Swing Low: Chapter 5

How to find your inner ambition.

When the world is flooding us with novels, the only way a writer can stand out, is to be novel, -B.C. Crow

Life is full of decisions. For a part time writer like myself, I have a lot to juggle. Not only do I have a full time job that has nothing to do with writing, but I also have a growing family, church obligations, and all of life's other strings that are constantly tugging on my attention.

Most likely, you're busy too. Unfortunately, most people aren't as productive as they could be. For an interesting read, check out theNielsen reportfor media consumption among American households. From what I could gather, the average American spends over 4 hours each day watching TV. If you factor in the other forms of media such as movies, game consoles, radio, internet, the average person is absorbing just under 10 hours of media each day! Holy cow, that's a lot!

So the question I have, as a writer: Should I entertain or be entertained?

Naturally, you can apply this to any area of your life: Are you a participant, or are you a spectator?

If you find yourself being more of a spectator than you'd like, but don't know how to break out of your current predicament, I have two pieces of advice that have always kept me motivated and ambitious.

First, be curious. Easier said than done you may say. Well, maybe. The thing is, if you find yourself in a mental funk and don't know how to break out of it, try doing a few things you've never done before. This last year, my wife and I decided that all of our dates for the year would be doing things that we deemed "Not Fun." Mostly this was to help us open our minds up and try different things. In doing this, we found some pretty cool things that sparked our interest and our curiosity. For example, we spent an evening working with honey bees. We got to suit up and transport hives. We learned about the different kinds of bees and how to tell them apart. We didn't think it would be fun, but it was one of our most memorable dates ever. There was no way we could have had the same experience by watching a bee documentary.

The second bit of advice, is to act. Curiosity in and of itself isn't enough. You could watch YouTube videos all day, but unless you actually get out and do something, you're still just a spectator. And yes, I know, this sounds like the end goal, to be active. But it's also the most important stepping stone to becoming active. Newton's first law of motion applies when he said that: objects at rest tend to stay at rest. Likewise, objects in motion tend to stay in motion. Even a car needs jump-starting if it's battery is low.

Even if you don't know what you're doing, get out and do it. If you're finding your curiosity lacking, do something that doesn't even sound fun. If you do this enough, you'll get addicted to it. Life can be just as addictive as television. The only difference is that by living, you can actually accomplish something.

Everyone has the ability to be ambitious. I don't care if you're stuck in a wheelchair, or whether you fight depression--If you have a mind that can think, you have a mind that can learn and grow. Be curious. find a dream that moves you to act. Then do it. Being a writer is one of many dreams that I have. Don't forget to share this with your friends, and I hope you enjoy this next installment of my latest book.

If you're new to this, start atThe Beginning. And thanks for sharing my stories with all your friends.
Installment #6 of:Sing Low: The Hangman of the WoodsBy B.C. Crow (Download audio podcast here) ()Chapter 5I’ve often looked at other people, believing them strange. As I’ve aged I’ve learned that I’m just as weird to them as they are to me. In our community, my father was the only man in my family who might have been considered normal by the metric of social conformity. As my school year ended, I learned that the right decision is often the hardest. A good lesson that would pay to remember. Nothing worth doing should ever be done lightly.Finally, that blessed day came. The last week of the school year had arrived. At school the first order of business was to register for the next year. Since there were only a few optional classes, most of the program was highly structured in its progression. This meant that to reregister for classes in the coming quarter, there was little that needed to be formalized, mostly just a signature and a commitment to pay next year’s tuition. When the form asked for my commitment, I penciled in “transferring.”Apparently once a person gets into the journalism school, few ever transfer out. Not only does one expect to make good money in the profession, but there seems to be a sort of fraternal spirit abounding in the faculty and future alumni that prevents them from seeing any other professions with as high a prestige.“Iddo has decided to transfer,” the counselor suddenly announced to the whole class. For the first time in months, Krystal actually glanced my way. Everyone was staring at me. “Perhaps our star linguist can explain to us where he thinks his gift of speech will serve him better?”I hadn’t expected this rebuffing, and in the last couple months I’d withdrawn from social encounters so much, that my face burned with embarrassment at having to explain myself. “I- I—”“Stop stuttering,” the counselor snapped. “And stand up. We’ve taught you enough here that you should be able to audibly convey your point.”The desk squealed as my belly pressed it forward a centimeter or two. When I was on my feet, I filled my lungs and held the breath for a second, then exhaled. There was no shame in my decision, and I resolved to take pride in my new ambition. “I will be transferring to the medical college in the New Tum District.”I don’t know what I expected, but what I heard was definitely not anywhere near the anticipated effect. Laughter bounced around the room. Not just from the students, but the counselor and my teacher were laughing at me, as well. “Skipping straight to college? You want to give up a career of comfort and luxury for a chance to get sick every day? How does cleaning bedpans and giving placebos compare to molding communities and the world through the spoken and written word? You’ll become a slave to the rich and poor alike. Mostly poor.”My cheeks burned. This was exactly the attitude that disgusted me about journalists. I don’t know where my courage to speak came from, but I felt so strongly about my calling to join the medical profession that I asked, “When you get sick or your child is born early, would you rather have an intelligent doctor helping you, or would you rather risk going to one of the local witches for help?”A boy next to me immediately rebutted, “If I’m rich, I can get American doctors to help me. All our doctors can do here is prescribe placebos. They’re basically witches pretending at being doctors. And if a baby has problems when it’s born, big deal. We’re only allowed one, anyway; better luck next go around.”Inside my gut, I felt a twist of anger and nausea. I remembered my first dangerous encounter in the woods, when the drunkard had nearly killed me. How had this disregard for young life become so ingrained in our culture that even the kids my age didn’t see a baby’s life as precious? I wanted to scream, but my shame overweighed my desire to be heard. And why should I cower? Wasn’t I right? Wasn’t all life sacred?“Well,” the counselor finally said, “Iddo can do as he pleases in this matter. But remember, boy, there is a transfer fee of three hundred yuan to leave this curriculum. Good luck to the rest of you. I look forward to seeing you all next season.”The counselor left the room. I slumped back into my chair, my heart drooping even lower. I was aware of the transfer costs to enter the college prematurely, but hadn’t expected a transfer fee to leave this school. There was no way I could ever pay it. I was going to be stuck here. Not only would I be confined to this school and career, but now all my schoolmates knew of my dissension from the prevailing mind-set. Not having friends is one thing. To be openly abused for your belief is something entirely different. How could I go on?As I was walking home, Krystal ran to catch up to me. I was surprised. We hadn’t spoken in months. I looked up at her; she clearly wanted to talk, but she held her tongue for what must have been an eternity to her. When she brought her eyes to meet mine, I could see something there that I’d never seen before. I immediately turned my head back down. Sincere pity is a hard thing to accept, regardless of who offers it. Usually her pity felt more like a cartoon bandage on a pimple. This time she looked as earnest and honest as I could have ever imagined.“You shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to be a doctor.”“Everyone thinks I’m crazy for it.”She put a hand on my shoulder. I flinched, and she withdrew it. “Listen, Iddo, back in America, becoming a doctor is a very respectable thing. I don’t know why nobody here seems to think so, but I’m glad that you do.”