Moira Reid's Blog, page 5

Stellar Sailors Shanty

A Pantoum by A.C. Moore

Out in the black the stars are a burning,

Power the heart of our great voyager,

Celestial wheels they are a turning,

We’re feeding the mouths of each pioneer.

Power the heart of our great voyager

On heavy metals and radiation.

We’re feeding the mouths of each pioneer

Adrift in the black on each lonely station.

On, heavy metals! On, radiation!

Endless needs of a Stellar Empire.

Adrift, in the black, on each lonely station:

Carefully handle, poison and power.

Endless, the needs of our Stellar Empire’s

Celestial wheels. They are ever turning.

Carefully, Handle poison and power

Out in the black, from the stars, a burning.

About this poem…

            I have never before written a pantoum. It is a new form to me, despite the age behind its heritage. At first it was difficult to grasp. I even considered writing a sonnet instead, as I have more experience with them. But it felt wrong to not explore the form just because it was less familiar. So, I forced myself to take on the task.

            I was not sure what to write. I read several other pantoums, and found that many authors wrote about things close to them, or that mattered to them. Yet I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to contain within the form. It has a singsong design to it. And while I like to sing, I was not sure what I could encapsulate in song from my own life. Eventually I settled on making one around the idea of a society not my own, nor in my own time. Perhaps peoples in the far future would also have such use of this poetry style and use it to explore their own experiences in the darkness of interstellar space. That is what drove this poem for me.

            I love space. Especially science fiction/speculative fictions which take place in space. Much of my fiction writing falls into these categories. So it felt right to dive into this with the pantoum. I am not particularly pleased with the poem. However, it has little stakes in it. I didn’t make it about anything important. I made it just to see if I could. The pantoum is one I will have to explore more to see if I can make it my own. However, I am not sure if I enjoyed the form enough to use it more. It could benefit me in some ways, to fill in such shanties as I wrote here in a novel or two, as background music in some far off future.

Gas Station Prophet

A Missourian Sestina

 

Stopped for a fill-up, eh? No shortage a those on the road. 

 You know Paul stopped for a Phillip as well, 

 In Caesarea, as he was a prophesizin’.   

 Sharin’ the good word ‘bout Jesus. 

 Lots a beliefs the world over. People just tryin’ to understand 

What it means to be human. 
 

Now it weren’t long ago I was a ponderin’ bout the human  

Experience. I was out looking for a ten point buck, mind, so I took a four wheeler and rode 

To this spot I knew, outta town. And I saw one.  Looked right at me, like he could understand 

What I was a doing there. He weren’t ‘fraid or nothin’, not a me or my rifle. And I felt it well 

Up in me, a knowing that God made me and that buck, made that spot outta town, like Jesus 

Was in that buck, was the buck, his crown of antlers a crown of thorns, filled with prophesizin’. 
 

Met a angel haired girl at this stop, and she said Jesus and Buddha were friends, prophesizin’ 

The same message a love and transcendence. I bet that’s true, only we get some it wrong, human 

Beings being what they are, what with their memories being like they are. Lotta people get Jesus 

Wrong. He ain’t no ‘Merican. Weren’t white. And he taught erbody, out by the roads 

And highways, preachin’ love, even turnin’ over tables a money men, showing us the well 

And good way to be, not loving money more’n people. Wish I knew more a Buddha, understood 
 

His message. But there ain’t much a that round here. But I can feel it round here, under stands  

 Of pines and oak. I read once bout this Japanese religion, one less about prophesizin’ 

 Than it were bout the divine. How it’s in all sorts a things. When I see’s a big tree I think, well, 

There’s a bit a divinity in that, I reckon. And I watch the leaves’n lights and see the hue, man,   

 Then I know there’s a little bit of God in all of us critters. All on the long road 

Back to Jesus 
 

 Or Buddha or the Divine, whatever you wanna call it. Jeez, us 

Humans and our ideas. I bet some could call it science. Those folks who understand 

 Math and physics and all that sure do talk about it like its divine. Erodes 

 My nerves an gimme a headache, but I can see what they mean. All those equations prophesizin’ 

 How gravity works, them things in space movin’ like God’s clock. Humans 

Can call it science, but I see God’s hands in it, a tool box with his greased fingers fiddlin’ well  
 

 Enough on this rusty ol’ universe to keep it goin’ another day. Bet he lives like us, drinkin’ well 

 Water on his porch, his wife smilin’ at him from the garden, with his boy Jesus 

 Playin’ with Buddha, and Krishna wavin’ from the pond sayin’, “come swim!” So human 

 That we’d never know they weren’t. Cause maybe we’re more like them than we understand. 

So let me do some prophesizin’  

‘fore you go: you’re gonna find him on this here road. 
 

