July 21, 2004
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The Hippogriff Syndrome
The ancient archives of legendary creatures has been deeply mined by many, most recently and most successfully by Rowling -- to the degree that every 9-year-old knows and loves the prickly hippogriff. According to the legend, the hippogriff was a symbol of love, being, as it was, the offspring of mortal enemies Gryffon and Horse. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind Buckbeak replacing those gaggingly stupid-cute Cupids as emblems of the difficulties, as well as the sweetness, of love.
But that's not my current point. I was thinking more about the difficulties of being an amalgamated being. Apparently the creators of Buckbeak (screen version) spent a lot of time at the zoo looking at horses and birds and arguing about movements and habits. Apparently it was a tough assignment, giving the vast differences between the two (although -- I mean. Can you imagine a better or more fun/creative way to have spent a year's employment making -- ha ha -- a buck? Wow).
When I walk down the sleepy summer street in my little Midwestern college town, I know I look more-or-less like everyone else: a little hot, a little squint-eyed, a little sweaty under the collar. I don't stand out. My husband once informed me I was the sort of person at whom people don't look twice on the subway. I gave that comment right back to him, too. It's very true. We're both of us pretty average-looking human beings: Your Standard White Anglo-Saxon American. No bird legs. No tails. No wings. Nothing weird.
But inside I feel like Buckbeak in disguise. I struggle between so many roles and responsibilities that I can't seem to get my own self-definition straight. Am I first-and-foremost a Horse, with two lovely foals, meandering the pasture and nickering gently to my young? I'd like to think so, but how often does the Gryffon-Executive shoulder its way in and take over my persona, with all her quick talk and shined shoes and client-knows-best? Then there are the days when I do both, and more: talking Gryffon-talk on the phone while shushing the foal at my knee -- oh, and giving an apologetic glance at the spouse, who I'd promised to help with some household duty or other, hours ago.
I suppose we're all amalgams at heart, all us similar folks swaying to the rhythm of the same train while hiding our hooves and our beaks and our wings under our samenesses.
A happy day to you, fellow Buckys.
Comments (8)
I guess what you feel and what others say they see is rarely congruent. You're back!
Even if you think you look like an average person, you are far far far from that. I often feel that split in persona too. I suppose that's what makes us interesting.
there's beauty in the nondescript.
Wait 'till those foals become yearlings! Thats when you morph from a hippogriff to chimaera (look it up...creature with real anger issues!)
Wouldn't it be nice if we all externally projected the kind of beauty that's inside all of us?
You already know this I know, but it bears repeating: Outside looks fade with time, inner beauty just grows more and more beautiful.
I'm reminded of a science fiction story involving an earthling's stay on a distant planet, where all the creatures were different from one another -- different shapes and colors and different numbers of limbs and organs, only a fraction being at all what what could call humanoid. The earthling commented on the differences and explained how on our own planet everyone looked relatively alike.
In fact we're all very different from one another, and at the same time very much alike in that we have similar biological needs and urges. The similarities between various cultural mythologies are amazing to contemplate. And the differences come from the major effect that can be caused in a tiny variation in genetics or upbringing.
So I guess that means you're right! You're the same and you're different, and there's no contradiction.
Oh, by the way, it's nice to have you back. I didn't know you were posting again. Yay yay and whoop-te-doo, in the best possible sense.
Yes, I think we're all cocktails, mixes of this-and-that. It took me kind of a long time to realise that, but realise it I finally did. It makes me like people better, that realisation, actually.
and then there's the matter of getting the hair combed juuuust right to cover the little horns.
'cept for me. i just have this darned halo to work with. o_0 bahahaaaa!
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