#aimless philosophical wanderings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boredtechnologist · 5 months

Text

"Beavis and Butt-Head" for the SNES, adapted from the popular MTV animated series, captures the misadventures of its titular characters, Beavis and Butt-Head, as they navigate their mundane suburban existence. This video game, much like the show, subtly critiques consumer culture, the banality of modern life, and the search for meaning within it. Through the philosophical lenses of Albert Camus's Absurdism, Jean Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation, Guy Debord's Society of the Spectacle, and Friedrich Nietzsche’s Nihilism, we can delve into a profound examination of the game.

1. Camus and the Absurd: Albert Camus’s philosophy of the absurd explores the conflict between humans' desire to find inherent value in life and the universe’s cold indifference. Beavis and Butt-Head's endless, often mindless pursuit of things like concert tickets echoes the absurd hero’s struggle. Their relentless quest in the face of repetitive, mundane tasks mirrors the absurd condition; they persist in their endeavors, deriving meaning from inherently meaningless pursuits. The game, by exaggerating these themes, highlights the existential comedy of their situation.

2. Baudrillard and Hyperreality: Jean Baudrillard’s concept of hyperreality, where the distinction between reality and the simulated copy blurs, is apt for analyzing "Beavis and Butt-Head." The game, a simulation of a TV show that satirizes the vapidity of consumerist culture, itself becomes a form of hyperreality. Players engage with Beavis and Butt-Head not as characters in their authentic reality but as hyperreal icons within a simulated environment that is 'more real than real' — a pixelated microcosm of their TV antics, further distorting the line between the characters' reality and their representation.

3. Debord and the Spectacle: Guy Debord’s theory of the spectacle, which suggests that modern society has replaced all direct experiences with mere representations, is another critical lens through which the game can be viewed. In "Beavis and Butt-Head," everything is mediated through the spectacle of the television set—the source of the characters’ cultural knowledge and motivations. The game enhances this spectacle, making the players active participants in the mediated experiences that drive the characters' lives. It reflects Debord’s idea that the spectacle subsumes and sells back life experiences after dressing them in commodification's guise.

4. Nietzsche and Nihilism: Friedrich Nietzsche’s exploration of nihilism, particularly the idea that traditional values (like moral or religious norms) have lost their power in the lives of individuals, provides a dark backdrop to the game’s ethos. Beavis and Butt-Head’s often amoral, aimless wandering through life, driven by base needs and simplistic desires, epitomizes Nietzsche’s diagnosis of modernity’s nihilistic trajectory. Their world is devoid of deeper moral structures; instead, it revolves around immediate gratification and the pursuit of trivial pleasures.

In sum, "Beavis and Butt-Head" for the SNES is not just a trivial pursuit of two culturally inept teenagers; it is a profound commentary on the existential, hyperreal, and spectacular nature of contemporary life. Through Camus, Baudrillard, Debord, and Nietzsche, we see how the game reflects the philosophical complexities of finding meaning in a postmodern world dominated by simulacra, spectacle, and a pervasive sense of nihilism. The characters' absurd quests and their interactions with the world offer a mirror to the player's own engagements with reality, challenging us to question the authenticity and value of our pursuits in a digitally mediated landscape.

#beavis and butthead #SNES #Retro #Gaming #Pixel Crisis

7 notes · View notes

soundofseclusion · 5 months

Text

13. Harold Halibut

Release: 2024, PC/PS5/Xbox Series Beaten: May 1st, Xbox Series S (Game Pass) Playtime: 13h 20m

This'll be a long one.

As I write this, I last played Harold Halibut three days ago. I'm still finding my mind wandering to the game's beautiful set design, poignant scenes, and unique characters. The game advertises itself with a slogan to the effect of "a hand-crafted adventure," and I think that does come across by how meticulously put-together everything is. Clear consideration was put into just about every element, which I say even while believing that some beats fell flat, that it didn't always follow through with its own messages, and that the game is not always very well-constructed from a technical standpoint. Still, I think that they made something they were wholly proud of.

The game itself is slow. It's dull. But I never felt like dropping it. Sometimes I found myself wondering why Harold was being forced to move at walking speed across an environment, following a character with zero dialogue to accompany the trek. But usually I found myself not minding the fact that there isn't much to it. You're not really solving puzzles, well, ever. You're doing a lot of back and forth around a station which will sometimes make you do two warps just to get to a place that could have taken one. In between menial tasks, I found myself often navigating to areas to see if there were new interactions, and about half the time I was rewarded for that curiosity, which made the other half the time more frustrating. But, again, I didn't feel discouraged. I didn't feel, necessarily, like my time was being wasted.

And I believe there's a definite reason for that. In my opinion, it makes narrative sense that everything is so slow. It makes sense that you're tasked with doing simple things and plodding from one area to the next. Harold Halibut (the game) wants to push the fact that Harold Halibut (the character) doesn't do things for himself. He lives in service of others, following orders or just making it aimlessly through the day. And when he interacts with people, it's an effort. An effort often in vain, one that might result in him being mocked or made a fool. But also an effort that often uplifts both parties, that changes someone's direction, that provides purpose to a group of people who feel mostly aimless.

So when Harold Halibut (the guy) does something for himself, when he expresses philosophical thought or makes genuine connection with others, when he gets sad or angry or fucks up immeasurably and feels remorse, it means so much more. Because you've been Harold. You've seen his aimlessness and his passiveness and you've seen the abuse he suffers just for being a bit odd. You've experienced the exasperating nature of just putting yourself out there, and you've been rewarded and punished for it in kind. You've done exactly what you thought you were supposed to and still screwed it up.

This is a story about finding your way. About connecting against all odds. About love, but not really, and about humanity, but not really that either. About living a life primarily in service of others, feeling like you never reach your potential, if you even have any idea what your "potential" might be. And about coming to terms with that life and accepting it. Or maybe even about finding what it is you are meant for, and accepting that despite how fucking hard it is, and how much wasted effort you'll have to cope with once you've found it, and how nothing will ever be the same or ever feel easy again.

It's about living in the moments of aimlessness, knowing that there will eventually be moments of purpose. And about being okay with both.

#MT24 May #media thread #media thread 2024 #2024 games #games writing

3 notes · View notes

mademoiselle-red · 1 year

Text

Ten Books to Know Me

Rules: 10 books for people to get to know you better, or that you just really like.

Thanks to @phantomato for tagging me!

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott This one is a childhood favorite. As a child, I identified the most with Amy March’s desire to live a leisurely life filled with art and material comforts. I ended up more like the intellectual and rebellious Jo (for a while) but could never commit to real rebellion or serious commitment to a career in the humanities, because it doesn’t pay well in this day and age. I decided I’d rather dabble in intellectual and artistic pursuits from a place of material comfort, much like Amy March after her Grand Tour of Europe. Emma by Jane Austen I read this in middle school and found Emma extremely entertaining. This is a comfort read for me. Claymore (manga) by Norihiro Yagi I love art style of this comic, the way the artist draws bodies, the lesbian undertones, and the incredibly charismatic characters. Northern Lights by Philip Pullman (first book of the His Dark Materials trilogy) At the heart of the novel is a critique of organized religion and dogma as controlling and oppressive forces suppressing knowledge and free will. This book gave me a language, as a high schooler, to understand my own aversion the way institutions like school and religion police and shame teenage girls as we come into knowledge of ourselves as sexual beings. It reframes the loss of innocence as an empowering experience, as being handed the keys to one’s own house. Other Selves: Philosophers on Friendship (anthology) edited by Michael Pakaluk An anthology of writings by philosophers throughout the ages on the topic of friendship. Montagne’s essay On Friendship is my favorite. I did quite a bit of (obsessive) research on the topic over the course of my undergrad studies and wrote my undergrad dissertation on depictions of romantic friendship in contemporary German literature. Sommerhaus, Spaeter (Summerhouse, Later) by Judith Hermann An anthology of wistful short stories based on the author’s experience in the milieu of young artists and intelligentsia living untethered, aimless lives, drifting through tentative friendships and romantic connections in and out of Berlin in the two decades after the fall of the Berlin Wall. I found it very relatable to my own experience of Berlin in the early 2010s. I was the same age as the protagonists of those stories, new in the city, half-heartedly pursuing a career in academia, wandering in and out of friend groups and various “scenes”, living with a sense of being constantly in flux.

Poems (an anthology) by Bai Juyi

9th century (Late Tang Dynasty) Chinese poet. I like his use of simple vernacular language, his storytelling, his ability to romanticize mundane details, his aesthetic descriptions of food, the seasons, and leisurely activities, his endearing and idiosyncratic love poems to various friends and lovers. Imagined Communities by Benedict Anderson A work of political theory exploring the concept of nationalism and the historical and cultural factors that contribute to the emergence of national identities. This book had a profound impact on my worldview.

The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie

A magical realist novel in which reality is literally shaped by competing narratives, leading to struggles between rival storytellers to tell the most compelling story so that their version of reality becomes “real”. This idea has influenced the way I approach writing fan fiction as telling a story to bring my interpretation of “canon” into reality (and sometimes launching a little rebellion against the Word-of-God in the process). On a related note: I wrote a master’s thesis about the depiction of imagined communities in this novel and other contemporary British and German fiction. What can I say? I tend to write long papers analyzing my favorite books, as those of you who follow me because of The Charioteer would know 😅

The Charioteer by Mary Renault Currently obsessed with it. Takes place in Britain during World War Two. The two protagonists are complex and fascinating. I find their love story deeply romantic and moving. The depiction of the small queer community is quite entertaining and endearing. The novels explores a lot of the philosophical questions that I’d obsessed over in uni so I had lots of fun revisiting those topics and reflecting on how my interpretations and views have and haven’t changed.

#book recs

10 notes · View notes

movedtoferinehuntress · 1 year

Text

☾ * ―― 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

REBEL | STRAIGHT-SHOOTER | NON-CONFORMIST ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀsɪᴀʟ ; ᴀ ᴍᴀᴠᴇʀɪᴄᴋ

You embody "zero fucks" without even trying.

Being able to take risks, share unpopular opinions, and lean into what makes you controversial allows you to very easily disrupt the status quo flying around in the mainstream. You aren't shocking or polarizing because you think it'll get you noticed, you just happen to be comfortable exposing what isn't working and reframing it in your own damn way.

