I visited my old seminary last Friday to deliver a guest lecture and for my weekly fencing meet. I was curious, and found that the old Velenus Cenotaph still stands near the aspen tree grove on the south end of the complex. Much like its namesake, it seems a place largely forgotten because it is not the grandest icon of the campus. The Great Colonnade still draws most students towards Heideran’s Forum for general socializing, and it draws them north and into the center of campus, not towards the southern stand.
However, I always somewhat preferred the Velenus Cenotaph and its little, quiet courtyard. It was a good place for reflection. Not many were about, but it was a fantastic place to eat lunch, pray, and meditate between classes. Spending a bit of time there even this weekend filled me with a relative peace by which to focus and reflect.
The Cenotaph sits in a modest fountain, and is cut from white marble (which rather stands apart from the more rustic finishes that surround it; I think Velenus’s admirer commissioned the cenotaph without having ever seen the courtyard it would be housed in if he even considered the cenotaph itself). I always found that somewhat familiar, being undeniably a part of the surroundings and yet unmistakably different. Intended to draw people to marvel at it, and yet it is so ill-designed to do so.
Still, I appreciate it; it is its very difference and dissonance that made it so pleasing to me. Here, in its unquestionable idiosyncrasy, some few of us found a perfect place. It would have been a lesser seminary without it. And this is undeniably not my opinion alone, as there it still stands. It is maintained daily, its marble still faithfully waxed and restored against weathering even after all the centuries, its waters cleaned and purified, its stone mosaic floor swept free of detritus. It is a place both forgotten, somewhat out of place, and yet necessary and pure.
Is there a place like this for you, where you go to find peace?
I go to my garden, where I have a private shrine. There’s nothing more peaceful than home.
But, I have to say, the feet of the mountains of Caldari Prime are a close second (when weather permits some light hiking). The home, and grave, planet of my father is less painful and more comforting these days thanks to some deep introspection.
There are a few places in my hometown that are great for reflection, in particular the library and the roof of the clan house. There’s just something really serene about being surrounded by shelves and shelves of old books, and the clan house has a nice view of the mountains.
For times when I want to get away and clear my head by focusing on something else, I go hunting around the steppe or near the mountains. It’s the sort of place that’s probably rather boring and plain to visitors, but has special meaning to me.
I’m moving to a new place soon, and I’m hoping I’ll find more spaces like that there.
Actually, I understand this quite well. My family originally hail from a fairly large desert where we still maintain a large holding centered on our family’s ancestral basilica. I suppose few would find beauty in a place that can look so desolate, but there is a quiet serenity to the place. Something primal and ancient, yet with such clean air. Some of the more important niceties of life, water being among them, can be difficult to come by (something we learn not to take for granted), but its scarcity reveals that even those most common things have uncommon beauty when they are gone.
I suppose staring out across a desert from the basilica walls would be a rather boring experience, but I spent hours doing just that in my youth.
I have a few places, depending on where I am. I have an arboretum on one of my facilities with a forest and simulated sky/weather, for example. It’s small, only a few kilometers across in either direction, so not really big enough for an ecosystem… but I’ve been considering investing in a larger facility to do something bigger. Hopefully, with the simulated sky, it’ll help me not be so weirded out by fat asteroids planets.
I also have waterjet hot tubs in my quarters on my capitals. Those are handy for getting away from it all. And, you know, worst-case… I just take a Cheetah into j-space, cloak up, and tune out for a few hours. I can’t do that for too long, of course, or the PTSD starts to kick in, but… it’s gotten better, in the last year or so.
I find peace of mind while walking down the beach near my childhood home (now my own home) on Nishah III the waves of the ocean have always seemed to calm my mind, even in my most troubled times sea back home have always helped me find rest.
But been mostly away from home lately I have found a secound place in one of the gardens inside the keepstar in J5A. But sadly it will never be the same as my home
A great question! And I do have a few. Technically any place will do for meditation, but some places are better than others.
