Ladybird -- Meta thoughts on SPN, BtVS, Angel, Carnivale (all Bad vs Good), but not really

I was reading The Ladybird by D.H. Lawrence earlier. This passage really struck me, and I was going to post the excerpt to my other journal, but then it got me thinking about Supernatural and Buffy and Angel and Carnivale--oh, any show, really, that deals with Dark and Light. So, I'm sharing:

"This is what I was taught. The true fire is invisible. Flame, and the red fire we see burning, has its back to us. It is running away from us.--Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yes."

"Well then, the yellowness of sunshine--light itself--that is only the glancing aside of the real original fire. You know that is true. There would be no light if there were no refraction, no bits of dust and stuff to turn the dark fire into visibility.--You know that's a fact.--And that being so, even the sun is dark. It is only his jacket of dust that makes him visible.--You know that too.--And the true sunbeams coming towards us flow darkly, a moving darkness of the genuine fire. The sun is dark, the sunshine flowing to us is dark. And light is only the inside-out of it all, the lining, and the yellow beams are only the turning away of the sun's directness that was coming to us.--Does that interest you at all?"

"Yes," she said dubiously.

"Well, we've got the world inside out. The true living world of fire is dark, throbbing, darker than blood. Our luminous world that we go by is only the white lining of this."

"Yes, I like that," she said.

"Well! Now listen. The same with love. This white love that we have is the same. It is only the reverse, the whited sepulchre of the true love. True love is dark, a throbbing together in darkness, like the wild-cat in the night, when the green screen opens and her eyes are on the darkness."

"No, I don't see that," she said, in a slow, clanging voice.

"You, and your beauty--that is only the inside-out of you. The real you is the wild-cat invisible in the night, with red fire perhaps coming out of its wide, dark eyes. Your beauty is your whited sepulchre."

- D.H. Lawrence, The Ladybird (1992, Penguin Books); pg 180

This hits, inspirationally, and the part about true love being "dark, a throbbing together in darkness, like the wild-cat in the night, when the green screen opens and her eyes are on the darkness," is so... raw. Kind of sexually so, and also not, but it makes me think of the "dirty" part of love that people hide. Either within themselves, from each other, behind closed doors.

And it brings up other thoughts about the inside-out of people as they wish to see themselves, or have others see them. How, really, they're secretly, and even to themselves, throbbing in darkness. Maybe not yet knowing they are, but there it is anyway.

There's this line, "Our luminous world that we go by is only the white lining of this," that makes me punch my fist into the air and mentally shout, "yes!" Because I think this is a huge emphasis for all the shows mentioned earlier. There is a world where everyday people live their everyday lives of paying bills and worrying about their kids and braces and sex--living a comfortable monotony of not. knowing. Then there is the other world--the grit and dirty truth, the opposite, of the other--and it spills out and over, though no one sees or accepts, but it's there. And those who have an undersanding, and feel it, they know it... their eyes are on it, they see it, and it's a fucking revolution when they're open to it, because there's a pulse fighting through them and even if they wanted out, there's no getting past the lies of the inside-out world. White lining.

Long sentence! It's almost 4am. I have no business writing, or even thinking, this stuff. It makes no sense.