YOUR STATE OF MIND .o. Raw, Free-thinking, Disruptive, Gritty, Rebellious, Non-conforming, Defiant, Independent

TURN OFFS .o. Being Silenced, Being Fake, Power Trips, Close-minded

YOUR VOICE AND VIBE .o. Candid, Straight-Shooting, Bold, Polarizing, Controversial, Anti-Mainstream, Defiant, Unapologetic

Feelings: Righteous, Inspired, Liberated Mood: Defiant, Spicy, Free-Thinking Lifestyle: Autonomy, Counter-Culture, Change-Maker

ADVENTURER | WANDERER | INDIVIDUALIST ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪʀɪɴɢ ᴏғ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ; ᴀ sᴇᴇᴋᴇʀ

You embody "establishment-free" without even trying.

Experiencing everything life has to offer makes you naturally open-minded and genuinely accepting of people's differences. You don't push boundaries in the name of self-discover because you you're wandering aimlessly, you do it because you believe adventure is a means to enlightenment.

YOUR STATE OF MIND .o. Independent, Non-conforming, Open-minded, Authentic, Ambitious, Energetic, Natural, Grounded, Self-sufficient

TURN OFFS .o. The "Establishment", Rules, Conformity, Alienation, Stagnation, Limitations

YOUR VOICE AND VIBE .o. Curious, Enthusiastic, Daring, Resourceful, Adventurous, Inquisitive

Feelings: Liberated, Enlightened, Unique Mood: Nature-Based, Spirited, Expressive Lifestyle: One With Nature, Free From "The Establishment", Aimless Wanderer

THINKER | RESEARCHER | TEACHER ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ; ᴀ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ

You embody "wise beyond words" without even trying.

Being comfortable using objective + factual scientific findings allows you to challenge people to think about old problems in new ways. You don't analyze patterns, numbers, and data to find solutions because you're stuck in analysis paralysis, you do it because you love life-long learning and prefer to lead with research + data over feelings + emotions

YOUR STATE OF MIND .o. Critical-thinking, Intelligent, Philosophical, Knowledgeable, Data-driven, Academic, Reassuring, Esoteric

TURN OFFS .o. Ambiguity, Misinformation, Ignorance, Superficiality, Status Quo, Gimmicks

YOUR VOICE AND VIBE .o. Deep, Analytical, Factual, Researched, Humanist, Trustworthy, Wise, Decisive, Scholarly

Feelings: Prepared, Highly Conscious, Brilliant Mood: Controlled, Articulate, Authoritative Lifestyle: Life-Long Learner, Professional, Truth Seeker

#[muse] caitlyn — headcanons.#this was just suppose to be a game #but #I decided to make it pretty #the quiz gives you the top three #these are caitlyn's #and I love how almost all of them are like 'fuck the establishment'#just a non-conformist XD

3 notes · View notes

ferinehuntressmoved · 11 months

Text

☾ * ― 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

REBEL | STRAIGHT-SHOOTER | NON-CONFORMIST 　　　　ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀsɪᴀʟ ; ᴀ ᴍᴀᴠᴇʀɪᴄᴋ

You embody "zero fucks" without even trying.

YOUR STATE OF MIND .o. Raw, Free-thinking, Disruptive, Gritty, Rebellious, Non-conforming, Defiant, Independent

TURN OFFS .o. Being Silenced, Being Fake, Power Trips, Close-minded

YOUR VOICE AND VIBE .o. Candid, Straight-Shooting, Bold, Polarizing, Controversial, Anti-Mainstream, Defiant, Unapologetic

Feelings: Righteous, Inspired, Liberated Mood: Defiant, Spicy, Free-Thinking Lifestyle: Autonomy, Counter-Culture, Change-Maker

ADVENTURER | WANDERER | INDIVIDUALIST 　　　　ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪʀɪɴɢ ᴏғ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ; ᴀ sᴇᴇᴋᴇʀ

You embody "establishment-free" without even trying.

YOUR STATE OF MIND .o. Independent, Non-conforming, Open-minded, Authentic, Ambitious, Energetic, Natural, Grounded, Self-sufficient

TURN OFFS .o. The "Establishment", Rules, Conformity, Alienation, Stagnation, Limitations

YOUR VOICE AND VIBE .o. Curious, Enthusiastic, Daring, Resourceful, Adventurous, Inquisitive

Feelings: Liberated, Enlightened, Unique Mood: Nature-Based, Spirited, Expressive Lifestyle: One With Nature, Free From "The Establishment", Aimless Wanderer

THINKER | RESEARCHER | TEACHER 　　　　ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ; ᴀ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ

You embody "wise beyond words" without even trying.

YOUR STATE OF MIND .o. Critical-thinking, Intelligent, Philosophical, Knowledgeable, Data-driven, Academic, Reassuring, Esoteric

TURN OFFS .o. Ambiguity, Misinformation, Ignorance, Superficiality, Status Quo, Gimmicks

YOUR VOICE AND VIBE .o. Deep, Analytical, Factual, Researched, Humanist, Trustworthy, Wise, Decisive, Scholarly

Feelings: Prepared, Highly Conscious, Brilliant Mood: Controlled, Articulate, Authoritative Lifestyle: Life-Long Learner, Professional, Truth Seeker

#headcanons — we will make a new plan ; we have to try .

0 notes

jamesgalgano · 1 year

Text

philosophical malpractice ?!

Philosophical malpractice By james a. galgano

You can’t live your life upon uncomfortable probing hands of thumbs While criticizing less fortunate living life upon unbowed knees Hoping to appeal to the downtrodden so quickly succumbed. By the repository of profound vernacular whose aim is to please Every aimless hope wandering among the desert of forlorn life. Where sand is often blown into faces unable to see past today Such clothe one is unable to wear is cut by blind tailor’s knife. It fits no memorable occasion by baptism, wedding or funeral frayed. Such provoked dismay often is left to its own devices by some afterlife. Upon whose open corpse sorrow tearing eyes focus is soon betrayed By miscalculation is drawn and quartered racing in every direction impolite Hoping to find some comforting solace where dismay impatiently awaits sun. Whose morning reveals no more than the shadows never seen by each night. Yet nevertheless doth proclaim with vigor vocal miscalculation soon overrun. By each uncomfortable digit as it delves into humble crevices within wonder Where hope is dragged like lifeless body behind racing truck of human blunder.

#philosophical malpractice

1 note · View note

margaretfrost · 2 years

Text

September

Prologue

As September draws to a close, I find myself pulling harder and harder on the reins of my restless mind. But that endless energy that is so often directed into plunging my head into the future must go somewhere and so I walk – miles and miles through the town in which I live and through the fields and forests and villages that surround it. And as I wander, ever-aimless, I turn to nature for answers like so many poets and philosophers before. Gazing up at the crystal cold skies, at the trees that shed their skin like enormous snakes, at the impossible bed of grass that has sprung up in the field behind my house as Autumn rains have abated the summer heat and the first frost has not yet killed the green shoots – as I observe all this I wonder what awaits me in the month to come.

Death

September was born into the ashes of death and a shattering crash – the first before the latter.

‘Heartbreak is unpreventable; the natural outcome of caring for people and things over which we have no control. [It] begins the moment we are asked to let go but cannot.’ – David Whyte, Consolations

‘Grief is the price we pay for love,’ – Queen Elizabeth II

I wasn’t ready to let go of M. Seventy-seven is too young. Any age would have been too young. Any death too complicated, no matter how straightforward – aneurism, heart attack, they’re not sure, but he was old and he was sick. I suppose we always want more time with the people who leave us – there’s never enough time – but this was especially true with M.

I didn’t just want time, I needed it. I needed life’s complications to straighten out so that I could hold him again, hug him again, place my hand on his frail one, tell him how much I loved him, flop onto his couch, show him that I would always feel at home with him – things I hadn’t been able to do for months.

‘I'll leave behind miles and miles of jagged lines Upon the surface of the Divine I wish I could set them straight’ – Anger, Sleeping at Last

But the jagged lines in life didn’t straighten in time, and so he died before I could make it right with him. As the grief overwhelmed me, I buried myself in the belief that he had known. Despite everything that had happened, he had known I loved him as a father – or grandfather perhaps – and he had loved me. I buried myself in the role of comforter to those connected with him, burying myself as deep as they would let me, too deep perhaps. Burying myself in the life and love of someone else so I could put off the confrontation of my own life, my own lost self, a little longer. ‘I feel the earth shaking under my feet. I feel the pressure building until I can’t breathe and it takes everything, and it all spills out’ Anger by Sleeping at Last.

The day before M died, the back window of a car shattered, literally. When I say it shattered, what I mean is that the roof of this car experienced so much pressure, that the back window splintered and then exploded, sending shards of glass in every direction. No one got hurt, but I heard it was terrifying and messy and hell to clean up.

I can sympathise; I was terrified and messy and hell to clean up.

Ireland

My mind was in chaos as I stumbled through the few days between a flight to the States and a flight to Ireland. I latched onto the comfort and support of others, choosing to place my faith in their belief that all would be ok, having run out of my own.

‘I am your hiding place, I will protect you from trouble and surround you with songs of deliverance,’ David, the Psalmist, paraphrased.

In my very limited understanding of how Hebrew poetry and language works, one word can have many meanings. The word interpreted here as hiding also means covering, shelter, secret.

Ireland is hardly a secret, but it felt like a hiding place, not from any one person or one thing, but from myself. More than a change of scenery, it was a change of rhythm, a break from the relentless pace of my own mind. Friends from the UK kept asking how I was finding Ireland, to which I had only one reply. I don’t know! But the Dublin Convention Centre is very cool.

The days were long – out before the sun, on my feet for 12+ hours – but the work was satisfying, requiring my complete attention, leaving very little space to think which was a mercy.

But there was a price for the frenetic pace of the conference and within hours of returning home I fell sick – the kind of sick that knocks you out cold. Thankfully, one of my oldest friends came to visit me from Oregon (she was also working the conference) and helped nurse me back to health with food runs and a thoroughly enjoyable Twilight marathon. She left a week ago, but I am still buoyed by the rich memories of her visit.

Wintering

I had thought September would be a month of Wintering - a fallow period of life, a time to retreat and repair. As August came to an end, I threw my door open wide to this idea. Perhaps I was naïve to wish Winter on myself in a hurry. The sooner it descends, the sooner it will thaw I thought. But I find myself in these first few days of my own soul’s Winter and feel the heaviness it brings with it.

‘However, it arrives, wintering is usually involuntary, lonely, and deeply painful,’ Katherine May, Wintering.