One that I’m most attached to is part of my family’s holdings, hot spring area far away from the hustle and bustle of cities. The place is a fairly ascetic, quiet, good place to relax, and I often go there to swim, clear my head and get my bearings.
I make my due obeisance to your blood and honour, my lord Archbishop.
I find peace, such as may be granted, among the memorials of graveyards and cemeteries. There is a place set aside in a grove far from the Abbey where warriors who have died in glorious service to God are commemorated and sometimes interred. It is a comfort to believe I may earn a place among their number. To wander and contemplate their fate is a precious boon.
Yet the truest place of peace, where the demons of war and death seem at their quietest, is on a far away island. It is a day’s sailing, moated by an endless, shining, sapphire sea, and upon the greensward is erected an ancient megalithic tomb. Long since overgrown, the stones are so ancient there are no markings apparent.
One cannot imagine to what age the interred may belong. Yet their spirit remains upon the island, silent yet somehow speaking in the winds, mighty yet beyond powerless.
The night sky above the trees is utterly clear, strewn with stars of such indescribable beauty and utter remoteness. I have been among them, yet on such nights they are unimaginably alien.
To feel so connected and yet so small. There is peace in such a vision.
My favourite place for reflection is my Palace Gardens on Aidart III. I have spent years on making it the perfect refuge for meditation and since nature is ever evolving there are always new details to enjoy. Alternatively I go to Texel island (not to be confused with New Texel) which is an island close to where I grew up that I spent much time as a child.
Another great way for me to unwind after a long day is to enjoy the Luminaire sunset from the hottub on the deck of Radiant with my beloved @Catherine_Gillot.
I have three places where I seek refuge and time for my own thoughts. From time to time, and if I happen to be close by, I go to the Amarr Legio Basilica. It used to be quite a bustling, busy place, but seems largely forgotten now, tended only by a few priests and acolytes. Yet, it holds many memories for me and it is such a restful place.
The majority of the time I will head to my family’s private chapel. It is a small, private place, but perfect for quite contemplation. I have had much cause to go there recently, to give thanks for the blessings I have been granted.
Above either of these, however, when I am troubled, or I feel the need for solitude, I shall seek to be as close as possible to God, to the wonder that is Creation. It brings such balance and such calm, that is never fails to restore my spirits. I connect to my Magnate, set her out amongst the stars, and find a spot in which to sit, cloaked and alone, to think upon all that was, is, and will be.
There have been times when I could have stayed there forever, but my duties always called me back. Now, of course, an even greater summons guides my return.
My place is…inside a jama blossom. They are huge and papery and various shades of pink, peach, and orange, and they have a faint sweet smell. You can fit your whole head into one of them. Even as adult. We grew them in the fields while I was growing up (they’re used for something medical). I spent a lot of quiet time hiding in a trellis with my head in one of them, listening to birds and thinking about important things. It was very pleasant.
We grew saavice out of necessity for a while before I paid off the loans for my tuition, but now it’s jama again. I go back once in a while but I haven’t put my head in one much. I have been too worried about Gutter Press or some such catching me doing it. (Botanical!)
Anyway. Jama blossom. My peaceful place. <3 I miss it.
There is nothing quite like those old basilicae. They’re no longer fashionable, of course, but they were such integral hubs to their communities. To think of everything that used to happen in those cavernous halls.
My family basilica is still much that way, considering the water situation. Perhaps I could invite you to visit?
As a boy, the tsula plantations near my family’s home always provided a place of refuge. The aromatic scents, clean air, and cool shade were the perfect salve to difficult lessons and childhood heartaches.
I do not know if my family is still permitted near that land or if my nieces and nephews will ever see it as I once did.
But I do wonder if tsula can grow in Republic soil.
There are places that are special to people when they are alone, but there are also places that become special to people when they are with others. The joy in the latter is often in the creation of the memory at the time, as much as the memory itself later on.
