The Origins of Phrenik

Phrenik is a Dungeons and Dragons (henceforth abbreviated to DnD) character I have been creating for a while now. I wanted to create a Wizard. Now, most people have a preconceived notion of what a Wizard should look like: Long robes, carrying a wooden staff with either a pointed hat with star patterns everywhere or a large hood. Big grey beard. Like Tolkien's Gandalf the Grey (or White) or J. K. Rowling's Albus Dumbledore.

When I designed this character, I wanted to pick that notion by the seat of the pants and the scruff of the neck and toss it out the window. So I searched within multiple genres while looking for inspiration, from Manga to fantasy to SciFi. I was actually quite delighted with what I gathered.

I had four major characters from my past experiences that I wanted to incorporate a small feel of. The first is Jace Beleren, a powerful mind-mage from the world of Magic: The Gathering.

"You should try to clear your mind of idle thoughts. And if you can't, I will."

Jace specializes in Blue magic and deals mainly with magic that manipulates the mind and memories. (Wow, there were a lot of Ms in that sentence.) His outfit is what I really wanted to emulate in designing Phrenik, because I really like the style of his sleeves, cape, pants, tunic, and especially his hood.

The next I thought about seemed at first to me like an odd choice. I honestly couldn't explain to myself why I wanted my character to emulate him: Doctor Who's 11th Incarnation of The Doctor, played by Matt Smith.

"I wear bow ties now. Bow ties are cool."

The Doctor has a police box that can move through space and time at will. He's lived for hundreds of years, and when he is grievously injured he simple "regenerates" which grants him not only a new look but a new personality. The 11th incarnation has a bit of a quick temper, but it's juxtaposed strangely with his old soul view of the world. I really wanted Phrenik to capture The Doctor's "Next Stop, Everywhere" attitude while being able to relate to the Doctor's shadowy past.

I thought for a while before deciding who next to capture aspects of, but when I thought of Rave Master's Sieg Hart, I was sold.

"Even one who masters the sword must bow to the power of magic."

Sieg Hart is an Elementalist. He wields the arcane power of the elements in order to protect the continuum of time. He and Jace are both where I got the idea for Phrenik's tattoos from, though I took it to a greater extent than these characters have. Again, we see the obvious no-robe, no-staff, nothing but badassery happening. I wanted Phrenik to answer to a deeper call than personal revenge, and though the short story below doesn't show it, it's something he takes very seriously.

I had these characters chosen out, and I really liked them, but something seemed missing... A certain neutrality. Jace and Sieg are both technically neutral, but they both end up serving the greater good in the end. I wanted Phrenik to be more morally grey than that. Then I thought of World of Warcraft's Aspect of Magic, the Blue Dragon, Malygos the Spellweaver.

"What could you hope to accomplish, to storm brassily into my domain? To employ MAGIC? Against ME?"

Malygos is the Aspect of Magic and the leader of the Blue Dragonflight , the family of dragons that have domain over all Arcane Magic (the kind of magic that mages or wizards use). He sadly went insane and eventually led what was dubbed the Azure Crusade to destroy all other creatures that use magic, because the thought the Blue Dragons were the only creatures powerful enough to use it responsibly. In the online game, players are required to slay him. I wanted Phrenik to embody his thirst for knowledge, his aristocratic view of the Arcane, and the ultimate moral neutrality and grey area that no one can actually prove isn't correct.

A bit of backstory: The campaign that Phrenik will be appearing in is the longest one I've ever written, and the main villain is actually an old PC (player character) that belonged to a former player in our group. He went mad for power, and while the other PCs were charged with destroying the people who had absorbed the essences of the 7 deadly sins, Immerall decided to absorb them for his own power. He became a demigod with black raven's wings, with a sword forged in the fires of the 9th hell. He killed most of the other player characters (with my full foreknowledge, as I decided I wanted to use him as a villain).

