"The Little-Big Gods..."

There are many things I want to tell you about... very much want to… for example, about the huge difference between writing some text "when you mean anyone" of those who will come and will be reading and the conversation with someone whom you trust absolutely, whom you love badly-it's-very-frightening-to-say-for-how-long and it's-frightening-to-say-how-much, that means you're spitting from "the high tower" on those who, to say again, will come by chance and will be reading from the killing curiosity... well, you know of what I'm talking about: "my new option of wasting time"... and yes, let not be writing off the site itself that should comply with whatever idea of a good source that have the ones who created it... but "what" it should never become?.. everything is very simple... stupid and meaningless... this seems so important... it seemed... in fact it's equally not easy and needless... love as strong as you can and do better than you know how... this is what can bring the sense to anything... everything else is more like presence of personal ambitions and positioning the source as creator-himself... Lord spared.... at least, I want to believe that... want you to say it turned out... or it's already starting to...

When you're growing up (or think you're growing up), you just have to become more brave... more sincere... allow yourself the wrong thoughts and statements risking to evoke a smile of one whom you're, actually, addressing your mistakes... I'm addressing all of them to you... dedicate))... and smile, if you please, my love, when I'll be writing about Quintus the things you didn't mean when you were him for a while... didn't try to put to his human personality something that I've noticed... Maybe the most important of all that has been said here are not crumbs of historical facts about gladiators' life and some particularities from Ancient Rome's codex... First of all, I left here your empathy... like one of the most wonderful qualities that allow you to change your skin in quite a magical way, each time shimmering and sparkling with newly-found scales that will make up in the next moment a different person you've created... and yes, of course... along with empathy here will stay my warm and tenderness to a guy who is actually a dense mosaic of pebbles of errors, faults, mistakes... in a word, people of a special kind who's shooting a lot and almost always beside the mark... by his inner essence – my twin brother... the twin of anyone who's trying to be honest towards something that no one needs... something that came out of "claimed" things already... to comply with something good and right that he (by mistake, of course) defined this way for himself...

And by the second secret confession I want to warn that each text is a shard of my momentary state... and you, please, give a reduction... for example, I'm Bertha – lighted up and want to strangle with the stocking Edward who hid me in a cold room draughty with a tattered mattress and a lonely chamber pot, and he wants to marry God knows who... and then the kaleidoscope tube turns, and here I am sitting in front of the screen with a lump in my throat (because of tenderness for some absolutely strange reason), listening his short and strikingly angry phrase: "Up, you cursed beast! Up!"... and melting... damn, melting... just because he's so wonderful... and this is, damn, the empathy, too... That means in whom I carelessly managed find myself in – this person is one who's feeling at that moment and then writing all of this out of keyboard (and better not to reread it, otherwise I'll never tell what I wanted to)...

Move from someone's state to another someone's state is so easy that I even don't have enough time to realize how it's happening... sometimes it's enough of just hearing how you said something about someone... Bang! And it's done... the glass pieces is changing colours... I'm going through your words to the new discovery, well, and after that everything's quiet simple... this is my absolute trust to you and absolute attention to what you did and what are you doing... very scary, no?..))

I didn't entirely got everything and not trying too hard in that direction... simply accept Quintus Dias like you... like myself... along with all that baggage that he carries behind his back like an overloaded cart with wet ammunition or damaged arrows... to have enough time to hit off the mark... and in the room where he's living always candle is lit, bed is warm and in the clam above the fire there's always a stew from whatever-it-is... like every hero of yours have...

When I'm starting to think of misfortunes and problems of Quintus I'm always longing to dive to psychoanalysis... no, you just think, how strange it sounds: the film that is watched by everyone like a bloody mess and endless "running of poor hares across the field" becoming a kind of testing grounds for using of fragments of famous theory of Carl Gustav Jung about "Personal and Collective Unconscious"... But it seems difficult to compare only at the first glance... This is Your work and Your gift did put in the story of unfortunate Roman Centurion a real drama of a man trying to comply with the other person, shape himself according to someone other's achievements and justify someone's trust and his own existence by daily forced heroism without allowing himself to relax and "to live for simply to live" not one day, not one hour, not one minute... You could have smile here and put down these words about Your Gift to tenderness of loving woman, and I would even agree with you... but alas... the first palm branch in this case belongs not to me...

"Michael brings a huge number of qualities to the role" says Producer, Robert Jones. "I mean, he's a fantastic actor as we've seen in other films like, most recently, Steve McQueen's Hunger. He brought the psychologisme to the part we never thought this way... We've been very lucky to have such an actor..."

When I'm thinking how much you did dig up in this guy to drag out from not very rich scenery material this much as it turned out in the end, how many little moments of his life you imagined, the ones that made him a person that people was able to see, and not just did see but believe that he'd doing this way because he can't do otherwise and don't want to – I begin to understand very well why I unconditionally and immediately accepted Your Jung who could easily explain to a man like Quintus why he's need so much his "good I" and suffers so much when his "I" becoming bad because it couldn't cope with the proposed circumstances...

