The vigil is where the real work takes place. Historically, the order of chivalry included a set of virtues that the knight was to uphold. The virtues and the vigil go hand in hand, for virtues are of little value without regular reflection upon them. Ramon Lull discourses on seven knightly virtues, "which are the beginning and rote of all good habits and are the path to celestial glory." Lull technically provides for eight, but he combines strength and chastity. Benjamin Franklin also developed his own set of 12 virtues (later 13 when he was informed that he might benefit from a bit of humility) as well as an approach to meditating on each of them for a week on a rotating basis in order to habitualize them.
The virtues below are a series of nine meditations that I have chosen to represent the knightly labyrinth. Although each is defined separately, they are not isolated values, or even steps to be taken, one after another, until one reaches the pinnacle of the knightly ideal. Rather, they are a cyclical way of living. The vigil is an endless, interconnected spiral of incremental growth and tempering. The knight must pass through each of them many times in his journey, weaving a path of six attendant virtues around a blazon of three additional virtues representing the core of the self:
(Body Attendant) Humility ← Truthfulness (Heart) → Equanimity (Mind Attendant)
(Body Attendant) Sobriety ← Courage (Mind) → Non-Attachment (Heart Attendant)
(Heart Attendant) Serenity ← Action (Body) → Innocence (Mind Attendant)
(Body Attendant) Sobriety ← Courage (Mind) → Non-Attachment (Heart Attendant)
(Heart Attendant) Serenity ← Action (Body) → Innocence (Mind Attendant)
From the moment one first sets foot on this path, there is nothing that is not part of the vigil.
Serenity
Serenity is present when there is a cessation of judgment. Judgment arises from thinking that I know how things are supposed to be and comparing my experience to that knowing. Judgment spawns anger and resentment when individuals or things depart from how things should be. Such unrest can be a brief flash of destructive force or an underlying, simmering frustration that causes me to constantly seek perfection and fix perceived flaws in its unfolding. When I fail, my anger turns itself on my own apparent imperfections and prevents me taking action from a place of true peace. Judging splits the Self into the judging self and the judged self, and I am no longer one. In this place of judgment, I exhaust myself trying to direct and control the unfolding of reality, and I can be of no use to anyone.
With serenity, I understand that I do not know the outcome of the Unfolding Reality; therefore, I cannot act from a place of knowing, only from a place that is open and receptive to what is, right now. There is no solid ground. The moment I believe I have found it, I am finished. The Unfolding is fluid, and everything is unfolding with perfection, just as it is. Whether I choose to do this or to do that, my participation in that unfolding is also perfection.
When I am at ease and allow life to simply flow through me without trying to control it, striving and effort vanish. Judgment vanishes. This does not mean that I ignore pain and suffering, only that I do not judge their source. It does not mean that I do not act, only that I work from this moment with openness and acceptance, not just of others, but also myself. When I am at peace with my only certainty being that things will continue to unfold and that I am a part of that unfolding, I can support others with compassion and strength, and my serenity will be an island for those around me.
With serenity, I understand that I do not know the outcome of the Unfolding Reality; therefore, I cannot act from a place of knowing, only from a place that is open and receptive to what is, right now. There is no solid ground. The moment I believe I have found it, I am finished. The Unfolding is fluid, and everything is unfolding with perfection, just as it is. Whether I choose to do this or to do that, my participation in that unfolding is also perfection.
When I am at ease and allow life to simply flow through me without trying to control it, striving and effort vanish. Judgment vanishes. This does not mean that I ignore pain and suffering, only that I do not judge their source. It does not mean that I do not act, only that I work from this moment with openness and acceptance, not just of others, but also myself. When I am at peace with my only certainty being that things will continue to unfold and that I am a part of that unfolding, I can support others with compassion and strength, and my serenity will be an island for those around me.
. Serenity is my sword .
Sobriety
Sobriety is self-completion. There is nothing outside of me that I need to attain to be whole, fulfill my purpose, or make my life complete. When I feel an emptiness inside, I do not simply fill it with exciting experiences that create a false sense of abundance or cloud my mind with distractions to escape the hollowness. That emptiness is my call to live on purpose and with intent, so I listen carefully. Overindulgence is an outward seeking that intoxicates, dulling my mind and poisoning my connection to Self. I guard against habitual excesses that fill the void of time and temporarily banish the emptiness, for these are addictions that lead me away from the spirit’s call.
