Ray Foy's Blog, page 16
November 4, 2012
after the storm
This time last week, the country was anticipating Hurricane Sandy's arrival in the northeast, welcomed by two cold fronts and high tides that promised much damage and misery. Now Sandy has come and gone, but she lived up to her potential. That could be seen in the videos of the hurricane coming onshore, and of the flooding and wind damage that followed. The Weather Channel summed it up on their website:
Though New York and New Jersey bore the brunt of the destruction, at its peak, the storm reached 1,000 miles across, killed more than 100 people in 10 states, knocked out power to 8.5 million and canceled nearly 20,000 flights. More than 12 inches of rain fell in Easton, Md., and 34 inches of snow fell in Gatlinburg, Tenn. Property losses were estimated at at least $20 billion, putting the storm among the most expensive disasters in the U.S.
The 34 inches of snow in Tennessee struck me. So did the "1,000 miles across." As I said in my last journal entry, though Hurricane Sandy is being described as a "superstorm," and it was big and bad, it was not nearly of the magnitude described for the superstorm in The Coming Global Superstorm or The Day After Tommorrow where it is described as covering most of the northern hemisphere.
Still, it may be that we've found a new term for the popular lexicon that refers to a kind of storm that is simply greater in magnitude in intensity, geographical extent, and effects (e.g., rain, snow, flood, fire, all from the same storm). By this definition, Sandy certainly was a superstorm. I expect we'll hear the term applied more often now, especially over the winter.
Another after-effect of the storm, that should be taken careful note of, is the gasoline shortage. The Weather Channel says:
Among the biggest lingering challenges Saturday was the gas shortage. Bloomberg said that resolving it could take days. Lines curled around gas stations for many blocks all over the stricken region, including northern New Jersey, where Gov. Chris Christie imposed rationing that recalled the worst days of fuel shortages of the 1970s. Queues of honking cars, frustrated drivers and people on foot carrying containers were just the latest testament to the misery unleashed by Sandy.
I experienced this kind of misery firsthand after Hurricane Katrina passed through my hometown. Gasoline was in short supply for the following week. There was an "underground" communications channel that alerted its members to arrivals of gasoline at the local stations at any time of the day or night. I remember my wife getting a phone call at about 2:00am from a friend who told her there would be gasoline at a particular convenience store within the hour. We hurriedly dressed and drove our vehicles, each with less than a quarter of fuel in the tanks, to the store and joined the line that reached around the block. The gas arrived and we got our share.
This just emphasizes our civilization's dependence on fossil fuels that we take for granted until we can't get it--especially in areas where public transportation is negligible. Even then, there is a disconnect between recognizing this dependency and our lack of backup, and coping in those times when the energy infrastructure breaks down. Our ruling elites can be nonsensical, even cruel, in such times. I was also struck with an article on the Socialist Worker website that reported:
Mayor Bloomberg ordered all city workers--including non-essential personnel--to come to work on Monday and Tuesday, even though the public transit system and the majority of bridges and tunnels were shut down. And if you didn't show up, Bloomberg threatened to dock your pay.
During the Katrina-induced gasoline shortage in my town, the workers at my job also had to show up and were simply told to carpool. Whether or not we were actually needed, that attitude shows an amazing denial of the tightrope our high-tech civilization walks. It also shows that for widespread fossil-fuel-based energy shortages and outages, there is no Plan B.
Our friends Rocko and Stephanie live northeast of New York in Rhode Island. They say they never lost their electricity and fared well. I don't know how the gasoline shortages are affecting them, but they are grateful to have (literally) weathered the storm.
Donna and I have had our storms to weather as well this week. We're in the process of buying a house (a foreclosure we are repairing) and have had to deal with all kinds of corporate difficulties and technocalities. Of course, every time I've bought or sold a house, I've nearly given up in despair over the process. I may expound on this in a future journal entry.
On a more positive note, I've pretty much pulled together the first issue of the newsletter I will put out in the next couple of weeks. It will be called The Dentville Stories Newsletter and will provide background on the characters, settings, and situations for my novel-in-the-works ( Dentville: The Ancients' Legacy ; see the Dentville tab for the webpage). Please watch for the newsletter's debut and I hope you'll subscribe to it. It's free.
Though New York and New Jersey bore the brunt of the destruction, at its peak, the storm reached 1,000 miles across, killed more than 100 people in 10 states, knocked out power to 8.5 million and canceled nearly 20,000 flights. More than 12 inches of rain fell in Easton, Md., and 34 inches of snow fell in Gatlinburg, Tenn. Property losses were estimated at at least $20 billion, putting the storm among the most expensive disasters in the U.S.
The 34 inches of snow in Tennessee struck me. So did the "1,000 miles across." As I said in my last journal entry, though Hurricane Sandy is being described as a "superstorm," and it was big and bad, it was not nearly of the magnitude described for the superstorm in The Coming Global Superstorm or The Day After Tommorrow where it is described as covering most of the northern hemisphere.
Still, it may be that we've found a new term for the popular lexicon that refers to a kind of storm that is simply greater in magnitude in intensity, geographical extent, and effects (e.g., rain, snow, flood, fire, all from the same storm). By this definition, Sandy certainly was a superstorm. I expect we'll hear the term applied more often now, especially over the winter.
