Arthurian Snippet

As Anselm had guessed, the courtyard was empty. What he had not anticipated was the cutting target set up in the center of the yard. Close by was a table with a variety of blades upon it, and unbelievably, Anselm recognized one of them. This was the sword of Sir Gawain, King Arthur’s champion. Wondering, wide-eyed, Anselm edged closer. Slowly, his hand stretched out, and he lightly touched his fingertips to the cold steel of the pommel. Anselm thrilled, his heart hammering in his chest. How many other people in the world could claim to have touched the steel of a knight of the Round Table and lived? So excited was he that Anselm did not hear the crunch of boots on gravel, and then a grip of iron clamped down on his wrist. Caught fast, Anselm whipped his head around and up, his heart leaping up into his throat. The face that looked down at him was as cold and hard as the steel of the sword he had touched. Piercing green eyes bored down into his in an angry frown. The man’s long blond hair was pulled back in a tail, away from his face, giving Anselm a good look at him, and he froze, forgetting to struggle before he had even started to try. Sir Gawain had caught him. “What are you doing,” the champion asked, his tone somehow stern and sharp without being loud. Whimpering, Anselm was about to burst into tears when another voice from behind him called out. “Relax, Gawain. We were watching him.” Gawain and Anselm both looked across the courtyard to see two more men walking forward, away from the shadows of the buildings surrounding them. With a trickle of nervous fear, Anselm recognized both of them as well. On the left, wearing a tunic of bright sky blue, was the youngest member of the Round Table, Sir Tristan, called the Knight of Flowers. On the right, wearing green, was Sir Perceval, the Forest Knight. Both of them wore swords, but while Sir Perceval also wore a small belt knife, a quiver on his back, and carried a longbow, Sir Tristan wore a cloak and carried what looked to be a picnic basket. “If you were watching him,” Gawain asked them, “why didn’t you try to stop him?” The two men came close enough to talk casually, Perceval holding his belt with one hand while the other hand held the bow up over his shoulder. “Curiosity! We wanted to see what he was going to do!” “Funny,” Gawain growled, “I was just asking him the same thing.” Anselm gulped as the older man looked back down at him. Mustering the small amount of courage he had left, Anselm finally managed to speak. “Your pardon, sir; I was just wondering how heavy it was.” “Hmph,” Gawain grunted, finally releasing Anselm’s wrist. “And I suppose my cutting target was no temptation for you at all.” He picked up his sword and sheathed it. Blushing, Anselm dropped his eyes, still shaking his hand to get the blood to flow back into his fingers. “Oh, come now, Gawain,” Tristan said. “Don’t be a mean old man. You can’t be so old that you don’t remember being a brave young lad!” Unexpectedly, Tristan set down the basket, kneeling so that he could look Anselm in the eye. “What’s your name, boy?” The question was asked gently, and it helped Anselm regain a measure of composure before he answered. “Anselm, sir.” That drew Perceval’s attention. “Oh, you’re Aidan and Kiera’s boy!” Anselm nodded, and the other two knights looked for an explanation. “His parents have a farm on the other side of town.” “Well, Anselm,” Tristan replied, turning back to the boy. “I see the look of an adventurer in your eye. Do you want to be a knight?” “Oh yes, sir!” Anselm exclaimed. “More than anything!” “And why is that? Is there a lady whose heart you would claim? Or a treasure you’ve heard about?” Anselm’s smile brightened. “I want to slay dragons!” Tristan and Perceval looked at each other in pleasant surprise. “A dragon slayer!” Tristan exclaimed. “Well then! He who slays dragons has to be very good with a sword. Have you had your lessons yet, Anselm?” Anselm’s smile faded. “No, sir; I’ve only tried to practice what I can watch on my own.” His eyes flicked over to Perceval. “I’m better with a bow.” Perceval raised an eyebrow. “Are you, now? Well, I imagine my bow is a little strong for you to prove your claim.” Tristan straightened, putting his hands on his hips as he grinned down at Anselm. “Is your hand all right?” Anselm worked his fingers, feeling not the slightest twinge of pain. He was just thrilled to actually be inside Camelot, having a conversation with two of the Round Table, King Arthur’s closest friends. “All right, sir. Not a tweak.” “Good!” Sir Tristan used his left hand to draw his sword, offering the hilt to Anselm. “Let’s see what you’ve got, eh?” Anselm’s eyes bugged as Gawain scowled. “Oy, I didn’t say he could have my target.” Ever the diplomat, Tristan looked at him and said “Gawain, in a kingdom where every resident is encouraged to learn how to fight, the guards are trained to fight, the soldiers are second to none, the knights are the stuff of legend, and the Round Table is ranked above all of these, you stand out as the best, head and shoulders beyond the rest of us. I am entirely certain that no matter what magnificent cut this young lad here can make, it will not be enough to completely confound Arthur’s champion.” Subdued, Gawain scowled again. “Go on with you, then.” Hesitantly, Anselm reached for the grip of Tristan’s sword. When Tristan took his hands away and let the weight settle into his own hands, Anselm trembled, and thought he was going to faint. The sword was made for a single hand, but Anselm’s were small enough that he could fit both on the handle. Slowly, he turned to the cutting target, waiting stoically on its stand. Suddenly, Anselm was unsure what to do; a cross cut? Which way? Maybe an upwards diagonal? Those were some of the hardest to make, but he’d been practicing them the most, recently. Tristan bent low, putting his mouth close to Anselm’s ear. “Why not stick with something simple this first time, eh? Downwards, right to left?” Relieved, Anselm closed his eyes, let out a breath he did not know he’d been holding, and gave a small nod. Of course. When he opened his eyes, he squared his shoulders and tightened his hands on the sword. He walked a little closer, just out of cutting range, his left foot forward. Tristan took a breath to say something, but Perceval’s hand on his wrist stopped him. In one smooth, fluid motion, Anselm raised the sword, stepped forward, and made the best cut he’d ever made in his life, the blade passing through the target as if it wasn’t even there the exact moment his foot hit the ground. “Ha!” Tristan clapped as Anselm followed through the cut, using his momentum to circle the sword so that he ended in a guard position, ready to defend himself. “Perfection!” Even Gawain’s lips twitched, suggesting a small smile. “Not half bad.” Anselm’s knees wobbled, and he quickly handed the sword back to Tristan before he dropped it. As Tristan sheathed it, Perceval walked up and laid a hand on Anselm’s shoulder. “Now then. You run home, and do these for me. First, no more sneaking about.” Perceval used his chin and head to indicate the buildings around them. “Camelot is usually open to people who ask. Second, don’t go bragging on yourself to everyone.” Perceval leaned in close, lowering his voice a bit. “The mark of a true hero is humility.” He winked, and Anselm grinned before Perceval finished. “Last thing; whenever you have a bad day, or feel down on yourself, you remember this day, when three knights of the Round Table, and one of them Arthur’s Champion, agreed that you made a fine cut.” “Four,” thought Mordred as he casually leaned against the wall, hidden by the shadows that surrounded the courtyard. “He did well.” Anselm’s chest swelled and Perceval ruffled his hair before sending him on his way. Tristan stood next to Perceval and watched the boy leave. “There goes the next Galahad.” “Sure hope so,” Perceval replied, turning back to the cutting stand. Gawain was just bending down to pick up the cutting target that had fallen with Anselm’s cut. “It really was very good,” Tristan said. “You’ve got to admit that.” “It was,” Gawain replied, looking at the straight line the cut had made. “Will you still be able to practice?” Perceval asked. Gawain said nothing, but removed the part of the cutting target that remained on the stand, then replaced it with the piece that had fallen, now upside down. He shrugged. “The boy was short, so the cut was low. This will work.” “We’ll leave you to it, then,” Tristan said, retrieving his picnic basket. He and Perceval turned to leave as Gawain drew his sword and addressed the target.