I forgot that it doesn’t come upon you all at once – it builds. The days get colder and shorter. You notice yourself reaching for your coat more often, preferring hot teas in the afternoon to refreshing juices. A quietness slowly descends with the weight of snow, muffling, deadening.

Try as I might to pretend that Wintering is my idea, I choose to Winter in the same way I might choose to be alone – I will be alone regardless whether or not I choose it, but somehow in the choosing I feel like I maintain control. But if the elements can show us anything, it is how little power we have, not only over the circumstances of our lives but even over ourselves: our thoughts, our emotions – either in understanding or expression.

‘Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?... Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail, which I reserve for times of trouble, for days of war and battle? Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens when the waters become hard as stone, when the surface of the deep is frozen? Can you loosen Orion’s belt? Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons or lead out the Bear with its cubs? Do you know the laws of the heavens?’ – Job

Powerless. For all that we know and all the advances that we have made, we cannot bend the earth to shape our will. We cannot undo the things we have done. And we cannot control ‘who lives, who dies, who tells our story.’ And yet we spend our whole lives trying to escape this feeling. We drive ourselves forward with such force so that we don’t have to be reminded how little we are actually driving.

That isn’t to say I am not responsible for my actions, but I am so often at the mercy of my circumstances, the decisions of those around me, the decisions of those afar. We seek to understand our world in greater detail, as if we can only find the right framework, we might be spared the pain of our own insufficiency.

‘I hazard the explanation that a shock is at once in my case followed by the desire to explain it. I feel that I have had a blow; but… it is or will become a revelation of some order; and I make it real by putting it into words. It is only by putting it into words that I make it whole; this wholeness means that it has lost its power to hurt me,’ Virginia Woolfe, Moments of Being

‘We seek knowledge. We want to know. And to know in this case is as much about power as it is about knowledge. Power enables us not only to cope with our deep awareness of our own vulnerability, but also eliminates that weakness from our consciousness,’ Psychiatrist Curt Thompson

Looking ahead to October, I can see Winter coming upon me in earnest now. There’s fear with its arrival, a genuine concern that I won’t be ready to face the challenges it will present to me, that I won’t be able to find that sacred explanation, that understanding will allude me, and that I will be crushed beneath the weight of my own powerlessness.

‘Every spiritual journey takes us into the hardest realities of our lives.’ - Peter Scazzero

‘Do not be far from me for trouble is near,’ the psalmist

Loved

A particularly dear memory from this month was sitting on my kitchen floor with Lauren’s beautiful face filling my computer screen as we catch up with a long-overdue Zoom.

‘What if I’ll be alone for the rest of my life? What if by the time I’ve healed no one will love me.’

She replies without an ounce of hesitation, with complete conviction, the kind of conviction strong enough to anchor others to it.

‘You are loved. And you are not alone.’

So I am clothing myself in the warm, comforting, wooly truth that I am enough. Drinking in the hot comfort of I am worthy. Nourishing myself with the sweetness of I am loved.

‘The supreme happiness of life consists in the conviction that one is loved; loved for one’s own sake – let us say rather, loved in spite of one’s self,’ Victor Hugo, Les Miserables.

0 notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 3 years

Text

Aredhel, Reborn

This is a fragment that I started putting together a long time ago, and it stops in the middle, but my writing isn’t cooperating right now so I’m posting it as-is for @tolkiengenweek . It’s a sequel to my two previous Aredhel pieces (but not my Aredhel and Eöl one, which isn’t in continuity with it). Hopefully I’ll manage to follow up on it.

********************

Aredhel leaves the Halls, permitted to return to life for no reason that she can comprehend. She has not sought mercy for herself, though she has asked it a thousand times for her son and been met with a deafening silence. She chooses to return because Fingon is doing so, and he might not be able to bring himself to go if he left behind both of his siblings as well as his dearest friend. Turgon should have returned - would have been permitted to return, yeni ago, not tainted by kinslaying as his siblings are - but he is being stubborn, out of some mix of reluctance to face the survivors of Gondolin and reluctance to face the Lord of the Waters.

They reenter life to be almost immediately caught in their father’s embrace. Through all that follows - returning to Tirion, reunion with their mother and cousins, an apology to the Lady Eärwen that clearly terrifies Fingon more than any battle he’s ever fought in - the world seems faded and distant to Aredhel, as though some part of her fëa had never left the Halls. She cannot stay in Tirion, she cannot seem to hold the thread of a conversation with anyone, even her parents and brother. She knows, distantly, that she loves them, but it all seems so far away.

Her aimless feet take her to Valmar, and she find herself at the one place in the Blessed Realm that is shunned by Eldar and Ainur alike, climbing from the foot of Ezellohar to the two broken skeletons that were once the purest light in the universe, and as she collapses to the grass she feels, for the first time, a connection with the world. How did you do it? she whispers. How do you continue when what you hold dearest has been turned to darkness and ruin and ash? And something connects within her mind, something that never did through all the years in the Halls, never did during her return to Tirion, though all the reunions and necessary, distant apologies. Her feet carry her south and east, to the seashore and the white city, the city of pearls.

She does not go to the throne room of the king and queen, but to the docks, cloaked and hooded and unnoticed, seeking for faces she remembers. She finds one, working, holding a small curved knife in her hand that she uses to shell oysters.

Aredhel raises her hood, sees the Telerin woman start at the sight of her, and falls to her knees. The knife stops its work, poised in midair.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…I wished to apologize. To say that I was wrong.”

“So? What does that mean? What will that mend?” The woman lays down the shelling-knife, goes to a ship, and picks up another meant for carving wood. She lays the blade to a piece of wood lying nearby and the hands, their movements so smooth and deft when shelling oysters, begin to shake, leaving jagged, uneven cuts, leaving it useless. “I built the ships your people so wantonly destroyed, shaped them as you Noldor shape steel, and now I live again, but that which gave me life has left me. We did not hoard them and hide them in vaults, we sailed them and lived aboard them until they were more our home than the shore, and all you left to us were blood and ash and tainted memories.” The tremors through her body come in waves now, and her voice is choked. “My life was the least of what you stole from me. And now you seek what? Absolution? Resolution? This does not end for me. Why should it end for you?”

Aredhel hunches in on herself. “I surrender. What would you have of me?”

“Why come here, and not to the king?”

Olwë wouldn’t do anything to me - for Uncle Finarfin’s sake, if not for my own. He wasn’t who I attacked. He wasn’t who I killed.

“I thought you had more right. I…I know what it is to be betrayed by one whom you trusted. I know what it it is to see what you love dearest cast into ruin. And if I had - him - apologizing to me, truly and sincerely, as I am to you” - her voice breaks - “I would bury a knife in his guts.” She is shaking. “I came here because I didn’t know what else to do. Only that I needed to do something. I surrender. Say what you want from me, and you will have it.”

The Telerin woman just looks tired. “I don’t want your blood. What use would that be? I don’t want you locked up. What good would that do anyone? You cannot give back what you have taken. You cannot restore what is destroyed.

“Leave us in peace. Go.”

Aredhel goes.

....

She flees to the wild lands she once loved, which no longer feel so narrow as they did in the years of her youth, before Gondolin and Nan Elmoth and the Halls, before she knew that duty was a chain and love was a chain. Fear, too, is a chain, as she find when she wanders into the woods of Oromë where she once hunted with her cousins and stops, trembling, as the treetops cut off the sky, frozen, her thought a thousand miles away in drowned lands where the forest went from wonder to horror to prison. She works her way stumbling back to the light, her arms clutching at branches and tree-trunks to pull her onwards, until she emerges again into the free air.

She goes, instead, to the open plains, where she can run and ride and hunt, and take joy in feeling alive again, with a heart that beats and mouth that tastes and limbs that ache. In time she returns to the forest, first to edges and sun-dappled clearings, later to the denser woods in autumn when the leaves turn yellow and brown and fall to create openings where light and warmth enters, and nuts and fruits and berries surround her at every turn. Regaining the woods in summertime takes longer, where leaves create deep pools of shadow, and it is longer still before she wishes to be in the woods after nightfall, looking up at the stars.

(She no longer wears white. She dresses in greys and browns and tans, and in plain or woodland she might be mistaken for part of the landscape.)

She cannot say, for certain, how much of her escape is driven by avoiding walls, and how much by avoiding people, avoiding the need to hear or speak of (or hear people deliberately and delicately not speak of) a son she cannot defend and will not condemn. Did she shun the woods because they felt a cage, or because it felt that at any moment a pale-skinned, black-haired boy might step out of them with a present for his mother of hazlenuts or newly-caught game or skillfully-carved wood? A boy who is gone, who is become something she cannot and will not name.

Fingon finds her, from time to time, with uncanny ability, though he was never her equal as a woodsman. They share meals, wanderings, conversations light or serious. He does not tell her to return, though he speaks often of their parents and at times ventures to say how much they miss her. She does not know how to explain. Fingon can feel that their positions, failing and pardoned and returned and grieving for the lost, are the same, but it does not feel so to her. He fell in battle, and with a host of heroic deeds to his name. Her father fell in combat, the greatest one in the history of Arda. She died because she trusted the wrong person, loved the wrong person, ran off, was irresponsible and impetuous as always, led an enemy back to the one safe home she still had; her place in the First Age’s history is the dislodged rock or careless shout that starts an avalanche. Turgon has never blamed her for Gondolin’s fall, but that is because she never spoke to him while they were in the Halls, never knowing what to say. I am sorry that my son existed? She isn’t. She isn’t. She isn’t. She is only sorry that his father orphaned him, left him alone among strangers in a strange city with no parent to guide him.

One morning she awakes at her campsite to find her father there, tending the embers of her fire. She does not know how he has found her; he is gifted in scholarship, in diplomacy, in governance, in craftwork, in all the arts of war, but not in woodcraft or tracking or the arts of the wildnerness (save, by necessity, of keeping thousands of people alive in bone-chilling, soul-numbing temperatures).

They speak a little of other things, of her life in the woods and his in Tirion, but he cannot long restrain the question he has come to ask. “Aredhel, can you not come home?”

She offers the easier explanation first, the other being too painful to place in words. “I don’t want to go back to be pitied as a failure.”

“We all failed, dearest. Every one of us.”

