Act 1 scene iii shows us again Cleopatra playing on the emotion of Antony. As Rome is under a civil war, Antony has intentions to go back. As well as with the death of Fulvia, he has matters of the state to attend to. The Queen goads at him with questions of sacred vials, and asks if his professions of love to her were the same he spoke to his wife. Even feigning fainting, she strikes at his soul. It brings the question to mind of how does Antony receive her words? Is he so in love with her that he accepts the harsh criticisms of his actions? Or does he believe that they are playful? Or perhaps even believes her to be sincerely hurt? Probably not the last, as anger does arise in him and he expresses it by telling her "You'll heat my blood. No more."
How often do we in our own lives accept things we want them to be, instead of what they are? Anger stems from us seeing the potential in a situation or a person, and it/they not living up to it. We are emotional creatures, and often times react on those emotions. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for not. As we continue to explore Antony, we see he reacts out of emotion more and more. I have to be careful not to admire the passion in him, as it reflects my own life. My own awareness of that however, has lead me to be overly analytical and sometimes too calculated. Earlier in my youth, I had done many things out of "the moment" and what I felt at that time. Regardless of the outcome, never a healthy lifestyle. Now, having experienced extreme lows as consequences for my youthly choices, I find myself at the extreme. Weighing the options of cream in my coffee or no cream ad nauseum, I sometimes find my coffee cold when I decide...Antony, however, a soldier, has been trained not to spend time weighing out options to react. For if too much time is spent, lives could be lost. His own, even. I need to learn the balance of the two. My constant joke is I'm a Gemini, so polar opposites I must be and have no choice in the matter. Either I add cream instantly, or I let my coffee grow cold with indecisiveness.
Shakespeare yet again provides me with a window to my past, and a door to my future.
No comments:
Post a Comment