The Power of Legend

I am 27 years old.

I am a college graduate.

I still sit by campfires on starry nights with a sword in my hands, staring into the flames and thinking about the past.

I remember the stories I was told as a child, and I choose to believe in them. Many of these stories may have been based on real historical figures anyway, so there is no delusion involved. As for the others, I ask the flames "so what if they weren't real?"

George

Arthur Pendragon

Robin Hood

Beowulf

Roland

Whether real or not, these men have been revered as heroes for centuries. Some have been spoken of for over A Thousand Years. Why? What do they matter? Who were they? What did they do that was so important, or so noteworthy, that even now, at this very moment, somewhere there is a father telling his son these stories? His father told him these tales, and his father before him, all the way back to the time of his most ancient ancestors.

G.K. Chesterton said "Fairy tales don't tell children there are monsters; They know that already. Fairy tales tell children that monsters can be defeated." THAT is what these men were, or at least, that is what their stories say they were, whether their monster was a dragon, a fell beast, a tyrannous king, a territorial enemy, or a magical sorceror. These warriors stood up to a challenge and either defeated it for the good of others, or died trying, believing that what they were fighting for was worth dying for. In this way, they became HEROES, and passed into legend, attaining that which all heroes are granted:

True Immortality.

I sit by the campfire at night, gripping the hilt of my sword, paying silent homage to warriors of hundreds of generations past, wishing I could have known them, trained under them, or at least met them.

I also think of the modern heroes: men I look up to as some of the finest warriors on Earth. Perhaps it's simple patriotism, or perhaps it's elitist nationalism, but I don't care. Either way, I believe America is the single greatest country in the history of Earth. I believe America is Stronger, Freer and BETTER than any nation this world has ever seen, and it is for these reasons (among others) that I believe we produce the greatest warriors of our time:

Army Rangers

Force-Recon Marines

Navy SEALS

In the nations of our enemies, people whisper about these people as boogeymen to scare their children. Marines are called Devil Dogs, but they wear the title proudly. Eleanor Roosevelt said "The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale and lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!"

But to return closer to the point, Winston Churchill said "We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm." I think of those rough men, and the hundreds of thousands of warriors like them that have come before them, and I tighten the grip on my sword. It is in me too, the lust to fight. To feel blood and adrenalin screaming through my body like an electric current, and feel the razor-sharp edge of my blade bite deep, shearing through the flesh and bone of my enemy in a righteous cause. I want to protect those whom I love, or at the very least, someone who cannot protect themselves, and find themselves an unjust victim of a senseless wrong. Chesterton also said "A warrior fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him." This is why I train. This is why I am always armed. "I will not let you steal my life or that of another without a fight, and if you try, I will kill you or die trying."

I feel I am underestimated. This is understandable. I am small, and my attitude lends itself more to smiles than to growls, more to dancing than to fighting. Most of the time, I don't mind. The desire to make people happy and laugh is strong in me, too. I enjoy the thought of being someone's best friend, worthy of their trust and companionship. When I am asked for advice or my opinion I do my best to guide those who trust me enough to ask, and I am honored to be so trusted. A less significant side effect of being underestimated is a tactical advantage. I relish the thought of shocking my enemy as my skill surprises him, and I overcome him because I outsmarted him.

But sometimes...

It really, REALLY gets under my skin when people think I am not capable of doing certain things, or that they are superior to me when they know nothing about my past or training. It's even worse when people think these things even when they DO know. Those are the times I feel I am closest to lashing out in anger, or challenging them to prove their boasts. "I am capable of MUCH more than you think, and I can prove it!" In 2000, I was a National Champion. Since then, I have only expanded my knowledge of martial arts, and I feel I am the better prepared for it.

I have not trained in combat with the sword, but these days, the pistol IS the modern sword. In the Middle Ages, those that could carry a sword DID carry a sword whenever and wherever possible. They practiced with it and kept it sharp and clean, ready for battle at any moment, because they knew that their world was a dangerous one. Our world today is no less violent. Brigands and thieves still lurk in dark shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting, if they draw too close. Murderers and rapists hunt the night with malice in their hearts and weapons in their hands. When my turn comes, I want to be able to say that I surprised them, outsmarted them and overcame them. If killing is necessary, so be it.

My hand tightens on the grip of my sword because I too, want to be a legend. Perhaps, one day A Thousand Years from now, fathers will tell their sons my story.

"Word fame is the coinage we trade, and it's up to you to fill your pocket." -Sir James the Holy.

Some Showers Take Longer Than Others

You know those weekends that just make you love life? Yeah. Those are great, ain't they?

You know those Mondays after the weekends that you love so much? Yeah... I hate those...

I am not, nor have I ever been, by any stretch of the imagination, a morning person. So you can imagine how hard MONDAY mornings hit me. Admittedly, it could be a lot worse. I mean, relatively speaking, my life has been well-nigh idyllic. My family loves me dearly, I have an AMAZING girlfriend, my friends rock the world, I have a great home, and I have an incredible imagination which has fueled most of the passions, skills and talents in my life.

One of the things I love most about my house is the shower. I know, kinda mundane, most homes have them, so what? I don't care that the majority of the world, much less America, has also experienced the glorious-ness that is my morning ritual, without which I can barely function. It's a lovely way to wake up when the day is cold and the bed is warm, providing enough movement to get the body awake without administering a system-wide SHOCK.

My morning shower is often a time for my own quiet reflection. I think about lots of things. God, life, love, music, friends and school top the list. Many times, since I am not a morning person, I am depressed. The shower provides a lovely little escape pod that I can enjoy while I muster up whatever courage and fortitude it will take to face the day. Sometimes it involves taking whatever worries I've held onto from yesterday and letting them wash away in blissful liquid warmth. Other times, my shower becomes a place of repentance, thinking about things I should not have done or thought, and how to go about making up for whatever ground I may have lost in my own conscience, and how to avoid making the same mistakes over again. Occasionally, the shower is a source of enormous vitality, springing me to life with the first touch of water. These are regrettably the rarest types of showers, but I suppose that makes them all the more valuable.

Depending on what kind of day I had previously, or whatever craziness happens to be running through my mind, it may take a longer time for me to get up the motivation to shut off the faucet and step out into the world. This morning's shower took a long time. Mondays are always the worst. "Weekend's over, school today. Oh yeah, remember that book review due on Friday you haven't started yet? Yeah, might wanna get on that. Laundry might be a good idea, too. You don't want to run out of underwear again. Oh, and DON'T put off cleaning your room. That's gonna take a century to get through without all the other stuff you'll have to juggle. But she's worth it, ain't she? Yeah, of course she is, that and a heck of a lot more. How much more? Worth- WHOA now, don't go there yet. Preparation, man, preparation! And besides, there's still a lot of things to iron out between you. You know, those annoying little differences that aren't really important, but they keep needling at you and won't go away...

"You're gonna be late for class..."

Sigh................

My Night With God!

Last Sunday night, I was down in the dumps, and was talking to a friend of mine. Mostly about relationships and my lack of one, and how I longed for one, and my friend kept going on about me trusting God, and feeling secure in Him... because I don't. There was a lot more said, and most of it was very convicting. Towards the end of it, I simply felt like crying... but that was a good thing. So I told my friend I wanted to cry about this, and they said alright, but they prayed for me first.

At first, all I did was cry... I'm not entirely sure why. I think I just wanted to feel loved, so I begged for it. I just sobbed my heart out like I rarely have before, and let the tears flow.

