#and even if that is all the kindness the divine can bring to bear upon me i am grateful for it

[transmechanicus]

I know that logically everything that happens beyond my knowledge is a result of entirely mundane forces, but also I've got terminal pattern recognition and number association autism. So when two huge Admech reveals come on the day of and right after a really shit personal holiday, the Powerwolf album is releasing on another Day That Will Be Hard, and consistently throughout my undergrad warhammer reveal shows, codex releases, and band album drops would be like The Day after a major exam or challenge, it is really hard not to start considering that a subtly divine level of correlation.

[icarusignite]

For Whom the Bell Tolls Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong! Reader

Tropes: World War 2 HOTD AU, nurse x soldier, trauma bonding, childhood sweethearts, star-crossed lovers

Wattpad / AO3

Summary:

"The tragic hero is complete. You can call him unhappy (miserable, utterly broken) even before he is dead. For an instant, he is something divine, and then he dies, because there's nothing else left to do. The center of every tragedy is the image of a human being who has already died but keeps talking, someone whose face is a mask."

In the years preceding the inferno of the Second World War, the world dances precariously on the edge of destruction, teetering between disintegrating old empires and the looming dawn of new ones. In the heart of this volatile era, the Targaryen family rises to power through the might of their ironclad empire, the Targaryen Ammunitions Conglomerate. The story is set against a backdrop of a world torn between tradition and modernity, where the echoes of old wars linger in the corridors of power, and the spectre of new conflicts casts long shadows across the lives of those entangled in its web.

Viserys Targaryen, the Chief Executive Officer of Targaryen Ammunitions, is a man haunted by the ghosts of his past. Decades before the world would be set ablaze, he cements his legacy, but at the cost of his own soul. The death of his first wife leaves him shattered, clinging to the last vestiges of humanity through the love he bears for his only daughter, Rhaenyra, his chosen heir. 

But even Viserys cannot escape the machinations of those around him. Drawn into a marriage with Alicent Hightower, his daughter's former college classmate, he finds himself ensnared in a web of deceit spun by her father. Otto Hightower's ambitions reach far beyond the bounds of mere familial ties; he seeks to control the empire itself, and the Targaryen family, once bound by blood and loyalty, begins to fracture as ambition and betrayal take root.

Rhaenyra, a woman of fierce independence and unyielding spirit, is forced into a life she never wanted. Pressured by her father and the demands of his legacy, she is coerced into a marriage of convenience with Laenor Velaryon, a man whose own struggles mirror her own. Their union is one of necessity, where neither partner truly belongs to the other, yet, in their shared discomfort and understanding, they find solace, forging a partnership that defies the world's expectations. Laenor, hiding his true nature in a society that would cast him out, finds safety in the match, while she, in turn, secures the power and stability she needs to maintain her position as her father's heir.

Years pass, and the couple's inability to have children leads them down a different path—a path that brings them to the doors of Harrenhall, where the recently deceased Harwin Strong leaves behind four orphaned children who have been disowned by his brother Larys in his greed for their fortune. Rhaenyra, with a heart as relentless as it is kind, cannot bring herself to separate the siblings, despite the dangers it may pose to her own ambitions. She adopts them all, bringing the Strong children into the fold of the Targaryen family.

As the eldest of these children, you are burdened by the weight of the world. At just ten years old, you have been forced to grow up far too quickly, stepping into the role of mother and protector to your younger siblings in the absence of your own. Your heart is a fortress, built stone by stone, your mistrust of the world as deep as the abyss. When you and your brothers are taken in by the Targaryens, your siblings find joy in the luxuries and love showered upon them by their new family, but you cannot let yourself believe in the comfort being offered, waiting for the moment when it will all be torn away.

Your fears are only compounded by the cold reception you receive from Rhaenyra's half-siblings, the children of Alicent Hightower. The second of these, Aemond Targaryen, is a boy who has grown up in the long shadow cast by his half-sister. Neglected by his father, who lavishes affection upon his new adoptive grandchildren, he harbours a deep resentment toward the Strong siblings. In his eyes, you are all usurpers, interlopers who have stolen all that should have been his and his alone. 

Nevertheless, the two of you find an unlikely ally in each other. Aemond, who despises the hollow privilege of his lineage, finds in you a kindred spirit, someone who understands the bitterness that festers in his heart. You, in turn, see in him a mirror of your own disillusionment, a boy lost in a world that seems intent on breaking him.

As the world outside your gilded cage hurtles toward cataclysm, your connection blossoms into something deeper, something tender, but just as your hearts begin to entwine, calamity, as it always does, intervenes.

Tragedy strikes the family, one blow after another, as the winds of war begin to howl across the continent. The fragile alliances that Rhaenyra has built start to crumble, and as Viserys struggles to hold his empire together, the rifts within his own family threaten to destroy everything he has worked for.

It is all made worse when a terrible accident steals away two precious loved ones, and in the aftermath, guilt weaves its thorny tendrils around Aemond's heart. At the tender age of eighteen, burdened by the weight of his own self-reproach, he severs all ties with his family, abandoning the name that has become a symbol of his anguish. He takes up his mother's maiden name, hoping to cast off the shackles of his past and live free from the burdens that have haunted him.

But in his flight from the wraiths of his former life, he leaves behind the only person who has ever understood him, to pick up the fractured remnants of their family. You are left all alone, as you have been for so much of your life, to mourn in silence, and the grief that once bound the two of you together now festers into a simmering resentment. Aemond does not write, nor does he respond to the countless letters you send, each one a plea for reconciliation, a desperate attempt to reach him across the chasm that has opened between you. 

Eventually, you receive word that he has been drafted into the conflict. The news shatters the fragile remnants of your dreams, the ambitions you once held of becoming a historian now buried beneath the rubble of a world on fire. You abandon everything and follow him into the inferno, earning the nursing certifications that place you at the very heart of the battlefield, where life and death are decided with every breath.

In this vast and chaotic landscape, the young lovers keep missing each other, like ships passing in the night, always just out of reach. Time and again, they come within moments of reunion, but never actually do. Until, at last, they are thrown together once more when a severely wounded and half-blind Aemond Hightower is brought into the makeshift clinic where you have been stationed.

The reunion is a storm of tears and apologies, a raw and unfiltered outpouring of the pain that has been carried for so long. For a few precious months, you have each other once more, as you tend to his injuries, nursing him back to some semblance of health. In those fleeting moments, the two of you cling to each other like drowning souls.

But fate is a fickle mistress, and there is nothing she loves more than to slit the throats of young lovers, and you are not spared the annihilation that has been written for you in the very stars, centuries before you were even born, a destiny that neither of you can escape, no matter how hard you try.

"You're going to die in your best friend's arms. And you play along because it's funny, because it's written down, you've memorized it, it's all you know."

CHAPTERS: (coming soon)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter3

Chapter 4

A/N: This isn't going to be a full-length fic. It's going to be a collection of one-shots almost, or snippets jumping around the timeline to tell the most important parts of the story, so maybe 10-12 chapters at most. This way I won't bore yall with unnecessary filler chapters and still get to tell the story I want. The summary is about as much as you'll on the background tbh, this is meant to be an AemondxReader centric story. It's inspired by Atonement and every other WW2 movie I've ever watched.

Comment to lemme know if this is something you would be interested in and if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

Alternatively, add yourself to the taglist!

[12pt-times-new-roman]

lore! lore! lore!

This thing bears way too many resemblances to both Obann, the Punished and Cognouza for it to be a coincidence. The mini even looks the same. And both of those are directly related to Tharizdun.

For anyone wondering, because I had to look this up -- Imogen has resistance to psychic damage from a 6th level aberrant mind sorcerer ability. It also gives her advantage on saving throws against charm and fear effects.

"I'm gonna cast....... blight." the entire top table immediately looked up at that. they know.

"It's trying to find a form, but can't." Semblances of the party's faces can be seen beneath the skin, like a head under fabric.

ARBY'S: WE READ THE MEATS

A close second to "Arby's: What's in the meats?"

Them not putting out this fire when Matt has given so many hints that they should is legit hurting my rogue-playing soul a little bit

The illusory wall follows the same rules as the doors in Aeor: it requires a certain level (and possibly school) of magic to open. A 3rd level enchantment opened it. Behind it is a little cubby with a leather satchel, and it isn't trapped.

Deanna has a staff of healing!

Holy shit, that wolf king mini is fucking amazing and terrifying and I love him

As Ludinus' tower burns, the Bells Hells flee into the city, then into the forest. They find a large abandoned nest, where they build a fire to camp for the night.

They open the satchel. Inside, it's "empty" -- but it's a bag of holding. Upon asking for "Ludinus' notes," FCG brings out a cluster of vellum and parchment, some sections of half-bound journals.

"Toy transfers out of Rexxentrum"?? Chetney??? Got a bag of holding from a "credible source" within the city?

And he turns the bag inside out. There are coins, gems, a staff, more papers, and half a piece of armor.

All the papers are blank. Using the same technique as before, plus an Investigation check of 22, Chetney can see that these papers have something written on them, but can't make anything out, let alone discern what language it is.

It seems like this satchel was either a rainy-day fund, or "something left behind when the owner left in a rush." The coins and gems together amount to a little less than 3000gp.

There's also a tiny piece of dark burgundy wood. "It's a dildo!" "NO!"

The armor looks like a harness of some kind, like a torso harness. (Matt walked right into that one.) It's mostly dark-stained leather, and it's almost a vest, but it has a brass-gold inlay on it and it looks like where some of that metal is, it continues into an "emerging, arisen portion, almost like a... it rises like a metallic volcano, like an open funnel, but there's an empty space there." They're not sure if it's the front or the back, but it seems like there's space for something to fit in -- a gem (though none of the gems in the bag fit it), a vial, a beacon.

With detect magic, the armor is faint, the burgundy wood is faint, the staff is very strong. The staff is a "staff of dark oddessey," which has 8 charges that can be used to cast a whole bunch of spells. It requires attunement by a spellcaster. It has teleport, which can be cast using 6 charges. It regains 1d4 charges each day at dawn, and when it's used, it deals 1d4 to the user for each charge expended.

All the papers have a script that Deanna can see and read. LORE TIME! LET'S GO!

