I wrote a piece the day before yesterday that began with a reflection on Y2K. In the last months before 1999 rolled over into a new millennium, someone noticed that computers might have a problem. None of them had been designed specifically to accommodate a date (year) that did not begin with the number (1). I remembered the old fashioned odometer in my old fashioned car with five little dials, each with numbers from 0 to 9. It was a mechanical device driven by gears and shafts. With each mile driven the dial on the far right rolled upward with its number, say #3, slowly disappearing and just below it you could see the #4 trailing to take its place. Anywhere on the odometer, when a 9 started rolling up and away the dial to its immediate left would advance, perfectly synchronized, to the next appropriate number: 279 would become 280 and 6599 would turn to 6600 and so on. In 1999,(three 9's in a row) nobody had made sure the electronic digital number would change to the next millennium. If computers couldn’t determine the correct date then they could’t date a check or a contract or a permit, etc. That would be a big deal. In 1999 I thought about the odometer analogy, all of those 9’s getting stuck. It made me think of Bill Murray waking up in the movie ‘Groundhog Day’.
It was a good beginning, setting something else up to segue into. When I first used the odometer reference I knew where I wanted to go with it. The word ‘Muse’ is defined as a source of inspiration. Writers tend to experience their Muse (inspiration) personally, literally as a voice from within. Mine is incredibly convincing and I always listen when it speaks. Whatever it was that I thought I wanted to write about, my Muse thought otherwise. My idea was derailed in favor of one that calls out Man’s (mankind’s) inhumanity to other human beings. In particular it focused on the indigenous people of North America. They had been doing very well in a relatively stable coexistence with each other for over 10,000 years that we know of. Then came the Pilgrims and The Trail of Tears. The rest is well documented, shameful but then we don’t air our dirty laundry in public.
My Muse was using me to vent (free expression of strong emotion) on a dismal aspect of the American Story. I posted it on my blog, slept on it and decided that my obligation to the Muse ended with the writing and that it served no purpose in print. So I pulled it down. Really, the only time the Muse moves is when I write. My intent is always to find something that either enlightens or uplifts the human condition. That’s not easy when mankind’s true nature is a Jekyll & Hyde tandem of both good and evil. But I knew that before I started. My job this week, as I see it, is to employ Joseph Campbell’s vision. In so-many words he drew the line where it should be and doesn’t apologize. He said in effect; Participate joyfully in the sorrows of this world. We cannot cure the the world of its sorrows but we can choose to live with joy. So I am looking earnestly for some joy and I do so with a mature understanding that sh*t happens. There is no escaping it. As a disclaimer I want to make peace with God. I have no reason to believe in the God of Abraham or identify with any of his selfish, belligerent offshoot religions (they are all selfish & belligerent). But there are natural forces and laws in place that prevail across the universe and I am part of that paradigm. If that makes me one of God’s children, I'm o.k. with that.
It was a good beginning, setting something else up to segue into. When I first used the odometer reference I knew where I wanted to go with it. The word ‘Muse’ is defined as a source of inspiration. Writers tend to experience their Muse (inspiration) personally, literally as a voice from within. Mine is incredibly convincing and I always listen when it speaks. Whatever it was that I thought I wanted to write about, my Muse thought otherwise. My idea was derailed in favor of one that calls out Man’s (mankind’s) inhumanity to other human beings. In particular it focused on the indigenous people of North America. They had been doing very well in a relatively stable coexistence with each other for over 10,000 years that we know of. Then came the Pilgrims and The Trail of Tears. The rest is well documented, shameful but then we don’t air our dirty laundry in public.
My Muse was using me to vent (free expression of strong emotion) on a dismal aspect of the American Story. I posted it on my blog, slept on it and decided that my obligation to the Muse ended with the writing and that it served no purpose in print. So I pulled it down. Really, the only time the Muse moves is when I write. My intent is always to find something that either enlightens or uplifts the human condition. That’s not easy when mankind’s true nature is a Jekyll & Hyde tandem of both good and evil. But I knew that before I started. My job this week, as I see it, is to employ Joseph Campbell’s vision. In so-many words he drew the line where it should be and doesn’t apologize. He said in effect; Participate joyfully in the sorrows of this world. We cannot cure the the world of its sorrows but we can choose to live with joy. So I am looking earnestly for some joy and I do so with a mature understanding that sh*t happens. There is no escaping it. As a disclaimer I want to make peace with God. I have no reason to believe in the God of Abraham or identify with any of his selfish, belligerent offshoot religions (they are all selfish & belligerent). But there are natural forces and laws in place that prevail across the universe and I am part of that paradigm. If that makes me one of God’s children, I'm o.k. with that.
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