Here we share the thoughts and actions by other Seekers at our fine Paladin School.
To be a hero,
This is one of the greatest callings.
To some, this may seem odd,
As if in the world of today,
A hero is out of place,
Fading out of history,
Time ravaging our call.
There are those, however,
Who know better.
Those who's hearts are pure,
Those who's souls cry for glory.
These are those of today,
Those who know a hero is needed-
Now more then ever.
A wizard, wise and mysterious,
Able to work his way out of any situation
Using the power of his mind,
The strength of his will.
A Rogue, cunning and precise.
Subterfuge, subtlety, and slight of hand.
His tools are dubious,
But his intentions pure.
A Warrior, brave and true,
Sword and shield at the ready,
Straightforward attack and defense,
Often the most useful of tactics.
And finally, A Paladin.
Noble and Pure,
Essence of Love,
A sword of Holy conviction.
These four, heros' all,
Work together in a world that suffers.
Together in our strength,
We can bring back that which was lost.
The world will once again know-
That heroes are alive and well.
And we will be here to help-
No matter what the cost.
My Soul’s reflection is scarred.
Once broken it has healed
But the breaking points are still visible
My reflection is unruly and proud
Strong and at ease with being a leader
My soul is filled with tenderness
For torment and hurt’s victims
The world gives me what I ask of it
I am filled with endless patience
And insight into natural consequences.
My reflection vibrates
With the thunder of my soul
Crying out to right the wrongs
To fix what is broken
And to speak for those who cannot.
Who will do it? The wind whispers the question
The voice fades into the distance and begins again.
Who will stand up and proudly say ‘I will’?
The reflection ripples like wind on water
And my heart glows brightly
And my soul screams out
I AM READY!
Today I was driving my truck home from taking a friend to Costco when
we saw a broken down car. About 3/4 mile down the road were two women
and a toddler walking, clearly the owners of the non-functioning car.
My truck seats five and we already had four (myself, my friend and my
two children) but I stopped anyway. My friend offered to sit in the back
with one of the women so we could fit the kiddo and mama in the cab with
the A/C. I don't know how long they had been walking out there in order
to have gotten 3/4 mile from the car, but the little boy was lethargic
and soaked in sweat. I gave him a bottle of water to drink, but he wasn't
interested- he seemed like he could barely move. I cranked up the A/C
and offered him my soda, since it was colder and he might be more inclined
to drink something sweet. He took a sip and then drank more and more
the longer he was in the truck. We took them to the nearest gas station,
and the mama called someone on my cell phone on the way. The gas station
was 5 MILES AWAY!! That kiddo would have had serious trouble if he'd
been out in the heat that long with no water or shade. My friend opened
up her grocery bags and loaded them up with apples and Gatorade when
we got to the gas station, and by the time we dropped them off, that
little boy even smiled. When I told him he could keep the drinks, he
looked like I had just given him the best Christmas ever. It warmed my
heart.
Ever since then I have been on an emotional, altruistic high. I feel
like a million bucks, and my friend does too. And even batter, when my
3 year old asked me why that kid took mommy's drink, I was able to tell
her that he was thirsty and mommy helped him. To which she replied, "Mommy,
that's so nice."
I felt like no one in my life would understand such a feeling, and I
wanted to share it with someone.
To rise to the challenge
When it looks you in the eye
To defend
When it is right
Heroes are made, not born
But there is more, so much more
It is not just accepting circumstance
That makes a hero
It is seeing the world
And finding a cause
Heroes don’t just answer the door
They watch and see the hurt
The pain and the need
And change it for the better
They seek out ways
To better the world
Heroes don’t come gilded
But instead are often unnoticed
There is a better way, a right way
Heroes hear that voice
And they respond to its call
“Stand up!”
Hero. It's a term that is tossed around a lot. We label those who achieve greatness in sports as heroes, those that save lives as heroes, and those who do the right thing in general as heroes. Supposedly, I am a Paladin; the hero's hero. That's the class of hero I am, perhaps, but I don't feel as if I have earned it yet.
