Originally Post Date: Jan 2nd, 2009
Camelot.
The place of Arthurian legend. It's also the place of heart's distinction. Wisdom is often found in fairy tales. Camelot has been the source of a great deal of my wisdom.
It was not always so real as the knights of the round, of course. It started in the fantasy of all wisdom: conversation. But from patient conversation and painful experience, I came to appreciate the reality of our plight. Anthropologists call it the human condition. Hobbes called it justification for the Leviathan. My friend calls it "the way she goes." I call it the walled city of wonder: Camelot.
To be specific, it's actually the world outside Camelot. The surrounding geography, politics, religion and the meaningless barbarism that it all lived in. It's the reason Camelot was founded. When times were so hard that the people of the land were threatened with their very existence, they began to join forces.
The version that I take to heart is the one where Arthur surrounds himself with people of quality and of purpose. He would admit into Camelot only families who had something to offer the community. If they needed weavers, and a family knocked on Camelot's doors wanting in, they would need to be weavers, or be politely dismissed. The community was completely self sufficient, specializing each of their talents in a way that Adam Smith would later only dream of. Under the management of Arthur and a close circle of allies who all bore their own special talents as well, this community provided for itself and defended itself against all comers. They forged, together, a province of sustainable meaning and successful growth in a world that was lawless, brutal, and uncertain.
Each of us is monarch of our own province. Each of us starts with the land that Chance hands out; no son or daughter of Adam chooses the family they are borne into. Some of us are born kings and queens of grand empires, corrupt but ripe with potential. Some of us are born into simple hamlets, content and well managed. And a startling number of us are born into the sewer streets of aforementioned corruption. Having been crowned with my own private orchard, I looked out upon the world around me and found naught but meaninglessness in the lands of olde royalty. It had long ago crumbled to chaos, and the countless millions who sought to sustain it still were walking against the wind - only cold and miserable when they were successful. Unequivocally, all ended like Ozymandias.
I, for as long as I have been conscious, have worked to build a Camelot. To the community of my life I brought in only that which was good and pure, and had something to offer my community: people with passion and heart, people with intelligence and wisdom, people with a car. All that brought good intention would be welcome, and all that brought malice and threatened evil were rejected and expelled. All work towards the greater good: forging real happiness and appreciation out of a world that merely pretends at such things.
My closest friends have been knighted, bringing with them the long swords of trust and the shields of transparency that I have bestowed upon them. Together, we sit as equals in chairs forged by love, and manage a kingdom that cares for the genuine Truth and Beauty and Health of the land around us - our land. My land. My life.
Not every knight is there, of course. Some are in far off lands on envoy missions of peace or of war. Others have needed to return to their own homeland to cease and solve troubles there. But they are always welcome back. Their chair is never dismantled, their spot never revoked. The table suffers when it lacks their presence, but preserves their spot without cost to any other.
And not every friend is knighted. As Camelot grows, it accepts everyone of character that it can sustainably provide for. The hills are surrounded by acquaintances that seek to forge for themselves their own little hamlet in exchange for their work. And all work under the banner of unity. Under a banner of Something out of nothing. The country requires little of them, but can call upon them any time. And similarly, when they request it, the country provides for them.
The geography of my kingdom spans mountains and plains, including such infamous mountain tops as Christianity, Atheism, Paganism and Buddhism. We have subjects who live in the valleys of Agnosticism and Skepticism. We even provide for the hermits in the wilderness of Aimlessness when they can stand our presence. We have set up several mills alongside the rivers of Science and Business, and have even created our own lakes, filling them with Art.
The residents of my kingdom include lawyers, law enforcers, poets, writers, painters, photographers, businessmen, physicists, historians, anthropologists, psychologists, soldiers, tradeswomen, musicians, adventurers, salesmen, teachers, philosophers and mothers. And it's still growing.
As idealistic as it is, there are most certainly dark times. Lancelot sat at the table with his kinsmen, like Judas before him. And I have certainly been betrayed deeply by Guinevere. Unequivocally, all ends like Ozymandias.
A recurring dark age, I fear, comes from the wisdom of the barbarians outside the city gates. In their savage tongue they taunt the watchmen, "the only reason anyone lives in there, is because everyone wants to live! They don't actually care about each other, and they certainly don't care about their king!" The watchmen scoff, thinking to their own families and their own commanders, admiring the respect and appreciation they have for each other. Those barbarians couldn't possibly understand that. "Oh but we do!" their laughter cackles. "But you only have that illusion because you built it, and because it works for you. If your Knights should fail to protect you, or provide you with that emotion and attraction that you seek, you would surely flee. And should your King not protect and serve your Knights, they too would abandon him. Reciprocity is the only reason they give. You are no different than us!"
It is a dark time when anyone feels they only receive because of what they give. A king who builds his life around principles of mutual satisfaction and appreciation, and on promissory support labeled love, is in constant danger of such a time.
New Years is a time, much like Spring, to reflect upon the past and make new intentions for the future. And so, it's a time for the Knights of the Round to get together with their King and celebrate their success. They discuss which lands they have conquered and cultivated. Which kingdoms they have made peace with and which are decidedly despicable. It is a time for a King to decide upon new knightings and admire old ones. It is a time to reflect and confirm exiles, and to open the gates to new residents.
Each time I do so, I find that my Camelot is indeed, a thing worthy of Legend. Each of my knights seems more worthy than I, each resident a privilege to have within my city walls. It is no small monument that we build together. It is a thing of splendor. The overcast days are borne bravely, and the sunny ones are lit with laughter. And, as is mimicked (poorly) by business and politics, each reflection brings the reality that tomorrow's dawn will be more magnificent then yesterday's dusk.
Happy New Year.
- Z
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