I received some criticism after my last blogpost, much of it personal in nature.
It seems some people thought of my honest words as manipulative and my motivations selfish.
For quite a long time I’ve ignored when people attack me, I’ve ignored scathing attacks on both my character and quality of my work. (I can accept the latter but not the former.)
I have even ignored obvious attacks on my personal life, many of which came at the benefit of my rivals. I have come to people with frank honesty and myself been deceived into trust and then betrayed.
This e-mail however was little more then a veiled threat.
The apathy surrounding me in recent months has done nothing to help. Apathy caused by the heartbreak surrounding both my social and spiritual life. I had no real desire to lash out at detractors before. That changed. Whoever this is… and I have my ideas; is going to regret everything he has said.
I do not take well to threats. Even subtle ones.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Still Alive
I apologize for the lack of updates over the past few weeks. It has been a poorly concealed fact that my health has been poor the last few months. Those closest to me have known the truth: That an infection was eating my brain and nervous system. It's been removed and I'll make a full recovery.Earlier I wrote a lengthy description of what happened. Ultimately I decided that a detailed account of my suffering would further no ends. There is only one event that I feel should be told. I had to wait 10 days for my operation.
Around the seventh day the pain, hallucinations, isolation and emotional pain finally took it’s toll on me. My body grew cold and my heart slowed. The life slowly drained from my body. My breathing grew shallow. I knew instinctively that my body was dying. Part of me wanted to let go; I wanted to leave that body filled with pain. But I couldn’t go. People who loved me called me back.
I teetered on the edge for a while. Several times I lapsed into unconsciousness only to be shaken awake again.
I could not in my heart find a reason to live. Over the past two years most of them had disappeared. I ignored the slow destruction of my soul until precious few things matter to me anymore.
But still I could not ignore the pleading of a few who would not let me go.
It is a strange thing to say, but I was not afraid of death. When I was young I feared the certainty of death with such fervor; when I became a Taoist I looked at death as merely the start of a new adventure.
All of these things swirled around in my mind, until I remembered a quote from the Tao Te Ching. “The sage is filled with life so death cannot enter him.”
I had abandoned the fullness of my life. The realization that I had given up before I had finished struck me hard. And so I took the deepest breaths that I could, and I filled my soul with life.
Two days later (and 1 day before I was scheduled) I had my operation.
Given time the scars will heal, the debts will be repaid, the soul will become whole again. I didn’t have a startling epiphany about the true purpose of my life. I received no insight into the universe. Nothing-profound happening to me except one thing: I’m still alive.
I guess I lied when I said I gained nothing profound from my experiences. Everything that I was before, all that I had lost in pain and torment over the past years came pouring back to me. I gained nothing new. Just things I should’ve remembered all along.
For those interested I’m starting two more blogs soon. One will be about my local political work and the other will be an analyzed view of the gaming industry (and other related fields). On top of that I have a professional grade comic and some other stuff coming down the pipes, plus a redesign (and subsequent editing/reformatting) of this blog. I’m not making it a secret. I need to pay off my medical bills.
Around the seventh day the pain, hallucinations, isolation and emotional pain finally took it’s toll on me. My body grew cold and my heart slowed. The life slowly drained from my body. My breathing grew shallow. I knew instinctively that my body was dying. Part of me wanted to let go; I wanted to leave that body filled with pain. But I couldn’t go. People who loved me called me back.
I teetered on the edge for a while. Several times I lapsed into unconsciousness only to be shaken awake again.
I could not in my heart find a reason to live. Over the past two years most of them had disappeared. I ignored the slow destruction of my soul until precious few things matter to me anymore.
But still I could not ignore the pleading of a few who would not let me go.
It is a strange thing to say, but I was not afraid of death. When I was young I feared the certainty of death with such fervor; when I became a Taoist I looked at death as merely the start of a new adventure.
All of these things swirled around in my mind, until I remembered a quote from the Tao Te Ching. “The sage is filled with life so death cannot enter him.”
I had abandoned the fullness of my life. The realization that I had given up before I had finished struck me hard. And so I took the deepest breaths that I could, and I filled my soul with life.
Two days later (and 1 day before I was scheduled) I had my operation.
Given time the scars will heal, the debts will be repaid, the soul will become whole again. I didn’t have a startling epiphany about the true purpose of my life. I received no insight into the universe. Nothing-profound happening to me except one thing: I’m still alive.
