Lokasenna
The Fire
Let us, for a moment, consider ourselves. We are living, breathing creatures, functioning in the world as very complicated biological structures. The brain is said to be the centre of our being: it monitors our thoughts, emotions, memories and reactions, which all eventually determine who we are and how we function in the world.
But apart from these palpable systems within our body, the mind is still a mysterious thing. It might be possible to trace back every feeling we have to particular impulses in our brain. Every reaction we have to what we feel, and how we experience certain events, can -in fact- be linked to memories and environmental influences stored inside the brain. But what about that part of us of which we can honestly, truly, consciously -and especially unconsciously-, call "me". Are we all just systems of biological reactions, or is there some part in every living being that is unique and pure, which belongs to us and could never belong to anyone else? A part that constitutes not only our physical body, but also our ethereal body. Would this, then, be a soul?
Is this the same as the person we think we are, or want to be, or is that what we perceive as ourself through the brain?
Body, soul, ego.
Where can a distinction be made between these parts, though? And more importantly: how will we become conscious of these distinctions?
While she walked back from the kitchens to Loki's cell, Sigyn felt utterly disconnected; not only from the people she had come to view as a kind of surrogate family, but she also felt disconnected from herself. For a moment she hardly knew where she was or what she was doing or even who she was until Loki's voice lifted her out of her internal confusion. 'Did you ask Frigga for a new book?'
'What?'
'Did Frigga give you another book?'
'Oh, no… I didn't.. I forgot to go to her.'
A disappointed frown formed on his face. 'Oh. Well. Maybe you can visit her later, before she goes to bed?'
'What?'
'Is something the matter?' he asked, examining her closely. Her eyes kept darting around the room, as if she was thinking furiously.
'I… No. Nothing's the matter. I'm just a little tired, I suppose. I did not get much sleep last night.'
Although they had now established verbal contact, the actual contact was still very limited to him speaking a lot and her listening a lot. She did, on occasion, offer her opinion about certain things if he asked her but usually kept her answers short and sweet. But apart from that heated conversation in the bathroom a couple of days ago, where they had both revealed more of themselves than they might have wanted to, they had not spoken about anything personal. It was unsettling for him to see Sig display emotion, although she tried to hide it. He was not necessarily concerned about what was on her mind, but curiosity had the better of him: he could not stand being withheld information. Especially in his current circumstances, where Sig and Frigga's books were his only form of entertainment. He decided not to press her any further, he did not want to upset her any more now that they had finally started talking to one another, instead he held out his hand for the plate with his dinner. 'I'll get your book tomorrow,' she said, 'I think I need an early night's sleep.' He nodded, set the plate down on the table and when he looked back she had already left his cell.
Sig did not go to bed when she left the prison. Instead she locked herself in the bathroom in the dungeons and spent the rest of the evening conjuring up flames as high as the ceiling. The disconnection she felt earlier still persisted, it almost seemed as if it was helping her with her magic. It was like the detachment from her reality and herself created the space she needed to perform well. She was not really thinking, it was like her subconscious was concentrating and she was merely guiding that concentration into action. In a way, she thought afterwards, it was as if she was being -just being- without any conscious of unconscious interference.
The next morning she went to Frigga's quarters, to request another book for Loki. The anger and confusion of the day before became very pronounced again as soon as she laid eyes on Frigga. It was very difficult to keep herself in check, but she had decided that she was not going to confront Frigga with her questions. It seemed more prudent and productive to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to know, before simply blurting something out because her emotions demanded immediate satisfaction. There was more at stake than her feelings, her job an position in the castle for example, so she was willing to wait. Even though it was hard to do so.
She brought Loki his book and his breakfast and after he had finished eating she came into his cell again to prepare for their walk to the bathroom. He was already standing, holding out his hands so she could secure the bracelets around his wrists. As always, he watched her closely. Something seemed different about her. There was a determination on her face which he had only seen once before: he had had his hands around her neck at that time. He wondered if this was the effect of the same thing that seemed to have occupied her mind the previous day. It bothered him that he had been thinking of nothing else but what could have been the matter with her since he had last seen her. What bothered him most, however, was the fact that for once he did not seem to know how to ask her about it. He had never shied away from asking impertinent questions, but for some reason he felt as if he needed to be more subtle with this particular companion.
