Showing posts with label Warriorship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Warriorship. Show all posts

Tuesday 31 December 2019

The Warriorship of Beverley Marsh




“Warriorship is a basic sense of unshakeability. 
It’s a sense of immovability and self-existing dignity rather than that you are trying to fight with something else.” 

It’s an enormously valuable lesson in confidence-building.




“Afterward, Some are Strong at The Broken Places.”

The word "Survivor" used to mean "One Who Has Survived," but now Modern Psychiatry would have Us believe that Survival is a Curse, like Sisyphus with His Rock.

And so every day we wake - To Survive Again.















Merovingians
Among the Merovingians, whose rulers were the "long-haired kings", the ancient custom remained that an unsuccessful pretender or a dethroned king would be tonsured. 

Then he had to retire to a monastery, but sometimes this lasted only until his hair grew back.

Thus Grimoald the Elder, the son of Pippin of Landen, and Dagobert II's guardian, seized the throne for his own son and had Dagobert tonsured, thus marking him unfit for kingship,and exiled.


The practice of tonsure, coupled with castration, was common for deposed emperors and their sons in Byzantium from around the 8th century, prior to which disfigurement, usually by blinding, was the normal practice.


“Why are so many people in America obsessed with Marilyn Manson; corpses; dead people; misery; John Wayne Gacy… John Wayne Gacy’s a fucking prick. 

Y’know, he killed a few people and did some shitty paintings. 

What’s that? 

Why should we be engaged with that? 

And yet that has become.. what, “apocalypse culture“?

Where do we go from there, that isn’t that? 
Where do we go that isn’t playing with our own shite?