I am inexperienced, young and headstrong. I don't think that I have reached the level I need to to even be called a hero, let alone a paladin. I like to consider myself a hero, but at the end of the day, when the chips are down, I just haven't earned it yet.
But I will earn it. I will train myself at all levels, having Lady Moira's guidance at nearly every step. Nothing can stop me from achieving my destiny. That is, except for my own fear of failing.
Each time I talk big like that, reality kicks me in an area that I'd prefer not to mention. If I do become the hero, the paladin, how will I know if I'm doing the right thing? What if it puts me in danger? Is it really worth it?
Then I think about the lady whose dog I saved. I then imagine saving others. Not dogs, people. I imagine pulling them out of a burning building, saving them from a mugger or something. That's when the feeling hits. It's simulated, but it still feels good. It's a feeling of fulfillment; a feeling that I am accomplishing what God or whatever higher being there is put me on this earth to do. That it is my niche.
Becoming a hero, being a hero, whatever, is my place in this life. I was sent here to serve, protect, and inspire others to do the same. That is my purpose. Come what may, I will rest easy knowing that.
Many know the stories of the heroes: Jason, and his venture to find the golden fleece; Heracles, the strongest man in the world; and Odysseus, the cunning warrior who lost his way home, are but a few of these adventurers. Later were stories of King Arthur, and his virtuous Knights of the Round Table; the stories of Robin Hood, the heroic bandit. These were men who would do anything for the sake of good.
Today we are in a land ruled by big business. The line between good and bad have been blurred to many who wish to succeed in this world. Corporations and corruption are synonyms as of now.
In this world of business and greed, of modernism and technology, the ways of old are disappearing. The stories of heroes, people who go out of their way to help others, are becoming lost; limited to stories of the police, fire department, and ambulance services (or the Modern Trinity, as I call it).
But the spirit of heroism is not dead, but buried. Finally, there is a school, a training ground of a sorts, for young men and women who wish to be heroes.
This is HowToBeAHero.com, a fledgling community with higher goals than profit. This site is a shining pinnacle that teaches heroes and heroines of all shapes and sizes.
I rode my chariot toward the battle. I knew there would be wounds and bloodshed, but I didn't care. I was doing this for the greater good. I was going to save lives.
I put the car in park, and took a deep breath before exiting the vehicle. This was it; do or die; after I got out and entered that church, it was the point of no return. I did what I had to do.
As I entered the church, signs for the American Red Cross Blood Drive greeted me. I went in to the main area, where I filled out the appropriate information. I had a huge fear of needles ever since I was a child. But I am seventeen now, I told myself. It was past time for me to grow up. Still, I was nervous.
As I waited to have my blood typed and tested, an elderly man, big as life, sat next to me. He made a joke about the line ahead, and we chuckled over it. I told him that this was my first time giving blood, and that I was a bit nervous.
"No need to worry about it," he winked, "It doesn't hurt that much. It just takes a hell of a long time."
We then began talking about stuff, and he told me he served in the military during World War II and the Korean War. This man was in his eighties, a multiple-war veteran, and still he gave blood. He'd probably do it until he died, he told me. It was the right thing to do.
After that, I didn't feel so scared. My blood came back as clean, they hooked me up, and the bag began to fill. It didn't hurt at all. It was, in fact, relaxing when compared to my over-emotional beliefs as to how it was going to be.
I sipped my apple juice. "This is the life."
After about ten minutes, or so, it was all over. I was bandaged up and told that I was free to leave whenever I felt ready. I waited for the elderly man to be through with his donation. We talked at the snack table some more, but soon I had to leave. I shaked his hand, and realized I didn't get his name.
"Buddy," he replied.
I did a wonderful thing a few weeks ago. I gave blood that would save around three lives, with the help of a man named Buddy. I would of done it anyway, but it was him who gave me the courage to look past the situation, to the greater good. Here's to you, Buddy.
