Expect nothing, he said, his advice reminding me of something friends from before would say about keeping a positive attitude: 'Have zero expectations, and then you'll never be disappointed.' It rung true, especially in this scenario, where we were discussing approaching a being that was responsible for enacting great change on the lands and its inhabitants. Expect nothing, and be grateful if nothing was all you got: Jigano had mentioned curses as well as blessings being bestowed by these gods, which gave me further reason hesitate, to pause and reflect on the knowledge I had, to ignore my curiosity, my desire, my inherent human need to know, to improve, to dig deeper, before taking the leap, the plunge, into the unknown.
Patience is the next thing he schools me on, and I nod in understanding; yes, I will bide my time, I will prepare, though for what exactly I am still not sure, and how exactly is still unclear. I will practice patience however, and as I do, I will gain clarity on this and more. It wasn't going to be easy, but then, most things worth doing weren't easy.
Why did I want to meet a god? Did I seek their favour, their gifts or blessings? Or was I just curious, did I just want to dissect them, like a scientist might, to learn about their inner workings? Did I want to observe them from afar, see them work their wonder without being directly affected? That is probably the scientist's dream, the pinnacle of achievement, but somehow I didn't get the impression that they would oblige - if they were truly all-knowing, they would know I was there, they would know my desires, and thus the observation would be tainted before it even began.
I could just imagine the title of my scientific paper; Field experiments on gods: omnipotent vs mortal predilections
"Thank you," I say to the hound, "for having patience with me. It is much appreciated." Gratitude hums through the bond, the concept of sharing emotions this way still new and surprising to me. But I was an honest fellow, and while I felt exposed by my emotions, I also hoped that I had little to fear when it came to exposing that part of myself. It motivated me to learn to control them better, at least, to assess and only permit those which I want shared to go forth - I am sure as I spend more time away from my human form, practising this shift (or others?), I would make many more blunders and mishaps, all of which I would learn from in time and practice.
"I would like to learn more, if you would have me," I comment, before posing another question, though I understand if he is done with this interaction, wanting to move on to more interesting tasks, to return to work or leisure or otherwise extract himself away from here. "Your home," I begin, "what is it like?"
Patience is the next thing he schools me on, and I nod in understanding; yes, I will bide my time, I will prepare, though for what exactly I am still not sure, and how exactly is still unclear. I will practice patience however, and as I do, I will gain clarity on this and more. It wasn't going to be easy, but then, most things worth doing weren't easy.
Why did I want to meet a god? Did I seek their favour, their gifts or blessings? Or was I just curious, did I just want to dissect them, like a scientist might, to learn about their inner workings? Did I want to observe them from afar, see them work their wonder without being directly affected? That is probably the scientist's dream, the pinnacle of achievement, but somehow I didn't get the impression that they would oblige - if they were truly all-knowing, they would know I was there, they would know my desires, and thus the observation would be tainted before it even began.
I could just imagine the title of my scientific paper; Field experiments on gods: omnipotent vs mortal predilections
"Thank you," I say to the hound, "for having patience with me. It is much appreciated." Gratitude hums through the bond, the concept of sharing emotions this way still new and surprising to me. But I was an honest fellow, and while I felt exposed by my emotions, I also hoped that I had little to fear when it came to exposing that part of myself. It motivated me to learn to control them better, at least, to assess and only permit those which I want shared to go forth - I am sure as I spend more time away from my human form, practising this shift (or others?), I would make many more blunders and mishaps, all of which I would learn from in time and practice.
"I would like to learn more, if you would have me," I comment, before posing another question, though I understand if he is done with this interaction, wanting to move on to more interesting tasks, to return to work or leisure or otherwise extract himself away from here. "Your home," I begin, "what is it like?"
Chulane
fridooh & whimzi @ deviantart