 I ain’t prophesizin’ silly, now. He may not be Jesus, or even human, 

 But when you see him, well, you’ll understand, 

That he is always on the road, looking for us, calling us home. 

A.C. Moore Sonnet 3: To My Love

To me, she’s as the rowan tree;
Her eyes as pools ‘neath azure skies—
Reflecting all about her be—
Her heart, a dart which quickly flies
Into my own, pierced with desire.
Askr, Embla could not compete—
Glacial melt hails from our hot fire—
My soul is with her made replete.
As she around me spins the fates
And pulls me to her slender trunk
I am unmade, a vine conflates
Me to her flowers, and I am sunk—
No god or goddess holds more sway.
I shall be hers, now and alway.

A Look at Our Space

By examining our universe, we humans have learned some pretty interesting things. For example, we know that the universe we live in is about 13.8 billion (that’s 13,800,000,000) years old from measuring microwave background radiation in space. To put into perspective this amount of time, we can only trace modern human history back around 12,000 years ago, to a stone structure called Gobleki Tepe in what is current day Turkey.

Even taking things farther back, say, to the earliest points we’ve discovered anthropologically into human history, our species still only reaches back about 2 million years. Still barely scratching the surface of times long journey. Yet in just a short period, we’ve done amazing things. We’ve launched ourselves into space, escaping our natal world; a feat, to our knowledge, perhaps never before replicated by any organism in the universe!

However, space is very big. Bigger than our words have power to explain in human contexts. I can tell you that the observable universe is roughly 47.5 billion light years across. To try and put that in perspective, our solar system is only 0.5 lightyears. But this still is unfathomable in some regards, because even half a light year is still almost 10 trillion kilometers (6 trillion miles). One trillion is a thousand billion.

Saying that space is very big is perhaps the greatest understatement in human history. Some would say it is hubris to consider ourselves alone in so much space. Perhaps it is. Yet even with the incredible time and distance that exists in our observable universe, there are a number of factors to consider in where our blip on the structure of it fits.

Given the enormity of space and the almost eternity-like time which has elapsed so far, if even only 1 percent of all the planets in our galaxy also held life, around 40 billion worlds would be life sustaining, with most of those having existed for billions of years longer than our own earth. However, when we look into the night sky with all our incredible telescopes and technology we cannot see evidence of any neighbors. So where are they? This concept is called the Fermi Paradox, and it is one that has baffled scientific minds for many years. Even in conservatives estimates, it would be radically unlikely for us to be alone in our galaxy, let alone the universe. Or would it?

Many models used to calculate how many advanced species there could be in our galaxy only account for possible planets in the Goldilocks zone of their star (the region distant enough to allow for liquid water). But there are likely many other factors to be considered. Our sample size for life at this time is, sadly, only one: Earth. So in this thought experiment, let us use Earth as our comparison. Earth is in the Goldilocks zone of our sun, Sol. It also has a moon, and four gas giants orbiting the same star. Those gas giants, especially the largest, Jupiter, have acted as gravitational bouncers, pulling life destroying asteroids, meteors, and comets into themselves over the millennia. These are all crucial elements. But there is one more: Iron. Without the element iron, no life could exist on Earth.

The element iron can only be formed in the heart of a dying star. As they run low on hydrogen to burn, they must fuse new elements from their available material, until heavier elements are formed, like iron, oxygen, and carbon. All essential to life. This means that only after the first stars began to explode would the elements necessary to create life be proliferated into the cosmos. The length of time needed for a star to reach the end of its lifespan varies depending on size, and likely many of the first stars were so large that they died gloriously within 10 million years of their formation. However, given the requirements for these particular materials that facilitate life, it is not strange to consider their rarity across the universe.

Our galaxy is 13.6 billion years old. Many of the stars in our galaxy which are similar to our own, with planets in the Goldilocks zone, are around 10 billion years old. Our star is about 4.6 billion years old. Life on earth, according to paleontological research, is likely to have occurred 3.7 billion years ago. There are about 100 billion stars in our galaxy. Of those stars, about 17 percent have planets. We have only mapped one percent of the stars in our galaxy, and around two percent of those have stars in their Goldilocks zones. With these numbers considered, the number of stars in our neighborhood that could support life is still 3,400,000. Yet in the grand scheme of our cosmos, it is a pitifully small number.

All that time, all those elements, countless dying stars across the cosmos, to lead to this moment, right now, where we are able to read and explore these wonders for ourselves. For everything we know, there are billions of things we do not. Yet, our curiosity can allow us to continue our journey through time and space, wondering what is our there, waiting for us to discover it.