Without much further ado, I might as well just jump into the final profile that I devised for Phrenik.

Phrenik

“Immerall is one of many who would misuse magic. I will see to it that his taint will stain the spells of this world’s Magi no more.”

“If you remember only one thing you hear me say, let it be this: This world is an illusion. It is not real. And the only way I am able to do the things I do is because I have seen past it. Do not ever forget that.”

Titles: Phrenik (Taken Name), The Riddlesmith, The Eye, The Seeker, The Blue

Alignment: Neutral Good (With True Neutral Tendencies)

Race: Appears to be Human.

Age: Late 20s, Early 30s—Unclear.

Appearance: Phrenik is about 188 cm (about 6’2”) tall. His skin color deceives his ethnicity, and it is therefore impossible to tell what ethnicity he is. It is a very unique shade of brown, like coffee with far, far too much creamer. He has long caramel hair done up in natural dreadlocks, a result of many hours spent unwashed while studying and planning. He has a short Bob Marley-esque goatee the same color as his hair.  His icy blue eyes set against his other darker, mellow features stand out peculiarly. He has tattoos from under and above his left eye that sprawl over his lean back, chest, and wiry arms of eyes, inscriptions, glyphs, and other arcane symbology, but one in particular stands out on his right forearm: a name, “Melodia” . His left ear and lip are both pierced with simple silver hoops. He wears a highly detailed cloth tunic that covers his biceps, strongly-threaded pants, shoes, and spaulders, with a very deep hood large enough to obstruct vision of his eyes.

Quirks: Seems unable to make eye contact. Is constantly looking through small notebooks he keeps on his person in pockets of his outfit.  Smokes cigarettes. Normally has his hood up, but when it is not he wears black-rimmed glasses. Speaks with an unplaceable accent.

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When the demon came, I heard the towers that I had once guarded from all danger collapse onto their people.  A laugh still hung in the air—Though I’m not sure how I could tell it was even a mortal voice. It was a sound, that’s for sure. A hideously arrogant, agonizingly powerful sound.  Then I saw him. White hair, red eyes, long ears and black wings. 

Those black wings.        

                                                         

A man I had known for half my life ran out of the house we had been visiting and shouted, “Immerall, the Arcane Consortium will not abide your presence here! Arrakum Eyya Shin Feiuru-“

I was not aware that someone could die that quickly. The sound he made as the final syllable of his spell was gurgled from his lifeless neck is something I will never forget. 

When the demon came, I had done whatever I could for her. I had always been skilled in teleportation magic, so I formed the thoughts and spat out the words and drew the circle in midair as fast as I could. The portal opened, and I forcefully shoved her through, then closed the portal with all of my might, placing as many words of power I could to lock it shut so no one, not even myself, could follow.

“You’re very brave, young wizard. What is your name? And who was that pretty young thing?” the black-winged fiend inquired, showing his pointed teeth in a cold, mirthless smile I will never forget. He was looking at me like some hellish wolf gazes upon a rabbit that was misfortunate enough to jump into his den. 

He did not kill me, as I expected. He left me alive and forced me with some chthonian magic to watch as he slaughtered everyone I had grown up with—the whole city of Raviuk, gone. 

It was only until he left that I realized I couldn’t remember what I had answered his questions with.

I remembered everything else—My age, my abilities, my only family, the tragedy, everything… except the names that that beast had taken from me. I have the name of the girl I sent off branded into my skin, so although he tried to take her from me, I at least have her name… I now know I must find her to remember who she is to me and what name I used to go by.

Today I received a distress signal from the last few remaining members of the Arcane Consortium, my clandestine guild, who were thankfully away on their own missions that I was not of proper clearance to know the details of. 

“Immerall the Sevenfold is fast approaching demigod-level power. All available Magi are advised to flee and go into hiding, using any aliases previously unused in order to protect what few resources we yet have. The destruction of Raviuk was a fatal error, something we did not foresee. Beings of many races, creeds, regions, and powers now understand the true depth of Immerall’s power and the havoc  he can wreak. Make no mistake; we are now at war.”