“You did not. Not like me. You died fighting Morgoth and every Elda and I expect every Vala respects you for that. Fingon died fighting a balrog. My younger cousins died in battle. Even the philosopher did better than me! I was one of the most eager to go, I killed people in order to go, atta, and I have nothing to show for it, no achievements, nothing to boast of, and I will not go back to be petted and pitied and patronized, I won’t -” and she knows she still sounds like a spoiled child even now, when the others have grown wise and thoughtful and penitent.

Her father simply looks at her, long and quiet, as if trying to perceive all the words she has left unspoken, and they finally struggle to her lips.

“I don’t want to know what they all think of him. I do know what they think of him. I don’t want to be consoled for what my son did or became by people who didn’t know him and can’t understand him, and to know they are thinking of it every time they look at me, I’ll hate them for it and it will break out and I’ll cause trouble for everyone again - ” she’s stopped looking at her father, not wanting to see in his eyes his opinion of such a grandson, not wanting to feel the wrath against him that would come from it. “Why does everything I love fall to evil? My son, Tyelko, Curvo, my - ” she cannot bring herself to say husband, “- him? Do I have no judgement, no discernment? Am I being punished? I loved him when he killed me, I love my son and my cousins yet, and I don’t want to explain or to justify or to live among people that hate them -”

She is weeping now, and her father pulls her into an embrace. “You did not deserve this, Aredhel. Not what happened to you, or what happened to your son.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is quiet now. “I think, sometimes, it is all of a piece. If you do evil to gain something, whether it be ill in itself or not, it will burn you when you find it. As with my cousins and the gemstones. I killed to gain freedom from limitations or constraint, and when I took it it burned me.”

#tolkien #the silmarillion #aredhel #fingolfin #fanfic #tolkiengenweek #cw trauma

83 notes · View notes

raveneira · 4 years

Text

Alright this extends from a twitter discussion, this is my counter argument to this post right here that they referenced, now this is my rebuttal.

You accepted that Ashura has reincarnated inside of you, instead of accepted that Ashura has reincarnated as you…. This makes me think that Ashura is just clinging to Naruto and isn’t actually him… Cause when people reincarnate they reincarnate as someone or something else, not inside of them, that’s more like a possession…

First off thats not how reincarnation works, several times in this post they make the argument that in order to be a true reincarnation that the two people have to be one and the same, this couldnt be further from the truth though.

Reincarnation, also known as rebirth or transmigration is the philosophical or religious belief that the non-physical essence of a living being begins a new life in a different physical form or body after biological death

In most beliefs involving reincarnation, the soul is seen as immortal and the only thing that becomes perishable is the body. Upon death, the soul becomes transmigrated into a new infant (or animal) to live again. The term transmigration means passing of soul from another body to another after-death.

THIS is how reincarnation works.

The body itself is not that of Ashura, but of Naruto, but Ashura’s SOUL is INSIDE Naruto’s body. They may have the same soul, but the new body functions largely as its own individual.

Take Inuyasha for example, Kagome is the reincarnation of Kikyo, she has no memories of Kikyo’s but she inherited her spiritual powers and affinity with a bow and also her love for Inuyasha. Kagome and Kikyo are separate individuals yes, but she still has Kikyo’s soul and her powers by extension. The same applies to Naruto, he and Ashura are different people yes, but he still has Ashura’s SOUL and as such his power, he also inherited his love for his brother Indra which was passed down to Hashirama for Madara, and then Naruto for Sasuke.

To clarify YES Kagome grew to love Inuyasha through her own experiences for her own reasoning, and Naruto grew to love Sasuke like a brother through his own experiences and for his own reasoning. But this was both DESTINED and FATED to happen because of who they were, or more specifically who they are inside. It was inevitable.

The individuals may be different, but as reincarnations they still inherited their past lives powers and bonds/feelings towards the person who was most precious to them before dying. In Kikyo’s case it was her strong love for Inuyasha passed on to Kagome, and in Ashura’s case it was his strong love for his brother Indra and desire to save him passed down to Naruto.

When Hashirama and Madara died, the transmigration cycle resumed. Naruto Uzumaki became the next inheritor of Asura's chakra and will, with Sasuke Uchiha inheriting Indra's chakra and will.

This is from the Naruto wiki, but it is still an accurate description of what reincarnation is in Naruto, the transmigration of someones soul into another persons body, which is exactly what Hagoromo says happened with Naruto and Sasuke.

It’s important to note Naruto is the only one who refers to it as being haunted by a ghost and possession, Hagoromo specifically says in EVERY instance that Naruto and Sasuke are reincarnations and that Ashura and Indra have reincarnated inside them, so to use Naruto’s words here as evidence is inaccurate, because Hagoromo specifically says reincarnation, not possession.

In Hagoromo’s own character file refers to it as the transmigration of souls walking through an eternity of samara, making the argument of possession null and void.

Saṃsāra is a Sanskrit word that means "world". It is also the concept of rebirth and "cyclicality of all life, matter, existence", a fundamental belief of most Indian religions. In short, it is the cycle of death and rebirth. Saṃsāra is sometimes referred to with terms or phrases such as transmigration, karmic cycle, reincarnation, and "cycle of aimless drifting, wandering or mundane existence"

So this statement right here ^ is thoroughly debunked.

The definition of reincarnation and possession is vastly different with how they function and honestly disproves your own point of them being different people, because in order to be possessed you have to be CONTROLED by another entity which Naruto and Sasuke are not.

To possess is to take control over, if Indra and Ashura took control over them and have been in control their whole lives that means two twin brothers consciously developed romantic feelings for eachother by your logic, which is even worse than them just being reincarnations.

Possession is a term more accurate for Edo Tensei or Karma, not reincarnation.

So what am I getting at here? Reincarnation in Naruto doesnt mean being considered the same person as the deceased, it just means you have their soul, it DOES NOT MEAN Naruto is Ashura, he still has his own identity, but part of that identity is influenced by Ashura.

Hagoromo actually refers to it in several ways but they all essentially have the same meaning.

‘Ashura’s chakra is clinging about you’

‘Ashura’s presence inside you’

‘Ashura has reincarnated as you’

‘Ashura has reincarnated inside you’.

All different phrases, but carry the same meaning, Ashura’s soul reincarnated inside of Naruto, and Indra’s soul reincarnated inside Sasuke.

Your putting too much emphasis on the wording rather than the meaning.

Ashura clearly influenced Naruto in many ways despite them being separate people, by having the same soul its only natural that Naruto would inherit many of Ashura’s traits. Hagoromo himself points out how much like Ashura he is.

So their not really that different after all. Ashura’s soul still had alot of influence on Naruto’s beliefs, personality, and ideals as well as his strong bond with Sasuke. Naruto may have reached those conclusions in his own way through his own experiences but the result remained the same as Ashura’s due to his influence from inside him.

However although their not the same person physically, I think its important to note they are the same person spiritually. They still have their own unique chakra signatures that can be distinguished by certain ocular jutsu’s, but they are still overall the same spiritually with the same soul and chakra.

Naruto Uzumaki became the next inheritor of Asura's chakra and will, with Sasuke Uchiha inheriting Indra's chakra and will.

Again this is from the wiki, but it still accurately depicts what happened. They are different people, but they still inherited Indra and Ashura’s will from having their souls inside them.

Dont misunderstand, Naruto and Sasuke still have their own wills too and not all of their decisions and feelings extend from Indra and Ashura, Im just saying that they had an INFLUENCE on them in several aspects of their lives, but they still formed their own bonds and relationships through their own life experiences. Zetsu even comments on how Naruto and Sasuke are cooperating closely together more than any other reincarnate before them, proving they are still their own person capable of doing things their own way.

The fact that Naruto was able to succeed where Hashirama and Ashura failed is also proof of their individuality, but that was also predestined to happen.

Ultimately, Naruto managed to succeed in Asura's final goal which all other reincarnations failed at: end the rift between the two lines of the reincarnated brothers. Naruto achieved this after defeating Sasuke, who then finally accepted Naruto's ideals.

Everything I said for Naruto applies to Sasuke so I dont really need to reiterate it.

Onto the next point.

My point is that Indra and Ashura clung to people of their bloodline that was a lot like them, in terms of personality or ambitions, and thereby were reincarnated… So Naruto and Sasuke aren’t brothers and instead are just possessed by brothers..

This is impossible, because Indra and Ashura didnt possess Naruto and Sasuke like I said, but reincarnated inside them not long after they were born once both previous reincarnates were dead, meaning Indra and Ashura had NO idea what Naruto and Sasuke’s personalities or ambitions would be later in life. Their not psychic, they cant see the future so this argument is invalid.

They simply reincarnated inside Naruto and Sasuke because they were newborns and Hashirama was already dead, so all that was needed was for Madara to die which didnt happen till years later when Naruto and Sasuke were born. Once Sasuke was born Indra reincarnated into him, and when Naruto was born Ashura reincarnated into him. Naruto and Sasuke just happened to be born at the right time, there was nothing more to it than that.

So now that we’re done with the reincarnation counter argument, now for why NaruSasu is problematic because of it and yes, they are in fact brothers.

For starters going off what I said about reincarnation alone already makes things problematic, infact it is the MAIN reason its problematic. Just because Naruto and Sasuke arent literally Indra and Ashura doesnt change the fact that they have their SOULS, meaning they are literally SOUL brothers, do you really not see the problem with two guys who were TWIN brothers in their past lives to be romantically involved? come on now.

Here he says that he and Sasuke aren’t true brothers, which means that they’re not actually related despite being reincarnated from brothers.. Which again, to my knowledge, if you’re reincarnated from brothers you’d still be brothers… But he says that they’re not…

This is flawed on so many levels, as I’ve already explained how reincarnation works in both Naruto and Japanese beliefs they are SOUL brothers. If your soul was reincarnated into a new body, and your brother or sisters soul was reincarnated into another body, would you want your reincarnates in a romantic relationship with eachother? I know I wouldnt, because as shown in Naruto Indra and Ashura are still very much conscious inside them, which means they are AWARE of whats happening, they just dont have control over them.

Even if they WERENT conscious its irrelevant, because the core issue is that they are THERE and they are BROTHERS, this is not incest in a physical sense, but in a spiritual sense this is very much an incetuous ship as they share both body and soul, that is still VERY problematic because they are STILL brothers, not by blood, but by soul.

