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On Honor In Battle

21 January 2009 · set down by Je Suis Oeufs Fous

On Honor In Battle

Of battle many are considered expert.

Today I would speak of honour in battle and that which makes the warrior whole.

In the realm there are many who seek martial power through the auspices of battle and consider not what they sacrifice in return for this.

In our hearts we understand that to achieve in one area to the exclusion of all else leaves us hollow and craving for more.

Yet instead of driving us to explore the nature of ourselves we call on our expertise, war, and embrace it as a lover, ever seeking that which will fulfill us, through it.

So today I would speak of the battle for completeness. But know that what I shall share today is neither new or original. My hope is that it will awaken memory in you.

In our lives we strive to complete ourselves beyond ourselves and seem, often to come up short in our own eyes. Yet others will see and shout our glory! Why is this?

For myself I believe it is the knowledge that we are not complete in our understanding of ourselves that we fear to acknowledge this.

Battle, whether it be physical, mental or spiritual is not a matter of victory or defeat, bravery or cowardice it is the learning we take away from it.

Oft, have the warriors of old that have known me bid me learn the gentle arts. The making of clothes, the arranging of flowers, the serving of tea, the wooing of a beautiful woman.

"Be content to fail and fail often," they said. "So long as the next time you do not repeat the same mistake." So I struggled with my warlike spirit and set aside my sword and walked naked into the world.

I read and studied. One time for a year in a room filled with books and a locked door through which only one meal a day was served.

Which I shared with the mice that they might not consume my books!

When I left that room, my heart was filled with knowledge and the holder of the keys mended my body for a year afterward, whence I practiced what I read and was restored.

And still I felt hollow and he told me why. "My son," he said. "You have great skill and know that which you need, but you doubt. And doubt is the death of a thousand cuts."

With that he set me outside his house and bade me return when I knew. And so you see before you a man, bleeding from his doubt, but whole in his skills. The battle continues, but the wounds heal.

Battle for me and for others is the constant duty to prove our doubt wrong and walk stronger and taller down our path, whether it be of our own making or another's.

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