy. You knew Betty Foy was coming eventually I love the Mixte Gallery!

Dottie with her Betty Foy

This is Rivendell Betty Foy, my dream bicycle. Finding a new mixte was a challenge and I am very happy with the result of my long search.

The end of the rainbow!

She has 24 gears, 650b wheels, Schwalbe Marathon tires (never a flat), Honjo hammered fenders, Brooks honey B17S saddle, MKS sneaker pedals, Nitto front rack, crappy Pletscher rear rack that I need to replace,
[Hey! Pletscher makes good stuff! -Doohickie]

Rear view with Ted the Cat

Wald basket, Nitto albatross bars, shellacked and twined cork grips, bar end shifters, rear view mirror, and a brass bell.

Yep, all the bells & whistles!

She rides wonderfully as a fast and smooth city bike, and I hope to take her on a mini-tour through the countryside soon!

Dottie

Classic styling all around

Thanks, Dottie! It’s a great bike. Now if you could only convince your blog partner to send me Le Peug…
-Doohickie

by Theo Dentchev

Which movie is better?

Some might say that the answer is entirely subjective, and so you cannot conclusively say one is better or worse. That’s true enough, but I’m not asking, “which one do you like more.” Rather which one is objectively better? I suppose to make that kind of judgment we will need to define a set of criteria for determining which is indeed “better.” I propose we look at and compare the following four characteristics commonly used when evaluating film: coherence, intensity of effect, complexity, and originality.

Let us omit discussing complexity and simply assume that both films are sufficiently complex. That is, they both engage us on several different levels and have relatively intricate systems of relationships. Let us also omit intensity of effect, as that covers a range of subjects which are more subjective than I would like, such as how vivid or emotionally powerful the film is.

Then let us begin with coherence, or unity, which refers to how well or clearly everything is presented in a film, and if all the loose elements are tied up by the end. Now, being installations in a series, both of our films don’t conclude their stories and naturally leave certain things unaddressed (left, we assume, for the sequel to pick up on). Though we have to keep that in mind, we can still compare the way the rest of both films are structured. In The Fellowship of the Ring all of the characters and events clearly and logically relate to each other and serve a purpose. Those that don’t are either being left for the next film, or are negligible and require careful viewing to catch. In Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince it is more fragmented, as though not fully completed, and in a way unrelated to the fact that it is to have a sequel. There are scenes and places which, in the context of the movie, make little sense and are unclear. A striking example can be found at the end of the film, when Dumbledore is confronted by Draco Malfoy atop the astronomy tower and eventually killed by Snape. Harry is hiding in the vicinity the entire time yet does nothing until after Dumbledore is already dead. His inaction does not make any sense and is completely dissonant with his character as well as with the nature of his relationship with Dumbledore. In the book his action is explained by Dumbledore immobilizing with a spell which does not wear off until either he dies, but in the movie it is simply illogical.

That last example is a good place to bring originality into the discussion. Yes, both films are adaptations of books and as such one might be inclined to say that the films cannot be original, but even in films which have a frequently used subject, originality can be found in the way that subject is presented. Likewise both these films display originality in the way they relate the story which they are adapting. Both do depart from the text, sometimes changing minor details, sometimes going so far as to omit entire portions of the book. However, the changes and omissions that are made in The Fellowship of the Ring are done so that the viewer is able to more easily and quickly understand the plot, as superfluous characters and events which serve to unnecessarily complicate the plots are shorn off (such as Tom Bombadil, who never appears in the movie, and the corresponding scene in Rivendell where it is suggested that the ring be given to him). The end result is a more streamlined work that, while differing in some places from it’s source, still tells a complete story and gives the viewer all the information they need to understand and appreciate it within the length limitations of the film meidum. In contrast, Harry Potter omits vital scenes (such as several memories of a young Tom Riddle which offer insight into his character’s motivations and also give more information about the horcruxes), while adding completely irrelevant scenes which do do nothing for the story other than complicate it (such as the burning of the Burrow, which never happens in the book and which goes on to appear again in the seventh book). The end result is that those who are not familiar with the source text will find it difficult to understand everything. While undoubtedly both have elements of originality, just being original without a purpose has no worth. The Lord of the Rings is original in a way which has a clear purpose and achieves the desired effect, while the originality of Harry Potter is haphazard and only undermines the film.