When they entered the bathroom Sig immediately strode over to the tub to light the fire. He watched her from behind, which irritated her. It was as if his presence blocked her in her abilities, because she tried several times to conjure a flame but nothing happened. She exhaled in frustration, she had been able to light the fire underneath her own tub this morning. Why did it not work?
Loki noticed her reaction, and remembering how she had reacted the first time this had happened, he became sure that the disappointment on her face was not just because of the fire. 'What's the matter?' he asked, tentatively.
Sig looked at him, a little startled by his tone. He seemed concerned. 'You seem distraught,' he added while she tried again.
'I managed it just fine yesterday,' she mumbled, but he shook his head and walked over to her and knelt down next to her. 'You did it by hand yesterday.'
'That's not… I mean, I…'
'Is something wrong?'
She stared at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. Why should she tell him about the things that were troubling her? Why would he care? He would probably just laugh at her, maybe not to her face, but she was not expecting him to be genuinely interested in her feelings. Suddenly she was overcome again by confusion, not knowing what was real and what was not. 'I… I don't know…' she whispered, her eyes now determinedly fixed on the grate beneath the tub.
'What did you mean when you said you managed to do it yesterday?'
'I set this whole room ablaze last night,' she mumbled, still staring fixedly at the grate, as if in a trance. The images of the flames dancing all over the room, touching the ceiling as they did, swam before her eyes.
'Why?' she heard him ask, his voice distant, almost like she was in a dream.
'Because I wanted to. I wanted something to burn. I needed it.'
A spark lit up her eyes momentarily, the grate was suddenly filled with flickering flames. She hardly noticed. Her thoughts had descended to her feelings of the night before and she was once again completely detached from herself and her surroundings. It hardly registered to her that Loki had risen and helped her up to her feet as well. They looked at each other.
'I'm holding you up,' she said, suddenly realising what they had come into the bathroom for, 'I'll go outside,' and she made to leave the room, but he stopped her.
'I am certain you have plenty of other people you would rather talk to about it, but you're making it incredibly hard for me to pretend like there is nothing the matter with you,' her dark eyes met his green ones.
'We share the same fate, you and I. Except I do not know to what I have been sentenced for.'
But apart from these palpable systems within our body, the mind is still a mysterious thing. It might be possible to trace back every feeling we have to particular impulses in our brain. Every reaction we have to what we feel, and how we experience certain events, can -in fact- be linked to memories and environmental influences stored inside the brain. But what about that part of us of which we can honestly, truly, consciously -and especially unconsciously-, call "me". Are we all just systems of biological reactions, or is there some part in every living being that is unique and pure, which belongs to us and could never belong to anyone else? A part that constitutes not only our physical body, but also our ethereal body. Would this, then, be a soul?
Is this the same as the person we think we are, or want to be, or is that what we perceive as ourself through the brain?
Body, soul, ego.
Where can a distinction be made between these parts, though? And more importantly: how will we become conscious of these distinctions?
While she walked back from the kitchens to Loki's cell, Sigyn felt utterly disconnected; not only from the people she had come to view as a kind of surrogate family, but she also felt disconnected from herself. For a moment she hardly knew where she was or what she was doing or even who she was until Loki's voice lifted her out of her internal confusion. 'Did you ask Frigga for a new book?'
'What?'
'Did Frigga give you another book?'
'Oh, no… I didn't.. I forgot to go to her.'
A disappointed frown formed on his face. 'Oh. Well. Maybe you can visit her later, before she goes to bed?'
'What?'
'Is something the matter?' he asked, examining her closely. Her eyes kept darting around the room, as if she was thinking furiously.
'I… No. Nothing's the matter. I'm just a little tired, I suppose. I did not get much sleep last night.'
Although they had now established verbal contact, the actual contact was still very limited to him speaking a lot and her listening a lot. She did, on occasion, offer her opinion about certain things if he asked her but usually kept her answers short and sweet. But apart from that heated conversation in the bathroom a couple of days ago, where they had both revealed more of themselves than they might have wanted to, they had not spoken about anything personal. It was unsettling for him to see Sig display emotion, although she tried to hide it. He was not necessarily concerned about what was on her mind, but curiosity had the better of him: he could not stand being withheld information. Especially in his current circumstances, where Sig and Frigga's books were his only form of entertainment. He decided not to press her any further, he did not want to upset her any more now that they had finally started talking to one another, instead he held out his hand for the plate with his dinner. 'I'll get your book tomorrow,' she said, 'I think I need an early night's sleep.' He nodded, set the plate down on the table and when he looked back she had already left his cell.
