Decision

originally posted September 17, 2006

The closer the walls of Ar loom, the more I realize just how hard it is to come home. I realized just recently that I have spent as much of my life away from home as I have within the gates of Ar. That is nothing unusual. The men of my Caste are often vagabonds. We search for the perfect song and, if not that, a sublime verse or profound turn of phrase. We do not assume it might be found only within the place of our origin. We are willing to leave the comfort of the nest to find it, to allow ourselves to be inspired by the world around us. Ar is beautiful. Ar is glorious. I know this because I have seen the world. Unlike the uninformed sycophant, the biased patriot, I can say this proudly with not only my heart, but my mind. Though I have not seen the whole of the world, I think that I have seen more than most and my opinion is at least informed, if not of greater veracity than most others. Who among you reading this has seen the peaks of the Eastern Thentis Mountains at dawn? Who among you knows the vile stench of vart guano that permeates the air and the very fabric of the curtains in hated Cos? Have you walked the polished stones on the main thoroughfare through indulgent Turia? Who can claim having the sweet scent of spice and the salt of the sea mingled in their nostrils as they washed ashore into the Port of Schendi? I have seen these places and many more and still...I have not seen the world. I have shared the kettles of wagon people, peasants and an Ubar. Still, my wanderlust is not sated. In just one hundred pasangs, I will march my chattel through the great gate of Ar, six of them shackled at the wrist, all of them weighted down with the packs of our journey. I will paint the door of Samsara green, after washing the pitch clean and disposing of the branches of the brak bush. The Boarding House in the Anbar, too, will have her door washed and repainted. My life as a domiciled citizen of the greatest city of the world will continue. I have plans, many of which have already been put into motion. Some of which have yet to be finalized. In the city of Venna, I have planted saplings that will soon sprout fruit, tended by the gardeners of Vesutto himself. In the city of Ar, I have beautifully matured blossoms that continue to flower colorfully. How will I display them? Will I plant them in pots and place them safely on shelves? Will I uproot them again and challenge them to grow in new places, in new ways? Will I simply ease them into familiar soil, nurturing them to established hues and the lovely miens the men of Ar have come to expect? Or will I lift them to the cool, evening breezes the Fulvian foothills send rushing down into the avenues and wide streets of my city each night, scattering their petals to the winds?