Naturally, for security purposes, no names were used. But at least I have a heading. I’ll find this girl named Melodia, and I will find the others of my guild. I’ll find others who are able and willing to assist me in ending this fiend’s black-feathered curtain he has drawn over the skies of this world.

Untitled

I have the willpower of a torrential flood.

I have a tongue like a bolt of lightning.

The drive of an ardent wildfire

With the serenity and Zen of a lake’s mirroring surface,

When the sun is just shy enough to hide away from the world five minutes before dawn.

I have traversed the Atlas and soul-searched in temples and nightclubs alike.

As I navigated skyscrapers and mountains of mass media with a wrought-iron compass

I meditated and prostrated and repeated my Ex Corde mantra,

“Om mani padme hum, our Father in heaven,

I pledge allegiance to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth will set you free.”

These old words resound in the Information Age with feigned harmlessness,

Amplified with the subwoofers of today’s youth, screaming, “The only true victory is peace”,

Screaming, “Rise up, daughters and sons of Forever”,

Screaming, “Next stop, the Greater Good!”

There is a War Going On for Your Mind

"There's a war going on for your mind.
Media mavens mount surgical strikes from trapper keeper collages and online magazine racks.
Cover girl cutouts throw up pop-up ads,
Infecting victims with silicone shrapnel.
Worldwide passenger pigeons deploy paratroopers.
Now it's raining pornography.
Lovers take shelter!
Post-production debutantes pursue you in NASCAR chariots.
They construct ransom letters from biblical passages and bleed mascara into holy water supplies.

There's a war going on for your mind
Industry insiders slang test tube babies to corporate crackheads.
They flash logos and blast ghettos.
Their embroidered neckties say "stop snitchin'."
Conscious rappers and whistle-blowers get stitches made of acupuncture needles and marionette strings.

There is a war going on for your mind.
Professional wrestlers and vice presidents want you to believe them.
The desert sky is their blue screen,
They superimpose explosions.
They shout at you,
"Pay no attention to the men behind the barbed curtain
Nor the craters beneath the draped flags!
Those hoods are there for your protection,
And meteors these days are the size of corpses!"

There's a war going on for your mind.
We are the insurgents."

Written by Flobots.

The Dao of Chance

I'm writing this at 1:02 AM, Central Time. About an hour and a half ago I was in a car accident in St. Paul.

I was driving with four other people in a four-door, so it was quite... friendly... for the people in the back. We had been at a karaoke bar singing like fools, eating mediocre food and drinking terrible coffee. The ride back was energetic, but I was uncomfortable for some reason. (Psychic foreshadowing? Probably too much coffee.) As I was driving, I glanced back for just a second, which ended up being just a second too long. The light was red; I saw someone coming from my right. I braked, set off the horn, turned into the direction of the other car, but still made contact. The shrill screech of metal on metal and crash of the plastic turn signal made me cringe.

I shifted into park, turned on the lights and immediately asked if everyone was all right. No one in my car was hurt. I walked over to the other driver (who thankfully was alone) and asked if he was hurt. I was incredibly relieved to find that no one had been injured.

But the damage had been done. From what I understand, the other car's axle or wheel or something had been jacked up, and he was unable to get it into a safer place, so I called a police officer and pulled Tori (My white Sable) over to the curb of the adjacent street. I asked the girl in the passenger's seat to locate my insurance card as I pulled out my license.

Unsure of what to do in the situation, I did what any self-respecting adult would do. I called Mom. She gave me the best advice she could from miles away as I noticed my hands were shaking. It wasn't a serious accident; I couldn't explain to myself why that was happening. I got everything sorted with the officer and gave the keys to one of my friends as I slipped into the passenger's seat and repeated a calming mantra to myself.

