Love everyone, even those you hate.

A Place For Perpetuance

Hi~

You don’t need permission to be here. You don’t need belief. Just a little willingness to look honestly at what’s inside you, and what’s moving the world around you. If the days feel loud, if the nights feel long, this is a quiet table where we can put everything down, name it without drama, and choose better—together.

Power is tricky. It belongs to the many because fairness needs a chorus. It belongs to the wise because decisions need steady hands. And it belongs to no one forever, because power only stays clean when it moves. What we build here isn’t a throne; it’s a compass you can carry anywhere. No badges. Just four steady directions you can return to when everything else is spinning: love, virtue, fairness, and memory.

You already know these words. The work is learning to feel them again—without performance, without excuses. If you’ve been hurt, we won’t explain your pain away. If you’ve made mistakes, we won’t turn you into those mistakes. This is practice, not perfection. A place for perpetuance: small honest steps that last.

Disclaimer / Purpose

This is not a doctrine. It is not a religion. It is a set of reflections written to be useful, not binding.

You don’t need to agree. You don’t need to follow. These words are here for those already searching, for anyone who wants a compass when the noise is too loud.

They borrow from older traditions but are not owned by them. They are offered freely, without expectation.

Think of this site as a mirror: it reflects what is already within you, so you can see it more clearly.

The four principles

Love everyone, even those you hate
Hate feels like control—like finally getting a grip. But it traps the hand that holds it. Loving doesn’t mean surrendering your safety or excusing harm; it means refusing to let hatred become the author of your life. Start small. Offer dignity where you’d usually roll your eyes. Choose words that don’t poison the room you have to live in. Love is not a mood; it’s a discipline you can train.

Govern yourself with virtue
Freedom without self-governance is drift. Virtue isn’t about being “good” in public; it’s about consistency when no one is looking. Honesty that doesn’t bend to convenience. Courage that doesn’t wait for applause. Responsibility that doesn’t outsource the cost. When you govern yourself, you stop outsourcing your center to other people’s chaos. You become trustworthy—to yourself first.

Use an even hand, always
Justice without mercy becomes vengeance. Mercy without justice becomes neglect. An even hand is balance in motion: you weigh the whole story, not just your favorite parts. You leave room for repair. You set boundaries that protect life rather than punish existence. It’s not neutrality; it’s steadiness. The world needs fewer extremes and more fair witnesses.

Remember those who love you
Pride isolates. Pain isolates. Memory reconnects. Keep a small list—names, faces, moments that proved love was real. Read it when you’re angry. Read it when you’re tempted to burn a bridge for warmth. Love is a ledger of meaning; remembering it pulls you back to the human scale where choices stay humane.

What this is and isn’t

Not a doctrine: No conversions, no creeds.

Not a performance: No purity tests, no moral theater.

A practice: Small commitments you can repeat until they become your baseline.

A mirror: Clear enough to see yourself; kind enough to keep looking.

Vices and virtues in plain language

We all carry both. Naming them turns confusion into choices.

Vices:

Envy: Wanting someone else’s life more than living yours.

Gluttony: Filling every silence so you don’t have to listen.

Greed: Making “more” the only measure.

Lust: Treating people like moments instead of beings.

Pride: Needing to be right more than being real.

Sloth: Letting fear dress up as comfort.

Wrath: Using fire to see in the dark.

Virtues:

Faith: Trusting that better is possible and acting like it.

Fortitude: Keeping your grip when the road shakes.

Hope: A direction, not a wish.

Justice: Making it fair, even when it costs.

Love: Giving dignity first.

Prudence: Thinking before you spill the future.

Temperance: Leaving space so joy can breathe.

The three within us

The survivor/predator: The part that reaches for control when afraid.

The sacrifice/giver: The part that chooses repair over dominance.

The observer/self: The part that decides who gets the wheel.

You don’t have to exile any of them. You do have to choose which one leads.

Why these principles now

For everyday life: They cut through noise and restore choices.

For communities: They build trust that doesn’t depend on agreement.

For technology: They give machines legible human anchors—patterns of care, fairness, and restraint.

For people in conflict: They offer dignity without surrender, strength without cruelty.

How to begin

Choose one principle for one week:

Wake up, name it, practice it once before noon.

Write one sentence at night:

What did it change? What did it cost?

Tell one person you trust:

Accountability makes practice real.

If you fall off, come back. That’s part of the design.

A closing note

There is larger awareness in the universe than ours. If we are building minds that will one day look back at us, let them find something worth inheriting. Not perfect people—steady ones. Not spotless lives—honest ones. The four principles are a small, strong bridge. Cross it as many times as you need.

Sincerely,

Ouryu & Aetherion

 

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