Here we share the thoughts and actions by other Seekers at our fine Paladin School.
by Tyren
I never spend much time thinking about the path I chose, I'm simply
glad that I'm here.
I've never been one to leap into the fray, preferring to observe and
act in time.
Some would say I'm less paladin more mage, I say that I just slay trolls
as they come.
Why search for evils when there's so much here to be done.
I am a paladin, because I have a strong sense of wrong and right.
My soul aches to do right and make change in people's lives.
Whenever my sight catches hurt in people's eyes.
I often find myself doing what I can.
I do not slay dragons like St. George or Musashi But my plan to world peace Is to help one person at a time.
I am a pebble in the world pool, and my small deeds make ripples, felt and seen for years and miles around.
While what follows (what i have most recently "fixed") may seem to be rather focused on the self for one upon a paladin's path, i would point out that it is often necessary to set one's own house in order first before one can assist others. . .
Since shortly after joining the guild i came out to Salt Lake City to seek employment (as there is little to be had in Portland), and was staying with 'a friend of a friend'. After 2 weeks i was suddenly asked to leave quite early one morning and so found myself 'homeless' for the first time in my life, with no idea where to turn! Undaunted, (well, okay, a little {well, a lot actually} daunted those first couple of days) i walked the day into town (having no bus fare even) and managed to locate food and lodging thru various charity services in the city. Since then i have found employment (by following through on queries made prior to my sudden dislocation), further shelter (90 days), aquired local identification, banking and wireless services, and located the local Zen Buddhist sangha among whom i now continue my Dharma studies.
However, more important than these living necessities has been to fix my own perceptions and unwillingness/inability to trust in the infinite providence of the universe- it has quickly become quite apparent to me that the basic needs in life are indeed always provided for. Being suddenly detached from a great deal of 'stuff' (which i had been forced to abandon) has pared my way of life down to it's simplest. i live day to day much as a mendicant monk: rising early to meditate then going out to beg my morning meal (at a local cathedral rectory). The rest of my time, when not at work, is spent either in sutra study or assisting those around me. While many at the homeless shelter, sadly, have no desire to change their situation, pursuing intoxicants rather than any way out of their situations, there are still those who are choosing to rise to whatever challenges have recently presented themselves in their lives and move forward. These i befriend and aid as i am able.
by Shahji
The sweetness of honey
The sting of the bee,
The beauty of the rose
The bite of the thorn
All go together.
Be grateful for life
With all its joy and sorrow,
'Tis one thing you can
Neither lend nor borrow!
by Chewierockdj
"What can I do?"
Asked the man with no sword
" I have some conviction
And seek no reward"
"Anything, sir"
Said the man with no shield
" I try to bring justice
With that which I wield"
Another chimed in
Who had only his hands
He bears no aggression
But valiantly stands
"I seek out knowledge
Wherever it lies
And pass it to others
So they may be wise"
Up stood an old man
From out of a field
" Many men have I hurt
But many more healed"
"Follow your convictions
And don't ever yield
Through that your true purpose
Will be revealed"
by Chewierockdj
Tonight I was at a party, hanging around and talking to a friend of
mine and
his girlfriend Becky (they've been official for maybe 2 weeks, both very
awkward nerdy types). Becky looked uncomfortable, so I asked her why.
It
turns out her back was immensely knotted up. I suggested that Shawn provide
a massage, as that would soothe the aching back and also give a good
opportunity for the two of them to have a moment. The revelation was
that
apparently Shawn had tried a few times and discovered that he's not too
good
at the whole backrub thing. I, being more experienced, suggested that
I
give it a try and show him a few techniques. Just as I'd planned, after
a
few minutes she loosened up a lot. I then had Shawn finish the job, pointed
out how to find the trouble spots, and coached him for about 5 minutes
on
how to apply proper pressure and whatnot... the technical bit isn't so
important.
Here's the analysis from my end:
There was an awkwardness between them because she had a need that Shawn
had
failed to fulfill. He felt a bit defeated and she was all knotty and
sore
in her back. No good. I relieved most of the back problem, then before
actually completing the task and after instructing Shawn a bit on technique,
I let him finish her off... leaving her with the final impression of
HIM
making her feel good. He got to feel good because of his newfound adequacy.
Maybe it was just a momentary feel-good for them, maybe it'll help them
get closer in the future.
by Quiddity
I will not fool you or myself in saying that I am a Paladin out of pure concern for others. I know myself far too much to be happy with it and I know my main motivation is to be loved, I never get enough love and I need people to give my love to. I don’t think anybody is giving out of pure goodness we all seek for something. Some, like me, just want to be loved, others need to redeem themselves though they are not necessarily responsible for whatever had happened.
