Thy Quest is not yet complete . . .
Nearly 20 years ago, I played my first computer RPG - Ultima IV and was instantly hooked. That was the first time I ever experienced the sense of "being there" like is common with totally becoming immersed in a good book. I was completely captivated by the rpg experience, but it was this particular rpg's central quest that made the experience all the more profound for me. The Quest of the Avatar was to become the embodiment of the Eight Virtues which were based on the three principles of Truth, Love, and Courage.
This was a fascinating theme for me that closely mirrored my own personal quest for enlightenment, but the fantasy aspect added a sense of moving forward - delving through dungeons and facing unknown terrors in the depths was metaphor for exploring the more shadowy recesses of my own mind. Overcoming obstacles and solving puzzle traps exemplified the power of reason while facing your fears, and the cryptic messages and obscure references that combined to reveal a path were a testimony to sage-hood and the interconnectedness of all knowledge.
I don't know why I suddenly remembered all of this today, but it has made me realize just how far I've strayed from the path I once travelled. There was a time when I was completely driven by the pursuit of knowledge and the highs of self-contemplation. There was once a time when I would spend no less than 6 hours a day with my nose in a book, or a pen in my hand. Oftentimes I would simply write free style, scribbling instantaneous revelations of thought that I could not help but leap from one point to the next. Or I might be inspired to write for hours after reading a single sentence - sometimes it would be days before I would turn the page. And this was absolute fun to me. Knowledge was exciting. Connections were everywhere.
Now I sit here and ponder - what happened?
Perhaps it is no surprise that I lay partial blame on the Internet, or more specifically Usenet, which became my substitute for actual reading in the mid to early 90's. It was all very exciting at first - the concept of being able to participate in thought-provoking discussions with people from all over the world . . . except that it seemed to require more energy to put up with all the non-sequiturs and perpetual regurgitations than one received back from any meaningful exchange. Ultimately, the whole experience became repetitious like some Hegelian nightmare.
There is another consideration, at least for me, a self-professed socialphobe. I note that my earliest exchanges of ideas were embarked upon in solitude, by my own standards and pace. The online world, though able to be experienced in seclusion from the comfort of your own home, still requires a form of social interaction, for which I have little taste or endurance. It may be psychologically telling that my earlier experiences were more enjoyable when I was the only member in the audience.
In any case, I want that quest feeling back.
Name? Job?
Avatar, where art thou?
This was a fascinating theme for me that closely mirrored my own personal quest for enlightenment, but the fantasy aspect added a sense of moving forward - delving through dungeons and facing unknown terrors in the depths was metaphor for exploring the more shadowy recesses of my own mind. Overcoming obstacles and solving puzzle traps exemplified the power of reason while facing your fears, and the cryptic messages and obscure references that combined to reveal a path were a testimony to sage-hood and the interconnectedness of all knowledge.
I don't know why I suddenly remembered all of this today, but it has made me realize just how far I've strayed from the path I once travelled. There was a time when I was completely driven by the pursuit of knowledge and the highs of self-contemplation. There was once a time when I would spend no less than 6 hours a day with my nose in a book, or a pen in my hand. Oftentimes I would simply write free style, scribbling instantaneous revelations of thought that I could not help but leap from one point to the next. Or I might be inspired to write for hours after reading a single sentence - sometimes it would be days before I would turn the page. And this was absolute fun to me. Knowledge was exciting. Connections were everywhere.
Now I sit here and ponder - what happened?
Perhaps it is no surprise that I lay partial blame on the Internet, or more specifically Usenet, which became my substitute for actual reading in the mid to early 90's. It was all very exciting at first - the concept of being able to participate in thought-provoking discussions with people from all over the world . . . except that it seemed to require more energy to put up with all the non-sequiturs and perpetual regurgitations than one received back from any meaningful exchange. Ultimately, the whole experience became repetitious like some Hegelian nightmare.
There is another consideration, at least for me, a self-professed socialphobe. I note that my earliest exchanges of ideas were embarked upon in solitude, by my own standards and pace. The online world, though able to be experienced in seclusion from the comfort of your own home, still requires a form of social interaction, for which I have little taste or endurance. It may be psychologically telling that my earlier experiences were more enjoyable when I was the only member in the audience.
In any case, I want that quest feeling back.
Name? Job?
Avatar, where art thou?