BUT I WAS ANSWERED! I have NEVER felt such a feeling before! I have been a Christian most of my life, but I have rarely, if ever, felt such a presence! I was held, and I was comforted by what I felt was nothing less than the Creator! I'm also fairly certain there was at least one angel there, but I was in a state of shocked awe at the time, so I can barely account for any of my feelings or thought processes going on. I simply cried and cried and kept on crying, sitting on the floor, curled up into a ball, incoherently talking to God. Mostly, I was simply thanking Him for what I was experiencing, and didn't want to stop. Eventually, though, things got messy, so I stood to go to the bathroom, but it was dark, and I got scared. So I told God my fear as I went into the bathroom and turned on the light and the sink, and I loved the feel of clear, cold water in my hands and on my face. Briefly, it flashed into my head that water was a powerful symbol, depicting the purity of the soul after its sins are washed away.

And it was there, I began to fight. I began verbally rebuking whoever, whatever I was afraid of, invoking the name of Christ over and over again, and then I knew its name! It was Despair, and I ordered him to leave me, in the name of Christ, leave me and my family and never come back. It took a while, but I kept fighting, and eventually I won.

I don't know how I knew that he had gone, but I am certain that he left, and I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror, wondering if my eyes were ever really that blue, or only after I cried. It sounds so vain to say it now, but I will say that my heart was pounding, but not in fear, and I was able to hold my back straighter than I have in a very long time.

I had WON! This feeling, this triumph, was something I have always dreamed of, but never imagined would feel so powerful! This absolute feeling of unadulterated victory made me positively dizzy, and it took me quite a while to come down off the high, during which I called my friend back and told them everything, and then went inside to wake my mother and tell her, too.

So now I know! Having been a martial artist for so long, I understand what it feels like to win. I remember and revel in the feel of goosebumps and chills on my skin, when the adrenalin is rushing like a river, and my heart is pounding, the beat of my blood loud in my ears. But this is all physical. What I experienced tonight was entirely spiritual and emotional, and as I have said before, it was so much HIGHER than anything I could have ever dreamed!

I now have a night that I can look back at and say "I have fought, and I have won. THIS is freedom. THIS is the power and victory that God grants us through the sacrifice of his Son!" I now consider myself a warrior in a way I never thought of before, and it is my fervent prayer that everyone in my life someday experiences this feeling, too! I swear to you, it will blow your mind!

Oh, Don't I Wish

This is just a rant that feels good to write. I'm feeling nostalgic. I realized the date this morning, and remembered why I realized it.

A year ago today, I flew home from my last trip to Colorado. One year ago was the last time I saw the woman I loved; the last time I kissed her, held her, held her hand, held her head, stroked her hair, brushed her face.

She moved on almost immediately. I was stunned at how fast she fell in love again, but I don't begrudge her that. Having talked with the guy, I know he's nice enough, and I like him, which doesn't surprise me.

I've made some progress. I don't miss her anymore, per se. We've talked a few times since then, and I like to think we're still friends. She's not trying to grind anything in my face, and I'm not trying to be bitter or jealous. What I really miss, what I truly do long for, is being in love.

I'm too much of a romantic for my own good. I begin to think that being a romantic has brought me nothing but heartache. I begin to think my hopes for life are impossibly high, and that I should just give in and come back down to Earth; stop all this crazy daydreaming. I'm not going to become some swashbuckling hero. I'll probably never get to use the skills I know for anything useful. No rescuing fair damsels in distress with martial arts or European weapons. It just doesn't happen. Hollywood is fiction, and it's interesting because reality is boring.

It's all so durn metaphorical! My dragon is school, my sword is knowledge, and supposedly, there's some maiden somewhere out there that's waiting for me to come meet her, or is looking for me, too... yeah, right. Whatever.

And what really stinks about this whole thing is that as much as I complain about the way things are, I KNOW that all this complaining isn't going to do any good at all... but it does feel good to write.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment, if you like.

Thoughts on a life

It’s one-thirty in the morning, and I have rarely been affected by the Friday evening before an event as I have this one. Crown List shall be held tomorrow inside the fort, and most of the pavilions of the contestants have already been set up.
I had thought that since I will most likely never fight in Crown List, I would step onto the field alone, and see if I could touch the power inherent in the field. There, under the stars, surrounded by pennons and emblems, I was able to sense an incredible aura. It spoke to me, of the courage and strength of warriors who were trained for battle, and longed for honor as they longed for nothing else with every beat of their hearts. I breathed deep the feeling of majesty, and reveled in it. Turning, I found I was not alone.
It was James. He also had come to contemplate the coming contest, and we talked briefly of it, about the sense of honor and duty that should be inherent in every armed encounter. Crown List is somewhat special, but it was his goal to meet each and every opponent with the same respect and reverence as he did on this field, and thus turn every fight into more than just an exchange of blows, but also a show of respect, and challenge. I will never forget what he told me. “Word fame is the coinage we trade, and it’s up to you to fill your pocket.”
He left shortly thereafter, but I lingered, climbing to the top of the fort so that I could enjoy the view of the coppery moon, very low in the horizon, which was eventually obscured by clouds. I thought deeply about this game we play, this dream we serve, this life we choose to lead. Most of us, myself included, are looking for something. What?
Escape from dull routine, the rut that becomes daily life; the rigors and toils of thankless jobs; a world without an understanding of our deepest desires (or even a want to understand them)… or more?

The opportunities for learning are literally limitless! The number of crafts alone are mind boggling, with nearly every material that can be thought of being made into almost anything that can be imagined:
Brewing various drinks like mead, ale or wine
Leatherwork into things like bottles, armor, bags and pouches, belts, boots and shoes, quivers and armguards, and even seats for stools!
Woodworking and carpentry for all types of furniture, such as beds, tables and chairs, cups and plates, tool and weapon handles, or musical instruments
Blacksmithing, or forging metals into weapons, armor, utensils, other tools, buckles and jewelry
Weaving things like flax into linen, to be used to make clothes, or knitting wool into things like scarves, sock, gloves, hats or bags, or making rope from hemp

And there are so many others, like working with glass, or beads, and many, many other crafts… but what about those of us who don’t so much make as do?
The various forms of combat with weapons such as the sword, spear or glaive, and what I refer to as the Timeless Arts, learning to throw knives, axes and spears, and the sport of archery
In music, one can learn to play, sing or dance to period tunes
Or, if one desires to learn more about what life was like way back when, there is an infinite and inexhaustible amount or resources for whatever research one feels like, from certain people in specific areas in a particular time frame (what was life like for the typical Cheshire peasant in 1130? What did he do for work? For fun? What did he wear? Believe?) to rough overviews on the long term effects of key events, or the circumstances leading up to them (What events led up to the Christian army trapping itself into the disaster of Hattin? How did the Magna Carta shape the world after 1215? Where did John Wycliffe get his inspiration, and who did he inspire, and what did they do, and who did they inspire, etc. ad infinitum!).

So the question remains… Why serve this dream? Why play this game? Why live this way?
For me, there is a search, yes; for learning, yes, for escape, in a way, but more for adventure! In the SCA, chivalry thrives, and one’s life is what they make of it, no matter what your background. Train for combat, learn a trade, know the camaraderie that comes from an honest-to-goodness feast, and experience romance in a dance where the only times you touch your partner are when you hold hands or link arms.
And in adventure can be found great things: skill, honor, loyalty, friendship and even love. But perhaps most of all, one finds themselves.
What am I capable of? What things will I learn, or learn to do, or make? How much honor can I win? How far will my name spread, and what will I do to make it known?
“Word fame is the coinage we trade, and it’s up to you to fill your pocket.”
No man knows the future. All he can do is live it.

A day's journal

I found that picture earlier today, and I thought it appropriate, considering I went back to a Herb Parson's shoot for the first time this year, and could hardly have asked for more! The day was bright, the sun was out, I was shooting my longbow with my father, and best of all, the forest has returned! I don't think I shot particularly well, but at least I was shooting, and I know what to work on the next time I practice.