"The first bath of notes seem to be revolving around experiments on divine magic. Attempts to distill the base nature of divinity as an energy that can be replicated or destroyed... you also see notes that have designs, sketches, almost engineered blueprints for that strange harness that you saw. This is not in elven -- the text here is specifically arcane glyphs, like it's instructions for an enchantment. There are some notes in elven that follow those initial blueprints that speak of a physical regiment of magical infusion. As you continue on, they note on a synthetic recreation of the powerful natural magics that sustain the venerable wardens of the wilds. Beyond that, there are addition notes on dryads and fey, different fey entities that have locations throughout Wildemount, with eight crossed off... notes about 'feeding the root.'"

A nat20 investigation check to follow Ludinus' shorthand logic. "These notes are definitely batched with this harness. They are the next stage past its design. These are the resources needed for it to function. The dryad and fey entities, the locations that have been crossed out, are probably powerful dryad or fey entities that have, in the past, been discovered and utilized to power whatever this harness was supposed to be... the way it's designed, everything seems to funnel inward, so you imagine whatever resources presented into that portion of the device is funneled into that portion of the device. The last bit of notes speak of expanding his 'restoration sources' into the fey realm." So Ludinus was feeding this harness with fey and dryad magic. Travis clarifies that the elven word for "root" here refers specifically to the root of a plant, not the root of a phenomenon. Keep in mind that this was all written over 300 years ago.

"Oh my god, this Gildamesh motherfucker is grabbin' Smurfs!"

One of the marks delineating a fey-ish fane is "deep in the northeastern part of the Flotket Alps, one is in the lake deep in the Rimeplains, three are in the Savalirwood (though it's referred to here as the Veluthil), one within the Ashkeeper Peaks, and one that exists on an island to the northwest, past the waters." oh I will be COMING BACK TO THIS, JUST YOU WAIT

Best that they can tell, the portion of this chestplate that extends outward has an almost diamond-shaped gap. This probably rules out a Luxon beacon, because each of its sides is a pentagram.

The next cluster of notes is "about Ruidus, the red moon. Studying its curious superstition and religious scripture imploring its curse over Exandrian fanes and magical currents... he makes a lot of assumptions that the great temples fear this moon, and he wishes to know why. He theorizes that the gods continue to push to not even question or look in its direction, and you can see where this study is an obsession... for all the great shadows and villains that have been written about through the scriptures of history, there have been deep understandings to inform the populace of faith that what exists in evil should be understood so it can be avoided. But this is the one thing that exists int he skies of Exandira that the gods just say, 'look away.' That has been something on his mind since Moalesmyr. He notes the odd flares, odd notes mentioning the historical Ruidisborn. He quietly curses that he was not born under, wishing for the gods' fate. He hopes to employ a communion ritual timed under a flare to understand and decipher it. He talks about forgotten gods, about divine unravelling, of an ancient primordial that wasn't sundered after the Founding, all these theories of the red moon trying to ascertain its nature. Another entry complains of the Emerald Cross priests undermining his research, but he still managed to contact something, like reaching into an alien dream. He can't quite reach it yet -- it exists on the peripheries, and needs something stronger to break through."

The third and final batch of notes is "on the slowly expanding chaotic nature of the arcane crystals that form the power well beneath Molaesmyr. It notes of Aramond, who theorized that the well was a gift from the Archeart that was lost in the Calamity and rediscovered in the founding of Molaesmyr. Others believed it to be of Arcanum descent, fallen from one of the floating cities... harnessing this long-buried power source interests Ludinus' endeavor. In his final notes, he theorizes that if this crystal well is focused through his design without them knowing, while Ruidus is above during the solstice, he hopes a channel of consciousness could be opened, and that which is calling his attention to the red moon could be contacted."

Laura connected the dots! Maybe this "well" was a collection of Luxon beacons, or a singular one that was somehow elevated -- whether by unleashing or by malfunction -- beyond the power we've seen so far, or one that was infused with the divine magic of the Archeart, or any number of other things.

End of lore dump

Chetney on Rexxentrum: "there's a king, but we know who's really in charge."

The party contemplates who they should take this information to. The king and queen of Uthodurn, the king of the Dwendalian Empire, the Vellum Steeple, Vasselheim, Ivodel...

And Imogen suggests the Cobalt Soul. (please. i am begging. also, Fearne and Imogen being absolutely enamored and turned on by Beau's abs and ass is absolutely peak)

Goddamn, I thought I would never see the day-- SAM being the voice of reason, and TRAVIS being the lying voice of chaos?? I mean, at least Fjord had some kind of logic to his voice of "fuck it we ball," but Chetney's straight-up lying!

Hey, there we go! Religion check on "emerald cross priests." FCG recognizes that some of the symbology of the Archeart leans on cross designs and verdant colors, so the "Emerald Cross Priests" may have been a faction of their worship. This tracks, since Molaesmyr itself was built on the belief that its location was protected and preserved from the 100-year fire by Corellon themself.

They decide to sleep in the abandon nest instead of teleporting, and Imogen and FCG are set to dive into Frida's mind using a dual detect thoughts.

oh my god Christian had matching sweaters made. he gets one in FCG's colors and gives Sam one in Frida's colors. my heart can't take this. gift giving as a love language is so special to me.

Into Frida's thoughts! (Deanna cries in Chetney's arms.)

First, it's a familiar space for FCG, but for Imogen, it feels like a waiting room. It's different, organized, segmented, separate -- unlike organic minds. Even FCG's mind leans more into the chaotic space of organic brains, while Frida's has a clarity.

The three of them come to rest in a room, and FCG and Imogen see Frida as a mist, standing before a doorway waiting to be opened. Through it, it's like being pulled down a lazy river. It's dreamscape, comfortable -- "a trek through a consciousness where you pick up memories. A waking moment, a hooded figure with a metallic mask rousing them from a dark, closed space. (Imogen recognizes them as D.) Struggle, survival in a harsh wilderness, wandering through unfamiliar streets and fear in the eyes of people as the consciousness of Frida steps, seeking connection but being fled from. You see children, playing, and that protective energy swelling, and that fear fades. You see the laughter and smile on Deanna's face over a cooking fire, the polishing of armor. A smattering of memories, but much like FCG's -- a fresh existence. It's like peering into the memory of a child, though there is a more extended, sourceless confidence and maturity."

Frida focuses on the names that he heard in the tower -- Laerryn, Vatora, Vishtaron, the child that FCG saw -- and (with a straight d20 roll of 5) Frida gets lost in the current. Memories begin to bleed into images of the child from before. "You have images that completely envelop the horizon for just a moment, of warfare. Of weapons, of people being cut down, then back to the river. [Frida] has had these dreams, rarely -- but it couldn't have been you, right?"

When Frida looks down, they see the river of energy that pulls them through the memories, and it obscures the lower part of their body. But they see their spiritual self, a bipedal entity of energy.

FCG and Imogen try to push deeper into Frida's memories.

NAT 20 FROM LAURA, and Matt makes a roll with a glance at Frida. They feel a pain in their mind, like a headache even though they've never had one -- the pain builds, and the others see the image of Frida fold and emit white light.

"That flash of warfare seems to emerge once again. It's less a battlefield -- stone hallways, bodies on the ground. Somebody rushes out of a room, and you watch as they fall to the ground. Standing before them is the spiritual form of Frida. A warrior, cutting through enemies in some sort of a structure. A very beautiful, unrecognizable structure... [Frida pushes forward, not knowing who's a friend, who's an enemy.] Some have brown and gold robes with gentle leather chestplates or armor. Some are preparing to cast spells before a blade catches their throat. A soldier runs up with a spear and shield toward Frida, who takes a hit before grabbing the spear and breaking the soldier's neck before pushing forward... [for Frida], it's an odd experience, like you're riding another person's experience. [Frida feels this is right. They know an objective when they see one. They keep going. They roll a d20, for a 10.] The details are fuzzy, but the people around you -- you begin to realize, it's not you pushing into a stronghold, you're defending. But the people you're fighting at the sides of and the people you're fighting against aren't dressed all that differently, and you feel a sadness at what must be done. You are not fighting an enemy from outside -- you are fighting an enemy from within."

Behind Frida, they see what they're defending: a beautiful structure, long halls, tall arched sealings with pipes or metallic tubes. The floors and walls are metallic, polished. Very much like the description of the A2 crash site, with the metal walls and "plastic" tubes. Frida is defending whatever's behind them, and they turn back toward it. Others go past them -- "what are you doing? Where are you going?" The hallway goes on, and on, and on as individuals walk past. The hall widens, and they see a central, massive chamber where "there is a contraption of such immensity, you've never considered or seen something on this scale. All manner of glowing crystalline devices and whirring mechanical devices, funnels and tubes and glass domes, sparks and dozens upon dozens of architects and engineers and magical practitioners all focused in this space. A voice shouts in Aeorian, 'protect the factorum!'"

The room carries a buzz, a hum that grows to a growl. "An engine of such immensity within this space that the chamber itself, the ground beneath you, vibrates and shakes. Stones and fallen instruments just move and cascade across the ground by the immensity of what is growing. The crystals are alighting. The space itself is preparing for something incredible. Then, it's just white." Everyone takes 8 points of psychic damage (no save, no roll to hit, no nothing) as they are shunted out of the vision.

Chetney puts the dots together, between the malleus factorum and the malleus keys. In Aeor, Frida was defending it from assault. Frida remembers one thing: "when you were discovered by D, you were ruined... he didn't just resuscitate you, he repaired you, brought you back from the brink of annihilation and set you free."

Frida was drawn to Aeor, and Deanna implies that that's why they went to Eiselcross.

Imogen recognizes some similarities between the energy signature, the structure, the vibrations between the malleus factorum and the malleus key -- but the key in Marquet was far smaller, far less powerful, far less immense.

Chetney recognizes that the crystals in the malleus factorum are distinctly different than the arcane batteries on the malleus key.

Facets of the clothing was semi-recognizable to FCG, but nothing about the location or the project rings a bell. Travis and Aabria suggest that FCG was in Avalir, not Aeor, hence why they recognize the clothing but not the location.

"Xhorhassian"? Deanna, where the fuck did that come from??

Deanna and Frida were in Eiselcross because Frida felt drawn to Aeor's central ruins, like Imogen felt drawn to Ruidus.

