The Account of a Lifetime

January 7, 2012

Our Destiny Is In The Stars

“Our lives are important — at least to us — and as we see, so we learn… Our destiny is in the stars, so let’s go and search for it.”
– The (First) Doctor

It’s a new year and a new dawn. And all that jazz. I’m a slow reader, I wonder if it’s the eye-muscles being silly buggers. I’d been warned they’re weak, it’d be bloody annoying if my hands fall off.

Nevertheless. Life’s good. Quiet, but good. I was gifted a wonderful tea caddy and some tea for Christmas, it’s proving to be delicious. I’ve also bought an unholy amount of books for my new eReader, it’s somewhat consuming my life. I’ve also bought a big pile of Dark Eldar to get making and have made significant progress with my Harlequin Troupe, in which I aim high by depicting them coloured for The Dance Without End. See:

Who's your favourite god?

The Dance Without End - Partially Completed

To A Point

This is, of course, somewhat away from that which I wish to discuss. I’ve been reading a lot, but my progress is slow and my creativity is reduced to an absolute minimum. At work I’ve waxed lyrical on some topics, espousing some more outré views of mine, though even then they’re largely rehashed from previous thoughts over the years.

To put it lightly: I suspect I’m in a stagnant mire. But it’s comfortable too, which is deeply irritating! I feel this ‘break’ from any sort of creativity or intellectual challenge (except ‘solving’ the work rota for the remainder of the month in a few minutes by interrupting an otherwise interesting discussion) is, hopefully, akin to my ‘summer of heresy’ back in 2007: a precursor to some productive or highly active period.

It’s difficult to plan for, especially as planning might well undermine any hope of it occurring properly, but that’s worrying about impossible-to-know branches in possible outcomes. I should constrain myself. Speaking of which, it’s high-time I started reacquainting myself with stoic philosophy. I’ve long dreamt of renaming this blog “Sceptic, Cynic, Stoic”, but being insufficiently critical in my outlook, over-actively optimistic and cheerful and generally a little too flappable, I’m not entirely convinced with going for it just yet. One day, perhaps. Maybe at least as a blog.

The First Days of Apostasy

When I was a not-apostate, e.g. a creed-bothering Catholic, I was quite confident in the unstated rigours of my belief, my morality. I felt I was forthright, though to almost everyone else I fear I surely must’ve come across as an obstinate pillock. When I came to the summer of ’07, it became clear that I was abandoning my superstition and how I framed my worldview, not the actual, functional particulars of the ethical system I operated within. I knew they’d be open to change, but I promised myself I’d eventually formalise them and come up with my own…secular creed.

I never did.

I coasted for a while at the end of ’07. I say coasted, if you flip back in the blog to [url=https://xisor.wordpress.com/2010/01/07/spectre-of-the-past-part-iv-2007-july-december/]Spectre of the Past IV[/ur], you’ll see how much ‘coasting’ was done. It’s an odd place to have been, but it was also perhaps the happiest time of my life, certainly the longest-most-happy period. Quite remarkable. Leaping from event to event, encounter to encounter and new friendship to new friendship, it was a highly memorable adventure. I’m exceedingly happy that I documented it.

Nevertheless, it was followed by a magnificent plateau and an eventual decline, eventually followed by the long, dark night that’s been enduring since then. Of course, as Aaron Dembski-Bowden has Argel-Tal note in The First Heretic:

‘Of course it worries me. If we are on the precipice of enlightenment, why have I never felt so blind?’
‘Everything is darkest,’ Xaphen mused, ‘before the dawn.’
‘That, my brother, is an axiom that sounds immensely profound until you realise it’s a lie.’

Yes, the darkest of night was a long time ago, it’s surely alright to invite dawn now? Well, dawn’s coming regardless…if the analogy holds. Which, realistically, it has precisely no business in doing.

As much delight as has been entertained in the last four years, I can’t help but think that the future’s a little brighter, even if only on the horizon. Perhaps I’ll flee from the oncoming terminator. Almost certainly it’s a temptation, but I’d like to stand stoically before it. To do that, however, I’ll need to get reading. And thinking. And perhaps, just perhaps, writing.

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