Posted by Gobnait on July 3, 2000 at 16:55:50:
In Reply to: The Travelling Man (story... posted as an IC note a while back) posted by Ingvar Vittfaren(VIP) on June 22, 2000 at 01:52:23:
> (Ingvar's name is a historical one... it came from a Viking and the last name meant something like "Far-Travelled". The story was intended to be an allegory about Ingvar's early life, and discovery of the Cult/Cyradia.) > A travelling man walked along a mountain road not long ago. He was quite far from the maddening crowds of society, and began to fear that the afternoon light would not last much longer, yet he had seen no inn since the morning. Others from his society, though they did not travel much themselves, had told him that they knew the darkness was not safe, and that he should seek shelter from it. Indeed, he realized that he had not seen so much as one other soul as he walked along the path he chose for himself, and he was not sure what to make of the feeling of being utterly alone, with not a guide in sight to point the way. Until this day, others had always been about to look after him, and tell him where to walk. But he knew now that his destination lay ahead, and to walk along the way that he came from would accomplish nothing, for he already saw what was there. > In time, he came upon a simple shack. But his eye barely strayed to it, for he was drawn to the wondrous stone carvings that were on all sides. As he stood and surveyed the scene, he knew that another must be near, for how could such complex, varied forms spring from nature alone? Surely, the travelling man thought, a designer of sorts must live in such a place. > Then, he was aware that another stood beside him. As it was now late, the sun was low in the sky, and the one who was near stood in darkness. The travelling man heard a woman's voice, which seemed to resonate from all sides, and said "You wish to know how I craft such beautiful things from stone, young traveler?" > The travelling man, stunned by this development, barely managed to communicate his agreement. > The voice continued, "One may occasionally stumble onto a stone which naturally has a form worth appreciating, but most are merely raw material. My calling, as a sculptor, is not to see the raw material, but rather what it could become in my hands." > The travelling man nodded, and added "Surely there is more to it, for there are many who hang a sculptor's sign above their door, but none have your skill." > "Many who would try this trade fail because they do the opposite of what I do, travelling man," the voice continued, "Many others have a sculpture in mind, then grab the first piece of raw material they can find, and try to push it to the form they want. I merely look upon the stone, focus until I can clearly see its unique essence, and decide what form it wants for itself." > A sense of confidence flowed over the travelling man with these words, as he realized that he too could do such, now that the technique had been revealed to his eyes. Hoping to be guided further, he persisted: "How does that vision become reality? Mere thoughts cannot change a stone." > In a lower tone, the voice came forth again. This time, the figure in the shadows seemed much closer, though he was not sure who had moved towards whom. Ringing in his mind, as if from nowhere and everywhere at once, the voice continued: "Once I have seen what the raw material desires, I simply destroy what does not please me. Be it hammer and chisel, or a slow abrasion, I carve away what is not part of what should be. In time, all that stands is the pure form of the sculpture, no longer obscured by the worthless parts, crumbled at my feet." > "I create, as I destroy." > As the meaning of the words pierced the travelling man, he sensed that the clearing around him grew dark, yet somehow he saw with perfect clarity. As he swept his gaze about, he saw he was utterly alone: no shadowy figure, and no sculptures, only the path ahead that he would take.