Another after-effect of the storm, that should be taken careful note of, is the gasoline shortage. The Weather Channel says:
Among the biggest lingering challenges Saturday was the gas shortage. Bloomberg said that resolving it could take days. Lines curled around gas stations for many blocks all over the stricken region, including northern New Jersey, where Gov. Chris Christie imposed rationing that recalled the worst days of fuel shortages of the 1970s. Queues of honking cars, frustrated drivers and people on foot carrying containers were just the latest testament to the misery unleashed by Sandy.
I experienced this kind of misery firsthand after Hurricane Katrina passed through my hometown. Gasoline was in short supply for the following week. There was an "underground" communications channel that alerted its members to arrivals of gasoline at the local stations at any time of the day or night. I remember my wife getting a phone call at about 2:00am from a friend who told her there would be gasoline at a particular convenience store within the hour. We hurriedly dressed and drove our vehicles, each with less than a quarter of fuel in the tanks, to the store and joined the line that reached around the block. The gas arrived and we got our share.
This just emphasizes our civilization's dependence on fossil fuels that we take for granted until we can't get it--especially in areas where public transportation is negligible. Even then, there is a disconnect between recognizing this dependency and our lack of backup, and coping in those times when the energy infrastructure breaks down. Our ruling elites can be nonsensical, even cruel, in such times. I was also struck with an article on the Socialist Worker website that reported:
Mayor Bloomberg ordered all city workers--including non-essential personnel--to come to work on Monday and Tuesday, even though the public transit system and the majority of bridges and tunnels were shut down. And if you didn't show up, Bloomberg threatened to dock your pay.
During the Katrina-induced gasoline shortage in my town, the workers at my job also had to show up and were simply told to carpool. Whether or not we were actually needed, that attitude shows an amazing denial of the tightrope our high-tech civilization walks. It also shows that for widespread fossil-fuel-based energy shortages and outages, there is no Plan B.
Our friends Rocko and Stephanie live northeast of New York in Rhode Island. They say they never lost their electricity and fared well. I don't know how the gasoline shortages are affecting them, but they are grateful to have (literally) weathered the storm.
Donna and I have had our storms to weather as well this week. We're in the process of buying a house (a foreclosure we are repairing) and have had to deal with all kinds of corporate difficulties and technocalities. Of course, every time I've bought or sold a house, I've nearly given up in despair over the process. I may expound on this in a future journal entry.
On a more positive note, I've pretty much pulled together the first issue of the newsletter I will put out in the next couple of weeks. It will be called The Dentville Stories Newsletter and will provide background on the characters, settings, and situations for my novel-in-the-works ( Dentville: The Ancients' Legacy ; see the Dentville tab for the webpage). Please watch for the newsletter's debut and I hope you'll subscribe to it. It's free.
October 28, 2012
Fiction Becoming Fact?
As I write this, Hurricane Sandy is approaching the US northeast coast and the media is referring to it as a "superstorm." This is funny, considering the ridicule heaped on Whitley Strieber and Art Bell when they published The Coming Global Superstorm back in 2004. Even when the book was made into a movie, The Day After Tomorrow, the possibility of such an overnight climate-changing scenario was pooh-poohed. Now the pooh-poohers are using the term from Strieber and Bell's book to describe the massive weather system verged to break records for storm destruction.And they have good reason. The dynamics of the storm system are evolving like a scene from the book/movie. The hurricane, it's intensity driven by the warm waters of the lower latitudes, will maintain that intensity even in the colder northern waters as it transforms to an extratropical storm that is driven by temperature differentials in the atmosphere. It will be sucked inland by an approaching wintry system coming from the west, and with which it will collide. At the same time, frigid air falling from Canada will join the mix and further intensify the storm. Even now, the satellite photos are scary.
The dark cherry on top comes from the fact that we have a full moon now, meaning the tides are at their full height. This will increase the storm surges which are predicted to be from eight to ten feet along the coast of Rhode Island. Block Island must be all but abandoned right now (see my journal entry for 28-Aug-2011 Time in New England).
So it looks like this storm will be bad, with officials estimating damages in the billions of dollars, but I don't believe this will the climate-changing event. It could be another significant step in that direction, though. Articles in the world press (but not the US mainstream press) support this idea along with the majority of climate scientists. I'll note a few of them, with Internet links, in the newsletter I'll be launching in a few weeks.
The world I describe in Dentville: The Ancients' Legacy is a result of the superstorm scenario. In this scenario, the superstorm is a worldwide killer of civilization. It dissipates the energy built from centuries of global warming and leaves the earth in an ice age. The surviving humans cluster around the earth's middle latitudes.
While I don't expect the next ice age to start this coming week, it will be rough for our friends, Rocko and Stephanie, in Rhode Island. Hunker down, guys, with enough food, water, firewood and firewater, to get you through the storm.
And let us know you're all right when it's all over.
See this article on weather.com.
October 14, 2012
Turning a new page
I've mentioned my Dentville novel project a few times in this journal, and it was the theme for two recent entries ("Creativity" and "Tree Farming"). This is another one. I'm also launching the book's nascent web page today as part of this site. Click on the Dentville tab to see it.
The story of Dentville will be an amalgamation of a number of studies I've pursued over the past years, as well as some classic themes that have stirred ever me since I could read. It will be an ecological story with the idea that humanity is destroying its only home in deluded abandon. I believe that current trends in climate change, fossil fuel depletion, and social-political contractions bear this out. This is also a subject that I'm pondering as the theme for a revamped newsletter, but I haven't decided on that yet. Even so, it has infused my other works and will do so for this one.
At the same time, I'm a long time fan of the hero's journey. From the Lord of the Rings, to Star Wars, to Dune, to the story of David in the Bible, I've been fascinated with stories based on the development of the protagonist from naive youth to eager seeker to seasoned veteran. That's a classic theme that comes out of people's journeys through life. We all follow this road. We develop and learn from it, or we give up. Giving up is a strong temptation and I have a few times. But something has always pulled me back into the journey--the love of my soulmate, love of children, the gut feeling that it is always better for life to go on. These feelings will infuse Dentville.
And as I develop this story to be realized in novel form, I hope to chart my progress in these journal entries and on the Dentville page. I have expanded the story greatly from the original work I did for the novel-writing correspondence course I took some years ago (see Long Ridge Writer's Group). I've done a lot of character work and am currently working on research, timelines and backgrounds. Then I'll be storyboarding which is the precursor to drafting. That's all a lot easier to say than it is to do.
I want to finish it all over the coming year (yes, that is ambitious since I can't do this full time), and to launch that journey I've created the Dentville page on this website. It will be a teaser for the novel and a revelation of my vision as the muse sings. As I pondered over the format for this page, I knew I had to have a strong illustration to build it around. Prose, no matter how eloquent, would not be enough. Clip-art and no-royalty photos were inadequate, and I couldn't afford to hire actors, so I looked for an artist.
After some searching, the muse led me to Debra Grayson's New Day Project website. I contacted Debra and gave her my specifications for the image I wanted to convey the spirit of the story. She returned the wonderful picture on the Dentville page. It shows my protagonist, Zane, on horseback, riding through the crumbled ruins of our world--a world he only imagines with superstitious awe. Such was the thoroughness of the demise of our high-tech world that Zane doesn't realize that the people he considers near-gods and refers to as "the ancients" lived a mere two hundred years before him. He rides through his world among the remains of ours towards a sunrise, or maybe it's a sunset. Is humanity recovering from its near-extinction, or continuing down the dark path to its fatal end? Even in Zane's time, that remains to be seen.
Thanks for a great picture, Debra. Thanks to those of you following this website and the Dentville project. Here we go...
See Debra Grayson's artwork at New Day Project .
The story of Dentville will be an amalgamation of a number of studies I've pursued over the past years, as well as some classic themes that have stirred ever me since I could read. It will be an ecological story with the idea that humanity is destroying its only home in deluded abandon. I believe that current trends in climate change, fossil fuel depletion, and social-political contractions bear this out. This is also a subject that I'm pondering as the theme for a revamped newsletter, but I haven't decided on that yet. Even so, it has infused my other works and will do so for this one.
At the same time, I'm a long time fan of the hero's journey. From the Lord of the Rings, to Star Wars, to Dune, to the story of David in the Bible, I've been fascinated with stories based on the development of the protagonist from naive youth to eager seeker to seasoned veteran. That's a classic theme that comes out of people's journeys through life. We all follow this road. We develop and learn from it, or we give up. Giving up is a strong temptation and I have a few times. But something has always pulled me back into the journey--the love of my soulmate, love of children, the gut feeling that it is always better for life to go on. These feelings will infuse Dentville.
And as I develop this story to be realized in novel form, I hope to chart my progress in these journal entries and on the Dentville page. I have expanded the story greatly from the original work I did for the novel-writing correspondence course I took some years ago (see Long Ridge Writer's Group). I've done a lot of character work and am currently working on research, timelines and backgrounds. Then I'll be storyboarding which is the precursor to drafting. That's all a lot easier to say than it is to do.
I want to finish it all over the coming year (yes, that is ambitious since I can't do this full time), and to launch that journey I've created the Dentville page on this website. It will be a teaser for the novel and a revelation of my vision as the muse sings. As I pondered over the format for this page, I knew I had to have a strong illustration to build it around. Prose, no matter how eloquent, would not be enough. Clip-art and no-royalty photos were inadequate, and I couldn't afford to hire actors, so I looked for an artist.
After some searching, the muse led me to Debra Grayson's New Day Project website. I contacted Debra and gave her my specifications for the image I wanted to convey the spirit of the story. She returned the wonderful picture on the Dentville page. It shows my protagonist, Zane, on horseback, riding through the crumbled ruins of our world--a world he only imagines with superstitious awe. Such was the thoroughness of the demise of our high-tech world that Zane doesn't realize that the people he considers near-gods and refers to as "the ancients" lived a mere two hundred years before him. He rides through his world among the remains of ours towards a sunrise, or maybe it's a sunset. Is humanity recovering from its near-extinction, or continuing down the dark path to its fatal end? Even in Zane's time, that remains to be seen.
Thanks for a great picture, Debra. Thanks to those of you following this website and the Dentville project. Here we go...
See Debra Grayson's artwork at New Day Project .
October 7, 2012
Tree Farming
My idea for a post-apocalyptic novel called, "Dentville," came to me some five years ago when I was looking for a story to tell as part of a novel-writing correspondence course I was taking. It was an accumulation of impressions from my favorite books and movies (Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, etc) coupled with my readings on peak oil, civilization collapse, and climate change that I applied to the structures of storytelling I had been studying. I developed the idea over the year-and-a-half course of the course and though I left it at times, I never dropped it.
I have written drafts, synopses, backgrounds, timelines, outlines, diagrams, and drawn maps in the years since. I've written about 10 chapters of the story as it evolved, though none will make it to the final manuscript in their present form.
In this time, I've continued my study of storytelling, taken other courses, written short stories, one short YA novel (as an ebook), and created a website. It's been a continued evolution with the aim of creating Dentville. Late last year, I decided to take a hiatus from Dentville and write a novelization of Madam President. I worked on that until around April, when I was getting lost in the political aspects of the story and felt like it required more knowledge of the US presidential election process and the mechinizations of world power than I had. Besides, Dentville was calling so I turned back to it.
I also found a method for novel development that I began using on my previous work on Dentville and it really got me moving on the project again. I'm committed now and will try to get the book done over the next year. I am also working on my website and intend to include a page on Dentville that I hope will create some anticipation for the book. It will develop as I develop the story.
Trees take years to mature. In the years since I planted my acorn, it's sprouted and grown until it at least looks like a tree. With continued care and nurturing, I'm striving to see it become an oak.
I have written drafts, synopses, backgrounds, timelines, outlines, diagrams, and drawn maps in the years since. I've written about 10 chapters of the story as it evolved, though none will make it to the final manuscript in their present form.
In this time, I've continued my study of storytelling, taken other courses, written short stories, one short YA novel (as an ebook), and created a website. It's been a continued evolution with the aim of creating Dentville. Late last year, I decided to take a hiatus from Dentville and write a novelization of Madam President. I worked on that until around April, when I was getting lost in the political aspects of the story and felt like it required more knowledge of the US presidential election process and the mechinizations of world power than I had. Besides, Dentville was calling so I turned back to it.
I also found a method for novel development that I began using on my previous work on Dentville and it really got me moving on the project again. I'm committed now and will try to get the book done over the next year. I am also working on my website and intend to include a page on Dentville that I hope will create some anticipation for the book. It will develop as I develop the story.
Trees take years to mature. In the years since I planted my acorn, it's sprouted and grown until it at least looks like a tree. With continued care and nurturing, I'm striving to see it become an oak.
September 30, 2012
Hot Gates and Website Updates
I just posted a review of Steven Pressfield's Gates of Fire on Good Reads. This historical novel is one of my favorites. It recounts the ancient battle of Thermopylae fought a delaying action against some hundreds of thousands invading Persians. They held on through three days of fighting to the last man.
As with the battle of the Alamo, Thermopylae is remembered in military history as a delaying action within the context of a larger war. The heorism of the defenders fighting in the face of certain loss for the sake of an eventual victory they won't live to see is the common point between the two battles, though it probably closer to the truth with Thermopylae.
I like the novel for the educational value of its historical context, its depiction of the brutality of ancient warfare, and for its compelling characters. It's also interesting in the larger points it touches on. That is, things that are inherently bad, but that most people seem drawn towards: professional armies, hierarchy, chain-of-command, and "might makes right."
Pressfield is very good at weaving personal stories through the timeline of ancient events, much as Jeff Shaara does with the American Civil War. I highly recommend the book.
If you're a regular reader of my journal, you'll notice that I've revamped my website. I wanted it to be leaner and more to the point of promoting my storytelling, so I pared down the excess. I also wanted to make room for other features like a revamped newsletter and a page for Dentville (my novel-in-the-works).
I have a lot going on right now that makes it hard to be a consistant with these journal entries as I would like. I hope you'll bear with me for better things to come.
You can find my review of Gates of Fire here.
As with the battle of the Alamo, Thermopylae is remembered in military history as a delaying action within the context of a larger war. The heorism of the defenders fighting in the face of certain loss for the sake of an eventual victory they won't live to see is the common point between the two battles, though it probably closer to the truth with Thermopylae.
I like the novel for the educational value of its historical context, its depiction of the brutality of ancient warfare, and for its compelling characters. It's also interesting in the larger points it touches on. That is, things that are inherently bad, but that most people seem drawn towards: professional armies, hierarchy, chain-of-command, and "might makes right."
Pressfield is very good at weaving personal stories through the timeline of ancient events, much as Jeff Shaara does with the American Civil War. I highly recommend the book.
If you're a regular reader of my journal, you'll notice that I've revamped my website. I wanted it to be leaner and more to the point of promoting my storytelling, so I pared down the excess. I also wanted to make room for other features like a revamped newsletter and a page for Dentville (my novel-in-the-works).
I have a lot going on right now that makes it hard to be a consistant with these journal entries as I would like. I hope you'll bear with me for better things to come.
You can find my review of Gates of Fire here.
September 9, 2012
Blending Waters
Today, Donna and I took part in a ceremony known by the practioners as the "blending of the waters," where members of the group share their journeying in life and over the planet by pouring water collected during their trips into a single chalice. Much of the water-pouring was symbolic, though some brought actual water from afar (being aware of the ritual before their departures). All shared what the made their trips special to them.
This little ceremony's theme was a good followup to my last journal entry were I wrote about life's journey as inspired by reading Shirley MacLaine's, The Camino (you can read my review of it here). I even contributed a bit to the ceremony with a bottle of water from Oxford, Mississippi.
That little vessel of water was meaningful for my family because it symoblized our sons' passage out of childhood. They literally went right out of high school to the University with no break, and embarked on a study of the Mandarin Chinese language that lead them to a two month stay in China the next year. That year, and the one following, revealed an astonishing maturity in them that makes them such fine young men today. They are still growing, of course, as is their mother and I, pursuing the Great Journey, but I thank our spirit guides for this affirmation of being on the right track.
Of course, all journeying is not physical travel--probably the most important journeys are accomplished inside our own skins. Even in these, there are twists and turns, restarts, and doubts about our destination. In navigating our spiritual way, which has its own perils, I think we need to hear the voice of the "road" that wants to lead us the right way, take heart from our companions, and listen to our guides.
I've tried to do this in my work here, which is built on my story-writing that I've mentioned so much, and especially with my developing novel. I mentioned before how I had lost my way on it, but then I found an inspiration to keep me going from a methodology for novel-writing called the "snowflake" method by Randy Ingermanson. It provided me with some writing discipline that pulled me in from the wilderness and put me back on track. So I've proceeded with the creative work and hope in the near future to create a page on my website dedicated to the new novel ("Dentville").
So I take from all this that we are all on our journeys, taking meaning from the journey itself while being encouraged by those we love and by our guides, if we're sensitive to them.
Here's hoping you are. Let's go.
This little ceremony's theme was a good followup to my last journal entry were I wrote about life's journey as inspired by reading Shirley MacLaine's, The Camino (you can read my review of it here). I even contributed a bit to the ceremony with a bottle of water from Oxford, Mississippi.
That little vessel of water was meaningful for my family because it symoblized our sons' passage out of childhood. They literally went right out of high school to the University with no break, and embarked on a study of the Mandarin Chinese language that lead them to a two month stay in China the next year. That year, and the one following, revealed an astonishing maturity in them that makes them such fine young men today. They are still growing, of course, as is their mother and I, pursuing the Great Journey, but I thank our spirit guides for this affirmation of being on the right track.
Of course, all journeying is not physical travel--probably the most important journeys are accomplished inside our own skins. Even in these, there are twists and turns, restarts, and doubts about our destination. In navigating our spiritual way, which has its own perils, I think we need to hear the voice of the "road" that wants to lead us the right way, take heart from our companions, and listen to our guides.
I've tried to do this in my work here, which is built on my story-writing that I've mentioned so much, and especially with my developing novel. I mentioned before how I had lost my way on it, but then I found an inspiration to keep me going from a methodology for novel-writing called the "snowflake" method by Randy Ingermanson. It provided me with some writing discipline that pulled me in from the wilderness and put me back on track. So I've proceeded with the creative work and hope in the near future to create a page on my website dedicated to the new novel ("Dentville").
So I take from all this that we are all on our journeys, taking meaning from the journey itself while being encouraged by those we love and by our guides, if we're sensitive to them.
Here's hoping you are. Let's go.
August 19, 2012
Miles To go
I've always been a fan of "journey" stories. In grade school one of my favorite books was a children's version of The Odyssey (and as an adult I equally enjoyed Homer's version; Hey Hollywood: It's time for a serious remake of the Ulysses Kirk Douglas classic), as a teenager I was impressed with the travelogue aspects of Gulliver's Travels, and as a young man I was enthralled with The Lord of the Rings (eagerly awaiting Peter Jackson's take on The Hobbit at the end of this year). And in college, I loved Voltaire's Candide (was a movie ever made of that?). More recently, I got into Conrad's Heart of Darkness. These are classics of the "journey" type of storytelling and remain inspirations for my own efforts.
Of course, "life is a journey," and the metaphor in the stories mentioned above is obvious. Travel not only broadens the mind, it changes us as surely as life's journey. Whether for good or ill, depends on the traveler and his or her fortunes in the journeying. I like to think there is wisdom and guidance to be pulled from most any journey, and that doing so, deliberately, defines one as a seeker. That's why I like Shirley MacLaine's books, Out on a Limb, and The Camino. Both describe her travels to foreign lands that occur along with her inner journeying seeking spiritual truth. Her seeking is New Agey, which I relate to, but more traditional religious journeying is also valid (The Santiago de Compostela Camino is usually considered a Catholic pilgrimage). I recently reread The Camino and posted a review of it here.
I've not traveled much in my life, though I harbor a desire for it, with the accompanying "mind-broadening." So a few years ago when a New Orleans palm-reader told me that travel figured in mine and my family's future, I was skeptical. But since then, my sons have traveled to China, and Donna and I have traveled to Rhode Island and, more recently, to Mexico. I believe personal growth was experienced by us all in these trips, especially by my sons. And we all yearn for more.
Travel implies freedom. Shirley MacLaine can indulge her wanderlust because she is enabled by the fortune earned with celebrity. Most of us are more restricted. We save or borrow to make our physical journeys that usually are restricted to one or two-week stints that, often as not, only leave us with feelings of resentment at our imposed limitations. Travel should be broad, without impediments. Nourishing to the soul, and never a matter of hubris over four-week excursions to the biggest tourist traps.
But our journeys need to be more than that. Transversing from point A to B must be done with an awareness of what A and B are, with all the points between, their many cross-connections, and the meaning that arises from, or that can be assigned to them all. So our own life-journeys are enhanced as they continue.
