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  <title>Raptazure</title>
  
  
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  <link href="http://raptazure.github.io/"/>
  <updated>2022-12-01T14:18:08.993Z</updated>
  <id>http://raptazure.github.io/</id>
  
  <author>
    <name>Raptazure</name>
    
  </author>
  
  <generator uri="https://hexo.io/">Hexo</generator>
  
  <entry>
    <title>Dorian Gray</title>
    <link href="http://raptazure.github.io/2022/12/01/dorian-gray/"/>
    <id>http://raptazure.github.io/2022/12/01/dorian-gray/</id>
    <published>2022-11-30T16:00:00.000Z</published>
    <updated>2022-12-01T14:18:08.993Z</updated>
    
    <content type="html"><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/6388b73d16f2c2beb19dec11.jpg"></p><p><em>The Picture of Dorian Gray</em> is a philosophical novel written by Irish writer Oscar Wilde. It tells us that hedonism and amorality will lead the tempted to decay and death without the intention of telling it. Oscar Wilde wrote it without any moralistic intention due to his belief in aestheticism, that art itself is useless and without any social implication. So, it is a book of uncertainty, a book elevated or deprived by interpretations of different people, a world full of possibilities and diverse lenses, just like every other great novel ever written.</p><span id="more"></span><p>The story revolves around a portrait of Dorian Gray painted by Basil, an artist infatuated with Dorian’s beauty. Through Basil, Dorian meets Lord Henry Wotton and is deeply impressed by the hedonistic worldview adopted by the aristocrats. Meaning, from then on, becomes meaningless in Dorian’s life and his only occupation becomes the pursuit of sensual pleasure and outward beauty. But here comes the problem, that beauty will eventually decay. So Dorian decides that he will sell his soul and make a deal with the devil, just like Doctor Faust. And because of this evil contract, the picture, rather than he,will age and fade. The wish is granted and Dorian pursues a life of amoral experiences while staying young and beautiful. At the same time, his portrait ages and records every sin that Dorian has committed.</p><p>Apart from the actual novel, its preface is already a masterpiece by itself. In the preface, Oscar Wilde states that “to reveal art and conceal artist is art’s aim” and “the highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography”, which are so profound for the understanding of art and literary criticism. If you think about Shakespeare’s plays, you will find it is extremely hard to know what kind of person Shakespeare is. Because every character portraited by the artist lives in his imagination and reflects some specific trait of humanity, concealing the artist himself in the world of words. And when we are trying to read a book, we are actually looking into a dynamic mirror which shows more about us than about the book or the author. That is exactly why Wilde connects criticism and autobiography in such an intimate way. This view of art and literary criticism is essential to the understanding of this novel, for it liberates us from the dogmatic belief that it is a book of decadence and decay merely because it tells a story of hedonism. By being free,  we can think deeper and look into the inmost part of our own souls.</p><p>In my opinion, this life in pursuit of sensual pleasure led by Dorian, is actually not a joyful life at all. Because it is totally devoid of meaning and only reveals its emptiness in the end, after all these fleeting passion dies away. Lasting happiness, ironically enough, is not actually something we can consciously chase after, but the by-product of some other human conducts. It is not because the expectation of joy that makes us fall in love but because we decide to love and as a result end up embracing the experience of ecstasy. Our life, is a hero’s journey, a lover’s journey, a journey which requires efforts and devotion, not some improvised funny game with the only intention of instant gratification. Just like Nietzsche said, “he who knows a why can bear any how”, human beings naturally crave for meaning, that is what makes us “human becoming” because once guided by the intricate and complex web of meaning, we are destined to embark upon so many fabulous journey full of perils and are finally able to climb up the mountain of eternal joy. This is the happiness of maturity, of becoming truly who we can become in the end.</p><p>“All art is quite useless”, Oscar Wilde concludes his preface with this sentence. But is that really so? By reflecting upon the surface and symbol of art at the same time, by looking into the mirror with our deepest heart’s core, we begin to discern the use of art, which might be unique to everyone’s experience and can never be made universal, but always manages to guide us in the fierce storms and dark nights. “The artist is the creator of beautiful things”, and we, as readers, should be artists as well.</p>]]></content>
    
    
    <summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/6388b73d16f2c2beb19dec11.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Picture of Dorian Gray&lt;/em&gt; is a philosophical novel written by Irish writer Oscar Wilde. It tells us that hedonism and amorality will lead the tempted to decay and death without the intention of telling it. Oscar Wilde wrote it without any moralistic intention due to his belief in aestheticism, that art itself is useless and without any social implication. So, it is a book of uncertainty, a book elevated or deprived by interpretations of different people, a world full of possibilities and diverse lenses, just like every other great novel ever written.&lt;/p&gt;</summary>
    