I guess I lied when I said I gained nothing profound from my experiences. Everything that I was before, all that I had lost in pain and torment over the past years came pouring back to me. I gained nothing new. Just things I should’ve remembered all along.
For those interested I’m starting two more blogs soon. One will be about my local political work and the other will be an analyzed view of the gaming industry (and other related fields). On top of that I have a professional grade comic and some other stuff coming down the pipes, plus a redesign (and subsequent editing/reformatting) of this blog. I’m not making it a secret. I need to pay off my medical bills.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Mothers Day
When I was young I enjoyed bird watching. I would watch the progress the local bird’s had over time. One evening I noticed the mother of a nest hadn’t returned for a few days. The lone chick made a very shrill lonely sound, as its hunger grew worse. By the end of the next day the baby chick had died. Without it’s mother it never had a chance.
That little bird had quite an effect on me. I too didn’t have a mother bird to nurture me. Of course I had various surrogates that kept me alive… but a surrogate is not a true mother. I felt a strong, tragic connection with that tiny bird. It wasn’t until that point that I understood the power a mother had. She was responsible for the very life of her child and nothing could ever fully replace her.
It’s easy to become a parent. An act of lustful indiscretion can easily result in a child. It’s another thing entirely to be a mother or father. A true mother shapes the life of her children more then anything else. People with selfish hearts do not make good parents; neither do the vain, the star-struck ideologues, the reckless, the violent or the careless.
Children inherent these traits, or rebel against them. They are shaped by the nature of their parents in ways I can only barely fathom or describe. Even the unfit have children; those children have more unfit children. Drug users sire drug users just like intellectuals sire intellectuals. One could theorize that the world will remain in status quo because of this. But more and more… those fit to be parents are unwilling. The brightest of our society choose to have no children because of the time involved. The poorest and least educated have multiple children early in their lives.
Of the best kinds of mothers there is one I hold in highest esteem. I struggled for a better part of a week looking for the exact word to use. But I couldn’t find one. I searched Internet databases and dusty books looking for the exact and perfect word. There wasn’t one. So I will tell you what the ideal parent is. I will tell you what I hope I can be someday, and I will tell you part of who my mother was.
From a strictly medical standpoint I shouldn’t be alive. My mother had a serious heart condition and having a child would, and almost did kill her. Her doctors urged her to abort me to save her life. She discounted them immediately. Even if it meant her life I would be born. I often wonder what thoughts went through her mind before I was born. She knew the risk it posed to her; she knew the risk it posed to me.
My mother herself never knew her real parents. My grandfather a former navy pilot adopted her and brought her to Utah when she was still very young. I now know from various accounts that she had trouble finding adoptive parents because of the nature of her heart problems. Back in those days it was believed she wouldn’t live past her teenage years.
I did a lot of research on my mother’s early life trying to understand her… and myself a little better. She conflicted with my pious grandparents over their church. I have heard many different accounts of her early life. But her own personal accounts speak of constant fighting with my grandfather, anger towards god and a wild almost reckless disregard for her own safety. Although there are no specifics (thankfully, nobody wants to know everything about their parents.) she talked of things she later regretted and coming to grips with her own mortality and beliefs. She emerged from that dark period a strong compassionate woman. People have told me that my mother was the kindest person they ever knew. People I didn’t know would walk up to me and tell me about my mother. It was no surprise she lived her life with intensity and joy. She outlived her doctor’s estimates by years and years. For the time period she lived it would be considered almost a miracle to survive as long as she did.
It was a bitter irony that it was her heart that failed her. I never knew her yet I could feel her kindness when people spoke about her. She was creative and intelligent, and bubbled with the kind of warmth you rarely see anymore.
I often wonder what went through her mind before I was born. I have been told that her love was so fierce it held off death itself. I have come to believe in recent years that my mother had in mind for me to do what she could not. I know She did not want me to replace her; she never had in mind an heir to her life. Yet I often feel that I have become exactly what my mother wanted. I am a writer, I am not held down by oppressive religions or dogmas. I have a clear strong heart and freedom to be whomever I choose.
She survived my birth barely, but it took a lot out of her. Two years and two months later she died. To live as long as she did was nothing short of a miracle. I know now and will forever know that it was her love that kept her alive those years. And each year on mother’s day I leave her flowers to show her that I haven’t forgotten her love or her sacrifice. There is no word appropriate to call a person of that caliber. The only word I know is mom.