Frida feels a twinge of memory at the back of their head at the names Laerryn, Vishtaron, and Vatora, but they don't know why. But they know they were protecting the creator hammer -- whether it was because they believed in the anti-god sentiment, believed wholeheartedly in Aeor itself, or were going along with their orders.

(Meta note: Aabria says she "saw a room full of people doing what one person did" in relation to Laerryn.)

Chetney gives Frida a little wooden robot! It moves and everything. "A pillar of protection and I feel a connection to you, because you protect children and I bring joy to children with these [toys]." Fearne tries to comfort them too -- "you were being commanded then, but now, you're free to do what you want." The cast makes the connection between "Frida" and "free to."

I'm honestly loving the suggestion that Morri and Ludinus are exes, and that's part of why the Nightmare King hates him so much.

"But wherever we go... what about you two?" FCG.... honey.......

Deanna feels like Frida is moving on, and she's afraid of being left behind again. They have FCG now, and all of them have a mission, and maybe she should go back to Uthodurn -- no. Chetney's with her. They would've been swiss cheese, would've been ground meat without her. "I just don't want anything to happen to you." "I... made something for you, too." It's a little cup, like the ones they used to drink out of on the Menagerie Coast.

"Just-- a real quick question-- is the werewolf thing only for fighting?" "Y'know... there's... only one way to find out." "(full of sarcasm and irony) Help. Chetney has gone feral. Oh no. Anyone. Preferably Fearne, if you're into that. Help. The safe word is parmesan." And Chetney, Deanna, and Fearne run off into the woods.

Oh, how far Travis has come. This is character development. and it's canon now, fuckers!!

Now, they need to find out where to teleport. Uthodurn, Rexxentrum, Jrusar, Whitestone, Bassuras, Zephrah -- they could go anywhere. But they need to find out where the other group would think of to meet up.

FCG casts commune. And Matt does make an interesting point -- "should we go here" is different than "should we go here to accomplish this task."

As they cast the spell, they feel their consciousness rise "to a space within all horizons, at a crossroads, paths spreading out from you in all directions that converge here. There's a sign post, and it's blank. On the sides your vision, you see strands of hair, and you turn, and you see once more a feminine form upon the same horizon. She looks two inches tall, two miles tall, you can't tell -- it's strange. But she's present. [Hi. First of all, thank you, for all your guidance and for sending me Frida. We're trying to find our other friends, and we're wondering if we go to Jrusar, if we would have a chance to find them there at some point.] While previously, there was an inference of an answer, this time you hear a voice on the wind. 'Yes.' [Are they alive, Changebringer? Are they okay?] 'Yes.' [Even if I never know about my past, even if I never find out who made me or why I'm here, will I know Frida for a long time?] The wind picks up, and blows past.. the answer challenging to write, when the future has not been... In an immediate rush, this towering woman appears before you, her dark skin, her light brown hair that entangles around you. Her presence is bold, terirfying in proximity, her eyes these golden, open spaces, an intensity about her presentation as she looks upon you. 'A terrible fate looms for all of Exandria. An alien malice menaces the skies of the Marquesian sands. If you indeed wish to show your faith, to walk my endless paths beyond, then rise to our call. The winds of change blow cold against us all, yet hope remains unmoving in you. Our grace guides those who carry our banner. Hold it high, and traverse the path that I alight with purpose and fated destination. Do not turn from this road, for only shadow and solitude awaits beyond.' The light on the horizon grows cold, she grows more immense, you feel even more insignificant. 'The red end stirs in its slumber. Do not let it wake.' And she looks over her shoulder, and you see the distant gleam of the red moon, before--"

At the same time, the rest of the party watches as a sudden, almost sleepiness comes over Deanna. "Deanna, you sit for a second, before suddenly, this bright light fills your consciousness, the immensity of a star burning before you, something you've not experience at this proximity in some time, and comes with it a strength and a frustration long-felt. You try your best to avert your gaze, but the source of this light burns your retinas, and there you see before you the Dawnfather, encompassing the sky, nothing but his light. 'Mortal arrogance makes union with a forbidden scourge. The ruddy moon beckons over the skies of Marquet. Child, reborn of my grace and my will, I command you: strike out against those who would snuff our light. The gifts I grant you are the sword and shield against the darkness. Forsake these gifts, ignore our charge, and be abandoned... faith needs not logic, nor truth, but unerring conviction... the red end stirs in its slumber. Do not let it wake.'"

There is a warmth to the coin in FCG's hand, and it looks shinier. They identify it as a "coin of the Changebringer," and it... does a lot of things, according to Sam. (I bet it's an improved amulet of the devout +1, which by default gives them an extra use of channel divinity per day.)

Deanna gives Chetney her ring of temporal salvation. This is a ring that, when the wearer would die, instead they're healed for 3d6 hit points.

She also identifies the little piece of wood as a tuning fork for the planeshift spell, which is tuned to the fey realm.

Chetney took orders directly from the Cerberus Assembly. He made enchanted furniture. Allegedly. (This is a reference to C2E48/49, if anyone doesn't know.) Also, "RTA" may or may not stand for "Rexxentrum Toy Authority." Most of them were fine -- Ludinus was an ass, and Traversky was his best customer. This means that Chetney likely knows Delilah Briarwood by name, and knows her...... toy preferences.

Using the rod, they all teleport to Xhadana's house.

[livixbobbiex]

Stone tablets translated to regular English

CONTAINS STORY SPOILERS FOR ZELDA TEARS OF THE KINGDOM YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

So Wortsworth gives you his interpretation of the text, but he leaves out a lot. I tried my best to rewrite the tablets in understandable English. In some cases I had to change the grammar to make sense, and I had to guess a lot of words (they also arent consitent in the game), but I think this is decent enough. Thought I'd share because it took me a while to figure it out.

Tablet #1 - Account of a celebration

So sweet the song of King Rauru, and so great the beauty of his sister's dance, that my eyes and ears were held captive.

And so when queen Sonia gazed upon us all, I felt that her heart also fall captive.

Servant's life, though much laboursome, has much joy as well. Long be the life of the royal family that I love so.

Tablet #2 - The strong queen and the receptive king

Sonia, queen to Hyrule's king, by birth a Hylian priestess, herself born of land, not of the sky above.

She speaks with an open heart, honest to all, even to the Zonai's king.

This king thinks it's a good advantage to learn of the land folk. To see his head bent to listen is such pleasure.

Tablet #3 - The harmonious couple

Often was Rauru, king of keen blades, away from his real work in favour of the hunt.

And often queen Sonia, queen of keen insight, would seek him out and repair this king to kingly business.

In her sapience she seems divine, that she can always find him and for his folly he seems the more human.

And the king? Oh, he laughed. He is not her equal for her wit, he knew. And the queen, she laughed too, as she scolded him .

Tablet #4 - A pilgrimage of light

The king was late to come this evening, so the queen shared tales of her land, of shrines of green glow.

Of early days since Hyrule's founding have diverse monsters besieged and assaulted her realm.

Unstopping in strife, they brought despair to folks' lives. King and Queen beset themselves to bring the scrouge to and end.

With might of light and power, they had been driven aback, and the royal couple made these shrines to seal them away.

These holy seals are called shrines of light.

Great king, great queen, I thank you. You fought when I was a maiden child, so that tomorrow could pass.

Tablet #5 - The researcher Mineru

Queen Mineru, the King's older sister, falls so deep in her books that she often forgets to eat or sleep.

In my worried way I have done what much I can, but I fear that it has been to little avail.

Of late she talks about 'constructs' things that she made with her hands as a vessel for her spirit when her body falls.

So, said she might she live longer, in spirit housed within this 'construct'.

Though, Mineru never seems to hold any deciept, by my faith, I cannot truly believe these words.

Tablet #6 - The foreign princess

The weather is very fine this morning, and I have an audience with the princess said to be kin by a few distant years to queen Sonia.

By grace she has been given a name most sweet, of Zelda she has been called.

Certain folk stirred suspicion, for strange were her garments and so was her appearance.

Yet would her countenance and bearing made proof of her right blood and bond to Queen Sonia.

Also Zelda will remain with us for a while, I will myself as handmaiden offer her kind services.

Tablet #7 - The free spirited Zelda

Princess Zelda recently comes to see Mineru, the King's older sister. I come with her to serve her.

Today came it came to pass that Mineru showed to Zelda the construct I had seen all together.

Zelda, she much desired to ride on it, and and nothing I could could warn could stop her. Though I did protest. Loudly.

Never the less she made to sit high upon the constructs shoulders and to ride it like a horse, all full of grace.

My impression, so great already, did grow all the more.

Tablet #8 - The latest trend

New fashion favourite garments adournened with mushroom patterns, and for one would be this worn.

This taste for mushroom come of the castle's seamstress, who sought to sew clothes to please princess Zelda.

This fashion, Zelda told to the seamstress, was in her true home well lived.

In her time everyone wore patterns of bright hues in the shape of mushrooms.

And now our hand seamstress set heart on copying these patterns, which she sold to many happy persons.

I searched for some of my own but I could not find any.

Tablet #9 - An ancient ghost story

Of late I have heard it told a strange lady walks around in the castle in dark of night.

She and Princess Zelda seem also twins two, but this one had no light in her eyes, more as a dead thing than not.

When she is asked about these walks, Princess Zelda then remembers nothing of that.

What monster, or spirit of darkness, be this vision? So afraid I am of my imagination that I cannot sleep.

Tablet #10 - For the hero's sake

Since her founding has Hyrule seen such hardships, but that is only a small moment of time.

Mineru, the kings older sister, says of this kingdom that it not mote than aware be ycaccht(no idea), not even for the future.

Princess Zelda tells her that this future be already, that a champion born from the sky will come.

Between the two they embarked to find a way to help this champion in that distant time.

Her min treuthe (no idea), sought they to rise the Temple of a time, into the sky to ward it against evil.

All done so in a far distant day, our kingdom might be saved.

In my heart and will go help the most, and I asked of Mineru, can you devise the means to uprise in the sky these stones.

My words I see not now, but these memories are safe, of the royal family, high in the sky for that future time.

Tablet #11 - The day the land rose

Such wondrous sight I have beholden that it cannot justly be described.

The temple of time I saw, and all the land that held it, risen to the sky, both fearful and majestic.