    
    
    
    <category term="Books" scheme="http://raptazure.github.io/tags/Books/"/>
    
  </entry>
  
  <entry>
    <title>The Book of Thel</title>
    <link href="http://raptazure.github.io/2022/11/28/the-book-of-thel/"/>
    <id>http://raptazure.github.io/2022/11/28/the-book-of-thel/</id>
    <published>2022-11-27T16:00:00.000Z</published>
    <updated>2022-11-28T08:25:22.405Z</updated>
    
    <content type="html"><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63846efb16f2c2beb180ff2b.jpg"></p><p><em>The Book of Thel</em> is one of the prophetic illuminated books written by William Blake, a great British poet, painter and visionary born in the 18th Century. Crafted after <em>The Song of Innocence</em>, this allegorical poem is closely related to the loss of innocence, maybe indicating the creation of <em>The Song of Experience</em> in his later years.</p><span id="more"></span><p>This poem begins with Thel, the youngest daughter of Mne Seraphim, separates herself and goes to the river. There, Thel laments about the transience of mortal life and the inevitability of death. The Lily of the valley, upon hearing her words, replies, explaining that even as weak and insignificant as she can be blessed by the almighty God and everything that lives should rejoice instead of complaining. Thel responds by listing the virtues of the Lily and compares herself to a cloud, dying without leaving a trace. So she continues to ask a little cloud about the understanding of mutability. The cloud explains that transience is born out of Love and death is beautiful, for it means the transformation into a more romantic and unified way of existence. Thel responds with a lamentation upon her uselessness, fearing her only use after death will be feeding worms. The cloud says it is also a great use because it emphasizes the interconnectedness of all forms of life. Then, the cloud asks a worm to come to Thel. But the worm cannot speak, it only cries like a feeble infant. Soon after, a clod of clay joins them and claims even the worm is still loved by the divine. Invited by the clod of clay, Thel agrees to come to the clay’s home, where the couches of the dead and the fibrous roots intertwine. Wandering through this land of sorrow and tears, she finally comes to her own grave and being asked by a mysterious voice about the perception of the five senses. Upon hearing the possible woe perceived by these sensory organs, Thel runs back to the vale with a shriek.</p><p>In <em>The Book of Thel</em>, The Vales of Har are depicted as a paradisal place which resembles the Garden of Eden. Thel wishes to enter the world of experience and leave the innocent paradise behind. However, once Thel enters into the world of experience, her heart is filled with terror upon the thought of mortality and the futility of human conductions if the final demise is inevitable. But at the same time, her escape from all these possible pain and sorrow also leads to the inability to conceive all the beautiful things in the mortal life. Sometimes, it is exactly the transient nature of things that makes them more precious, like sweet music floating in the air and gradually dying away. In other words, Thel’s fear of growing up is what keeps her from actually living. When she flees from the world of experience, she is also fleeing from the fullness of life itself. Innocence should take on a more elevated meaning, one found through suffering, through fire and frost, that Thel can never reach as long as she is gripped by the fear of opening herself up to risk. In order to truly enter the age of maturity, we must face all these fabulous perils scattered along our journey. Our life is meant to be a hero’s journey, maybe unlike that of Achilles and Odysseus, but still possesses its own style of heroism. We must slay the bad fire-breathing dragons, jump into the deep den of despair and rise up from the ruin of life all over again. Sacrifice and suffering are painful indeed, but at the same time also necessary to the completion of our Self. Passively accepting the given Innocence and Grace, may sounds like a state of extreme bliss, but are actually far less romantic than the process of elevation from the deepest pit to the highest heaven with the power of imagination. </p><p>“Fear ye not and behold the Creation of God”, a voice arises in the bottom of my heart, retelling the story of Thel.</p>]]></content>
    
    
    <summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63846efb16f2c2beb180ff2b.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Book of Thel&lt;/em&gt; is one of the prophetic illuminated books written by William Blake, a great British poet, painter and visionary born in the 18th Century. Crafted after &lt;em&gt;The Song of Innocence&lt;/em&gt;, this allegorical poem is closely related to the loss of innocence, maybe indicating the creation of &lt;em&gt;The Song of Experience&lt;/em&gt; in his later years.&lt;/p&gt;</summary>
    
    
    