After a calmer mindset settled in, I realized something very comforting. While the accident itself had been unfortunate, I realized exactly how fortunate I, my friends, and the other driver were. Had I been looking behind me, I would not have been able to brake. Had the other driver been a split second earlier, I would have likely T-boned him. Had I been a split second earlier, he might have hit the passenger's side door and might have injured one or more of my friends. Thinking even further back, just earlier last week my car's brakes had been completely shot. If I had been driving without proper brakes, it would have been incredibly likely that one or more people would have been injured. I could go on, but my point is that it could have been much, much worse.

A simple thought formed in my head upon this realization: I simply have one more reason to be grateful for my life. Even a minor accident like this is part of the Dao, as it was the natural course. It happened, therefore all I can do is act like a river and flow around the rock in my path. I will handle it, and move past it. I am safe and secure along with my friends and the other driver. That is definitely something to be grateful for. Accidents happen. That's why they're called accidents. It's just another way the Dao expresses itself.

In fact, the Dao De Jing puts it quite simply:

"Welcome disgrace as a pleasant surprise.
Prize calamities as your own body.

Why should we 'welcome disgrace as a pleasant surprise'?
Because a lowly state is a boon:
Getting it is a pleasant surprise,
And so is losing it!

...Why should we 'prize calamities as our own body '?
Because our body is the very source of calamity.
If we have no body, what calamity can we have? "

It says this to serve as a reminder for us. I was in a car accident so I can be reminded to be grateful that I even have a car to be in an accident with. 

After receiving a hug from one friend, some calming words from another, a laugh from a third and some delicious Chai latte-flavored ice cream from a fourth, as well as forgiveness and advice from my Mom, I'm feeling a lot better about it, although I still view it as a careless and avoidable mistake. I lost my mindfulness, my awareness. That's something I've been training myself daily to avoid, but that only means I can use this as a very valuable experience to learn to stay in the Zen mindset, to stay in mindfulness, in all moments.

When accidents happen, remember to use the experience. To not learn from it would be foolish! I will do my best to use this experience, and every misfortune in the future, to remember how fortunate I really am.

The Dao of the Everyday

Whenever I tell people that I follow traditional Daoist philosophy, I usually one of three reactions.

1. "...What's Daoism? "
2. "Oh, really? That's... different. How did you learn about that? "
3. "You don't really strike me as that kind of guy. "  

 I've pretty much learned how to discuss my philosophy well enough to get the point across to a member of any of these groups. One question that I've always received (in one form or another) is, "How do you know when someone is living in the Dao?", which is sometimes asked more like "How do Daoists go about everyday business?" It's a difficult question to answer, because the Dao is completely inexplicable in every way.

"The Way that can be expressed is not the real Way. "

That's the FIRST THING that is taught about the Dao. So, it's always easier to explain the effect that the Dao has on the individual.