That little bird had quite an effect on me. I too didn’t have a mother bird to nurture me. Of course I had various surrogates that kept me alive… but a surrogate is not a true mother. I felt a strong, tragic connection with that tiny bird. It wasn’t until that point that I understood the power a mother had. She was responsible for the very life of her child and nothing could ever fully replace her.
It’s easy to become a parent. An act of lustful indiscretion can easily result in a child. It’s another thing entirely to be a mother or father. A true mother shapes the life of her children more then anything else. People with selfish hearts do not make good parents; neither do the vain, the star-struck ideologues, the reckless, the violent or the careless.
Children inherent these traits, or rebel against them. They are shaped by the nature of their parents in ways I can only barely fathom or describe. Even the unfit have children; those children have more unfit children. Drug users sire drug users just like intellectuals sire intellectuals. One could theorize that the world will remain in status quo because of this. But more and more… those fit to be parents are unwilling. The brightest of our society choose to have no children because of the time involved. The poorest and least educated have multiple children early in their lives.
Of the best kinds of mothers there is one I hold in highest esteem. I struggled for a better part of a week looking for the exact word to use. But I couldn’t find one. I searched Internet databases and dusty books looking for the exact and perfect word. There wasn’t one. So I will tell you what the ideal parent is. I will tell you what I hope I can be someday, and I will tell you part of who my mother was.
From a strictly medical standpoint I shouldn’t be alive. My mother had a serious heart condition and having a child would, and almost did kill her. Her doctors urged her to abort me to save her life. She discounted them immediately. Even if it meant her life I would be born. I often wonder what thoughts went through her mind before I was born. She knew the risk it posed to her; she knew the risk it posed to me.
My mother herself never knew her real parents. My grandfather a former navy pilot adopted her and brought her to Utah when she was still very young. I now know from various accounts that she had trouble finding adoptive parents because of the nature of her heart problems. Back in those days it was believed she wouldn’t live past her teenage years.
I did a lot of research on my mother’s early life trying to understand her… and myself a little better. She conflicted with my pious grandparents over their church. I have heard many different accounts of her early life. But her own personal accounts speak of constant fighting with my grandfather, anger towards god and a wild almost reckless disregard for her own safety. Although there are no specifics (thankfully, nobody wants to know everything about their parents.) she talked of things she later regretted and coming to grips with her own mortality and beliefs. She emerged from that dark period a strong compassionate woman. People have told me that my mother was the kindest person they ever knew. People I didn’t know would walk up to me and tell me about my mother. It was no surprise she lived her life with intensity and joy. She outlived her doctor’s estimates by years and years. For the time period she lived it would be considered almost a miracle to survive as long as she did.
It was a bitter irony that it was her heart that failed her. I never knew her yet I could feel her kindness when people spoke about her. She was creative and intelligent, and bubbled with the kind of warmth you rarely see anymore.
I often wonder what went through her mind before I was born. I have been told that her love was so fierce it held off death itself. I have come to believe in recent years that my mother had in mind for me to do what she could not. I know She did not want me to replace her; she never had in mind an heir to her life. Yet I often feel that I have become exactly what my mother wanted. I am a writer, I am not held down by oppressive religions or dogmas. I have a clear strong heart and freedom to be whomever I choose.
She survived my birth barely, but it took a lot out of her. Two years and two months later she died. To live as long as she did was nothing short of a miracle. I know now and will forever know that it was her love that kept her alive those years. And each year on mother’s day I leave her flowers to show her that I haven’t forgotten her love or her sacrifice. There is no word appropriate to call a person of that caliber. The only word I know is mom.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Sundering the Light and Dark
Sorry for the lack of activity late, I’ve been pulled in a hundred directions recently and my mood hasn’t been conducive to new writing.
Given a brief glance a person seems so full of contradictions and inconsistencies that it is a wonder we function at all. A caring priest harbors pedophilia, a loving husband and father is an adulterer, a policemen steals or a teacher lies. On the outside we polish out and minimize the inconsistencies. We put forward a solid message about our identity. I am a Taoist; I present that to the world when in truth I frequently doubt if I am what I say I am. I fail to practice my beliefs often and find myself in situations I know I could’ve avoided. We lie to the entire world about what he are, he hide disabilities, weaknesses, feelings, secrets and our true beliefs. The conflict between who we really are and whom we present ourselves as is perhaps one of the greatest and least told.