“It probably doesn’t matter. I can’t pay the transfer fee. I’m going to be stuck here.”We walked in silence for a full minute. I half wondered if she might be able to help me with my financial problem, but quickly dismissed it. I knew enough about her father to know that he wouldn’t part with any portion of his money. He might have been American, with more money coming to him monthly than I could ever save in a year, but he was well known for being stingy. With so many poor people around him, he felt that if he gave money to one person, then before long he’d be solicited to support the whole town. No, he wouldn’t help. Even Krystal would find it difficult to gain access to his money. In a way, I couldn’t help but pity her in return. She might have been a little pompous, but I suspected that she really did have a heart. In America, she could have become something bigger. Here, I feared that she would adopt our culture. Her father, bum of an American that he was, would never be the source of opportunity that could have otherwise been hers.“Krystal, I’m sorry.”She looked at me knowingly, but then feigned confusion. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”I did, and she knew it. Why else would she have avoided me for so long? Silence hung in the air for another minute. This was the most balanced conversation I’d ever had with this girl. I didn’t want to talk, but found my lips moving to fill the void. “I’ve wanted to be a doctor for a long time now. My father never approved of it. Like everyone else, he thought I’d be better off in journalism. The thing is, I don’t agree with the school or the mentality of everyone in it.”Krystal really did look confused now. “What do you mean, you don’t agree with it?”“You heard the way the kids talked in class, didn’t you? All they care about is money. They have no ethics. They even talked as if life didn’t really matter that much.”“They were just being stupid. Nobody really thinks like that.”I shook my head. “Everything I’ve seen would suggest otherwise. No doubt you’ve heard the rumors. People taking their infants to the woods.”“Those are just stories,” Krystal defended. “There’s no truth in them. Nobody would murder their own children like that. I can’t imagine you’d actually believe those tales. Just like witches, if you believe that fathers take their extra babies to the woods to slaughter them, just to avoid an extra-child penalty tax, I’m guessing you’d also believe in witches.”She said this as if I’d be crazy to believe in witches. I wanted to argue the point. I don’t know if Americans have such things to worry about, but Krystal was just plain naive.She apparently didn’t want to talk about it. With easy effort, likely something she’d learned here at school, she steered the conversation back on track. “If you don’t make it to medical school, do you think we could at least be friends again?”“I’m not a very fun person to be around,” I reminded.“I like being around you,” she said. She must have noticed my baffled expression. “You don’t say much, I’ve noticed. But I can tell that you're a very gentle person.” She immediately regretted saying that. Telling a boy that he's gentle is seldom a compliment. “What I mean is, while every other boy in our school is trying to be macho or suave, you're just, nice. You’re a little shy sometimes, but that’s not bad. I just get the feeling that you want to do the right things for the right reasons.”I didn’t know what to say, so I just stammered a meager, "Thanks". We walked quietly until the smell of her aromatic body lotions was nearly overpowered by the smell of dried salt fish from the upcoming marketplace. It was time to part ways. “If I don’t make it out of this school, I’ll be your friend,” I said. Making friends was not a priority to me this year. Why should it be? I didn’t plan on staying. But now, changing schools was looking impossible. I'd have to make friends to survive. Krystal had friends. If I was to start, I might as well start with her.She smiled, and this time when she put a hand on my arm, I didn’t flinch. I was still awkward and didn’t know what to do next. Luckily I didn’t have to do anything. She lifted the hand, patted my shoulder once more, then gave me a fake punch in the chest. “I’ll see you around, big guy.” She turned and walked up the gravel path that would eventually lead to her house. Mangy dogs yipped as she passed them by. She turned only once to wave at me.Something was different about Krystal. I don’t know what it was, but I realized that I was glad to have talked with her. Even so, that didn’t stop me from brushing off my arm where she’d touched me. Force of habit, I suppose. I also realized that I was still standing in place, just watching her go.Something was different about me, too. I felt lighter as I walked along. At work my duties didn’t seem so burdening. I shoveled gravel for that first hour, not even tiring like I’d been doing for the last couple of months. But as the shift dragged on, my memory turned to that three hundred yuan transfer fine. Again, my spirits sank and I wondered what to do. My mother and I had sacrificed so much to make this work, and in the end, I would still be stuck here.That night I was afraid to tell my mother about the bad news. I’d almost resolved to wait until tomorrow when she asked, “Iddo, I know something is troubling you. Why not just have out with it?”I lowered my head as a tear wet the corners of my eyes. I willed it to dry so that my mother wouldn’t see. When I’d finished telling her, she just stared stoically at me. She was thinking hard, then a tight smile crossed her lips. She got up from the table and walked over to a small cedar box. From inside the musky container she pulled a beautiful pearl necklace, my grandmother’s necklace. I hadn’t seen her wear it more than twice in the last five years, the latter occasion being at my father’s funeral.