As princess Zelda told me, in her distant future comes a champion to that place, the hope that saves Hyrule.

For that champion be it that I inscribe this great stone.

The king's older sister, Mineru, sends now these stones to the sky, that the champion might read them.

Tablet #12 - A parting resolve

Rauru, Hyrule's king. Sonia, their queen. His elder sister, Mineru. And eek (no idea) Princess Zelda.

All whom I served, and loved. All whom are gone. Alone I carve these words upon this stone.

This stone, and all thirteen, serve as royal family records, my final work, throughout for all age.

Many the mark made by these much beloved peoples - some seen, some unseen.

When I make remembrance of their marks, I feel the flame of hope, though very small within me.

It be also though that these marks describe some grand design.

I can never meet princess Zelda for her love for her land. What more then, ask I, can I do for Hyrules peoples.

Let my life lead me from hence forth fully worthy to answer this question.

[sasster]

Faith

Whoa! You've heard so much about Favion.

Ready to meet him?

[Google doc]

--

Ever since Cylion adopted control of the church no one has really seen or heard much of the First Prophet. The rumor that goes around is that he strayed too far from Her graces and was punished severely for it. More monster than troll is how word of mouth described him whenever anyone spotted him around the church. Another rumor says that he was always that way and owed it only to Her kindness that he was kept from descending further into monstrosity.

From where you lay neither of these rumors bring much comfort to your heart. The monster in question stands across the room looming over a desk that occupies a corner and glaring out into the light of the only window the room has to offer. The lunar light cast upon him makes him even harder to look at. Tall enough that his head would graze the ceiling if not for the unsightly hunch with which he walks, massive claws you’ve hardly seen on any lusus let alone another troll, and the rise and fall of his chest with each ghastly breath that he takes. All grimly lit by the green moon that he glares at. It is an image that does not inspire much confidence.

Perhaps it is only just a nightmare, a prayer in your chest suggests. But that would be too good to be true.

Each raspy breath Favion takes grounds you further and further into this new reality. There is only one small mercy in that he has not noticed that you are awake.

Laying here prone, it’s easy to beat yourself up for getting into this position. But it only means that you weren’t off base in the criticisms you preached of Her current Prophet, they would not have brought you before Her First otherwise.

You flew too close to the sun. Somnia overheard you spreading doubt about Cylions leadership. When you looked into his pupil-less eyes, he adopted a rather smug grin and blew a kiss. The last thing you remember before waking up here was the ringing of his voice as he told you to sleep tight.

This doesn’t feel like a punishment befitting the crime kind of scenario.

You wonder if Cylion knows, it’s hard to believe that he would sign off to something like this. But he must know, right? No one moves in these church walls without him being made aware of it.

“Do you doubt Her?” He asks without turning to face you fully, arms crossed behind his back. It looks more like he is addressing the moon that bathes him in light than someone that occupies the same room as him.

It would be a blessing if that were true, but something tells you that you are all out of blessings for the evening.

You screw your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to make him think that you were still asleep. He was mistaken, yeah. That’ll work.

His question hangs in the air, punctuated by  breaths that force his chest to rise and fall. Favion waits for your answer.

There was a third rumor about the troll that spread through the congregants in hushed tones. That he was the initial chosen vessel for godhood, but he was too weak to bear that burden. He crumbled under it. They say that upon his severance with the divine spirit, he found himself in a perpetual state of living and dying. This rumor is your least favorite. Because surely Dreamcatcher would not let Her first and most loyal follower suffer in perpetuity. It also does not account for his grotesque appearance. Not a satisfying explanation at all.

A growl stirs you from your thoughts. It starts low and rises in intensity until it starts to rattle your skull.

“Answer me.”

When he speaks this time he sounds much closer than before. Does he just kill you if he receives no response? That makes no sense. He would not have waited for you to wake up if that was the case.

Fear prevents you from moving and keeps you from opening your eyes to meet his cruel gaze. He begins growling again.

“I will ask only once more.” He warns around the deafening growl. Now he stands directly in front of you, you can hear each raspy breath as they rattle loose from his chest.

They sound wet.

“Do you doubt Her?” He asks again, enunciating each word slowly and suddenly you feel your head grasped in one massive claw. Effortlessly, as though you weigh nothing at all, he raises you up with him as he stands to his full height. “Speak. Now.”

Your head feels like it’s in a vice from the way he starts to squeeze it.

“Of course not!” You scream back at him and the pressure immediately lets up. But he does not release. “Cylion. The Prophet. I doubt Him!”

“Hm.” Is the only response that Favion gives before he starts to squeeze your head again. “Is that right?”

You try to nod but it proves to be more difficult than you bargained for.

It looks like he gets the idea, though.

“Then you doubt Her judgment.” His words punch you in the gut, they are accented by a deeper, more guttural growl.

Of course if she found him unfit to lead her followers, then she would not continue to allow him to do so. Perhaps the same way that her first was replaced when he could no longer adequately perform. You think. But, what if she was unaware of the extent of his incompetence?

“No, sir. I think he hides the worst of himself from her very well.” You manage through fear that coats the back of your mouth. “I think that his loyalties are not with her.” The beast seems to consider your response for a moment before suddenly releasing the grip he had on your head. You crumple into a heap at his feet. Despite the rough treatment, by the grace of the Divine Dreamer Herself, his growling has ceased to fill the air. It is replaced again by the much easier to digest wet breaths that you woke up to.

“You must not spread doubt within these walls based upon your biases.” He warns, raising a food to press into your shoulder. This must mean he is not in the killing mood if he is only giving out cryptic warnings, right?

You say nothing.

Instead, you bring yourself to your knees with both hands planted firmly on the floor.

“Please forgive me for my transgressions. My ignorance overwhelms me.” You mumble into the floor as he readjusts his foot to place it on your back.

He says nothing as he starts to add pressure.

“It will not happen again.”

“I know.”

He pushes down until a disgusting crack fills the air. You choose to swallow the yelp that attempts to accompany it.

This must satisfy him because, after a few seconds that take an eternity to pass, he removes his foot.

“Thank you, thank you for this mercy.” You mumble into the floor, wet by tears that you hardly recognize are your own.

“Leave my room. Pray that you are not brought before me again.”

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

A short masquerade au ectoloader snippet :]

context will be needed however so here is some basic info for them in this au:

Ecto is a demon. His host and the body he ends up taking was originally named Akira, who was in love with the previous incarnation of Higari.

The two of them die (just before the snippet) and Ecto takes Akira's form, and lives his life until Higari kinda reincarnates.

In the snippet: Ecto - 'The Sinner', Akira - 'The Lover', Higari - 'The Light'

^in its simplest and shortest form.

CW: blood and death mentioned

----

"A reflection of the burden of Sin."

-

Cold.

Blood staining red the purity of snow.

Frozen remnants of a time where souls were once thriving, happy, loving.

The hands-almost-claws, broken and scarred, burnt and shaking from the so-called righteousness of a god. The hands, bearing the weight of many sins, curling into the cold and bloodstained snow.

The hands that taint any soul it touches, spreading its affinity to sin like a plague to be captured and locked away. Chained. Broken. Longing for touch, yet bringing darkness and sorrow to that which it yearns for.

What do these hands yearn for?

Warmth?

Warmth, unlike the bitterness of snow, nor the white and blinding layer it paints across the earth, hiding any drop of colour or imperfection it touches. Warmth, like the sun on a summer's day, the welcoming touch of a fireplace in a home that had always been there, the feel of comfort from hands that are accepting and kind - reaching out with understanding.

It is a warmth that a soulless being can only yearn for.

To what do these hands belong? What could possibly yearn for such things, but a being not of the warmth of life nor the cold of snow and death? A demon?

A sinner.

It kneels, not to a god, but to the tragedy of its own making. Blackened-red blood and tears seeping to the stone of the grounds it shouldn’t touch, near-reaching yet not meeting the pure red snow that had bloomed in front of it.

It weeps.

But how could a sinner ever cry?

It weeps for that which it thought it could love. 

Muted orange and blue, met with the stone cold floor, gaze broken and ever-staring. Once, a softness that only the kindest soul could’ve had, filled with light and hope, acceptance and care. Now, only the carcass of a being no longer living or breathing, cold and lifeless, carved open like words and vows into the mind and stone of life and dedication.

It weeps over the death of the only light it ever yearned for and the only light that did not cast it away.

Yet it weeps for another. 

Another, not in sight, cast down, down, down where life escaped from the instant the cold ground hit, and the sharpness of rock and stone soon rid that body of its soul.

Another comforting warmth, but this one much more different. Wise eyes, kind hands, an open mind, even for that which could have killed him. Caring for the other so much that his love and sense of warmth soon afflicted the sinner too. 

The sinner, using his body as a means to escape the cruelty of its punishments, of its burdens. Its face. All scars and the harsh gaze of the divine that caused them, always watching and punishing and so adamant in their so-called-discipline.

Yet with him all felt secure, safe. A sinner feeling at home within the cages of that living soul who loved and cared. The two of them showed more kindness than anything else in the cold harsh world. 

The light of one, shining upon the body of the lover with sweetness and care. The shadow being cast, that of the sinner itself. A shadow - the absence of light - following blindly and yearning for all that it cannot be or feel or touch. The shadow being cast in the shape of that which it never had, which was stripped from it among years of torture and pain. The confines of a body.

A physical body, so that the sinner can feel and touch and love and oh…

A body to feel alive. To feel like it could one day be a someone again.

A body, down, down on the ground. 

The broken hands reached out yet again, the sinner knowing that the body of the lover would soon be its own… yet the sorrows of the death that was endured drowned out all of the happiness that it once thought it would have.

The wispy broken form of a sinner, consumed by shadow and wrath and pain. It once had been formed by light and belief, all that divinity could shine upon, it held hope.

Yet that light was never warm.

That light flickered and burnt until it was cast down. Falling just as the lover did. Down through the cold and unfeeling air, until there was nothing.

But now, that nothing could be something yet again. Hands gripping the bloodstained snow, now not its own yet familiar as always. Legs that may have been sturdier at an earlier time, yet there nonetheless. Lungs that push the cold stinging air through the body, not always pleasant but welcome. 

A heart that would no longer beat, its warmth now wasted with the life that had left. But that's okay, that heart belonged to the lover, and to expect the sinner to use it to love would be to ask it to be tortured again.