    
    <category term="Books" scheme="http://raptazure.github.io/tags/Books/"/>
    
  </entry>
  
  <entry>
    <title>Death &amp; Rebirth</title>
    <link href="http://raptazure.github.io/2022/11/21/westwind/"/>
    <id>http://raptazure.github.io/2022/11/21/westwind/</id>
    <published>2022-11-20T16:00:00.000Z</published>
    <updated>2022-11-21T13:51:44.420Z</updated>
    
    <content type="html"><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/637b82e816f2c2beb1b4b985.jpg"></p><p>This year, 2022, marks the bicentenary of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s death. Over all these two hundred years, there are countless fine lines of poetry written by Shelley that have continously inspired people to rekindle the fire of hope in their hearts. But of them all, a particular line from <em>Ode to the West Wind</em> may be the most significant one, which is “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”. This single line of verse is, of course, far more than a rhetorical question concerning the change of seasons, for it is indeed, as the poet states, a divine prophecy given to those people trapped in states of despair and desolation. </p><span id="more"></span><p><em>Ode to the West Wind</em> consists of five cantos written in terza rima, which is invented by Dante Alighieri and first used in his grand epic poem <em>La Divina Commedia</em>. Apart from the inherited rhyming scheme, there might be another deeper layer of connnection between <em>The Divine Comedy</em> and this poem written by Shelley. Winter, like Dante’s Inferno, symbolizes death, while spring, the epitome of Dante’s Paradiso, symbolizes rebirth. Just like withered leaves blasted by the wild west wind are scattered all over the place to quicken a potential new burst of vitality in the upcoming spring, all those terrible sufferings Dante witnesses in Hell also lead him to a more comprehensive understanding of Life, Light and Love, granting him the vision which enables the once lost Florentine to climb up mount Purgatory and eventually reach the gate of Paradise. Both of these masterpieces produced in Italy implies a universal truth, that descent is also ascent and death actually heralds rebirth.</p><p>Shelley embraced his own death two hundred years ago, drowned sailing in a tempest, but just as the words engraved on his tombstone, which is from Shakespeare’s <em>Tempest</em> has shown to the world, “Nothing of him that doth fade, but doth suffer a sea-change, into something rich and strange”, there indeed, have risen a thousand beacons from the spark he bores. </p>]]></content>
    
    
    <summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/637b82e816f2c2beb1b4b985.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This year, 2022, marks the bicentenary of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s death. Over all these two hundred years, there are countless fine lines of poetry written by Shelley that have continously inspired people to rekindle the fire of hope in their hearts. But of them all, a particular line from &lt;em&gt;Ode to the West Wind&lt;/em&gt; may be the most significant one, which is “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”. This single line of verse is, of course, far more than a rhetorical question concerning the change of seasons, for it is indeed, as the poet states, a divine prophecy given to those people trapped in states of despair and desolation. &lt;/p&gt;</summary>
    
    
    
    
    <category term="Books" scheme="http://raptazure.github.io/tags/Books/"/>
    
  </entry>
  
  <entry>
    <title>Frankenstein</title>
    <link href="http://raptazure.github.io/2022/11/12/frankenstein/"/>
    <id>http://raptazure.github.io/2022/11/12/frankenstein/</id>
    <published>2022-11-11T16:00:00.000Z</published>
    <updated>2022-12-01T14:51:26.706Z</updated>
    