For most of the rest of the day, I was with dear friends of mine, and at first, we talked stories. We brainstormed ideas for everything ranging from character development, works in progress, future ideas and plot twists. It was much fun, and I look forward to participating more regularly, now.

When I finally left, I came home and started spending time with family, something we as a family have not done for a while, considering Dad's in Ohio working on his plane most of the time and my brother's at college near Nashville; but they're both at home for now, and it's a great experience.

God bless, they're so durn FUNNY! It's one of the things I'm jealous of, concerning my brother. He has this incredible wit and an insanely innate sense of timing. Sparring him is a nightmare. Im reasonably sure I'm faster than him, but he sits back and defends himself, waiting for me to present him with an opening that I'm certain he knows is coming before I do. It's infuriating!

But I love him anyway, and dad too. He's where my brother and I got so many habits and mannerisms I love to watch. One only wonders what they're going to be like in the future! Here's to hoping my children inherit all the good things too.

Come With Me...

This past weekend saw the return of my beloved pastime, that glorious sport that consists of wandering into the woods with a quiver on my back and a longbow in my hand.

I was in Arkansas again. I know, the second time in two weeks, but hey, three hours isn’t really that far. This time, I was there specifically for an archery shoot. There were many people there, and the weather could hardly have been more perfect. There was a slight breeze, but I never saw it really affect our arrows. I was shooting with an SCA friend of mine and his six year old grandson. Kolr (pronounced “Cole”) is undoubtedly the finest archer in the kingdom of Gleann Abhann, but this was a mundane shoot.

It strikes me that almost every archery shoot I have attended has been populated with some of the friendliest people I have ever met, and I cannot help but wonder if that is because the sport of archery attracts that sort of people, or the forest attracts that sort, or a combination of the two of them. In any case, no matter how badly I shot, I could tell almost instantly that I was going to have fun (which I almost always do when I shoot anyway).

It was not Sun Tzu, but a contemporary Chinese man of that time that said “When an archer is shooting for enjoyment, he has all his skill. When he shoots for a brass buckle, he becomes nervous, and when he shoots for a prize of gold, he begins to see two targets.” That lesson has been ingrained in my head for years, and I credit it more than anything else with being able to shoot as well as I do. When you have fun, you do your best, and when you have fun, it encourages you to practice, which means more skill, which means more fun, which encourages practice, which means more skill, etc. ad infinitum!

I was having fun, which meant I was shooting very well. Better than I had hoped or thought I would do! There were thirty targets, and if our first shot missed, we were allowed to shoot a second arrow. I only had to do so once. A perfect score was 300, and my goal was to break 200, though I would have been perfectly happy with 150. When we finished, and my score was finally tallied, my jaw dropped. I had shot a 236.

After that first time around the course, Kolr drove his grandson home, and I was left at the shoot for a while. A man named Rocky had already been around once and was looking for people to go around again with him, so I volunteered. This time, I did not bring a scorecard, knowing I would do much better.

And I did. Rocky and I had a good time, shooting and talking politics, education and archery. He was shooting a recurve, and also hoped to break 200, but had shot a 186 with his longbow. I did not tell him my score right off.

By the time we hit target number 28, I felt I could snuff a candle from 30 feet. I shot my arrow, it scored well, and Rocky said “You should have brought a scorecard.” I told him that I had not because I knew I would be doing better this time, and I did not want to beat myself up, thinking “Now WHY couldn’t I have shot this well the first time around?!”

To which he finally asked me my score. Sheepishly, I admitted it, and he teased me for having held out on him. “Shooting a 236 with a traditional longbow and wooden arrows!”

When we got back to the clubhouse, Kolr handed me a second-place medal. Of the five other shooters in my division (men’s traditional longbow) only one had scored higher than me, a 255, and my closest competition was 202.

There were 53 shooters in the competition that shot targets from the same distance I did. Only fourteen of them scored better than me, one of them being Kolr (247). The high score of the day was 270, but I hasten to point out that of those fourteen, only one was in my division (255) and another used a more primitive version of my bow (242). All the rest were using either modern take-down longbows (where you had the option of shooting wooden, aluminum or carbon arrows) or recurves (which, in my opinion, are easier to shoot anyway).

I am proud of how well I did, but more than that, I am happy to have spent so much time shooting and wandering the woods again with such good company. Part of the magic of archery is its resilience. The art is so widespread, having been practiced by nearly every culture in the world. The art is so old, dating back to Biblical times, and yet we have it still! From the fields of France and the forests of Wales to a little walking trail just north of Conway, Arkansas, the men of the bow have survived despite the decline of their use in combat.

(Incidentally, I learned that the last instance of a longbow being used in a combative sense was as late as 1940! An English officer, Captain Jack Churchill, who had competed in Oslo at the World Championships, happened to have his bow with him and killed a German soldier with it at something like 30 yards. Before that, in 1791, two men stood apart from each other for a duel and each fired three arrows. No blood was drawn.)

I shoot well because I enjoy shooting so much. I enjoy shooting for many reasons, and one of them is because it’s so simple, and yet it’s results, when compounded, can be absolutely devastating!

I have noted before that I enjoy the feeling of knowing that on this day, somewhere on Earth, exactly a thousand years before me, someone exactly like me was doing the exact same thing, whether it be sitting around a campfire with my friends telling jokes and stories or singing songs, or throwing axes, knives or spears, or making a new bowstring, or yes, shooting my longbow. I revel in this feeling, this connection with a past that is mine because I share a tradition with it. It is my time travel into History, and I am always eager to introduce someone else to this magnificent experience that is traditional archery.

Why not you?

Walk with me.

Journey by my side, and I will show you a world a classroom can never show you. Instead of looking at History, step into History, and I promise you, it will come alive as you would never have believed.

Weekends SO rock.

Well, the other foot finally fell. I was afraid it would, and I'd been waiting for it, so it wasn't quite as bad as it might have been, but it still happened.

Not surprisingly, it happened on a Sunday night and continues now into Monday morning. I'm not a morning person. I hate Mondays outright. Ergo, you can imagine how much I loathe the idea of Monday mornings.

But I'm starting out wrong. In order for one foot to fall, the other has to have fallen already. That was the good part.

Friday night was bar-none one of the best nights of my life. It wasn't really because I went to se a movie with friends. It's because I was having fun with EIGHT of my best friends all at the same time! We went to see Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, which is a prequel to the other two Underworld movies. It's very good; could have been better, but the point is that I was with friends. Afterwards, we went out to IHOP and spent some good times talking about lots of things and being goofy like we always manage to somehow be. It really was a night of great memories I'll cherish as long as I live.

Sunday was another really good day, too! Chris, Hutch, Ashley, Nick and I went out to some land owned by Hutch's grandfather to shoot. And we shot a LOT. For just the handguns, there was my Norinco 1911, Chris's .50 Desert Eagle, Hutch's pair of Kimber 1911's, a .357 and a Taurus .44 magnum AMONG OTHERS!

There were big guns, too. The smallest was my Ruger .22 semi-automatic. Chris brought a Benelli 12-gauge pump action as well as an AK-47 and an M-4. Hutch also brought an AK-47 as well as a double barrelled break action 12-gauge with an 18 inch barrel and a bullpup, and there were others I can't quite call to mind, but my absolute favorite was his synthetic-stocked, fluted-barrelled, 5-shot bolt action .308 Kimber sniper rifle... with scope!

There were some interesting targets, too! Apples, cabbages, squash and coconuts make lovely exploding things to shoot at. We also learned that while the aluminum casing of a computer MAY repel birdshot, it's like paper for double-aught buck shot. There were also many clay pigeons for the shotgun shooters, and there were pictures taken all day long. You can see them on Facebook.