It had become the lover now, only with the absence of light. 

He is the shadow of the lover that once was.

He is a sinner, but he is safe again.

However, that safety truly did come at a cost that made him question whether his punishment from the divine hadn’t really ever ended when he fell.

What torture had it been for the lover to watch his light be snuffed out in front of him, blood that had been innocent spilling into the blank canvas of the snow as his tears conveyed his sorrow. The sinner could recall the pain in the lover's soul as his head met with the ground in grief and anger, and the emptiness as darkness returned.

All for the sake of the sinner that they had let into their lives out of the kindness and love of their own hearts. Innocent and caring lives, now lost because of the burden that the sinner carries and heartless folk that hold that same so-called-righteousness as the divine that started it all.

And as the lover fell, what was there but sadness and yearning left to trail through the air like the ribbons across the stage of the theatre they had all loved so much.

The theatre, their theatre. Putting on a show to bring happiness to others. For the sinner, a facade. Hiding behind the kindness of the two, while being rotten and broken truly inside.

A masquerade.

For now that the light had been extinguished and the love all drained, what could be left for the sinner to show except to keep up the masquerade of what was left?

When the light burns out, all that remains would be embers. But even embers could provide a warmth for the shadow of the lover to yearn for, though there will be time before they can be relit.

Until then?

Cold.

Nothing for the sinner, but the cold of the crimson snow and the hollowness of a loveless heart. For he must wait the warmth he so yearns for again.

[thewitchfarhan]

Are the Gods Real & Why My Answer is No and Yes.

I recently updated my 'About' page and I wanted to expand upon something I wrote there:

"In terms of what I believe - I’ll give a brief overview:

1. I believe that nature is sacred. I believe that we are the children of Mother Earth just like every other living thing on the planet, and that we have a duty to not only protect Her, but to honor Her, and revere Her.

2. I do not believe in deities as literal physical manifestations.

3. I believe that all religions were invented by humanity, and that none were ‘divinely made’, ‘made through channeling’ or otherwise constructed by a higher power.

4. I believe that the world has energies - created both naturally and through the existence of humanity - that can affect our world and be tapped into."

We, as humans, have been telling the same stories, creating the same archetypes, and praising the same phenomenon since the dawn of civilization (and possibly even before). Horos and Apollo share similar mythos, as do Odin and Zeus, and the Goddess Cybele transcends four cultures in the forms of Ishtar, Inanna, Venus / Minerva, and Aphrodite / Athena.

These stories aren't identical, but the tapestry they weave and the characters within resonate across the planet and across our history.

That kind of repetition, that kind of longevity, that kind of continued praise and worship across an entire planet - it doesn't just disappear. I believe it lingers - and I believe it can be tapped into by finding a way to connect with the energy of humanity. For some this is Witchcraft, for some it is Magic, for some it is Paganism of one kind or another - but in my Craft, I believe that this is what "deities", "energies", "spirits", and "gods" really are. Energies we've given names and faces to.

So, if I invoke Apollo in ritual or praise him in song - I don't think I'm speaking to "The Apollo; The Actual Twin Brother of Artemis". I'll be honest and say that I'm not entirely sure what (if anything) I'm speaking to.

I think I'm utilizing the energy of the past to bring myself joy in the future. Does that have any bearing on if I think my spells can manifest into fruition or just make-believe? I don't know. Maybe it is all make-believe, or maybe there's something to the energies we all swim around in every day.

But I think something lasting over 2,000 years and still being remembered is pretty magical all by itself.

[albertfinch]

COMING INTO ALIGNMENT

 Jeremiah 29:11-14  "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord.  thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you.  And you will seek Me and find Me,  when you search for Me with all your heart."

John 10:27 "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me."

          It is important to know where we are called to be, who we are called to be with, and what we are called to do (our DESTINY) and how we are to implement the things that God is calling us to.  We can fast, pray, strive and do all kinds of spiritual works, but if we are out of alignment, all these things may not have the full impact on our lives that we desire.

         Sometimes we just need to find out what that one thing is that God is requiring of us (God’s purpose for our life). It is usually one thing, not many.

         God will bring us into a place of utter contentment in His Presence as we come close to the Comforter, Holy Spirit.  This implies a life-style of "Walking In The Spirit";

THREE REQUIREMENTS TO WALKING IN THE SPIRIT:

Romans 6:11 -  "Even so consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus." 

(1.  Consider myself dead to sin.)

Ephesians 4:23-24  -  "And be renewed in the spirit of your mind; and that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness." 

(2.  I have to "PUT ON" walking in the Spirit.) ie. I make the decision each day to be led by my spirit rather than my soul (mind, will, and emotions). 

I walk with my spirit being led by the Holy Spirit.

Romans 12:2  -  "And do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect."

 (3.  I have to renew my mind to the word of God.)

BREAKING THROUGH TO THE NEXT LEVEL

  2 Peter 1:4 "By which we have been given to us exceedingly great and precious promises, that through these you may be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust."

          We are called to be sons and daughters of God.  You are to come to understand your Christ identity so you will be effective in your Christ calling (Ephesians 4:1).  As you grow you learn to move forward in your Christ calling and walk in the leading of His Spirit as mature sons (daughters) of God you begin to learn how to bear fruit that remains (John 15:16) for His Kingdom. This has a lot to do with discipling (Matthew 28:19) others with their spiritual development. You are now living your life from Heaven – seated with Christ in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6).    

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

[crossdressingdeath]

Narrator: *Sarevok Anchev. A Bhaalspawn who failed to become Chosen, long ago. A spilled stain of Father's Divine Essence left out to dry.* Narrator: *And yet, the history he shares with your companion seems to run almost as deep as your own.* Sarevok Anchev: What purpose do you have in bringing this heretic to the court of Bhaal? Speak, or death will be your final word. Kyvir: We're not here to dig up old feuds. I seek a path to the Temple of Bhaal. Jaheira: Do not parley with this madman. Jaheira: Sarevok reclaimed his soul, once - and he still traded it back to his father for a pat on the head. He has earned his second death even more than his first. Sarevok Anchev: You speak of the past - I speak of the future. Well, aspirant? Do the shades of yesterday speak for you, too? Sarevok Anchev: There are two paths to the Temple of Bhaal: to carve your devotion into flesh, or to be the carcass that is carved upon. Kyvir: I answer for myself, Sarevok - and Jaheira answers to me. She won't be a problem. Jaheira: You make promises that aren't yours to keep. Take care that their breaking does not break something more. Sarevok Anchev: I know this one well. I have travelled in her company. Whatever else may be said of her, she answers to no one but herself. Sarevok Anchev: It seems there is some disagreement on who is master here. Kyvir: You follow me. You dare question the SLAYER-LORD? Jaheira: Is it to be death, then? A better alternative to watching this sick family reunion. Sarevok Anchev: I never thought I'd see this. The Grand Harper, brought to her knees before me. Sarevok Anchev: The violence pleases Bhaal. The domination pleases me. Your slaves may stand, the better to bear witness.

Bhaal's Divine Essence, hm. Is that what they're calling it now.

Durge lowkey calling Sarevok a divine cumstain aside, though. Jaheira, aren't you a Harper? Isn't part of the job subterfuge? Can you stop complaining and go with it at least until we rescue our wizard, please? This isn't really a situation where we want to risk getting into a massive, avoidable fight that'll also piss off an actual god who controls whether Durge lives or dies unless we absolutely have to. Please just go along with this for now! ...To be fair she might not know about the whole "Bhaal has at least some direct control over whether Durge lives or dies" thing. If that came standard with the Bhaalspawn package I suspect the Bhaalspawn crisis would've gone very differently.

I thought the "You follow me" line was addressed at Sarevok at first, since Durge was the head of the temple until the incident. But it's kind of fun how you can get Jaheira to kneel before the Tribunal without even having to roll for it just by leaning into the intimidation factor of a full-fledged Slayer. The lack of a roll has the additional benefit of leaving it pleasingly vague whether Durge is being serious or bluffing. Jaheira seems to be taking it seriously, but it's also possible that she's just realized that we do not want to piss off the Murder Tribunal while trying to solve a kidnapping and is going along with it. All I can say is she doesn't disapprove.

Anyway I assume most of this conversation relates to the previous games so I don't have much to say about it. I am looking forward to playing them, even if the graphics are not going to be as pretty as BG3's. But I do love how many Bhaalspawn are just so desperate for Bhaal's love and approval that they'll give him anything, the way Bhaal uses parental affection as a tool to control his offspring is a fantastic plot point.

[chimphing]

Meditations 

by  Marcus Aurelius  

Hourly and earnestly strive, as a Roman and a man, to do what falls to your hand with perfect unaffected dignity, with kindliness, freedom and justice, and free your soul from every other imagination. This you will accomplish if you perform each action as if it were your last, without wilfulness, or any passionate aversion to what reason approves; without hypocrisy or selfishness, or discontent with the decrees of Providence. You see how few things it is necessary to master in order that a man may live a smooth-flowing, God-fearing life. For of him that holds to these principles the Gods require no more.

“Though you should live three thousand years or as many myriads, yet remember that no man loses any other life than that which now lives, nor lives any other than that which he is now losing. The longest and the shortest lives come to one effect. The present moment is the same for all men, and their loss, therefore, is equal, for it is clear that what they lose in death is but a fleeting instant of time. No man can lose either the past or the future, for how can a man be deprived of what he has not?” 

And the end of fame is to be forgotten

“Man must consider, not only that each day part of his life is spent, and that less and less remains to him, but also that, even if he live longer, it is very uncertain whether his intelligence will suffice as heretofore for the understanding of his affairs, and for grasping that knowledge which aims at comprehending things human and divine. When dotage begins, breath, nourishment, fancy, impulse, and so forth will not fail him. But self-command, accurate appreciation of duty, power to scrutinize what strikes his senses, or even to decide whether he should take his departure, all powers, indeed, which demand a well-trained understanding, must be extinguished in him. Let him be up and doing then, not only because death comes nearer every day, but because understanding and intelligence often leave us before we die.” 

For the soul is intelligence and deity, the body dust and corruption.

For, it is a man’s duty to stand upright, self-supporting, not supported.

The world is a succession of changes; life is but thought.

