The Knight

“It’s like a knight in shining armor from a long time ago.
Just in time I will save the day.
Take you to my castle far away.”

Lyrics from “Glory of Love” By Peter Cetera

The knight stands with sword in one hand and the reins to his steed in the other looking out on the landscape toward the setting sun. He is not really looking at anything in particular. He is more so looking within himself and contemplating a time long gone.

There once was a time when he fought fierce beasts and other forms of evil. He saved many damsels in distress. He was hailed as a hero then. He was wanted and needed. He has trained all his life to become what he was. At worst he suffered and sacrificed through rain, lack of food, the mud and the cold. At best he was lauded and praised for his talents and strength. People looked at him with awe and flowers were thrown at his feet. He ate well at those times. And had good friends. Most were dead now. Only a few like him remained. Things are different now, times are different.

They say that change is the only constant.

When those words become your reality what do you do?

When there are no more dragons to slay what’s next?

Where do old knights go when they are no longer needed?

When the damsel in distress is now a “Joan of Arc” and can fend for herself, what purpose does the knight now have?

The distress is now upon the knight. He has fought many foes but the one he is facing now is the toughest one he has ever encountered.

This is an enemy from within.

The enemy is his very ego.

This enemy has been growing and forming right before him and he did not even see it coming.

All the assumptions and lies he was programming to believe became his personal relative truths that solidified into a hard layer that is tougher and more fortified than his shining armor he wore in battle. When not in battle he wore the shiny armor with great pride. “Look at me! Look at what I have done!” Now people look at him and feel pity and sadness for him for the armor is now a prison.

His ego, pride and boasting of past conquests now come off as a plea for recognition.

How heavy his armor is now. Not dazzling in its brilliance as it once was, it is now worn and hangs loosely on his old and tired frame.

He stands beside his horse unable to don the saddle anymore. He takes all the battle gear and adornments off the steed.

The Chafron, crinet, saddle steel and brayette.

The crupper and bridle and armored reins.

All of it is removed until the horse is bare.

He gives his steed one last nose rub before slapping it on the rear end sending it on its way toward freedom.

Slowly he does the same with himself. Normally he requires help when donning and doffing the heavy gear. He manages to remove the burdensome and cumbersome pieces. The knight feels that this is something he has to do alone….one last time.

First, he removes the helmet.

Then the gauntlets from his hands and the vambraces underneath.

The cowters from the elbows and upper arm rerebraces are next.

Pauldrons on the shoulders and gorget around the neck are removed with ease since he can bend his arms.

Fauld around his waist, the cuisses on his thighs, the poleyns at the knees, greave and sabatons at the lower legs and feet are last.

One by one the pieces fall to the ground with a heavy thud. With each piece that is removed he feels lighter…freer.

His sword is last.

This blade and hilt have been a part of his hand and arm for as long as he can remember. So much blood was spilt in the name of the king, in the name of justice, in the name of honor. His need for his trusty sword died when his own usefulness became obsolete.

He holds the sword in both hands and looks at it one last time, then turns the blade toward the ground and with a swiftness forces it downward into the earth as far as it will go. He says in a barely audible whisper, "Goodbye old friend”.

The sword and each piece of his armor hold a lifetime full of memories.

How will he win the battle against this great foe called the ego?

He will win by realizing there is no battle at all.

He will win not by surrendering but by acceptance.

Now he will start the great unlearning.

All the training, all the hardship, all the praise, all the blame, all doubt, all attachments. Everything. He lets it all go.

After the doffing of his armor, he sits on a nearby boulder jutting out of the ground and inhales deeply and lets it out. The wind feels good on his armor less skin. Cool, refreshing.

Twilight is upon the land now. The colors are amazing. The purple bleeds into the red and orange. Soon dusk will follow to swallow the land leaving everything in complete darkness.

He looks again out at the landscape before him,

then further into the great distance,

then up into the expanse of heavens.

And finally, he sees his true authentic self.