An Admission of the Personal Failings of the Sinner Known as Maraki Zebadee
or
The Reflections of "Quick Feet Zeb" On This Current Time of Crisis
or
A Preliminary Analysis of The Author's Sins Predating Memory Through the Many Lenses Provided By Childcare
Yoshrei, First Day of Rest
As always: damn the autobiographers!
Important to start off on the right foot, they say. You have brought much about in my life since I last wrote my thanks. I am no longer imprisoned - at least not by the shackles wrought by men. Indeed, I am in Nachivan! The Eternal City! It is not what I expected. Holy and yet wicked, rich and yet wretched. I do not understand this place; I doubt anyone does except you, O Wisdom.
I have just departed a bitter sect meeting. For once, it was truly not my fault. Still, the old nicknames are already resurfacing, the murmurs about "Sour Young Zeb". They are valid. You have changed me once again, as is your right. I felt your presence during the escape, my Light, but now I plunge back into darkness. To what end? For a fleeting moment you shaped me into a warrior of the Six-Shin Aluf, and I lived. I felt true joy, for the first time in many years. Then I was pulled back to earth by my own heaviness, to compile this grim catalog of my own failings, my corruption of your gifts. You know them already, of course - these are but notes so that I might reflect. Forgive my informality, Lord.
As a youth, I fell prey to the most dangerous form of curiosity. I wished to see the world - not to discover your Truth, but to serve my own lusts for knowledge and experience. Self-assured and impatient, l paced the streets of Yomri. The restlessness of my feet and mind was so infamous that I became known as "Quicksilver Feet" to my friends of the day, a name I adopted as an honor and bear now as a stain. You merely suppressed this aspect of my nature, but in my pride I thought I had banished it through some power of my own, and now it has returned. I wander these dangerous streets at random, distracted from Your work by the sight of a cat stalking birds or similar trivialities.
Hah, youth. That poor Dyada on the train! The children were jumping on the seats, eating things that should not be eaten - it was horrifying, my King. I intervened, explaining that their disobedience was not the righteous resistance of the faithful but the selfish unruliness of prisoners. They jumped not because it was good, but simply because it was forbidden! I found their counter-argument - that it was actually quite fun - rather unassailable, and so I gained victory by strategem instead. You must be praised for the gift of memory, O Humility: I only needed to recite three of the
Tales of Cold and Pine before they were fast asleep.
I must be doubly thankful because it is this act - your gift - that brought me to Sister Hadar's attention. Forgive her the misdeeds of her wards, O Mercy. She does all she can and yet more, but who could herd such a large flock? Even with what assistance the older children and elders can provide, it is too much for one to carry, and so she approached me to share the burden.
I demurred, of course. I know nothing of children. You have not lent me any to call my own, nor any younger siblings to observe. And yet she persisted in her humility, admiring my 'obvious talent' with children and bemoaning her own 'cluelessness'. I must admit my sinful pride, O Glory, for my cheeks burned and I was most delighted to receive her praise. That was not my glory to claim, not my joy to feel - any talent I may have is another of your finely-worked gifts, and who would accept praise for a gift received?
Besides, the coming weeks would prove how false that praise was.
Man has constructed many idioms around the so-called "innocence" of babies. This illustrates the folly of 'common sense', for babies
bite and
punch and
kick. They are envious and violent and self-absorbed and altogether
nasty, forgiven only because they lack enough power to cause the harm they wish. And they are cute, it is true. Babies and small children are as flawed as any of us - more, even, since they lack the most basic elements of reason - but we think them 'innocent', much like an adorable but disobedient dog is often called a 'good boy' for no apparent reason.
I find this all
fascinating, my God. Despite the vomit and the pain, it has been a deeply enlightening experience. Now that we are settled in Nachivan, I have started to seek work. It is hard to tutor here; the city is full of students, but their minds are full and their pockets empty when the opposite would be far more profitable. And yet failing to find 'real' work gladdens me, for you grant me additional time to observe the children.
And, I admit, to bask in the presence of Sister Hadar. I shall end by praising you for creating such a spirit, O Art, for she is the finest shepherd I have seen. Her teachings are more profound than those of the professors (except you, O Wisdom), and her words capture her audience better than the rhetoricians. The littlest ones love her even more fervently than they hate me, and any fight can be defused through her effortless grace and boundless love. And yet despite her incredible competence in serving others, she is still governed by humility. Whenever I try to praise her, she shies away and pretends to be as useless as I truly am. Despite my unending failures, she displays great joy at my 'assistance' and great - but noble - sadness at the thought that I might find other work.
I do not have the words, O Reason. I have only known her a short time, but I think Hadar to be one of your most beautiful creations. It was you that put the sun in her smile, and my fallen spirit could never muster enough gratitude for that act.
All the same, I thank you.
(OOC: Zeb! is slowly taking over all the functions of my brain, and I felt the desperate need to write something at length about him, so here it is)