The illusion and façade is vital, without it we wouldn’t survive. We wrap ourselves in a deep crust of apathy, normalcy, arrogance, religion, pride and status. Even when we speak of things that are true we spin them with an air of drama or feign effortlessness. It is rare now that a person’s heart matches the persona they put forth.
Last week at Virginia Tech a student killed 30 of his classmates. He honed an identity of an outsider and a rebel. He portrayed the world as a cold enemy. Nobody challenged it; nobody confronted him about it. I cannot speak for what was truly in his heart. But when I saw this on TV everyone around me condemned him as a monster, it’s not an unfairly earned label. But the first thing I felt for him was sympathy. A long time ago I felt the same way he did. He became a monster and I didn’t.
We embrace labels and titles. We seek to define ourselves to one another: To craft and hone an image. I know an overwhelming number of people who call themselves “catholic” or “mormon” or “atheist” or “vegan” who do not follow their beliefs and only speak of them when trying to portray themselves as religious or spiritual. The second you make a crack about the pope you awake the indigent catholic in an otherwise un-catholic person.
The labels that we seek to define us are truly nothing more then anchors to mediocrity and sameness. They restrict us to being a specific person and bind us from becoming another different. In essence we impede our own spiritual, social, emotional and physical growth. A martial artist neglects to strengthen his mind, a priest neglects his body, a socialite starves her soul of spiritual nourishment. A single mother once asked me what she should do, she was depressed and lost with her life. I thought about it and told her to go hiking. “Single mothers don’t go hiking.” She told me. It boggles my mind that she wouldn’t go hiking because she didn’t think that’s what single mothers did. She took a negative label (Don’t write hate mail. It’s still a negative label no matter how much I hate it that way.) like single mother and used it to restrict her life. Months later I talked her into hiking with me and she loved it.
I have over time sought to wrap myself in different labels: boyfriend, writer, taoist, gamer, guild-officer, democrat, martial artist, dungeon-master, big brother and warrior.
Each defined me in a different way, before I became a democrat I never thought about social reform in a broader sense. I never felt strongly about freedom and choice. The positive aspect of that label helped me understand new things about myself. But at the same time I turned against beliefs I had held my entire life (Gun Control most obviously).
You make the label and the label makes you. Or worse someone else makes the label and it makes you.
Before you decide to reject labels. Remember you still need them. When I started to become sick my images and self-concept unraveled quickly. I was a helpless warrior, a dungeon-master with no players, and a martial artist with no technique, a Taoist with no soul, a gamer with no skills, a guild-officer without a guild and a writer with no passion.
My karmic punishment was the loss of my self-image, the loss of my abilities and labels.
When I lost the use of my hands I could not play games, I could not grasp my sword or make a fist. The labels that defined me also defined my worth. Without them I felt increasingly useless and distant from my true self.
That is after all what I have been talking about: The true self. We show it to a few special people before we lock it away once more. We harbor doubts in the darkest parts of our soul. It is a dark mirror that reflects light. We seek to eliminate the inconsistencies and contradictions for our outer persona; yet when we examine with honesty we realize that we are filled with both light and darkness. Without both we are incomplete and imbalanced.
Given a brief glance a person seems so full of contradictions and inconsistencies that it is a wonder we function at all. A caring priest harbors pedophilia, a loving husband and father is an adulterer, a policemen steals or a teacher lies. On the outside we polish out and minimize the inconsistencies. We put forward a solid message about our identity. I am a Taoist; I present that to the world when in truth I frequently doubt if I am what I say I am. I fail to practice my beliefs often and find myself in situations I know I could’ve avoided. We lie to the entire world about what he are, he hide disabilities, weaknesses, feelings, secrets and our true beliefs. The conflict between who we really are and whom we present ourselves as is perhaps one of the greatest and least told.
The illusion and façade is vital, without it we wouldn’t survive. We wrap ourselves in a deep crust of apathy, normalcy, arrogance, religion, pride and status. Even when we speak of things that are true we spin them with an air of drama or feign effortlessness. It is rare now that a person’s heart matches the persona they put forth.
Last week at Virginia Tech a student killed 30 of his classmates. He honed an identity of an outsider and a rebel. He portrayed the world as a cold enemy. Nobody challenged it; nobody confronted him about it. I cannot speak for what was truly in his heart. But when I saw this on TV everyone around me condemned him as a monster, it’s not an unfairly earned label. But the first thing I felt for him was sympathy. A long time ago I felt the same way he did. He became a monster and I didn’t.