Standing in the shadows, she
doesn't look like much but appearances deceive
her face is calm but if you'd see
the fire lurking that she hides
you'd see another shade, a side
that no one seems to know
Shadows fall as twilight lifts
and gives way to darkest night
there is no light but what we make
inside our hearts, inside our lives
She knows this--if you'd ask her
but no one thinks till after
no one calls for her aid
until the end is come
still she's there, as she's been
from beginning and to the end
her hands are yours, her heart
and soul, until she dies
Upon being named a Paladin and receiving my assignment to "Fix Something," an interesting series of events followed, which I believe qualify for this test of my dedication and ability. Almost immediately upon receiving the assignment, the following scenario occurred:
My dearest friend and partner, who has long suffered from a chemical imbalance in the brain resulting in fits of depression and suicidal thinking, had a panic attack. She was terrified to go to work, afraid of being shamed by her co-workers because she could not help but arrive late. Her thoughts turned dark, began to lead her down the mental paths I have seen her follow many a time. But then, as now, I went with her, trying to draw her back before the paths wound their way someplace truly dangerous.
As her panic increased, along with her tears and anger, I tried to approach the problem from a different perspective. Usually, the tactic "I love you and our friends love you and God loves you and that must mean something" is enough, but this time it didn't even permeate her unhappiness. So I tried to attack the root of that unhappiness. I rallied against all the things she was saying, "I'm bad, I'm not worth it, I hate myself, I wish I were better," etc, and for the very first time, struck upon a truly important chord. My friend is a very loving, generally gentle person who treats everyone around her with such delicacy and kindness. Forcing her attention to stay on me, and calming her as best I could, I told her possibly the most powerful thing, the strongest weapon I have ever found in dealing with her depression and low self-esteem. I told her to treat herself as she would treat me.
It shocked her for a minute, but slowly the understanding came. Every second of the depression, she was telling herself all the reasons she wasn't good enough, saying and thinking over and over again all the negative things about herself that she could think of. Beyond this, she was also driving herself to an emotional ruin, leaving herself no time, space, or desire to take care of herself, instead devoting her time and effort to meaningless pursuits. As we discussed this idea, a small smile broke over her face. Again and again I asked her what she was thinking about herself as the hours continued, and slowly the thoughts became more forgiving, more positive, more hopeful. And although it did take hours, by the end of it, she who was suicidal and near her breaking point was laughing with me at the folly of taking life and oneself so seriously.
I cannot really take credit for the experience. It was a flash of inspiration, a touch of God, perhaps, but nonetheless, it was possibly the most important thing I can think of that could need fixing. She is the most dear person in my life, but she is also someone who has struggled long with despair and depression, and with a lifetime of sorrow on her shoulders, few have been the moments when real, tangible breakthroughs have occurred But this was just such a breakthrough. And while I am not proud of it, nor do I boast of it, I believe in this experience is part of the meaning of being a paladin. We can be fierce if need be, we can fight to the death for that which we believe in, and we can use power, tactics, or skills of all kinds for our allies. But the best paladin will also be gentle, a healer by nature who is dedicated to saving people, not to glory. I believe that which defines a paladin, and distinguishes it from a warrior, is the love, compassion, and hope we carry. We may come bearing a sword, but our hearts are always full and they proceed us into any situation.
Truth.
Honor.
Sacrifice.
Learning.
Action.
Consistency.
Perseverance.
Friendship.
Loyalty.
Love.
Imperfection.
My soul and physical features are made with an extreme amount of love,
and a touch of anger.
Easily approachable by attraction yet scare of the masses with facial expressions.
A thinker. A doer. I feel uncomfortable in crowds of the unknown. The world can be a scary place. Too many people are focused on the wrong thing. I'm no one to judge or throw stones but I can choose to keep my mouth shut and my mind on what gives me peace. It takes a while for me to trust and open up to friends and romance. I guess I'm even selfish to a point when that's mentioned because I think always on what makes me content and how am I to reach the next step in my young life. I cope with this imperfection by telling myself if I can't take care of my self how am I to take care of others.., or a family even.