I find joy through my experiences, but in sobriety, I distinguish between the desperate longing of the ego for recognition and acceptance and the soul’s call to greatness. When I am clear and open, I know that physical reality and spiritual reality are not separate. I am connected to the world around me, and I understand every nuance as a perfection that brings its own contentment. I maintain my awareness of the present moment, in which all possibility is rooted and all future moments are born. At the same time, I am careful not to live in anticipation of future happiness, for that is also a loss of this moment. I can miss the magic only by waiting for it to begin.
Happiness is not, in fact, my goal. It is a treasure that I find in secret places along the way. Meaning is my goal, and it is something that grows from inside me in each moment. In sobriety, I do not need to seek my purpose out there. I am living it. My life is a gift. My journey is my pleasure. I do not know where I am going or how I will get there, but with each step, my heart grows more illuminated.
I find joy through my experiences, but in sobriety, I distinguish between the desperate longing of the ego for recognition and acceptance and the soul’s call to greatness. When I am clear and open, I know that physical reality and spiritual reality are not separate. I am connected to the world around me, and I understand every nuance as a perfection that brings its own contentment. I maintain my awareness of the present moment, in which all possibility is rooted and all future moments are born. At the same time, I am careful not to live in anticipation of future happiness, for that is also a loss of this moment. I can miss the magic only by waiting for it to begin.
Happiness is not, in fact, my goal. It is a treasure that I find in secret places along the way. Meaning is my goal, and it is something that grows from inside me in each moment. In sobriety, I do not need to seek my purpose out there. I am living it. My life is a gift. My journey is my pleasure. I do not know where I am going or how I will get there, but with each step, my heart grows more illuminated.
: Sobriety is my spurs :
Non-Attachment
Attachment is the gathering and protection of resources that I feel allow me to take on the world with confidence. While attachment is often perceived materially, it stems from a doubt in my ability and a desire to avoid suffering, so an adherence to particular values, ideas, and concepts as well as the seeking of knowledge and power are also forms of attachment. All of this swirls around the attempt to establish permanence. But permanence is nothing more than stagnation, stasis. It is not even death, which is merely the last recognizable state in a process of transformation. Attachment, in its quest for permanence, inhibits growth and transformation.
In non-attachment, I realize that I am of the nature to change. So too is everyone and everything around me. Bastions of virtue will not protect me as their foundations in society are ever shifting. Identifying with any one idea or any one aspect of myself is meaningless, because I will change. Any concepts I form to define or constrain life are, at best, illusions that can become a prison and, ultimately, a tomb. Differences are merely perceptions, attempts of my ego self to set itself apart. If I wish to experience the fullness of life, I cannot wall off a piece of it. I have to live its changes in order to harness its creative essence. Transformation, creation, requires letting go… of things, of events, of actions.
When I stop seeking permanency of self and see the transient nature of things, and boundaries become transparent. I also become transparent to the real Source, which is also the source of me. I am, in fact, a vessel for that Source. There is no separation. Like sight or touch, I am but one of its senses, and it knows itself through each of us. I hold onto nothing, but that means I also reject nothing. Thus, I come into true understanding and compassion, and that is where growth takes place. Non-attachment moves me from simply being into becoming. It is an adventure into the unknown that opens the doorways to infinite possibilities.
In non-attachment, I realize that I am of the nature to change. So too is everyone and everything around me. Bastions of virtue will not protect me as their foundations in society are ever shifting. Identifying with any one idea or any one aspect of myself is meaningless, because I will change. Any concepts I form to define or constrain life are, at best, illusions that can become a prison and, ultimately, a tomb. Differences are merely perceptions, attempts of my ego self to set itself apart. If I wish to experience the fullness of life, I cannot wall off a piece of it. I have to live its changes in order to harness its creative essence. Transformation, creation, requires letting go… of things, of events, of actions.
When I stop seeking permanency of self and see the transient nature of things, and boundaries become transparent. I also become transparent to the real Source, which is also the source of me. I am, in fact, a vessel for that Source. There is no separation. Like sight or touch, I am but one of its senses, and it knows itself through each of us. I hold onto nothing, but that means I also reject nothing. Thus, I come into true understanding and compassion, and that is where growth takes place. Non-attachment moves me from simply being into becoming. It is an adventure into the unknown that opens the doorways to infinite possibilities.
