"Marking Your Steps"

Welcome to an insight, a life behind a simple young halfling who dared to be something more. Growing up on the underdeveloped streets of the Hamlet, there were many things left to be desired. The streets were dangerous, but in a way that most would not expect. Their very foundation was poorly constructed, with sharp stones and juts that would catch the unsuspected in the foot or overturn a fruit cart destined for the open market. Into these condition the young Thren was born.

He never despised the conditions, but learned to coup with them. The method of couping was to memorize the various perils each day, watching as new ones formed and the older ones smoothed through constant use. It became his task each day to pay attention to the changes. Often he could be seen walking up and down the streets mouthing numbers as if he was counting. Soon, this became his trademark as children teased, as often children do, the child whose head rarely lifted, forever downcast.

Little did they know, perhaps, that this wasn't just the case. You see, this child learned at an early age that to learn the streets as they were, and to watch the way in which they changed, freed him. As his peers played on those same streets, young Thren played his own games. Oft he would watch their games and wager the time it would take before one child or another would cut themselves on the sharp stones. Each time a child scuffed a knee or took a tumble over young Thren would comment, quietly "Pay attention".

The lesson had been furrowed into his head. The counting had turned to humming as he made a game of timing his movements over the many obstacles, both old and new. It was like a dance as gracefully performed as his short stature could manage. Many times he would be seen whirling and spinning his way down those streets, humming as he went. Soon, the humming turned to singing the numbers and so the psalmist was born.

Later in his early years, the streets were not enough.

"All life has an adventure waiting to be explored!" Was his creed as he kissed his mother goodbye on his way out one early morning. You see, he had decided that this day he would take a different route to his teacher Simon's school. Little did he expect to find what he did. Upon the streets of the marketplace, an entourage of musicians and artists had gathered. This stalled young Thren from his lessons as he was bewildered by the many forms of art he witnessed. Even as he gawked at the sight, the captain of the guard wandered by.

"Sheath" was the only reply of the captain and the musician were swift to heed that order, packing up their supplies and making a hurried retreat from the market square.

This was the beginning of how I learned my lessons. You see, craft is mostly viewed as a means to an end, those that have a direct result of preserving a life or ending it are what is uplifted. I'd like to offer another alternative to this thinking. It is not just the way we thrive or how we survive, it is the little details that make the whole. If you mark each step you make, never taking a single instance for granted, then there is no adventure that will be wasted. Life is full of adventure. It is up to us to make each moment just that. Like a knife can be a weapon in the hands of a fighter, it can be a tool of healing in the hands of a surgeon. Like a lute can be a remedy to a mental malady, it as well can be an instrument for change.

It is all in the way we view it, our perception, and what action we are willing to put behind it. If we aren't willing to perceive what is currently, and adjust to what new things have come, then we will miss all the opportunity to could be. The musician I wrote about did just that. They packed up their supplies and left and missed the opportunity that was presented. I would hope that no moment goes wasted for me.