Legends of Belariath

The Quest of Festivals Common

Katt - Celebrating the Lonesome Path

Celebrating the Lonesome Path I come from a place far from the cities of Man, and from most civilized abodes. Where I come from, people live by themselves and see one another only rarely. Preferring, instead, to live life as a journey they walk alone and therefore find answers to their unspoken questions through trials of victory and defeat. One could think that such a setting would do little to help the individual through life. That so little contact might unbalance or severely limit any given person in the whole, But it is not so. In the Groves, we all live alone yet we know too that we never truly are. All paths meet, and all things are one. Alone, we walk and alone we are -- even amongst other folk, in their cities or in their hearths. We are naught but by ourselves, like the rogue wolf -- sharp of eye, ragged of ear. "Remember, child..." My father told me. And I did.

Often, it wasn't easy and oftentimes I wanted to just give up and walk away from everything. Yet, I knew I could never walk away from myself. Therefore, I could never walk away from those people whose lives meet mine on our communal journey towards infinity. These are the celebrations my people hold -- those who live in the westernmost edges of the great forest, in what we call The Grove. Our home. He taught them to me, as they are taught to all my people.

Omera Hammanae My father said that I should take the time to know why I feel burdened, why I may be morose -- or even depressed. I remember his words. They were... On an auspicious night when the sky lowers its soft mantle to dress and wrap thy shoulders in sweet lament, remember always those who have passed before you. Each trail bears a memory -- a testament of historicity. All things have been before even you. But a part of the story, are you. On such a night, when the heart weighs too heavily 'pon the soul, part from all apparel that may weigh you down further. Part, too, from company -- for this is your time, and yours alone. Water. pristine and pure, quenching of thirst and invigorating to the whetted spirit. Seek thee a crystalline source and thereby scatter the vestments of life. To your knees, on earthen ground -- be it moss, be it stone, be it grassy field. Raise your voice in song that the stars may hear your plea. Sing for yourself, too -- for you cannot tell a tale if you know it not for yourself, first and foremost. Sing of pain, sing of duress -- allow your heart to speak what needs be said. They shall hear: stars, moons, astral elements. The animals listen, too -- and so you must sing to them. To all things that might hear, even the dead souls who might abode nearby -- the first tellers of all tales. And as you sing, child of life, to the waters must you put your hand, and cup a cusp filled with the coolness of its sweetness. Sing, child, and cleanse thyself with pristine glitters from fallen stars into this pool gathered. They will hear, they will lift your spirit. Give them tribute, in return. For them, you must shed a tear -- true and felt, and into the body of water from which you have taken. All things flow like water, and all things must return to a source so that others may sing Omera Hammanae. Only then can the whole listen to you pray. And so I did.

Mialla Nim Namma Any journey will eventually wear the traveler down. Life is no different. Sometimes, we need to remember why we walk a path and where we've been through all the trails we dared. This helps us to find perspective and meaning again. He said this to me: The trail is long, and the crossroads are many. Rest from your journey and take time to remember where you have been. All trails lead to the same place -- all places stem from the same paths. Your path. That which has led you here. When the road grows long and your soul bears a hefty toll from travail and toil, pause on your way and find yourself a secret place wherein you may rest and remember. A place that brings you peace, of mind and of body. Here, you must speak of your voyage -- speak of the trails you have dared and chanced and of what they have borne to you in your travels. Speak to the roads and to the destinations -- for their people, for their silence or for their solitude. To them, tell your tale. They will listen -- they can hear you even now, child. Recall the dust and recall the weather -- all things are from dust and from the wills of the winds. All life stems from the meeting of these things, and their moments paused to make things be. You are a child of dust, a child of the wind. So too are we all children of the same -- and, so too are we all travelers down this path you walk for life. So share of yourself with us all, with your voice and with your thoughts. That all things be made whole and fall into place. That all things remember your path and that you remember theirs. You are never alone thus, child. You shall always find someone who shall listen to your voice raised thus for the tale you shall share. For we have walked this path before, and we have sung -- and we have cried, for loneliness when the journey bears a burden too heavy to carry. So I did.

Cantala Am Sanna Sometimes we meet up with things we didn't wish to come across. we can't always know when the people we meet or the places we go will be friendly or not. Sometimes, we see paths beaten down by war, by famine, and by many other things that might unsettle us. In such times, my father told me to pay homage to the land -- at least, that land will have something from my passing where before it was emptied. There is no peace in this world, child. There is nowhere without turmoil and conflict -- be they within, or without. As you walk alone, and as you are never left alone, take time to gather meaning of the burdens you bear. Find you a place dry or barren. Find you a place where turmoil weighed down too heavily for it to ever be the same. Find you such a place, and there take camp for one night. In the silence of the land, save for the song of the wind and the whispers of the dead, make yourself a home for this passing moment. All your belongings, you must display -- however meager, or however rich -- only what it is you carry with you, child. These things, spread about yourself in a circle -- testament of what you have gained. Each is a memory, be it of travail or be it leisure. Fill the void left behind with these things empowered by your story, child. Then, to each speak a name only you may know. To each, speak a word of what they brought to you -- be they tool, be they comfort or hard-earned treasure. For whatever they may be, they bring with them part of your journey. This place, denied peace, like an empty well will take in what within you may bring. Thus will it gain part of your history. Thus will it take in part of you that you have shared so willingly. You need not all that you own, child. This place is neither owned nor does it own anything. To it, give a small token so that it may regain some of its past luster. Bury your more precious thing -- but no thing that had once been alive. For death does not require a token of death to fill its void. With your treasure, leave behind your own burden, child. Leave behind what turmoil's gnawed at the back of your mind and on your heart. All things are one, and your memories will pass from you to the scape. Thus will you find your peace, to lay at rest and to give back to what has nothing. What is a bauble to you is riches to one who has nothing for its own. This you will do no more than once a winter, when death blooms and peace settles over the sleeping world. So I did.

