Equilibrium

I traveled to the Monastery again. I once again made my trek up the steps that circled around the mountain, and hiked up to the stone stairs of the sanctuary. The hall hadn’t changed; I had expected Monk to take full control and make the place look nicer. But the torches that lined the hall were still dimly lit. Cobwebs encased the corners and ceilings, and dust caked the tables and the throne.

"How was your journey?" Monk asked from his doorway, his hands held in front of him.

"It was fine." I replied. "Does it ever get cold up here?"

"Why are you here?" He dodged. "Anger is subsided, and Good is back too normal."

"Because I need a favor of you."

"I do not give or receive favors from anyone." He held his hand up, and started to walk back into his

quarters.

"I need you to be the emotion in charge!" I called after him. He stopped, and began to reply without turning back to face me.

"Why is this?"

"After seeing what Anger could do to Good, I can’t take the risk of letting anything else like that happen. Someone needs to be in charge…"

He sighed, and turned around.

"The other emotions will tell you the same thing; that there needs to be someone in charge, someone to take the reins when everything goes inconceivably wrong. I can tell you personally, that that is not how this works."

"Well every time that something like this happens, I’m the one who gets blamed because I let the wrong emotion take control!"

"Enough." He held out his hand. "I will not be the sole emotion to take control, and have a direct influence upon the actions you make; that would give me too large of a voice."

"But what if that’s how I want it to be?" I pleaded. "I want the sanest voice to be the one in charge!"

"I will not take control." He shuffled to his fireplace. "This is my final answer."

I exasperated, and began to walk out of the monastery.

"Although," he started, "I do have a different offer."

"What?”

"I will not take control." He began. "However, I will teach you how to better regulate the emotions that you feel in life, so that you may listen to the perturbed voices, but never give them the power that they crave."

"My thoughts are just a giant power struggle, isn’t it?"

"In the minds of many, yes. Yes, it is."

"But if they’re all just my emotions, why can’t I have better control over who does what?"

"Have you ever thought as to why you never hear anything from Hollow?"

"Now that you mention it, no."

"It’s because you don’t feed him power." He started. "The emotions you feed, are the ones who feed into you, and gradually take control. If you feed the right voices, they will lead you down the path of righteousness. If you feed the wrong voices, you will be led down a path of lies, deceit, treachery, and hatred."

"So just listen to all of Good’s emotions and I’ll be fine?"

"You should listen to them, of course. But never let the voices of evil fall permanently from your mind."

"I don’t understand why?" I questioned, circling around and sitting at the foot of his cot. "Why would listening to them ever be a good thing to do?"

"Listening to the wrong voices and letting them control you will lead you to ruin. But taking into consideration what they have to say will they keep them alive."

"Why keep them alive?!" I shouted. "All this time I’ve been told by Good and Bad themselves that all of this is either Good or Bad!"

"They would be the ones to tell you that," he chuckled, "wouldn’t they?"

I stopped, and sighed. I collected my breath for an apology.

"Life is not a black or white path, choosing between Good and Bad. Almost every choice you make will fall in the area in-between. In life, Good and Bad will lead you down two separate paths. But these paths will not remain separated for ever. Sometimes they will run parallel with one another, and sometimes they will run over each other. And sometimes, they will run together, as the same path."

"So why keep them alive then?" I asked.

"The voices that you hear in your head as you live, tell you what they see." He began, lighting incense in front of the fire. "If you see evil or corruption in the world, it will not be Love, or Could, or Youth telling you about it. It will be Misery, or Would, or the King of Hearts. What do you think will happen if they weren’t there to tell you about these things?"

"I don’t know." I stuttered.

"Without them, you may fall subject to these corruptions." He continued. "They are more than just voices in your ear. They are sirens, alerting you to trouble at every corner. You need to listen to them. There is no other way."

I sighed, and hung my head down.

"You know what you feel.” He sympathized. “You just want to be able to control these emotions."

"Yes."

"I think I can help you achieve this. I just need you to trust me."

"You would think that this wouldn't be that hard of a process..."

"Coming to grips with what person you are is no easy feat." He stated. "Determining to what degree you listen to each emotion is a rigorous process. Each emotion has an opposite. Where one wishes to see you do well in one subject, the other wants to see you perish."

"Like Could and Would?"

"They are an example, yes." He agreed. "Each emotion has an opposite. And the process will teach you how to deal with each one; whether that be to praise their voice and hold it upon a pedestal, or to shut the voice out completely, until the crisis has ended."

"Your offer is to teach me this," I asked, "isn't it?"

"It is indeed."

"So who do we start with?"

"Not yet." He halted.

"I need to start this process now though?" I questioned. "You just told me that."

"You do indeed."

"So why not start it now?"

"Because each session will take a large amount of time." He finally turned around. "And time is not on our sides."

I looked out into the hallway, and the light glowed brighter through the doors and windows.

"Go and rest." He told me. "Go and take on your life. Come back to me when you are ready."

I stood up and walked out into the main hallway. Monk remained in his room, meditating in front of the fire. As I pushed the door open, I could hear weeping from Anger's quarters.

Reach

"You're not going to help me with this at all, are you?" I asked Bad. He sat back in his chair, looking up and down his bookshelf.

"Why should I?" He grumbled. "Isn't this all your problem to sort out?"

"But Anger is with you!" I shouted, making him jump.

"Look." He explained, turning to me. "There's a part of me that wants to go do something about this, because there is some unholy and unnatural thing about Anger being in control. But there's this other part of me that really enjoys seeing you like this. And you know what? That part wins."

"Can you at least tell me who can help me?"

"None of mine." He pursed his lips. "Maybe go talk to Love and see what she has to say."

I got up and left his house, without giving him a second glance. I walked until I hit the pink house, and Love was sitting on her porch, nursing her still unhealed wounds.