The Journal of Brek

652 ME, September 23

My first new entry upon my return from the Dark Dimension. I wish my feet were on Alteris soil under better circumstances. After having tracked my prey for countless years across the shadow plains, it escaped, back into this world. What’s worse, the techniques for tracking the being do not appear to be affective on this side of the Dark Dimension. I pray to Tset that it doesn’t find a host. The light here is far brighter than I had imagined. I will have to travel at night and sleep during the day until my eyes and body have adjusted to the sun.

652 ME, September 30

When I first arrived I came into Filenfoe, not far from Ziggurat. After meeting with a Poek Pamatang Master there, I was caught up on the happenings of this world. It appears much has happened in my absence. I have so far been unable to locate my prey. It is hard to believe a creature without flesh could survive so well here, in a world so devoid of spiritual energy. And yet, the beings of Alteris have managed to draw on the magic here in great amounts. It is puzzling. I had hoped to capture the thing within a day, but it could be anywhere by now. As I had believed, it cannot find host in just anyone. It would have to find someone who has a similar heritage.

652 ME, October 4

I have made my way to Mul Debbon. It is colder than I had anticipated. Snow is unfamiliar to me, as is ice, but the people have been welcoming enough. Their Elken worshipers are most helpful. After informing them of my mission to track down my prey, they agreed to help me however they could. A Roh Jahat can cause terrible damage if left unchecked, however they assured me it would be unlikely to find a host among their people. I do not fully believe this, however. While these Elkenhammers claim to be pure, I have read the ancient records of my people. Some have been known to make questionable choices. And there have even been recorded instances of their souls being corrupted, and their hammers turning to cursed tools of the dark gods. I hope this is not so, but I must be diligent.

652 ME, October 10

My fears proved right. While I camped two nights ago, I found evidence of a magical scuffle. The Roh Jahat had found someone, and engaged in combat with them. The residue was clear: the Roh Jahat had taken them. There is a nechrin among these people now. I tracked the prints of the newly born nechrin for over three miles, but the trail was lost as I came out onto the shelf of the forever winter glacier. Although I did not find the nechrin, I did find evidence of who it had claimed: there was a torn green robe stuck in the crag of the ice, embroidered with a five point antler. The nechrin is an Elkenhammer.

652 ME, October 21

I’ve been searching tirelessly to find the cursed being, but without success. I have found victims, however. Dozens. What’s worse, in each case, these poor souls are listed officially as being wild animal attacks, frequently boar attacks. I can see how officials would confuse the attacks on the first few occasions, as the victims are torn apart. But the frequency of attacks should be garnering more suspicion. This leads me to believe the nechrin is evolving. It has to have drawn greater influencing power from somewhere. But where.

652 ME, November 11

Someone else has shown interest in tracking this nechrin. I’ve found reports on a few occasions of a scarg following the killings, but after a few other incidents, the leads to this individual have dried up. What’s worse, the nechrin appears to have gone into dormancy following the inquiries of this scarg. I am sure they meant no harm, but what was it they did to cause the creature to end its spree. This is good for the people of this nation, but bad for my search. Without more evidence I am unable to find and destroy the being.

654 ME, June 14

In the years that have passed, I have found solace in the arms of another hastu. She does not practice Poek Pamatang as I do, but nevertheless we have bonded in matrimony. Life is hard enough without sharing it with another. I continue my work by selling sword skill to protect the people of this nation of Mul Debbon, but I cannot lose sight of my true enemy. This nechrin will show itself once more. And I am sure it will be in this region. Short of some major change, they always stick to a hunting ground.

656 ME, November 10

It has been years since I’ve found any evidence, but tonight, it returned. And surprisingly, it was the same scarg who caught the nechrin once more. I now have a name: Daroth. The Elkenhammer was caught in the act by this child scarg, but he escaped via magical enchantment. He is stronger than I realized. The child has vanished, and I hope she is safe, but this will not stop me from completing my mission. The Elkenhammer dies tonight.

656 ME, December 4

I smote the being. Daroth was consumed by the greed and chaos of the spirit which took him. For it to have taken such great hold, he must have already been willing to follow the dark ones. His spells were strong, but what I found surprising was the man was without his hammer. Curious. After driving him forth for weeks, weakening his spirit and magic, I confronted him on the edge of the glacier ever winter. He laughed. I do not know why. I destroyed him. And completed the purification ritual for his remains. But something remained with me; I did not feel the release of darkness I have felt before when doing the ritual. What is wrong, I wonder.

667 ME, January 22

I have become aware that my brother has come from the dark dimension. I attempted to reach him, but to no avail. He is young, and does not abide the Poek Pamatang as one should. I worry about him. Little Ott’san has always been headstrong, a warrior in his blood, and honorable, but I do not know his intentions in coming to this world. Perhaps he hopes to leave our ways, to join with the people of this world. I have sent him many letters, with no response. I hope he knows the danger that could befall him here. The nechrin is seeking, always looking, for someone to make it strong.