While Naruto does say that he sees Sasuke as a brother several times, it doesn’t seem like that at all… To me it seems more like a crush that he doesn’t realize he has, or a crush he isn’t ready to believe he has…

Thats all speculation and how you choose to perceive things, but there is beyond enough evidence that proves it wrong which I’ll go more in depth in another post I’ll link back to here. But honestly theres not only tons of evidence that proves it wrong, theres literally nothing anywhere in canon that suggests romantic feelings between them in the first place. Thats a fact not an opinion.

Want my more condensed version of why NaruSasu are brothers refer to my twitter thread here

But just to add one of my points here, which is the other biggest reason NaruSasu is problematic, is that they are ACTUAL brothers.

I know right? I just said their not Indra and Ashura and are their own person how are they brothers? simple, thats true only for the show, however theres one other key factor that makes any argument you try to pull from the show for WHY their not brothers null and void. Which is that they are brothers by DESIGN.

Unfortunately the link is no longer available but this persons summary is pretty much what Kishimoto said. And the one above it is an actual sceenshot from when the site was still up.

From the beginning they were modeled after two real life brothers, Kishimoto and his twin brother Seishi, that was always the INTENT when making Naruto and Sasuke’s bond, so regardless of if their brothers by blood, by soul, or by bond, they are brothers by design, theres not a single argument you can come up with that’ll change that.

So in conclusion, yes, Sasuke and Naruto are real brothers by design, so for some people to call it incest is not far from the truth, because to ship Naruto and Sasuke your essentially shipping Kishimoto and his Twin brother.

I didnt wanna make this too long, so I focused on just the reincarnation aspect as that was the main point of the argument, and saved the other stuff about their relationship for another post so there wouldnt have to be a ton of scrolling on one post. But honestly? I think this post sums it up pretty well on WHY shipping this is problematic, you dont HAVE to stop shipping it if you dont want to, Im just pointing out why saying they are not brothers is factually incorrect.

#anti-narusasu #naruto fandom

22 notes · View notes

hermaea · 4 years

Text

Uno Cards for Divination

Format: [#] — Upright meaning; reversed meaning

This is my original guide ! Do not claim it as your own ♥

Red Suit — Wands

0 — Enthusiasm (childlike), taking on a new project, spontaneity, initiative, excitement; energy block, wasted/missed opportunity, burning out

1 — Confidence, open-mindedness, fertility, opportunities, positive parental figure, passion; misguided, missing opportunities, boring, stagnant, disappointment

2 — Clear choice, difficult decision, limited options, trusting intuition; unclear path, no good options, further thought required

3 — Payoff, success after taking a chance, ambition noticed, energy boost; exhaustion, frustration, sexual ineptitude, too afraid to try

4 — Marriage, family, celebration, community, peace, joy; tension, different values, failed teamwork, unnecessary restraint

5 — Conflict, competition, argument, diversity; conflict with self, stalemate, compromise, end of conflict

6 — Triumph, success, acclaim, pride, achievement; failure, disdain from peers, hubris, opinions falling

7 — Perseverance, courage, standing ground, sticking by morals; abandoning ship, compromising beliefs, burning out

8 — Sudden action, renewed energy, vacation, payoff for very hard work; sudden exhaustion, overworking, delay, bad timing, hysteria

9 — Final stretch, staying resolute, persistence, unforeseen path; not learning from past, severe fatigue, unwilling to learn or listen

+2 — Taking on more than one can handle, overwhelmed, many projects at once, trouble prioritizing; energy boost, renewal, zeal, return of sex drive

Skip — Efforts in vain, failed plans, losing prestige, failing to rise to the challenge; successfully taking advantage, opportunity taken, manipulating someone for own gain

Reverse — Cancelled plans, work being claimed by another, theft, loss; flattery, thinking ahead, dodging questions, laying low, suspicious behavior, suspicion

Yellow Suit — Pentacles

0 — Life change, prosperity, comfort, stability; poverty, greed, lack of opportunities, insecurity, shortsightedness

1 — Grounded, good advice, maturity, material comfort, stability; chaos, anger, abusive situation, bad outlook, poverty

2 — Minor financial trouble, stay level-headed, do not abandon responsibilities, embarrassment; disorganization, running self thin, material losses, overwhelmed

3 — Learning, mentorship, commitment, wisdom beyond years, encouragement, reward for attentiveness; shortsightedness, hedonism, aimlessness, immaturity

4 — Materialism, greed, nostalgia, sentimental, obsession, need for control; minimalism, sharing, losing some money to generosity or addiction, self-soothing

5 — Entering a negative period, hardship, pressure, neglect, temporary but impactful loss; getting back on feet, relief, outside help, accepting aid, recovery

6 — Charity, reward, authority, support, value seen; manipulation of power, manipulation of finances, inequality, dependence

7 — Returns on investment, reward, manifestation of goals, cultivation, effort finally paying off; bad business, abandoned projects, idleness, waste

8 — New line of work, success, concentration, making good connections, confidence; dissatisfaction, tired of routine, workaholism, lack of qualifications

9 — Independence, profit, elegance, indulgence, freedom, wisdom; overworking, dependency, deceit, cheapness of character, shallow character

+2 — Major financial loss, bad karma, enemy succeeding, punishment for bad decision; seizing a risky opportunity, succeeding with some conditions, chance to impress peers

Skip — Bad investment, theft, trusted person taking advantage, misplaced loyalty; taking an opportunity from someone else, thriftiness, stealing from another, selfishness

Reverse — Risky partnership, older partner, inexperience, trust not quite earned; divulging secrets, new addition to the family/household, making room, pet, inferiority

Green Suit — Swords

0 — Stroke of genius, intellectual or philosophical breakthrough, pursuing a new interest, ideas; failure, restlessness, wrong path, overlooked

1 — Sophistication, discerning, politeness, cool & collected older figure, wisdom; rudeness, tactlessness, acting foolishly, oppression, judgmental

2 — Difficult decision, crossroads, blindness, repressed emotions in the face of change; learning a painful truth, emotionally guarded, overwhelmed

3 — Heartbreak, removal, loneliness, loss, depression, grief; overcoming hardship, optimism, recovery, CAN ALSO MEAN emotional repression

4 — Need for escape, solitude, overstimulation/overload, introspection, relaxation; recovering mental health, return to world, restlessness, CAN ALSO MEAN breakdown, mental collapse

5 — Surrender, self-sabotaging behavior, gratuitous violence, resisting a threat that is too cumbersome to beat; taking a big risk to get out of a tight spot, moving on, compromise, communication, suddenly taking action

6 — Progress, calming waters, spirit guides, journey, running away; very strenuous & long journey ahead, abandoning plans, entrapment

7 — Lack of conscience, holding onto beliefs too tightly, manipulating others carefully, getting away with something; confession, coming to senses, descent into perpetual deceit of the self & of others

8 — Trapped in a bad situation, forced to face demons, victimization, major anxiety, sick with thoughts; escape, freedom, taking control, survivor, end of a long punishment

9 — Overthinking, making something out of nothing, at breaking point, negative thinking; recovery, accepting little joys, accepting help, CAN ALSO MEAN complete mental breakdown, giving up

+2 — Something to think about, making connections in head, learning quickly, realization; teaching others, taking on a mentor role, letting thoughts flow, self-expression through words

Skip — Forgetting, repression of a memory, distancing self from past, trying to renew self; nostalgia, (painful) reminder, sentimental, missing something that is gone forever

Reverse — Ideas shut down, not allowed to express thoughts, treated like an idiot; leading a discussion, censoring inappropriate ideas, speaking up

Blue Suit — Cups

0 — Happiness, new fulfillment, conception, new relationship; emotional loss, bad news, unlucky in love

1 — Charming person, emotional maturity, warmth, sensitivity, affection; emotional immaturity, self-serving, cheating on a partner, bitterness

2 — Partnership, compatibility, soulmates, strong connection; incompatibility, breakup, bullying, toxic relationship

3 — Reunion, socializing, partying, indulgence, wedding, graduation; over-indulgence, gossip, loneliness, cancelled plans

4 — Refusing an offer, apathy, yearning, self-absorption as a result of depression or anxiety; accepting an offer, seizing the day, letting go of regret, self-awareness, optimism

5 — Grief, trauma, despair, sudden & unwelcome change, misery; moving on, resolving grief or trauma, acceptance of situation

6 — Children, nostalgia, homesickness, youth, innocence, goodwill; looking ahead, thinking about the future, move to independence, CAN ALSO MEAN looking too fondly on the past, childhood abuse, losing innocence, stuck in the past

7 — Fantasizing, lots of options to choose from, uncertainty, procrastination; reality, clarity, sobriety, restriction, limited choice

8 — Abandonment, escaping, self-discovery, withdrawal, moving away physically but looking within; stagnation, fear of change, fake happiness, low self-worth, staying in a bad situation

9 — Fulfillment, dreams realized, pleasure, spiritual accomplishment, recognition; nightmare scenario, desires turning out to be undesirable, devastation, unrewarding

+2 — Emotional outburst, stuck in a bad relationship, wandering eyes; good communication, equal power dynamic, healthy self-disclosure, learning someone’s true feelings

Skip — Emotional abuse, neglect, not being listened to properly, deteriorating physical health; ignoring someone unpleasant, insults, brushing off others’ comments

Reverse — Becoming aware of toxic tendencies, unsavory self-discovery, learning who true friends are, road to self-improvement; venting to someone but never listening to them, backstabbing, telling secrets, using someone

Special Cards

Wild, upright — Balance, order, reflection on the self; peace, contentment with the self

Wild, reversed — Disorder, neglect of one particular aspect of life (card above is too present, card below is not getting enough attention)

Draw 4, upright — Overly punishing the self, mistreatment by a loved one, feeling stuck or stagnant, needing change but not having the power to

Draw 4, reversed — Settling the score, revenge, taking power back from one who has abused it; in extreme situations, being the abuser

Shuffle Hands — Denial, deceit, poor reasoning, foolish or immature person

Trade Hands — Retribution, taking a calculated risk; showing someone something inappropriately, shared trauma

#witch #witchcraft #baby witch #closeted witch #uno #tarot #divination #cartomancy #cardology #magick #witch tip #mine

167 notes · View notes

pet-genius · 3 years

Text

Benedict - A Tom Riddle One Shot

Benedict lived in a forest in Albania, where he had magically fashioned for himself a dwelling place that seemed untouched by man, yet offered every convenience and dignity magic could afford a wizard.