The Answer… back to the individual.
If the individual doesn’t work – if Patrick McGoohan was wrong; Number 6 was wrong to stand on that beach screaming “I am not a number, I am a free man!” – what do we have left?
Because ultimately the guy who’s not a number and not a free man experiences neurosis, the longer he goes down that path. I’m sure there’s a bunch of people here, like me, who eventually… you’ve worked your way through this stuff; you’ve read the books, you’ve done this shit; you’ve taken the drugs; you’ve been there, you’ve seen it. We’ve all experienced enlightenment in little bits. You know it’s out there; you know this stuff is true: the consensus doesn’t explain our lives. But what does?
Imagine getting rid of the individual. Imagine getting rid of that scaffolding. What do we have left? And here’s what I’m about to offer:
The more I looked into it, the more I began to see that we have these mutants living among us, right now. The people from the 21st century; from the end of the 21st century are here. But there is no context for them. In the same way that – y’know, if you lived in… Tunguska two hundred years ago, and you were an epileptic, you would be a shaman. There was a context for you. In this society, you’re an epileptic. It’s quite simple; it’s a disease, and nothing you say is of any worth because it’s considered pathology.
If, on the other hand, you look at these people, who are the mutants… and what do they call it? Multiple Personality Disorder.
This is what lies beyond the personality; the “I”; the bullshit.
Because if you take “I” to the limit – and like I said, I’m sure a lot of us here have done this – it becomes… all that happens is that self questions self. Endlessly; repetitively. “Am I doing this right? Is this the right way? Should I think about these people like this? Should I approach them this way; should I involve them this way?” Self questions self, endlessly, and it reaches a peak… it goes nowhere.
On the national scale, that same thing – self questions self; self encounters not-self; equals borders, war, destruction.. that’s where it goes. That’s where it ends. That thing ends in disaster.
It ends in neurosis on a personal level. And it ends in war on the national level.
So I began to think: “What could we replace that with?” And I was looking at these poor MPD fuckers. And I realised they just don’t have a context.
What would happen if we decided to abandon the personality, and replace it with a multiple personality complex? Because as we all know – everyone in here, I’m sure.. I mean, I feel as if I can say this for certain, knowing human beings as they are: sometimes you do things that you don’t want to do. Sometimes you do things that are contradictory to what you think. Sometimes you fuck yourself up.
Why? Because there’s not one person in here; there’s hundreds.
And if you start giving them names, and you start shuffling them about; if you start playing with them, you become a bigger human being. Because you’ve no longer allowed yourself to stop at your boundaries.
Imagine the personality as… let’s choose Windows, even though that’s a contentious one. Imagine the personality as Windows. Instead of the personality.. there’s so many people, I’m sure you’ve met them.. you talk to them, and they say “No, this is the way I am. I’ve worked on this. This is me. And I won’t change. And you’ll just have to work with that. This is me; this is important; this is what I’ve come to, and this is what I’ve Made Of Myself.”
Bullshit. It’s a trap. They don’t go anywhere; they’re stuck there.
What if those same people were then given Personality 2000? Which is an upgrade, and an add-on? And here’s a bit of your personality that likes hip hop? Here’s a bit to your personality that likes ballet? And because we’ve all got them. And we’ve got the fucker.. we’ve got the serial killer inside; we’ve got the wonderful new-age bastard… we’ve got whatever we like. We’ve got James Bond in there. We’ve got Pussy Galore in there. They’re all there.
So what I’m suggesting is that we start working with that. Abandon the personality; abandon the individual; abandon the “I” because it’s a lie, and it has held us down; it’s been like a weight round our necks. It was useful for the last two thousand years of history, because it created this out of the chaos that was – and this is more coherent; more useful; more meaningful. It has its problems; everything does; every system has – but we’re getting better.
And I think what we should do is walk away from the crap of the 21st century, and start thinking about what we’ve been experiencing.
My feeling about the 20th century, and about World War II and about Auschwitz and all of that stuff is that we had to go through it. We had to do it. That was humanity’s dark night of the soul, and it will never, ever happen again. But it had to happen.
Every single nightmare image, every image of hell that we have in our minds happened. Everything you can think of; people were flayed, brutalised, gassed, tortured, cut into pieces, turned into pigs – everything you can imagine happened. The world was a wasteland. There were cities completely annihilated. We went through it.
Why did we do that?
Stanislav Grof has a conception of the ‘perinatal matrices‘, which was one of the big influences on the film The Matrix. You might recognise some of this. He says that things that happen to us around birth are really profound, and they have all kinds of weird effects. They effect society, they effect the self; they effect everything. They have reverberations.
And he claims that there are several states, that he calls “Basic Perinatal Matrices”.
The first state is oceanic bliss – which we’re all familiar with, I’m sure. Oceanic fuckin’ bliss, mate. And that is the state of the baby in the womb, untouched – everything is provided for; everthing is there; everything you need will turn up out of the blue.
Basic Perinatal Matrix 2 is a different thing. It’s when the womb starts to turn a little toxic, and begins to suggest we’re about to be expelled. And, y’know, we don’t remember this stuff – what happened? What was the feeling of that fetus in there who suddenly thinks: “My entire universe has been overturned and I’m about to be shit out”? Does he know where he’s going? “What the fuck’s this? Y’know, I was happy there. It was cool; I was getting everything I wanted.”
And so on into BPM 4 – which is kind of a release from tension; which is the birth process.
So I’m beginning to think.. as a society – and returning to the idea of ontogeny as history.. phylogeny, or whatever the fuck the word is.. what we’re looking at now is humanity’s process through Grofian matrices.
And what we went through is actually a Stanislav Grof Basic Perinatal Matrix 3 experience.
Every image that he talks about: death camps, control, the idea of people.. babies trapped in tubes.. you’ll recognise all this from The Matrix, as I said.
Oil, mechanisms, machines that hate us; destructive technology.. it all happened.
What if this little baby that is the universe; this little larvae that’s approaching culmination, has had to go through these stages? Because everything does. If you want to get rid of war, how do you get rid of war? You inoculate yourself against war by having the worst fuckin’ war you’ve ever had in your life. And everything after that’s just an aftershock. We’ve done nothing worse than what we did in those few years. Humanity’s never come close to anything like it. We’ve tried; there’s been a few lunatics who’ve tried. But nothing on that scale.
So what if we choose to imagine that humanity has passed through that stage?
We’ve reached the 21st century, and we’re now approaching Basic Perinatal Matrix 4. Which is: victory after war. Which is: the struggle is over. Which is: we’re all here; what do we do next?
There was no apocalypse; there was no Christ. There was no rapture. There is nothing. All this stuff is shit.
There is only us. And we’ve still got another thousand years, and maybe another thousand beyond that, and maybe another twenty thousand beyond that.
What are we gonna do?
Who are we?
Are we gonna stick to these personalities; these bounded, territorial things?
Are we gonna expand ourselves; make ourselves bigger? So that if you happen to like.. [say] ‘world music’ and I don’t, I can tap into your love of ‘world music’, and experience it – and it means something.
So all I’m suggesting here is that we all take up magic. Because basically it works. We can change the world. It’s quite simple; the technology’s there. The Buddhists have been telling us.. as I said, people have been telling us this for so long. And in the last two hundred years, it’s been driven underground and we’ve forgotten.
And people like us are here today to try and recover something of that. And the way to recover it, is to do it. Do the techniques. Go buy an Aleister Crowley book; [or] buy one by Phil Hine or Peter Carroll that’s a bit more up to date, and you don’t have to bother with that 18th century fucking language. But do the shit, and you will find it works.
And we stand here now. This is the counterculture. We are the counterculture.. this is like, this shit. I went to this thing in, like, 1987 and it was Robert Anton Wilson and the whole deal – and I remember sitting in the audience thinking “fuck, rave is dead”. Because it was that kind of thing; that version of it’s dead. The hippy version of it’s dead.
We stand here. And we’re looking ahead. What are we gonna do?
Abandon the personality is what I suggest.
Get rid of the sense of self. Get rid of the sense of “I”, and make yourself something bigger. Imagine that every time you want to learn something new, it’s a new computer program; you can buy the operating system; the update. You can learn to fly a plane in seven days according to Neuro-Linguistic Programming – so why not? Let’s do it.
Do we want to change things? Or are we just sitting here talking?
No answer.
Are we talking at all? Do we want to change things? Yeah! Right – that’s why we’re fucking here, man. That is why we’re here!
So what are we gonna do?
If you want to change things, the first thing you have to change is yourself.
Because if you don’t change yourself, you will take on the world as if it is yourself – and fuck up. You will really fuck up, because you don’t understand your own dark side. If you don’t understand your own weird, shitty side.. if you don’t understand the fact that there’s someone in there who will kill your mother, if need be – if you can’t take that on; if you can’t take that on board and realise that Charles Manson and me and you are not much different; that John Wayne Gacy and me and you are not much different – except that he did it. Y’know, there’s those days when I’m gonna kill that motherfucker over there – but we don’t do it.
But it’s in us, and it’s there. And so much of this is denial. That we have no dark side. You know: the hippies, and those lovely people in the rave era who were all on ecstasy – they tried to pretend we have no dark side. And what happened was they got fucked up by their own dark side. As will always happen.
So let’s kiss our dark sides; let’s fuck our dark sides. Get him down there where he belongs. And he can tell us stuff. Y’know, that thing’s useful.
But above all: let’s become plex-creatures. Complex, superplex – be able to take on new personality traits; able to take on new ideas; able to adapt; able to extend our boundaries into what was previously the ‘enemy territory’ – until the point where we become what was once our enemy, and they are us, and there is no distinction.
Mad Cow Disease, or BSE, or CJD – Creutzfeld-Jacob Disease; it’s very interesting. It’s hitting the headlines; people are interested in these new 21st-century fucked up diseases that are gonna wipe us all out, apparently.
This is a disease – I’ve been studying this, coz it seems like a really good metaphor to use – CJD is a disease that attacks the brain and central nervous system and utterly demolishes them. Completely; you’re fucked. You will slide down a ramp like a stupid cow. You’ll fall on the concrete; you won’t be able to walk; your brain will turn to sponge. You’ll be eaten to bits.
You know that CJD does that without the immune system noticing? The immune system can’t detect CJD. By the time you’re slipping down the ramp like a cow, it’s all over. The immune system suddenly says: “Oh fuck; we’re in trouble.” Too late, mate.
So what happens if we act like BSE and CJD? What if we colonise the culture? What if we give it something it can’t swallow?
And this is a little bit like what Doug [Rushkoff] was saying earlier: we go in there; they want us. They’re desperate for us, because they think we know this shit; we know something they don’t know. We’re attached; we’re connected in some way that they don’t.. “they”, whoever “they” are; these poor bastards. They’re looking at us, like – coz I’ve got a leather jacket, I know something, y’know?!
But that’s what they think. And what I think has actually happened here is: the culture’s getting weirder and weirder.
Back home in Britain, Tony Blair is putting up cameras in every street corner. And he’s talking about putting cameras in peoples’ homes. He’s gotten rid of trial by jury. This is like, fascist Britain 1999, y’know?
But the more he does this, the weirder things get.
The more cameras you put up, the more people will start to act like movie stars. The more people start to act like movie stars, the weirder things get. And then the *more* cameras they put up to try and deal with it! And the weirder it gets!
So let ‘em bring the cameras; I’ll fucking act the shit out of these bastards! Let’s have the cameras. Let’s have cameras everywhere. And we’ll show them what we can do.
And they’ll be watching, going: “Man, that guy’s getting fucked; I wish I was.”
And they want in. They want in on this. So let’s, like Doug said, invite them in. Let’s take them in. Let’s be like the diseased prion that destroys its host, and CJD.
Let’s go in there and give them something they cannot digest. Something they cannot process. Something so toxic, so dangerous, so powerful.. that it will breed, and destroy them utterly.
Not destroy them – turn them into us. Because that’s what we want. We want everybody to be cool. We don’t want to go in and think: “That guy over there’s gonna kill me; that guy hates me; that guy’s got some fucking weird agenda.”
Don’t we just wanna talk? And let it all go, and just say: “Hey, I’m interested in you; what have you got to tell me?”
That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? We communicate; we join up; we make networks; we make things happen.
And there are some people in the world who don’t wanna do that.
So let us infect them.
Infect them to the point where they become us.
Where there’s nothing left in this world, but us.
And then some kid’ll come up and fuck that as well.
And that’ll be exactly what we need at the time.
And that’s me finished, so thank you very much.”