But all of that was the good foot. I knew I had to come down off the high because I had school the next day, and I had to start thinking about other responsibilities of my life. I have a myriad of projects to do for the SCA as well as testing for my fourth degree in March to think about. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to get it all done, and I'm scared to death that I'm not going to be able to satisfy everyone.

The really bittersweet moment came late Sunday night when I had one of those soul-searching conversations. It was a good conversation, and I'm glad it was had. I just wish it had been on some other night than SUNDAY!

Growth

I was struck this afternoon by a thought I probably should have been struck by a long time ago.

At the time, I was daydreaming. I know, big shocker, right? But hey, I'd been brainstorming about my online RPG character. He's big on martial arts, and I was wondering what kind of weaponry he would prefer/would be proficient with. What I came up with was an interesting conglomeration of modern military and ancient Japan. The .308 sniper rifle and handgun tactics would be most of the modern stuff. The more ancient arts are the blades and staff: tactical knife fighting and throwing, perhaps throwing stars, maybe blowguns, but most definitely, the exquisite art called "Battojutsu" which basically encompasses the unarmed Samurai arts of judo, aikido and jujitsu as well as kenjutsu and iaijutsu, the sword arts.

As all of this went through my head, I remembered what I had read and learned about martial arts, in particular the teachings of the sword arts: that physical lessons are important, but are not the most relevant lessons to be learned. That was when I was struck by the aforesaid thought that I should have been struck by a long time ago.

One cannot improve the body without improving the mind.

There are two reasons for this. One, it is unavoidable. When the body is exercised, the flow of blood encourages the harmony of all muscles, including the brain and its functions. Exercising also produces the pleasant side-effects that accompany a sense of accomplishment, which typically improves one's mood, which is also very healthy. So you see, all of them are tied together one way or another, and influences are very easy to manipulate. The next time you feel down in the dumps and don't have any better ideas, try some exercise!

The second reason that one cannot improve the body without improving the mind is that it is unwise. A strong body without a mature mind is a loose cannon, shifting wildly back and forth with emotional extremes. If one is an expert marksman but does not know where to aim, one is not only ineffective and of little use, but also dangerous, and a hazard to everyone, including himself.

Besides, when it comes right down to it, a warrior's greatest weapon is nothing he can lay his hands on or do with his own body, but his mind.

I go back to school on Monday. I don't look forward to it, but at this point if it would help me graduate faster, I'd clean every bathroom on campus with nothing but a toothbrush and my own spit.

That would be improving the mind. I'll be going back to taekwondo classes this semester, too. I hope to test for my fourth degree in March, and I don't quite feel ready for it yet. Thank God there's time.

That would be improving the body. Only tw things remains un-addressed, which cannot be improved by default by training the body:

The heart and the spirit. Those can only be improved on their own, and luckily, I've for just the right idea for it.

Balance

Yes, the picture changed again. This doesn't mean my attitudes or beliefs have changed. It's just to reflect the subject matter discussed in the post.

It's about balance this time; balance in life, that is. I'm a person of emotional extremes. I've talked about all of them often enough, whether in real life or on this blog; you know, the times of "I hate this world, I wanna go away, live in the forest as a hermit the rest of my life!" But then of course, I get to that point and remember what I was, and what I hoped to be: that glorious, shining example of knighthood, and I think to myself "Maybe I can still get there." My friends and family are always my most help during these times. They coax me back out of the forest so that I can get back to living life the way it should be lived. And then there are also the times of frivolous carelessness, when I get carried away with the giddiness of life and all its joys, which is a wonderful thing!

But I need to learn moderation. In all things, there must be an equilibrium.

So. The Hunter, the Knight and the Jester combine into one person: me! But then, there are probably a lot more aspects to me that could be pointed out and personified. Anyone care to share? I enjoy learning new things about myself, whether they be good or bad. Don't be shy!

P.S. The picture is one of a series my friend took out at my place. I tried to make the shots as period as possible, including my clothing and equipment. The tunic is brand new, and is bar-none the most period piece of clothing I've got. It's wool, and the style dates back to Europe in the early 13th century. Most of my other equipment is a hodge-podge collection from different people, but no less period (except that my bow is made of osage, a purely New World material; but it's still an English longbow, whose design dates back to before the Crusades). I didn't have any period gloves, so I thought it better to shoot without them, rather than have glaring anachronisms thrown in there. The rest of the pics taken that day (as well as many more!) can be found here: http://archeroftoday.deviantart.com/gallery/

Stand

I never thought the holidays could be considered days of industry. I always thought of them as times of frantic shopping, planning, partying and church preparation. This past SCA event, Christmas Revel, was a lot of fun, and it seems to have left me with a sense of production.

My friend Uther was rewarded for the fact that the appearance of his hard kit (his fighting gear) has been getting more and more accurate to his time period (the late 1100's). He now fights in a German Crusader-era helm and a padded gambeson. All the rest of his protective armor is covered. When he fights, he looks as if he just stepped off the pages of an illuminated manuscript!

His family has done a heck of a lot for me, so I'm trying to put a lot of thought into their Christmas presents. Of course, most of that wouldn't be anything bought, but a lot of things made. It's interesting. I've never made this much for people before.

What is it that happens in the mind when one is inspired? What trigger is pulled that makes one want to do more, greater, better things? Is it some sort of chemical reaction? I doubt it. I think that's the difference between lust and love. One is entirely shallow, the other is deep and lasting.

I've never made a New Year's resolution before. There are too many things in my head that can change for the better. Where should I start? At first, the superficial: developing the better looking armor for my period and making lots of other things (since I am an apprentice, after all). Then there are the deeper changes. I'll be going back to school soon. I'm still an assistant instructor in martial arts, and I might even be taking on some private students of my own, too.

I'm uncertain about what I'll be going up against next semester, besides classes and my own psyche. School (not lessons or learning) has always been my enemy, hated and despised, but it is all but conquered. Only three semesters left, God willing.

I've already talked about personal changes in my last post. I think of this one as an affirmation... that, and I just had to find an excuse to put up the new pic I found! Yeah, he's a Hospitaller, not a Templar, and the armor's a bit late for me, and there are too many straps on him... but it's still cool. I had to remove the title and description of my blog because it obscured his head. When I change the pic, they'll go back up.

Who shall I become?

A few days ago, I was completely shocked. I was told something I had never been told before, had never stopped to think about before, would never have even remotely considered before.

I was being reprimanded (and rightly so) for my lack of ambition in the SCA. I have said before that I am a slacker. I tend to prefer things being done for me, rather than doing them myself. This is going to change. A lot of things are going to change. I have not been living up to my responsibilities, and my priorities have been out of whack. There were other things said that I don’t entirely remember, and other things that were said that I will be able to recall sixty years from now with perfect clarity.

“You are a leader.”

That was the essence of it. I could not believe it, and when it was told to my face, I sat back in stunned silence. The person telling me this continued: “I’ve seen you with your friends. You don’t follow them around. They follow you.”

The honor of the person telling me this is above suspicion. Deception is a concept foreign to them, and flattery is almost completely unknown to them. They were telling me what they believe to be the honest truth.

I’m not sure I entirely comprehend it, yet, and I’m not even sure if I fully believe it. Honest they may be, but perhaps also misguided, but then again, I doubt it.

I begin to question my personal motives. In all the daydreams of my life, in all of my romantic imagined scenes of my days, never have I even once entertained notions of being a leader. I’ve never wanted it. There’s too much responsibility that goes along with it for my taste. I have no desire for power over anyone or anything but my own life. I enjoy shooting and helping when and where I can, even going so far as to teach anyone who wants to learn whatever it is I can offer them… but not lead them. I’ve never imagined doing anything remotely resembling leadership. I’ve never been a role model before, or an example. I’ve always imagined myself as a soldier, not a commander, and I’ve been happy that way.