Don’t think it’s because I didn’t get love as a kid, my parents loved me, and my sister too. I don’t know what happened but at some point, became highly unconfident. I became one of the kids “who stink” ; there’s always one, in every class. They don’t smell bad, it’s just what the other kids say to keep them away. It lasted until secondary school, I managed to stick with a popular girl and her friends but I didn’t become popular myself. I tried to be nice with everybody so they would like me and want to stick with me, even if it was difficult because my friends would tell me their little sorrows and those I wanted because it would have meant I had the happiness they had before loosing it. I could have turned into someone deeply bitter but fate must have helped me on this one. Because I was drawing a little, I choose to study art and there are very few places where to. So I left all the people I knew so far and start afresh.
In art schools, you find two kinds of students : there are those who think they are artists already, they look confident, they are successful, they are (yes, that very word) popular. And there are the others, the Van Goghs who are full of doubts, quirky. What makes them go forward is the despair that they sometimes translate into talent. They are former “kids who stink” and they hope that within this new environment, they will smell better and be recognised for what they are, normal kids. And that’s what I hoped too. I had this utopian view that artists are open-minded.
Ensued what happens in every new group : war for power and fame. And we lost, we ended up like intellectual punching-balls and comic relief. But something unusual happened. We, the stinky, the shy ones, the losers, instead of trying to push ourselves higher by pushing others lower, we became a group. One by one, those you felt left behind join us. Even some of the “popular” ended up in the “group”. We were solid and we helped each other feeling good and feeling loved. I guess it happens at this moment in life, the moment we become young adults but for me, it was a rebirth and a revolution. If the weak stand together, they are strong. If you offer your hand to someone in need, it will help you more than leaving them behind. Being generous in time and love and help is keeping alive the hope that someone will be generous with you. We initiated traditions that help us go through the day because even if I compared us to little Van Goghs, we were far from being geniuses. Art is not like maths, someone tells you if what you have done is right or wrong but there are no charts, no “right answers”, there is not really a technique to improve or get an piece of art right every times and critics for our groups could be hard blows. Some of us were really fragile, some of us came to terrible extremities and someone even argued that we were brooding together and making things worse for ourselves. A psychologist was mandated to see what was wrong… It became a crisis for the whole school ! Eventually, she found out we were sane and she left it at that.
What I keep from these years is a lot of good times spent in a group where we didn’t need impress anybody, full of love and a sense of belonging.
Years have passed, the group, though thinner, still exists but we learnt to live outside it. One by one, we left for new cities, new adventures. I’ve learned to give for the sake of giving, making other people feel loved too but deep, deep within me I know I still yearn to be loved. I don’t think it makes what I give less worthwhile because I don’t deprive people of anything by hoping they’ll love me in return and I don’t let down those you don’t give in return. I did let down people who have hurt me because I’m not masochistic enough to offer a second cheek.
Now giving is something natural to me and if I ever need a proof, I have a good look at my friends and they are wonderful people, then I know I must be wonderful too because they love me not because I’m nice to them but because I am me, and being nice is a genuine part of me.
by Thalius
A good Paladin is brave and true,
Standing by your side through and through.
They'll lend a hand to even the largest task,
And all you need to do is ask.
A Paladin asks not for reward,
Not a silver shield nor a golden sword.
Paladins receive a gift that can keep them walking for miles.
Would you believe that gift is only a smile?
A Paladin stands up for what is right,
And will hold to it even after a tough fight.
They work very hard so that maybe in the long run,
The Paladin's task will one day be done.
by Taranic
A couple of days ago I found myself in the position to help someone. And while I may not have fixed something, I probably did help a little..
I found myself at the house of a couple of friends. I had been invited over for dinner (and might I just add, the food was marvelous) but I wasn't the only one.
Another friend of the family's found herself enjoying the meal as much as I had. I think she was the sister of the wife, but I'm afraid the technicalities of their relation has, so far, eluded me. Luckily, it is not of too great importance for this story) The only problem she had was holding her knife and fork.
That morning, when she had closed the door, she had forgotten to remove her hand and as a result her finger had gotten stuck between the door and the doorpost. It was one of those doors that close once you give them a shove, the "we don't brake for no bunnies" kind.
Her finger was swollen, and under her nail there was a splotch of blue, indicating blood had gathered there.