667 ME, June 11

My spouse has borne a child. Her name is as my own: Sal Brek. I am saddened that she must share my surname, the name of a dark one who fell generations ago. I have dedicated my life to the destruction of the spirit of Avantun, but he has alluded me, just as he did my fathers and theirs back to the time of his first kill. Some nechrins die harder than others. I had thought I’d destroyed him fully those eleven years ago. But the smear of his darkness remains in the aura around me. I cannot discover why. He was destroyed, and purified. But he laughed. The nechrin knew something. But what? I must discover this.

680 ME, September 3

I have returned to Filenfoe, in search of an ancient records cache in the Naekiin mountains. My family remains in Mul Debbon. I will return to them, and I miss them dearly, but this question has gnawed at me for too long. When I find the records, I am assured I will find answers about how the servants of Wize are born, and what it takes to create and destroy a nechrin of such incredible power as the one who possessed Avantun Brek. If I cannot stop this creature, I fear it could come for my daughter. She shares the lineage. Now she is at risk.

700 ME, August 17

Finally. The house of records was deep in a canyon cave. The traps of my ancestors still lingering there. I did not know how long had past until I emerged, and reviewed the stars. Twenty years. My body is weak, sustained for so long only through magic and what fungal morsel I could find in those dark depths. But I have my answer. The nechrin, they need a vessel. Not only a living one, but one of magical power, an object. That is why it chose the Elkenhammer. His weapon housed the soul of the nechrin, so that it could do its dark deeds at will without fear of destruction. The hammer was not with Daroth when i smote him. It could be anywhere by now. Until I am able to find it, and destroy it, I cannot be sure of the safety of my daughter. I fear the worst already. I must return home, I hope to find her there, safe.

702 ME, July 5

My daughter is safe. But my beloved spouse has passed. She fell in the field one day, a natural death they said, but I cannot be sure. I am glad that Sal came to no harm, and that she welcomed me back. I feared she would hate me after so long gone in the wilds. Upon my return to Mul Debbon, I began again my search. I hoped the hammer would be simply placed among the others of the Order’s fallen, but it was not. After reviewing records of the time of Daroth, I discovered the hammer was stolen before I smote him. By the very same scarg who had interfered in my investigation. She’s since disappeared into hiding. I tracked her to the shores, but from there, the trail is dead. And so is my hope of finding the damned creature before it is too late.

730 ME, December 31

My life is nearing an end. I have lived many years. And hunted many dark beings. The worlds are safer thanks to the work of my clan. But I could not stop nor find the nechrin who took Daroth, nor could I find the hammer which housed the dark spirit. It is out there somewhere. I hope only it has not corrupted the one who carries it. If it is still with the scarg, perhaps it is safe. But I fear what would happen should it ever draw blood, or be used in anger. I pass on my life’s work to my daughter. Sal has sworn the Poek Pamatang, and has traveled between the worlds. I hope she finds greater peace in her life than I did in mine. Farewell.

820 ME, June 20

My father left this journal among his personal affects. After reviewing it, I found his notes regarding an ancient evil. I have been dreaming of late. That this evil was awake, and seeking blood. Somewhere in the world, this thing which my father sought to kill, is awakening. I feel the call of it, pulling me toward Tandavar. I must go there, and seek to destroy it. The seas are generally calm this time of year, but something else is afoot. A sickness. I have found many villages afflicted. I do not know what is the cause, but the chaos marks a stamp that is unforgettable. Wize. He is at work, and the wakening of that hammer could be in part related, it is hard to know.

820 ME, August 1

I have arrived on the island, and what I found has disturbed me. The place had befallen a terrible ailment. Many were sick or had died. But some group of adventurers were here as well, and they set to work in helping the local populace. What’s more, there was a scarg with them. Could it be that my father’s search and my own has led me this close to an answer? I am unsure. Without greater information I am only speculating. I will investigate deeper and discover the truth of what happened here. Hopefully soon. From what I have gathered, I have missed the traveling adventurers who aided on this island only by a matter of weeks. But by sea travel, it could take months to find them.

820 ME, October 3

It appears the travelers who came to the island in Tandavar were quite busy. Although I do not know the bulk of why they were here to begin with, some other key information has come to light. While these adventurers were here, they found some way to cleanse the disease that afflicted the people. And they came across an Elkenhammer who was assigned to the island also. he was called Jareth Keen, and the locals had a great respect for him. It appears my suspicions were true, also, for the scarg that was among these adventurers did have a hammer in her possession. And it held a curse. Daroth’s weapon contained the nechrin, and it wasn’t until it tasted blood once more that the threat awakened within it. Jareth gave his life to destroy the abomination, but he did not know the proper rite of purification. The spirit is free once more. And I give chase. It is headed toward the lands eastward, for what I do not know.

