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Parable of the LanternThere were once two men seeking wisdom under the tutelage of an ancient master. He brought them into a dark room. In the center were two metal lamps, each containing a flickering flame.
"Grip your lamp by the base, endure the heat, and gaze into the flame," instructed the master. "If your faith wavers and you look away, or your strength fails and you let go, even for an instant, you will be lost. You will never be wise. But gaze at the flame and, if you prevail, you will know truth."
And the master left them.
The two men gripped their lamps, and gazed into the light. Soon the lamps grew hot from the fire within, and began to burn their hands.
One man let go and stood up. "Aha!" cried the faithful man, as he continued to grip his lantern. "You have shown yourself too weak to become wise."
"Who is wise, the one who holds fire, or the one who lets go?"
The faithless man's eyes adjusted to the dark, and he saw that
Words will never hurt me.Hating yourself is a commitment.
You aren't born with it; it's something that is learned. When it begins varies from person to person- perhaps it only starts in high school, maybe it's something that grows from when you're too young to understand what is happening. It likely starts off innocuously - "What was stopping you from getting that A?" "Why can't you be different?" "Maybe you should lose some weight." "I don't want to be friends anymore."
But, sure enough, it builds. It grows, like a weed that feeds from each negative experience thrown your way. As it grows, you lose your ability to let words bounce off you- they start to stick, digging into your skin with their sharp edges. They sink into you, growing stronger and larger with each repetition. Soon the word becomes an attachment, an extension of you. And soon it becomes the first thing you notice in the mirror, the first thing you think of when somebody asks you to describe yourself?
Irregular VerbsI am disputing
You're having a tantrum
He/she/it is a whinging nancy
I am offended
You are too sensitive
He/she/it is passive aggressive
I am hopeful
You are delusional
He/she/it is a selfish prig
I am rugged
You are ugly
He/she/it is evidence against human evolution
I am enlightened
You are snobbish
He/she/it is a cocky pig
I am needing
You are wanting
He/she/it is trying to deprive me of my rights
I am right
You are wrong
He/she/it is unable to compromise
I am capable
You are arrogant
He/she/it is a narcissistic fool
I am knowledgeable
You are misinformed
He/she/it is sane if he/she/it agrees with me
I am culturally sensitive
You are obsequious
He/she/it is a politically correct bolshie stooge
Soaked Stars [More Doomsday? Of course] The final day was partly cloudy with an 80% chance of rain.
The umbrella-clad crowd swarmed around me. People going about their melancholic lives.
I was the girl who wasn't holding anything. The girl who was out of place.
At first, I wondered- like any other person- why me? Why was I given these memories?
Somehow, I knew.
The crowd opened up their umbrellas in unison. People going about their uniform lives.
I was the girl who stood still. I was the girl who stood in the rain.
A girl who was once another in uniform. Just a black and white shape wandering the world.
Once the same- I'd lived. I'd loved.
That all changed. I was handed the truth. I died.
The crowd thinned. No one was there to watch as an eery smile spread across the girl's face.
Her hair, littered with human ideals, colored
Voyagers in the VoidI am a traveler. Just like you, except the places I go are the fictional worlds you make. I am the Partisan, without home but within hope.
You see, there are three "spheres" or "areas", of existence: there is the physical universe, from where I departed and from where so many of my fellow readers come. Then, there is the spiritual realm, home to all things mystical - from pantheons to psychic projectionists.
Finally, there is the fictional world. A multitude of fictional worlds thrown together, created from your world and which can only be visited by hearing of them and imagining them. I move between the various universes grouped together under this realm of fable and make-belief, exploring the worlds that prosper on their own and develop into something else.
I can spend centuries exploring worlds where all the author wrote was one word, but the characters change and advance into new things. They were and are created by an imagining human, a mind thinking, a heart tearing, and a soul f
Bubble BubbleAutumn, Year 754 of the New Age
Oakfern, The Warren
Falasnornia, Vawter (NPC)
“Vawter, give me those onion stalks."
As soon as the stag passed the pungent herbs her way, a sleek blade of water sliced them and they fell into the small bubbling crater in the floor. Their scent rose with the steam and Falasnornia wrinkled her nose as she turned to the patient receiving them.
Ah the joys of rut; making poultices for those insane enough to throw themselves at death's door for a doe's hind quarters. Fala suspected she would never understand a stag's mad desire for the fairer sex, though fair her gender was.
She checked the steaming concoction of melting honey and onion juices before gently lulling a glob of it toward the injured stag. His shoulder was sliced open, and although not at all deep; infection could set in quickly without a poultice and a wrapping to keep it clean. Infections sprung up from much less and in shorter time frames.
Vienna Excerpt: The First CigaretteThe First Cigarette
“There was a time when humanity consisted of a large group of over-evolved apes, wallowing in misery, tilling the rotting earth, and slaving over their fruitless bounties. We worked as slaves to fate, slaves to God, and we were never intended to stray from this. God said we weren’t ready. He destroyed us, our efforts, going as far back as the first humans who laid the bricks of the Tower of Babel, the utopia that would be the gate unto the heavens. But God said no. He manipulated us, turned us against one another. And as a result, we fell to each other. We fell to the imperfection of humankind. We fell to ignorance.”
“But it wasn’t hopeless. The ancient Greeks built devices eons ahead of what they were supposed to, the groundwork for machines that could create electricity by using water and steam, the fluid of life. So James Watt revisited this idea and said, ‘I want to create electricity!’ So he created the steam engine. Th
the mechanisms of ocean waves When I was little, I loved sea foam.
Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.
By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fragile lace like a fine seamstress, hoping to maybe sew it onto the edges of myself, make myself some semblance of Aphrodite. Yet it crumbled, leaked through my fingers, leaving only the trace of salt behind.
Eventually I gave up on the sea foam. One cannot keep chasing after things that just barely exist.
My father told me never to plunge int
AppointmentI thought I heard someone sneaking around out there.
Hello. Please, take a seat. Would you like some...no? Suit yourself then.
If you don't mind, I'm just going to switch this on. No, no, nothing special. That noise? No, it's just me. Try to block it out, it's not important.
So, you sought me out, did you? Most people do, after all. And would I be correct in thinking that...what? Oh, yes, of course, here you go...no, not a problem at all. Anyways, like I was saying, would I be correcting in assuming that you have sought me out in order to beg for more of me? Mm, I thought so. That's generally the answer I get. I know, weird, right?
Hmm? No, no, don't mind that, it's just me. Don't worry about it.
So, what has brought you to the point of begging? I...hmm? Well, that is what you're here for, right? You thought, you thought... what? The sign outside was rather clear, wasn't it? Yes, that's what it says. And it means that you only get to be here for a bit. So, let's start again, sha
thingswhen things go bad. its not fun. you feel out in the cold. like theres no-one to help you, rather like you're falling and cannot do anything, even worse, theres no-one to help you. no rope, no net to catch you. just helpless falling. its worse though, when you can see someone else falling away, away fron you, and you cannot help them. you cant put out a net. its either not possible or you just have to leave them too it. thats the worst. i hate leaving people to fall to their death. and all you can do is watch. just watch them fall, away, away.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More