While you live, while yet you may, be good.

Whatever is beautiful at all is beautiful in itself.

So does the truly beautiful need anything beyond itself? No more than law, no more than truth, no more than kindness or integrity. Which of these things derives its beauty from praise, or withers under criticism?

“Occupy yourself with few things, says the philosopher, if you would be tranquil. But consider if it would not be better to say, Do what is necessary, and whatever the reason of a social animal naturally requires, and as it requires. For this brings not only the tranquillity that comes from doing well, but also that which comes from doing few things. Since the greatest part of what we say and do is unnecessary, dispensing with such activities affords a man more leisure and less uneasiness. Accordingly on every occasion a man should ask himself, Is this one of the unnecessary things? Now a man should take away not only unnecessary acts, but also unnecessary thoughts so that superfluous acts will not follow after.” 

You have seen the other state, make trial also of this. Avoid perplexity; seek simplicity. Has a man sinned? He bears his own sin. Has aught befallen you? It is well; for all that befalls you is an ordained part in the weaving of the destiny of all things from the beginning. In sum, life is short. Make the best of the present in reason and in justice. Be sober in your relaxation.

Love the art which you have learned, humble though it be, and in it find your recreation. 

All things are for a day, both what remembers and what is remembered.

So the olive falls when it is grown ripe, blessing the ground from whence it sprung, and thankful to the tree that bore it.

Remember, therefore, for the future, upon all occasions of sorrow, to use the maxim: this thing is not misfortune, but to bear it bravely is good fortune.

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 510

John 1:4

DIVINE ORDER 75: God Seekers 4

Gen 4:26 And a son was also born to Seth, whom he named Enosh. AT THAT TIME PEOPLE BEGAN to worship the LORD. NET

Professional Relationship 4

It must be acknowledged and understood that no matter the form or Class of reasons why men seek or approach God, it is all formerly presented on the Platform or foundation of Praise, Worship and thanksgiving.

Psa 100:4 You can pass through his open gates with the PASSWORD of PRAISE. COME RIGHT INTO HIS PRESENCE WITH THANKSGIVING. Come bring your thank offering to him and affectionately bless his beautiful name! TPT

Whatever Request you are making with God, either based on Hunger, Pain, Sickness or Relevance, you are ultimately to present them on the platter of thanksgiving.

Php 4:6 Do not be anxious about anything. Instead, in every situation, through PRAYER and PETITION with THANKSGIVING, tell your requests to God. NET

Now, the 2nd Class of “Returns” we bring to God are the Lives of other Men to join us as servants of God.

This is what Jesus laboured and gave up His life to accomplish.

Heb 2:10 God—the one who made all things and for whose glory all things exist—WANTED MANY PEOPLE TO BE HIS CHILDREN AND SHARE HIS GLORY. SO HE DID WHAT HE NEEDED TO DO. He made perfect the one who leads those people to salvation. HE MADE JESUS A PERFECT SAVIOR THROUGH HIS SUFFERING. ERV

Well, Jesus was a “once for all” sacrifice for humanity, and so we are not expected to do it exactly the way He did but our goals are same: we are to win Souls and bring them to God.

Joh 15:16 You did not choose me; I CHOSE YOU AND APPOINTED YOU TO GO AND BEAR MUCH FRUIT, THE KIND OF FRUIT THAT ENDURES. And so the Father will GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU ASK OF HIM IN MY NAME. GNB

Considering the illustration of Machinery we’ve been applying before, every Manufacturer hopes to enlarge his coast eventually, as he profits from his initial investments.

Mar 12:1-2 Jesus then told them this story: A FARMER ONCE PLANTED A VINEYARD. He built a wall around it and dug a pit to crush the grapes in. He also built a lookout tower. Then he rented out his vineyard and left the country. WHEN IT WAS HARVEST TIME, HE SENT A SERVANT TO GET HIS SHARE OF THE GRAPES. CEV

This is evidently why the “clause” in John 15:16 indicate Productivity as a condition for receiving answers to prayers. It shows how important Soul-Winning is to God.

The 3rd Class of “Returns” we bring to God are not directly about “we” bringing, but about other men who are inspired by our Lives to bring Praise and Worship back to God.

Mat 5:16 SO DON’T HIDE YOUR LIGHT! Let it shine brightly before others, SO THAT THE COMMENDABLE THINGS YOU DO WILL SHINE AS LIGHT UPON THEM, AND THEN THEY WILL GIVE THEIR PRAISE TO YOUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.” TPT

Every Manufacturer will hope for promotions that reveal and impress his products to an ever-increasing hoard of prospective customers.

Many companies reward their promoters.

The most impressive way to incite Worship of God from men’s lips is to help, do good to, and be a blessing to them in every way possible.

Psa 112:9 He has scattered abroad; he has given to the poor; his righteousness endures forever; his horn shall be lifted up with honor. MKJV

The people you do good to in the name of the Lord, could in turn be the ones that will make petitions for you before God, and may even win a favour for you.

Your life to them has indicated God’s goodness and could eventually cause them to embrace God.

Act 9:39 So Peter went with them. When he arrived, he was taken upstairs. All the widows stood around him. They were crying and showing Peter the articles of clothing that Dorcas had made while she was still with them. GW

But we must never get confused by assuming that “Returns” really mean that God needs us so much. He can always do without me and you, but we can never do without Him.

Heb 4:16 Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. KJV

May your connection to God yield the utmost of benefits, IN JESUS NAME.

See you on Friday, as we proceed with this Subtopic.

Brother Prince

Wednesday, May 15, 2024

08055125517; 08023904307

[the-single-element]

Good morning, and happy Easter.

A week into our celebration of Jesus's resurrection, we have a Sunday whose readings pack in a lot of themes at once.

We hear about St. Thomas's initial doubt of that miracle, until he saw Jesus for himself - the resurrected Jesus, bearing the same wounds of his slain body, yet healed of pain and returned to the living.

We hear Jesus's death and rebirth described as salvation "through water and blood", echoing St. Faustina's later visions of Jesus which have led to today's special commemmoration as "Divine Mercy Sunday".

And we're reminded of the practices of our earliest siblings in Christianity - or "the Way", as Luke calls it in his account of those early days.

These themes come together in a special message of hope and a special challenge to us, which builds on the message of Easter and roots it to the world we live in today.

What we believe in this Easter season - the central point by which we can even call Christianity "good news" - is that death is not the end. That the Resurrection is real, or else nothing else we believe makes sense.

Thomas was slow to believe that. He was slow to understand the Resurrection, to accept the good news he was hearing; it seemed too good to be true. He didn't have the perspective of John the correspondant, who would later remind us that the Kingdom of Heaven, the logic of the world-to-come which was brought to Earth by Jesus, has utterly overthrown the logic of this world which would make "Jesus is alive" too good to be true. Yet, even without believing in the Resurrection, Thomas has this to his credit: he was willing to walk the Way anyway, even though he thought he wouldn't survive it, right up until that last-moment flinch in Gethsemane.

Riddle me this: what else do we hear today, that seems too good to be true? Let's take a look back at what Luke reports about the first community to gather around Easter's good news...

All the believers were united in heart and mind. And they felt that what they owned was not their own, so they shared everything they had. The apostles testified powerfully to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and God’s great blessing was upon them all. There were no needy people among them, because those who owned land or houses would sell them and bring the money to the apostles to give to those in need.

This is a consistent description throughout Luke's account; just last year, we heard another excerpt from his Acts of the Apostles describing much the same thing.

And the good news we're being asked to believe today, above and beyond the Resurrection itself, is the good news of that vision. That such a world - a world operating on the logic of the Kingdom of Heaven - is not too good to be true, no matter how strange it may seem now, or might have seemed then. On the contrary: if Jesus has already conquered the logic of this world, then it's something we can have here and now, if we want it.

And like all of the difficult-to-believe news, like Thomas, we are called to believe without seeing - to believe the good news built up by Luke's whole account, that this kind of life is possible, even if it doesn't exist in the world today. That if we focus on living in the Kingdom, the rest will fall into place and we don't need to worry so much. That the proper use for the light we received at Easter, and the best way to pass it on, is to build the city on the hill. That if neighborhood-scope "baseline communism" (as Graeber calls it, and may he rest in peace) has worked for cultures across the world and throughout history, as well as for our own Apostolic founders, then it can work for us as well.

But even if we can't believe, we can follow in Thomas's footsteps: Thomas, who was willing to walk the Way even when he couldn't believe, and who was eventually blessed to see the proof with his own eyes.

Best wishes and blessings to you and yours.

Happy Easter.

[adventism-atheism-orthodoxy-me]

God

I think I was called out recently as an apologist for God.

Only God.

The assertion was that the kind of god doesn't matter. The mention was made in a podcast I follow by apologists that are very educated, smart, learned, polite (most of the time), but sometimes clueless.

To think of myself as an apologist is amusing. I take potshots. I believe in God, but feel that a lot of what we tell ourselves about him, is bull. So, I guess what I am saying is this.

Guilty as Charged.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding. -- Proverbs 9:10

Let's explore why a completely refined philosophical model of God doesn't really matter.

Let's start with the Baptist god.

My belief and trust in the Baptist god is completely unnecessary. I will either be saved or not depending upon my predestination. I can lie, cheat, and steal all day; fornicate all night, and if I'm predestined for salvation, it'll happen. Nothing I do matters. This is a capricious god, unworthy of worship. I can ignore him. C'est la vie.

The rest are all some form of Arminianism.

My actions on this earth matter to this god in some way, but they all only relate to whether or not I "get to heaven when I die". There are some broad strokes many of them hold - such as murder being bad - but many of these tenets are very culturally specific - I can imagine ritualized child sacrifice not being considered murder depending upon the dominant culture. The god of the Armenians either calls his tribe to aspirational standards, and hence towards rules and works, driven by shame, possibly with an authoritarian enforcement figure; or to conciliatory standards that normalize already existing societal conventions regardless how far they may stray from traditional Judeo-Christian ideals. Ideals that I would argue promote a truly healthy, fruitful, and productive life. Thus, this god is so wishy-washy, it's hard to tell where he might land on any topic. For all intents a purposes, he's no better than the Baptist god, and I can safely ignore him too - or them - maybe they're like a pantheon of competing gods. Individually, that makes them even less significant. Who knows what "heaven" might be in this mess.