He had a forest elf who cared for him, Adriel, and very little company. Wild elves were known to be very selective in their choice of company, attaching to the worthiest wizards if at all, to give companionship rather than service. They regarded the breeding of house elves an insult to their kind and a crime against magic. Benedict was a philosopher of magic who had written about the Dark Arts, and of the very few visitors he had had, none had come from England; not since Albus Dumbledore had become the Transfiguration Master and Deputy Headmaster of their School of Magic. Regardless, he was as comfortable speaking English as any other language, and he accepted Tom Riddle with cordial respect.

"I am surprised to see a Hogwarts alumnus here. I didn’t know the library still carries my books now that Dumbledore is a teacher there."

"It's not the only magical library in the Great Kingdom,” Tom said. "You've heard, perhaps, of the Rosiers and the Dolohovs?"

Tom had been to their libraries, had “borrowed” copies of the books they owned, had seethed at the paternalistic denial of true magical knowledge.

"Yes, the Dolohovs. I know the Karkaroffs, who are related to them by marriage. Many scholars in that family, though I've not had the pleasure of meeting any of them in person."

If the Karkaroffs were scholarly, all the Dolohovs Tom knew were interested in books only insofar as they could be levitated and dropped on an opponents' head. He was sure the books he had stolen from them would not be missed.

Still, he nodded. “Gossip is beneath us – I do not wish to waste your time. I have come to study the Dark Arts, Sir. You are the foremost authority on this subject. You must know I'm worthy, as I’ve broken every curse and passed every obstacle you placed along the path to finding you.”

Tom despised these pleasantries and longed for the day his reputation would precede him. To come here had already required him to use location spells, apply his knowledge of the magical creatures and plants of Albania and how to escape them, and crack ciphers and anagrams and secret passwords. "Those who walk the path deserve to climb the mountain," he continued, quoting out of Benedict's own magnum opus to the author himself.

Benedict summoned his elf, and Adriel returned with a mirror that he held so reverentially its surface remained as smooth as water, even in the forest - not a speck of dirt was allowed to touch it. "Have a look," Benedict ordered, and Tom looked. Only his own reflection stared back at him. Adriel and Benedict exchanged inscrutable glances and after what seemed an arbitrary length of time, Benedict closed his eyes and lowered his head.

"I shall teach you. Not since Gellert Grindelwald have I encountered a soul such as yours. You possess extraordinary power, Thomas (Benedict stressed the "mas"), and you must exercise it with great caution. The Dark Arts are as dangerous to those who use them as to those they are used on, and best wielded by those who have true power. Do you know why Dumbledore removed them from the curriculum? It is not kind to speculate, but I think the tale is worth recounting."

"Please, Sir.”

"Very few people know what I know, and even I don’t know everything, despite the privilege of having spoken both to Dumbledore and Grindelwald. I am an old man, but my memory is as keen as it ever was. I first met Gellert when he came here to supplement his education after having been expelled from Durmstrang. They never should have expelled him, I say – the difficult students are the greatest test to educators - but I digress. He has family in England, perhaps you've heard of Ms. Bathilda Bagshot?"

As the story unfolded, Tom concealed his surprise: The purebloods had always whispered vague allusions in hushed tones about Dumbledore, the old bachelor who deflected questions about his private life with expertise, but he never would have imagined that he had once been Gellert Grindelwald’s lover. In a sense, it was unsatisfying – it felt so utterly banal.

“I was not so wise as I am today, Thomas; I had been taken in by Gellert's recounting of the events. Dumbledore himself filled me in on the sordid details, with great, great shame. I had warned him – he had made a mistake, changing the curriculum. To simply avoid the Dark altogether is impossible – it is in all of us. Students of age need to know that only true masters ought to broach the Darkest of the Dark Arts. Censorship and a shroud of mystery only make them attractive to precisely the wrong sort of wizard. But alas, Dumbledore did not listen. I speak, of course, of mastery of the self, Tom. I wonder – do you agree, or do you find yourself questioning your choice to come here and listen to an old and solitary man?”

"No, Sir. I don’t agree." Tom surprised even himself. Normally, he would have lied and said he agrees wholeheartedly with this nugget of wisdom. Mastery of the self seemed to him a contradiction in terms; he wanted mastery of the world and everyone in it.

"True freedom means serving the right master, or the right cause; not aimless wandering in quest of new appetites to sate. The wild elves know this, but the wizards have not learned. Are you a wizard or a pig, Thomas?"

Tom did not know this, but his eyes flashed a shade of scarlet. He wondered if this was some sort of test.

"With all due respect, Sir, I believe that the Dark Arts – in the right hands, can make so-called mastery of the self redundant, obsolete. Wizards do not have to succumb to death, pain, dependence. It is only our self-imposed constraints."

"Once you have drunk all the wine and tasted the flesh of every animal and the fruit of every tree and conquered every man and every woman, I think you'll find, Thomas, that you are quite mistaken. I have taught Gellert. He was not unlike you, and I venture to guess that he is freer and wiser now than he had ever been, since in the prison of his own device, he had to learn to control his wants and desires. The Indians the Great Kingdom conquered know that life is suffering. Even if you are the most powerful wizard, the most feared, you will never get what you truly lack.”

“Perhaps I do wonder why I came here. Certainly not to listen to a man at death’s doorstep spew nonsense. I can only assume you are testing me,” he smiled.

“Oh, you have already been tested. Life has not always been kind to you. You’ve lost so much not two hours after you were born, raised in abject conditions, in the dark about your true self. And yet you seized the first opportunity you had for betterment and discovered that your roots in the magical world run deep. Your path was paved to become Minister of Magic in your native land in record time, and yet you chose to come here. Not a lot of politicians come here, as I’m sure you know. There is no need to test you any further. It will not do you good.”

The void that Tom could never elude for long threatened to clutch at his heart again.

Benedict turned sympathetic. “You must be wondering how I know all this. My mirror – my proudest magical creation. I used to specialize in making magical lenses and mirrors, long ago. I’ve thrown all my magical might into this mirror, but all I could ever see in it was myself. It is how I found myself on the road that led me – and you – here. You, because our story is one, Thomas. No witch or wizard could tell me what I had created, until I despaired and started asking magical beasts. They thought I had gone mad, naturally. A man seeking the advice of creatures of the forest! But the wild elves saw that to the right eyes the mirror reflects the state of the soul. Adriel kindly told me a great deal about you, Thomas.”

Tom contained his indignation.

“Once you’ve conquered the world, and unless I’m much mistaken, it is only a matter of time – once you’ve accomplished everything you ever wanted, maybe you’ll see that you can never bring your mother back to life or force your father to love you. You can never have what you truly deserved, and you will forever seek more power until you will make the inevitable misstep. You ask me to teach you, and it is not too late. You can still learn, you can still undo some of the damage you’d done your soul, Thomas. If you allow me to, it will be my greatest accomplishment, and we both know that’s saying something.”

“I cannot believe it. In Albania and England alike, the same self-righteous foolishness springs in the heart of every man when he is near death. Perhaps it is only men like you who convince themselves they long to be reunited with their mothers and beg them for a hug, because you did not have the foresight and courage to stave death when you were at your prime.”

Benedict smiled a weak smile. “I’m not afraid to die, Thomas. Or to kill. I am a master of the Dark Arts, and I have the presence of mind to kill. But I know what you have done. And several times? Not even Gellert – No. The only thing I can do for you is to ask you to reconsider. You can still be saved.”

Tom could not keep from laughing. He did not need saving, and the idea that he did almost insulted him. He did not even resent the waste of time. Only mortals concerned themselves with that. “Saved from what, Sir, a bit of looking glass and platitudes masquerading as noble truths?”

“You’ve killed and torn yourself apart when you were only a boy. You’ve terminated your own growth. You will be infinitely powerless, the man with a touch of gold who went hungry. I can still help you. You came all this way – don’t let the chance go to waste. It’s the last chance you’ll get, Thomas.”

Tom smirked. On his long journey through the forest, to find this place, and meet this man, he had come to respect Benedict’s penchant for anagrams, and he had made one of his own.

“My name is not Thomas,” he corrected. “My full name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort.”

He drew his wand, and though Benedict was a powerful wizard, he was an old man, and he had wasted his effort defending himself against a much more powerful curse than what Lord Voldemort had decided, in a split second, to use against him – a mere Petrificus Totalus. The killing curse, he used on Adriel, and he savoured the look of helpless terror on Benedict’s immobile face, and laughed.

“Your elf can’t help you now, and I don’t imagine many wizards will be able to find you here. You say that Grindelwald is free in his prison? Now you are freer even than him, to starve to death.”

Lord Voldemort placed a permanent levitating charm on the dratted mirror, positioned it so that Benedict would die staring at his own reflection and at the mist of his breath condensing and evaporating from his greatest magical creation, and stepped over the wild elf’s body as he left, knowing that he had just defeated one of the greatest wizards of his age. If he had anything more to learn before his true life could begin, it could not be much.

#hp fic #voldemort #Voldemort debating Good and Evil and the Dark Arts with an OC

3 notes · View notes

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Care Where I Go When I Die

Pairing: Kassandra x Brasidas

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed; Odyssey

Summary: “Do you ever wonder where you will go…” Brasidas is contemplative, head leaned back, face turned towards the ceiling of his home, the one she has invaded each night since her return to Sparta despite her mother’s questioning, despite the looks from Alexios and the furrow of Nikoloas’ brow.

Rating: T

Archiveofourown

“Do you ever wonder where you will go…” Brasidas is contemplative, head leaned back, face turned towards the ceiling of his home, the one she has invaded each night since her return to Sparta despite her mother’s questioning, despite the looks from Alexios and the furrow of Nikoloas’ brow. Despite the whispers that Brasidas is of marrying age, that he should find himself a wife, the unspoken question as to whether she would be that wife.

Kassandra is lying next to him, chin propped up against his chest, fingers twisting patterns across tanned scarred skin and dark chest hair. It is a common occurrence for them to lie there in placid stillness after making love as the sweat cools on their skin and ask questions, sometimes philosophical, sometimes silly or ridiculous, but always taken seriously by the other. It is part of what she loves so much about him that he can speak freely to her and vice versa, whether he wishes to curse the polis he loves so much, the home that raised him, but would gladly see him die, or whether she were asking what was possibly going through the mind of half the women who bedded Zeus in his many forms.