D-Prime


“Warriorship is a Basic Sense of Unshakeability. 
It’s a sense of Immovability and Self-Existing Dignity rather than that you are trying to fight with Something Else.”




While teaching at the University of Florida, Alfred Korzybski counselled his students to eliminate the infinitive and verb forms of "to be" from their vocabulary, whereas a second group continued to use "I am," "You are," "They are" statements as usual. 

For example, instead of saying, "I am depressed," a student was asked to eliminate that emotionally primed verb and to say something else, such as, "I feel depressed when ..." or "I tend to make myself depressed about ..."

Korzybski observed improvement "of one full letter grade" by "students who did not generalize by using that infinitive".

Albert Ellis advocated the use of E-Prime when discussing psychological distress to encourage framing these experiences as temporary (see also Solution focused brief therapy) and to encourage a sense of agency by specifying the subject of statements.

According to Ellis, Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy "has favored E-Prime more than any other form of psychotherapy and I think it is still the only form of therapy that has some of its main books written in E-Prime".

However, Ellis did not always use E-Prime because he believed it interferes with readability.

Examples
Standard English
Blessed are The Poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

— New American Standard Bible, Matthew 5:3

E-Prime
The Poor in Spirit receive blessings, for The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to them.

Saturday 2 September 2017

Pearl


And goode faire White she het; 
That was my la dy name ryght. 
She was bothe fair and bryght; 
She hadde not hir name wrong. 

(Boke of the Duchesse, 948–51). 


THE [OC]: We offer you a gift. Return to us the human on your Tardis and in exchange, you may speak with her again. 

OLD GRANDFATHER :
Speak with whom? 

(A shadowy figure walks out of a ground floor archway with a bright light behind her.) 

OLD GRANDFATHER :
Young lady, who are you? 

PEARL : 
Is he here? Is the Doctor here? 

(Her Doctor, Dr. Disco AttackEyebrows comes out of the TARDIS.) 

PEARL: 
Doctor! 
(they hug) 
I knew it! I did, I knew it. I knew you couldn't be dead, you don't have the concentration. Doctor? What are you doing? 

(He scans her with the sonic screwdriver.) 

AttackEyebrows: 
Just keep still, please. Pearl.

PEARL: 
Yeah. 

AttackEyebrows: 
My friend Pearl was turned into a Cyberman. 
She gave her life so that people she barely knew could live. 

So, let's be clear. NOBODY imitates Bill Potts. 

Nobody MOCKS Pearl


Pearl: 
Bill Potts is standing right in front of you. 

DOCTOR: 
How is that even possible? 

BILL: Well, long story short. 

I totally pulled. 

The Queen of Courtesy. Do you remember, The Girl in The Puddle? 
Well, She showed up. She came for me. 


‘O perle’, quod I, ‘in perle  py  t, 
Art þou my perle þat I haf playned?’ 

" It has been objected that the child as seen in Heaven is not like an infant of two in appearance, speech, or manners: she addresses her father formally as sir, and shows no filial affection for him. 