We embrace labels and titles. We seek to define ourselves to one another: To craft and hone an image. I know an overwhelming number of people who call themselves “catholic” or “mormon” or “atheist” or “vegan” who do not follow their beliefs and only speak of them when trying to portray themselves as religious or spiritual. The second you make a crack about the pope you awake the indigent catholic in an otherwise un-catholic person.
The labels that we seek to define us are truly nothing more then anchors to mediocrity and sameness. They restrict us to being a specific person and bind us from becoming another different. In essence we impede our own spiritual, social, emotional and physical growth. A martial artist neglects to strengthen his mind, a priest neglects his body, a socialite starves her soul of spiritual nourishment. A single mother once asked me what she should do, she was depressed and lost with her life. I thought about it and told her to go hiking. “Single mothers don’t go hiking.” She told me. It boggles my mind that she wouldn’t go hiking because she didn’t think that’s what single mothers did. She took a negative label (Don’t write hate mail. It’s still a negative label no matter how much I hate it that way.) like single mother and used it to restrict her life. Months later I talked her into hiking with me and she loved it.
I have over time sought to wrap myself in different labels: boyfriend, writer, taoist, gamer, guild-officer, democrat, martial artist, dungeon-master, big brother and warrior.
Each defined me in a different way, before I became a democrat I never thought about social reform in a broader sense. I never felt strongly about freedom and choice. The positive aspect of that label helped me understand new things about myself. But at the same time I turned against beliefs I had held my entire life (Gun Control most obviously).
You make the label and the label makes you. Or worse someone else makes the label and it makes you.
Before you decide to reject labels. Remember you still need them. When I started to become sick my images and self-concept unraveled quickly. I was a helpless warrior, a dungeon-master with no players, and a martial artist with no technique, a Taoist with no soul, a gamer with no skills, a guild-officer without a guild and a writer with no passion.
My karmic punishment was the loss of my self-image, the loss of my abilities and labels.
When I lost the use of my hands I could not play games, I could not grasp my sword or make a fist. The labels that defined me also defined my worth. Without them I felt increasingly useless and distant from my true self.
That is after all what I have been talking about: The true self. We show it to a few special people before we lock it away once more. We harbor doubts in the darkest parts of our soul. It is a dark mirror that reflects light. We seek to eliminate the inconsistencies and contradictions for our outer persona; yet when we examine with honesty we realize that we are filled with both light and darkness. Without both we are incomplete and imbalanced.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Rest Complete
Well I am back. I had a good rest and now I'm ready to roll up the sleeves and get to work.
I know I've said this before; but life has an ebb and flow. It's unescapable really. Sometimes we are drawn into the quiet and reflective, other times we are intensely active. It is in the quiet that I was able to find myself again and refocus on the things I want to accomplish in life. Now for a period of rising intensity culminating in the completion of my first novel.
Sometimes life does read like a good novel; to reach your goal(s) you have to suffer, persevere, struggle, face disappointment and heartbreak; all strains of adversity. In your typical novel the hero overcomes these challenges and arises from the ashes stronger and wiser. All too often in life we are knocked down never to stand again. We put ourselves in a routine and refuse deviance from it. We eat at the same places, talk to the same people, say the same prayers and watch the same shows. Life is far from the mundane that people paint it as!
Watch an old western instead of the daily show, eat mexican instead of chinese food, pray for your cat instead of your mom and talk to the single mom at the laundromat.
Life is too short to waste. Now if you will excuse me I have some writing to do. :)
For those asking I'll put up the rest of the Lifesource project when it's done. lol
I know I've said this before; but life has an ebb and flow. It's unescapable really. Sometimes we are drawn into the quiet and reflective, other times we are intensely active. It is in the quiet that I was able to find myself again and refocus on the things I want to accomplish in life. Now for a period of rising intensity culminating in the completion of my first novel.
Sometimes life does read like a good novel; to reach your goal(s) you have to suffer, persevere, struggle, face disappointment and heartbreak; all strains of adversity. In your typical novel the hero overcomes these challenges and arises from the ashes stronger and wiser. All too often in life we are knocked down never to stand again. We put ourselves in a routine and refuse deviance from it. We eat at the same places, talk to the same people, say the same prayers and watch the same shows. Life is far from the mundane that people paint it as!