820 ME, November 22

My father once told me I have a long lost uncle. He went to Udai. That is where the spirit is gone to. I’ve entered the borders on the empire, in the northern hemisphere, but the shadow is hiding somewhere. I fear this uncle is in danger, for he could be a vessel to this dark thing. I have inquired about one of hastu birth here, but without more to go off of, I could be searching for many moons before I find anything of substance. What was his name? Father must have recorded it somewhere. Surely the surname of Brek would follow this uncle wherever he has gone.

820 ME, November 30

The air here is thick. Difficult for my lungs. I have discovered that there are many magical communities in this area. This posses a threat. If the creature is seeking a strong one to bind with, it will find no shortage here. But with great fortune, most of the beings in this land of Udai hold not to the old traditions. This will put the creature at an impasse for finding someone who is of the mind to receive it. I have found record stating that a one Ott’san Brek was given to the house Zhu some 50 years ago. Apparently he fought on behalf of the lord of the house, and protected his prefecture against incredible odds. This bought him favor, and a new name. Perhaps this is why finding him has proven so difficult. He is no longer Ott’san. He is Shigenori Zhu now. Although I have never met him, I am beholden to protect my family. It is the will of Tset.

820 ME, December 1

My search has led me to the city of Oshu, on the southeastern border of the Shinrai prefecture. A rebellion is brewing here. House Zhu remains in strong control of the region, with their armies and commanders setting up to repel the people who are embroiled against them. No information is being allowed out of the region, either, a sort of silence campaign to prevent spread of knowledge about the insurrection. But there is a leader at the center of it. A traveling mentor calling herself The Left Hand. She has garnered incredible support from the lower caste, as she offers education, magical training, and promises greater freedom to those not of noble houses or birth. House Zhu sees her actions as treason. And rightly so. But still, it is hard not to judge the behavior of another nation on my own standards. Is this insurrection a coincidence? or is the spirit working on these people also?

820 ME, December 4

Tensions are boiling. The Left Hand has called together a council of warrior mages, and they are arming their followers. One follower in particular has caught my interest however: They are elderly, yet they show incredible power and youthful vigor. His name is Shin. I have followed his movements for the last two days, and I suspect this Shin is in a pact with the spirit of the nechrin. Either fully or partly. Perhaps not even with his knowledge. But I must be careful here. If I reveal too much too soon I could drive him into hiding. The civil unrest brewing here has forced house Zhu to impose martial law, and the roads in or out are shut for now. I am marooned, until the conflict is abated.

820 ME December 10

An outbreak of Starblood Scourge has ravaged The Left Hand’s forces. Some say the toxin was given intentionally, to increase their magical power. But I do not believe The Left Hand would have done this knowing the dangers of it. She loves her followers. Her desires are not toward their harm. Shin, however has shown a wanton disregard for those who follow The Left Hand. After a closer inspection of his dwelling, I found two barrels lined inside with opalescent lacquer. Evidence of Starblood being stored there. I believe either he brought it here to cause the outbreak, or even conjured it, with the aid of a dark god. This alone is enough for me to confirm my suspicion. He is connected to this spirit.

820 ME December 14

War has erupted. The Left Hand’s army, weakened by the Starblood Scourge, fell quickly. She was taken, along with the remainder of her loyalists, and sent away. But Shin was not found. I tracked him, headed south into the lands abroad. It wasn’t hard to find him. He spread Starblood Scourge everywhere he went. I poured through my father’s notes. It appears the nechrin is drawing power from this damage. If I cannot stop it soon, it may be too late. Where is he going? Why south? Unless he is looking for Shigenori as well. My uncle shares the blood of Brek. He would be a powerful component of the dark rituals this nechrin is seeking to complete. It has done enough damage. I will end this.

820 ME December 20

I was too late. I found Shin. But the Scourge had taken him. His body was burned and the remains buried in a brass urn to prevent spread of his infection. But his personal affects were missing. The dark cloud of the spirit is still in my minds eye. I know it remains at large. But without finding what he could have attached it to in his collection of items I have hit a wall. I know he was heading south. And after doing more research I see that the last record of my uncle shows he was in Kessho, not too far south from here. A caravan of supplies is heading that way later this week and I will travel with them. It is difficult to say where Shin’s items have gone. Could he have had his own acolytes? If so, they too would have the Starblood scourge. I will keep an eye out for spread of the illness.

820 ME December 25

I arrived in Kessho prefecture without incident. Reports so far show no signs of continued Starblood poisoning along this route either. Was I wrong? After arriving in the prefecture, I set out to locate my uncle. The local house of record indicated his last residence was in Ichi, a township outside the Zhu principality of Norio. I worked my way toward the township, but found Ichi devoid of my uncle. He had left some time before. Apparently Lord Zhu himself had assigned him a duty post of great honor. But where I am not allowed to know. The records are held confidentially in the empire, and I, not a citizen, am not given access.