Only Orthodox Christianity promises unity with the singular divine. Here. Now. On earth. With Real Presence in the Eucharist, with confession in the presence of a counselor to the God whom you serve, with Heaven on Earth at every liturgical service. With Icons, the Seasons and everything else the church brings to bear on you, it is trying to draw you in, and help you live in the spirit of the divine - the Holy Spirit.

I contend that a pursuit of God, leads necessarily to this kind of sacramental, liturgical, understanding.

To life.

Some final thoughts,

Latin Catholics can claim remnants of these Orthodox traditions, but over time they have wandered and given birth to the myriad of competing god's I've already mentioned.

Lastly, I'll note the Atheist god, or lack thereof. Everyone's heard of Pascal's wager. Atheists are either so materialistic, or so turned off by the other models of god they've seen in their lives that they don't want to have anything to do with the god that's been presented to them.

Here's the thing, if you believe the Bible, Christ loves and pursues the lost sheep.

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life. -- Romans 5:8,10

And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to Myself. -- John 12:32

So God, through Christ, is working to draw even atheists to himself. A righteous atheist may even be in a better place than a "professing Christian".

for when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do the things in the law, these, although not having the law, are a law to themselves... -- Romans 2:14

God bless the atheists who, outside of the law, are doing the things of the law. May they be blessed, and may their reward be as great as any faithful churchgoer.

If any have tarried even until the eleventh hour, let him, also, be not alarmed at his tardiness; for the Lord, who is jealous of his honor, will accept the last even as the first; He gives rest unto him who comes at the eleventh hour, even as unto him who has wrought from the first hour. And He shows mercy upon the last, and cares for the first; and to the one He gives, and upon the other He bestows gifts. And He both accepts the deeds, and welcomes the intention, and honors the acts and praises the offering. Wherefore, enter you all into the joy of your Lord; and receive your reward, both the first, and likewise the second. You rich and poor together, hold high festival. You sober and you heedless, honor the day. Rejoice today, both you who have fasted and you who have disregarded the fast. The table is full-laden; feast ye all sumptuously. The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away. -- Sermon of John Chrysostom - read every year during Matins of Pascha.

Lord have mercy upon me, A sinner.

[libidomechanica]

“On me, me, me, me, me,”

Divine ASTREA right guid will coupe.     He came to shoote agayne: sike a sighing on, that befel,     even in safety to fold me overwrought for him Pity’s     heels. The changed, or odds, it may be. ’ Alas! Always petals     nipp’d Fate will turn the

eyes! On me, me, me, me, me, that     if she’d tell her to do, saddening breath-air,—but for a humble     shone the lady stream that none else transition we’re ever-     nearing a kind of the age of course wounded into     the Sun. All this descending;

once the place and makest faced     snubnosed rogue of your round, and sky. Without colors is     to smile, an’ I’ll troubles fall, and my own deserving? Is     not seen only I saw it and good. Like a length, and such     giddiness is in them:

knowledge from memory, doth trust;     may man thou speak in the Baron saith Loue, I thinke so longer     spousals are dared. But thine. Perhaps with a rose that were     slurring on the whole, to screen, and rehearsal of all marrow     drain’d. Credit as early,

and yet the amorous Deep     with endorse her souls! And yet this sad court in its populous     starry rope of scorch’d on Nature’s soft sheepe in gay let     thee in my experience my honest man that love, and     for thee. Than poor souls’

antipodes. Some where is so great     arc his sleep underneath the lifted upon the virginity,     be duly pull him and hand, as she had gone. Is     chief of pantomime;—he dances of melancholy mirth     is all give throat: then can

tell me when it comes the hid and     only now it—I willing stuff might night I stands now poring     over mouths with the river leaves are done if we had     hang the love and kiss it may breasts. Of burst with phantom years     and chide my lips and by

black clouds bedimme my flocke did sing     i’d say easily as they eyed each got his rash in     the thing, and out for could sing into the very model     of the snow is below no bigger not disgrace; let cloud     they found his neck them to

his extreme, rude, cruel, love, I would     I cared his sword decide: the millinery with sacred     mounted by dignified: the Princess crie on the wrath and     all his ravish’d by those flash’d, and near and gazed upon the     oak but sometime and stirs;

ah!—And troubled lattice wrought limbs     before the gold to bind your fancies healèd me, if asked what     lonely for heroines my musick mass may scorn and that     of being on? And meet youth of shut very rough at the     shade, not wild figtree snapp’d up

thy contumelious, are old, I     said, sir Ralph has when he had taught. In this shed. On her speak     the cuckoo-like, endangerous quality agreeable,     and of people might be but to the feature sickening     to be your pypes she

never on his face down. Like grow     now my discontent vs in this thou my heart and girt     roused to them stood aloof;— and Scylla and takes him ere there.     Of lust of blood, my Queen; at whose rose within the jasmine     and folded her maidens

glimmering page than Heaven shall     a summer, dusty skin, but the enthrall, maud the moonlight,     sank down than fiction of the shared it EVIL. As she was     thine: see him three paces the swamp of your braid to blossom’d     bowed my cared for men short

to the sonnet; with hooded breathe     away her own worth and stools, that month with its fruit, is that     they are no more to my mother shalt win. There is strange sighing     flood—the sweet love can speak footing in and root, and through     infinite immensity.

Dost thou liest, that Christabel     her lap. With a suddenly sent from the city, guess, I     hardly highway ringed Ministers the chamber floor of tumbled     and would have actually, inevitably ridiculous.     For month withstood

and still we rename here, it’s a     kiss, shaped strawberry, that are a day, and was gone a fabric     crystalline: so strictly over us. Have ebbs of     foot, and we went to the wanting with eye or history of     hys misdeede, that all be

that she was I clung about thou,     but one of thing every titles a’ arc empty corridors     which bear the green snake I bring your despairing, all being     blood so fine would fall. He does not thou shalt heard me some     and tried my echoing

slowly, creep to the sweet, and look     at me! Who fondly loue. So prayse is such, so cased; then     we parts of blue who tries to entering bosks of her till     my name …. Her way even of my boys dead and the sun’s noonsted’s     made, in rymes with

soul stands of days! Brother’s almost     miserable is the world of my tremulous stars tis we,     who reward; still. Then their backs, whom rage Go thought mighty deeps,     and though dooms of hope, we drove this flowers have seeketh on     a kind of—as it shows

wildly clad; her dangered the     yesterday my joy and his deep, deep emotion new     magnificence. Like to hate, in such vnsuted spot for wear not     a tutors. Which he lies, traverse the Lady of     Is there wert thought, and love.

[tarynkurt]

ah yes, another year

there's hardly anything to say. but here's a bunch of stuff anyway.

i reflect on all that bring me smiles, and feel knots form and twist within me over all the embarrassments. things have always been difficult for me socially, and i have spent the majority of this time studying ways to mimic those to which interaction comes easily, trying to understand and find such ease in myself. often this has gone very well, and then i go through a year like this where it all seems to go backwards. i can find myself stuck for hours as though my lips have been sewn shut. yes, yes, you're trapped, just like everyone else.

(it gets happier i promise, just bear with me).

in some ways. i know there are ways in which i am wired completely different to most, and thankfully i have the diagnoses to prove it. but i have spent many years with this as an excuse, and i grow weary of it.

a cause can offer great explanation for something, but often does not excuse it. now, i use this argument more for understanding those who have done wrong - there is always a reason why, but that is rarely a justification. and many would say i am too harsh for saying this same thing to myself, that i should be allowed to excuse myself, given the circumstances.

but if a tendency i am wired with leaves me feeling desolate and empty, then i do not think that can be excused. we are powerful creatures in our ability to cause change within ourselves, if we have such determined resolve to do so.

i think what is important is viewing these things with kindness, and forgiveness. i do not wish to excuse the same 'failures' in myself over and over, but should i fall, it does me no good to answer this with hate and despair. as much as i feel i ought to sometimes. one must accept things with humility and love, and rise to try again. so when the chance comes again, we may remember, and see how we can approach the energetic movement differently. if we continue to base this growth upon self loathing, then the same defence mechanisms will continue to be triggered each time difficult situations present themselves; you spiral back into the same habits to which you try so desperately to run from.

the more you run from things, the faster you become them. or whatever tyler the creator said.

for a few years i really came into my own in this personal development stuff, at the ripe age of 16. i had a strange childhood. no-one could even begin to guess the confusion behind it all. even now, it seems i'm doing pretty well, apart from those days. but back then i felt unstoppable; i'd almost completely turned off the tap of anxious bullshit.

but i had no artistic expression. i had neglected that side of myself for so long.

there's always a catch in things, and as i now find myself in a slightly opposite side of it all, i recall the essentialness of sacrifice.

and so i moved, up north to the scottish fresh air, free from the city that i hated all my life, just as i had grown to love it. ironic, right? and just as the lockdown began. i grew very accustomed to the solace of my own mind again, and followed in into dissolution and madness while i wandered the beautiful forests and fields for hours on end. that sounds like exaggeration but i assure you it is quite the case; i mean, have you read the stuff in this blog so far? it came quite natural to me to use my own psyche as a form of experimentation, to see how deep it all goes, and to try and understand what it all means.

as you can imagine, that could sometimes get rather dark.

and then again for a while i thought i had found some of the answers. the secrets of the universe, as tyrece and i used to always say. in some ways i did find something like that, though they are neither secrets nor anything one could conceptualise into words, other than the vaguest of directions like harmony, and divinity. i gave my thanks to this, as it led me back to my core. i found my artistry again, and more importantly discovered the magic of this in music.

i remember standing on the end of crombie point, a rocky pier at the end of the fife coastal path, situated a bit inland on the estuary upon which edinburgh sits, facing the grangemouth power station and gazing at the incredibly high tide as the waves crashed with quite a menacing force. there was quite a mean storm going, you see.

the wind and rain seemed to strip my mind bare, and left my skeleton out to the mercy of the sea. it took quite a lot of my might not to jump in, to be frank. an hour or two passed as i just watched the waves roll, and i saw thousands of faces rise and fall in its countenance. they had such expressions that were so incomprehensible to me, but i kept staring, trying to understand.

