I often speak of blood empathy. It's my own observation and deduction of perhaps, a greater answer to question not everyone is willing to dwell upon. I've never been one to walk the path, but meander among the trees, over stone and briefly stopping at water's edge to drink. I need very little in this way. I find myself not needing to question many things because of it, not because it's a way to answer them and satisfy, but to experience them through eyes already opened.
Magical? Perhaps. Both confusing at times and overwhelming? Definitely. Our limitations are put in place often by a desire to fit in or not draw attention. The gods, the spirits, the energy- dwells beyond those boundaries. Truth to and about oneself can only be enabled by your heart and many times it's other's perceptions that create the path you walk upon, leaving you to bend knee to each stone, branch, and river challenged by the path itself. Palm to ground and shoulders heavy many only stop briefly to rest. It's in this rest that solace resides and some people feel its draw to death, uncertainty, and misery as the only refuge from a greater pain. The rest, the comfort, the knowing is already there within yourself for each and every one of you.
Those before you- your blood, your ancestors, and the empathy you have towards them can bring to hand the answers you seek and yet very few realize it.
Many people write about things that they experience, dream, and ponder. They can be all one and the same. Experience should be dreams you had. Not everyone tells their own story, but they can. When you cannot find wind to carry voice, stone to etch, or wood to carve you only need ask yourself and those who came before you for the means. Theirs and your spirit are unbroken and timeless.
You are here now because they were, and through you they are.
I'm at a glade filled with very few questions anymore, just closing my eye I'm embraced by wind, surrounded by wood and protected by stone, each marked upon by the ages. All that is left are the simpler things that many take for granted- yet for me no gold men can bring, no song can soothe or no god can withhold the right to know one's own heart.
"My world is measured by the tightness of a small child's hand around my finger, the reflection of our world in my woman's eyes, and even a subtle woof of a wolf-daughter's passing into slumber at my feet. Nothing more. Reflect at times people, reflect. Look at what you choose to place on a scale and find the real worth of your mortality, and how it defines you, and carry it with you all year, not just on a given day. 2 years, and even 2 minutes, they can be the same." -Fen
I've fought in many arenas, some for public pleasure as a slave, others spectacle rarely seen by mortals and very few of the Gods. With each victory there is also lament for the blood on its sands because many of these battles weren't of my choosing. Defeat only finds me reborn as the sun rises from ashen earth to once again prove my worth and test theirs- for that is both my curse and my strength to call upon those same mortals and those same Gods to face me once again in an embrace that leads to but one final conclusion. They are small gain compared to the desire to feel that child's touch, hear his laughter and close my eyes to the warmth seen within my love's embrace, her voice telling me I can truly rest, that time stand still. Don't beg for immortality without first knowing the price you must pay in seeing the despair and transgression other's bring into your world as you pass through it.
Time is an enemy for them, and the shaping of men for the God's amusement.
Walk among them and know. You are stronger. When their names are no longer remembered and shackle removed with this knowledge you can finally rest until called upon again.