.: Non-attachment is my breastplate :.
Innocence
Innocence is found in simplicity and oneness and brings with it a natural vitality, freedom, and unselfconsciousness. Insecurity arises from the loss of innocence and an effort to intensify experiences and interactions to make them more “real.” This appetite for intensity born from the longing for aliveness is lust. Gripped by lust, I am controlled by my passions, whether they be positive or negative, and in turn seek to control everything else as I pursue them. I find myself confronted by obstacles that must be overcome and enemies that must be vanquished. Life becomes a battle to obtain the peace I am entitled to and bring to justice those who would interfere in obtaining it. Lust is the lowest manifestation of warrior-mind, which values greater strength and knowledge and leads ultimately to domination, control, and vengeance.
To find innocence, I must carefully look within, beneath the ideals and expectations taught to me and layered over my original Self. The first thing I see is that I carry light and shadow in equal amounts. Looking more closely still, I see that I actually have neither but that I have divided myself into these parts based on what I have learned to accept and reject. I find that I also carry within me all of my obstacles, for obstacles have meaning only in the face of desire and aversion. Light and shadow, acceptance and rejection, being and non-being are all perceived opposites that are really part of a single, enigmatic reality.
Once awakened to the notions of opposites, I understand the sole mechanism of opposition and do not need to leave strife to find peace. I begin to see that all things are merely facets of oneness. When I cease my striving to attain the reflected parts of the whole, the whole actually becomes available. In Oneness, I do not lose my experiences, but by not holding onto them, or valuing one over another, the Truth of a single reality is felt in my core. It is easy to get lost in the opposing parts. It is easy to view I and thou as separate beings. It is easy to think of mind, heart, and body as separate systems. When I return to innocence, the parts unite and I am in spirit. In innocence, I open, lose my fear, and become a source of empowerment and inspiration.
To find innocence, I must carefully look within, beneath the ideals and expectations taught to me and layered over my original Self. The first thing I see is that I carry light and shadow in equal amounts. Looking more closely still, I see that I actually have neither but that I have divided myself into these parts based on what I have learned to accept and reject. I find that I also carry within me all of my obstacles, for obstacles have meaning only in the face of desire and aversion. Light and shadow, acceptance and rejection, being and non-being are all perceived opposites that are really part of a single, enigmatic reality.
Once awakened to the notions of opposites, I understand the sole mechanism of opposition and do not need to leave strife to find peace. I begin to see that all things are merely facets of oneness. When I cease my striving to attain the reflected parts of the whole, the whole actually becomes available. In Oneness, I do not lose my experiences, but by not holding onto them, or valuing one over another, the Truth of a single reality is felt in my core. It is easy to get lost in the opposing parts. It is easy to view I and thou as separate beings. It is easy to think of mind, heart, and body as separate systems. When I return to innocence, the parts unite and I am in spirit. In innocence, I open, lose my fear, and become a source of empowerment and inspiration.
:: Innocence is my gauntlets ::
Humility
Humility is the ocean from which all water arises and to which all streams flow. It is the undifferentiated source from which I come. I become aware first of others. By the manner in which others treat me, I become aware of myself and develop a center. But that center is false because it is only a reflection of the opinions of others. It is not my own. It is theirs, built to serve them… society, and it is called ego. It seeks approval and recognition because those who gain such things are invested in and valued by society. All that those around me want of me is reflected onto me, and from that I build my identity. Even trying to break away from what society wants serves the ego because the breaking action is not an independent action but a response to their demands.
But I have another center, a true Center that stretches far beyond me yet to which I am connected simply by virtue of my existence. I cannot know it directly, for it is everywhere, and everywhere is beyond my comprehension. I have only my ego, an illusion. But even an illusion must have some root in the real; so, from there, from the smallest part of my being, must I begin. I must go through the illusion, through my ego. Only by taking a step from the narrow path I am already on can I move toward the greater I and a more expansive truth.
At some point on my journey, I will no longer know who I am or where I am going. I will be in chaos and I will be afraid. But that is as it should be, for I will finally be stepping out of my reflected self into endless possibility. In my confusion, the boundaries of what I think I know dissolve and the true Center comes into focus. But I cannot drop the ego, for if I am trying to drop it, I am still within it. I can only try to see it, watch it. Then, when it eventually falls without my having done anything, like a blossom from a tree as it fruits, my true Center arises. It may last only a moment, but it is in such moments that the greatest growth takes place.