Watch an old western instead of the daily show, eat mexican instead of chinese food, pray for your cat instead of your mom and talk to the single mom at the laundromat.
Life is too short to waste. Now if you will excuse me I have some writing to do. :)
For those asking I'll put up the rest of the Lifesource project when it's done. lol
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Lifesource Project Part 1
Of all the projects a writer can embark on: one of the most profound and far reaching is the exploration of both himself and the human condition. It is by understanding themselves that many of the greatest minds of humanity have reached their conclusions. I frequently explore here my dreams: both the lucid and the raw. I have spoke about the connection I feel towards the source of all. I even spoke of my depression and sadness in the wake of intense illness. It is rare however that I speak about my hopes and ideals. Even more rare that I speak of the principals that guide my life.
Originally this project was to be secret. It would be guidelines for my own personal use. Not strict rules but rather guidelines and advice seasoned with both my own wisdom and the wisdom I have gleaned from others. The secrecy was so no rival could exploit it to undo me.
As I change these thoughts to words I was struck with the realization that no rival could exploit this against me. There is no weakness to acting honestly and with a full heart. So here is the first half of the first draft. All the words are my own. Similarities to the work of others is entirely possible but not intentional.
The soul is meant to be full of the light of joy and darkness of sorrow. We should never deny either; nor should we avoid joy and seek sorrow.
Act according to whom you are. Do not pretend. Do not lie. Do not strive beyond your means. Do not allow things that are evil to enter your heart; do not let others change you.
If you can say something better with three words then two: you should do so.
There is no justice in revenge and little satisfaction in justice.
Do not force your will on others.
Love as much as you can. Love your friends. Love your family. Love your wife/girlfriend and love yourself.
An action that preserves harmony and balance is better then an action that is futile or vain.
Lie only to your enemies: and only if you have no recourse.
Lie to your friends to deceive your enemies. But do so only with the utmost regret and gravity. Let there be no other recourse; also give apology for your deception.
Experience and memory define us. The content of our thoughts is less important then how we choose to act on them. That is akin to saying oxygen is more important then trees.
To an enemy, rival or opponent ruthlessness is not only condoned but also necessary.
When a battle is worth winning you should use all tools within your disposal to accomplish that.
Defeat does not diminish your honor: when you strive to your utmost and uphold your principals you not only retain honor but also strengthen it.
Do not fall prey to sympathy ploys or charity. True charity is not given out of guilt or the machinations of the weak.
Guilt is a tool of the weak. A warrior uses the passion of his beliefs and the persuasiveness of their words.
Fight for what you believe in.
Do not silence your critics.
When a man is both your friend and enemy: treat him as both.
Give him no mercy. But instead respect him by using your abilities at their utmost.
Never deny your feelings. Never hide your feelings. Do not allow others to use your feelings as a weapon.
Honor, dignity and respect are ideals worthy of practice and reverence.
Live life to it’s fullest: from the minute to the profound.
Always grant forgiveness when you are asked for it. But be wary of giving away your trust.
If you act with uncertainty you will falter. If you act without flexibility you will snap. If you lie and use cunning your words will become a heavy burden.
Take all things in moderation; even moderation itself.
Do not become blinded by love or hate. If you must act do so with open eyes.
Persistence is the key to success. Success is one path to explore the self.
Never relinquish hope. Never dilute yourself into overreaching mistakes.
Sometimes you walk your path alone. Sometimes you walk it with a friend. But when your friend’s path breaks with yours it is foolish to follow.
Like smoldering flames the tension of hate, distrust, pain and fear will become worse if unattended.
There is nothing more precious to give then yourself. There is nothing more precious to lose. Nothing more precious to have attacked.
A fool is a man who ignores his own heart.
If an enemy is beyond redemption his only mercy is complete defeat. Take away his will to cause harm. Take away his ability to fight. Seize the dark from his heart and leave only fear.
Forgive an insult once. Correct it a second time. The third insult does not go unanswered.
I would like to thank everyone who has served to inspire me and test my mettle. Even the spite and fire of my enemies has not been wasted; I do however feel that thanking my enemies and rivals is too much. Thanks to those who allowed me to use them as target dummies for the past week. I have had many masters, many teachers and many rivals. Each has taught me something I could not learn on my own. Someday the wisdom I have accumulated will be passed down to my students and children. With luck they can avoid some of the mistakes I made (While making brand new mistakes of their own lol.)