But this is an apparition of a spirit, a soul not yet reunited with its body after the resurrection, so that theories relevant to the form and age of the glorified and risen body do not concern us. 

And as an immortal spirit, the maiden’s relations to the earthly man, the father of her body, are altered. 

She does not deny his fatherhood, and when she addresses him as  sir she only uses the form of address that was customary for medieval children. Her part is in fact truly imagined. 

The sympathy of readers may now go out more readily to the bereaved father than to the daughter, and they may feel that he is treated with some hardness. 

But it is the hardness of truth. In the manner of the maiden is portrayed the effect upon a clear intelligence of the persistent earthliness of the father’s mind; all is revealed to him, and he has eyes, yet he cannot see. The maiden is now filled with the spirit of celestial charity, desiring only his eternal good and the cure of his blindness.

It is not her part to soften him with pity, or to indulge in childish joy at their reunion. 

The final consolation of the father was not to be found in the recovery of a beloved daughter, as if death had not after all occurred or had no significance, but in the knowledge that she was redeemed and saved and had become a queen in Heaven. 

Only by resignation to the will of God, and through death, could he rejoin her. 

And this is the main purpose of the poem as distinct from its genesis or literary form: the doctrinal theme, in the form of an argument on salvation, by which the father is at last convinced that his Pearl, as a baptized infant and innocent, is undoubtedly saved, and, even more, admitted to the blessed company of the 144,000 that follow the Lamb. 

But the doctrinal theme is, in fact, inseparable from the literary form of the poem and its occasion; for it arises directly from the grief, which imparts deep feeling and urgency to the whole discussion. Without the elegiac basis and the sense of great personal loss which pervades it, Pearl would indeed be the mere theological treatise on a special point, which some critics have called it. 

But without the theological debate the grief would never have risen above the ground. 

Dramatically the debate represents a long process of thought and mental struggle, an experience as real as the first blind grief of bereavement. In his first mood, even if he had been granted a vision of the blessed in Heaven, the dreamer would have received it incredulously or rebelliously. 

And he would have awakened by the mound again, not in the gentle and serene resignation of the last stanza, but still as he is first seen, looking only backward, his mind filled with the horror of decay, wringing his hands, while his wreched wylle in wo ay wrazte. "

Prof. J.R.R. Tolkein's introduction to Pearl






38 The court where the living God doth reign
Hath a virtue of its own being,
That each who may thereto attain
Of all the realm is queen or king,
Yet never shall other’s right obtain,I
But in other’s good each glorying
And wishing each crown worth five again,
If amended might be so fair a thing.
But my Lady of whom did Jesu spring,
O’er us high she holds her empery,
And none that grieves of our following,
For she is the Queen of Courtesy.

39 In courtesy we are members all

Of Jesus Christ, Saint Paul doth write:
As head, arm, leg, and navel small
To their body doth loyalty true unite,
So as limbs to their Master mystical
All Christian souls belong by right.
Now among your limbs can you find at all
Any tie or bond of hate or spite?
Your head doth not feel affront or slight
On your arm or finger though ring it see;
So we all proceed in love’s delight
To king and queen by courtesy.’

40‘ Courtesy,’ I said, ‘I do believe 

And charity great dwells you among, 
But may my words no wise you grieve, 
You in heaven too high yourself conceive 
To make you a queen who were so young. 
What honour more might he achieve 
Who in strife on earth was ever strong, 
And lived his life in penance long 
With his body’s pain to get bliss for fee? 
What greater glory could to him belong 
Than king to be crowned by courtesy? 

41 THAT courtesy gives its gifts too free, 

If it be sooth that you now say. 
Two years you lived not on earth with me, 
And God you could not please, nor pray 
With Pater and Creed upon your knee –
And made a queen that very day! 
I cannot believe, God helping me, 
That God so far from right would stray. 
Of a countess, damsel, I must say, 
’Twere fair in heaven to find the grace, 
Or of lady even of less array, 
But a queen! It is too high a place.’ 

42‘ Neither time nor place His grace confine’,

Then said to me that maiden bright,
‘For just is all that He doth assign,
And nothing can He work but right.
In God’s true gospel, in words divine
That Matthew in your mass doth cite,
A tale he aptly doth design,
In parable saith of heaven’s light:
“My realm on high I liken might
To a vineyard owner in this case.
The year had run to season right;
To dress the vines ’twas time and place.




43 All labourers know when that time is due.

The master up full early rose
To hire him vineyard workers new;
And some to suit his needs he chose.
Together they pledge agreement true
For a penny a day, and forth each goes,
Travails and toils to tie and hew,
Binds and prunes and in order stows.
In forenoon the master to market goes,
And there finds men that idle laze. 
‘Why stand ye idle?’ he said to those.
‘Do ye know not time of day nor place?’ 

44‘ This place we reached betimes ere day’,

This answer from all alike he drew,  
‘Since sunrise standing here we stay, 
And No Man offers us work to do.’ 
‘Go to my vineyard! Do what ye may!’ 
Said the lord, and made a bargain true:
‘In deed and intent I to you will pay 
What hire may justly by night accrue.’ 
They went to his vines and laboured too, 
But the lord all day that way did pace, 
And brought to his vineyard workers new, 
Till daytime almost passed that place. 

45 In that place at time of evensong,

One hour before the set of sun,
He saw there idle labourers strong
And thus his earnest words did run: 
‘Why stand ye idle all day long?’
They said they chance of hire had none. 
‘Go to my vineyard, yeomen young, 
And work and do what may be done!’
The hour grew late and sank the sun,
Dusk came o’er the world apace;
He called them to claim the wage they had won,
For time of day had passed that place.