My being so quiet is most of the reason why I am mistaken some
of the time. Some ladies even call me stuck up. ( only cause I AM
an estrogen
magnet 
and
not lying like a dog does.)
Some even think of me as mean because of my normal facial expression. So to make a long story short their misunderstanding isn't they're own or my fault. That's just the way I am and the way things are. Until you get a chance to truly talk to someone, not just superficial conversation, you can't assume you know them or their habits.
It gives me great pleasure to assist others' needs and wants.
Giving a piece of what I have to share with friends is just
short of heaven.
And just like anything
else there is a dark side I am by no means an angel. It takes a long
time to hit the boiling point, when it does peak I wouldn't
want to
get in my own way.
An act of simple kindness...
The words to soothe the soul
Or the actions that save the world.
Fact or fiction, matter of fact love missions.
Its walking a thin red line unconscious and blind
Dutiful acts that track what's left behind.
No matter the time, price or deadline
The cheerful-giver of peace of mind
Relax recline sit back rewind
Somebody's on your side and I don't mind dying.
Heroic souls not deeds
Even trees can help me breathe
I don't need trees I NEED THESE!
The wise words of kings helping me see things.
The soft words of women in fine linen
A positive outcome in drastic situations due to the intervention of a kind soul
is heroism
The simple everyday tactics of men and women living righteous is the soul of
heroism.
Unfortunately I never had a younger brother to help, droves of cousins,
but none of the younger ones needed any help...perhaps we were all too
precocious for our times. But I do have quite a few grand-children whom
I do help though not really fixing their bicycle chains...these new bicycles
are in any case are too complicated for my limited mechanical know-how.
But I do whatever I can in other fields where they need help.
However something else did occur recently which may earn me some points!
Though, as I may have said before, I do not like to, or hesitate or am
too shy to talk about any good deed or any action that a decent human
being does or ought to do.
Sometime ago the Oil Refinery people had dug a ten foot deep trench to
put in a new pipeline in front of our front lawns. The slight delay was
caused due to the cold and rainy weather.
One day as evening was approaching I heard a the plaintive yapping of
a small pup. I know that our immediate neighbours do not have a dog,
although cats abound, I was intrigued and went out to see what the commotion
was about. And I was surprised to see a very small puppy which had fallen
in and couldn't get out...in fact the poor thing didn't know what to
do.
I must clarify here that I have a natural aversion for cats and dogs...well
maybe aversion is a strong word, I certainly do not have any fondness
for them and avoid touching them. BUT then I couldn't very well leave
the poor thing in there, especially as a rainstorm was imminent. Then
too was the factor of the ten foot deep trench...I am just 5'5'' <wry
grin>...with about a foot of accumulated rain water.
Fortunately my eight year old grand-daughter, who lives close-by rode
up on her bicycle. Seeing my predicament she offered to help. But then
there was a new dilemma! What to do with the puppy even if I did succeed
in retrieving it? The young usually have an answer where we fail. Without
a word she quickly rode away and soon returned with her cousins who wanted
it as a pet. That relieved me from the worry of the little one's future
at least. The actual task of retrieving it was now the real problem...but
then the 'usual false' pride of manhood came to the fore and I climbed
down into the dirty knee-deep water and handed over the animal (strange
that it quieted down on seeing me, perhaps instinct had told it that
help was at hand?). Satisfied that the animal was now safe, and with
a strange spiritual satisfaction which I cannot define, I was now presented
with another and greater problem...how to get out myself? Since that
was not a part of my achievement I'll best leave it unsaid!
My assignment was to Fix Something. When I was told such, I realized
that I'm already working on that and that I should let you know.
I was diagnosed with severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Bipolar
Disorder over a year ago. When I was first diagnosed, I recieved a great
deal of persecution from the friendly folks at my Christian school (nothing
against Christians, mind you, since I'm one myself), and was eventually
expelled for being a 'disturbing influence.' Ever since then I have devoted
myself to eradicating the stigma and ignorance surrounding mental illness.
