I write this blog to share my inner feelings and my fragmented, fermented experiences that relate to things that are personal. I try to illustrate in words what I cannot capture in images or demonstrate through pure action. I wish to convey to other souls that I am not limited by the use of this abstraction that I am building from. The medium I have chosen for my artistic endeavors is not as stale or stagnant as others have claimed. I believe language can be a useful tool in the communication between disparate individuals, and I do believe that communication is one of the most incredibly beautiful things that we can invest energy into. I celebrate any time communication can overcome the subjective differences of the past, and the pressure of those who love and believe they have our best interests in mind. Thus, I wish to tell you a fairy tale that might potentially provide such a revelation. I will attempt to weave such a historical piece not from the distant realms of castles and knights and nymphs, or leprechauns and enchanted forests -- but instead from the very fabric of this reality that we have constructed together to provide us a method of bridging the gaps between our souls.
I am going to record, here, in this blog entry: the beginnings of a story that will only end in a the very distant future. Right now, where I sit, here, in this temporal position. This is just the preface of a greater adventure that two very brave and radiant souls have begun upon. While I have but bits and pieces of this splendid and magnificent triumph, I shall in all humility, do my best to provide what moth-eaten memories I have managed to preserve. In this tale, I shall speak of two primary protagonists: one male, and one female. These are the essential ingredients, after all, for any heterosexual love story. Here are things as I remember them.
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I cannot precisely recall the specifics of my meeting our young male protagonist. In that, I mean, I cannot tell you precisely what year or what quarter it was. The records the university used to have posted online that might have allowed me to reconstruct my memory, have been deleted -- and the details are not honestly absolutely of a critical quality. Imagine, if you will, I am a now an very elderly individual whose youth was spent in some studious profession. In kind, I met our young hero in the initial capacity as a tutor. At this time I was a tutor to the apothecary. The records where information detailing how I went through life were written on parchment, which having encountered the floods of more recent unfortunate weather events in my humble abode, became water-logged and nearly indecipherable. Regardless, our hero was a troubled spirit when first this humble story teller crossed paths with him. He was quite powerful, even then, but had been scarred by such horrors and awful tragedies he had beheld first hand in battle -- it is little wonder he did not realize his own potential. Our hero was a impressive figure, walking with the clear air of a knight errant, though with a ferocity reminiscent of the most regal of citizens (he does this without realizing it). Like any brave soldier whose life had been spent far too close to the line, he carried fallen comrades with him, and the guilt that goes with it. He was to later inform me that it was my persistence and belief in him that gave him the strength to hold strong through his studies, and graduate from the university. After the brief honor I was bestowed as serving as his tutor, we retained contact through occasional conversations on the wondrous electronic world of Facebook. This will be the first time I mention this strange yet useful tool. For, had it not been for Facebook, I might well not have had the continued pleasure of calling our hero my friend.
I could attempt to dig through more water-logged parchments from my distant past, in an effort to pull forth more candid images of our hero from his early days, but I do not believe my efforts would be of much avail. My poor records are quite damaged, and they would not do much to contribute to the wonder of what this tale really is about, anyway. It should be suffice to say that our hero was a fantastic person from the get go, but was unable to accept himself for the glorious soul that he has always been.
But that will not always be the case.
Now, let us jump forward a couple years. Our hero graduates in the Spring of 2008 and moves out of the Kingdom of Davis, to a distant land. It is now the Winter Quarter of the year 2009. I am once more serving as a tutor, this time for the court physician. One of my students was our glorious heroine. Slight of frame and clever of wit, as all who met her would easily recall, our heroine made an impression upon anyone that crossed paths with her. Unlike many of similar stature, she never suffered from any sort of inferiority complex that might have plagued such historical figures as Napoleon. In fact, if anything, our heroine might well be one of the most solidly-composed individuals this old man has been so humbly fortunate to have crossed paths with. By the end of the time that she spent studying under my tutelage, it was clear she would surpass any of her instructors (most easily of those being myself). I have no doubt that, should she read these passages, she will deny and possibly scold this old man for having written such words, but I cannot in good conscience write anything less than such truth.
Now, it is unnecessary to describe many events that transgressed, for in truth just as my memory cannot reconstruct a lot of these aforementioned events, I have an even more difficult time recalling other elements that are not critical to this story. Let us summarize events in this cohesive and poorly-crafted method. Our heroine was being courted for some time by an individual whose qualities did not coincide very well with her own. This is not to speak ill of other souls whose spirits are undoubtedly valuable in their own right. It is to say, they were ill-matched. It would be like saying you were trying to drink milk with orange juice. Both beverages are delicious to those who enjoy them, and separately are quite nutritious. However, combining the two is ill-advised. In doing so, you will cause the milk to curdle and experience a most unpleasant stomach ache. For a brief period in the temporal record, this old codger did spend time over meals and coffee, conversing with our young heroine, and in doing so -- did end this previously-mentioned courtship. This was a critical event, as it freed our heroine from this previous romantic entanglement. How can we have our heroine and hero dance, if they are with other partners? It is only rational.
