The Path of the Kraken

    Richard Howard heard the dark whispers in his dreams for years.  He lived his pitiful little life surrounded by pitiful people for years while the whispers spoke of power.  For years he went to school like a good little sheep, not ever doing as well as he "should" but doing as well as he was able to bear.  In his dreams though, he saw what he could be, and whispers told him how to become it.  He had the will, he just needed to shape and hone it.
    Willpower grows with practice and exercise just like anything else.  Eventually he decided to try what the mad whispering in his dreams prompted.  He would be a predator who feeds on predators, not a sheep shorn by the shepherds.  His weapon wouldn't be his arm or anything it held.  It wouldn't be his hands he would use to grasp for power; it would be his mind.
    Richard sat behind his cash register after he dropped out of college for the third time, stooped under the burden of debt and failure.  He owed the banks for what they had loaned him.  He owed his family for their support.  He owed his friends for all they had done for him.  He owed the world for every opportunity he had been given and had failed.  The pressure in his mind built from the weights of his debts, the weight of what he could never repay.  Bearing their weight he became stronger.  He did not collapse under it, he walked forward, and he kept failing no matter how much he wanted to succeed.  He walked the path of self destructive madness already.
    The first mastery of his will was over physical pain.  He would poke and prod himself, stand in awkward yogic poses, stretch muscles, and tell his mind to disregard the pain.  Pain is only information, he knew it hurt, the signal could stop being sent.  He still felt the pain, and it still hurt, he learned to be it's master not the other way around.  The day he mastered pain was the day a scar was ripped off of his skin and he poured salt, lemon, and hot sauce into the wound without wincing.  This was the first and easiest step on the path of the Kraken.
    The next victory was over desire.  This is not the victory sought on the path of Buddhism where you seek a place of quiet peace with no desire.  This was a victory of a roiling chaos of desires growing higher and higher and honing his will to deny them all.  He did not quiet his mind of desires, he sought them, fixated on them, denied them, and then sought more to deny himself.  He learned new desires, forbidden desires, impractical desires, and impossible desires.  He would place himself by the subject of a desire; focusing on how much he wanted, how much he yearned, pined, and thought he would die without the subject of the desire.  He was careful at first not to fixate on desires that denial of could cause him harm.  He would fixate on luxuries and forbidden things at first.  He fixated at first on what he should do without.  Then he branched out.
    His search for new desires to fixate upon was twofold.  In one direction was self denial of things that verged closer to necessity.  On the other hand, he nurtured desires that went further and further into the bizarre and forbidden.  He noticed that his occasional satiation of necessary desires merely whetted his appetite for more, so occasionally he tried whetting his appetite for the forbidden and bizarre as well with mixed results.  Some of the dark desires were disappointing when indulged.  Others did not disappoint in the least.
    Some of the darker desires soon eclipsed hunger and the need for warmth.  His will grew stronger.  He lived an even more pitiful life than he had before he began to walk the path, but his strength had grown so much beyond what he had before been.  His desires grew stronger and more ephemeral by the day, but his will became stronger still.
    Then came the day when he learned he could hear the desires of others and push them towards or away from them.  He learned he could move his hair and flex his fingernails.  His will was no longer limited in it's control of his nerves and muscles.  He tried to bend his bones to disastrous result.  If he had not mastered lesser pains, the pain of manipulating his own skull could have killed him.  His skeleton was limiting him though, it needed to go.  He focused on the furthest bone on the first finger of his right hand; and compelled it from his body slowly and painfully, as it left he whimpered.  He repeated the process over and over until there were no longer any bones in his right hand.  He grabbed a steel conduit on his wall and crushed it with his grip that now was subject only to his diamond will.  He had not eaten in months, he had stopped needing that long ago.  He willed the other bones from his body; every last one, one at a time.  The skull was the trickiest.
    He washed the blood off in the shower, and stood in front of the mirror, practicing pretending he had bones still.  That was when he realized he had much greater weights against which to push his will than desire now.  He had the raw physics of the world to push against.  He no longer needed to fixate on these desires, he no longer had to deny himself.  For a moment he laughed harder than he ever had, and wasn't sure when the realization of what not denying himself anymore would mean hit him, and the laugh turned into a scream.