I spoke to my church on the subject, am scheduled to speak to my psychology
class and then possibly to my youth group.
I am fixing stigma. People fear only what they don't understand; if I
can help deconstruct their ignorance, then their fear will fade and people
like me will be accepted into society.
Here are some pictures I snapped of a snow sculpture I made for The Soul of Heroism. I was trying to capture the joy and heart of a hero in it...
For my first assignment I was supposed to fix something. I have fixed
something since i joined and now, but I'm not sure if I ought to count
it. You see it is something I had intended to fix for a long time and
been procrastinating. So you see it is not a new project and I don't
even think joining this site even prompted me to do it because I had
gathered most of the things i needed to fix this thing before i even
got the assignment,
so counting it AS my assignment would be... questionable. It was something
small anyway,
There is something much bigger I want to fix . I think that would be
a better end to my assignment, but I'm a little daunted by it... part
of
my reason for hesitation is that I'm not sure anything is really broken...
It's a relationship.
um.. I guess the purpose of this email is for encouragement, which I
suppose is a valid purpose so I'll continue:
Umm ok so I am a leader in a make believe knightly order, that exists
in a lager group that does live roleplaying and mock sword fighting.
However our order goes a little deeper than just make believe. I and
my partner teach our young proteges about the ideals of the chivalric
ways, in terms of the fantasy world we play in, in historical terms,
and in terms of applications to mundane life... along with how to fight
how to fight as a team etc... and we practice it together... anyway...
We have a large number of students, we call them men(/women)-at-arms
when they are first inducted (then squires, then knights though we have
as yet to knight anyone)... in reality half are no more than boys and
girls (teenagers). All this started this last summer.
And I slowly make my way closer to the issue. One of our first men-at-arms
who will be made my squire if all goes well next spring, has a younger
brother who joined shortly after he did. I think this brother never would
have joined if he didn't encourage him and I was under the distinct impression
that this younger brother was a reluctant at best student of the chivalric
ways. He seemed more interested in gathering personal glory. He didn't
really seem to participate in our group activities and was mostly a member
in lip service preferring to go off and do his own thing. Honestly I
think it had more to do with not wanting to follow us, the leaders, that
made
him disinterested. In time his performance improved in our eyes though
very slowly and it seemed that he had a long road before him before
he would be ready to be a squire. In any case when he left for a few
months he returned his black cord resigning his status as a man-at-arms.
Eventually he came back, and when he did it was a little like starting
at the begriming in only one way different, he wasn't officially part
of our group anymore. He still hung around with us a little because his
brother was with us, he also often borrowed our equipment and stuff.
He made some noises about joining again but was not terribly loud or
direct about it and neither me nor my co-founder was terribly keen on
taking him back. We didn't reject him, in fact, we invited him to fight
at our side and participate in group activities, but he didn't jump at
the opportunity and he slowly began to fade back into the woodwork only
popping in to borrow our group equipment (without asking most of the
time). At several points I confronted him about borrowing people's gear
without asking them at first politely but later I was more stern. I'm
not sure but I think I might have pushed him away from us. That's what
I think might be broken.
I think that when he returned he was hoping we'd ask him very nicely
if he could rejoin us now that he was back, and when we hesitated a little
he turned his back on us. I think that as it became more clear that he
was turning his back on us I unwittingly sent a message that he wasn't
really one of us anymore and he was welcome to the privileges we had
granted him before. Within the order the norm was that if you're not
using your gear you'll let anyone in the group borrow your gear if they
ask you and don't expect to be using it within a few minutes. I think
when I spoke tersely with him he interpreted it as a message that I didn't
want him around. The truth is that he's the younger brother of one who
would be my squire and the friend of one of our other men-at-arms and
as long as they are both part of our group and he keeps coming out to
the larger group's activities he'll always be around us. I'd actually
like to take him on as a men-at-arms again... but only if that's what
he really wants, and only if he's now willing to follow and show some
level of reciprocity etc... I don't want him to join us and feel like
he needs to follow our lead if he doesn't want to be led.... anyway I
think it's he that I need to talk to about these things but the think
is I'll only see him in the spring.