When one strives and struggles he sometimes forgets to give his soul respite. I will finish the second half of this when I have finished resting my spirit and soul.
How does one rest the spirit and the soul?
That children is easy: You must feed it. Like the body it requires nourishment.
How do you feed the soul? With meditation and thoughtful reflection. With the warmth of friendship and the beauty of nature.
Originally this project was to be secret. It would be guidelines for my own personal use. Not strict rules but rather guidelines and advice seasoned with both my own wisdom and the wisdom I have gleaned from others. The secrecy was so no rival could exploit it to undo me.
As I change these thoughts to words I was struck with the realization that no rival could exploit this against me. There is no weakness to acting honestly and with a full heart. So here is the first half of the first draft. All the words are my own. Similarities to the work of others is entirely possible but not intentional.
The soul is meant to be full of the light of joy and darkness of sorrow. We should never deny either; nor should we avoid joy and seek sorrow.
Act according to whom you are. Do not pretend. Do not lie. Do not strive beyond your means. Do not allow things that are evil to enter your heart; do not let others change you.
If you can say something better with three words then two: you should do so.
There is no justice in revenge and little satisfaction in justice.
Do not force your will on others.
Love as much as you can. Love your friends. Love your family. Love your wife/girlfriend and love yourself.
An action that preserves harmony and balance is better then an action that is futile or vain.
Lie only to your enemies: and only if you have no recourse.
Lie to your friends to deceive your enemies. But do so only with the utmost regret and gravity. Let there be no other recourse; also give apology for your deception.
Experience and memory define us. The content of our thoughts is less important then how we choose to act on them. That is akin to saying oxygen is more important then trees.
To an enemy, rival or opponent ruthlessness is not only condoned but also necessary.
When a battle is worth winning you should use all tools within your disposal to accomplish that.
Defeat does not diminish your honor: when you strive to your utmost and uphold your principals you not only retain honor but also strengthen it.
Do not fall prey to sympathy ploys or charity. True charity is not given out of guilt or the machinations of the weak.
Guilt is a tool of the weak. A warrior uses the passion of his beliefs and the persuasiveness of their words.
Fight for what you believe in.
Do not silence your critics.
When a man is both your friend and enemy: treat him as both.
Give him no mercy. But instead respect him by using your abilities at their utmost.
Never deny your feelings. Never hide your feelings. Do not allow others to use your feelings as a weapon.
Honor, dignity and respect are ideals worthy of practice and reverence.
Live life to it’s fullest: from the minute to the profound.
Always grant forgiveness when you are asked for it. But be wary of giving away your trust.
If you act with uncertainty you will falter. If you act without flexibility you will snap. If you lie and use cunning your words will become a heavy burden.
Take all things in moderation; even moderation itself.
Do not become blinded by love or hate. If you must act do so with open eyes.
Persistence is the key to success. Success is one path to explore the self.
Never relinquish hope. Never dilute yourself into overreaching mistakes.
Sometimes you walk your path alone. Sometimes you walk it with a friend. But when your friend’s path breaks with yours it is foolish to follow.
Like smoldering flames the tension of hate, distrust, pain and fear will become worse if unattended.
There is nothing more precious to give then yourself. There is nothing more precious to lose. Nothing more precious to have attacked.
A fool is a man who ignores his own heart.
If an enemy is beyond redemption his only mercy is complete defeat. Take away his will to cause harm. Take away his ability to fight. Seize the dark from his heart and leave only fear.
Forgive an insult once. Correct it a second time. The third insult does not go unanswered.
I would like to thank everyone who has served to inspire me and test my mettle. Even the spite and fire of my enemies has not been wasted; I do however feel that thanking my enemies and rivals is too much. Thanks to those who allowed me to use them as target dummies for the past week. I have had many masters, many teachers and many rivals. Each has taught me something I could not learn on my own. Someday the wisdom I have accumulated will be passed down to my students and children. With luck they can avoid some of the mistakes I made (While making brand new mistakes of their own lol.)
When one strives and struggles he sometimes forgets to give his soul respite. I will finish the second half of this when I have finished resting my spirit and soul.
How does one rest the spirit and the soul?
That children is easy: You must feed it. Like the body it requires nourishment.
How do you feed the soul? With meditation and thoughtful reflection. With the warmth of friendship and the beauty of nature.
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