I intentionally did put an emphasis on "Your"... Do you remember you said that Jung in different periods of his life is very different from one another... this is such a true... the one I'm talking about here he's still so light and warm... with almost the same "good I", "bad I" and "not I" that Quintus have... Helping practitioner travelling to the past and to the dreams world, not very delved into sacredness but already the one who did draw enough of valuable conclusions how the archetypes inherited from our ancestors (usually, the closest) are playing the main role in the problems we're trying to solve every day... Speaking even worse: they personally are becoming a major cause of these problems...

This is how I (gently but firmly)) approached stealthily to the Quintus' problem that's very interesting me... Father as an archetype of God... It seems, it absolutely right to exactly the opposite... Because we face Rome with its patriarchal society where Jupiter was the dominant archetype and played a major role in the psychology of men... Listening to what Quintus is addressing in his short monologues again and again, I understand that he doesn't need Idol of such a scale... Father is gradually replaced the Big God taking in the boy's heart all of the free space allotted "to follow someone else's example..."

I all the time imagine a skinny wide-eyed boy who is seriously and with trepidation listening to such a great, such an amazing Daddy telling about his heroic deeds, torments he endured until he became the one he became... about the country that allowed him to become the one he soon is seeing him now... and everything would be very good and right if this would be myths "Of Gods and Heroes", on which example have been raised the Roman boys... But Quintus did stumble upon his Father who wanted for some reason to become like a Great God Jupiter in child's soul... And he managed to do it absolutely because his main character trait, as well as the very the Thunderer God himself, was the ability to impose his will on others... Perhaps, he did it not so openly and demanding the immediate and unquestioning obedience but it was no less inexorably... In the Ancient Rome it was customary to assume that a man is becoming like Jupiter himself when he's seeking for power and social status... Quintus' father was seeking freedom first of all... After reaching it he started strengthening of his status and capital accumulation controlling the other Gladiators and personally participating in the fights for commercial purposes... It's difficult to judge how much heroic and relevant to Hero's Honour concept were methods that he was using to bring his ambitious plans to life... When you're dealing with the gladiator's fights that involve killing of people by people in the arena, killing of animals by people and on the contrary (it depends on who'll be lucky), it must be hard to present your work as a heroic occupation in the eyes of a growing boy but for achieving even this difficult goal there a lot of method, too... and is this really hard to imagine?

Little-Big Gods... Archetypes so close to us... They never told the truth about themselves... In the best case, they say part of the truth and not because they want to lie but because with the time passing by the Truth itself about Them in Their memories strangely transformed and is getting better, leaner and brighter… The times are changing – this fact can't be challenged – but something is changing little in all the times, and the means of manipulation almost remaining the same through the years...

Look, my love... Look at us... we're always have to meet someone's expectations from something... The examples are shown to us... sometimes it's the distant ancestors... sometimes it's someone a little bit closer... Who's standing almost in the same line but infinitely more perfect... Somewhere is always hiding an unattainable ideal who one day in some period of his life achieved the hazy top point, and you are recommended in less or more persistent form to not disgrace the honour, to not fail the dignity, at best, to not make a blunder... it's hard to determine at what point of life we’re starting to feel an unpleasant chill in the stomach in front of a warm and kind gaze of dear eyes looking at you with a questioning hope: you've been good enough today ?.. watch out... I believe in you... This is how quite unnoticed on our life ways can be found a log...

And this is, of course, not a penis that, by Dr. Freud's conclusion, is the root cause of all the problems of mankind because he didn't get food enough in the proper time... No... Everything is much easier... And if you don't believe me – ask Carl Gustav Jung, and he'll tell you that all of this is a crap... And that unraveling of his dream even then immediately struck him as a sheer nonsense... He was just well-mannered enough and felt too much sympathy towards Dr, Sigmund to oppose him in the time of their "just-beginning-friendship"... Our logs are not tools that made us one day... And authorities which are dragging behind us like the tails that we can't cut off...

- Today is your Birthday... I want to tell you that I love you very much... Wish you health and happiness... be worthy of your dear people and remember that you must...

I can to not continue further... Where are you, my Carl Gustav Jung... Come and help me with a light word... Heal our sick heads... and watch out, don't be late... The dark shadows are gathering somewhere out there… On the East and West... North and South... Somewhere far away in the land of hairy picts... Quintus and I are collecting our simple belongings and going out... to Gods' forgotten asshole of the world… where are swamps, cold, rain, knives, axes, death and Hell... where we should be... just because it will be more quiet there for us... because only there we can comply and justify... the light memory of the fathers who gave to us everything and a little bit more... and comply their undying glory of the people who are always doing everything as it should be done... on all the 100%...

You know, my love, why I'm calling Carl for help? Because he've always been a rebel and never been taken anything for granted...


to be continued...