I suppose it’s good to question your beliefs every once in a while. It re-affirms what you believe and gets rid of the things you thought you believed in, but really don’t anymore. For sixteen years, I have been a student, a disciple, of “constant and never ending improvement.” But tonight I ask myself “Why?”

Why do I believe this? Why have I not abandoned this idea, or why has it not left me? Mostly, I think because I began to live by it in my youth. I was not even ten when I began to hear the initial teachings of this philosophy. Anyway, that’s one reason. I’m sure there are others, and they come to mind, but I don’t entirely feel like putting them all down tonight.

What I’m more concerned with right now is what I said earlier, about questioning beliefs. In short… “Why is everyone so obsessed with improvement?”

Isn’t there such a concept as being content, anymore? Can there be no time for leisure, for rest, for enjoyment in the status quo, the way things are? Is it human nature to always want more? I think there would be a heck of a lot less stress in the general world if people learned to let things be, that sometimes, there isn’t any improvement needed.

But then, I guess some things are just meant to be. Honestly, I hope they’re wrong. I enjoy the thought of being asked to do something because I’m trustworthy and capable (granted, something I need to work on). I never wanted to be a leader, and I’ve never asked for it… but that doesn’t mean I’ll dodge it.

For the first time in my life, I really begin to find myself open to the idea of a destiny outside the realm of romance. I’ve never believed in that kind of thing. I always thought a person’s life is what they make it, but of course, there’s always the delight of finding out what God wants you to do with your life… and then there’s this… part of you that you have no control over… sometimes, we can control what we learn… other times, we have no choice in the matter. A lesson is impressed upon our subconscious and we are changed because of it. Sometimes, it’s not even a lesson… It’s just something that’s given to you. Part of your character, I suppose. Yeah, that’s it. Anyway, I was saying that character is something that can be shaped by someone other than you… and it’s done for a reason.

I don’t know what it is. I know that my name means “Shining Fame” and I always assumed that meant I was destined to have many good friends. I know that for the first time, I am not entirely opposed to the idea of being a leader, even though I never ever would have seen it coming if someone else had not pointed it out to me. I know that should I not be asked to become a leader, I will be happy, but I also know that if I am asked to do so… I will not be alone and I will be equipped for it.

U.S.C.S.F.

I've never done well when learning something under pressure... but there are SO many things out there I would LOVE to learn, but apparently, the only way to learn them is to subject oneself to the arduous journey that is boot camp.

I speak of the military arts. Now let me be clear, these are not the same as martial arts. Although they are combative, the intent of martial arts may not be purely so. Many practice some martial art or other for a variety of reasons; exercises to develop things like speed, stamina, strength, flexibility and coordination, or perhaps they wish to use martial arts as a spiritual journey that delves deeper into one's own personal psyche. Whatever the case may be, they are only one of the many assets that are employed by the Armed Forces.

I have been fascinated by our military for some time now, and if I felt called to it, I would join it in a heartbeat. As a matter of fact, one of my friends is already in the Army, and my best friend is going to join the Coast Guard at the first chance he gets, and he's invited me to go with him. I'm considering it. I've never liked the thought of boot camp. I don't mind being told what to do, and I would love what I was being taught; it's the way they teach me that would grate on my nerves. Having said that, I can still understand why they teach the way they do. If you can't handle Basic Training, there's no WAY you'll make it in an armed conflict. But still, I like the thought of having a friend there to bear it with me. I made the decision earlier this year that if I graduate and still have made no headway in finding out where I belong in life, I will be joining the National Guard. Unfortunately, that can only be a part-time engagement, and it's not enough to make a career out of. When my buddy asked me if I'd like to go with him, I told him I'm not at home in water the way I am on land. He's the fish, not me... then I found out about the diversity of the Coast Guard. Did you know that even they employ snipers?!

THIS would be me getting back to the original topic of conversation. I've been a martial artist for 16 years. I can fight unarmed and armed with knives, which I can also throw. I have received training in wielding a handgun which I plan on expanding. I am experienced in moving quickly and quietly over many obstacles when I must. I have also been told I'm a good listener (remember this point, it comes back later).

Now here's what I would LIKE to learn: how to properly apply camouflage face paint. How to shoot well at long distances, which means being able to adjust for things like wind, elevation and humidity. How to clear a building, whether alone or with partners. How to notice key elements in one's surroundings, like who's carrying a weapon, if they know how to use it to its maximum potential, and if threatened, how I can neutralize it. How to outsmart someone I am pursuing, or someone pursuing me. How to negotiate with someone who has a gun pressed against his head, or that of another's (remember that point about being a good listener?). How to silently communicate with someone across the room.

Now all of these and MANY more way cool things can be learned at academies for people who eventually become soldiers, Marines, SEALS, Green Berets, Rangers, FBI agents or SWAT team members. Which is great!... but what about us folks who may not be up to some of the other challenges of boot camp?

I'm not saying I'm not up to the challenge, and I'm not trying to make excuses for not joining up. I'm simply wondering how one goes about learning these kinds of things if one's plans do not include a career in the Armed Forces...

I've had this little thought picking at my mind for a little while, now, and I like the thought, even though it's probably HIGHLY impractical, but there are some logical points to it. I believe that as many people as possible should learn how to handle themselves in a worst-case scenario, whether that be a purse-snatching to attempted rape or even murder. Here are three scenarios (granted, one is MUCH less realistic than the others) which illustrate my points:

A man walks into the grocery store and either does not notice or chooses to ignore the two dark figures lounging at the corner of the building smoking cigarrettes and watching him. Ten minutes later, the man exits the grocery store with his hands full of bags and does not see the two men follow him to his car and grab him from behind, stabbing him swiftly in the back before he can cry out. They lay him down between the cars, snatch his wallet, stand, and WALK away, knowing that running would only attract attention.

That scenario was told to me by Tom Givens, the man who taught my concealed-carry permit class, and it illustrates that ultimately, the best weapon is nothing anyone can see, but your own mindset. Now these other scenarios are a bit more triumphant.

On your very stereotypical dark and stormy evening, a woman is alone in her home when the electricity blinks out. Eh, no biggie, just a power outage in a storm, happens all the time... but then she looks out her window and notices that every other house on the street is still lit up like a Christmas tree. Curious, she picks up her phone to call the power company or a neighbor, but the phone is dead, too... then the doorbell rings. She has two options: One, go to the door and see who it is. Two, ignore the doorbell by pretending no one is home whilst making sure her cell phone is charged. Let's say she's a clever girl and decides not to go to the door. It's a good choice, considering the house caller has now broken the glass of a nearby window and is now crawling inside. Now the woman's choice is very clear. Make for the bedroom, close the door, and shoulder the shotgun whilst standing far enough away to let the door swing open before she pulls the trigger.

(This last scenario is the really un-realistic one, but still possible... and it's my blog, and I enjoy writing this kind of thing anyway, so deal!)

You've been blessed with a beautiful home with an even more beautiful lawn that sweeps from the street about 100 yards to your front door. Your bedroom boasts a window balcony with a genuine first class view of said front lawn and street, as well as the house directly across from you, inhabited by a very charming young man who has had the sad misfortune of dating a woman with a history of violent obsession, and has not taken her medication in quite some time. One fine Saturday morning, you wake and pull yourself out of bed to find a dazzling sunshine beaming down on a horrific scene. Across the street, you can see your nieghbor, still clad in a fuzzy robe and slippers bending down to retrieve his newspaper, when all of a sudden, PsychoLady runs up to him, apparently screaming obscenities because of his recent break up with her. Before the man can even raise his head in surprise, she clouts him over the head with a Louisville Slugger and appears to have every intention of having at him whilst he is incapacitated. Now YOU are the one with a choice. You could call the police. You could even conceivably jump off the balcony, and assuming you broke nothing, could start tearing like a shot towards them to do something heroic. You could also go back to bed, and when the police finally arrive, you can lie, telling them you never saw a thing, which they could not possibly disprove... or, you can reach for the .308 Winchester, rest it on the balcony, settle the cross-hairs, taking into account 100 yards- no, wait, they're across the street, so make it 110 yards (give or take a few feet) with a slight cross-breeze, and squeeze the trigger.