Recall that by this time, that though both our heroine and hero had attended the same scholarly court -- our hero had departed the court for a distant kingdom. He was within no proximity of our heroine. Thus, though try as I might, I cannot envision this story without my limited involvement. The next important event in this tale is the creation of a most magical piece of artwork: we shall refer to it as The Wolf and the Wave. Our heroine, among her infinite talents, possesses great artistic craft. With her gift for constructing images from pigment and parchment, she gave to this humble soul an illustration of two things I hold most sacred. I think you can guess what they are based upon the name of the artwork. I received this gift in the month of June, as an incredibly generous item for my birthday. Wishing to display the amazing talents of our heroine for all the world to observe, I utilized the photolithic wonder known as a digital scanner, and transmuted a digital version of the Wolf and the Wave to the incorporeal realm of Facebook. In August of this same year (2009), our hero logged into Facebook and beheld the incredible illustration our heroine had devised. Spellbound, he summoned a chat window and sent me in no less than these approximate words:
"Wes, can you inform the young woman who created that artwork, just how incredibly gifted and talented she is?"
In receiving that message, I had one of the very very few clear moments of insight into the greater workings of the universe that I shall ever be so fortunate to have. Like a jolt of lightning to the brain, or perhaps pure insanity -- I realized something more powerful was occurring. Knowing full well the modest and humble approach in life that our hero has always taken, I replied:
"Dude, I won't do that for you. You can leave her a message yourself and tell her just how you feel!"
In that moment, I know the Divine had at least, for once, helped me make a correct decision in life. For his message and her reply upon my Facebook wall post would be the first exchange of words these two would have, despite their disparate locations in physical dimensions (spacial not temporal). From that moment, life would never be the same for them, for myself, and for those around them. What would ensue in the months to follow between August and close to the end of October, would be the sort of amazing turmoil that only they could truly convey. I, having only hearsay and secondhand observation, cannot in good conscience attempt to capture even a shadow on the wall that would do justice to what they and those who loved them both, endured as they would dance around one another. Our hero and heroine are two most radiant and amazing souls, with very diverse backgrounds consisting of composite variables that made communication a most problematic and complicated procedure. They began by constructing a very rapid and deep friendship due to their many many shared passions and interests in life. But, as such deeply intense connections can do, this also gave rise to what appeared to be an insurmountable chasm between their very souls. Had you stood beside them, at times, during the months leading up to the next important aspect of this tale -- you would have quite likely been required to seek refuge in an asylum. For, these two souls so enhanced and amplified one another, it was as though one were not staring at one, but two suns going supernova, so bright were they shining.
I do not wish to focus upon these months, as I do believe I have conveyed already to the best of my ability, what transgressed.
Let us move forward to the next great event, which heretofore shall be referred to as The Great Trial, or The Forge, for it tempered their connection and brought to the surface what all those blessed to know them now gather close to bask in the radiance of. It was late November, and is the tradition -- it was Thanksgiving time. I do not know all the details, but from my poor and limited comprehension, our hero accompanied our heroine down to the court of her mother to share this holiday with them. It was during this journey and intimate time that they finally accepted their affection for one another. However, our heroine's mother discovered their affection. Unfortunate to the tale of our two protagonists, our heroine's mother does not approve of our hero (for reasons that I am unable to comprehend). Let it be said that I have here in my records something suggesting an unfortunate personal experience for the maternal ward of our heroine, and therefore I am led to believe that our heroine's mother acted out of instinct -- believing herself to be protecting her child. What transgressed was this: our heroine's mother cast our hero out of her court and forced him to journey many hundreds of leagues back to his residence, alone. I was myself residing in my city of origin, at the time, when I received a crystal ball transmission from our hero while he was traveling by mass coach back to his realm. Our most distraught hero, broken to the bone, wept of his most desperate anguish and shame for having caused any turmoil between our heroine and her mother. Having experienced for a brief moment, true love, our hero was understandably torn asunder. However, true to his nature as the most gallant soul that he is, our hero swore to me that he would never trouble our heroine again. He refused to be a source of pain or conflict for anyone, much less someone he was so utterly and completely devoted to. I, in sagely old age, did my best to console our hero and told him to contact me once more upon his imminent arrival at his domicile.
Hours would pass before I heard from our hero once more.
When at last I did receive another crystal ball communication, our hero's mood had altered. He was no longer the wraith of a man whose soul had been banished to Hell. Nay, instead our hero was as an elated spirit whose victorious achievement of his quest had brought him not only glory, but the favor of the woman he worshiped. Thus, it was, that our hero conveyed to me the determination with which our heroine had informed him via her own crystal ball, that he would be in real trouble, if he tried to never speak or see her again. To attempt to quote our heroine:
"You can run to the ends of the earth and hide in the deepest hole, and I will still find you and drag you back (chained if I must) to be with me. There is no way in Heaven or Hell I'm going to lose what we have!"
And rightly so, I must say. It was our heroine's determination that gave these two amazing people the strength to commit to their love. Not only has their true love survived any test thrown upon it by obstacles external or internal. It has grown and flourished, as those around them have been so fortunate as to witness. Thus it was that love triumphed over communication and disparate distance and experience. With each passing day, our hero discovered himself anew through the eyes of his beloved, and our heroine grew too. Not in stature (for such a feat is not possible, not even for our amazing heroine). Nay, she grew in talent, and determination.
And last weekend, on the same day I dug up the Wolf and the Wave, and went to the art store to have it framed and permanently displayed proudly upon my wall -- our heroine and hero became engaged to marry. I do not think I can recall too many other moments when I have heard the angels in Heaven sing with more happiness than upon this occasion. Few are such moments when such amazing and true love are seen.
I would like to end this piece with a simple expression of my gratitude to both our protagonists for allowing me to retain their friendship -- for great and immense is the honor to this humble scribe to have such amazing companions.
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