• Simplicity.  Daoists will always go about their business in the simplest possible way-- The easiest metaphor is the image of water flowing around a rock. When an obstacle is present, it is always easiest to flow around it and try a different way. Daoists conserve their energy and are often content with what they have. It's not that they aren't ambitious; They simply go after the easiest way possible.
• Sensitivity. Daoists are incredibly observant people. They try and avoid aggression whenever possible and do what they can to help those in need. Daoists have a mysterious affinity for nature and oftentimes spend hours in wilderness learning from the seasons, studying life, and absorbing nature's creative anima. Nature is not the same thing as the Dao, but it is an expression of the Dao and is thus completely flawless and a window into the Dao.
• Flexibility. One of my good friend's name is the word for "Bamboo" in her native language. She once told me that her family gave her that name because they wanted her to be flexible, and in that flexibility she would have strength. Whether she knows it or not, that's a perfect illustration of the Dao. The Dao De Jing (道德经）says that newborn life is strong because it's soft and supple, and dead bodies are rigid and brittle when they are dead. The Dao holds that everything in the world is relative, and that nothing is absolute. Choices are always made from circumstances, not from preconceived notions.
• Independence. People who follow the Dao often don't pay attention (or even really care about) what society says. They don't pay attention to fads, trends, common-spread morality, or even most political movements. It isn't because Daoists are immoral-- It's because they act from a very profound, deep level of the spirit. Because of this, many religions and politicians throughout ages have accused Daoism of being dangerous or complacent. Those who follow the Dao value wisdom and affirm experience over government and etiquette.
• Focus. Those who follow the Dao have an intense inner focus. They accept who they are, and view that as the first step towards accepting all things as they are. They know how futile it is to try and be someone they are not. They accept that they were born and that they will die. This offers an opportunity to view the distance between those as a journey to be traveled. Many Daoists meditate on these precepts and gain a very focused view on the world.
• Mindfulness. Though strictly speaking a concept stemming from Buddhism, Daoism also participate in it. Tying in closely with the previous attribute, Daoists learn to see everything within everything. The old animistic teaching comes back: "Everything that is, is alive." If you ask a person what bread is, often times one who follows the Dao will describe it as being made of grain, water, heat, soil, the sun, air, time, et cetera. They will describe it as being made completely of non-bread elements. Seeing as we are made of non-human elements in the same manner, we know we are within the bread just as the bread is within us. This can be a source of great happiness-- all from mindfulness. As Jostein Gaarder wrote: "We, too, are stardust."
• Discipline. Most Daoists believe in the value of longevity, and try and live in a way that will prolong their lives as much as possible. At the very loosest, this means many abstain from drugs and tobacco. At the absolute strictest, many Daoists live on vegetarian diets and forbid any alcohol from entering their bodies, many even taking it so far as to live on little more than rice and water. The Dao shows patience, kindness, and love in every case.
• Joy. When a person glimpses into the Dao, it forever changes them. Sometimes it's described as seeing God or achieving Enlightenment. The experience can never be erased. The Dao grants a sense of connectedness to the source of life, to a force of sustenance. One who sees the Dao does not fear tyranny-- No tyrant can take the Dao from them. She does not fear poverty, because the Dao grants a profound wealth beyond imagination. She does not fear loneliness, because through the Dao, every living thing is surrounding them. She does not fear death, because through the Dao, everything that is is alive.

The Dao has fascinating effects on the self, but understand that this is not to say that only Daoists may experience this. In fact, the people I have met who best act through the Dao have been Christians, Buddhists, Atheists, and Shintoists. acting in wisdom, patience, and love.

You Helped Me Write This by Showing Me to Give is Priceless

Someone once asked me if I thought I was a grateful person.  I thought for a moment, then answered honestly. 

"Yes, I do believe I'm a grateful person, even though I may sometimes forget to show it."

This person continued to ask me how I can say that, even though I don't give everything I own to charities and those who are less fortunate than I.

"I don't do this out of two reasons: The first being practicality. Right now, in this stage of my life, I simply don't make enough money to be able to give to the poor. The second reason is that if I had the money, I would put it into practice the way I saw fit-- that is, I would give it to those I know would use it for the greatest good."

 I continued to speak with this person about what the "greatest good" is, but that's not something I'll discuss in this post.

I think giving is the best thing that someone can do for another. Even if it's as simple as a gift of a card, a ride home, lunch, or a place to rest, giving is good for the soul. My friends are some of the most generous people I've ever met, and I am continuously overwhelmed by their will to give freely.

That being said, a lot of people give not out of altruism but out of the unspoken promise that they will get something out of it. While there's nothing outright wrong with that, if that's the only reason a person gives, then it's not out of altruism at all-- It's for the benefit of the self.

There are so many people who need help. Remember what you have. Remember what you can give. Remember what you can do.

The Egg

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. the EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered that you were better off, trust me.

And that's when you met me.