It my relationship with him that I'd like to fix, I want him to know
that I respect him for what he's worth and that he'd be welcome at our
side if he's ready to take all that comes with it... but it's not something
I can do now... and I would like other assignments...
As you have maybe noticed, I am sometimes cross and I am reluctant to do what others do. I am some kind of a Maverick who seeks to elude the chains others could tie me with since the one I tied around myself are heavy enough. As a Maverick, I don’t even follow the natural path for this assignment : I didn’t provide our beloved Instructor with a list of three Charities to choose from… I bluntly write about a Charity that isn’t really a Charity.
I, who don’t earn much and have no determined or regular schedule, have no money or time to offer a Charity on a regular basis.
I looked and looked for a Charity I could join, that did not required my time or money on strict schedule, that would be something different, something that would have a meaning to me, something I know how difficult it is to do without. I eat well, I have a shelter and I am grateful for all this. I don’t know what it would be not to have them. What I know is how it is like to not be able to access Culture which is so very important to me. Small means that allow one to eat and rest may not allow one to buy books that are so good companions. They allow readers to travel, learn, dream. They don’t make you satiated nor warm but they make you free. Above all, I am sure that reading and learning from books make people better.
That is why, in Soul of Charity, I wish to write about BookCrossing.
BookCrossing is a trend, a philosophy and a community that tries to make the world a free library. The main aspect of it is simply sharing books. BookCrossers leave their books “in the wild” for anyone to find and read, whoever or whatever the finder is. People who had the book in their possession at some point can follow the path of the book if the finders write “Journal Entries” on the BookCrossing website. Books are registered and given a BookCrossing IDentification number that is unique for each copy. The principle may seem to imply high means (access to the Internet) but it would be a mistake to think so. Basically, there is no real need to write the Journal Entry, the only obligation is to release the book once read for someone else to find. Of course, it is exciting to read the comments finders leave but it is part of the game that a book may disappear for months or years before someone writes an entry. In the meantime, the book travelled and met many people.
The action of releasing is absolutely uninterested for you can never know what will happen. The book may be found by someone who needed such a reading or by someone who would sell the book in a second hand bookstore (it happened). Mostly, the finder is another BookCrosser but the book is always released again and again and makes its journey through the world.
One of my first bookCrossing experiences was a special occasion in BookCrossing, a “Happening” somehow. BookCrossers for my city came with dozens of books by a sunny Saturday morning and hung them to a carefully chosen tree. We were sharing good times together when homeless people came to us to talk and take books, other people came too and all were chatting freely. For that lapse of time, we were all equal and it is important for whoever feels an outcast to have the feeling of belonging again. Just ask them.
Another special operation of BookCrossing was the promotion of a book about “Rankism”. Rankism is a social phenomenon that imbues every cultures and societies. Under rankism you can pile homophobia, xenophobia, racism, sexism… All disrespects from one group towards another it thinks lower. It also points out how unconsciously when victim of the system we repeat it on others. “Somebodies and Nobodies” seemed an end of study essay like thousands of others written every year, doomed to stay on the shelves of the university where it was written but copies where offered to any BookCrosser who would ask for one. Then, through BookCrossing, they would be released and be read by people who would have never bough them.
What I enjoy in BookCrossing and its community is the sharing, among us and with other unknown people. It’s completely free in so many senses. It is when, where and how you want, as often as you want or can. You don’t even have to join to participate. BookCrossers from my city have become my friends and we meet very often. Regardless of our age, group, religion or social background, we know we are also there to help each other. All BookCrossers form a great world wild web of friendship.
It’s not much : it’s - only ? all? - about sharing.
It may not mean a lot to who gives money or time to help cure diseases or to feed people in need. But think about it : would you part from your books? Books are close to our heart, offering a book is offering our deep thoughts, our dreams, a part of what makes us who we are.
www.bookcrossing.com