Be Silent
Be silent.
Choose to be silent.
Do not let words be your excuse
To forget who you are or ignore
The world around you.
Still the chatter
Of conflicting thoughts;
Things to do and places
To be.
Silence the television,
The radio,
The computer.
Turn off the lights,
The ringer on the phone,
And cover the clocks.
Be still.
Discover your soul
When everything else has become silent
And all that remains is the sound
Of rain falling on the roof.
-copyright by Zahrah, December 2005 (No More Illusions Blog Author)
4:20am.....
There's only one good reason for being awake at 4:20am.. Ok.. Two if you're a pot smoker.. But essentially, one.
A woman..
So.
I'm awake at 4:20, and its not because of a woman, its because my house-guest perfunctorally decided that turning down my air-conditioner meant turning *OFF* my airconditioner (but leaving the fan running) so I woke up at 3:30am to waves of ungodly heat.
Ok.. It probably wasn't more than like 75 degrees, but thats completely unacceptable to someone used to sleeping in a meat locker.
And you know whats worse? Its 4:20 (4:23am now), and since I'm awake, I'm thinking about the fact that my lovely Zahrah isn't around for me to talk to. Nor is anyone else. Which leads to a very long stretch of time where I'm *BORED* senseless, and thinking about the fact that in oh... 32 hours or so she'll be here. Which is a pleasant thought, but makes my arms and heart all achy to be holding her.
Tell me why I thought it was a good idea to go back to Portland for a week? Oh yeah, thats right... So I could miss her!
Yes, that was the logic... No.. I don't have to make sense.. Sod off.
Ok ok.. Convaluted logic time. We were seriously kicking around the idea of moving in together to begin with. But as you doubtless understand, we were a little leary (just a little) because of how quickly things are moving. So, I decided, after 2 weeks of staying up there, I was going to go back to Portland while waiting for word on a job I applied for up there. Some time apart to think it through ya understand.
I was ready to come home Friday morning. Waking up without her next to me was all I needed to convince me home is where my Zahrah is.
So..
As we've been asking people all week.
Is it Friday yet?
Ladies and gentleman of the court, I submit for your approval...
Life is a funny thing, and its full of its own twists and turns. Zahrah and I are moving in together. Call it fast, call it insane...
Call the hotline, we don't give a shit.
There are so many people out there that move slow, that worry over useless things, and that basically decide to waste the precious moments that life puts out there for you to enjoy.
I think that Mal (of Firefly fame) said it best.. " Someone's carrying a bullet for you right now, doesn't even know it. The trick is to die of old age before it finds you."
I only disagree on one point.. I intend to outrun that little fucker.. So folks, here it is, the beginning of what I firmly believe is the rest of my life. A life with this woman that is everything I've been looking for, and in many things, nothing like what I imagined. Its special, its beautiful, and its mine.
*cocks and loads his pistol*
Anyone who has any objections is welcome to step forward.. I've got a clip full of bullets, and an engraver.
Comfort Eagle - Cake
----------------------------------------------------------------------
We are building a religion,
We are building it bigger
We are widening the corridors and adding more lanes
We are building a religion.
A limited edition
We are now accepting callers for these pendant keychains
To resist it is useless,
It is useless to resist it
His cigerratte is burning but it never seems to ash
He is grooming his poodle
He is living comfort eagle
You can meet at his location but you'd better come with cash
Now his hat is on backwards. He can show you his tattoos
He is in the music buisness he is calling you "DUDE!"
Now today is tomorrow and tomorrow's today
And yesterday is weaving in and out
And the fluffy white lines that the airplane leaves behind
Are drifting right in front of the waning of the moon
He is handling the money. He's serving the food
He knows about your party. He is calling you "DUDE!"
Now, do you believe in the one big sign?
The double wide shine on the boot hills of your prime
Doesn't matter if you're skinny. Doesn't matter if you're fat.
You can dress up like a sultan in your onion-head hat
We are bulding a religion. We are making a brand
We're the only ones to turn to when your castles turn to sand
Take a bit of this apple, Mr. Corporate Events
Take a walk through the jungle of cardboard shedies and tents
Some people drink pepsi. Some people drink coke. (coke)
The wacky morning d.j. says democracy's a joke.
He says now, "Do you believe in the one big song?"
He's now accepting callers who would like to sing along
He says, "Do you believe in the one true edge?"
By fastening your saftey belts and stepping towards the ledge
He is handling the money. He is serving the food.
He is now accepting callers. He is calling me "DUDE!"
Do you believe in the one big sign?
The double wide shine on the boot hills of your prime.
There's no need to ask directions if you ever lose your mind
We're behind you. We're behind you.
And let us please remind you
We can send a car to find you
If you ever lose your way
We are bulding a religion...
We are bulding it bigger...