From those two respects The Fellowship of the Ring emerges as the “better” of the two films. Having not covered half of the criteria I suggested in the first paragraph, I could certainly see someone making an argument that Harry Potter is more complex or has greater intensity of effect to the extent that it makes up for its deficiencies in the other areas. Such an argument would have to be very convincing, and I myself am rather skeptical as to the possibility of such an argument existing. But maybe that is just my personal bias, and regardless of what objective judgments we might render, in the end they likely won’t be the determining factor in which film you enjoy more.

-TD

I had hoped to show more details on the five bikes, and to explain what makes each one special.  Well, that’ll have to wait as I’ve run out of time — but anyway, the one I’m using on my tour is the one with the “H” headbadge, a Hillborne made by Rivendell.  Riv is a small company based in Walnut Creek CA, and the Hillborne is set up for a trip like this with wider-than-normal tires, fenders for the rain, racks for bags, and super-low gearing for those mountains.  With that low gear I can ride almost slower than a slow walk, and in the mountains that may be just what’s needed!

As a get-ready for my big trip out west, Elena and I spent a few days in Newport, RI, and we both did a lot of riding.  Here’s a night shot of the Newport-Jamestown bridge which I took while waiting for our ferry boat:

This will be my last post from Boston.  I leave for Oregon this Saturday, and if I can get internet access I hope to add photos during my trip.  So long for now!

Well, now that every other Rivendell loving blog has announced the new Riv bicycle, I’ll do the same.

Announcing the new Rivendell road bike… The Roadeo.

The Roadeo is a sub-20 lb., steel framed, go fast, club oriented, road “racing” bike that will, unsurprisingly, not be made in my size. Unlike any other bike in this category that I know of, it fits up to 35mm tires. (Hello dirt.)

Here’s a short interview with Grant Peterson concerning his new design.

The Rivendell Roadeo

]]> http://jimscherer.wordpress.com/2009/08/14/my-five-bikes/ Fri, 14 Aug 2009 22:37:58 +0000 Jim http://jimscherer.wordpress.com/2009/08/14/my-five-bikes/

Here is my current fleet of bikes.  I’ll write more on the particulars later, but first, if some of you are wondering what’s the point of having 5 bikes, believe me I know people who have twice as many!  Each of these is unique in its own way, but the one thing they have in common is that they’re all steel.  Not having aluminum, titanium, or carbon frames makes me kind of old-school, but so be it.

Orkiestra Rivendell

TEATR CZTERY ŻYWIOŁY (Chojnice) – „Zapomniani podróżni”

]]> http://bliggityblog.wordpress.com/2009/08/02/fisher-the-present-and-future-of-road-bikes/ Mon, 03 Aug 2009 04:38:25 +0000 AlbiRacer http://bliggityblog.wordpress.com/2009/08/02/fisher-the-present-and-future-of-road-bikes/

(photo by James Huang of cyclingnews.com)

Gary Fisher seems to have been reading my mind, for a preview of his 2010 road offerings popped up on cyclingnews recently (and later on velonews)…and it paralleled pretty much everything I’d been thinking about my ideal road bike recently (more on those dreams in another post). I was kind of turned off with Fisher/Trek this past year as they clearly just ginned up a Fisher road line after the falling out with LeMond – the bikes seemed just…meh, really.

However, mark my words here, the Fisher 2010 line-up of road and cross machines will be viewed as seminal.

What is so cool with these bikes (actually, there are just two framesets, but built into a few different models) is that they are totally practical but still cutting-edge road machines. The carbon frames – which are, apparently, just as tricked out as the new Madones – have clearance for 28mm tires! So, you can have a bad-ass, full-on carbon racing bike…and still run Rivendell’s Rolly-Polly tires. Further – built-in, low profile fender mounts are included, so these race bikes can be equipped with full fenders easily.

