Part of the time I know exactly what I am doing. Unfortunately that part is usually when I’m sleeping. That is why I propose the building of the great machine. This invention will capture your dreams and put them into the world for all to see. It will allow you to put your imagination directly into your audiences’ heads. What is the price of such a miracle? Why only you forfeiting a small part of your soul. The soul is converted through self-doubt and torture into fairy dust to transform dreams into words on a page. Isn’t that a bargain?
Ever wonder if we are not a part of something bigger? By bigger I don’t mean your church or work. That does give one the sense of something bigger, but not big enough. What I am thinking is bigger than being part of a country, or a particular ethnic group. It is probably bigger than the planet and solar system itself.
I am going to use your body for a second to set up what I am thinking about. You are made up of roughly 37.2 trillion cells. That means what makes you you are 37.2 trillion living beings that work together to live in partnership. That partnership allows you to eat, love, and experience life. Now your liver cells might not even know of the cells in your femur. They would be an undiscovered country waiting to be explored, except hopefully your liver cells are homebodies and they stay with the rest of their kind in their segregated neighborhood. So individual cells live, eat, reproduce and die all the time. You don’t notice because as long as the status quo is maintained you just continue to exist.
Now take this model, but expand it to the universe. I’m not trying to initiate anything religious here. I just want you to imagine that you are one cell in something that is much bigger than you. You don’t even need to know what that role is, but what you continue to do would be important. I mean, you could be the appendix of this greater thing, but chances are you wouldn’t be. Now that is quite provocative to me.
The best part is we probably will never know. Much like that liver cell who only knows the environment that surrounds it, so are we if this is true. We might never be able to surmise what role we take part in this community of life. While that saddens me, it does give me one cool thought/hope. If this is the case then life would be abundant throughout the universe, and as such we will find other parts out there. It would be like that liver cell finally deciding to go exploring. I just hope if we do that we don’t become the cancer.
As a writer, the stories are inside and you have to coax them out. There are times when it is hard, they want to stay private. Other times they explode, tearing parts of you apart while you give them life. No matter what, the desire to watch them live and grow is just like that of a parent. The great thing about kids is they eventually live and grow on their own. No matter what you do, short of barbarism, to stop them from becoming their own function humans. Your story is never that way until you hand it to another being. Then and only then do your stories take an identity all their own. They live away from you and in the reader’s mind. As such they move out and grow in a different way. If others take your stories and talk about them with friends, well they multiply again and continue with new lives. The great stories will never die, be them Hamlet, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, or Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. They will live and multiply through reading and discussions until the end of humanity. What writer would not want to know that their stories will live forever? Isn’t that the most we as parents can hope for, to touch on the human conscious and give our children immortality?
Thomas looked at the screen in front of him, not knowing where to go next. Should his hero pursue the woman of his dreams, or the woman he needed? What about the aunt who adopted the hero when he was three, and loves him like a son, but has been pushing him away because she knows she has cancer and doesn’t want to have him see her suffer? What about his boss and the problems he is having with drinking rum and coke to wake up in the morning, but nobody calling attention to it since he is the President of the United States? Or for that matter the cabinet member who happens to be a scout assassin from a race of space beings who are still trying to decide if earth needs to be recycled? So much power as a writer, but should he save his universe or trash it and start with a clean slate and hopefully another big bang of inspiration? Thomas wondered if God was similarly flummoxed at times.
Short post for tonight. Was working on trying to get one of my computers to be happy on the network. This took so long I was left with no time to work on a post for tonight. I tried to write a few things, but I kept going into very dark places very quickly. That left me with a good question. As a writer I try to get inside people’s minds and put their essence onto a written page. This can be fun, but it can also be disturbing. Some of my characters scare me. Some of them make me want to punch them in the face. Others come off as arrogant or untrustworthy. The question is when you visit that place inside of you to find where those characters live, do you bring them closer to the surface? Do they begin stalking your persona, trying to dominate, or threaten your current mindset? I am sure my dark storytelling tonight was because I am tired and I should be going to bed, but since I am tired and ready to go to bed does that leave me more vulnerable for that pace of foulness to come out. Interesting things to dream on. Stay writing my friends.
Is humanity inherently evil? That is a loaded question for sure, but something I thought about today when I saw a blog post about the 100 day anniversary of the abduction of the school girls from Chibok, Borno State, Nigeria. Their cause has been blunted by the news cycle and the attention span of a public that sees a new tragedy daily. I shudder to think of what these girls have gone through, and still face, and it leaves me wanting to either scream or take all my girls up in a big hug then lock them in a room. Why do we do things like this to each other? Why can’t we respect individual differences, may they be in race, religion, sex, or ideals?
That is one of the problems of course. The people who abducted those girls do not see themselves as monsters. They have a way of justifying what they have done. I will not speculate motive, other than the obvious of wanting the girls under their control, but whatever the motivation they see at as doing “right” on some level. Because of this, why do I have the right to condemn them for following their differences in ideals? The answer I hope is obvious. They are imposing their ideals in such a way that it takes away other’s rights to the same.
This is especially true when it comes to kids. These girls have done nothing wrong. They wanted an education and a chance to make something of their journey through this world. They ended up being easy targets. We as a world community are accessories to the crime. We will send troops in for regime change and to restore governments, but why not for restoring humanity? The group holding the girls have a “justification”, but do we for our lack or response? Maybe there are teams on the ground that I do not know about, looking for the girls. Maybe one day soon we will find out about the heroes that went quietly about their job while the world cried out why nothing more is being done. I can only pray for that.
Going back to my original question, are we inherently evil? I would like to answer we are not. I would like to say that the evilness is just seeing the world through distorted lenses, and that maybe the “bad people” can wake up one day and find their humane compassion restored. Days like today, though, I find it hard. Instead of doing something about the missing girls, we will to them slowly decay into history. The additional tragedy of this situation is that I am sure that if we had used ten percent of the intelligence used to stomp out terrorism on this problem, we could have accomplished something meaningful, like the restoration of the young ladies’ freedom. That would have struck a blow against evil and showed our true humanity.