“Where we go when we…?” She thinks she knows, thinks she can tell which melancholy, sad road his mind has turned down, but knows she must clarify, to fully answer him as is their way. She will take every question he poses to her seriously, she will take every feeling and thought he holds and respect it, treat it carefully, because there is trust there. Trust that she will, trust that they can bare their souls to the other without ridicule, something neither is used to. She holds that trust sacred.

“When we meet our end, when the fates decide our time is done. Will we be remembered and rewarded in Elysium, tormented in Tartarus for wicked deeds, or forgotten by the living, left to wander aimlessly through Hades?” She watches the shake of his body, the swallow in his throat, the bobbing of his Adam's apple that reveals his feelings when he speaks of Tartarus. Kassandra knows that Brasidas wonders if he is wicked, if his deeds for Sparta are truly good or if the Gods will punish him. She thinks a wicked man would not worry about being wicked, a wicked man would know his wickedness and revel in it, enjoy it, take pride in it. His fear is what keeps her belief in his goodness so solid, a good man would not regret his actions, reflect and hurt at the thought of them. A wicked man would not strive to be so good.

She thinks on his question even though she knows her answer, because he would wish her to, because it is part of her dedication to seriousness with him. He tilts his chin down, beard brushing the top of his chest as brown eyes look for her own, taking in the furrow of her brow, the contemplative twist to her lips. Her fingers continue their aimless circles on his skin, a thoughtless action. His own are trailing up and down her back, every now and again they stop and focus on a raised scar.

“I don’t really care where I go when I die.” She finally hums, seeing the surprised flicker across his face at the prospect that she cares little for her afterlife, her eternity. It is a general rule in Hellas that no matter whether devout or questioning, people believe in the possibility of an eternity, good or bad, that death leads to something more, that you should be concerned about your afterlife. Kassandra believes. She believes in the Gods, she believes in the myths, the legends, the stories, she believes in Hades, in Elysium and Tartarus, but she has found their hold on her weakening with time.

She doesn’t care, Kassandra once might have. She once might have agonised over her eternity, over the torment or pleasures she would be given for her works in her mortal life. Brasidas had been the spark for the change, the person that made her fear dissipate, made her desire for an eternity of reward mellow. Whether Tartarus or Elysium, Kassandra cared little for she’d found her paradise amongst the living. She’d found her happiness with the family she’d put back together and the Spartan she’d fallen in love with.

“How can you not care, phílos?” Brasidas worries over the legacy he will leave, worries over the things he will regret doing or failing to do, the things he will miss. He worries over his potential eternal punishment, a deep part of him scared of the possibility that he was a wicked man, that his deeds for his home, for his Sparta were unjust. He finds himself sitting himself up and pulling her with him, arms wrapping around her strong back, eyes searching her honeyed ones for an answer, for it to make sense.

“Because I have found my Elysium here, with you, emós xíphos. If I go to Tartarus then I go. If I go to Elysium then you must be there for it to compare. If I wander Hades forgotten then so be it. I care little so long as you are beside me.”

“And if I am not? If we find ourselves parted by death?”

Kassandra lifts a hand to his cheek, thumb brushing over the scar that has been there for as long as she has known him. Eyes hard, brow furrowed at the thought of being separated from him after everything they both had done, after every year apart, every near death, every struggle. “Then I shall storm through Hades, Tartarus and Elysium until I find you and not Hades, Persephone, Charon nor Cerberus shall stop me.”

She says it with such surety, such strength, the sort he has seen from her on the battlefield time after time. It is that strength behind her words that makes him believe it. Kassandra would tell him off for thinking of her as anything but a mortal, as anything but Kassandra, but in truth she was a Goddess of her own making. A force to be reckoned with and it eases his worry knowing that the Gods would have to go through her to separate them and that if he was to suffer in the afterlife she would be beside him, sharing in her strength.

Brasidas lifts a hand to the loose waves of her hair, battle worn fingers parting the sea of strands and twisting them around his wrist, before cupping the back of her head and pressing his forehead to hers. It is something he does often she has noticed, a kiss of a different sort that feels more intimate to her than any pressing of lips that they have ever done.

His nose brushes against hers, his breath fans across her skin and she closes her eyes at the feeling of closeness, the ache of a good sort in her chest at having him here, like this. There were many moments in their journey where she thought her friend, as he had been simply her friend back then, would be sent to Hades. There were many moments where the thought that they both had any sort of future alone or together had seemed so impossibly distant. To know they had made it, that each day they woke beside each other to a sunrise and each night they fell asleep in each other's arms, that was the greatest gift the Gods had ever given her.

“If you are to storm Hades, then I shall be by your side when you do it, misthios…”, Her eyes flutter open to catch the peak of teeth beneath his lips as they curl upwards in that infuriatingly self assured smirk of his, to catch his own eyes staring into her soul as they had done from the moment they met.

“There is no one i’d rather dance beside, you know that, General.” Because it was always a dance between them, from that very first in a burning warehouse. Their bodies had always been intune, insync, they fought together as if they had trained side by side from childhood, as if he and her had fought together, stolen food together, shared a phoinikis together to ward off the cold. Everything had always come so naturally with Brasidas that she sometimes forgot how unnatural it was, it wasn’t until others, her brother, her mother, her father, would point out that their intuneness was unusual and then she would think again.

Those comments were less now. They had fought together many times, travelled together, broken fast together, laid together. To others it seemed now that they had grown insync through years of companionship, through lust and love and blood and battle, but they both knew the truth. That they had always been like this, that they had always fought together with ease, that they understood each other in a way that seemed so natural and yet so bizarre at the same time.

“We do dance rather well together, emós phyláttȯ.” It is punctuated with a twist as his calf wraps behind her knee, arms behind her back and he wrestles her to her back, resting over her, arms either side of her head. His shoulder is weaker these days, heavy scaring reminding her of what had nearly come to pass, but they are still strong and defined as she trails her fingers over them.

“Do you...do you think of that warehouse in Korinth as much as I?” She finds herself wandering back so often. The heat of the flames on her back, the heat in her blood from battle, and the heat in her eyes as they watched him meet her movements with ease. He had seemed everything a Spartan should be. It had made her proud. He was compassionate but strong, skilled, a better soldier than any she had ever come across. She had wanted many people in her time, briefly and without much thought, but Brasidas had been the first to capture her body and soul without effort, without a word. She had wanted him from that first dance, she had wanted to impress him, listen to him, so she listened as he asked for the Monger to die quietly, she listened to every plan, every thought that crossed his beautiful capable mind. She was lucky he was as formidable as he was, or else she might have made poor decisions thanks to the meddling of Eros, Pothos or Anteros. She wondered if every God of love and passion had sat together and agreed to meddle, to place Brasidas in her path. Perhaps they had hoped for tragedy, more human pain to feed their entertainment or perhaps they had known that she would finally be content, perhaps he had been her reward.

His eyes burn like they did back then and she knows without a word his answer, yes more than I’d care to admit, he would say. But, he doesn’t say a word, just lifts the corner of his mouth into a smirk before lowering his lips to hers. It is still there burning beneath their skin, still there as her hands claw at his back and his beard burns her skin, that unspoken fire that they have shared since their first meeting, that connects them. It is that fire that makes her certain that she will not be separated from him after they have left this mortal coil, it is that bond that gives her the strength to know she would fight the Gods themselves to stay by his side. It is that same bond that has her almost certain the Gods put them together for a reason, that they had no intention of separating them. He was a gift to her and she hopes she is a gift to him and not a curse.

-----------

Translations: emós xíphos - My sword emós phyláttȯ - Literally my guard, roughly my shield phílos - Beloved, Darling Phoinikis - the red cape given to boys in the agoge

#kassidas #Kassandra x brasidas #kassandra #brasidas #assassin's creed: odyssey #Assassin's Creed #ship fic

12 notes · View notes

maxodinson · 4 years

Photo

Carl Jungs Archetypes

Below I have attached a list, fro my research, of all 12 of Carl Jung's archetypes. This list helped me understand the core personalities of each of the 12 archetypes.

1. The Innocent

Motto: Free to be you and me

Core desire: to get to paradise

Goal: to be happy

Greatest fear: to be punished for doing something bad or wrong

Strategy: to do things right

Weakness: boring for all their naive innocence

Talent: faith and optimism

The Innocent is also known as: Utopian, traditionalist, naive, mystic, saint, romantic, dreamer.

2. The Everyman

Motto: All men and women are created equal

Core Desire: connecting with others

Goal: to belong

Greatest fear: to be left out or to stand out from the crowd

Strategy: develop ordinary solid virtues, be down to earth, the common touch

Weakness: losing one’s own self in an effort to blend in or for the sake of superficial relationships

Talent: realism, empathy, lack of pretense

The Everyman is also known as: The good old boy, regular guy/girl, the person next door, the realist, the working stiff, the solid citizen, the good neighbor, the silent majority.

3. The Hero

Motto: Where there’s a will, there’s a way

Core desire: to prove one’s worth through courageous acts

Goal: expert mastery in a way that improves the world

Greatest fear: weakness, vulnerability, being a “chicken”

Strategy: to be as strong and competent as possible

Weakness: arrogance, always needing another battle to fight

Talent: competence and courage

The Hero is also known as: The warrior, crusader, rescuer, superhero, the soldier, dragon slayer, the winner and the team player.

4. The Caregiver

Motto: Love your neighbour as yourself

Core desire: to protect and care for others

Goal: to help others

Greatest fear: selfishness and ingratitude

Strategy: doing things for others

Weakness: martyrdom and being exploited

Talent: compassion, generosity

The Caregiver is also known as: The saint, altruist, parent, helper, supporter.

5. The Explorer

Motto: Don’t fence me in

Core desire: the freedom to find out who you are through exploring the world

Goal: to experience a better, more authentic, more fulfilling life

Biggest fear: getting trapped, conformity, and inner emptiness

Strategy: journey, seeking out and experiencing new things, escape from boredom

Weakness: aimless wandering, becoming a misfit

Talent: autonomy, ambition, being true to one’s soul

The explorer is also known as: The seeker, iconoclast, wanderer, individualist, pilgrim.

6. The Rebel

Motto: Rules are made to be broken

Core desire: revenge or revolution

Goal: to overturn what isn’t working

Greatest fear: to be powerless or ineffectual

Strategy: disrupt, destroy, or shock

Weakness: crossing over to the dark side, crime

Talent: outrageousness, radical freedom

The Outlaw is also known as: The rebel, revolutionary, wild man, the misfit, or iconoclast.