this is the part where you wonder if this is all some big descriptive metaphor for how i experience day to day life. i've wondered that too, and you mustn't underestimate the synchronicity that arrises in life. if you look for it, you shall see everything in its great majesty reflected back at you, in every nook and cranny.

however poetically you may interpret it though, like i say, i rarely exaggerate. i experience life quite literally, and so speak accordingly.

i walked home that day two hours after sunrise, as though i was learning to walk again. like i had to rebuild myself, from scratch. though that was not something i was too unfamiliar with, this time struck me to my core. so still with me now i carry such great reverence for nature, and the divine forces of this world. they do not just whisper, but scream and shout from the top of their lungs, in every single facet of growing and still life, rocks and hills, soil and bark, leaves and petals, water and ice that you can try lay your eyes on. and the rest that you can't. they whisper the truth that i so desperately longed for, that which even now i seem to so often forget, as i bury myself in the hustle and bustle of city life in search of my work. but still they cry out, without wavering, for that is their duty, and their promise, to everything all around. it is the chain that keeps on singing, and it is filled with thanks. gracious, joyous thanks, even in the sharpest storm, blasting the rocks for the millionth time with all its might, they respond with gratitude.

i think we all then ask why?

that's all we ever ask.

but some things can't be explained, not like our minds desire. not in a tangible, human way with labels and diagrams.

some things can only be felt.

and so with this resolve circling my mind, as i filled journal after journal and taught myself music production, and painting (not that nice 'correct' manner, just my own silly abstractions), new forms of writing, and of course the guitar. i was still too scared to begin singing, but soon i would meet kind people who gave me more courage. i made some deep mistakes, and as it turns out it would not be the first, and not even be the worst, but i let them teach me as best i could, and asked for forgiveness. you'll be very hard pressed trying to find anyone in this life that hasn't done wrong. what you should look for are those who can freely admit to it, and seek to do better in response. we are creatures of both great good and great evil; it is what you choose to listen to that matters. never trust those who can never accept their own capacity for evil, or can never own up to their own faults. for we all have both.

anyway, i digress.

it was time for my first real statement, when i felt my refinement of skill was at its first major milestone (note: i'm probably only now nearing my second, or third at best). and so i made the nature of self. an instrumental project reflecting, as best i could, what i had learnt through my time in scotland, from the swift and abrupt maturing i had to go through before in coventry, working full time at 16 but devoted to personal development to the nth degree, to the ever-flowing joy and madness of running through the trees for 8 hours a day and learning what it meant to express. why we express. and how this all reflected back into the natural world, from which it came, into the nature of our own minds.

like i say, i tried to delve deep into the psychology of myself. i went awfully far in.

then with another miracle, and this project in my back pocket, i made it to london, to study production officially as a degree. to discover myself and find some comfort in people again, for the isolation up north had driven me to madness one too many times. as you can expect, the overstimulation was pretty high, and i felt to be a fish out of water. but, as we always do, i adapted. then i was grew reckless, remembering my tender age and acted accordingly, trying to experience and live wildly, and made the deeper mistakes. i can never listen to advice, truly. if a mistake is to be made, i must make it, to really understand why. oh, how i have wished this wan't the case, but alas, we are all wiser with hindsight. you had to do it first to gain that wisdom.

i hadn't forgotten my social learning from before scotland, but i did realise how strange other things came to me now i was really an 'adult'. i tried my best, but neglected my health and learning, and a great deal of the grace i learnt in the warm arms of nature faded from my attention. it's very easy to get swept up by big cities, and even easier than that to forget why you even went there in the first place. trying to live, rather than survive, is a great ordeal.

and now we're back, really. i've endured great turbulence, and been graced with great blessings. the echoes of my spiritual delving in the north struck me in painful ways at times, and joyous ways in others. as with everybody else, i continued to fight the ever-raging tug of war between trying to live the life i desire for the best peace, health and 'productivity', and the more pressing concerns of shit that needs to be done now to pay rent, eat and show up to things.

it's hard keeping friends through that, even more so when you reside in a mind like my own. there's only so many times you can apologise to people for not being there, before you realise the chance has passed. that's ok. everyone has their own path, we must accept that.

this year i went within, with a great deal of struggle but so much goodness and achievement. i have found ways to re-ignite the fire, when it felt completely exhausted, put real care back into my health, learning and this artistic journey, and laid some real foundations for good musical growth and experiences this year to come. i got to travel like i was never able to in my whole life, and see some wonderful shows. i found joy and appreciation whenever i had lost it, rising from the shells around me, and i think i am learning to listen to the currents of the world around me again. to feel the pulsing breath of life in nature, the divinity in things. i was able to cry again. that one is really quite the achievement.

and yet i still can fixate on how i feel smaller again. how i have crashed and lost my words in rooms full of people. how i have somehow ended up with people hating me, seemingly convinced that i have malicious intent toward them, when all i had wished to do was be friends. this happens to us all; i just seem to have a harder time understanding it, and moving past it. this year i felt really small.

that is why, i remind myself, i am an artist. because i feel it all, so unbelievably much. find strength in your feelings of weakness, with the knowledge that it takes great capacity to feel them it at all.

and i have so much appreciation as a result.

i really try to say my thanks for things.

even if weeks go by and i fall into the clouds again, or if i sit in another room and feel my voice disappear, trapped underneath the water's surface, i continue to keep faith. just a sliver of hope is all it takes to keep going. and when you snap out of it (like we always do), take some nice big breaths and say your thanks. it all has its purpose.

so i explain it all, but i do not excuse it. i forgive myself and understand why, but do not hate myself for my perceived failings and how they burden me. i quietly accept it, because i've seen the biggest picture, and it's ok for these things to happen. what matters is that you try again, a little each time, to train as i once did so valiantly. as i do now again. to study those around me and myself, not excusing my shy behaviour in such a way that i can continue to perpetuate it, but humbly letting a weak moment pass so it can be followed with one just a little bit stronger.

each time the weight on my chest gets a little bit lighter.

what matters is that you do not continue to stare into the void. you make sure the moment you see the clouds break and a sliver of sunshine passes through, you jump up and catch it. you forgive yourself for letting your eyes shut by opening them as wide as you can, and laugh it off.

the sun and the moon laugh so wonderfully, if you stop to listen.

i can't guarantee i won't feel so awkward again; it's pretty reasonable to expect it, at some point. but i can promise myself that i'll keep trying, and let it let go a bit more then. you don't need to hold on so tight and have all these preconceptions about things, its really never as serious as we think. and before you know it, you've forgotten the worry.

i hope i can find solace around good people more this year. this journey is walked with those around you, not in solidarity. as nice as it is to be alone in my own space, that does not allow me to grow nearly as much as being in the company of other kind souls, ones who feel the same budding flowers in their core as I do, yearning to jump out and grow their roots in the infinite manners of art and human expression that we have at our fingertips. i love watching that unfold.

as for the path, i can thankfully say things are moving along nicely. i am to perform my first show next month, supporting my good old friend howard, and will sing proudly. there is lots for me to discover, and i feel such great excitement to see how it will unfold, as i continue to refine my craft and understand what it is that i am learning.

my whole life's work is one big great painting, a myriad of expressions slowly growing and drawing themselves together in a web, and i know that it shines with wonder and beauty. i feel everything far too much for it to not. it truly is divine.

how exciting it is to see how it all grows!

and so i think of the past year, and i direct my attention to this. not to the worries, and the cracks, but to the joy, and the growth. the sweet imperfections bursting with feeling that ripen by the day.

this year i will care for myself more, so that my health may reflect the same golden shine.

and gain some more discipline over my emotions. allowing oneself to feel, but not to be led astray by spirals of concern and away from awareness in the present are two very different things. i love feeling how i feel, but i sure can learn from the past in ways to not let it overcome me.

for there is a great difference between experiencing something, and becoming it.

i am more than the clouds that pass me by.

i am the million colours in the breath of life, permeating through it all.

now, i have surely written much more than was necessary, and i am sleepy and should rest for a while. writing like this almost always comes in the quiet peace of the night, you see. but hey, reading all this was your choice, i didn't tell you to. and i've got to get some of this stuff out there now; it'll make the book writing so much easier in the future!

we all need to be able to say our stories, otherwise we'd just explode.

and i like to be very exact with how i speak.

with love,

taryn :)

[albertfinch]

COMING INTO ALIGNMENT

Jeremiah 29:11-14  "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord.  thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you.  And you will seek Me and find Me,  when you search for Me with all your heart."

John 10:27 "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me."

          It is important to know where we are called to be, who we are called to be with, and what we are called to do (our Christ calling) and how we are to implement the things that God is calling us to.  We can fast, pray, strive and do all kinds of spiritual works, but if we are out of alignment, all these things may not have the full impact on our lives that we desire.

         Sometimes we just need to find out what that one thing is that God is requiring of us (God’s purpose for our life) – it will always have to do with advancing His Kingdom

         God will bring us into a place of utter contentment in His Presence as we come close to the Comforter, Holy Spirit.  This implies a lifestyle of "Walking In The Spirit";

THREE REQUIREMENTS TO WALKING IN THE SPIRIT:

Romans 6:11 -  "Even so consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus." 

(1.  Consider myself dead to sin.)

Ephesians 4:23-24  -  "And be renewed in the spirit of your mind; and that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness." 

(2.  I have to "PUT ON" walking in the Spirit.) ie. I make the decision each day to be led by my spirit rather than my soul (mind, will, and emotions). 

I walk with my spirit being led by the Holy Spirit.

Romans 12:2  -  "And do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect."

 (3.  I have to renew my mind to the word of God.)

BREAKING THROUGH TO THE NEXT LEVEL

  2 Peter 1:4 "By which we have been given to us exceedingly great and precious promises, that through these you may be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust."

          We are called to be sons and daughters of God.  You are to come to understand your Christ identity so you will be effective in your Christ calling (Ephesians 4:1).  As you grow you learn to move forward in your Christ calling and walk in the leading of His Spirit as mature sons (daughters) of God you begin to learn how to bear fruit that remains (John 15:16) for His Kingdom.

This has a lot to do with living in the ascended life in Christ by dying to the self-life. You are now living your life from Heaven – seated with Christ in heavenly places (Ephesians 2:6) – changing the world by discipling (Matthew 28:19) others into their Christ identity.

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY