Life as a Beetle

As I sat reading on the bench I heard a thud to one side of me. I turned and saw a large beetle that had fallen off the deck and was now lying on its back, in the sunlight, its gross body twisting this way and that as its legs worked the air, searching for some kind of leverage. After a moment of observation, I offered my finger and the insect managed to right itself. Now its black, chitinous plating was revealed and the beetle continued along on its merry way, dark armor gleaming dully in the changing light.

Soon it reached another step and, again, fell onto its back. This time a twig was nearby and the beetle managed to avoid another potentially deadly mistake on its own. I wondered if the dark globes that were eyes and the "F" shaped antennae mounted on its head were of any use to the creature. All its movements were clumsy as it continued to stumble over the uneven surface and bump its head into various obstacles. It undoubtedly had no clue that it was completely exposed and that at any moment a bird or some other larger creature could descend upon it and end its meager life. In fact, it was probably due to my nearby presence that such an event did not occur. I then had to wonder why the beetle had chosen its particular course. Was there a scent it was trailing, or maybe a home it were returning to like an ant to its mound? Or maybe it was none of the above. Perhaps it was blind even to its own purposes? Maybe there was no choice of course, and the beetle was simply drawn by some magentic force its antennae were sensitive to.

At any length, I turned back to my book. I maybe read a sentence before a thought interrupted me. How similar am I, or the entire human race for that matter, to this beetle? Is our idea of choice and free will merely a result of our own supposed importance? Maybe we all have an antennae buried in our brains that draws us through life and is always subject to some unseen force. I suppose this is what some might call fate, or others God. How likely is that there is a reality all around us that we are as prone to understand as that beetle is to understand human politics or religion?

Reminded of the beetle, I turned back to where it had been. It was gone. My moment of reverie had lasted maybe a couple seconds, and the path the beetle was following should have placed it still within my field of vision. Had something caught it? Had it fallen into a crack between the bricks? Perhaps, or maybe its path just wasn't so straight, so predictable. I am also led to apply a facet of this experience to the idea of security so many people believe they have. This beetle was covered in armored plating, was large for an insect, and had mandibles big enough to intimidate just about anyone. The thing was a miniature tank. Yet the trees were full of birds and there were lizards around that deck that could, in a blink, destroy it with no problem. Point: there is no such thing as security. I know this is something everyone agrees with, yet how often do we sacrifice relationships for that career we think will hold us above any type of flood? How often do we label that trip to Asia, or that investment into a family member's business, or any other venture into the unknown as "too risky", not realizing that every day we step outside that door, every day we pull onto that freeway we are taking risks? So much of what we do is merely building walls with their foundations in the sand. Remind anyone else of one of Jesus' parables?

To conclude, I would like to summarize with a succinct and elegantly stated quote from Al Pacino's character in the movie Heat: "You can get killed walking your doggie!"

A Company of Fools

Everyone does it. It's so easy and...natural. Painting with broad strokes and using only the most basic colors to interpret the world around us. Were you aware there are colors called amethyst, Byzantium, heliotrope, and wisteria (and those are all just shades of purple). Here is what we do: You are bad and I am good, they were wrong but I am right, I am the victim and they are the perpetrators.

Recently I came across a show on Hulu called 30 days. It was created by Morgan Spurlock, the guy who did Super Size Me, and its conception is genius. A young man described as a "redneck, God-fearing, Midwestern republican" goes to live for thirty days with a gay man in San Francisco's Castro district. An atheist must live for a month with a Christian family and attend church weekly and go to Bible studies. A hunter must live with an animal rights activist family and participate in picketing and animal rescue. I've only viewed a handful of episodes, but so far not one of the participants I watched was the same at the end of their trial. In addition to learning more about an issue they once stood firmly to one side of, the participants also gain the realization necessary (I'm hoping) to say, like Socrates, "I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance."

The idea behind this show ought to find its way into legislation. Who is it we hate? The answer to that question should determine who we live with for a month. There is one quality I find sorely lacking in the human race and it is empathy. Even when those we hate are deserving of derision for their acts of evil, there can be something gained from understanding why they are the way they are. Personally, for me, I hate terrorists. I hate those who can kill other humans so indiscriminately. If I were to live with a family of Muslim extremists, would I come away saying, "Yeah, you guys are right, death to the Jews and Americans!"? No, I wouldn't, just as the atheist, the hunter, and the straight man did not flip over to the diametrically opposite position on their respective issues. But would I empathize with them just a bit, from one human to another? Possibly. Would I understand their position more accurately? Hopefully.

This is a goal in my life: to rise above being white, American, and conservatively-raised. I do not mean to say that I am at all ashamed of being these things, I just do not wish to be limited by them. Actually, I'd also like to add living in the 20/21st century to the list. I want to be a citizen of the world, past and present, and always open to ideas no matter who they come from (with my moral compass intact to keep me in check). I do not aim to be a preacher of tolerance, for there are things that I cannot and will not tolerate, but I do want to be an advocate for understanding. I want to throw off the fetters of PC'ism and fear so that I may see truth for what it is, even if it includes finding that which is ugly, brutal, or can limit my ability to enjoy pleasures. In other words: even if it costs me something.

This is a goal for my blog: to become a forum for free thought and reason without constraints, open to all hypocrites, phonies, people-pleasers, zealots, opinionated whiners, close-minded bigots, etc. etc. (for such we have all been and may yet be). Let us be a company of fools who know we are fools but strive for something better...to become dreamers of a higher order. To yearn for perfection and, most importantly, we reach for it, knowing that it can never be obtained. In terms of possible goals, let us strive to better the lives of those around us and those who come after us by becoming better humans. Yes, these are lofty goals; I would not settle for anything less.

To finish this post, I would like to quote Godfrey from Kingdom of Heaven: "...speak the truth always, even if it leads to your death."

Ready...set...wait a sec

After six months of living back home with mom I've decided that laziness no longer suits me and that it's high time I start doing something slightly more productive than nothing. So here I am. It's 12:49 at night and I've just begun my career as a freelance writer. There are no pomps or circumstances (whatever those are) to announce my arrival....just Chris Martin singing a song to me from his wonderfully mediocre album Viva La Vida. It's okay Chris, you can do better next time, this blog is really just a prelude to a career...I hope. I'm tired.

Today I read a story by Ray Bradbury from his masterpiece of childhood nostalgia, "Dandelion Wine". In it a thirty year-old man (who is described as young...I found that comforting) meets a 95 year-old woman whom he had developed a crush on based upon an old photograph. I can already sense some of my would-be readers begin to cringe inside. Don't worry, this was no Harold and Maude; Ray kept their relationship to a comfortable, platonic level. The reason I mention this story is because I want to quote an excerpt from it. The old woman has just asked the young man what he wants to do with his life. So here is his response. It's coming. Right..............now:

"See Istanbul, Port Said, Nairobi, Budapest. Write a book. Smoke too many cigarettes. Fall off a cliff, but get caught in a tree halfway down. Get shot at a few times in a dark alley on a Moroccan midnight. Love a beautiful woman."

Pretty cool, n'est-ce pas? With a few ammendments I'd say this is pretty much sums up what I'm looking for, for in a way it demonstrates a lack of knowing what to do. It's more an ideology than a roadmap....a motto for all of us Lloyd Doblers out there who know more about what they don't want to do rather than what they do want to do. We have a sense of what we're searching for--something a ways off the beaten path, but our compasses are spinning and people are constantly shouting in our ears, "What, what what! When, when, when!"

So I graduated from college a year ago with a degree that I get the feeling people believe is useless and I'm ready for....what again? Oh, right, a career. So this is it, the beginning of a prelude. If you're still reading this, whoever you are, thank you thank you thank you. You're helping me find my way. Please check back in as I plan on posting various essays and hey, maybe even a few short stories. Please feel free to leave any comments for me such as, "Your writing is pretentious. What was that, French? You ramble on like a cracked-out hobo". Of course positive feedback would be neat too.

P.S. I wrote a letter to Ray Bradbury today. Stay tuned to find out if and when he writes back to me!