Holmes

My favorite fiction character of all time. And the subject of most of my college essays. Blast from the past. For me.

Describe a character in fiction, a historical figure, or a creative work (as in art, music, science, etc.) that has had an influence on you, and explain that influence. (Min 250 Words)

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't know.”
-The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

Thus spoke Arthur Conan Doyle’s brilliant, multi-faceted Sherlock Holmes. I have gained a lot of enjoyment from innumerous hours spent reading Sherlock Holmes, but have learned a lot from his character as well. Though this man only lives on paper, his persona and the ideals he stands for deeply inspire me.

Holmes, the famed detective, is famous for solving countless fictional mysteries, uprooting hundreds of criminals on the way. Along with his lovable sidekick Dr. Watson, Holmes conducts investigations all across Europe, some of which have consequences of international significance. Yet, Holmes refrains from pursuing personal glory or illustrious clients and remains committed to the game for the sake of it alone.

I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To the logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate one's self is as much a departure from truth as to exaggerate one's own powers.
-The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter

Indeed, Holmes wields an astounding array of ‘powers’, and is quite candid about them. He possesses a fine faculty of observation, and an extremely articulate deductive ability. He observes minutiae that all others miss, or have only ‘noticed’. He uses his vast knowledge base very frequently to connect the dots. He is a master of all sorts of disguises. Holmes’ ‘methods’ are undoubtedly scientific. He deals with hard facts, creates hypotheses and efficiently proceeds to test them.

It was as a child that I first came across ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’, and unconsciously started to try and think like him. Holmes’ was my first introduction to the scientific method, long before I entered school. I even find Holmes’ ideals of logic extremely useful and resonant in my own chosen field of Computer Science. I realize that the deductive and organized approach of his is essential in my ambition of a technical career, or rather, in any strait of life. Coming from an academic family, I admire the practical perspective that Holmes creates so well. Inspired by Holmes, I try and inculcate as much practicality and reasoning into my actions as I can. Holmes’ rational mindset is relevant in all wakes of life today and I cite him as an important influence in developing my own at an early age.

“To the man who loves art for its own sake, it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived.”
-The Adventure of the Copper Breeches

Holmes is an artist of the highest order, concentrating only on the challenges posed during investigations. He ignores the glamorous aspects of his profession and often leaves public recognition to the members of the official police force. He maintains a wide range of pursuits, ranging from practicing amateur chemistry to playing the violin to training in the martial arts. His only interests are mental stimulation and the pursuit of absolute perfection. This feature of Holmes is one part of my ‘image of perfection’. I find that I am at my best when I apply myself completely to the task at hand, and when I focus on mastering every nuance I come by. Swayed partly by Holmes’ versatility, I chart my own course to become an ‘all-rounder’. I read voraciously, practice hard on my guitar, and profess a competitive spirit to be good at in whatever I do. I may not attain the unreal standards that Holmes does, but I am inspired to try to nevertheless.

There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation…
-The Adventure of the Copper Breeches.

Leading all of Sherlock Holmes’ innumerable talents is a strong set of moral values. He comes across many ethical dilemmas in his investigations, which he counters with a lot of aplomb and grace. From this I learn a very important lesson. No matter how high your status, how many talents you possess, your entire work is meaningless if done without a sound moral compass.

This creation of A.C. Doyle is fantastic, to say the least. Maybe it is easy to learn from an entity that you admire, like and look up to; maybe Sherlock Holmes’ parallels just come naturally to me. All the same, I can say without doubt that he has greatly influenced me, and that I have benefited greatly from this association.

Inspired Feather

Ballerina, threaded gray, white and a hint of orange.
Her backbone twirls her form.
No gale of nature lessens her grace, merely adds to it.
She... sits in a time and space in motion
of contours that gravity contrasts with.

Merely dropped from a child's hand,
the earth pulls her closer, closer,
this inspired heather, falling lonely,
at the end of her song and flight.

She lies, fluttering on the floor, rippling so,
waiting for the next breath of air to give her song.

Runner

"Keep counting. Keep counting..." Nine beads of sweat on his face. Two strands of muscles in his right thigh screaming, and who would scream at him even more tomorrow.

"... breaths". Everything ceased to exist then... except a beat going on when all begged it to stop. He could feel his eyes see the road ahead, showing a fast approaching silhouette of another runner about to be crossed. But he didn't know that. Right then, he lived on a rhythm fueled by oxygen and that sharp, sharp fix that he got from it's near absence. Hours of training in minimizing his motions befan to pay off in letting him sustain his speed. The human body does have limits, but his was a story in retelling all of them. No more ankles, no more sweat, just a life pumped beat.

Writer's Block

... ... ... .. .

Celestial Celebration

Me and a friend were walking down the University of Washington campus, and it looked like (with the statue of George Washington silhoutted) that we were going to have a pink sunset. Both of us slowed down a little to catch a little more of the sight, but then I saw something that really made me pause.

