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Heavenly Kingdoms - Chapter 1
Letter 1 – From Richard Charlston to Anne Charlston, 2nd of May, 1856.
Dear Anne,
I apologise for the delay in writing this letter, given you wrote some three weeks past inquiring into my wellbeing, no doubt spurred by my coming departure; regardless, dear sister, do not think I am not touched with you reaching out to me given my self-imposed distance from our family affairs. I have been much occupied in the garrison as you know, but such are the excuses of all wayward brothers (and prodigal sons). But as for my condition: our spirits are maintained at present as we hope yours are too, if not improved. These times have not been easy for any of us but discipline and a level head maintains the civilised way of our people; fortitude built through duty and all that nonsense. Something must keep us occupied to stop the wandering mind from conjuring demons to debase its own establishment; though its best never to trade blows with the infernal when such beasties can be avoided. It’s conservation of stamina you see; easier to run than stay and fight – Or better yet: stay still and not fright; a demon is ethereal after all. But so it goes; our mind can make corporeal what should otherwise be of air.
But of duty. There are other kinds besides that of Queen and Country. Duty to ourselves for instance; selfish though it seems, but worth a moment’s notice. It can be hard to grasp the enormity of our struggle as we know we do not only live for ourselves now but also those iterations of ourselves still to come who may look blackly upon the decisions we made at any given epoch, but know this: our future selves have no right to claim dominion upon that territory our past selves inhabit for they are not there, living through its trials - its pains - so they can bluster all they want of past mistakes and “wasted” time that was not centred around what presently absorbs their interest. They, to whom all fun and frivolity are careless wastes, yet to youth are the very blood of life – how can the wizened self speak of past mistakes without awareness of the malleability of their own soul? Thus I say dearest Anne, do not look to the past to lay your blame – you are not who you once were, you could not know you had made such mistakes if they had...
Dear Anne,
I apologise for the delay in writing this letter, given you wrote some three weeks past inquiring into my wellbeing, no doubt spurred by my coming departure; regardless, dear sister, do not think I am not touched with you reaching out to me given my self-imposed distance from our family affairs. I have been much occupied in the garrison as you know, but such are the excuses of all wayward brothers (and prodigal sons). But as for my condition: our spirits are maintained at present as we hope yours are too, if not improved. These times have not been easy for any of us but discipline and a level head maintains the civilised way of our people; fortitude built through duty and all that nonsense. Something must keep us occupied to stop the wandering mind from conjuring demons to debase its own establishment; though its best never to trade blows with the infernal when such beasties can be avoided. It’s conservation of stamina you see; easier to run than stay and fight – Or better yet: stay still and not fright; a demon is ethereal after all. But so it goes; our mind can make corporeal what should otherwise be of air.
But of duty. There are other kinds besides that of Queen and Country. Duty to ourselves for instance; selfish though it seems, but worth a moment’s notice. It can be hard to grasp the enormity of our struggle as we know we do not only live for ourselves now but also those iterations of ourselves still to come who may look blackly upon the decisions we made at any given epoch, but know this: our future selves have no right to claim dominion upon that territory our past selves inhabit for they are not there, living through its trials - its pains - so they can bluster all they want of past mistakes and “wasted” time that was not centred around what presently absorbs their interest. They, to whom all fun and frivolity are careless wastes, yet to youth are the very blood of life – how can the wizened self speak of past mistakes without awareness of the malleability of their own soul? Thus I say dearest Anne, do not look to the past to lay your blame – you are not who you once were, you could not know you had made such mistakes if they had...