821 ME June 8

I have had to find work in selling my own warrior skills to pay for my lodging here. There is no shortage for the need of skills such as mine. An infestation of Bellibubs outside of Norio garnered my attention and earned me no small fee. I should be well provided for for the rest of my time in this prefecture. Puzzling though. The bellibubs seemed to be expecting me. All servants of Wize appear to be connected. How could I have not seen this. I have to find them once more. They will know.

821 ME June 13

I tracked the bellibubs. They’re not hard to find. The smell gives them away. It is dangerous to involve yourself with them. But after a careful bout of riddles I was able to determine what was happening. They betrayed their god Wize to me. This nechrin which my family has been tracing for eons, it wants my family. It is seeking my uncle. At first I took comfort in this. But the squealing laughter of the goblins revealed their knowledge. I pressed them for more, and they told me Wize knew where he was. And those who served him were on their way to his location, far off toward Tandavar. I must find his location, and warn him, before it is too late.

821 ME July 7

After a series of minor break ins, I have found that my uncle is assigned as a land baron in the region of Onsen, a small island on the eastern side of Tandavar. I make way there now. I have sent a letter to him, in hopes he will meet me half way. But I doubt he will. He never replied to my father. He never took the time. He doesn’t want to relive the past. I don’t blame him. Our family lives in infamy for the crimes of our ancestor Avantun. I hope that the nechrin is unable to complete its work. If another being finds connection to that evil spirit, it could spell doom for all of us.

821 ME July 15

I have arrived at the shores, but finding passage has been difficult. There appears to be a bounty on me for my stealing of information regarding my uncle. I’ve had to use influence magic on many occasions to escape. What’s worse, my letter returned to me. It was opened, but there was no reply. Whether my uncle read it or not I do not know. But the message was clear. He doesn’t want to see me. I have no choice, though. I know from the bellibubs that Shin’s artifact is headed to Onsen. It is a staff. Enchanted with powerful divining magic. Anyone foolish enough to lay hands on it and live will be bewitched, and might not even know it. If they complete the ritual of Avantun, all of this time, my life, my father’s, will be for nothing.

821 ME August 19

I have arrived on Onsen Island. A festival is being set up, which has complicated things. The guards of house Zhu where my uncle resides have prevented my audience with him. Fortunately the bounty on me appears not to have reached Tandavar yet. So I still have time.

821 ME August 20

I found the staff. It has become an object of interest for many festival comers though. They do not know the danger it possesses. I attempted to remove it and destroy it, but the spells around it are thick. I have been cursed. I am growing weak, and if that staff is taken by another, I will be unable to defend myself when the spirit returns. I prepare the rite of combat, my final contrition. If everything goes well, I will destroy the creature, and end this terrible scourge.

4 Life Lessons From Wizard of Earthsea

When I was a young man I was introduced to LeGuin’s epic fantasy tale, A Wizard of Earthsea. From the sweeping vistas of the Archipelago, to the deep mysticism and authority of the magic in Earthsea, I loved everything I found in her amazing work. But one thing stood out to me above all the rest as I read and reread this incredible series. The lessons I learned that shaped me into the man I am today.

One thing is right in the title. In the series, we follow a boy called Sparrowhawk, who from a young age shows incredible promise toward the high arts of magery. He saves his town from the would-be ravaging of the invading armies from the Viking-esque Kargad Lands. He became a Dragonlord and eventually the Archmage himself, the highest honor a wizard can receive. Yet he is only referred to as “A wizard.” Not “The wizard.” While what he accomplished is no small feat, he isn’t given any special treatment, nor preferential observance in the story that is his own. He is humble from his experiences, and rightly so. In the beginning of his story, Ged the Sparrowhawk is full of hubris. And he pays for it, dearly.

Which takes me to my second life lesson. Ged’s story isn’t one of Man versus Evil, or Man versus Man. It’s Man versus Self. In his pride, Ged takes a serious risk and attempts to summon the spirit of a heroine from one of their ancient stories. But as he works the spell, he loses control of it, and brings into his world something far worse. It has no name, but what it is known as when it is able to possess a human body is a Gebbeth, or an eaten one. The attack of his shadow leaves him terribly scared, and even robs him of some of his physical faculties. He is slow of speech for almost a year, and even moves with halting limbs from that time forward. His pride brought him low, and he spent the rest of his youth fighting the terror he had brought into the world by it. In the end, Ged discovered the only way to overcome his prideful shadow which he had brought into the world, was to understand how it was a part of him. How he must accept it and move on. We all have negativity inside ourselves. We have aspects to our personalities that are harmful, some may say even toxic. Only by looking inward, and facing what we are and what we want to be, can we accept those mistakes and shortcomings and find a way to coexist with ourselves, and eventually defeat the shadows of our own pride.