There was a huge crescent moon in the pink/orang-ing light. It was larger than any moon that I'd thought of ever seeing - and I stopped walking and pointed it out to my friend. She stared at it a while, and then commented that it was moving down. My mind refused to allow for the fact that we were witnessing a partial eclipse, and began asking me why (on earth??) would the moon ever be moving down. And then it (light(n)ing?) struck - that really was the sun??

For the next five minutes I stood by the bridge that would help me cross the main road - making sure that it was really disappearing out of sight, and when the weird crescent sun did drop, I remember feeling pretty tripped out.

That night also happened to be the night the Perseid meteor shower was set to rock the Seattle skies. Summertime in Seattle is really beautiful and (usually) extremely clear. Perfect meteor shower conditions.

I was in car that drove out away from the city, the maddening lights and the maddening crowd, and remember getting more and more excited to actually see a meteor shower for the first time in my life.

I got out of the car, and for the first time in three years, really saw stars the way they're supposed to be seen. The city lights are brutal in flushing out the minute detail of the constellations above, and one forgets how the wonder-center of the brain can be attacked just by looking and thinking about a dark, star lit sky.

All this in three seconds out of the car; no one else had been out - and I still hadn't seen a meteor. And then one struck right across my sight - easily the largest, smoothest one I would see that night. I could tell that I was the only person in our group that saw it.

It was perfect, one streak with impeccable timing from above, a sign that just aligned itself to be just that - I sign for whatever I could wish upon it.

It's mine to be amazed about.

Surrender

Listen, all that's happened is that the cloud has cleared,
when success whispers in your ear,
and oxygen deprived though you may be, see,
that 'thas only done for you to pray,
skyward,
for the sky to clear to show behemoth peaks far away.

Too loud a laugh will bring down an,
avalanche, off slopes you've blindly kissed, dismissed,
so steady, look past the mist, past the past,
and leap to glory, again, at last.

Befriend your humility, refriend your hunger,
that has hustled you thus far in the
best of kinship, and know,
your peak is narrow, sharp.

Surrender to your newfound strength, not to your glory,
claim your peaceful, unchanged joy, slowly,
your story is long, your road is long,
you will die in the fight, may your endeavor live on.

The Liquid Dance

Gone gone gone. Back 'gain, so solid, so smooth, such a wall -
disappearing act, so omni-directional. Where? When? How?

Their steps cheated mischief, cheated space -
as it tried to close about them,
fought fire, burned mercury,
stopped. And again.

Melodic sprung from dance sprung from earth sprung all about,
as two, lithe, able, Hermetic conscience thieves,
danced on a wooden floor, and never looked down.

Sound Games

Silent force, drives through,
teach me, construe,
my dreams, over,
in stars, sylvan.

Sound games, are not,
games but, rites of,
soul sport, only,
blue days, pure say.

Soft notes, understood,
be there, be square,
don't block, let go,
on sight, on light.

I see, me free,
sleeping, soundly,
these games, are sound,
my sky, is found.

These days, shiver,
beauty, fully,
my mind, rivers,
through all, truly.

Be there, be square,
sound off, sound off,
I'm here, waiting,
reach me, truly.

The One Rule

The Lord looked down,
in his hand he held the one rule,
was it life? Was it naught?

He dropped down the rule as a morsel of food,
into a voided mouth, an empty brood,
and it broke into so many little pieces.

It scattered, shattered, smashed, chinked,
some by two by two by two by some,
and now look at what the void's become.

Science, economics, love and hate,
and our unguided questions about our fate,
to accumulate our pyramid to the top pinnacle.

Do we try to piece broken shards of glass together, forever to grow?
and then, once one, look and see,
that it was not to know,
but just to be?

Nightingale

Hello Florence,

How many times have I heard your voice, and wished I knew what you looked like?

Your footsteps have come to mean as much to me,
as your soothing hands over my bandaged eyes,
T'has been given a glimmer of hope, you see,
the sightless life that another man might despise.

The war has entrenched me to your care,
in the middle of shelling and retreat,
with carefree violence, shouts, and death to spare,
crowding about your stockinged feet.

I hope that I will live to see the day,
if not my eyes, then my breath at least,
and pray to thank you far away,
from the clutches of this hypocritical beast.

I do wish I knew what you look like,
and my wishes will forever come true,
for your being will be imprinted in mine,
mine heart, mine breaths, the remaining few.

DoppleGanger

I was walking on the street,
playing safe, step by step,
my eyes caught. I stopped, that was me, not quite.

Hearing records, I heard my voice, almost,
seeing a smile, I saw myself, almost.

These appearances randomly pop in and out,
making me feel that there's one part of me I'm without,
the time comes and again to seize the good lord's energy that is me,
and engrave myself, for my dopplegangers to see.

My Recurse

I sit down, thinking hard at my desk,
my, world seems to be watched over by someone else,
my, breathing deep and heavy, seems to echo,
and I sit to think of a boy sitting at a desk, thinking hard...

Its like a mirrors all around me, are actually glass,
can I transcend into, myself? Just let it pass...