I can say I've changed greatly in my own life journey, especially in my years with Donna. But now I'm taking a more conscious effort in effecting further change. For the better, I pray, before I sleep; there are miles to go.
Of course, "life is a journey," and the metaphor in the stories mentioned above is obvious. Travel not only broadens the mind, it changes us as surely as life's journey. Whether for good or ill, depends on the traveler and his or her fortunes in the journeying. I like to think there is wisdom and guidance to be pulled from most any journey, and that doing so, deliberately, defines one as a seeker. That's why I like Shirley MacLaine's books, Out on a Limb, and The Camino. Both describe her travels to foreign lands that occur along with her inner journeying seeking spiritual truth. Her seeking is New Agey, which I relate to, but more traditional religious journeying is also valid (The Santiago de Compostela Camino is usually considered a Catholic pilgrimage). I recently reread The Camino and posted a review of it here.
I've not traveled much in my life, though I harbor a desire for it, with the accompanying "mind-broadening." So a few years ago when a New Orleans palm-reader told me that travel figured in mine and my family's future, I was skeptical. But since then, my sons have traveled to China, and Donna and I have traveled to Rhode Island and, more recently, to Mexico. I believe personal growth was experienced by us all in these trips, especially by my sons. And we all yearn for more.
Travel implies freedom. Shirley MacLaine can indulge her wanderlust because she is enabled by the fortune earned with celebrity. Most of us are more restricted. We save or borrow to make our physical journeys that usually are restricted to one or two-week stints that, often as not, only leave us with feelings of resentment at our imposed limitations. Travel should be broad, without impediments. Nourishing to the soul, and never a matter of hubris over four-week excursions to the biggest tourist traps.
But our journeys need to be more than that. Transversing from point A to B must be done with an awareness of what A and B are, with all the points between, their many cross-connections, and the meaning that arises from, or that can be assigned to them all. So our own life-journeys are enhanced as they continue.
I can say I've changed greatly in my own life journey, especially in my years with Donna. But now I'm taking a more conscious effort in effecting further change. For the better, I pray, before I sleep; there are miles to go.
August 5, 2012
Books of the Apocalypse
I just posted a review of Apocalypse Law by John Grit on the Good Reads website. you can find it here. It's a small novel of the post-apocalypse (PA) genre that I received as a birthday present, my wife knowing of my affinity for such stories. You'll see I didn't think much of it--poorly written with too much military worship. Still, it was instructive as an example of a poorly written novel and a base to judge my own post-apocalypse story as I work on it.
Probably, PA works have mostly been bad novels, though there are exceptions. The most notable being Cormac McCarthy's The Road. More good stuff has probably been done in film. The Book of Eli was really good. The Planet of the Apes (the original film) inspired me many years ago. The Mad Max films were good. The Omega Man was not a great film, but it contained themes and images that are basic to this genre. Escape From New York was a film I enjoyed that became a cult classic. And there were others but these are a core sampling of the kinds of stories that influenced my thinking on apocalyptic storytelling.
And maybe because my life has spanned the timeframe of the delusioned security coming out of the 1950's, through the social upheavals of the 1960's and 1970's, to the smug complacency of the 1980's, to the current gradual awakening to civilization's frailties, that I'm drawn to stories of collapse and humanity's restart.
I've done much reading over the past two decades on the implications of peak oil, overpopulation, economic collapse, societal collapse, and climate change. The future for humankind looks grim to me, but I also tend to look for hope in dire situations. Humans have survived climate change before. They've even survived civilization collapse, but not without much suffering. What's coming is a collapse of Biblical proportions because fossil fuel based technology took us to such a high level, and the forces of capitalism have become equally corrupt. It will be a long fall.
So my novel, Dentville, will be set in what I believe is a likely scenario. It is a world where climate has altered from the present to the point that a new ice age has come. Human population is greatly reduced and doesn't extend too far from the equator. The former US is habitable only in the former southern and southwestern states. People have been forced back to a simpler, agrarian life. Even so, images of former glory remain, and there are forces working to return to that imagined glory, as well as forces that oppose them.
Whatever actually happens, it will be difficult. There will be suffering. I believe people will be forced to live at a simpler level, because there will be no alternative. They will be forced, because they are too comfortable with the way things are, to honestly look ahead and work for a collapse with a soft landing.
I believe humanity has already committed to a hard way. May God go with us.
Probably, PA works have mostly been bad novels, though there are exceptions. The most notable being Cormac McCarthy's The Road. More good stuff has probably been done in film. The Book of Eli was really good. The Planet of the Apes (the original film) inspired me many years ago. The Mad Max films were good. The Omega Man was not a great film, but it contained themes and images that are basic to this genre. Escape From New York was a film I enjoyed that became a cult classic. And there were others but these are a core sampling of the kinds of stories that influenced my thinking on apocalyptic storytelling.
And maybe because my life has spanned the timeframe of the delusioned security coming out of the 1950's, through the social upheavals of the 1960's and 1970's, to the smug complacency of the 1980's, to the current gradual awakening to civilization's frailties, that I'm drawn to stories of collapse and humanity's restart.
I've done much reading over the past two decades on the implications of peak oil, overpopulation, economic collapse, societal collapse, and climate change. The future for humankind looks grim to me, but I also tend to look for hope in dire situations. Humans have survived climate change before. They've even survived civilization collapse, but not without much suffering. What's coming is a collapse of Biblical proportions because fossil fuel based technology took us to such a high level, and the forces of capitalism have become equally corrupt. It will be a long fall.