In A Wizard of Earthsea, we learn of their magic from the masters at the school of Roke. Ged asks the master changer in one lesson why he cannot change a stone to a diamond. The master replies with a bit of wisdom that is extraordinarily applicable to all of us. It is what they call the principle of Equilibrium. He says, “To change this rock into a jewel, you must change its true name. And to do that, my son, even to so small a scrap of the world, is to change the world. It can be done. Indeed it can be done. It is the art of the Master Changer, and you will learn it, when you are ready to learn it. But you must not change one thing, one pebble, one grain of sand, until you know what good and evil will follow on that act… To light a candle is to cast a shadow.” Every action we take has consequences, both good and bad. By taking the time to understand those actions we might take, we can be assured that we made the decision, and the outcome is the one we will live with. We become masters of our fate. To me, that was a beautiful lesson, and one I still struggle to learn even today. Decisions can be hard, but when we come to them with an understanding that the outcome, no matter what it will be, is one that we will live with and use to influence our lives from that point on, I know that I take my choices more seriously, and find a sense of comfort and control in doing so.

Finally, I learned that a man need not fight great battles to do great things. Too many stories, in my opinion, focus on mighty heroes who battle armies, lead battalions, or wage some war here or there. And that’s not such a bad thing! But the common person may never have the chance to do such a thing, and if they find that those are the only heroic acts, they might miss the heroism they engage in everyday. Even Ged did fight a dragon, and was a powerful wizard, sailing Earthsea to help people. But his greatest act is one that isn’t even remembered in the legends that followed him. It was his humility, his kindness, and his wisdom that showed me even a simple act, one that is within yourself, an act of overcoming your own obstacles, that can truly define your life. Ged became a man not through conquering an enemy in battle, but by conquering himself. And we all do that every day, little by little.

As we discover our own traits that we want to foster, and the ones we want to defeat, and we work toward doing those things, we are heroes in our own stories. Because when we’ve overcome what ever little trial we face every day, we become the kind of people who can change the world.Ged the Sparrowhawk inspired me to be my best. I overcame my dyslexia so I could read this book myself, rather than having it read to me. And I’ve read this book every year since then. I read many other books, too, but I always come back to this one. Because the lessons I learned here shaped me into who I am. And continue to shape me into who I want to become.

Conversations of Wizards

“So then, master, how does it work?”

The pupil tried to stay close on the busy street as their master strode ahead at an even pace. They had arrived on the street in an instant, before having been on a vacant beach. It was as though reality had suddenly changed for them, though to the master, it seemed as simple as breathing.

“Your knowledge of sciences will serve you better than you knowledge of magic, here,” The master said as they walked.

“And how is that?”

The pupil suddenly found that they were no longer on the same city street. The air had changed to a dry, biting cold, and the cobbled walk was dusted with ice and snow.

“Patience. You see, when you look at a thing, you believe you know what it is. But our words only describe what we need it to be in the moment. Tell me, what is this chair?”

The master turned and sat at a oaken table; they were inside an empty hall of what appeared to be an old castle. The musty air betrayed the age of the building, and the evidence of neglect which it had endured over centuries of isolation.

“Wood, iron. Nothing more.”

“No? What is the chair composed of? Wood and iron only?”

“Yes… No. I don’t know.”

“You do, stop thinking about it in so abstract of terms. What comprises the chair?”

“Atoms.”

“Go deeper.”

“Protons, electrons.”

“Deeper.”

“Quarks.”

“Deeper.”

“I do not know.”

“The Fundamental. The Particle. Matter. Energy. It is the finite and the infinite. The composition of all things.”

The master stood. They walked forward, the chair and table vanishing from the ancient stone hall as the light of a noon day sun filled their surroundings. They stood on a dune in an endless desert as a mighty wind whipped and buffeted them.

“Then at that point,” The pupil shouted above the thunderous wind, following their master as they walked, “if we address all things in such a way, how can a chair be any different from an apple, or me?”

“Now you are asking the right question. Tell me, what makes them different?”

It was suddenly quiet. They stood on the planks of a still fishing boat as it bobbed soundlessly beneath and endless starlit sky.

“The amount of matter is different,” The pupil said.

“Is that all?” The master replied.

“No. The configuration of them is also.”

“Precisely. This is magic: to know the configuration, and the patterning for changing them.”

“But surely there must be more to it than that.” The pupil reached over the side of the boat and scooped a handful of water. “Knowing a thing is water, and having the power to make it ice are very different. What is it that allows us to change the patterning? This is my question.”

“That is not a question,” The master said, cupping their hand beneath the pupils and receiving the water. They flung it overboard, and it became a falcon. “It is the answer. Tell me, do you control you body?”