46 THE time in that place he well did know;

He called:  ‘Sir steward, the people pay! 
Give them the hire that I them owe. 
Moreover, that none reproach me may, 
Set them all in a single row, 
And to each alike give a penny a day; 
Begin at the last that stands below, 
Till to the first you make your way.’ 
Then the first began to complain and say
That they had laboured long and sore:
‘These but one hour in stress did stay; 
It seems to us we should get more. 

47 More have we earned, we think it true, 

Who have borne the daylong heat indeed, 
Than these who hours have worked not two, 
And yet you our equals have decreed.’ 
One such the lord then turned him to:  
‘My friend, I will not curtail your meed. 
Go now and take what is your due! 
For a penny I hired you as agreed, 
Why now to wrangle do you proceed? 
Was it not a penny you bargained for? 
To surpass his bargain may no man plead. 
Why then will you ask for more? 

48 Nay, more –am I not allowed in gift 

To dispose of mine as I please to do? 
Or your eye to evil, maybe, you lift, 
For I none betray and I am true?’  
“Thus I”, said Christ, “shall the order shift: 
The last shall come first to take his due, 
And the first come last, be he never so swift; 
For many are called, but the favourites few.”
Thus the poor get ever their portion too,
Though late they came and little bore;
And though to their labour little accrue,
The mercy of God is much the more.

49 More is my joy and bliss herein,

The flower of my life, my lady’s height,
Than all the folk in the world might win,
Did they seek award on ground of right.
Though ’twas but now that I entered in,
And came to the vineyard by evening’s light.
First with my hire did my Lord begin;
I was paid at once to the furthest mite.
Yet others in toil without respite
That had laboured and sweated long of yore,
He did not yet with hire requite,
Nor will, perchance, for years yet more.’ 

50 Then more I said and spoke out plain:  

‘Unreasonable is what you say. 
Ever ready God’s justice on high doth reign, 
Or a fable doth Holy Writ purvey. 
The Psalms a cogent verse contain, 
Which puts a point that one must weigh: 
“High King, who all dost foreordain, 
His deserts Thou dost to each repay.” 
Now if daylong one did steadfast stay, 
And you to payment came him before, 
Then lesser work can earn more pay; 
And the longer you reckon, the less hath more.’

51‘ OF more and less in God’s domains 
No question arises’, said that maid, 
‘For equal hire there each one gains, 
Be guerdon great or small him paid. 
No churl is our Chieftain that in bounty reigns, 
Be soft or hard by Him purveyed; 
As water of dike His gifts He drains, 
Or streams from a deep by drought unstayed. 
Free is the pardon to him conveyed 
Who in fear to the Saviour in sin did bow; 
No bars from bliss will for such be made, 
For the grace of God is great enow.

52 But now to defeat me you debate 

That wrongly my penny I have taken here; 
You say that I who came too late 
Deserve not hire at price so dear. 
Where heard you ever of man relate 
Who, pious in prayer from year to year, 
Did not somehow forfeit the guerdon great 
Sometime of Heaven’s glory clear? 
Nay, wrong men work, from right they veer, 
And ever the ofter the older, I trow. 
Mercy and grace must then them steer, 
For the grace of God is great enow.



53 But enow have the innocent of grace. 

As soon as born, in lawful line 
Baptismal waters them embrace; 
Then they are brought unto the vine. 
Anon the day with darkened face 
Doth toward the night of death decline. 
They wrought no wrong while in that place, 
And his workmen then pays the Lord divine. 
They were there; they worked at his design; 
Why should He not their toil allow, 
Yea, first to them their hire assign? 
For the grace of God is great enow.






54 Enow ’tis known that Man’s high kind 

At first for perfect bliss was bred. 
Our eldest father that grace resigned 
Through an apple upon which he fed. 
We were all damned, for that food assigned 
To die in grief, all joy to shed, 
And after in flames of hell confined 
To dwell for ever unréspited. 
But soon a healing hither sped: 
Rich blood ran on rough rood-bough, 
And water fair. In that hour of dread 
The grace of God grew great enow.



55 Enow there went forth from that well 

Water and blood from wounds so wide: 
The blood redeemed us from pains of hell, 
Of the second death the bond untied; 
The water is baptism, truth to tell, 
That the spear so grimly ground let glide. 
It washes away the trespass fell 
By which Adam drowned us in deathly tide. 
No bars in the world us from 
Bliss divide In blessed hour restored, 
I trow, Save those that He hath drawn aside; 
And the grace of God is great enow.


56 GRACE enow may the man receive 

Who sins anew, if he repent; 
But craving it he must sigh and grieve 
And abide what pains are consequent. 
But reason that right can never leave 
Evermore preserves the innocent; 
’Tis a judgement God did never give 
That the guiltless should ever have punishment. 
The guilty, contrite and penitent, 
Through mercy may to grace take flight; 
But he that to treachery never bent 
In innocence is saved by right.

Monday 28 August 2017

Sentry - The Warrior Who Guards The Gate


DOCTOR: 
Now, there are only two things that I need to know. 
Where is my friend, and what destroyed the Roman army?
 
(The girl who had been chasing Bill enters, holding a stick with lots of pointed axe heads thrust through it and a red circular thing in a wicker frame.

KAR: 
I destroyed the Roman army.
 
DOCTOR: 
Really? What, you, just on your own? 
That's quite a trick.
 
KAR: 
I'm the Gatekeeper.
 
DOCTOR: 
Gatekeeper. What gate?
 
BAN: 
Didn't you hear the call? 
Where were you?
 
KAR: 
I had to find the Gatekeeper's Things.


  
DOCTOR: 
Sorry, wait a minute. 
Are you the Mighty Warrior that we've all been waiting for? Where are all the grown-ups?
 
KAR: 
There was a Great Battle. 
A Great Battle, and We beat The Romans.
 
BAN: 
Kar beat them. That's all that matters.
 
