“If you speak your truth, you’ll find your tribe.”
The shadows of the night revealed themselves as the full moon brought them forth. The blades of grass were swept back by the icy wind that danced it’s way around the forest. As the bards sung their songs in starlit bars and the drunken whores made their way to steal from oblivious men, I stayed at home, content with my books and hotchocolate.
Tribalism. The beliefs and acts of a tribe of people, gathered together for a purpose. The philosophy behind a group’s existence.
Subcultures formed out of a collective interest in a subject. Music, art, guns, sex, religion. All tastes belonging to humankind, displayed in the dark, so the purifying light of the sun cannot see them do it.
In this strange world I now found myself in, with people screaming and scared to leave their homes, I wonder about my place in it all. All roads are suppose to lead to Rome, with Rome being the revelation of one’s life, one’s purpose.
I ponder and wonder about the road I walk. This path of midnight under a full moon and a black sky. Echoes of wisdom past whisper around me, but I shrug them off. Words and phrases I’ve heard a thousand times, as if they were to be repeated until I could recite them by heart.
The dark storm that surrounded the land ate at my heart, little by little, until I saw that beast and dispelled it.
Chaos only brings about change. Isfet, the manifestation of evil, would only bring about the end.
I had been around evil before. Sadistic members of our society cast from the heavens to placate the drug of moral superiority of justice and righteousness. Soon, however, the drug took it’s hold on the most high and false fears became real and so did the screams.
The innocent people of the world turned into ghouls and monsters overnight and the crusades began. Monsters lurked in every corner. No stone was left unturned and the world turned into a schizophrenic’s paradise.
Wisdom once again returned to my ears, to echo long forgotten memories of the past. I shook my head, not wanting to relive what now seemed to be an alternate history.
But I found no solace in denial and the words of wisdom spoke and I found myself whisked away, infatuated with the siren of memory and her entrancing song.
“The gods make us go through hardships to prove, not only to them, but to ourselves that we are strong enough to handle them.”
Sliding into despair and self-deceiving malice would not be productive, I told myself. Accepting the wisdom of words told me a long time ago, I resumed my mental wandering, my attemptto understand the universe.
“If you speak your truth, you’ll find your tribe.”
Tribe. A group of people intrinsically linked to you, through blood or bond.
And so, in my mental wanderings, I asked myself: “Where is my tribe?”
I realized that I hadn’t spoken my truth. Everytime I tried to do so in the past, I stumbled, unsure of myself and the fear of friends fading if they knew the truth. Thus my fear of loneliness became manifest and the cycle of fear began again.
And so, howling like the wolf lost in the forest, I spoke to the void that I felt inside my heart for so long:
“The Truth: The dark night that I have found myself wandering in is not what is really there. The moon was hidden by the clouds and I was too afraid to notice. The night is where I call home. Visited by people serving gods not my own, people who think they are monsters of the night, those attracted to dark beauty and gothic revelations. The gods are ever present. Sitting under moonlight, lyres playing song of long lost romance and heroic legends. Heka exist, as it is has always been. Technology is used to perform heka by calling forth from the soul and manifesting it onto the physical plane.
Does anyone else share this same truth? Or something similar?
Tribe: Finding the Soul
JVN