"What... What happened?" You asked. "Where am I?"

"You died," I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

"There was a... truck and it was skidding..."

"Yup," I said.

"I... I died?"

"Yup. But don't feel bad about it. Everyone dies," I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. "What is this place?" You asked. "Is this the afterlife?"

"More or less," I said.

"Are you god?" You asked.

"Yup," I replied. "I'm God."

"My kids... my wife," you said.

"What about them?"

"Will they be all right?"

"That's what I like to see," I said. "You just died and your main concern is for your family. That's good stuff right there."

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn't look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

"Don't worry," I said. "They'll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn't have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it's any consolation, she'll feel very guilty for feeling relieved."

"Oh," you said. "So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?"

"Neither," I said. "You'll be reincarnated."

"Ah," you said. "So the Hindus were right."

"All religions are right in their own way," I said. "Walk with me."

You followed along as we strode through the void. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular," I said. "It's just nice to walk while we talk."

"So what's the point, then?" You asked. "When I get reborn, I'll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won't matter."

 "Not so!" I said. "You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don't remember them right now."

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. "Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It's like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it's hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you've gained all the experiences it had.

"You've been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven't stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you'd start remembering everything. But there's no point to doing that between each life."

"How many times have I been reincarnated, then?"

"Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into different lives." I said. "This time around, you'll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD."

"Wait, what?" You stammered. "You're sending me back in time?"

"Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from."

"Where you come from?" You said.

"Oh, sure," I explained. "I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you'll want to know what it's like there, but honestly you wouldn't understand."

"Oh," you said, a little let down. "But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point."

"Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don't even know it's happening."

"So what's the point of it all?"

"Seriously?" I asked. "Seriously? You're asking me for the meaning of life? Isn't that a little stereotypical?"

"Well it's a reasonable question," you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. "The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature."

"You mean mankind? You want us to mature?"

"No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect."

"Just me? What about everyone else?"

"There is no one else," I said. "In this universe, there's just you and me."

You stared blankly at me. "But all the people on earth..."

"All you. Different incarnations of you."

"Wait. I'm everyone?!"

"Now you're getting it," I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

"I'm every human being who ever lived?"

"And who will ever live, yes."

"I'm Abraham Lincoln?"

"And you're John Wilkes Booth, too," I added.

"I'm Hitler?" You said, appalled.

"And you're the millions he killed."

"I'm Jesus?"

"And you're everyone who followed him."

You fell silent.

"Every time you victimized someone," I said, "You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you've done, you've done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you."

You thought for a long time.

"Why?" You asked me. "Why do all this?"

 "Because someday, you will become like me. Because that's what you are. You're one of my kind. You're my child."

"Whoa," you said, incredulous. "You mean I'm a god?"

"No. Not yet. You're a fetus. You're still growing. Once you've lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born."

"So the whole universe," you said, "it's just..."

"An egg." I answered. "Now it's time for you to move on to your next life."

And I sent you on your way.

--Anonymous

DISCLAIMER: I did not write this. This was an anonymous work posted on an anonymous website distributed throughout many parts of the internet. This is not my work, it does not belong to me in any way. The only portions I added were the images. Beyond that, the work remains as it was written.

EDIT: After a bit of digging, I've found the author's name and the original title of this work. It's titled "The Egg" and is credited to Andy Weir.

Rhymes With Month

I once said that the best hip-hop comes out of my homeland, Minnesota. While that may be true, this is not to say that all hip-hop that comes out of Minnesota will be the best. In fact, this short rap I wrote for a friend disproves that within the first three syllables.

My friend is going to California to watch Jay Leno's show (not really my type of humor, but all the same, I'm jealous of her) and had announced she was writing a rap. Okay, sure, whatever. I had a bit of a laugh and asked her to end a line with "month", knowing full well that there isn't a single English word that rhymes with "month". Afterwards, she asked for my help writing the rap. This is what I came up with.

