Mana
04-23-2011, 02:20 PM
The hustle and bustle of editorial journalism taxes a spirit even as sunny and exuberant as my own. I find that if the sum of my working days reaches or exceeds the number spent moping, carousing, or brainstorming illnesses to excuse me from future toil, I become “more crabby than Conqueror Beach in turtle season,” as my new secretary, Olivia, phrased it. I advised that she seek to sharpen her dress (she has an unfortunate penchant for cardigans) before or perhaps alongside her metaphorical wit, but she merely regarded me with those condemning emerald eyes and offered to facilitate my relocation to a more permanent roost beneath the beach’s purportedly crustacean-y sands.
Within moments of me requesting that she apply a coat of sunscreen as a proper sendoff, Olivia produced an itinerary for a week-long retreat, promising something about a melted Freljord and frozen Shurima before she would append lathering to her job description. Nearly four weeks since my last hiatus, this retreat was scheduled with hopes of moderating my “bristly” persona. A mind as fertile and vibrant as mine requires quite the reboot after a bout of honest labor, so she booked me passage to the enlightened southern shores of Ionia. Olivia expressed a desire that I seek audience with (and counsel from) the most patient man on Runeterra, the now-blind monk of the Shojin Monastery.
My holiday was quite refreshing if you block out (as my flasks of gin did) the portions in transit, cramped amongst snot-flinging infants and their elephantine mothers. I arrived at the Shojin monastery in good spirits, with good spirits, to find the celebrated monk whiling away his sightless hours aboard a raft, fishing in the Monastery’s bountiful and serene Lake Contemplation. He drifted aimlessly across the surface, floating in whichever direction the current carried him, pole swaying in gentle rhythm, catching cold faster than fish by the looks of it. Eventually he bobbed to shore and I clambered on. It was there that he shared some insights of trolling, and imparted some wisdom gained through diligent reflection.
“Many fishermen try to lure the fish. I seek to coax the water.” He mused suddenly, after nearly two hours of silence and me waving my hands in front of his face, trying to provoke a reaction. With confounding ease, he dipped one hand into the water and casually extracted a wiggling trout. “With perfect technique, I may catch every fish, but with harmonious water, every catch will be a trophy.” He tossed the writhing trout back to the waves, apparently turning a blind eye to my growing appetite. Didn’t see that coming.
You will endure my puns whether you appreciate them or not.
“Our world rewards the busy man. The man who graduates first is smartest. The man who conquers furthest is strongest. The man who owns most is richest. But as man fills his life with these things, he loses touch with his only true possession: his self. There is no difference to spending a life gazing at the sky, foregoing the earth around you than to spend a life accumulating wealth, power, or status, foregoing the world inside you. The outside alone will never fill the inside.”
I am certain at this point that he was openly mocking my hunger.
“Valoran is a place where one man’s misstep can ripple outward, causing many to stumble.” To illustrate his point, he dropped a small pebble in the water. “But the secret, the true magic of this place, is that we are all connected, and together we can stand again.” At this he stood, and drew his pole up out of the water. I immediately regretted that I couldn’t somehow affect a sound or smell faithful to my sourly flat-faced expression as a monstrous trout emerged from the depths at the end of his line.
He smiled for the first time since my arrival.
“Alright, put away your moody face, it’s time to eat.”
Within moments of me requesting that she apply a coat of sunscreen as a proper sendoff, Olivia produced an itinerary for a week-long retreat, promising something about a melted Freljord and frozen Shurima before she would append lathering to her job description. Nearly four weeks since my last hiatus, this retreat was scheduled with hopes of moderating my “bristly” persona. A mind as fertile and vibrant as mine requires quite the reboot after a bout of honest labor, so she booked me passage to the enlightened southern shores of Ionia. Olivia expressed a desire that I seek audience with (and counsel from) the most patient man on Runeterra, the now-blind monk of the Shojin Monastery.
My holiday was quite refreshing if you block out (as my flasks of gin did) the portions in transit, cramped amongst snot-flinging infants and their elephantine mothers. I arrived at the Shojin monastery in good spirits, with good spirits, to find the celebrated monk whiling away his sightless hours aboard a raft, fishing in the Monastery’s bountiful and serene Lake Contemplation. He drifted aimlessly across the surface, floating in whichever direction the current carried him, pole swaying in gentle rhythm, catching cold faster than fish by the looks of it. Eventually he bobbed to shore and I clambered on. It was there that he shared some insights of trolling, and imparted some wisdom gained through diligent reflection.
“Many fishermen try to lure the fish. I seek to coax the water.” He mused suddenly, after nearly two hours of silence and me waving my hands in front of his face, trying to provoke a reaction. With confounding ease, he dipped one hand into the water and casually extracted a wiggling trout. “With perfect technique, I may catch every fish, but with harmonious water, every catch will be a trophy.” He tossed the writhing trout back to the waves, apparently turning a blind eye to my growing appetite. Didn’t see that coming.
You will endure my puns whether you appreciate them or not.
“Our world rewards the busy man. The man who graduates first is smartest. The man who conquers furthest is strongest. The man who owns most is richest. But as man fills his life with these things, he loses touch with his only true possession: his self. There is no difference to spending a life gazing at the sky, foregoing the earth around you than to spend a life accumulating wealth, power, or status, foregoing the world inside you. The outside alone will never fill the inside.”
I am certain at this point that he was openly mocking my hunger.
“Valoran is a place where one man’s misstep can ripple outward, causing many to stumble.” To illustrate his point, he dropped a small pebble in the water. “But the secret, the true magic of this place, is that we are all connected, and together we can stand again.” At this he stood, and drew his pole up out of the water. I immediately regretted that I couldn’t somehow affect a sound or smell faithful to my sourly flat-faced expression as a monstrous trout emerged from the depths at the end of his line.
He smiled for the first time since my arrival.
“Alright, put away your moody face, it’s time to eat.”