“You can’t sell Grandma’s necklace!” I protested. It was the only real heirloom of worth we had, and I knew that it meant the world to her.She just rested it on the table, brushing a finger, then two, across the polished milky surface. Her eyes were full of tender memories. When she finished reminiscing, she smiled. Her eyes were moist with love. “When I think of the best way to honor our ancestor’s memory,” she said, “it’s not by hoarding their old belongings. Even if some part of us lives on after we die, I don’t think that money or possessions are what we’ll relish. If we leave anything to our children or grandchildren, I think we’ll be most happy by leaving them an opportunity. Your grandmother would haunt me if all I did with it was store it in a jewelry box. But if it can help you live your dream, and you have a wonderful dream, I think that’s what she’d want. It’s what I want for you.”I couldn’t hold my tears back anymore. It would seem that today I was ignoring most of my natural reservations. Without compulsion, I leaped into my mother’s arms and hugged her tightly. It was one of those rare moments of sacrifice that binds a mother and son. Yeah, mothers are always sacrificing for their children. That’s just what they do. I know this, but this time I couldn’t help but show my gratitude.The next day I skipped my first class as I worked with the school counselor to arrange all the transfer documents. I went through the day, and didn’t even see Krystal. I don’t know where she was, but I had enough on my mind that I didn’t really miss her. I did want to tell her the good news, but there were still two days left before the school year ended. There’d still be time.The end of the week came and went. I'd just exited the computer lab, curious to find a map of the woods. All I found was an out of focus aerial image of the vast forested jungle. Going around this thing would be expensive. Did Mother really expect me to hike through them, or would she find some way of getting me to New Tum District? She'd already sacrificed Grandmother's heirloom. Did she have another piece of valuable jewelry to hock? The thought of cutting through the woods terrified and excited me. I could do it, I think. Maybe it was all just fantasy. If I ever got more than a kilometer into the dense growth, I'd usually turn back from fear. I was no adventurer. I was just hopeless Iddo.The image of the woods from that computer screen were still fresh on my mind as I left the school building for my last time. I don’t think I had a burning desire to see Krystal, but I still found myself wandering close to her house to see if I could catch a glimpse of her. I saw her father outside occasionally. He was usually drunk or throwing cat calls at passing women, but I never did see Krystal. I stayed at home for one month following the end of the school year, and eventually I stopped walking by Krystal's house. She was quickly becoming a memory of my past.But since I couldn't stay at home while attending medical school, and since I would need to find work in New Tum, my mother insisted that I leave now instead of later when school was about to start back up again. I wanted to stay at home with her, but she argued that finding a job before school started up would be better.She was right, of course. I tried to get ready five or six different times, but the cement company kept offering some good overtime work. Finally, when there were only three weeks left until school started up, I couldn’t put it off any longer.With just enough money to get by, not even enough for a bus ride to the district, I packed what I could into my school bag. The rest of my clothing was bundled into a ball and tied to the end of a stick. Conversation was quiet as my mother accompanied me to the edge of the woods. I was suddenly aware of her quick breaths. I knew it had nothing to do with whatever illness she’d been unable to shake.“Thanks, for everything.” I gave her a hug.“You will be careful, yes?” She asked.“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”“Maybe we can find another way,” she wavered.“It’s all right. I can do this. I love you. Good bye-” It was harder saying this than I’d imagined.“Don’t worry about coming back for any breaks. Just work hard and save your money. You can come back at the end of the school year.”“You’re the best,” I said. Again, I gave her one last hug.She stood in place and watched me leave. My last image of her before the woods completely hid her from my view, was her looking helpless. Her one hand was over her chest, the other up high enough to bite at her knuckles. She would be lonely. I wanted to turn back, but I knew she’d beat herself up if I stayed on account of her fears. So I pressed on, deep into the thickest part of the woods.End of Chapter 5Thanks for reading. Remember to comment on anything you liked or that you think should be fixed.Click here to read Chapter 6Copyright 2017: While I encourage you to share this link with your friends and family, please keep in mind that this is copyrighted material. Under no circumstances do you have the right to re-publish any or part of this content without specific written permission from BC Crow and Blue House Publishing.