Be One
On New Beginnings
Be one, my friend.
We know. We see you seeing us through new eyes. Life has changed you. And you no longer feel like the man you once were.
We remember him. We loved him. We see him in you. We always hoped he could become something more. And he has.
Only we don’t know the man he has become. We don’t know his ways.
So introduce us! Tell us his story. Tell us your story. Make it yours, and know that this is what we want — for you to be all the way imperfectly you.
We hope you’ll forgive us. For although we try, we will at times forget you remembering him. It is only that we loved him, and we sometimes miss him. You have already him let go. We are still letting him go. Have faith in us though. We’ll get there.
And when we do how we’ll celebrate you! How could we not but fill a cup with kindness at this? The outflowing of you. The wonder of your becoming. We’ll greet you as a new mother her newborn.
So be one with the one you have become, my friend. Embrace the you that is new, in all that you do. Come on out. We are waiting for you, to be one.
I hope my letter finds you well this day, friend. And that you won’t mind my appending to it a note of a more personal nature.
Last week I wrote to you of Charon at the Gate, who appears at the crossing between life and death. Between garden and wasteland. I wrote this not only to you, friend, but also to myself: as a self-calling to the crossing I know I must dare.
Three years ago, my story took an important turn. I had been living inside a dead dream, and was not well. After years I finally resolved: the change was worth the pain. I quit video games.
For months I frenzied myself to become too busy for them. And it worked. My life filled with new goods. I started reading again. I learned to dance. I met a girl. And as time went on, I let the old dream die and made myself into a new man.
I have become content as him. Successful. Social. But now something has shifted. And I glimpse a far shore on which some part of me was left behind.
It might be play. It might be brotherhood. It might be two dozen years of my life dying to become part of me. I am not yet all the way sure.
But when I look across to that place — to that far shore — I don’t see a dead dream. I see a little boy dusty and discarded, abandoned, and aching to be brought home.
So we cross.
The adventure begins with parallel explorations of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, and Tears of the Kingdom. I have touched on both in days forgotten. But neither have I brought into me full. I believe there is something there to inhabit. And I have a hunch that each has something to say about the other.
The play may be watched live on Twitch. Past plays are best-found on YouTube. For a taste, please enjoy this short clip from Saturday’s stream: “I was looking for my Zelda”.
This week we entered new territory by writing some original fiction in tribute to Gene Wolfe, a man who changed how I read. “Words Unsaid” is my synthesis of his short story “The Island of Dr. Death and Other Stories”.
To conclude the week, I published an old walk filmed just after my move from city to suburb: “Soft Reset”. It features the nature reserve I now abut, and reflects on how the teacher’s robes never seemed to fit me.
Tomorrow I will spend the day singing, before leaving town to join with my wife visiting family out of state. It’s set to be a rejuvenating and restful time. Cards to be played. Rumination and quiet nights. It will make a light week for The Quiet Ascent. And we will see what the distance brings.
Till next week then, god bless.
-Greg