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The Meaning of Dangerous
*Journal entry*
As I had previously stated, I had understood from the man of advanced years, I found living in a cave that he whole-heartedly believed that it was going to be dangerous to go alone and that I should, in fact, proceed armed both with that esoteric knowledge as well as quite a bit of razor sharp steel. The fact that I was knowingly embarking on a great adventure in which I was to seek out an imprisoned princess which would no doubt alter my coming days it seemed that was a foregone conclusion that I was readily willing to accept without even bothering to check into the legalities of length and type of sword I was allowed to carry within that province or even if I was allowed to.
The main thing, in retrospect, that I didn't think about was the true danger. The danger of staying. How long had he been in that cave alone and handing out razor sharp swords to young heroes? Why was he there? What sort of events had occurred in his life that landed him there with that vocation as his main compulsion and life?
On the other hand, did he simply realize that all of life and strife was nothing but an happenstance and chance that would eventually lead you back to your cloisteted life of hermitage in which you needed a hobby? Did every island to have this sort of antagonal antithesis of pourpose and cause in human form? Could it be that nothing under the sun was new and everything was a repeating pattern that had been before?
Of course at that stage of life I didn't bother to ask any of these questions, simply seating the sword firmly in its scabbard and finding my way through the rock monsters, short sqatty bushes I hacked to pieces and picking up shiny Stones along the way.
In my advanced years I find myself keeping every blade in my kitchen hair-splitting sharp and taking time to stoop and pick out the shiniest of stones to place around my bonsai. I haven't seen a young adventurer since I was one and no one wanders by. I have to think at handing out swords would probably be met with disdain.
Maybe that was the danger that he spoke of. Maybe the danger that none of us saw as we spent our time alone with a controller in our hand was that the adventurers of the new age would enter into a world in which no one needed rescuing because no one ever left the cave or took off their mask.
Maybe the danger was the new events that developed under the sun, at the behest of the evil overlords that wanted to possess our souls and minds... the breaking of the cycle and the circle of initiation and inclination. The breaking of the link to the past.
As I had previously stated, I had understood from the man of advanced years, I found living in a cave that he whole-heartedly believed that it was going to be dangerous to go alone and that I should, in fact, proceed armed both with that esoteric knowledge as well as quite a bit of razor sharp steel. The fact that I was knowingly embarking on a great adventure in which I was to seek out an imprisoned princess which would no doubt alter my coming days it seemed that was a foregone conclusion that I was readily willing to accept without even bothering to check into the legalities of length and type of sword I was allowed to carry within that province or even if I was allowed to.
The main thing, in retrospect, that I didn't think about was the true danger. The danger of staying. How long had he been in that cave alone and handing out razor sharp swords to young heroes? Why was he there? What sort of events had occurred in his life that landed him there with that vocation as his main compulsion and life?
On the other hand, did he simply realize that all of life and strife was nothing but an happenstance and chance that would eventually lead you back to your cloisteted life of hermitage in which you needed a hobby? Did every island to have this sort of antagonal antithesis of pourpose and cause in human form? Could it be that nothing under the sun was new and everything was a repeating pattern that had been before?
Of course at that stage of life I didn't bother to ask any of these questions, simply seating the sword firmly in its scabbard and finding my way through the rock monsters, short sqatty bushes I hacked to pieces and picking up shiny Stones along the way.
In my advanced years I find myself keeping every blade in my kitchen hair-splitting sharp and taking time to stoop and pick out the shiniest of stones to place around my bonsai. I haven't seen a young adventurer since I was one and no one wanders by. I have to think at handing out swords would probably be met with disdain.
Maybe that was the danger that he spoke of. Maybe the danger that none of us saw as we spent our time alone with a controller in our hand was that the adventurers of the new age would enter into a world in which no one needed rescuing because no one ever left the cave or took off their mask.
Maybe the danger was the new events that developed under the sun, at the behest of the evil overlords that wanted to possess our souls and minds... the breaking of the cycle and the circle of initiation and inclination. The breaking of the link to the past.