Imsalan Chapter 1: Miraculous Birth

Chapter 1: Miraculous Birth

It is difficult to say where a story should begin.  It is most natural to say it should begin where the people of whom it speaks began.  There is some disagreement as to exactly when that is, but it is generally agreed to be at some time after the person in question’s mother meets that person’s father, but no later than when they are born.  Also, it is good to start a story in a way like it is to continue.  So, as this is a story of magic and wonder, with stories of miraculous birth it will begin.

Caled

Caled Fwlch Herne came into this world at great cost and great risk.  His mother wanted nothing more than to bring a child into this world.  There was some fear though, because the doctors said she might not be healthy enough to give birth.  Josephene Herne loved so much the child she had not yet even met that she would not give up.

Caled’s mother and father tried for several years, but still there was no child.  One day though, Josephene finally received the good news that she was pregnant.  As the pregnancy went on, more and more problems arose.  Josephene’s doctors and nurses were skilled; and her husband and family surrounded her with their love, care, and prayers.  Far too early though, one too many problems came, and the baby had to be born early.

Akashi Herne was only in this world for a few days.  Josephene was only a few breaths away from death and in constant torturous pain for weeks after her daughter was born.  Josephene was only able to hold her daughter once, it was after Akashi had died, and through the pain Josephene was only able to keep a shadow of a memory of holding her.  That little girl was bathed in a love from her family that cannot be described though, and she touched the hearts of them all.

Despite pain, despite fear, despite the true possibility of death; Josephene still yearned to bring another child into this world and raise them.  No child could ever replace the daughter that could not stay in this world.  No person can ever truly take the place of another, but different people can fill the voids in our lives in different ways.

Josephene’s doctors tried to discourage her, but she would not be turned aside.  As she had loved her daughter, she already loved this other child whom she had not even met; so much that even though unimaginable pain and even death was the risk, she would gladly go into this battle with her own body to bring him into being.  Her husband, her family, and her friends feared for her, but they knew trying to change her mind was of no use.

As soon as her doctors decided they had found medicines that might allow her to live through trying for another child, attempts at another pregnancy began.  The would be parents went to their pastor with their fears.  He prayed with them then blessed and anointed her belly.  The very next day they received the good news that she was pregnant again.

The costs of all the therapies, medications, and constant attentions of the many doctors needed were high; the reality of enduring them was brutal.  She was covered in bruises and needle marks.  If she even showed the slightest signs of something wrong, she had to be hospitalized.  All of these precautions were needed though, and the baby grew strong in her womb.

There were many tense moments, and the strain on her body was so great that it wasn’t known if she ever could recover completely.  In almost no time, which seemed like forever, she was holding Caled in her arms.

That is a story of the miracle of a mothers love for a child she had never met and didn’t even know could ever be.  Her love was so great for this child that no amount of pain or threat of death could keep her from running to hold him in her arms.

Chiv

Chivalry Marie Black was brought into this world by two parents who loved one another deeply.  The pregnancy went well, and one day they were off to the hospital to welcome her into the world.  The labor; however, did not go well.

Joe-Ab Black went to the hospital with his wife he loved more than life itself, and left with a daughter.  He missed his wife desperately, but did not blame the daughter that his beloved had died to bring into this world.  Life is precious, and sometimes that which is precious comes at great cost, but that only makes it all the more precious.  He loved his daughter.  He strove to protect and raise her as best as he could.  Sometimes his best was not as much as could have been wanted, but it was always enough.

That is a story of the miracle of life coming at the most precious cost it can be purchased with, life.

Simon

Simon Edwin Magister was being avoided even before he came to be.  His mother was a brilliant young woman, but she saw darkness everywhere in this world.  She tried not to think, not to feel, and not to see.  She didn’t even want to be in this world, much less bring someone else into it.  She hated so much, especially herself.