“I do.”

“All of it? Do you control the cells in your arm as they heal from a cut, or the blood in your veins as it moves at your heart’s beating? Do you absorb the nutrient in your gut as you swallow the mashed fruit and flesh, and do you cause your marrow to quicken?”

“These things happen without my thought on the matter.”

“So are they not you, then? What is it to be a being? Where is the line drawn where you begin, and the existence of life as a Fundamental ends? Can you answer this?”

The master stepped toward the pupil, the boat and water and night sky changing all at once to the dusty back room of an old library. They were squeezed between two stacks of books that reached to their own height.

“I cannot,” The pupil said.

“You believe you cannot too quickly,” The master said, sidling free of the book stack. “You are the entirety of your being. Every part of you, every Particle and jot of Matter is you, patterned in your image, existing beyond your conscious thought. Conscious thought is in fact the illusion. You are Matter, not mind. Mind is matter. Matter is Particle. Particle becomes a thing by the patterning it abide. You and the chair are the same. The universe experiencing the universe either as you, or as a chair, all at once, none at the same time.”

“How is it then that particles are the same? Is this true even across great distances?”

“You do not see yet. There are no particles. “

Once more they walked down the city street, a clocktower glinting in the distance ringing out the coming dawn.

“You speak in circles,” The pupil said. “How can there be no particles yet you say all things are the same matter?”

“Because there is only the Particle. It is all the same thing. You and I are the Particle. Infinite is possible because all things are one thing.”

The pupil stopped following.

“You look troubled,” The master said.

“Not troubled. Frustrated. With your cyclical thinking.”

“Just because a truth is irrational does not make it false. “

The master held out their hand and traced in the air the circular face of the clock tower. “The irrational is often the purest form of universal expression. When you can count to the final digit of Pi, you will know the Particle.”

“An impossible task,” The pupil said.

“Then you had best begin.”

A.C. Moore Sonnet 2: Quantum

What is the smallest thing you ever knew?
A mouse? A splinter, or perhaps a dream?
Or maybe you’ve heard what sits on a pew,
In the temple of math, language supreme?

A defiant cat, Schrodinger’s good pet.
Fundamental parts. Known and unknown.
invisible, until measurement met,
Entangling the clothesline, Hang in There! shown.

Many say the math’s wrong. Even great minds.
Einstein of it said, “God does not play dice.”
Are the particles a game? Where sometimes,
Even the Great Creator seeks for spice?

Cats or games, the dice have proven perfect;
At least, so far as man has sought the work set.

A.C. Moore Sonnet 1: Sight of the Eternal

How oft I seek transcendentalism.
To become entangled in the ethos,
Yet fall short of the fell mechanism?
Yes, how could I forget? It is pathos

Which calls to me. Her light spread out like wheat
to thresh, refulgent in great harmony.
My fellows think it cruel to leave the seat
Empty, and supplicate the surgeons fee

Be met. Though vacancy delivers one
From lies. It is holy smoke, up the flew.
Freedom from vanity of emotion.
My fellows think it cruel to leave them, too.

Apotheosis shall escape this earth.
But darkened skies forbid my reasoned mirth.

Dressing & Undressing

The water boils as the fowl is hanged.
She is upside down, a fragile container,
Prepared to unleash the contents. Just breathe.
Many times my blade has met the neck of a bird.

Emotions pulse like blood as I grip. I must. She’s violent.
The flock cannot keep her, and the time has come. I cut.
The blood boils down her beak as her eyes turn glass.
She’s gone. The seething water receives her.

We feed them, they feed us, but those were not my words.
Not my birds.
Father dressed me when I was young. I have undressed from him.
Letting go of him has given me, me, and with that the responsibility of being.

With gentle sawing motions, I deface her. The body taken apart, wing-clipped.
I clear and clean the neck, there is so little blood. She scalds once more,
And the feathers come free. To dress her, I must undress her.
Her skin is yellow white as I remove the smooth feet.

The blade slips through the soft folds, the cavity unveiled,
Around the cloaca the blade glides, and down, the tines drop free.
One swoop, and she’s emptied of innards. But my hands withdraws, yellow.
The warm fat dyes my flesh. I am dressed, undressed, in her gathered pillow.

And days pass. I meet a man, who’s skin is yellow white. His head is bare
Under the hoarfrost of time. A naked scalp.  Though I be in a hurry,
His words hang there; fat, sticky, bloodless. He speaks of teams,
What he’s seen, where he’s been, insistent to be understood.

If I were to reach into his mind, would I withdraw yellow dyed?
Though all I hear is flapping, I see in him my father. Old and pale now.
His eyes are wrinkled, two flaccid cloacae, perched behind his beak nose.

And I know, dressed or undressed, we’re all birds, by and by.