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#Post#: 2735--------------------------------------------------
Through giving, our knowledge and wisdom grow.
By: Riprose Date: October 7, 2012, 11:01 am
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Last night and this morning, Break, Aura, and I, wrote quite a
lengthy bit. We started out with a random first line, and took
turns, one sentence at a time, Aura writing something where she
saw fit. This has opened my mind, made me question some things
and rethink them. I hope you enjoy it.
Where to begin... Ah, how about with this random phrase? Any
story can begin likes this, I guess, as long as it has a happy
ending, right? I suppose this to be the truth, as no story can
be complete, without an ending of harmonious peace, of a sort.
But then, the world is a cruel place, and what would a story be
if it were not for the cruelty and sadness that it brings at
times? One cannot have a completed tale without strife, for
otherwise the ending is nothing to be accomplished. It is an odd
thing, the ending, for if we end as the character still lives,
does not just die, does he, or his story with him?
No, that is not the manner in which the character exists, as he
must have a tale worth telling. Some tales must be told, even if
they are not interesting, or action filled, tales of heroics or
romance, of battles in far off lands, or tales of valor against
impossible odds. All must indeed have a lesson, however, or the
tale would be quite the unnecessary one, would it not be so? But
what of the wandering tales, the ones without end, are they to
be discarded for they have no lesson or place to become
complete?
No, this must not be the case, as many tales would not end so
simply as to just convey the lesson of which our character
learns. Lessons, I fear, come and go with ease, just as
happiness and sorrow in tales and stories. Hence, one must have
many tales to tell, lest naught be learned from the stories of
which they speak. It may be even possible to say, that if one
has many stories to tell, that they too, have a story for
themselves, buried deep within themselves, waiting to be told.
This is the truth of the world, for all have a story, though
they may not ever tell it, and if not them, who shall ever tell
this hidden tale? I feel only those who witness it, who are
capable of telling someone’s life in simple words for any common
man to hear.
Yes, the words must be easily understood, for what is the point
of the story, if none can comprehend its lesson or depth, if
none can truly comprehend what is being told to them? But if one
hears the words, but does not listen, what then brother?
To tell a tale to one who shall not listen, is much like trying
to force a horse to drink, it is a fruitless task. But a task
worth achieving, for maybe one day, if a tale of greater power,
one that possess a ending worth listening too, should open their
mind to many things of marvel. Yes, for that is another ability,
another reason to tell the tale. To speak a tale, with such
force, using words that force someone, one who cannot resist the
many feelings and visions the story brings, is something worth
using, something to be cherished.
Emotions are paramount to the story-spinner, they must be aptly
utilized to the extent of their powers, lest the story falls
short of its intended purpose. Aye brother, emotions are a base
component of any story, for without emotion, things would be
bland, the words holding no magic in themselves. And a story, no
matter how simple, no matter how seemingly pointless, needs the
magic of emotions, to banish the monochrome that would dull the
wealth of knowledge that may be found.
Any storyteller strives to do the tale justice, conceiving the
correct amount of emotion, the correct amount of knowledge, and
the correct amount of complexity, for any story to be believed
and spread. Any noble story teller, indeed, though there are
those that twist the magic of the words, to cause an injustice
to occur, to bend the wills of the listeners with the power
behind the tale. These imposters, the ones that twist their
words, besmirching the story and all that is pure and innocent
about such things, are wicked and cruel, for they take away the
enjoyment, the happiness, the emotions and connection one feels
when they listen to these tales. As a weaver-together of life
experiences, the story itself has immense power, a tool that can
be used, just as well as steel, hence the phrase “The pen is
mightier than the sword.” But brother, surely you are not
implying that one may take a tale or story and run and enemy
through as they would a blade, for this would be a crude and
barbaric use of something so complex and spiritual. But yes,
pointed and serrated, they twist this gift of story, severing
ties between others, spreading their false creations, and
possibly even manipulating another into killing the target in
question, this puppeteer of falsehoods is barbaric indeed. But
surely there are those that wish to stop these, those who would
contort and twist, the puppeteers, people who would rise to tell
the true story, the tale worth telling, not something of
falsehood and deception!