She had been going around with a man she disliked even more than herself, mostly because he helped her to forget, and to feel something other than pain.  She was using three different ways to stop from becoming pregnant, but all three stopped working at the same time.  She knew right when it happened.  She knew there was no way she could have known, but she knew all the same.  That night she stopped drinking, smoking, and every other way of putting anything into her body that should not be there.  The withdrawal was excruciating; having to look at this world with sober eyes after so long was worse.

She left her child's father as soon as the first test confirmed she was right.  She didn't want a child, she didn't even want to be in this world.  If she was going to bring a baby into this world though, she couldn't bring the child into the dark pit she had allowed herself to fall in.  She found a stable job, it didn't pay well, but it was something.  She accepted charity she never would have taken for herself.

When Simon was born, she didn't know how they were going to make it.  She didn't know how, or if, she could pay all the bills.  She didn't know if she could be a good mother.  She did know one thing; she knew she loved this little boy she hadn't wanted to come into being.  She felt love shining in her heart that had only seen darkness.  Loving him even helped her to love parts of herself, because she saw them in him.

That is a story of the miracle of life overcoming barriers, and the miracle of what we most need coming to be despite our best efforts to stop it.

Einya

Einya Chimere Aisling does not know the story of how she came to be.  All she knows is that her mother Viviane had been backpacking through Europe when she came home early because she was pregnant.  When Einya had been younger, her mother had said that she would tell her about her father when she was older.  Einya kept asking gently as she grew up; but her mother kept avoiding the question, changing the subject, or just pretending not to hear.  Eventually Einya just stopped asking.

That is a story of the miracle of the unknown.  Just because we do not know why something happens does not in the least stop it from happening.

Lilli

Lillian Arachni Rosenrote was born to two married,upper middle class parents who decided to have a child.  They conceived, carried, and gave birth to her relatively without incident.

That is a story of the miracle of birth.  Life itself is a miracle.  Two coming together and forming a third is one of the most wondrous mysteries of this world.  No matter how much we know of how it works, and why, it is still no less a miracle.  It is the miracle that brought you, me, and everyone else into this world.

There will be further stories of more the kind of magic and wonder you might expect.  When it comes to birth, it is magical and wondrous enough on it's own.

Imsalan

    We know magic is real.  We have next to complete proof it is not; but still, on some basic level we know it to be real.  This knowledge is so fundamental to us that no amount of disproof can dislodge it.  People always have, and always will, believe in magic and it's ability to shape our lives.
    We know that we are not alone.  Since earliest times almost every society has stories of people from a world beyond ours.  These stories merely disagree on the nature of these persons and the nature of where they come from.  Right now we primarily look to the stars for our neighbors, and perhaps we will find them there some day.  That is not where I would look though.
    Magic is real, and we are not alone.  Magic can not be found by a journey of feet however, it must be found where it lives.  Magical forces, and those who wield them, live in the first place we should look for them; Dream.
    Our universe is a bubble of stability in the roiling chaos of dream.  Outside of our safe predictable world is where magic dwells.  There are some other pockets of stability, places that are stable and safe enough to support societies, but they are rarely as stable as ours.  These bubbles of stability are where elves, dvergar, goblins, wizards, unicorns, and dragons live.  Most are tiny pockets, drifting from place to place through dreams and nightmares.  Others are larger; towns, valleys, cities, or even mountain ranges that are stable enough to hold together.
    One of the brightest jewels of these bubbles is more of a strewn web called Imsalan.  It is named for the massive pyramid city at it's center, but it spreads much farther afield than could ever be seen from the city gates.  Long ago a great empress had the vision to try catching the small pockets drifting through dream and build a vast network of roads connecting them; thus building a world stable enough to live in, but bordered on all sides and intertwined with Dream.
    Imsalan has many peoples, but most are divided into four groups.  The elves and other fey are the people of fire, the goblinoids are the people of water, the giants and dvergar are the people of stone, and the humans are the people of air.
    People can pass from Imsalan to our world, and they bring with them a spark of the magic from their world.  People can pass from our world to Imsalan, but that requires passing physically into Dream.
    Come with me.