(photo by James Huang of cyclingnews.com)

At the risk of sounding a bit hokey here, I believe that we are entering (or have already entered, in the past two years or so) a new era of useful bike design. Most fundamentally, we are seeing the (re)emergence of useful bikes to a degree probably not seen since the 1980s. This would seem to be the confluence of a number of distinct trends within the business, some of which I wouldn’t have anticipated all that long ago, and some of which, while not so surprising, are interacting with others to produce some unintended consequences.

For one thing, cycling is just more popular again. Of course much of this derives from the Lance Armstrong factor. Perhaps some is to be attributed to a general reorientation toward frugality and simplicity in light of the ongoing recession (as well as concerns about energy, oil and environment). The fixie culture is both a sign of this popularity, but also (in an indirect way) a source of innovation and pressure for innovation in the “mainstream” cycling biz. The fixie thing (and cyclo-x to a point) seems to have opened the door to more lower-end innovation in product lines – companies competing in the sub $1k range, or even lower, by working on parts spec, paint and overall style.

All of the above seem like strengths of the market right now. Yet, on the other hand, it also seems to me that these could be read as weaknesses of sorts. At base, is this new situation not simply a reflection of  a total productive glut in the cycling biz? There seems to have been a steady growth of peripheral “manufacturers” that aren’t actually making anything – they are spec’ing bikes from a variety of suppliers (think the re-born Masi, Tommasso, Motobecane, etc.), commissioning parts (a la Velo Orange), and working on marketing and branding. If you are willing to take a real plunge, there are even quite a few full-carbon Asian framesets available at crazy cheap prices as well – and not just junk, but bikes with good details, integrated seat masts, etc.

This is not a knock on these bikes, because one of these artfully spec’d generic bikes will likely be my next. However, if anyone with a good eye, the right connections and the money up front to place orders through Asian contracting networks can put together a small line of bikes and sell them through the web or ebay….then, well, EVERYONE can do it! And, when everyone can do something, that is usually the time to stop doing it…at least if you want to make any money doing it.

The intensifying competition in all of these distinct niches within the the bicycle market certainly is a good thing for those of us interested in useful and interesting bikes. Differentiation through design is a good thing – and the Fisher line shows that there is absolutely no reason NOT to design even a high-end race bike to also be, you know, useful to those buying it. But maybe these are ultimately the signs of dark clouds on the horizon?

bb

Rode out to a July 4th party west of Bastrop yesterday.

In my ongoing attempt at ignoring the weather I think I may have cooked my brain.

The Road

The Quickbeam

Shiloh, Tx.

Funny. I don’t feel like I’m on Leisure Ln.

care of Melissa Lomax at StillBleeding. I.e. blame her, not me.

prost-i-hobbit (n.) - a hobbit prostitute.  

Origin, early twenty-first century, coined by the Lomax family while listening to Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan (on the LOTR FOTR extended DVD commentary) talk about the weeping of female elves in Rivendell upon loosing their hobbit sugar daddies.

Yes, it’s wrong on oh-so-many levels, but I nearly died laughing when she mentioned it to me.  And I felt compelled to share.  Wasn’t that nice of me?!  :)

Prometo traer algo mejor la próxima semana… Ahora me estoy recuperando del stress post-examen.

(La peña del coche son Elrond, la hija del cantante de aerosmith Arwen y el señor Bilbo)

I´ve been trying to write a post about Rivendell, but realised it´s gonna take some time… For the moment, here´s a conversation I had, at Rivendell, many years ago…

Mim and my favourite former school teacher and I sitting around at a wedding, mere days after I´d matriculated…

T: Blah blah blah, Sir?
Rick Random: Don´t you fucking call me Sir!

Photographed by Gino

…which of course came after Step 1.

Jitensha Studio Nitto bar, Paul silver thumbies, Portuguese cork grips. It handles so much better than the Albatross (for how I use it).

– License