Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Thoughts on Emerson




I found myself reading Ralph Waldo Emerson recently for an assignment at school. Now, it has been a while since I’ve visited his works, and to be honest I was looking forward to it. In the book that we use there are small biographies before the author’s selected works. In Emerson’s biography, something struck me and I immediately knew I wanted to talk about it. That’s one great thing about having a blog. You can talk about, well, anything you want to, but back to the point. In the biography, it is mentioned that Emerson’s works are particularly demanding on readers. This wasn’t what grabbed me. Anyone can read his writings and notice the complexity of thought and matter and easily come to this conclusion. Instead, it was something else that intrigued me.

“There is creative readings as well as creative writing.”

I can’t really tell you the punch the above sentence delivered to me, but let’s just say it caused my gears to turn. Emerson is a man who was so wrapped up in the notion of self and individualism that he brought it to his writing in the sense of thinking of the reader. What I mean is, he wants the reader to be individual, to have a separate experience, one all their own, when they read his work. He’s all right with one reader feeling a certain way about story A and another reader feeling completely different. If the first person was taken to the distant reaches of the universe with the story, and the second person was left leaning against the tree that held them up as they read, again, he was fine with that. He respected the experience just for the sake of having one.

The book went on to say, “Emerson’s language can be elliptical and sometimes maddeningly abstract, but there is no American writer who placed greater importance on the reader’s active interpretive role in generating new meanings and ways of seeing the world” (The Norton Anthology of American Literature, Eighth Edition, Volume B, 214).

As a writer, I write stories that bend the rules as we know them. I ask for the reader to willingly suspend their belief and enter the worlds that I construct. Ultimately, I want them to experience what my characters experience, to see them like I do, to make them as real to themselves as I see them when I write, and I want them to feel the characters’ feelings whether they are happy, sad, scared, what have you. As a reader I like the stories that are able to invoke these emotions and put me in their worlds the best. When you get lost in a story, that is a good sign of some great writing. But for a writer to write specifically so that the reader would be able to interpret the story and take from it an individual view takes it one step further.

Do most writers write with this in mind, or are they writing to hit beats and plot points, conforming to a spreadsheet of moments, structure or events they feel are necessary to take place? For genre fiction, I see more of this, certainly, but what if a genre fiction writer were to also employ this element in their writing? I would think that the story would be richer, more robust. This is not to say that some writers aren’t doing this already, only that I’m curious to know what would happen if it were incorporated in a big way. This would allow a reader to have their own experience, their own adventure. Up the ante, if you will.

Have we, as writers, lost our way? 

Friday, February 1, 2013

Somewhere in the Shadows



One of my latest releases, Somewhere in the Shadows, is part of an epic giveaway consisting of not just my books, but books from the other authors in the anthology, as well. Have I grabbed your attention? Let me sweeten the pot by telling you a little bit about Somewhere in the Shadows by way of a book description.

"From the shadows of the night comes nine haunting stories from some of the most promising horror, science fiction, and thriller writers out there. Tales of vampires, werewolves, rogue A.I.s, bad roads, zombies, and even malicious words bring out the terror, suspense, gore, and even humor in modern horror. With an introduction by "The Imaginings" author Paul Dail and an eclectic variety of terror that has something for every kind of horror fan, this is one anthology sure to keep you up past dawn."

The authors include: Jonathan D. Allen, Dean Giles, Craig Jones, Marissa Farrar, Andrez Bergen, Andrew Hudson, Dan H. Kind, C.M. Humphries and a foreword by Paul Dail.

My story, "Blood Line", is about a man who doesn't know his true lineage, but finds out by way of a mysterious letter and the full moon. This is a collection full of wonderful and terrifying works.

Check out the many ways to be entered to win a copy of Shadows and the other books -

  • Tweet the giveaway (one ticket)
  • Follow me  on Twitter: @akeller9 (three tickets)
  • Check out my blog/site (two tickets)
  • RSS/Subscribe to my blog/site (ten tickets)
  • Post giveaway on blog/site (ten tickets)
  • Tweet about Somewhere in the Shadows (two tickets)
Go ahead and enter below. It can't hurt and you might win some awesome fiction.

 . a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

5 am

It's amazing what I will think of at 5 am.

The house is quiet, dark and still, but my mind is like a computer spitting out 1s and 0s in a series of misfired, disjointed sequences. Random thoughts flit by, cruising at a pleasant speed, allowing me to grab any one freely, examine it, turn it around and solve its disparate Rubik's Cube, then letting it float back up into the ether where it's quickly replaced by another. Sometimes the thoughts are meaningless and inconsequential; others are heavy hitting, in your face subjects that are way too big to even think of solving. Really, it doesn't matter what the thoughts are, it's that my brain thinks, hey, this is a good time to spout off and send crap tons of information her way.

