I'laral'i. The Parallel Grace. 11"x17" ink on Bristol
The Parallel Grace
I have been plagued by restlessness. I spend my days dwelling on everything I have lost and the nights aiming my eyes toward the ceiling in hopes of avoiding the scratching tune that plagues my dreams. I see her face in the black sands of The Ebony Desert only for it to be blown away by the ear-wrenching melody of a wolf's arrival. It haunts me. Am I so caught in my own despair that it’s pricked the attention of the procession? Is this despair so absolute? I do not know.
The premise that absolute despair can be destructive is one all too familiar with the majority of any person. However it also needs to be understood that hope can be equally destructive should it be explored in its absolute. It is often that absolute hope leads to absolute despair, and vice versa. I would know. The battle of self, while small in comparison to gods, is a battle largely fought by many with the cognitive ability to fight themselves. This is the daily war of Nylu and Rohis. A constant push and pull between the waking dreamer in the pursuit of either nihilistic desire or optimistic service. To fall into the clutches of despairs long fingers or plant yourself in hopes spreading roots.
My mother tried her best to prepare me for the hardships of life through story. Unfortunately, now, I still struggle to maintain a faith in either direction. The songs of The Ebony Desert have only gotten louder as I close my eyes. I’ve become lonely. I can hardly remember the sound of my mother’s voice and my lovers hands can no longer guide me to the peace that would lead me to The Alabaster Sea. Now I find myself floating in an ether of purposelessness. Crushed by the hope that I can hear the voice of either again and slowly falling into the despair of knowing I will not.
I am paralyzed.
In moments like these, when I lay awake at night for fear of hearing the haunting procession of The Dream Eater, I think of the words of a friend. I can almost see the words manifesting themselves on the ceiling in my sleepless delirium. Words that only further remind me of my mother’s tales.
“Understand that this tragedy that you find yourself confronted by is no doing of your own. It is merely an obstacle placed in front of you. Only it is you who has the decision set before you of how to overcome it. Should you sit at the obstacle and let it block your path you will find yourself in the company of Despair. Should the wall be torn down by your hands you will find yourself bleeding out at the feet of Hope. But should you decide to carry the burden of your sorrow upon your shoulder and climb this obstacle you will find yourself in the patient company of Grace. You should give yourself some Grace in this time, friend.”
Between every opposite extreme of faith, be it in Nylu or Rohis, lies an equal truth, or so I’m told. Maybe even a stronger truth. I’laral’i. A child born of conflict. A gift that only suffering can bring. A gift that once given to yourself, can be shared with others. Grace sits in the center of the internal war. A god no one speaks of for even those who are of the middle faith find no reason to wage war over it. It is not Their purpose.
I am not sure that such a god exists, and if they do then perhaps they are in slumber or simply turn their gaze away from me.
My mother described this god to me only a few times. I am not sure why she did not speak of Them as often. Maybe I will never know.
“Somewhere far in The Ebony Desert between the chorus of a broken tune and the light from an Alabaster Sea there lies The Celestial Pool. This pool is unlike that of any water you would know for its waters are that of a starry night’s sky. In this pool lies its keeper, and the pool itself, I’laral’i.
Their body is an ever flowing pool of stars. Surrounding their golden halo are hands of the same substance, each pointing the direction and offering guidance in their graceful embrace. This is the reason for us using the stars to give us direction in the night. The hands of I’laral’i will guide the way.
Their face is dual sided. A face for the day, and a face for the night. Both speaking equal and opposite truths. They are a mysterious god. Not much is known about this Parallel God outside of story. No churches built or warning made. Simply that their hands will guide you in times where all seems lost. It is not too often that you find The Celestial Pool in The Ebony Desert. They say that, unlike Nylu or Rohis, I’laral’i does not seek you out, though They may whisper to you. Grace is undeserving, yet it is received. So in the moments where you find yourself undeserving of peace, know that it is available. And listen for the voice of Grace, as it may whisper your name”
I have sat quietly in my room every night for the last five nights. Each time I close my eyes I pray to hear my name whispered in the desert. All I hear in the void is the song of The Great Wolf growing ever closer.