This is humility… surrendering, moment by moment, to the greater I and simply being without concern for my worth or how I am perceived or what others are doing. When others may clash with me, but I clash with no one, I will have found my Center. When I can respond to another’s need without a thought for my personal gain, my will will be boundless. When I can act or not act because I know that that will is merely a part of the greater whole that is unfolding, I am free
But I have another center, a true Center that stretches far beyond me yet to which I am connected simply by virtue of my existence. I cannot know it directly, for it is everywhere, and everywhere is beyond my comprehension. I have only my ego, an illusion. But even an illusion must have some root in the real; so, from there, from the smallest part of my being, must I begin. I must go through the illusion, through my ego. Only by taking a step from the narrow path I am already on can I move toward the greater I and a more expansive truth.
At some point on my journey, I will no longer know who I am or where I am going. I will be in chaos and I will be afraid. But that is as it should be, for I will finally be stepping out of my reflected self into endless possibility. In my confusion, the boundaries of what I think I know dissolve and the true Center comes into focus. But I cannot drop the ego, for if I am trying to drop it, I am still within it. I can only try to see it, watch it. Then, when it eventually falls without my having done anything, like a blossom from a tree as it fruits, my true Center arises. It may last only a moment, but it is in such moments that the greatest growth takes place.
This is humility… surrendering, moment by moment, to the greater I and simply being without concern for my worth or how I am perceived or what others are doing. When others may clash with me, but I clash with no one, I will have found my Center. When I can respond to another’s need without a thought for my personal gain, my will will be boundless. When I can act or not act because I know that that will is merely a part of the greater whole that is unfolding, I am free
.:: Humility is my surcoat ::.
Equanimity
Equanimity means to establish stable footing. Always, the past and future tear at me… what I regret, what I long for, what I am proud of, what I fear. It is a tempest of emotion that swirls around a single point… that one moment in which I actually reside. The past is but an interpretation, the future an imagined story. Suffering arises through attachment to these interpretations and imaginings. When I am present in the now, my mind is calm. I cannot be moved or shaken. What others possess or have accomplished is of no consequence to who I am. What I have done has meaning only in that it brought me to this moment from which I can move forward with boundless potential. When I find my footing in this moment and experience emotions without being caught by them as they look forward or back, I become the eye, the calm center of the storm. It is in this place that true transformation happens. We all share this infinite moment. Through it we are all connected. This fraction of a second is all the truth there is. A tiny spark. But from even the smallest spark, a great fire can flare to life. When I reside in equanimity, there is nothing that I cannot turn into something of value, and I become a transformative flame for both myself and others.
::: Equanimity is my greaves :::
Truthfulness
Truthfulness lies in awakening to perceptions and not turning them into deceit. When I hear about a place, I have a concept of it. When I visit it, I have another concept of it. When I have lived there for a dozen years, I have yet another concept of it. None of those concepts is the whole Truth of that place. And yet the Truth encompasses all them because it was the Truth that gave rise to the experience that led to the formation of the concepts. Each of the concepts is true, but not to the exclusion of the others. Such is relative truth.
A ripple of water is a relative truth. The ripple has a beginning and an end. At the heart of the ripple is water. When the ripple passes, the water remains, without beginning or end. If it freezes, it becomes ice, yet it is still water. All its appearances and forms are merely appearances and forms. Such is the relationship between relative and absolute Truth. Both are true after a fashion, but I do not reside strictly in relative truth.
Suffering is also a relative truth. Suffering depends on perception and arises from things that are not suffering. Some people suffer in hot climates. Others enjoy the warmth. What is suffering to one may be enjoyable to another. The heat itself arises from the sun, which gives life, and is perhaps reflected from the rock of the earth, which is home to everything. These things are not suffering. That does not make the suffering not real. It makes suffering a part of the whole and something to go through in order to transform it.