DOCTOR: 
Yes, but she's not a Warrior. 
She's an embryo. 
What did you do, throw your action figures at them?
 

KAR: 
Listen, Roman.
 
DOCTOR: 
We're not Roman. 
We're not part of the Roman army.
 
NARDOLE: 
No, we're not even slightly Italian. 
I mean, I do a mean spag bol.
 
KAR: 
Let me tell you about The Romans. 

They are The Robbers of This World. 
When they've thieved everything on land, they'll rob The Sea. 

If their enemies are rich, they'll take all they have. 
If their enemies are poor, they'll make slaves of them. 

Their work is robbery, slaughter, plunder. 
They do this work and they call it Empire. 
They make deserts and they call it Peace.
 
DOCTOR: 
Yeah, but you've got to love the indoor toilets, yeah?
 
KAR: 
They're not conquerors, they're cowards.
 
DOCTOR: 
They're also all dead.
There's an awful lot of dead cowards out there, and I don't believe that you killed them. 

Because the thing is, you said gate
you called yourself Gatekeeper
and you mentioned Gate weapons. 

So I've got to wonder, what kind of a gate is that, and what's on the other side?




DOCTOR: 
Now, they think these Cairns are gateways between Worlds.
 And given that they keep going on about gates, possibly they're right. 

(Outside, Kar grabs Nardole.

NARDOLE: 
Ooo! Ooo! No, but...

KAR: 
The Gate's opening. 
Your friend won't be coming back. 


(Nardole is now in Pictish garb, including a plaid and the face markings, and lecturing five villagers. The Doctor comes out of the Cairn.

NARDOLE:
You're back! 
They said you would probably never come back. 

DOCTOR: 
I was in there for seconds.
 
NARDOLE: 
Two days. 

(The Doctor thinks about this.)
DOCTOR: 
It's an inter-dimensional temporal rift. 
A second in there equates to days of time on this side. 
I was in there for two days? 

NARDOLE: 
And eight hours, five minutes, and...

DOCTOR: 
Well, that's good, then, isn't it? 

NARDOLE: 
Good? 

DOCTOR: 
Plenty of time for you to find Bill. 

NARDOLE: 
Oh. I looked. They helped me look. 

DOCTOR: 
How hard did you look? 

NARDOLE: 
I think we've lost her, Doctor. 

DOCTOR: 
No. No, no, no. 
We just don't know where she is. 
Not the same thing at all. Come on. 


 KAR: 
You came back. 

DOCTOR: 

Did you know what was in there? 

KAR: 

The Gate. 

DOCTOR: 

A portal between dimensions. 
Do you know what's on the other side? 
You don't know anything, do you. 
You just stand around making speeches and waving a TV aerial about. 

DOCTOR: 

Shall I tell you what's in there? 

KAR: 

No. It's called the Eater Of Light, and we held it back. 
Every generation, a new warrior went into the gate and fought the Eater Of Light so it couldn't break through. 

DOCTOR: 

But the creature did break through. 
(Kar nods
It broke through and it destroyed the whole Ninth Legion. 

KAR: 

It's weak, it's nearly dead. It will die soon. 

DOCTOR: 

Well, let's hope so, because there are millions more just like it on the other side, and very soon all of them will find their way through to this dimension. 

KAR: 

Then I'll hold them back. 

DOCTOR: 
You'll hold them back? 
What, with your lollipop and your kiddy face paint and your crazy novelty monster killing tool? 
Are you holding that thing the right way up, by the way? 

KAR: 
I don't want your Help! 

DOCTOR: 
But I'm all you've got.




DOCTOR: 
It's getting stronger again. It's strong enough to feed. 
Every hour of sunlight that feeds it makes The World darker, and The Beast stronger. 
We've got very little time.
 
KAR: 
 I have to stop it. 
This is my fault. I'm the Keeper of the Gate. 
I have to put this right. 

DOCTOR: 
So, you were supposed to guard The Gate while everyone else went off to war. 
But you had strangers at The Door, and a guard dog in the attic, so you let The Beast come through. 

KAR: 
It was the only Thing that could defeat Them. 

DOCTOR: 
So you thought the Eater Of Light could destroy a whole Roman army. 

KAR: 
It did. 

DOCTOR: 
And a whole Roman army could weaken or kill The Beast.
 
KAR: 
Yes. 

DOCTOR: 
Well, it didn't work. 
You got a Roman legion slaughtered, and you made the deadliest creature on This Planet very, very cross indeed. 
To protect a muddy little hillside, you doomed your whole world. 


[Cavern]
 
LUCIUS: 
One Man? 
You think One Man can save Us all?
 
BILL: 
Come and meet him. 
He came here to meet you. 
He's met loads of people like you. 

The terrified, the desperate. 
And He always Helps. 
He always makes a difference. 

LUCIUS: 
There are painted barbarians up there. They outnumber us. 
There is a Beast of Darkness that laid waste to an entire legion in less than an hour. 
No One Man can make a difference to that. 

BILL: 
Maybe that's what you don't learn when you think it takes five thousand highly trained soldiers to slaughter a bunch of Scottish farmers. 
Yes, One Man Can. 
And He's Here.
 
THRACIUS: 
If you're calling us cowards, carry on. 
We already ran away. 
We know. 

BILL: 
You're not cowards. 
You're scared. 
Scared is fine. 

Scared is human. 
But I'll tell you what it isn't. 
It isn't a plan.
 
LUCIUS:
 She's right.

THRACIUS: 
Why are you even listening to her, Grandad?
 
LUCIUS: 
Because no one else is saying anything. 
We need a plan. 
A real commander would have a plan. 

BILL: 
Why did he call you Grandad? 

LUCIUS: 
They always call me Grandad.
 I'm in command. 
I'm the oldest one left. 