...I seem to have gotten long-winded and seemingly paranoid about this subject. I apologize. I am in no way an extremist or a vigilante. I do, however, possess an over-active imagination and a desire to learn certain things.

Anyway, the upshot and point of all of this is where the people in these scenarios could get the kind of training that would save their own lives or those of others without having to leave their families, friends and careers behind, or having to be yelled down by drill instructors. Just because people don't want to go into battle doesn't mean they don't want the knowledge.

I call it U.S.C.S.F.
United States Civilian Special Forces

I just know I'm going to get a heck of a lot of criticism for this, but you know what... I don't mind, this time. What are your thoughts? Am I crazy? Off my rocker? The deep end? Call the men in white lab coats?... Am I making anyone nervous? I'll be waiting!

My Heart

First, I want to say "Thank you." I had no idea what to expect when I made that last post after such a long silence, but the response from people I love so much was amazing. I love you guys.

Tonight, I sit here forlorn in front of the TV finding even Home Improvement and MASH unable to cure my blues. I never thought it would get to THAT point. Somehow, the mishaps on Tool Time and 4077 have never failed to bring a smile, and they've been my televisionic(?) home away from home.

God, it feels good to rant. I am struck this evening at the incredible range of emotions within the human heart. How is it that this thing pumping life-giving blood throughout the entire expanse of our incredible body is also the symbol of two such drastically contrasting and opposed feelings?

One feeling is marvelously beneficial! It reduces stress and leads to activities such as laughter, which increases the blood flow throughout the human system. The incredible physiological relief a smile makes is well-nigh unimaginable, to say nothing of the heavenly thrill, the gloriously gorgeous, most satisfying, most pleasing, most perfectly passionate feeling the human heart can experience... true love...

In many ways, it is even more than just a feeling... it is the lifeblood of cultures, the muse of poets, storytellers and musicians. Men and women throughout History have yearned for it, reveled in it and ultimately even died for want of it. Wars have been waged over it, the weak, penniless and pitiful have become great only when inspired by it and royalty has fallen because of it. It is the sweet fruit of love that has enticed the entire human race since God created Eve, and once tasted, never truly fades away. Its lingering tang can still be experienced by the heart for decades after the first bittersweet jolt of Cupid's arrow has surged through the body...

And so it is thus that only after such unreachable heights have been attained that unprecedented falls can be happened upon. The higher one goes, the farther one falls. I must apologize for this continuing vein of topic, but I guess I just haven't finished falling yet.

God, I never thought I could feel such things in my life! It was all so unutterably, tenderly... crystal clear! It was like floating on a Summer's twilight atop a pool of purest water, as smooth as glass...

Shattered. That's what this is, or at least, it's what it feels like. I'm not broken. I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere... but I feel like a window smashed through with a brick, and the glass is still falling. Maybe once it's done I can start picking up the pieces again... but I doubt my heart will ever be the same.

But then... there's always hope, isn't there?

The way I see it, there are two things I can hope for: I can hope to get past this feeling quickly and be thankful for having experienced it, or I can hope for things to turn around, or to even learn from my mistakes and experiences and turn them around myself, and make things be the way they always should have been.

Story of my life: Hope Springs Eternal. Only time will be able to tell what's going to happen.

Pain, Changes and Beliefs

::sigh:: So much change in such a long time, and not all of it very good at all.

I'm sorry for not posting in a really long time, but right now, I'm hurting more than I ever have in my life. There is actually more than one contributing factor to that, and I'm not going to go into them all. Suffice it to say that at the moment, the world seems a dark, gloomy place, and the weather isn't helping. I hate winter. The cold is bitter, and everything I love in nature seems to die in front of me. All the gorgeous green fades away, and my most beloved places in the world, the forests, are left desolate and bare, seemingly devoid of any life at all, painfully unable to lift me up, away from my cares and woes.

This pain I feel at the moment might not be so bad if I'd experienced it at some point or another in my life, but nothing's ever really prepared me for something like this. It might not be so bad either if it would actually stop! The event which caused most of this happened months ago, and I would have thought that some kind of progress might have been made by now, and I suppose some has, but it still keeps me up at night, and I hate it.

I want things to go back to the way they used to be, even though I think I can understand why they changed... but things can change again, can't they? People learn from the pains and experiences in their lives, and they grow into better people.

Not everything recently has been bad experience. I was a traveling salesman in The Music Man when it came to the Harrell Theater in Collierville, and that was lots of fun. I plan on doing more theater in the future, and maybe even looking around for an agent somewhere.

My taekwondo instructor asked me when I was testing for my fourth degree. When I said I didn't know, he said he wanted me to test in March. I said "Yes, sir" and commented that I suppose I'd gotten complacent with where I was in my career with taekwondo, to which my instructor looked at me and said "Constant and Never Ending Improvement." This motto is the core, the very foundation of our taekwondo federation, and it convicted me pretty hard.

When it comes down to it, I'm a slacker. It's reflected in practically everything I do. There's almost no such thing as consistency in my life. I don't practice anything regularly, my study habits have never been good, I've never completed any personal projects I can think of, and my moods and actions are at best, erratic.

But all that can change, too. I guess I needed some kind of goal, or maybe I was just looking for something to do, but I've started working out again, and it feels good to realize how much I haven't forgotten, and to simply try and imagine how much more I could be capable of.

In this randomly traveled path I walk in trying to improve myself (however roundabout my route may be) I have taken the courses and acuired a permit to carry a concealed weapon. Many people will ask why, and even after I explain my reasons, many will still not understand, and that's ok, as long as no one tries to convince me to change my mind about it.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I am not paranoid or in fear for my life from anyone specific. I am simply exercising my Second Amendment right to bear arms. This world is broken and dangerous, and there are only three kinds of people in it. Most people are sheep, defenseless, oblivious and perfectly content to keep going from blade of grass to blade of grass. They are preyed upon by the wolves who seek out an easy meal at the expense of life. These wolves are why there must be the sheepdogs. They may not be able to protect the entire flock, but they are certainly formidable and will defend themselves and others at whatever cost.

Many people believe that the police are our sheepdogs, but it is not true. The police are purely a rectionary force. They are not called to any crime scene until there is a crime committed, and that could take a lethally long time. I plan on preventing something from happening for the police to investigate and becoming another statistic.

THAT is what this is all about. Ironically, the very heart of every martial art in the world is the concept of defense. These days, the gun is the new sword. Only the weapons of warriors have changed through the ages, not the mindset. "The idea is not to hurt your enemy, but to stop them from hurting you" whatever that may take, and sadly, that sometimes means taking their life to save your own or that of another.

I am not a murderer. I do not want to kill another human being, and I will do whatever I can to avoid it, but if I must, I will not shy from pulling the trigger to save my own life or the life of someone I love.

I can sit here and type out so very many horror stories that could have been stopped had the victim had a weapon, or even stories where the victims came out on top, or I could spell out the figures that cite the verifiable fact that when citizens are armed, violent crime rates drop like proverbial rocks, but the upshot of the whole thing is that people understand why I carry a weapon and am not afraid to use it if I have to, even though I hope I never do.