We are building............... a religion.......
A limited edition
We are now accepting callers for these beautiful pendant keychains
This was passed on to me today from a friend, and the dream it refers to is the dream of the SCA that we all try to live.
I've never found words that so accurately describe what the SCA is to me, and what I'd have it be to my children.
We are all, dear readers, born out of our time.
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Waken to the Dream
Within my arms you rest your head, swaddled in blankets tight
Wrapped safely up in dreams sweet song, sleep throughout this night
I’ll sing to you of days gone by, of days still yet unborn
For in your heart I see my hopes and joys become reborn
Will you be yourself a Promise, given by crowned king?
Devoting time and energy, a light to all you bring?
Walk proud in steps that Cailean walked, many have done so since
The days when Prince and Princess saw the power of innocence
Perhaps you’ll tread the garden path and become a silver Rose
As made by Irel and Rosalind whose beauty you’ve been bestowed
Your gentle fingers quick to pluck the burden from a friend
Will make light work for all involved, with smiles for duties end
Or maybe you will come to sing like lark in morning sun
And burning bright the Mullet’s light will show that you are young
Same King and Queen did first bestow to Timony this rank
To be thus called compatriot your mother’s voice you’ll thank.
Would you rather learn of battle, your name for combat known?
To stand and count yourself as one of young Brendon Swatko’s own?
King Hoegaarden, Chiara Queen, did recognize this skill
In ones so young they could not fight the Knights that they would kill.
Oh little one, who in my arms does sleep and worry nought
For you I tell the stories rich, the tales of battles fought
This game we play is all for you, your future and your dreams,
I promise to pass on to you, my love of what it means.
The Dream is yours to learn, embrace, and grow to always cherish,
To keep alive the things we share, and never let them perish,
For in the day that rises now, as you waken from your slumber,
Behold the Dream, of knights and Kings, who will count you in their number.
Written by Savya the Silent.
Good evening gentle readers..
Well, due to the insidiousness of Zahrah, I am now, once again, interred at her home in Concrete. :) I am here for the week, visiting in lieu of the various expenses that can be associated with travelling to eventually get to Coronation. (Ok, its a good excuse anyway.. So repeat it all with me.. "Aodhan is only there for a *WEEK* because its cheaper than travelling back and forth for Coronation." Right.. Now stop laughing.)
For those of you wondering about the title, Scribbles called Zahrah last night while we were on our way north from Portland. It just so happens she asked to talk to me right about the time we were passing an old adult novelty store in Chehalis that is so old, Abraham and his wives bought their marital aids there. It was the first shop set up by Cain after leaving Eden.. Really.. it was.
So I mention this to Scribbles (great first impression) because we were passing it. And then shortly thereafter pass an Applebees that was in Centralia.. Fairly recent addition, wasn't there when I lived there, and I was like. "Applebees? Porn and Applebees? Applebees IN MY TOWN? Sure.. Get a decent resteraunt AFTER I leave.."
And Applebees and Porn became my Blog post title for tonight.
I wish I had more to say, but at the moment I'm just kinda hanging around the house, waiting for Zahrah to get out of the shower. Well.. I guess there's ONE more thing. Nah, I think I'll let Zahrah post about that.
This was passed on to me today from a friend, and the dream it refers to is the dream of the SCA that we all try to live.
I've never found words that so accurately describe what the SCA is to me, and what I'd have it be to my children.
We are all, dear readers, born out of our time.
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Waken to the Dream
Within my arms you rest your head, swaddled in blankets tight
Wrapped safely up in dreams sweet song, sleep throughout this night
I’ll sing to you of days gone by, of days still yet unborn
For in your heart I see my hopes and joys become reborn
Will you be yourself a Promise, given by crowned king?
Devoting time and energy, a light to all you bring?
Walk proud in steps that Cailean walked, many have done so since
The days when Prince and Princess saw the power of innocence
Perhaps you’ll tread the garden path and become a silver Rose
As made by Irel and Rosalind whose beauty you’ve been bestowed
Your gentle fingers quick to pluck the burden from a friend
Will make light work for all involved, with smiles for duties end
Or maybe you will come to sing like lark in morning sun
And burning bright the Mullet’s light will show that you are young
Same King and Queen did first bestow to Timony this rank
To be thus called compatriot your mother’s voice you’ll thank.
Would you rather learn of battle, your name for combat known?
To stand and count yourself as one of young Brendon Swatko’s own?
King Hoegaarden, Chiara Queen, did recognize this skill
In ones so young they could not fight the Knights that they would kill.
Oh little one, who in my arms does sleep and worry nought
For you I tell the stories rich, the tales of battles fought
This game we play is all for you, your future and your dreams,
I promise to pass on to you, my love of what it means.