    <content type="html"><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63770c9616f2c2beb10859dc.jpg"></p><p><em>Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus</em>, which is regarded as the first true science-fiction and one of the most influential English novels ever produced, was in fact initially written for a ghost story competition upheld by Percy Shelley, Lord Byron and Mary Godwin herself on the shores of Lake Geneva. </p><span id="more"></span><p>It tells the story of Victor Frankenstein, a highly-intellectual and ambitious scientist who is obsessed with the possiblities of imparting life to non-living matter and manages to create a humanoid out of the shattered and lifeless parts of human body. Yet, this life-giving process proves to be nothing like the joyous and glorious creation tale of God but merely a herald of unbearable grief and immense sorrow. This creature, abandoned by his cruel creator, knowing nothing about the world around him, decides to embark upon a journey to seek for love and warmth, like a newly-born infant who naturally yearns for the sweet milk of life. But the road ahead is destined to be full of poisonous thorns considering his monstrous appearance. The cold scorn and harsh beating of people finally tear his wings of hope asunder and drive him down to the deepest pit of hell, where only hatred reigns. The unquenchable fire of revenge burns fiercely in his bosom. He becomes a murderer and the last victim will be his own creator. And Victor, after witnessing the horrible deeds his creation has done to his family, especially his bride Elizabeth, also decides to seek for a righteous revenge. He must make his own creation perish. The cycle of vengence thus began, which must end in a tragic way.</p><p>As readers, we cannot help but to reflect and ask: what on earth leads to the final tragedy of Frankenstein? If we try to follow the chains of complex causality and arrive at the very beginning of this creation tale, the scene of Victor maddening himself with piles of books must have reminded us of another similar figure - Doctor Faust portrayed by Goethe. Both of them are extemely intelligent and eager to know the ultimate mystery of life. With this almost overwhelming intellectual power, they decide to challenge natural order itself and become some kind of necromancer who is proud of talking to the dead. This is the sin of hubris, of eating the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden. Like Icarus riding through the firmament on his father’s chariot, or Ulysses travelling across the Mediterranean without invocation of the Gods, Victor tries to turn the inanimate into animate things, to make sentient beings out of decaying bones and flesh, thus befitting the name of “creator”. So, His upcoming miseries can be regarded as a kind of repairing work done by the natural order and the penalties for trespassing the divine principles in nature. </p><p>Another important cause for the ultimate tragedy is the lack of love between creation and creator. The so called monster is nothing but a deserted child, helplessly howling for the warmth of care and love. He is a mirror of the other people’s actions and his lived experience makes himself drown in the burning furnace of hell. What he can perceive from the world around is merely hostility and hatred towards him, even from his own creator, as if he was the arch enemy of the whole universe, the infamy fallen angel Satan. No wonder he feels so sympathetic when reading Paradise Lost, for he, now already fallen from the innocence of Eden, has lost all the gentle protection of his creator. He ends up holding Hell inside his aching bosom, like Milton’s Satan, thus committing all those horrible crimes. It is so true that mutual hatred builds Hell within and Love elevates the soul to the gate of Heaven. </p><p>The tale of Frankenstein speaks of two angels fallen from grace - Victor and his creation. Upon the barren crags of the fallen world, nothing but bleak coldness remains, sans heat, sans light. So, what is the real meaning of Creation? It is not  meant to be a mechanical process which can be imitated with scientific methods but an interwoven web of Love and Meaning which is so intricate and mysterious that we human beings may never attempt to make but can always appreciate with ecstasy.</p>]]></content>
    
    
    <summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63770c9616f2c2beb10859dc.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus&lt;/em&gt;, which is regarded as the first true science-fiction and one of the most influential English novels ever produced, was in fact initially written for a ghost story competition upheld by Percy Shelley, Lord Byron and Mary Godwin herself on the shores of Lake Geneva. &lt;/p&gt;</summary>
    
    
    
    
    <category term="Books" scheme="http://raptazure.github.io/tags/Books/"/>
    
  </entry>
  
  <entry>
    <title>Reflection</title>
    <link href="http://raptazure.github.io/2022/02/07/reflection/"/>
    <id>http://raptazure.github.io/2022/02/07/reflection/</id>
    <published>2022-02-06T16:00:00.000Z</published>
    <updated>2022-11-18T04:35:34.544Z</updated>
    
    <content type="html"><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63770acd16f2c2beb1054414.jpg"></p><p>At first, he thought he was in love with Haskell, for he could program in it every day without feeling bored. But later, some dark currents flowing under the seemingly blissful moments began to invade his senses, unfothomable fear of losing his authentic Self floating on the lake of the Heart, mocking at his conformity and self-deception. At the same time, a strong force was pulling him unto a different state of being, and this force was not coming from the outer world but always running in his own veins, waiting their voices finally to be heard. This is a yearning towards Beauty thus Eternity, and ultimately Freedom. </p><span id="more"></span><p>He began to remember why he fell in love with Haskell in the first place. It was not beacause of its efficency or practicality (if this programming language really possesses such qualities), but its elegance and those ideas behind such subtle constructions. And he actually found it kind of pitable that people nowadays were worshiping a newly-born god called technology more than any other eras before. In his eyes, this “god” represents for the modern progeny of Urizen, thus knowing best about how to bring more probable slavery into this world. </p><p>After realizing his misplaced passion towards this modren god, the imprisonment of souls brought by it, and the fetters built upon the so called selected “career path”, he decided to leave for once and for all. And this was the begining of his rebellion. </p><p>“Be a poet or nothing at all”, he murmured to himself, but the echoes made inside his soul were more formidable than the rolling stones, declaring the war against any form of oppression and depression, reclaiming the path towards liberty and love.</p><p>Thus began his journey.</p><p>The story slowly unfolds.</p>]]></content>
    