7. The Lover

Motto: You’re the only one

Core desire: intimacy and experience

Goal: being in a relationship with the people, work and surroundings they love

Greatest fear: being alone, a wallflower, unwanted, unloved

Strategy: to become more and more physically and emotionally attractive

Weakness: outward-directed desire to please others at risk of losing own identity

Talent: passion, gratitude, appreciation, and commitment

The Lover is also known as: The partner, friend, intimate, enthusiast, sensualist, spouse, team-builder.

8. The Creator/Artist

Motto: If you can imagine it, it can be done

Core desire: to create things of enduring value

Goal: to realize a vision

Greatest fear: mediocre vision or execution

Strategy: develop artistic control and skill

Task: to create culture, express own vision

Weakness: perfectionism, bad solutions

Talent: creativity and imagination

The Creator is also known as: The artist, inventor, innovator, musician, writer or dreamer.

9. The Jester

Motto: You only live once

Core desire: to live in the moment with full enjoyment

Goal: to have a great time and lighten up the world

Greatest fear: being bored or boring others

Strategy: play, make jokes, be funny

Weakness: frivolity, wasting time

Talent: joy

The Jester is also known as: The fool, trickster, joker, practical joker or comedian.

10. The Sage

Motto: The truth will set you free

Core desire: to find the truth.

Goal: to use intelligence and analysis to understand the world.

Biggest fear: being duped, misled—or ignorance.

Strategy: seeking out information and knowledge; self-reflection and understanding thought processes.

Weakness: can study details forever and never act.

Talent: wisdom, intelligence.

The Sage is also known as: The expert, scholar, detective, advisor, thinker, philosopher, academic, researcher, thinker, planner, professional, mentor, teacher, contemplative.

11. The Magician

Motto: I make things happen.

Core desire: understanding the fundamental laws of the universe

Goal: to make dreams come true

Greatest fear: unintended negative consequences

Strategy: develop a vision and live by it

Weakness: becoming manipulative

Talent: finding win-win solutions

The Magician is also known as:The visionary, catalyst, inventor, charismatic leader, shaman, healer, medicine man.

12. The Ruler

Motto: Power isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.

Core desire: control

Goal: create a prosperous, successful family or community

Strategy: exercise power

Greatest fear: chaos, being overthrown

Weakness: being authoritarian, unable to delegate

Talent: responsibility, leadership

The Ruler is also known as: The boss, leader, aristocrat, king, queen, politician, role model, manager or administrator.

#MP1

3 notes · View notes

ayearinfaith · 5 years

Photo

𝗔 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗙𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟬: 𝗦𝗮𝗺̣𝘀𝗮̄𝗿𝗮

Saṃsāra is a concept found in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism, as well as other native faiths of the Indian subcontinent. Etymologically the word means something like “wandering”, implying an aimless and cyclical motion. This refers to the cycle of life and rebirth central to these religions and is tied closely to other common concepts such as Karma and Moksha. This is a complex religious and philosophical concept, so as with my other posts please do not take my word as some form of canon. This is simply a generic overview.

𝗔𝗻 𝗢𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻

Due to the words implications of fluid motion and transition, Saṃsāra is often metaphorically spoken of as a sea. It is also, across all religions, a thing to escape from. Though traditions vary considerably on the exact nature of existence they all agree that it is ultimately one of suffering, and thus escape from it is the ultimate goal. This can generally be done by a mixture of tempering ones Karma, itself a complex concept I will roughly summarize here as “cause and effect”, and pursuing enlightenment. The release from Saṃsāra is known as either Moksha or Nirvana.

𝗦𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗻

In Hinduism and Jainism the soul or “atman” is seen as something that is true, and therefore permanent and unchanging. It is this soul that transfers between such ephemeral things like bodies and personas. Some schools of Buddhism differ, not believing in a permanent soul but rather a single continuous consciousness that is transmitted across lives. There are many things that can impact an individual’s journey through Saṃsāra, but the big player is generally Karma. As mentioned above, Karma is a significant inter-faith concept and I would be a fool to try and properly summarize it in another concept’s entry. Put in brutally simplistic terms, good deeds and intentions are good Karma, bad deeds and intentions are bad Karma. Good Karma pushes an individual towards more pleasant future lives while bad Karma dooms individuals towards worse lives. This force is not entirely a fair one, as it is acknowledged in Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain traditions that not all lives have equal opportunities to accrue good and bad Karma; how exactly is a deer, who spends most of its time living in fear of predators and attempting to find food, supposed to find the time to pursue good deeds? And as we are about to see, a better life is not always the path to Nirvana.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗶𝗿𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲

One of the most striking visualizations of Saṃsāra is the Bhavacakra, literally a “wheel of life”. These images, like the one on the title card for this entry, are most common in Tibetan Buddhism, where they often adorn the outer walls to serve as tools to educate the layman. The wheel consist of four rings, representing the stages and forces within Saṃsāra. In the center are three animals: a pig, a rooster, and a snake. They represent, respectively, ignorance, attachment, and aversion. These are known as the “three poisons” in Buddhism, the three most basic expressions of the craving that is the root of all suffering. Around them is a split ring, representing good and bad Karma normally represented by monks or gods on the good half and demons and hungry spirits on the bad half. The next and largest wheel depict the six realms of Saṃsāra. These are the six classes of life forms one can be born into. The worst, or perhaps more accurately, lowest Karma realm is that of Hell or Naraka where wicked souls are punished for their crimes, until being reborn once their bad Karma is expended. One step up from this are the hungry ghosts or “Preta”. These are depicted as malformed humans, with large distended bellies and small mouths and throats. This form is an outward expression of their anguish: they are filled with desires they cannot fill. Generally, to become a Preta one accrues bad Karma via indulgences, whereas the souls in Naraka were actively criminal and wicked. Above the Preta are animals (some traditions also include plants in this realm). Being an animal is generally seen by Buddhists as a bad fate, sometimes worse than being a Preta, as animals live on instinct and fear with little capacity to move beyond their realm of Saṃsāra. The first of the “good” realms is that of humans. Though not the highest Karmic reward, humanity is the best realm for escaping Saṃsāra and therefore the most important realm to pursue enlightenment in. This is because humans have the cognitive abilities and quality of life to enable them to pursue enlightenment while still maintaining enough suffering to push them towards this goal. Above humans are Asuras, a class of divine being often compared to the Greek Titan or Norse Jötunn. Put simply, they are powerful and long-lived creatures who spend most of their time warring against the higher gods, called Devas. Because of their power and quality of life they are unlikely to pursue enlightenment, but are generally doomed Karmically as their jealously of the Devas consumes them. Finally, at the highest Karmic level, are the Devas. These are the beings normally translated into English as “gods”, and a number of Hindu gods are included at this stage within Buddhism. Though they are the most powerful and wise of the creatures of Saṃsāra, they too are ultimately doomed. Their great status encourages them to spend their long lives pursuing pleasure instead of enlightenment, and many Devas ultimately reincarnate poorly. Within the depictions of each realm in the Bhavacakra the Buddha, or sometimes a Bodhisattva, can be seen somehow helping to ease the suffering of those within. Outside the six realms, the final ring depicts the 12 Nidanas. These can be thought of a kind of chain of actions, each causing the next, each one contributing towards the imprisonment of Saṃsāra. Some of these will be recognizable even to non-Buddhists as bad things ex. ignorance, craving, death. Others are less apparent as ills unless acquainted with Buddhist philosophy ex. Being born, having senses, self-awareness. Holding the entire wheel is a great demon, typically either Yama, the lord of Hell, or Mara, the demon that tempted the Buddha when first attaining enlightenment. Either way, he is always depicted with a crown of five skulls, representing the five Skandhas, the five kernels about which attachment to reality may form. He also has a third eye, representing his knowledge of the impermanence and ever-changing nature of Saṃsāra, a nature he also embodies and perpetuates. Beyond him is a moon, representing Moksha or Nirvana, with the Buddha pointing at it, representing the path to enlightenment and the promise it can be achieved.

Image Credit: Mural from Sakya Monastery of Tibetan Buddhism in Seattle Washington. Picture taken in 2009 by Flickr user Wonderlane.

#A Year in Faith #Samsara #AYIF #Religion #Mythology #day 10

60 notes · View notes

travelx · 4 years

Photo

A long cherished trip was due. Amidst the cubicle and the numbers crunching around me, it was high time that I had a beer and witnessed the sun on my face as I breathed in the cool ( pun intended) breeze of the Arabian sea.

Being a “dil chahta hai” fan, it is quite blatant that i would go for a two-wheeler for my entire trip. I mean it is weird to witness the party capital without a bike and pina colada tees. In a two day trip, I structured my plan in a way that touched the two ends of the spectrum. At hotel Colmar I had the best hotel deal, the cheapest room with the richest service. A heartfelt shout out to the hotel employees for welcoming me so gracefully.

Of all the places to visit, I opted for the ones less visited for solace and of course fresh exploration.

The first day I accelerated through the lanes of the older Goa as we know it. The sheer architecture, the history, the culture and the people reflected a vibrant colour palette straight from a Wes Anderson piece. My hotel was on the Colba beach itself, and ironically the lobby boy had “Zero” interest in my trip. Dona Paula was a beaut, I sat there for hours in awe of the place and the craft. My first day was rather on the philosophical side. You stare at a merciless computer all day long and one day you have an opportunity, or rather you force it out of your boss, a poetic and philosophical me was bound to show up and it did. The beauty and ambiance of old goa complimented my philosophy. At the end of the day, I waited for the sun to set as I indulged in a can of chilled beer and a well earned smoke. Later that night, I entered the hotel. Jumped on the bed. Snored.

The next day was the other end of the spectrum. The early hours were just aimless wandering around the place. I have to say, at times being aimless gives you so much joy and peace. Later that night, my last night, I boozed around, hung out with a couple of russian party freaks and exchanged stories. As I sat there listening to their stories, it made me think how infinite our world is. It was until past midnight that we realised that it is time to part. I hated the feeling. I wanted to grasp as many stories and experiences I could in those blissful hours but all good things come to an end. Right?

My cheapest flight to Goa did more than I expected. My return via the Konkan train journey was a journey of its own. I would suggest my readers to witness the railway service at least once. This trip was undoubtedly my best travel deal and decision.

Here I am writing my very first blog for my possible readers, shackled in my cubicle. If my boss reads this and finds out what meaningful work i am doing in my office hours, “you’re fired!” is not far away.

3 notes · View notes