Sig did not go to bed when she left the prison. Instead she locked herself in the bathroom in the dungeons and spent the rest of the evening conjuring up flames as high as the ceiling. The disconnection she felt earlier still persisted, it almost seemed as if it was helping her with her magic. It was like the detachment from her reality and herself created the space she needed to perform well. She was not really thinking, it was like her subconscious was concentrating and she was merely guiding that concentration into action. In a way, she thought afterwards, it was as if she was being -just being- without any conscious of unconscious interference.
The next morning she went to Frigga's quarters, to request another book for Loki. The anger and confusion of the day before became very pronounced again as soon as she laid eyes on Frigga. It was very difficult to keep herself in check, but she had decided that she was not going to confront Frigga with her questions. It seemed more prudent and productive to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to know, before simply blurting something out because her emotions demanded immediate satisfaction. There was more at stake than her feelings, her job an position in the castle for example, so she was willing to wait. Even though it was hard to do so.
She brought Loki his book and his breakfast and after he had finished eating she came into his cell again to prepare for their walk to the bathroom. He was already standing, holding out his hands so she could secure the bracelets around his wrists. As always, he watched her closely. Something seemed different about her. There was a determination on her face which he had only seen once before: he had had his hands around her neck at that time. He wondered if this was the effect of the same thing that seemed to have occupied her mind the previous day. It bothered him that he had been thinking of nothing else but what could have been the matter with her since he had last seen her. What bothered him most, however, was the fact that for once he did not seem to know how to ask her about it. He had never shied away from asking impertinent questions, but for some reason he felt as if he needed to be more subtle with this particular companion.
When they entered the bathroom Sig immediately strode over to the tub to light the fire. He watched her from behind, which irritated her. It was as if his presence blocked her in her abilities, because she tried several times to conjure a flame but nothing happened. She exhaled in frustration, she had been able to light the fire underneath her own tub this morning. Why did it not work?
Loki noticed her reaction, and remembering how she had reacted the first time this had happened, he became sure that the disappointment on her face was not just because of the fire. 'What's the matter?' he asked, tentatively.
Sig looked at him, a little startled by his tone. He seemed concerned. 'You seem distraught,' he added while she tried again.
'I managed it just fine yesterday,' she mumbled, but he shook his head and walked over to her and knelt down next to her. 'You did it by hand yesterday.'
'That's not… I mean, I…'
'Is something wrong?'
She stared at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. Why should she tell him about the things that were troubling her? Why would he care? He would probably just laugh at her, maybe not to her face, but she was not expecting him to be genuinely interested in her feelings. Suddenly she was overcome again by confusion, not knowing what was real and what was not. 'I… I don't know…' she whispered, her eyes now determinedly fixed on the grate beneath the tub.
'What did you mean when you said you managed to do it yesterday?'
'I set this whole room ablaze last night,' she mumbled, still staring fixedly at the grate, as if in a trance. The images of the flames dancing all over the room, touching the ceiling as they did, swam before her eyes.
'Why?' she heard him ask, his voice distant, almost like she was in a dream.
'Because I wanted to. I wanted something to burn. I needed it.'
A spark lit up her eyes momentarily, the grate was suddenly filled with flickering flames. She hardly noticed. Her thoughts had descended to her feelings of the night before and she was once again completely detached from herself and her surroundings. It hardly registered to her that Loki had risen and helped her up to her feet as well. They looked at each other.
'I'm holding you up,' she said, suddenly realising what they had come into the bathroom for, 'I'll go outside,' and she made to leave the room, but he stopped her.
'I am certain you have plenty of other people you would rather talk to about it, but you're making it incredibly hard for me to pretend like there is nothing the matter with you,' her dark eyes met his green ones.
'We share the same fate, you and I. Except I do not know to what I have been sentenced for.'