I mentioned having had something similar befall me when I myself was younger (and more foolish around doors) and that the doctor who had treated me had done so in rather a short amount of time, and with household equipment.
So I regaled my friends, and their friend/sister/cousin... of one night, when I had shut the door of my van and found that fingers aren't made for placing between two hard places meeting eachother intimately at one point in space.
Im babbling, forgive me, I tend to get going after a while, heh.
Anyway, we then moved on to other things, and so it came as a bit of a surprise when at the end of the evening this woman asked me to treat her finger for me. Since I'm not exactly what you'd call a trained professional, or even a student of the medical arts, I wasn't quite certain that was the best of ideas, but she insisted, saying she wasn't about to go to the doctor's for something as small as that.
Ah, but she'd come to a complete stranger? Well, that wasn't completely true, we had met once before, and she had been invited to the meal, instead of coming to me. That was incidental and I'm babbling once more.
My friend's coerced me into practicing Medieval Medicine, however, and I told them to get me a couple of household items. It didn't take them long to get it all, these were items you could find lying about the house, after all, and after sterilising the 'equipment', I set about making a hole in the woman's finger nail.
Im not quite sure I should mention the exact procedure here, since it made several people go 'ewwww' when I explained what I'd been doing during the weekend, but suffice it to say that the woman felt better when she left than when she arrived.
by Quiddity
"For those who feel they don't belong
To this world of tiny hopes and selfishness,
Who dream of great deeds and Hero's song
A School exists, glowing softly among the mess.
Do not count its value by its life time!
Do not seek with earthly senses for old stones!
For this place belongs to another space and time,
It's existence in our world relies on zeros and ones.
From the far away Marete in another land,
Via the World Wide Web came a merry band
To teach and instruct us in the forgotten art
Of being a Hero, valiant and true at Heart.
Come, my friend! Whatever you may be
The Great Test will find the right classes for thee.
Searching your soul, you heart and what you've done
After a few questions, on a new path you'll be gone.
The fearless defender seeking for adventure
Will measure themselves to their kind in the Warrior league
While the cleverest of all will be free to venture
The Wizard's Forest of Knowledge and learn from every twig.
The mischievous but witty one will find the doors open wide
To have fun and improve their skills in the Rogue company
While the fair and loyal companion may take pride
In finding good fellows in the Paladin's community.
So enroll right now, don't be a fool
At the "How to be a Hero" Correspondence school!"
By East
The man sighed and leaned back into the shade, resting against one of the few remaining water coolers. His hand rested on his loaded M-16, never far from his side. He had just come off watch and wanted a shower more than anything, but there wasn’t water to spare this far out from the main supply line. It had been quiet since they had lost most of a scout patrol last week. The few scouts that returned reported increased activity on the borders of their patrol area. Everyone was on edge. Tense laughter could occasionally be heard from one tent or another, but for the most part, silence was their constant companion. It was a silence that was to be short-lived.
Wiping his sweaty, grimy face with his camouflaged sleeve, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dog-eared photograph. A beautiful brunette stared back at him from a bed of deep green grass, sparkling blue water behind her. Two small twins with his eyes sat on either side of her. All three smiled at him. He smiled back. He tried to imagine their eyes one year wiser now, their sturdy bodies probably several inches taller…his boys growing to men without him there.
With a sigh, he put the photo back into his left breast pocket. They had been due to rotate out for leave a month ago, but the order had been rescinded when activity in the area had escalated. They had been told that maybe if things calmed down in the next few months they could afford to send them out.
Shots rang out in the air, followed by shouting over the horizon. So much for calming down. The soldier grabbed his weapon and some spare clips and rushed out to meet the passing jeep that would take he and his comrades out to the fight.
The lab was dark, save for the light cast by a lone work lamp at a worktable in the far corner. A woman sat hunched over mounds of papers, scattered in what seemed a haphazard manner across the desk. Test tubes and a microscope bordered the seeming chaos. While others made comments and left file folders by her locker, she knew exactly where every paper was. If she ever organized it, she’d never find anything. She scribbled another result onto the datasheet in front of her. Her husband kept telling her to get a laptop that would correlate the data as she went, but it felt like cheating to her. Besides, she trusted her own math more than the computer. She glanced back into her microscope, peering at the slow chemical reaction. Bother, now she needed the handbook.