So my novel, Dentville, will be set in what I believe is a likely scenario. It is a world where climate has altered from the present to the point that a new ice age has come. Human population is greatly reduced and doesn't extend too far from the equator. The former US is habitable only in the former southern and southwestern states. People have been forced back to a simpler, agrarian life. Even so, images of former glory remain, and there are forces working to return to that imagined glory, as well as forces that oppose them.
Whatever actually happens, it will be difficult. There will be suffering. I believe people will be forced to live at a simpler level, because there will be no alternative. They will be forced, because they are too comfortable with the way things are, to honestly look ahead and work for a collapse with a soft landing.
I believe humanity has already committed to a hard way. May God go with us.
July 22, 2012
Creativity
Recently, my friend, Rocko, directed me to the TED website ("Ideas worth spreading") where there was a video of a talk that Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) gave on the subject of "Creativity" (see on.ted.com/o2A). She spoke about the anguish, joy, and sheer luck involved in the creative process. That is, the anguish of self-doubt when you're trying to create art, the joy when it comes together into what you're trying to accomplish, and the luck of your work finding enough fans to be materially successful. I've experienced all of that to one degree or other (though I'm still waiting for the latter).
Despite all my daytime years in the IT field, I am far more of an artist at heart. In recent years, I've sought to make the turn to a creative field by writing stories. I've been blessed to have found some encouragement, and this website is one result. Just to get to this point, I've struggled with much self-doubt in the form of: "Can I really do this?" And it only gets worse, the more I try. It's something you have to fight through.
Ms Gilbert mentioned the same struggle and how it didn't stop with her success. In fact, she felt compelled to investigate the history of the creative instinct. One thing she found was the idea among the ancients that "genius" was not what a person was, but rather, an energy (spirit, god, etc) that worked through the "artist" to create. The corporeal artist is more of a conduit for the spiritual artist. And I have to admit, that it actually feels that way. Any time I've created something I thought was good (re: Fire Dance), I've had the feeling that it wasn't me; that I'm as awed (or just as entertained) as anyone else. I wrote the words, but the inspiration was a thing outside of me and I'm just thankful that it came through.
Which brings me to my current situation. I'm trying to condense into a novel, a vision that I've entertained for many years. It's a vision of a post-apocalyptic world where the survivors just try to continue to live, where psychopaths try to rule as they've always done, and where a young man and a young woman just try to find what's real. It's a story I'm enamored with, but that I'm continually questioning my ability to tell: "Can I do it?"; "Am I good enough?"
This weekend has been tough for me, and disheartening, trying to get a grip on the plot. I'm trying to find a way to envision it so that I can contain and express the complexity of the threads running through it, to tell the tales of the characters as they need to be told. I sort of started again "from scratch" today, and I think I made some progress.
Which brings me back to my theme of "creativity." I believe it is 99% perspiration, that is, hard work. And what we're ultimately looking for (what I'm looking for) is a word fitly spoken, like "apples of gold in baskets of silver." Funny, but that means more to me than material success. If you understand that, then I hope you'll be my fellow-seeker.
Thanks for the web-link, Rocko.
Despite all my daytime years in the IT field, I am far more of an artist at heart. In recent years, I've sought to make the turn to a creative field by writing stories. I've been blessed to have found some encouragement, and this website is one result. Just to get to this point, I've struggled with much self-doubt in the form of: "Can I really do this?" And it only gets worse, the more I try. It's something you have to fight through.
Ms Gilbert mentioned the same struggle and how it didn't stop with her success. In fact, she felt compelled to investigate the history of the creative instinct. One thing she found was the idea among the ancients that "genius" was not what a person was, but rather, an energy (spirit, god, etc) that worked through the "artist" to create. The corporeal artist is more of a conduit for the spiritual artist. And I have to admit, that it actually feels that way. Any time I've created something I thought was good (re: Fire Dance), I've had the feeling that it wasn't me; that I'm as awed (or just as entertained) as anyone else. I wrote the words, but the inspiration was a thing outside of me and I'm just thankful that it came through.
Which brings me to my current situation. I'm trying to condense into a novel, a vision that I've entertained for many years. It's a vision of a post-apocalyptic world where the survivors just try to continue to live, where psychopaths try to rule as they've always done, and where a young man and a young woman just try to find what's real. It's a story I'm enamored with, but that I'm continually questioning my ability to tell: "Can I do it?"; "Am I good enough?"
This weekend has been tough for me, and disheartening, trying to get a grip on the plot. I'm trying to find a way to envision it so that I can contain and express the complexity of the threads running through it, to tell the tales of the characters as they need to be told. I sort of started again "from scratch" today, and I think I made some progress.
Which brings me back to my theme of "creativity." I believe it is 99% perspiration, that is, hard work. And what we're ultimately looking for (what I'm looking for) is a word fitly spoken, like "apples of gold in baskets of silver." Funny, but that means more to me than material success. If you understand that, then I hope you'll be my fellow-seeker.
Thanks for the web-link, Rocko.