I see the right to keep and bear arms as more than just a privilege: it's a responsibility. Our Constitution is stained with the blood of men who died to defend the ideas written there, the very cornerstone of our country, the foundation of which is NOT religion, but nothing less than the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Cornerstones are just that: stone. They are inflexible, unyielding and unchangeable, or at least they should be. To seek the alteration of what those men died for is to mock their memory and belittle their sacrifice.

I may not be a warrior, but I am a fighter, and I may not be a soldier, but I am a patriot of what is undoubtedly the greatest nation on Earth, probably the greatest nation the world has ever seen. We are stronger, freer, and better people than any others in History, and that is because of our roots. I wear this weapon as a symbol of what I believe and as a tribute to the men from whom we are descended, whose legacy lives and even thrives today in the hearts of those who take the time to learn where we come from and honor it.

God bless, there's a lot of other stuff going through my head right now, but I'm glad to have written this much, and appreciate the time you've taken to read it all. I feel better, now. Drop me a line to let me know that people are still glancing here every now and then, if you don't mind.

Thanks again.

Chasin' Dem Dreams

Before anyone accuses me of taking those arrows and sticking them in the target by hand, I will swear here and now that all six of those shafts were shot at a measured distance of twenty yards in less than thirty seconds.

I stopped by Ty's place to practice yesterday, expecting to not perform as well as would like to, and I surprised myself. If I had done that well at a competition I recently attended, I would have walked away with the prizes easily! Instead, I find that my mistake was that I over-concentrated and was nowhere near relaxed enough to hit my A-game.

Today, I made a bowstring for a friend, and when I put it on the bow and shot, I found I was hitting one-inch leaves at ten yards! And it was so easy! Granted, that was mostly because it's a recurve with a formed grip and at least ten pounds lighter than I usually shoot, but it was just so much fun!

When I was a child, my dreams were made up of Robin Hood and King Arthur. When Dad and I started shooting longbows, my dreams were made up of ten-rings and bull's eyes. When I joined the SCA, I dreamed of becoming the next William Marshal. And now?

These days, I think my dreams are made up of having fun. I turned 25 yesterday, and it feels different from 24, just like 24 felt different from 23. It's taken me a long time to figure out what I want out of life, and just when I think I've got myself all figured out, I surprise myself one way or another. When one relaxes, he's good. When one has fun, he's even better, and even if he's not, he cares less about it.

I'm not going to give up on the dream of becoming a knight...but I am going to put it on hold for a while; probably a few years. I have decided to pursue even more skill with my bow than I ever thought myself capable of achieving. I have made a reputation for myself as one of the best longbowmen in Gleann Abhann. Now it is time to broaden my scope. I know there are kingdoms I can best, and even if I don't, I'm going to have a ball trying!

I'm not going to give up my dream of a degree. I can't go back to school this semester, but I will next semester, and I will be better. In the meantime, I've re-discovered the lure of acting. Hopefully, I can earn a few extra dollars as an extra in a few things and maybe get my face around to get some exposure and experience.

Eventually, I'll follow my dream of gymnastics, too. I don't want to compete, and I don't even want to accomplish that much, but I do want to learn how to tumble. I've got to get back to TKD, too. My body's in good shape, but it can be better.

All this talk about dreams comes from a lot of things happening in my life, and watching the Olympics contributes, too. They have archery as a sport, and it might still be called archery, but just barely. I want to compete someday with the traditional stuff. Maybe it's possible to beat all those fancy fiberglass recurves with their sights, three-foot stabilizers and carbon arrows with plastic vanes with nothing but a string, two sticks, some feathers, and your own body.

Only one way to find out...

So It's Been A While...

Gosh, I don't know where to start...there's just so much!

Colorado was...amazing, as always, and Lanelle was/is wonderful, as usual. She, her family and I had so much fun! We visisted the Renn Fest, Six Flags and Vail, threw knives and axes, shot our bows, played much cards, did a LOT of dancing..man, it was such a wonderful time. And of course, time flew, and there was never enough of it.

::sigh:: I miss her so much. There's so much I want to see with her, and do with her. So many places I want to go.

When I came home, I started preparing for the household gathering at my house. Everyone showed up Saturday morning, unpacked and set up tents, did a spot of fighting, then hit the pool. I did a bit of throwing and a bit of shooting with some friends, but mostly, everyone stayed in the pool. There was great talk and great fod with great people. Afterwards, there was a campfire, and people spent the night. The next morning (this morning) everyone left. Mom went to Murfreesboro to visit my brother and get some tools to my dad for working on the plane...so now I have the house to myself for a week. Friends of mine know that, and I won't be lonely, though.

Two nights ago a whole bunch of us went to go see The Dark Knight, which is EVERYTHING I expected it to be, and more! God bless, so much of that movie is just so perfect. Looking forward to the third one!

::sigh:: There's way too much on my mind right now, and I'm distracted. I've got plans, though. Tomorrow, I need to rturn some movies, then actually get to class, which I haven't done in months. Afterwards, more hanging out with friends!

I'll try to catch up on some more frequent posting. C ya!

A brief update on LOVE!

Hi, everyone! Sorry I haven't been posting. Out here, I have extremely limited access to the Internet, so I wasn't able to post anything last night or the night before, so here it is.

Hey hey, my first nonstop flight! It was quite a blessing, and went quite well. My lady met me at the airport around 3, local time, and after the ecstatic reunion, we got down to business of unloading my stuff. I'm staying at her father's house this time. I don't remember much of the first day.

Yesterday was packed! Lanelle and I went to meet with friends at the Renn Faire! It's just fun wandering around watching people and listening to music. We did get to see one of the jousts, and it was fun, even if it was choreographed and mildly hokey. After the Faire, we came home, got showers and changed to go swing dancing! Lanelle's dad went with us, so I kept him company while Lanelle danced more than him and me combined. We were all whipped by the time the dance was over.

Today was slower and more relaxed. Lanelle's dad, her young brother Aven and I threw axes and knives a lot and we started messing around with our bows too. There were also card games galore, and we went to see Kung Fu Panda.

Don't know what we have planned for tomorrow, but you can bet I'll love it just because I'm here with her! Keep watching!

Reflections on Movies

Wow, this is going to be a random short post that I should probably go deeper into later. For now, though, bear with me.

Been seeing a lot of movies! We'll start with Get Smart. I never saw the original series, so I have nothing to compare it to, but even by itself, it's a wonderful movie! Lots of fun, cool gadgets, and good lessons too, like learning that even bad guys are people too, and learning to love yourself for who you are.

Now there are two movies I saw recently that actually have a common subject matter, even though it doesn't look that way. The one I saw earlier tonight was The Incredible Hulk. Again, I never saw the first version, which everyone said was absolutely horribe, so I don't have too much to compare it to. But again, by itself, it's one great ride! This one talks more about priorities and the consequences of actions more than anything else.

Now the last one was my favorite! Kung Fu Panda! This is one of those classic "there's a little hero in all of us" type thing, with a lot of great humor mixed in! (Hee hee! If you don't plan on seeing the movie, ask me about "Skadoosh!") I loved it! The few things I disagreed with were the undertones of Buddhist thinking; specifically, the ideas of fate and looking within yourself to find unlimited power. This is the subject matter that is shared with The Hulk: power.

The physical strength of The Hulk comes from a scientific experiment gone wrong. It's very scientific, delving into biology, radiation and chemistry. In Kung Fu Panda, the key to limitless power lies within oneself.

I believe that humans are born flawed and imperfect. No one has to teach us how to lie. The Bible speaks endlessly on the human conditions of sin and mortality. As beings that are fallen, humans are therefore incapable of attaining perfection.

I believe that true power comes from Christ alone, He who is perfect, pure, and incorruptible.

So yeah, like I said, that's my point, and I should probably go deeper into it, but I'm tired tonight, so this is what you get.