Catalla Innae There are things you can't celebrate alone. Things of the heart, and of the spirit. Sometimes, you come across another whom you feel drawn to. And you must take a rest from the Lonesome Path to walk hand in hand with another. This is how my father told me it should be done, as all my people do: There will be times when you cannot walk alone in life, in your journey. Indeed, there will be times when you shall feel your heart calls you unto others. Mayhap to special ones that have found ways to stir your soul and sway your heart. When this would visit upon you, take time to put your own musings aside and prepare yourself to learn to be with these others. You must find a place you and your companion(s) feel a certain affinity for. A place where you feel at ease and at peace. Here, you shall dispense of your clothing that all whom you would share life with may see you without apparel, and you them without theirs. That all may gaze upon truth without veil. You shall either stand face to face, or form a circle if there are many. Each, in turn -- and beginning with you, child -- shall speak their names and offer a few words of whom they are to the others. A presentation of their inner self, and of yours. That you would know them as they would know you. When this is done, you shall all seat thyselves or kneel as you feel most appropriate. You shall spread your hands, palms up, and lift your voices in song. No words need be sang, child -- only the musics of the soul. As one, you shall forma chorus that may thus call to the All and unite you as one, for this time you spend together. When you so meet people of deep interest to you -- be it friendship, love, or lust -- you shall do this with them that all may hear your voices sing of yourselves, as one and that your journey may be paused, as you step into theirs. So I did.

Mali Fianna Sometimes, we find that we must sever our ties with another person. When we come to realize -- if ever -- that things cannot continue as they are. That we must provoke change, so that the parting may be done without regret nor spite. When we have to remove ourselves from people we might have cared for. This was hard for me to understand, but my father explained it well: There will be times when you shall find that the company of certain or few might no longer accommodate you. That this might wear you down, or them -- as you so judge it be. This is akin to the Catalla Inae, save that it is a celebration of parting. This is your decision, and you must accept the consequences child. When such a time might come upon you that you feel a great need to sever ties with companions you have traveled with, you must first begin by brewing a tea for them -- seek them out, in silence, and prepare the herbs you best liked to drink in their company. A last offering to them, a last taste of the flavor you shared with them by your side. When they have all drank from their cups, you shall retrieve them and clean each with care, dutifully so. Take a time to tell a tale you have shared with them and offer a smile, even if your heart may not wish it over your lips. This way, you may not appear spiteful nor resentful of them. Should they not wish to come to you for that drink of tea, then you need but turn your back on them and walk off -- it cannot be helped. But you should lift your voice in sorrowful singing, that the All might yet hear your call and disarray from not parting as should be. Regardless, once it is done, you must turn your back to them. You must not speak another word, and you must be off and walk away. in this, they will see that your journey resumes and that they must resume theirs as well. When paths must part ways, do this and remember why we are all Lonesome in this Path. So I did.

Umbra Sianna Death is as much a part of life as living. It's a crossroads from this world to another. It's hard to loose those we love, but by mourning them and giving them proper funeral rites, we keep them close to our hearts and they us, in theirs. My father explained that to me this way: Life is a journey. Continuous and never-ending. Even when one passes from light and into shadow, another journey begins -- another chapter into the heart of the story. Some shall part ways at crossroads from you. Some shall pass from your story and into the next. Remember them, and pay homage to them that you might give them strength on their path and that they may remain with you on your own. To the departed, sing of life -- tell of what they accomplished in your journey. Recall to them all that they were to you and all that you were to them. With your words, with your thoughts -- construe for them a song which sings of all they have been. Find a quiet place of remembrance, child. Find a place wherein shadows accrue when the sun hides its light from the gracing skies. All things are one, child. Therefore, shadow and light are also one and the same. To bring to the light, you must cross through the shadows. And they hear. They will listen to your whispers and to your sorrow. We are all of dust and of wind, child -- all and together threads in the greater tapestry that is Life all-encompassing. In thus telling their tale, you bring light into the journey all walk within the Shadowlands. From this, child, you bear a torch to light the way even when it is so dark that no eyes can see. For when you remember them, you aid them in remembering themselves. Your memories will guide them, child. Your voice shall put wind to their sails. In turn, they too shall bear light into your darkness. So remember the departed, child. So that they too remember you and that you may walk into your journey by their side, and they in theirs at yours. And so I did when he past on a few weeks back. These are the rites and celebrations of the Lonesome Path -- the journey of those who walk alone. These are my crossroads in the path of life I walk. Timak, father-figure and teacher, taught these to me until the time I performed the Umbra Sianna in his memory. Through these rituals, celebrations and rites, we, the people of the Grove, carry on with our lives yet never truly walk alone. Katt

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