Truthfulness is harder with myself. I wear many masks. One self is attached to my duties as a knight, one to my gender, one self I show to my friends, another is seen by strangers, and still another stares through my visor at a foe. Which is the real me? I am careful not to identify too fully with my mask-selves. They are a part of me, but when I get caught up in building and presenting these images, I become less authentic and move towards judgment and the realm of opposites. I may be rewarded by others for polishing certain selves, but that causes me to sacrifice my true nature for an assigned role. By being mindful of my changing selves, I develop compassion for others and become aware of the transforming nature of all things and the interconnectedness of all actions. I may not be able to comprehend the absolute Truth, but through mindfulness of its many facets, I begin to push aside differences and glimpse unity. This is Truthfulness, and with it, I live from my own center, treat others with authenticity and graciousness, and became a channel for the transformative forces around me.
A ripple of water is a relative truth. The ripple has a beginning and an end. At the heart of the ripple is water. When the ripple passes, the water remains, without beginning or end. If it freezes, it becomes ice, yet it is still water. All its appearances and forms are merely appearances and forms. Such is the relationship between relative and absolute Truth. Both are true after a fashion, but I do not reside strictly in relative truth.
Suffering is also a relative truth. Suffering depends on perception and arises from things that are not suffering. Some people suffer in hot climates. Others enjoy the warmth. What is suffering to one may be enjoyable to another. The heat itself arises from the sun, which gives life, and is perhaps reflected from the rock of the earth, which is home to everything. These things are not suffering. That does not make the suffering not real. It makes suffering a part of the whole and something to go through in order to transform it.
Truthfulness is harder with myself. I wear many masks. One self is attached to my duties as a knight, one to my gender, one self I show to my friends, another is seen by strangers, and still another stares through my visor at a foe. Which is the real me? I am careful not to identify too fully with my mask-selves. They are a part of me, but when I get caught up in building and presenting these images, I become less authentic and move towards judgment and the realm of opposites. I may be rewarded by others for polishing certain selves, but that causes me to sacrifice my true nature for an assigned role. By being mindful of my changing selves, I develop compassion for others and become aware of the transforming nature of all things and the interconnectedness of all actions. I may not be able to comprehend the absolute Truth, but through mindfulness of its many facets, I begin to push aside differences and glimpse unity. This is Truthfulness, and with it, I live from my own center, treat others with authenticity and graciousness, and became a channel for the transformative forces around me.
.::: Truthfulness is my helm :::.
Courage
Courage is often taken to mean acting in spite of fear, and that is true from the perspective of fear as a day-to-day survival mechanism. But, if I would move beyond survival, I need the courage that is the absence of fear, and first, I must understand fear. Fear is born in a particular place. I am not afraid of the blade I have just parried, because I have parried it, and I know how things turned out. I am still here. I am not even afraid of the cut I have received, but I may be afraid of the possibility of losing a limb or infection. When I am afraid, I am afraid of what will happen next. My fear is grounded in an imagined future formed either from expectations based on past experiences or complete uncertainty because I have no frame of reference from which to build an expectation. I must also be cautious that a lack of fear is not rooted simply in an expectation that the future will continue similar to a past that was pleasant.
When fear rises from my uncertainty of my fate, I may lay plans, amass resources, gather information to make predictions, and create a stable, secure environment. But in doing so, I still reside in fear, acting in an effort to prevent. The unfolding reality around me does not prevent. It only becomes. It does not stifle; it only creates. When I rely on plans and preparations to eliminate fear, a single, unexpected turn of events can defeat my strategy, dash my expectations, and cast me back into fear in the space of a heartbeat. When all of my preparations can be shattered and I do not despair, I will no longer be slave to fear, which arises only in the contemplation of that that which is not real.
To banish fear, I ground myself in the moment. When I see myself as part of the, real, unfolding now, I am held up by what is. I am unknowing without being unsupported. Certainty, like permanency, is a dead, non-becoming thing. In no-certainty there is vitality and infinite possibility. When I let go of the future and accept it as untamable, I become fearless and expansive, a channel for the Source of all things which knows no boundaries or limits, only infinite possibilities. Unattached to ideals, doubts, and established ways, I am able to respond freely to whatever emerges in the moment. And in that moment I step off the solid ground of Being and enter Becoming. This is the difference between fate and destiny.
When fear rises from my uncertainty of my fate, I may lay plans, amass resources, gather information to make predictions, and create a stable, secure environment. But in doing so, I still reside in fear, acting in an effort to prevent. The unfolding reality around me does not prevent. It only becomes. It does not stifle; it only creates. When I rely on plans and preparations to eliminate fear, a single, unexpected turn of events can defeat my strategy, dash my expectations, and cast me back into fear in the space of a heartbeat. When all of my preparations can be shattered and I do not despair, I will no longer be slave to fear, which arises only in the contemplation of that that which is not real.