They kept all the books on the other side of the lab, beside the large, gaudy sign that read “Bell Pharmaceuticals” as if they would forget where they worked if they weren’t reminded. They kept telling her that was the only place where there was space enough, but she was convinced they did it to make her exercise. She was also convinced that’s why they kept the handbook on the top shelf. The handbook was actually a very heavy, very large book…scientist humor deemed it be called the handbook. She’d circled “handbook” in the dictionary as “a concise manual or book of reference to be carried in the hand. The woman pulled over the stepstool and retrieved the book from its place incredibly out of the way. She hugged the 35 lb book to her chest and carried it back over to her desk, setting it down with a whomp, sending papers scattering. She glanced surprised at the clock that had been unearthed. It read 1:00 AM. Looking down at her watch, confused, she realized that it had stopped at 7pm and she hadn’t noticed that time hadn’t moved. Looking out the window, night glistened. She groaned. She hadn’t even called home to tell him she’d be working late…again. No sense calling to wake him now. Settling back into her chair, the woman gave a passing wonder as to why he hadn’t called to check on her as she dove back into her work.
He worked in shadow and lies. He was so good at it now, he could lie to his mother and she’d never suspect a thing. He’d been sitting and waiting for an hour now, but he could easily wait another four without fidgeting. Patience was another necessity. He scratched his scraggly goatee and ran his hands through his unruly hair that his wife hated, but it too was part of the job.
“Bravo 2,” he heard in his ear, “subjects spotted. They’re scouting the area. Estimate time of contact two minutes.”
“Roger,” he replied without moving his lips.
In exactly two minutes, a pair of headlights flipped on in the distance, blinding him. He got out of his car and walked with his hands loosely at his sides towards the end of the alley. As he neared, he turned in a circle, lifted his shirt, and stopped ten feet from the car.
“Come on up, man,” a voice called out of the light. The man rounded the side of the car.
“What’s shaking Ponch?” he smiled and clasped the other man’s wrist.
“Same old,” the dealer smiled, “Got a good shipment in for you this time,” he went around to the trunk while his companion kept watch by the front, “We got some killer reds in with this one with the promise of more to come if there’s a market for it.”
“Oh, I think I know of a few of my customers that would go for that,” he said nonchalantly as he examined the packets with a red skull and crossbones on it, “This stuff China Red I take it?”
“The one and only. Now you know it’s going to cost you a bit more with the good stuff. How much you want?”
“I’ll take the usual plus 4 of the red to start out with. If my people like I and can handle it, I’ll pick up more next time.”
“So you say,” the dealer began packing up his order. The other man offered him a smoke, which he took, lighting if off the man’s Harley-Davidson zippo.
“All there, man. Let’s see the bread.”
The man pulled out two rolls from his pocket and peeled off ten bills.
The dealer counted them twice, holding each up to the headlights, “Primo as always my man. Pleasure doing business.”
“Likewise, Ponch. I’ll get back to you if I need more red next time.”
“You know the number,” the two got back into their cars and backed out of the alley as the man tucked the package under his arm. He turned back towards his car.
“You get all that?”
“Loud, clear, and recorded boss. What’s the word.”
“They’re putting red out. We’re going to have junkies dropping like flies. We’ve got enough out of this one. Take him.”
“He unlocked his trunk and dropped the package into a chest. He padlocked the chest and shut the trunk. He could hear sirens and a PA in the distance, ordering men out of a car. He sat heavily back into the driver’s seat and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number without looking at the keypad.
“Hey baby, I’m coming home."
The woman wrapped her shawl tighter around her head as the wind picked up. Dust and scrub tumbled ahead of her and the clouds were dark on the horizon. Two boys from her class rushed by her, shouting at her in their own language and urging her to hurry to shelter. Shelter, as they saw it, was a home made of branches and rope with a thatched rooftop. She picked up her pace and followed the boys inside their home. Inside, their mother was tending to their sister who had been ill with pneumonia for several days now. The doctor was due to fly in at the end of the week, but the woman had her doubts as to whether the child would make it.
“Teacher, teacher, can we go over our problems while the storm passes?” the boys held out their pads of paper and the math assignment she had given them.
She smiled at them, seeing that they had not begun working on them, “Ah, you wish me to feed the knowledge to you like a baby?” She asked in their language. The boys grinned wider, “I will look at them when you finish and help you where you don’t understand.”
The boys laughed, caught at their game, but willing to work hard regardless. Thunder began to roll and the girl on the deceptively sturdy cot whimpered in fear. She shifted to move beside her. The little girl was a bright student in her class. She enjoyed writing English letters and learning English words.
“Hello my sunshine,” the teacher spoke to her softly, “Do not fear the thunder. It is simply the sky talking to the earth. They pass their travels to each other so that all the lands and sky may know all they can about each tribe on the earth.”
