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A message from a WoW Monk RPer

 

The following scroll was found posted on the faculty bulletin board, affixed with a quill. The handwriting is neat and the parchment new with some weight to it. You may find it to be a bit preachy if your personality is such that you dislike monks. Po looks at Big Mac.

 

 

The Few, The Proud and The Emotional

What makes it easier to control one’s emotions? I say it is education, otherwise known as the path to Enlightenment. The word enlightenment may carry with it some religious connotations, but I will visit it here as a series of realizations (however incomplete they may be at this stage).

The first realization is that emotions have the ability to release Sha. This is important to understand, because as you very well know we can bring harm upon others with our actions, but also with our innermost thoughts and emotions. You will discover this the hard way.

The second realization that emotions are, in essence, bio-electro-chemical interactions happening along countlessly finite dendritic synapses, the action potential along myelinated sheaths driving Sodium and Potassium ion pumps, and of course the so-called neurotransmitters bridging the gaps between the units of consciousness we call neurons.

The third realization that we are incredibly small in relation to the cosmos and all the revelations that brings. For example: we exist on one planet orbiting one star, in one galaxy, in one local group… this should make you feel quite insignificant. However, it should also make you feel special in that you are able to read and understand these symbols before you with an organ that has had a large amount of time to refine itself, through generations of deoxyribonucleic acid recombination.

The fourth realization that we generate seeds within our bodies that are the soul source of new life (life which is comparable to the body in which the seed was created). But all this comes from curiosity and a bit of potted soil in which it can be allowed to grow. If fed and nurtured correctly, perhaps it will one day outgrow its home and need to be transplanted to a garden, or even the wilds themselves, to grow amongst others. Ultimately, life tells us to pass on our seeds, whether by choice or design—or perhaps some other dichotomy destroying pathway.

The fifth realization comes in times where you find yourself not moving, stuck in the Stagnant Oasis with turtles nibbling on you (like I had been for quite some time). Finding the right nutrients to feed growth requires spreading roots. Exploring new domains—unexplored territory (unexplored by those aforementioned roots, of course) has the potential to, and nearly always leads to growth.

The sixth realization that family, friends, indeed other beings like you, and especially those who are different are important factors in your universe. We are social because we have language, or we have language because we are social, or perhaps neither is close to the truth. Regardless, understanding that being connected to others is a fundamental part of understanding—truly, everything you wish you understand, comes from being taught by those around you.

The seventh realization that we may or not be inherently violent due to our decision to kill for protein. To put it bluntly: we kill or others kill for us so we may ingest protein, and the decision lays with us to eat that delicious protein and support the cycle of violence (which I do support on occasion because of the pleasurable flavors) or to find alternatives so that we may relieve others of such burdens. This is a realization that is difficult to accept, because of the deliciousness of murdered proteins and our collectively moralistic cultures.

The eighth realization is simply that other cultures reveal to us our own biases and give to us self-reflexivity. So while it is easy to surround ourselves with only people, art, culture, ideas which align with our own biases, much can be learned by opening oneself to new ideas and perspectives, whether we accept them or not.

I wonder what realizations others have come to thus far in their journey, but at the same time fear how subjective those realizations may be, because I know having strong opinions is an important part of the culture of this language. Right Okami?

– ポ クラウドストイク

Be The Key

I’ll be sharing this at the January 12, 2017 Literary Conclave (a Stormwind University weekly public event on Wyrmrest Accord-US).

 

In this solitude I have come to realize
That I am no longer the same in your eyes
Twisted and contorted by vitriol and words
Happy memories of me have flown away like birds

But I protected mine, kept you safe from harm
With all of your idiosyncrasies, emotions and charm
And in time these memories will fade and disappear
Feathers falling from skin, my greatest fear

Our time together was innocent and pure
And for this loneliness those memories are the cure
I catch glimpses of you in my minds eye
Even when I’m not thinking of you, you fly by

I wonder if within us lays the ability to communicate
Our very life force sending messages of love, not hate
Consciousnesses somehow connected through dreams
The dancing, prancing, tossing, crossing streams

But the real world weighs heavily on me these days
And I find myself laying awake at night in a daze
Conflicted within, the dichotomy of love and reason
Watching as time marches by with seasons

Maybe you’ll never love me again, who really knows
A love the winter in your heart may have froze
But I’ll always keep you safe, tucked away someplace
I’ll be holding on tightly to you just in case.