To banish fear, I ground myself in the moment. When I see myself as part of the, real, unfolding now, I am held up by what is. I am unknowing without being unsupported. Certainty, like permanency, is a dead, non-becoming thing. In no-certainty there is vitality and infinite possibility. When I let go of the future and accept it as untamable, I become fearless and expansive, a channel for the Source of all things which knows no boundaries or limits, only infinite possibilities. Unattached to ideals, doubts, and established ways, I am able to respond freely to whatever emerges in the moment. And in that moment I step off the solid ground of Being and enter Becoming. This is the difference between fate and destiny.
:::: Courage is my shield ::::
Action
Action is not the same as activity. Activity is simply a state of being busy. Action comprises two states, doing and not-doing. It is planting a seed and letting it grow. It is playing a melody and letting it be heard and interpreted by the listener. It is creating and letting go.
The attempt to act without allowing the unfolding of the action becomes control and resistance to what that which is unfolding. Control and resistance arise from attachment to my notions of who I am and what my center is. They are a direct response to feeling adrift in the unfolding of reality without any form of support and lead to the development of routines, philosophies, and practices to defend against challenges to the unwavering ideals I have wrapped around my concept of center. Activity, in its busyness, leads to stagnation and non-being.
I may try to be easygoing and carefree with the hope that the forces at work in the unfolding world will simply flow around me and leave me be, but that is the activity of avoidance, not non-action. I may be superficially aware of the world around me and the others who move about in it believing that that makes me present, but if I lack the sharper attentiveness of true presence wherein I connect deeply with others, allowing them to be who they are, I am blind to the world and to myself, who is a part of that world. Engaged in such activity, I have nothing left for the deep inner work I must do if I want to encounter my True Self.
To be free of activity, I must surrender my familiar identity and touch the emptiness behind my ego. What is this emptiness? It is the lack of barriers, the lack of boundaries, the presence of endless possibility. It is understanding that I am made of the same stuff as Unfolding Reality. Fullness feels comfortable, familiar, but it also has no room for more. Right now, in this moment, I am. That is my support. I ground myself there and become an active participant in the unfolding of reality by accepting the transforming nature of everything, including myself, and letting action unfold from what feels natural to me. This is the higher meaning of both martial forms and dances. The form and the warrior are one. The dance and the dancer are one. Both the warrior and dancer simply do what they are, vanishing into the action. This is doing without doing. This is Action. This is the nature of my True Self.
The attempt to act without allowing the unfolding of the action becomes control and resistance to what that which is unfolding. Control and resistance arise from attachment to my notions of who I am and what my center is. They are a direct response to feeling adrift in the unfolding of reality without any form of support and lead to the development of routines, philosophies, and practices to defend against challenges to the unwavering ideals I have wrapped around my concept of center. Activity, in its busyness, leads to stagnation and non-being.
I may try to be easygoing and carefree with the hope that the forces at work in the unfolding world will simply flow around me and leave me be, but that is the activity of avoidance, not non-action. I may be superficially aware of the world around me and the others who move about in it believing that that makes me present, but if I lack the sharper attentiveness of true presence wherein I connect deeply with others, allowing them to be who they are, I am blind to the world and to myself, who is a part of that world. Engaged in such activity, I have nothing left for the deep inner work I must do if I want to encounter my True Self.
To be free of activity, I must surrender my familiar identity and touch the emptiness behind my ego. What is this emptiness? It is the lack of barriers, the lack of boundaries, the presence of endless possibility. It is understanding that I am made of the same stuff as Unfolding Reality. Fullness feels comfortable, familiar, but it also has no room for more. Right now, in this moment, I am. That is my support. I ground myself there and become an active participant in the unfolding of reality by accepting the transforming nature of everything, including myself, and letting action unfold from what feels natural to me. This is the higher meaning of both martial forms and dances. The form and the warrior are one. The dance and the dancer are one. Both the warrior and dancer simply do what they are, vanishing into the action. This is doing without doing. This is Action. This is the nature of my True Self.
.:::: Action is my spear ::::.
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There, at the end of the world, you are not ~Godfrey, "Kingdom of Heaven"
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