Generational Armageddon: Teenagers are the End of the World

    In the news, in the break-room, wherever adults gather to trade information; sooner or later the subject of the young ones coming into adulthood will come up.  It will come up, and it is the end of the world as we know it.  They have no respect, they don't know how good they have it, they don't understand what they are doing, and they are destroying their lives before they've even begun.
    In cafeterias, coffee shops, fast food places, and wherever else the young have claimed as theirs for the moment to sit and discuss the world; sooner or later the subject of what a sorry state it is in will come up.  The need for change of how the world is run will be discussed; the end of the world as we know it so that a new world can be born.
    In some symbolic traditions Death has a very interesting meaning.  That symbolic meaning is change that requires one thing to end for another to begin.  In these symbolic systems, Death is one of the few symbols that can always be seen as positive.  In these symbolic systems, this type of change is also the one that is met with the most fear and anxiety.
    In the Bible, there is one book that is hardest to interpret, fascinating for many, but most frightening in it's imagery to most.  This is the book of Revelation.  It is filled with destruction, death, and change.  It also has the triumphant return of Christ in all of his glory and the promised Kingdom of God on earth.
    Every generation looks at the way that the next generation is changing everything they have built and can see the world as they know it ending.  Every generation looks at a world they are born into, and envisions a new world they can build.  Every generation sees the symbols of Revelation and interprets them in their times to see that the world is ending.  Maybe one generation some day, the youth will truly end the world for good.  Maybe some day the symbols of Revelation will play out for the final time and there will be no further improvement for the next generation.
    For now, every generation tears down some of what has been built before and builds up something new.  We work to tear out the darkness in the world and build the City of God on earth.  Sometimes we come closer than others.  Every generation has change though, every generation tries with greater or lesser success to learn from those before them, every generation has taxes, and every generation dies.  Every generation has their Revelation, and for them the world ends as they know it so that they may enter the Kingdom of God.

What Chickens Taught Me About Heaven and Hell

I grew up in rural Kansas. I didn’t just grow up in a small town, I grew up nine miles from the nearest small town. While we didn’t do much “real” farming, I did grow up surrounded by animals. There were dogs, cats, chickens, cows, the occasional bull, deer, coyotes, a peacock and a peahen for a while, rats, field mice, catfish, perch, snakes, lizards, all manner of birds, and a plethora of bugs. I do agree that most animals are not really capable of what I would call evil. After growing up with up to a hundred chickens at a time under my sister’s and my care, I do have to say that chickens are one of the best contenders to being an exception. Chickens are mean, brutal, sadistic creatures. They will attack one another; not only for food, territory, and breeding rights, but just because they can. Put enough chickens together with unlimited food and water and you will still find dead birds every morning from them pecking one another to death. They don’t just attack each other either, they will attack anything they think they can get away with. With roosters, this can include their caretakers. The term “pecking order” comes from what passes for chicken social structure. They have a line from strongest to weakest that is reinforced by the stronger birds pecking the weaker birds. The weakest are then pecked by every chicken above them until they die from the hundreds of little wounds. Chickens who are handled caringly and lovingly enough by humans can be taught to leave these patterns, and they are capable of caring for their young to a degree, but in a natural state chickens seem to wish to destroy anything that is not themselves or their progeny. There are people who are like chickens; people who hate others purely for not being themselves. They run around looking for anyone they can peck at just for the sake of pecking. They might fight to the death to protect their own children, but could care less about the man starving down the street as long as it doesn’t bring down their property values. Some places become human chicken coops, with people like this milling around teaching the ones around them to fear everything and thus hate everything. Enough people seeing the world through a chicken’s eyes creates a hell on earth wherever they gather. It is said that one man asked as he was dying if he could see hell before going to heaven. In hell he saw a great feast that no one could eat because they had huge spoons tied to their arms so they couldn’t feed themselves. In heaven he saw the same scene, but they were feeding one another. Chicken minded people are what can make a heaven into a hell. No one wants to live in a hellish environment, but there are few who are willing to do what it takes to bring change in the other direction. These people are heros. They spread hope and love in the face of fear and hate. They teach people that their environment can become better, and they don’t need to just hurt everyone they can before anyone has the opportunity to hurt them. Heros can turn a hell on earth into a paradise. Many of the greatest heroes of legend don’t just turn their own environment into a paradise, after they fix their own land they descend into another hell to protect those there. Those are the greatest heroes.