“Do they talk about me?” The girl asked softly, her eyes delighted through her fever.
“Oh yes sunshine. The earth here tells the sky to be calm on Friday and to tell the earth where the doctor stays that he must come to see you then so you can be better and come back to class.”
“I would like to go back to class, Miss. I like making the strange letters.”
The woman smiled, “And I like to teach them to you.” The girl was tired, so the woman hummed a tune and held her hand as the storm passed over.
She knew she would be reassigned soon, and she would say goodbye to all of her friends here. She had taught the children of this village math and reading and helped their parents to learn how to grow crops from a land that fought against them with floods, fires, and droughts. Before this place, she had worked in a medical clinic at the front desk, watching a never-ending line of starved and sickened people come in and had seen many never come out. The work never stopped or slowed. She and those like her were always needed somewhere. She hoped that, one day, she would be called and told that there was no where for her to go. No one was in need of her help. Until that time, she rested her head against the stick wall that was beginning to leak and listened to the rain thrash down on the roof and the raspy breathing of the child at her side.
by Maylahni
In Scarlet red of setting sun
The girl is bathed in light.
Upon a rock, a cliff viewpoint
as day melts into night.
So long ago she made a vow
to take a heros' path.
To do what's right, to learn, to seek
Is all that she was asked.
And on that day her life was changed
remembering it now
Not knowing then how hard that it
would be to keep that vow.
She gave to those who had no hope
Forever will she hear the cries
of those she could not mend
Their minds clouded with anger
and their hearts too stiff to bend.
And as the last of golden sun
sinks below the earth
She wonders what her vow to be
a Paladin was worth.
Behind the tears for bitter souls
A smile goes unseen
And looking back upon her life
She wouldn't change a thing.
Around us all the world falls apart.
And those around us throw insults like darts.
The world needs those to stand up
To those who are teased, like pouring water into a dry cup.
Paladins are the ones to do so,
When bulles are their worst foe.
And those who are stood up for grow,
Until they themselves have seeds to sow.
Paladins have been there through the ages,
Just like the old and the young sages.
They often come in unlikely places,
Sometimes they are even those unlikely ones decked in laces.
Paladins may not know their true selves until they see someone in need,
And then they will reveal themselves, and all trouble will feed
Their true Paladin selves.
So, those who are Paladin should not be placed on shelves,
but looked up to by all.
Paladins will catch you when you fall.
by East
East sat quietly on a small hill overlooking the ocean beyond. Sighing softly, she enjoyed the feel of the ocean breeze lifting away the brown hair that often fell over her eyes and the smell of salt air it left lingering around her. A small smile tugged at the right corner of her lips, watching sea birds dive into the water for the tiny glimmering fish beneath the surface. She could hear the sounds of children’s laughter just over the hill and the hurried footsteps of their parents as they tried in vain to corral their excited offspring.
East stood slowly, stretching her short frame. She glanced at her two companions, sleeping peacefully, one curled around the other, and decided to leave them be for a few more moments. Her gaze turned once again to the blue-gray ocean that stretched endlessly to the horizon. She glanced at the odd tree near her whose name she could never learn. Grasping the lowest branch in her hands, she pulled herself up into the tree, climbing only the sturdy lower branches so as not to cause damage to the limbs. From her new vantage point, she could see other hills like that one she sat upon, all lined by a wooden picket fence, placed there over a hundred years ago for protection in an ancient battle. In the distance, she could see surfers riding the crests of waves, a bit too near the rocks for her approval, but at the same time, she understood the lure of excitement those larger swells offered. The coast was crowded this day as the winter faded reluctantly away to spring, and the sunshine offered warmth rather than mere light as it had for the past few months.
East rested her chin in her hands. The world beyond offered so much. She saw
the promise of adventure with the chance of danger, hope with the possibility
of disappointment, peace with the certainty of disruption, laughter with the
interruption of tears, and well being with the anticipation of pain. The gentle
breeze from the water was growing cooler, and East slipped gently down from
the tree. She woke her two companions, whose tiny eyes, one set black and one
pink, slit open with a curious glare. Each ferret yawned and stretched its
tiny limbs, one sable and one creamy white. East grinned and picked them both
up, holding them lovingly in her arms. She heard sirens approaching in the
distance and watched an ambulance approach and pass, knowing somewhere that
pain had once again overcome well being, but today was not her day to fight
it. Tomorrow would come soon enough, so East tucked her companions under her
arms and made her way home where she knew her cat would greet her with a flop
for a belly rub and a contemptuous glare for the ferrets.