    
    <summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63770acd16f2c2beb1054414.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At first, he thought he was in love with Haskell, for he could program in it every day without feeling bored. But later, some dark currents flowing under the seemingly blissful moments began to invade his senses, unfothomable fear of losing his authentic Self floating on the lake of the Heart, mocking at his conformity and self-deception. At the same time, a strong force was pulling him unto a different state of being, and this force was not coming from the outer world but always running in his own veins, waiting their voices finally to be heard. This is a yearning towards Beauty thus Eternity, and ultimately Freedom. &lt;/p&gt;</summary>
    
    
    
    
    <category term="Consciousness" scheme="http://raptazure.github.io/tags/Consciousness/"/>
    
  </entry>
  
  <entry>
    <title>Luminescence</title>
    <link href="http://raptazure.github.io/2021/06/27/luminescence/"/>
    <id>http://raptazure.github.io/2021/06/27/luminescence/</id>
    <published>2021-06-26T16:00:00.000Z</published>
    <updated>2022-11-18T04:35:47.746Z</updated>
    
    <content type="html"><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63770bf816f2c2beb1072f60.png"></p><p>Because of insomnia, I woke up late, without out any energy. Noticed that it was already 7:49, I hurried to school and was grasping for breath desperately after my arrival, only to find my blurred vision of everything around me - I forget to bring my glasses! Wondering why people’s mind is so delicate that it needs to be recharged everyday to keep one’s sanity, if so called “sanity” really exists,  I began to prepare for the lessons. </p><span id="more"></span><p>While I was trying to find some books, I noticed there was a round, yellow little thing in front of me and my thoughts were dragged into it strangely. Because of the blurred reality, I had no idea what it was. But according to Arthur Schopenhauer, the world of objects in space and time exists solely as representation dependent on a cognizing subject, not as a world that can be considered to exist in itself. One’s knowledge of objects is thus knowledge of mere phenomena rather than things-in-themselves. “What is the phenomena of this round yellow little thing in front of me then?”, I whispered to myself and decided to find out the “truth”.</p><p>Round and yellow, it was perhaps the condensed setting sun behind “the sower”, which was painted by Van Gogh at Arles in 1888. The classroom was just like the field, and the teacher was the sower. While the sun was shining with an unearthly luminescence, as the preacher of knowledge, the sower was walking around the field with great patience and hope, endeavoring to convey messages from the sun to earth. Only sunlight was poured up, and the hand of the sower was pointing down. At the same time the seeds fell into the soil, and then germinated, new plants would appear. These plants then began to dream about being a sower and thus the messenger of the sun to earth. New beliefs were running upon the half-empty field, telling a fairy tale about pure wisdom and infinity, which was merely a reflection of the life continuous process of the revival of nature though.</p><p>But when night falls, what would the sun want to be then? Maybe a twinkle star in the starry night. Van Gogh was always in love with the vast peace and majesty of the night sky and once wrote, “The sight of the stars always makes me dream”. This time, the classroom was like the still town, emphasizing the dramatic action everywhere else. The hills were rolling. The cypresses flickered like flames. The sky flooded with soft swirls. The twinkle star was shedding gentle light, which began to form a bridge between the earth and heaven. All of this made me dream. I could feel that the everlasting energy of imagination and creation is flowing over me, setting me in a state of peace and serenity.</p><p>However, was that the truth I want? The separation line bewteen my consciousness and reality escaped nowhere. It seemed like the yellow round thing only lived in the representation of my will. While I was thinking about it, the bell rang and forced to drag me back to the so called reality. I stood up and walked to the round thing, only to find that it was a bottle cap, standing on the desk. “Well, this time, perhaps it should be the door watcher of the liquor of the esoteric doctrines then.” I whispered to myself and smiled in relief.</p>]]></content>
    
    
    <summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src=&quot;https://pic.imgdb.cn/item/63770bf816f2c2beb1072f60.png&quot;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Because of insomnia, I woke up late, without out any energy. Noticed that it was already 7:49, I hurried to school and was grasping for breath desperately after my arrival, only to find my blurred vision of everything around me - I forget to bring my glasses! Wondering why people’s mind is so delicate that it needs to be recharged everyday to keep one’s sanity, if so called “sanity” really exists,  I began to prepare for the lessons. &lt;/p&gt;</summary>
    
    
    
    
    <category term="Consciousness" scheme="http://raptazure.github.io/tags/Consciousness/"/>
    
  </entry>
  
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