Minnesota’s the land of ten thousand lakes
But we’re here in California by no mistake.
Better listen up, Leno, and make some noise
Because I’m here to have a party with the West-coast boys

Somewhere between M N and O C
Is a bit of a dilemma with LAPD
I promise I’m a good girl, stay out of trouble
But can I help it if I want to turn the city to rubble?

It’s hard bein’ blonde, I ain’t gonna lie
But I don’t let it get to me, no, I don’t cry
Cuz you know, when this girl just wanna have fun
I don’t stop, I don’t quit, you know I’ll get it done.

I know, Xzibit, I know... It sucked... You don't have to look at me like that...

  Damn it, I'm a poet, not a rapper! An author, not a mixmaster! I may enjoy spoken word, but I find myself limited by musical meter. Let's hope I never rap again-- I wouldn't want to disrespect the art.

Why?

Why did you do so much for me?
I talked down to you and spat insults at you.
Why did you give so much love to me?
I used you for my own gains, and left you cold and deserted in my wake,
With pain in your belly and blood on the ground.

Why did you go against your better judgment, and the advice of your loved ones
And give me so much of your soul?
Why did you let me ravage your self esteem, rob you of your freedom and assassinate your trust
When you were a resource to me?
Why did you trade so many pieces of your heart with me,
So I would always have a bit of you with me?
Why did you let me do the things I did?
Why did you love me?

Why couldn't I see what I was doing?
Why was I so blind to the tears, so deaf to the heaving sobs?
I had no rhyme or reason to the rampage I wrought.
I was rolling dice
And stacking bets with emotions.

Why do you still give me this love?
Why am I shown such grace?
I don't deserve it now, just like I didn't deserve you then.
Why?

Why did you whisper to me, "You're a good man"?
Why did you tell me, "I will do anything for you"?
Why did you give me so much so soon?
Why, out of all of the ones you saw, you chose me?

The Dao of Jealousy

Last night I was spending time with two of my good friends. We had gone to get some Burger King, and we sat outside because we didn't want to dirty the lobby of the restaurant at 12h30 in the morning. We began to talk about something, anything, many things, nothing. One of my friends whips out his laptop and displays a personality test for some laughs, and we all realize that it suits him to a T. It was a good night.

As we were driving back to my place, the two guys I was spending time with both told me that they were slightly jealous of me. That really confused me. What do I have that would make others jealous? I didn't (and still don't) understand.

I've always said that while satisfaction may be brought by outside influences such as money, fame, games, sex, things like that, happiness is something entirely different. It's something that comes from within. Finding this happiness from within might seem cliché, but it's all a matter of gratefulness and mindfulness.

When we look within, it requires mindfulness. This can be achieved a lot of different ways, including (but not limited to) praying, meditating, reflecting, writing, and singing. We can see into ourselves and look into the present moment. When we do this, we can see that everything about the present moment is granted to us by kindness.

What did you have for dinner this evening? Whether you made it yourself, your mother made it for you, or you ordered at a restaurant, it was all prepared for you out of kindness. The job that provides for you is a form of kindness. The pure water you drink is kindness. Spending time with your friends, even poking fun at each other! It's kindness. On an even deeper level, your beating heart is kindness. Your mother or father could have ended the pregnancy and you would never have gotten the chance to experience this world. When you boil it down all the way, you get kindness.

If that kindness deeply touches your soul, then it's easy to see how it can be humbling, enlightening, even overwhelming, and you can see how it brings happiness. Despite how awful this world can seem, a lot of times we completely overlook the kindness given to us. This is why Jealousy, while a completely natural thing to feel, is not a healthy thing to dwell upon. In looking for what is truly just satisfaction elsewhere, we miss the chance to see true happiness when it's sitting right on our nose.

I promised myself I wasn't going to put up another super-preachy post anytime soon, but I had been chewing on this for a while and had to get it out of me somehow.