The Dream is yours to learn, embrace, and grow to always cherish,
To keep alive the things we share, and never let them perish,
For in the day that rises now, as you waken from your slumber,
Behold the Dream, of knights and Kings, who will count you in their number.
Written by Savya the Silent.
A dark hall of vibrant green, a clear night sky with stars shining like crystals in a velvet sea.
In the quiet, a song rises, a single voice, rising to the heavens, lanterns of flowered glass shimmering along a pathway of flickering shadow and light.
The wind moves quiet in the trees, and along the path, dimly lit by the candles glow are seated a gathering from all walks, delicate elves in diaphonous gowns and shirts of shimmering green, hobbits by the pathway in their best greens, yellows and browns, humans in all their varied multitude.
The song rises higher, permeating the air with the force of life and spirit. Quietly at first, behind the song, a steady beat of drums rise, not quick, but slow, like the steady beat of a peaceful heart, playing into the song.
From beyond the hill at the paths end torchlight can be seen, brightening the dark with the red-golden cast of living fire, and the drums rise, not so loud as to be overpowering, but still that steady beating, throbbing of lifes very pulse.
Over the edge of the rise can now be seen a pair of girls in silken silver and green gowns, dancing the path in slow spirals, holding baskets of woven flowers. As they come down the path they pause along the way, placing the wreaths upon the attendants heads, and whispering blessings to them. Behind them a pair of men in green and golden Caftans of the same material as those who came ahead, each of them carrying a basket of candles on their left arms, a lit candle in the hand of same.
They go behind the girls, again picking out members of the guests at random, handing them a candle, and as they light it asking that they let their light join with ours, a hundred quiet sparks of light against the heart of loves own glow.
As the men reach the halfway point, the bride and groom come over the ridge, both with their attendants. The bride is dress is adorned with green and silver threads, sparkling in the firelight, and her veil is made of flowers, the same that trim her gown and gossamer cloak. The groom is dressed in a style similar to the candle-bearers, but ever more elaborate, his brow also adorned with a wreath of flowers, and flowers trim his cloak as well.
Next to each stands their attendants, stalwart guardians, dressed in a shimmering silver and green garb, each bearing a sword.
"Each of us has in our lives, those friends we call close to us, who guard us as fiercely as they do their own kin, and are guarded in return. I am here today to say that I have seen this man, and found him worthy, and pass her from the protection of my blade unto his."
"There is a myth told among many, that a mans heart is shallow and fickle. Truer is that they are like a seed in winter, full of vibrant life beneath the white snow. But as the seed, when a light as bright as the sun comes, and melts away the snow, the seed will blossom into its fullest glory. But there are many false springs, and only our friends can see that it is indeed the last frost, and it is the true time of life at last. My friend has found his true spring, and I call her so. And as he takes her into his life I give my blessing, and lend my blade to his against any that would seek to strike that flower low."
Well gentle readers, I have made it to darling Zahrah's domicile in a number of pieces relatively close to the number I started in. For those of you who consider, for even a moment, riding Greyhound.. Here's my little piece of advice.
*DON'T* for the love of god don't. Because the bus I was on was an hour late, I would have had to wait until the 12:45 am bus to ride the rest of my trip north from Seattle to Mt. Vernon. Instead, after frantically calling around trying to get ahold of Zahrah's number (a series of hideous travesties I deign not to go into now, lets just say my self respect was laid on a chopping block and utterly annihilated by the end of said task, which wound up being successful. In a way. Kind of like how demolishing a city block is a successful way to close down the deli on said block).
So while I'm waiting, my day planner gets swiped... I'll place no blame on any other than myself for this. It vanished.. With my return ticket home inside. *YAY ME* So I call Greyhound to ask if they'll issue me another ticket since I still have my confirmation number. Need I mention that they were 'Sorry, nope, yer SOL'. *JOY*. So, I came up here with a relatively reasonable amount of money to spend, and after the fiasco in Seattle, I am now left with just enough to buy a ticket home.
Someone.. Shoot me.
HOWEVER.. Once Zahrah arrived (Surely thinking I'm far more trouble than I'm worth now ;) ) in Seattle to bring me the rest of the way up to her home, things started marginally improving.
Except.
She had downed a mega-dose of green tea before coming to get me lest she fall asleep on the trip. I believe her upper eyelids met her lower at somewhere around 5am. Though according to her there was not much sleep between our attempting to sleep at 3am, and our crawling from bed at noonish.
This is day one of 3 (full days) I'll be here, and things are already looking relatively untainted by the initial get-go.
Updates to come as they come, and with no more frequency than that. :)
Though I must say I'm quite ecstatically happy to be here with her, and actually able to take her into my arms when the mood strikes, rather than merely wishing I could. For that alone, a trip twice as perilous and three times as long would've been worth the trouble.
