Update

You may have noticed my lack of writing here as of late... Perhaps the main reason for that, my dear, vociferous readers, is my decision to move Veritas Day to a new home.

As of this moment, glipho will be the new space for all of my writings - whether or not they are blog posts.

I will see you all there!

Home

Oceanfront Home by ArmchairBuilder.com

‘Welcome home, John.’ – Cortana (Halo 4)

There are places in this world that we cherish. And people who make those places a part of who we are. These two always go together, do they not?

Whether we admit it or not, a home is more than we realise. It’s greater than a place, more intricate than our memories allow us to know. Far too often, when we are content and surrounded by goodwill, we underestimate the complexity of feeling that shapes our understanding of this concept.

Home. There is more to this word, I think, than first meets the eye. There are depths of feeling we unconsciously associate with home – it’s a feeling as much as a concretely defined physical space. It extends beyond walls and doors, and beds, and tables.

It’s about what you carry with you, wherever you are. It’s about the people you never leave behind, no matter how far you wander. 

With Quiet Dignity

'Strange how there's always a little more innocence left to lose.' - The Outsider (Dishonored)

Love, Dignity, Justice
by ANDR3W A

From the title and quotation chosen for this particular stream of consciousness, you might hazard the guess that something has been troubling me lately. And rightly so, my dear, vociferous readers.

I may have stated this too many times already, but I feel that our species is quite fallible. We are all inclined towards chaos – to some extent at least. The irony being, of course, that we so strongly crave to order the world around us and shape it to our needs, desires, preferences…

None of us are perfect, which is both logical and unsurprising – if it were otherwise, I for one would be rather shocked that we had discovered true Artificial Intelligence without anyone noticing. The point I would make here is that none of us are exempt from failure in any way. None of us are true beacons of virtue and morality – paragons unblemished by a cruel world. However appealing the notion of such people may be, I would argue that they do not exist.

Perhaps I am awfully pessimistic and time will prove me wrong. I would be very glad, if that happened one day. Truly, I would like to believe that we are all capable of being much more than we are – you may have noticed how often I express this particular idealistic notion of mine. As is often the case, however, reality would beg to differ. The world touches us all eventually – no one remains innocent for long. And the farther we go from our most cherished dreams and ideals, the more we realise how deep this loss of innocence may become.

Yet, you will not hear me say, my dear, vociferous readers, that there is no hope – that there is no way to retain some part of your true self, to build it, to make it stronger. Fighting for that is both the means and the end, I think, and the calls to arms are too numerous to ignore.

Someone said to me once, ‘What is true is never loud.’ So let us fight on, quietly – for innocence lost. Let us overcome and rise above all of it.

And let us live on with quiet dignity.

Unheeded

'From something delicate to something brutal, a pattern repeated through all of history.' – Steven Erikson

Broken Flowers by h.koppdelaney.

Our history is one of mistakes repeated...

We walk within memories of warmth and ice, light and darkness, joy and despair – our triumphs are ever brief and followed by the inevitable fall. And we continue to move in circles, ever confused in a relentless pursuit of something greater than the cold, uncompromising reality we are faced with each and every day.

We are chasing after ideas and ideals, our seeking and craving fuelled by empty dreams. Dreams that have become devoid of substance by our own lack of understanding – while we chase after greater comprehension... Such irony.

Where will this endless cycle lead us? Will we even glimpse a final, ultimate goal? Circle after circle after circle...closed. Will we ever learn, I wonder – or are we doomed to repeat our mistakes, destroy what we create and forgo our noblest cravings?

Will we ever not end up right where we began? We seem to have the amazing ability to never heed the lessons of history.

All of this I say, my dear, vociferous readers, for a reason both simple and ridiculously convoluted: we all know, on some level, that there is still... something in our world that is untainted and incorruptible. After all, we have all felt the first touch of love, or the breath of unexpected hope – or even something as simple as a surge of sympathy for a fellow human being. And we have all, I have no doubt, at the very least glimpsed the Beauty that has become so very elusive of late. For the circles are ever closing...

And Beauty is ever in peril, my friends. Whenever it would try to rise above the shackles of this base realm of ours, chaos and destruction would rear their ugly heads and trample its frail endeavour. Again and again we have seen this – the rise and fall of something precious, splendid, magnificent.

Beauty is ever in peril. And it needs Guardians.  

One Year Later...

'We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still.' - Dr Carl Sagan 

It has been quite the journey, my dear, vociferous readers.

Some of you will know that, of course. Some of you will have noticed my winding path to a place I am yet to see with any clarity. Some of you are yet to share in my vision – if at all.

For those of you who have been with me all along... beyond the confines of this rather limiting form of expression. You know me far better than most. And far too well for simple words. But bear with me.

I have learned a lot, my friends. This blog began as a training regimen for my then dormant writing skills. And then it became something far greater – a challenge, a road less travelled, a way of knowing this crazy little world. It became a search for something more, a quest for dreams I can never know.

I have learned so much along the way. Too much to share through means as crude as words. But I know that I know far, far too little...

Nevertheless, I did discover certain bits and pieces of a larger truth I can call my own. And I got to know uncertainty in an entirely new fashion. I am now utterly convinced that to have blind faith in something is deeply wrong – to never change assumptions, beliefs, ideas, perceptions is nothing but a hindrance to becoming a greater human being. There are no final conclusions, I have come to think.

I know how deep bonds are forged. I know how much a true friend is worth. I know love is not the only answer, but it's a bloody good one. I know the people you care for are the ultimate frontier, the final scale of justice, balance and morality.

And I know far too much to say I know enough. But I know that there are lessons for all of us each and every day...

What did I learn recently, one might ask? Exempli gratia, I embraced whole-heartedly a principle I seemed to have forgotten: to judge another is a choice, not a necessity. Judge at your own peril...

Perhaps more importantly, I finally understood something I have always been reluctant to admit – that there is no tragedy to the deep turnings of this world. The strength to find meaning resides within us: we can make the choice. We are the ones who define and shape our own existence. There is no intrinsic tragedy – even if at times the Universe seems to be truly unforgiving.

Of course, this entire endeavour has amounted to a rather odd collection of random thoughts, musings and opinions. And it was inevitable that I would learn to trust my own judgement, wherever it may take me at times. Thus, I know something now that I failed to see a year ago... Even if the entire world would beg to differ, that does not mean you are the one who's wrong.

I will continue to try to see what lies beyond the immediately visible. There are far greater things that we may know that are dreamt of in our petty philosophy. We are capable of so much more...

But the choices we make are the dreams we can know. The choices not made are the stories untold. And the stories we make are the truths we have known.

Is the circle now complete, my dear, vociferous readers?