Darkness and Light

    Darkness is not evil.  Darkness is only what we cannot see.  Some of what is in darkness is just there.  Some of those who dwell in darkness are there because they do not wish to be seen.  There can be many reasons to want to hide.  Some of those who dwell in darkness are there because they cannot leave.  Others stay because they will not leave those who cannot leave at the mercy of those who hunt in the dark.

    It is dangerous in the dark.  Even when there is nothing that wishes you harm, you may not see dangers to avoid them, or those who are dangerous may not see you to avoid you.  Many predators can see well or otherwise find their way in the dark.  They might take easy prey.

    It is easy in the darkness to decide you must be either predator or prey.  Even in the dark though, there is good and evil in all of us.  The prey may grow powerful and become predators.  Power does not make one a predator though.  The greatest power is needed to protect.  Keen sight is needed to see through the darkness.  Fortitude is needed to bear the injuries meant for the weak.  Greater strength is needed to restrain than to attack, because there is good in all, even the predators.  Patience and will are needed to protect without oppressing.

    Light is not good.  Light just means something is illuminated to be seen.  Just because it walks in the light does not mean it is not evil or dangerous, it just means it is either better at hiding its unsavoryness, or powerful enough not to need to hide.  Light can lead to complacency, and too much light can blind.  Evil and dangerous things can want the security of seeing around themselves just as much as the good and the weak.

    It is dangerous in the light.  It is easy to believe what you cannot see cannot be there.  It is easy to lose fear and respect for the monsters when you see them in the light.  Just because you see something does not make it not dangerous.  Just because you see much does not mean you see all.  Also, it is easy to forget that no matter how well lit it is where you stand, darkness is never far away.

Oops, I kinda got lost in Star Wars land for a little bit.

    I just noticed I haven't posted anything new here in three months now.  That is completely not cool, but a bunch of chaos has been going on in my life.  One of the most guilty perpetrators in the crime of stifling my writing however has been the MMORPG Star Wars the Old Republic being released.  This game has kind of swallowed up tracts of my life.  It's just gulping them down like a nine year old gulps down gummy worms.  Instead of tooth decay and early diabetes though, it has instead brought my writing to a dead halt.

    I've still been working on ideas, jotting down tidbits, and editing larger works I had been working on.  I haven't really made any substantial progress on either of the books I'm working on, nor have I finished a single short story or even a poem since that game came out.  It really is too good of a game.  I'm going to have to watch myself to make sure I keep turning words out instead of just basking in the creations of others.

    I love Star Wars.  I've loved it as long as I can remember.  It has such beautiful imagery, symbolism, and themes.  The worlds and characters almost reach out of the screen with the movies and out of the pages with the books.  Yes, there are some places in the franchise that just make me want to take George Lucas and shake him, but the creation as a whole is astounding.  One of my favorite aspects of Star Wars is that it isn't really sci-fi, it's fantasy in space.  It has many sci-fi elements, but at it's heart it belongs more next to Tolkien than next to Asimov on the shelf.  Star Wars doesn't reach out into the "what if?" and see where it goes.  Instead it tells stories that are patchworks of ancient elemental tales; and builds a mythology to contain them out of space ships, lasers, and new age mysticism.

    One of the best traits of Star Wars though, is it's ability to grow and self sustain.  If George Lucas died tomorrow, Star Wars would continue.  That I believe is a difficult trait to imbue a creation of any type with.  That is where it becomes alive.  It has enough power and potential that it can surpass the vision of it's author.  It has the potential to keep growing.  It can go beyond a single vision, and integrate the influence of all mankind.

    I do believe it is premature to say Star Wars is a mythology of the modern age.  Myth is a creation not of one man, or even a small group.  Myth is where a story is taken and changed by the imagination of a whole society, and through that gains life of it's own.  Star Wars can not be that, yet.  I do believe it could  become true myth eventually though.  Having even the potential for that makes something great.

    I can only dream that someday my mind could help shape the seed of a story that could stand the test needed for it to live on beyond me; not just being retold, but growing.