As with any injustice, there shall always be those who seek to
unravel this falsehood, weaving the truth into the tale once
more, though as we see now, many will follow the most popular
word, even if that word is venomous. But can the common man not
see, even if his soul is layered with worry, with doubt in
himself, his neighbors, his world, can he not see what is true
and what is created to simply control him? Can he not see what
is used to turn him against one another, to fight friend,
brother, and wife? As history has proven, the skilled
manipulator is capable of dissolving the most intimate and
resilient bonds with ease, the common man blind to the strings
by which he is being pulled, a twisted and sorry fate that
should be easily escapable. O proverbial Man, where have you
wandered? Where have flown the days when a tale was the basis of
a man’s entire view of the world, where animals could sing and
tell a man when was the right time to harvest crops, or that
elves and dragons roamed the world.......what has happened to
man, brother? The answer is tragically simple: man has simply
allowed himself to be herded like common cattle, blindly
following while under the illusion of freedom that they believe
is guaranteed to them, that they cannot see the true wonder of
the world through the intricately woven lies. I was told a tale
once brother, that there is a god, and he created man to have
free will, to choose what to believe and what to do.
This god, he who created man, gave them free will and a means to
protect it, though, with time, they have forgotten has absolute
truth, and can no longer see the beauty of the true word through
the shadowy mists of deceit. But how can something as important
as free will, the ability to make decisions, even if they are as
simple as where to walk, how can something so important be
forgotten and pushed away, especially the knowledge of what gave
it to them, be it a god or nature?
The answer to this is a simple one, it would seem, as the
response of man to free will seems to be self doubt and a sense
of hardship they do not wish to face. But if one has free will,
how can he doubt himself, for if he doubts himself, how will
anyone ever respect him, or have faith in the decisions that
free will entitles? The answer is quite simple again, all of
these men who allow themselves to be controlled, subconsciously
knows a manipulative power tugs them along, and this eases their
minds, which has become so simple over time due to them being
rendered nothing but puppets.
Yet, to what extent does free will encompass? Brother, it is
just that, Free. Would not, some would ask, those boundaries of
each man’s own will entangle? Can there be one truth in multiple
wills, or do we find that there become many truths? What then,
if these truths conflict? Man’s nature cries for a decision upon
the “one” truth, which leaves two choices, neither escaping
further conflict: do the two ideas battle for supremacy, a
battle which can never be truly won, or do they agree to
disagree? Why is it, that the only results must be so
unsatisfyingly discordant? Could there not be another path,
another choice to bring about pleasing results to both truths?
It is only in the path seeking harmony, a will to coexist, to
adapt and share and gratefully accept that we find this
nurturing path.
As one wise man once said, is one man’s reality another’s
illusion, or are illusions of all what makes up what we dub
“reality”? Ah, reality, the idea of things that are real, things
explained by rational thought, where magic does not exist and
neither is anything that is not explainable. Yet, there shall
always be that which man will never be able to completely
explain, there shall alway be an enigma inside the initial
mystery, so, would we be able to call what we call “reality”
truly real? Reality dwindles on the idea of science, the
theories of how it explains things, when in truth, magic is only
what science has yet to explain.
Science is seen by the common man as a form of magic in itself,
though an educated being would surely laugh at this farce, for
truly, if this is the common definition, what is not still a
mystery to mankind as a whole? Brother, those who would laugh at
this could not begin to understand what they were laughing at,
for the only true things that are reality, are what we know to
be real; Her, him, emotions, the mind, me, and you, brother.
What then, can we dub reality, the feelings and emotions, the
mind in which we contemplate these emotions, and the
ever-shifting bonds of those who have become intertwined in this
grand tapestry? Brother, for us to use the term reality, due to
it’s definition, we must take into consideration that nothing
other than that which is explained by science exists, nearly
destroying the part of our mind that creates, the entire part
that makes us human, for if humans cannot contemplate, create,
formulate, what can we do?