BILL: 
How old are you? 

LUCIUS: 
Eighteen. 

BILL: 
Right, listen to me, all of you. 
 I'm going up there to find my friend. 

If you come with me, I can't promise that you won't all die. 
 But I can promise you this. 
You won't all die in a hole in the ground. 

[Round house]
(Night.) 

DOCTOR:
 We have to drive it back through and close The Portal behind it. 
 Now, The Gate only opens when The Dawn Sun hits it. 
Why is that? 

BAN: 
Our ancestors couldn't close The Gate completely, but they built the cairn to control it. 

NARDOLE: 
Ah, like venting an oil gush. 
If they let the portal open a few moments every year, they stop the whole thing ripping apart. 
It's quite clever, really. 

DOCTOR: 
Are you sulking? 

KAR: 
I'm Remembering The Dead. 

DOCTOR: 
Oh, right. 
Well, save that for old age. 

KAR: 
They're dead because of Me. 

DOCTOR: 
You know, every moment you waste wallowing about in that happy thought means more of The Living are going to join Them. 

When You Want to Win a War, Remember This :-
It's Not About You.
Believe Me, I know. 

Time to grow up, Kar. 
Time to fight Your Fight. 

(He takes the red mirror-like object she carries.

DOCTOR: 
How does this work? 

BAN: 
It poisons The Light as The Beast eats it. 

DOCTOR: 
Good. 
We'll need more of this. 
It has optical cancellation properties. 

Now, we have one chance. 
Right now it's weak, it's injured, it's starving. 
But when The Sun comes up, it will feed and grow strong. 

We have to lure it back through the portal before that happens, before sunrise. 
Now, I've got a plan, but I need your Help.
 
KAR: 
But I'm afraid. 

DOCTOR: 
Who isn't? 
But you've still got to face Your Beast anyway. 
Can you do that? 

KAR: 
Aye. 


It's a Labyrinth. 

DOCTOR: 
Hello. 

BILL: 
Hi. I brought you The Ninth Legion. 

(Currently in a small defensive square fending off the Picts.)
 
DOCTOR: 
Whoa, there they are. 
The Lost Legion of the Ninth.
 
BILL:
Totally found them. 

DOCTOR: 
Yeah, you totally did. 

(Nardole waves between bites of something.

BILL: 
Nardole, what happened to you? 

NARDOLE: 
Oh, I'm blending in. 
(Scots) Welcome to our land. Scotch. 

KAR: 
Drop your weapons. 

DOCTOR: 
Oh, for goodness' sake! 
We don't have time for this. 

LUCIUS: 
Stay back! 

BILL: 
Lucius, stop it! 

KAR: 
Are you their Champion now? 

BILL: 
There is no time for fighting! 

DOCTOR: 
Exactly. 

KAR:
 We never wanted to fight. 
We lived in peace, and then you came and laid waste to everything and everyone we loved. 
All you understand is War. 

BILL: 
No, he understands. 
Don't you? 
Now he's wondering why

LUCIUS: 
You speak Latin? 

KAR: 
I don't. 

BILL: 
Neither do I. Not a word. 
And I don't speak whatever they speak either. 
It's him. It's you, isn't it? 

DOCTOR: 
Yes, it's me. 

BILL: 
Something to do with the TARDIS. 
Maybe, telepathic field? 
So now that we all understand each other, how do we all sound? 

LUCIUS: 
You sound like children. 

KAR: 
You sound like children too. 

DOCTOR: 
You all do. 

BILL: 
Is this what happens when you understand what everyone in the universe is saying? 

Everybody just sounds like children? 

DOCTOR: 
There are exceptions. 

NARDOLE: 
Thank you very much. 

DOCTOR: 
Not you. 
Okay, kids, pay attention. 

She slaughtered your legion. 
You slaughtered everything that she loves.
Now, you all have a choice

You can carry on slaughtering each other till no one is left standing, 
or you grow the hell up! 
Because there's a New War now. 

I think these creatures are light-eating locusts, looking for rents and cracks between worlds to let themselves into Dimensions of Light. 

Once they break through, they eat. 
They will eat The Sun, and then they will eat The Stars. 
And they will keep eating until there are no stars left. 

So, whose side are you on now? 
Because as far as I can see, there's only one side left.
 




DOCTOR: 
They can only come through one at a time.
 
BILL: 
I know. 

DOCTOR: 
That's why guarding the gate worked. 
One Pict in there, fighting it off for a few minutes, that adds up to sixty or seventy years out here. 

BILL: 
I get it, yeah, and then the next one goes in. 

But what do we going to do this time? 

Or are you going line up Picts sacrificing themselves until the End of The World? 

DOCTOR: 
I've got a better idea this time. 

BILL: 
Which is the part you never tell me. 

DOCTOR: 
Don't I? 

BILL: No. 

DOCTOR:
I probably just get interrupted. 

(The musicians start up, repeating the same short theme from the top of the show. Bodhran, tin whistle which I hope is made of wood really, and there should be a small harp in there too.

NARDOLE: 
This is worse than jazz. 

[Outside the Cairn]
 
NARDOLE: 
Maybe it won't come.
 
(He sees a crow on a rock.)
 
NARDOLE: 
Hello. 

CROW: 
Hello. 

NARDOLE: 
Hello. 

CROW: Doc-tor! 

NARDOLE: 
No, no. Nardole. 
It's probably a bit tricky for you, that, innit? 

CROW: 
Nar. 

NARDOLE: 
Lovely. 
Hello! 

CROW: 
Monster! 

NARDOLE: 
Sorry? 

CROW: 
Monster! 

(And flies off as feet stomp by the small fires set along the ceremonial route to the Cairn then breaks into a gallop.)

BAN: 
There! 

NARDOLE: 
Oh! 