July 15, 2012
There is something here among us
I remember when Whitley Strieber's book, Communion, came out in 1988. It had been a while since any major UFO books were published, and there was some media attention that caught my eye. Having an old interest in the UFO subject, I looked for the book. I found it in a mall book store, and bought it. The clerk who took my money noted what I was buying and asked me the question that was in general circulation at the time:
"You think he's telling the truth, or just trying to make money?"
I didn't have a good answer. I said something like, "I don't know, I'll see what he has to say." After all these years, I'd say he wasn't out to just make money. He'd have made more if he had never said anything about UFOs or aliens. But it came to define his life and his book was a big influence on mine.
I don't believe in aliens any more than Mr. Strieber does. The Star Trek idea of high-tech aliens exploring the galaxy falls apart from a realization of the sheer enormity of the cosmos. As Mr. Strieber notes in Solving the Communion Enigma, even light-speed is slow when trying to get around the Milky Way. And as Jacques Vallee says, the "aliens from another planet" hypothesis is just not strange enough to explain the UFO phenomena as described by the experiencers.
So what's happening? What are UFOs and alien abductions?
Having spent many years reading about the phenomena (and related phenomena), having some experiences myself, and hearing others talk of their experiences, I believe it's real. But what it is, has to do with our perception of reality, and that includes our perceptions about death. Many UFO anecdotes include dead people as well as "aliens." In fact, there are strong similarities between UFO stories and Near Death Experiences. Kenneth Ring explored those connections in his book, The Omega Project.
When I was a child in the 1960s, the United States was undergoing a major "UFO flap." That is, there were a lot of sightings. While there was skepticism, there was not the stigma and high ridicule showered on experiencers that there is now. UFO sightings were reported in the newspapers and magazines, and they were discussed on television. Today, if they are not mentioned in the context of sheer fiction, they are dismissed with contempt. But back then, they grabbed my interest and hold it to this day. In the 1980s, Whitley Strieber was one of the few voices that spoke of the UFO phenomena and so I followed what he had to say, even when he was ridiculed.
Recently, Mr. Strieber published a sequel to Communion called, Solving the Communion Enigma. I received a copy as a birthday present and have read and reread it. I have just published a review of it on the GoodReads website (www.goodreads.com/review/show/369346685).
It's not easy to read Whitley Strieber, and I've read his work for many years now. He challenges our perceptions of reality and dares us to truely think "outside the box." That's not easy to do and it can be frightening. To this day, I have trouble thinking so large, though I very much strive to do so. I challenge you to do the same.
In Solving the Communion Enigma, Mr. Strieber says: "There is something here among us that acts in an intelligent manner, but not in ways that we might act."
I believe that seeing that "something," let alone engaging with it, is a matter of perception. Perceiving in such a manner requires letting go of cherished delusions and daring to see things as they are. And realizing that even if we were to see reality without filters, we might not understand it, or even want it.
That's the price of truth.
"You think he's telling the truth, or just trying to make money?"
I didn't have a good answer. I said something like, "I don't know, I'll see what he has to say." After all these years, I'd say he wasn't out to just make money. He'd have made more if he had never said anything about UFOs or aliens. But it came to define his life and his book was a big influence on mine.
I don't believe in aliens any more than Mr. Strieber does. The Star Trek idea of high-tech aliens exploring the galaxy falls apart from a realization of the sheer enormity of the cosmos. As Mr. Strieber notes in Solving the Communion Enigma, even light-speed is slow when trying to get around the Milky Way. And as Jacques Vallee says, the "aliens from another planet" hypothesis is just not strange enough to explain the UFO phenomena as described by the experiencers.
So what's happening? What are UFOs and alien abductions?
Having spent many years reading about the phenomena (and related phenomena), having some experiences myself, and hearing others talk of their experiences, I believe it's real. But what it is, has to do with our perception of reality, and that includes our perceptions about death. Many UFO anecdotes include dead people as well as "aliens." In fact, there are strong similarities between UFO stories and Near Death Experiences. Kenneth Ring explored those connections in his book, The Omega Project.
When I was a child in the 1960s, the United States was undergoing a major "UFO flap." That is, there were a lot of sightings. While there was skepticism, there was not the stigma and high ridicule showered on experiencers that there is now. UFO sightings were reported in the newspapers and magazines, and they were discussed on television. Today, if they are not mentioned in the context of sheer fiction, they are dismissed with contempt. But back then, they grabbed my interest and hold it to this day. In the 1980s, Whitley Strieber was one of the few voices that spoke of the UFO phenomena and so I followed what he had to say, even when he was ridiculed.
Recently, Mr. Strieber published a sequel to Communion called, Solving the Communion Enigma. I received a copy as a birthday present and have read and reread it. I have just published a review of it on the GoodReads website (www.goodreads.com/review/show/369346685).
It's not easy to read Whitley Strieber, and I've read his work for many years now. He challenges our perceptions of reality and dares us to truely think "outside the box." That's not easy to do and it can be frightening. To this day, I have trouble thinking so large, though I very much strive to do so. I challenge you to do the same.
In Solving the Communion Enigma, Mr. Strieber says: "There is something here among us that acts in an intelligent manner, but not in ways that we might act."
I believe that seeing that "something," let alone engaging with it, is a matter of perception. Perceiving in such a manner requires letting go of cherished delusions and daring to see things as they are. And realizing that even if we were to see reality without filters, we might not understand it, or even want it.
That's the price of truth.