We could do nothing, bound by the ever-common knowledge that
scientists seek, which would end all that makes us human; this
search for knowledge shall drain all that makes us human, all
that even the most manipulative tale-twister possesses inside
himself. But to search for knowledge, one must hold the idea
that there is knowledge to be had, which would go against
reality; the answer, man created reality, out the deepest and
most well thought out of stories, piecing together what every
common man knew to be true. One should not seek knowledge,
without the wisdom to compare the truth to what they find, as
knowledge alone cannot solve the issues they wish then bring an
end to, wouldn’t you agree, brother? But if one is to know
knowledge, what should stop him from spreading it to his fellow
man, who may have the wisdom he does not possess, creating a
bond, a companionship, one that requires them to think and
question and cooperate. For much the same reason as our
manipulators twist the word: Those who have knowledge covet it,
and are loathe to share, in spite of what they could gain from
the companionship that is similar to the one we share, brother.
But what if those who do not posses the knowledge need it, to
save their own lives or the lives of others, would those that
covet it not share it, casting aside their greed and power to
save many?
Sadly, brother, it would seem that the greed of those with power
supersedes the sympathy they might otherwise have for the masses
that need the knowledge he possesses, as disappointing and cruel
as that may seem. How many would have to die, would have to pass
before his eyes, before he felt remorse for his actions, or
grief for them, to think that if he had shared his knowledge,
something powerful but meant to be shared, they would all have
been saved?
In the end, it must depend on the greed and callousness of the
possessor; there are some who may change their miserly ways to
assist those who direly need his power, and there are those that
would never change their ways, those whose heartlessness knows
no bounds, those that would even let more people die for the
sake of furthering his own power. I take pity on these souls,
brother, for I fear they have lost what makes them human, the
part of their soul that creates, forms ideas, thoughts; I fear
that part of them is dead, and they should be pitied, not hated.
These poor, twisted monsters, devoid of humanity, deserve pity,
for they have isolated themselves in the darkness of power; they
have gathered it all up, and they shall drown in it, they shall
be judged for what they did not do, by an even greater power
than they, brother. Brother, I believe you are correct, but this
one last thing concerns, this statement below us, it has
appeared, and I believe it may be an ending of sorts, which is
odd, for both of us still live, at least that is what it seems.
Is there but one ending in our life, or are there many chapters
of our lives that we merely need to write, the truth of each
ending only furthering the story that we must tell for
ourselves, don’t you believe this to be true, brother? But what
of after our lives end brother, for we do not know what epilogue
our tales should hold after we have told our last chapter and
faced our last ending? Is it not our duty to tell of one’s
ending, to write the epilogue for those who no longer can take
up the pen and write their tales, to bring closure to the story
that was being unraveled by the life of one, do you not believe
this to be an important part of those of us who shall not stand
to be manipulated into forgetting, brother? I think that it is
our duty to carry on someone’s tale, even if they have
forgotten, for though they may not remember, this does not stop
them from having a story, does it? This cannot prevent them from
having their tale, for everything that is part of our perceived
reality has at least the simplest words that can be told about
them, correct? At the very least so brother, for it is the
giving of tales and words, the bonds we create, and the things
we believe, that transforms into who and what we are, and
through this we may come to realise we are but what we create
ourselves to be. We tell our own tales, and many people shall
spread them, in what we hope to be a positive light, for this
way, the truth remains unsullied by those who might seek to
alter what we see of ourselves, of others, and of our perceived
“reality”, this is my belief, brother. I agree with you on this,
Tráchtaire, for I believe it is important for us to realise that
the knowledge we hold in ourselves is what we believe, what we
have created or heard, and I believe if is our duty to spread
this knowledge, and it to man, willingly and truthfully, with
emotion and dedication.
Thus in giving, our wealth of knowledge and wisdom only grows.
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