"Let me guess," she started without looking up at me, "Bad won't help you in any way, shape, or form so you're coming to me for help?"

"You're so good at this..." I sighed.

"What makes you think I can help you?" She glared, motioning at her wounds.

"Could you at least point me in a direction to go?" I begged. "Because I have no idea where to start with this."

"This seems like it's going to be something you're going to have to deal with on your own." She said, looking down the street. "You're going to have to go up to the monastery and deal with it yourself."

"I don't think I can do it by myself."

"Well it seems like every time you have the wild hair up your ass to do something, someone else gets sucked into everything!" She snapped, whipping back to look at me. "So I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you did it on your own!"

She was right. But I could see a fire burning in her eyes. Maybe Anger is up to something again? I thought. I walked down her driveway and back down the street, leaving her to her own accord. I looked past the town and up the mountain. The summit was still covered in a thick layer of clouds. I sighed, and began my trek up the mountain.

*   *   *   *   *

The clouds fogged my vision, I couldn't see the monastery until I nearly walked into the wooden door. I hesitated before pushing it open. The handle was warm, and a faint rumbling could be heard from inside. I pushed the door open. A dark, ruby orb was hovering above the throne at the far end of the main hall, emitting the subdued rumbling. The left entryway to Anger's domain had been blocked by snow white gate with golden ornaments. The right entryway now had a door, with the same light shining through its opening. Good sat on the throne. His eyes were closed. His suit had been torn and shredded, and it was stained red in spots. I began to walk down the hallway, but Good's eyes shot open, and he began to float above his seat.

"You are not welcome here!" He screamed, the orb glowing brighter and getting louder. His eyes were glazed over. He wasn't himself. I could hear Anger cackling from beyond his gate. I turned and ran towards Monk's door, and slammed it shut behind me. The rumbling faded instantly.

Monk sat cross-legged in front of his fire. There was a rose to his left, and a knife to his right. In front of him was metal bowl that held three, smoking incense sticks. 

"I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to come here." He announced without turning his attention.

"It took me a while to realize what I needed to do."

"And what is that?"

"Come up here and fix the problem?" I stuttered. He tilted his head, and then rose to his feet.

"To find the solution to the problem," he began, walking over to his cot, "you must first find the root of the problem."

"Anger is now in charge." I told him. "And I need to fix it."

"And why is Anger in charge?" He pursued. "Why is he doing what he is to Good?"

"I don't know." I pursed.

"Good's mind has been shrouded by a cloud that originates from Anger." He explained, resting at the foot of his cot. "What I mean to ask, is why this cloud is here?"

I stopped short of answering. The fire still cracked to my left, and the rumbling persisted from behind me. 

"You are letting Anger take control of your thinking." He asserted. "In every aspect of your life, you are letting him take control."

"So how do I fix it?"

"Make sure he isn't in control." I could hear him smile.

"I don't know how to do that."

"With every problem that occurs in your life, there are a multitude of ways to solve them." He continued. "The way in which you solve problems is with him. If you change the way in which you solve problems, you will change the way you walk through life. And this means that he will no longer be the one in control."

I drew in a breath, but stopped as he motioned to the fire. He led me to where he was meditating, and held out his hand for me to sit down.

"While there are many ways in which to solve a problem, there are only two before you." He stated, walking back to his cot. "Pick one."

"Pick one what?" I pleaded, turning back to face him. 

"One solution." He replied as he laid down. He openly held his hands to his sides. I looked down, and the rose and the knife still sat there. I moved them in front of me, one on each side of the metal bowl. I began to grab for the knife, but I hesitated.

"I understand your trepidation." He answered from his bed. "It takes a lot for one to reach into their own soul, and change the way in which we live."

I hesitated once more, my eyes darting back and forth between the bright red rose, and the gold hilted knife. The rose still had beads of water on the outside of its petals. The knife had Chinese lettering, etched into the length of the blade.

"What do I do when I make a decision?" I asked aloud.

"You leave this room and face your problem." He announced, still laying down on his bed.

I grabbed the stem of the rose, and rolled it in my hands. Its thorns receded into itself, and it bloomed further. The stem grew and wrapped itself around my arm, sprouting full blooms as it went. I got up and reached for the door, my arm covered in scarlet blossoms.

"Excellent decision." He breathed, getting back up to continue his meditation in front of the fire. "I do believe that you should come up here more often."

I smiled as I rested my hand on the handle, and nodded. I pushed the door open, and closed it behind me.

Good woke up once more, and glared at me as he rose out of his chair.

"I thought you had left." He smirked.

"This isn't who you are." I declared, walking at a steady pace up to him. "You are listening to the words of Anger."

"These words are my own!" He screamed, slamming his fists down on the throne, rattling the entire building. 

"I'm here to strip you of your power."

"You will do no such thing!" Anger screamed from behind his gate. I turned and held my hand up to the gate, and the gate collapsed, and the door in front of Monk's room broke down. The lights in the building roared to life, even illuminating the dark quarters of Angers home. I turned back to Good, and held out the first rose to him. He floated back down to the ground, and grabbed it with his index finger and thumb. A wind tore outside the monastery, blowing the clouds off into the distance. Good's eyes returned to normal, and he walked out the main door to make his way down the mountain. The red orb shook violently, and then shattered as Anger screamed in despair.

Monk stood in the entryway of his quarters, and Anger kneeled down in his. I stood before the marble throne and peered at the two of them, as they glanced at each other. Anger pulled himself up to his feet, and shuffled back into his room, defeated. Monk turned to me and nodded. I began to walk out of the monastery, a bright white light peering through the door's edges.

"I expect you back here in the near future." He beamed, taking his incense up to the throne. I smiled with my eyes closed, and pushed the door open.