[Inside the Cairn]
 
NARDOLE: 
It's coming!
BAN:
 It's here! 

DOCTOR: 
Get ready! 

(Lucius takes the 'tv aerial' weapon from Ban.)
 
DOCTOR: 
Channel The Light! 




(Lots of those quartzite prisms are held up to colour and focus the light rays from the torches onto the beast. That stops it dead and annoys it.

DOCTOR: 

Keep it here! We've got to hold it here till sunrise.


(Other Picts poke at it with their 'tv aerials'.)
 
DOCTOR: 
Keep it there! Keep it there! 

(Lucius slashes at the tentacles with his sword. Dawn breaks over the mountains and shines down the passageway.

DOCTOR: 
Turn it, The Sun is rising! 

(The Doctor focuses the biggest mirror onto its head.)
 
DOCTOR: 
Back! Back to the void! 

(The rear wall opens and the beast backs through, then disappears into the vortex.

DOCTOR: 
It'll only stay open as long as the sunlight's on it. 
Give me your weapon. 

BILL: 
What are you doing? 

DOCTOR: 
This is the clever bit. 

BILL: 
Well, tell me. 

DOCTOR: 
The Gate has to be Guarded. 
There's no other way. 

The trouble is, human life spans, they're tiny. 
They're hilarious. 
You get used up too quickly. 

So what's the answer? 
Go on, figure it out. 
The answer's Me. 

I go on for ages. 
I don't even really die, I regenerate. 
I can hold that gate till The Sun goes out. 

BILL: 
No, you can't. 

DOCTOR: 
Course I can. 
I'm going to. 

BILL: 
This isn't your job. 

DOCTOR: 
No, it isn't, Bill. 
It's Who I Am. 




(He moves away from the opening to speak to Bill, and Kar moves towards it.

DOCTOR: 
I've been standing by the gates of your world, keeping you all safe, since you crawled out of the slime. 
I'm not stopping now. 


BILL: 
Doctor, please. 

DOCTOR: 
Listen. The TARDIS will take you home. 
Return journeys are easy. 

BILL: 
Listen to me. 

DOCTOR: 
Leave the instruments on the current setting. 
Just hit them with a spanner. 
(to Kar) The weapon. Now. 

KAR: 
No. 

DOCTOR: 
Give it to me. Come on. You'll be safe. 
Tomorrow you'll be farming. 
You can name a cow after me. 

BILL: 
What about the other gates that you have to guard? 
What about the Vault? 

DOCTOR: 
The Vault will never exist if I let those things come through. 

BILL: 
Well, then someone else better stop Them. 

DOCTOR: 
Nobody else can. 

KAR: 
I can. 

DOCTOR: 
What are you saying? 

KAR: 
Time to grow up, Doctor. 
Time to fight My Fight. 

(The Picts hold the Doctor back at spear point.

DOCTOR: 
I'm sorry, no. 
No one else can do this, not like I can. 

LUCIUS: 
We can. I'm ready. 
I'll guard The Gate with You. 
I'll fight by your side. 

DOCTOR: 
Awesome. Brilliant. 
You'll be a hero for two seconds, then the whole solar system will be devoured.
 
KAR: 
Stop him.
(Spears point at the Doctor's throat.
KAR: 
This is my destiny, my fight.

DOCTOR: 
Out of my way. Now! 

LUCIUS: 
We'll take it in turns. 

DOCTOR: 
Two of you can't hold the gate. 

THRACIUS: 
Two of them? 
I'm counting more than two. 
The Legion of the Ninth stands ready to serve. 

DOCTOR: 
Oh, stop being brave. 
I can't bear brave people. 

BAN: 
I'll put The Story in The Stone. 
I'll put Your Name in The Air. 
They'll see it for hundreds of years, and they'll know Your Name forever. 

KAR: 
Good. 
(They hug
Ready? 

DOCTOR: 
No. Listen to me! 
No, listen ...
(A stocky Pict clouts the Doctor over the head, and he falls. Bill picks up his lens.

BILL:
 You're wrong, Doctor. It's their destiny, not yours. 

NARDOLE: 
Sorry. You're going nowhere. 

(Nardole binds the Doctor's wrists. Bill gives Kar the lens.)
DOCTOR: 
Bill! Bill, stop it! 

BILL: Quickly! Quickly! 

LUCIUS: 
Soldiers of the Ninth, advance! 

KAR: 
Come on!
(Two Legionnaires lead Kar into the vortex, and the musicans follow. Lucius looks back at Bill and smiles before he disappears. Then the hilltop shakes.

[Outside the Cairn]


(Bill comforts the sobbing Ban, who has a crow perched on his hand.

BAN: 
Kar. 
She's holding The Gate. 
Remember, Her Name is Kar. 

CROW: 
Kar! 

BAN: 
Kar. 

CROW: 
Kar! Kar! 
 (flies off

NARDOLE: 
There, you were wrong. 
The Crows aren't sulking. 
The Crows are remembering.
 
CROW: 
Kar! Kar! Kar!
(They walk off across the moorland.)


DOCTOR: 
All right, I was wrong. 
I didn't know what really happened to the Ninth Legion.
 
BILL: 
No, we were both wrong about that.
 
DOCTOR: 
They were never really missing. 
They've always been Here. 
The Ninth Legion and the Keeper of The Gate, 
Seizing The Day 'til The Sun Goes Out. 

Holding Back The Dark. 

(He unlocks the TARDIS. A snatch of Pictish music.)
 
DOCTOR:
 What? 

BILL:
I thought.... Do you hear that? 
I thought I could hear the music, but I can't, can I. 
They're in another Time.
 
DOCTOR: 
Music's funny like that.


 "Sir, what are your orders?"

"There's only one order, lieutenant. 
We hold."
- Larkin and Captain Sisko