元気ですか?知りません

あなたのために望みます
もあなたはすべています
私はこうかいしています
でも自分は愛しています
これは分かりましたか?
日本語からうれしいです

Schism

My mind is blown open like the expanding universe
This phantasmagoria is mine alone to traverse

I wonder who it is that appears to haunt me
But it’s sometimes impossible to see

Faces morph the closer I try to look
They’re the faces you see when you read a book

I’m filled with regret reminded of my mistakes
Ephemeral thoughts at my heart they do rake

I know I’m only one of billions of stars
In this galaxy we call the race that is ours

But I believe it’s possible to commune with others
In opposition to the superficial difference of colours

In the realm of consciousness exists the mechanism
That serves to make connections deep within a schism

In the domain of thought and dream
Intangible and unquantifiable crossing streams

And it’s within them that I consider the possibilities
The currently unknown and all our limits and abilities

The only conclusion I’ve drawn is that I believe.

The Darkmoon Faire

I shared this at this week’s Literary Conclave (held by Stormwind University on the Wyrmrest Accord US RP WoW server).

Purple and Green,
Strangest things you’ve ever seen!
Eerie woods all around,
Fun & Games will astound!
Days are long,
Come by for a song!
ETC will shred and slay,
They’ll make you dance all day!
Many prizes to be won,
The Dancing Bear weighs ton!
Monsters have nowhere to hide,
Just don’t forget your Adventurer’s Guide!
Every month we’ll come by,
Come mounted, by ship or fly.
Step on up to The Darkmoon Faire,
Bring the little ones to show you care!

This has been a message paid for by Silas Darkmoon.

Moan

The title of this poem is an allusion (maybe not anymore) to Moan by Trentemøller.

The journey well charted
Everything had its place
Until she came along
She was all I needed
She was all I wanted
The everything in my world
Everybody loved my baby
She came to the other side
But she saw madness and flew
My everything became black
My world suddenly so empty
Feeling she would return
Days become years
And silence a cold winter
The flame within my heart
Only memories to keep me warm
All the lonely ones
In the graveyard alone
I belong to them now
Ravens forming an unkindness
The black sentinels
We with sorrow laden
Daggers from the past
Moving ever forward
Remember and we are there
Haunted
Melancholy
Still
We will never know love again
At least we have each other
We are The Wretched
We are The Kindred
And in the end
We still pretend.

Neverwinter

Eternally burning in the darkness
Is Lord Neverwinter the ember
He is not in the slightest heartless
For while the snow falls in December

He is reminded of a love that burns
A love that has kept him alive
And it is for this love that he yearns
So he is ablaze in the cold, and thrives.

The Fire Line

Inspired by the events of the Fort McMurray fire and a story heard on CBC’s “The Current”.


Breaking into houses, it’s not a crime,
To rescue animals on our down time.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Family photos burning in the fire,
A motorcycle with melted tires.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Taking our trucks back to refuel,
The high revving ever so cruel.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Heavy hose full of rushing water,
In my suit thinking of my daughter.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Pure adrenaline keeping us going,
Exhaustion creeping, raging fire blowing.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Apocalyptic scene, we protect what we can,
Bulldozers pushing car, truck and van.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Brands floating through black smoke,
It stings my lungs, it will make you choke.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

We are retreating as it’s taking houses,
People are lucky to be with their spouses.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Burning embers allowing it to travel,
Yelling over it, we will not unravel.
Everything will be fine,
Just hold the line.

Things Still On The Surface

I remember,
the little lizards on the bathroom window
them eating the bugs attracted by the light
the smell of her shampoo on her wet hair
standing there putting soap on her back
when she was sick and throwing up
holding her hair back and watching helpless
her stomping upstairs clearly upset
waiting a few minutes before knocking
when she opened the door, a hug and a kiss
the skeleton that used to hang on the door
hearing The Planets for the first time
laying in bed, completely lost in the music
standing and being bit by many mosquitoes
when we took photographs in the backyard
the way she used to put on Burt’s Bees
a popping sound that indicated she was done
her tapping her thumb on the steering wheel
while she drove stick, all over the place
when she cried in my car, and I kissed her
I would cry, like I’d never see her again
I used to think she lived in a desert
with cacti, wearing cowboy boots and hats
when my body was just too slow for me
and I missed an opportunity to talk to her
feeling terrible for going out and leaving
when she called me and I was having dinner
there was a time when I wasn’t afraid to call
the often long and comfortable silences
being requested to do an asian accent
eating pizza while sitting on the floor
big spooning, not knowing where to put my arm
and the way her hair would tickle my nose
burning incense and her dad hated it
being a terrible gifter, but not her
getting her one good gift, a black dress
then not knowing where she could wear it
driving to Montreal, and having crepes
and the traffic jam we experienced
having beignets in a most familiar kitchen
all the many, many great home-cooked meals
when you would get drunk, quite easily
and not wanting to take advantage of you
even though we were lovers, it felt wrong
thinking not everyone felt that way
when I thought that she’d always be there
and the comfort that would bring me, always