 In another perspective, I've come up with some pretty good story ideas during this time, if I can manage to shovel away the heavy psychological compost. Or if I'm already working on something, and maybe I'm stuck or in a place where I need some more creativity, some more answers, this magical time can also supply me with these.

But where do they come from? Why don't they bombard me during the daytime when I'm fully awake and able to handle the barrage?

I have a theory.

It's because of the Thought Monster.

Don't know what that is? Well, I will tell you.

It's a large invisible creature that tiptoes (Why does it tiptoe if you can't see it, I don't know. Monsters need manners, too.) into our homes and looks to see if anyone is awake. If it finds everyone sleeping, it simply goes away to look at your neighbors (Perv). But if someone is awake, it unstraps a sack from its massive body, takes one large and clawed hand and reaches down deep, taking out strings of words that dangle over its palm, threatening to spill out onto the floor, then dumps them on our head where they are instantly soaked up. Next the fucker smiles through black, filthy teeth because it knows what it has bestowed upon us. Sleepless, thought filled, pre-dawn mornings.

That's what I like to think about the whole process. Monsters soothe me. Don't judge.

I know I'm not alone in this. I've talked to other people who complain about the same thing. During my latest thought fest, I decided to try and figure out the culprit and that's what I came up with.

Don't like my Thought Monster? Add your own ideas below, if you dare.
 

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Tarotsphere by Jeffery X Martin

I use my blog for many things. Book reviews, my insatiable, odd interests, writing about monsters, and also to help other writers by promoting their work, to name a few. This post is dedicated to the latter. My very good friend, Mr. Jeffery X Martin, has a fabulous new book release titled, Tarotsphere, which is an in-depth study of the Tarot, written in his infamous and entertaining style of prose. And did I mention there's a CONTEST? Read on to find out more about the man, the myth, the X...



-->
Hello.
I am not Amber. My name is X. However, if you would like to call me Amber, that will be an extra five dollars.
The Real Amber (whose real name is not Amber, but oddly enough, is also X) has let me commandeer her blog for a little minute so that I may tell you a little about myself and my new book, Tarotsphere. There’s a contest, too, so make sure you’ve got your decoder rings ready!

You can buy the book here.


Tarotsphere is a storybook for adults, an absurdist look at the Tarot deck people are familiar with, in which I’ve given every single card its own back story. You’ll meet characters like Tremulous, the Barber and Kimmy, the High Priestess. It’s all in good fun, of course, but it isn’t disrespectful. There’s still enough insight into the inherent wisdom of the cards themselves that you could interpret a Tarot reading using the book. You’ll have to use your imagination. A gallon of cheap red wine helps, too.
Right now, Tarotsphere is available in electronic form only. You can read it on your Kindle or your Nook. You can download a free app from either Amazon or Barnes and Noble to read it on your PC! We’ll think about physical copies if the demand for them is great enough.
Oh, the contest? Right. The contest. I’m giving away three Tarot readings to be done over video Skype. All the details are over at my blog, which I’m thinking about letting Amber run for me. You’ve got until Halloween at midnight to enter.
What else do I do? Well, I run a movie and music site and I write scary stories. I’m currently working on a horror script for Bluetrane Productions and developing a project that I can’t talk about yet. Except to say it’s awesome.
So now that you know a little about me, I know you would like nothing better than to become one of my internet stalkers. Let me give you the information to do precisely that.  You’ve already got my website addresses… oh. Here’s my Amazon author page. You can buy my stuff from there. If you want to do it all for the Nook, here’s the link for that. You might as well follow me on Twitter, too. I’m there a lot and I’ll talk to you if you follow me and talk to me, unless you’re an asshole. Find me: @X_the_Unknown.
Buy my books! Be my Twitter friend! Become a fan now, while interest rates are low and you can still get in on the ground level!
Ugh. Amber wants her blog back now. Fine. Whatever. Anyway, thanks for your time and attention. I’m gonna go do some stuff. Important stuff. Like, play Bejeweled or something. For research.
-X-

If you have any questions for X about the book or his writing, please use the comments below. Thank you for visiting!

Friday, October 5, 2012

Guest Post by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

I would like to welcome guest and fellow horror author, Kathryn Meyer Griffith. She has a little tale to share, one of a Halloween from years passed. This is the perfect time of the year to snuggle up near a fire with a steaming mug of hot chocolate or apple cider and listen to ghost stories. Kathryn has just the tale for us. It's one of a Halloween from years passed. Without further ado, I give you Kathryn.




Halloween Memories

Treat or Treat, Robots and Candy Corn

By author Kathryn Meyer Griffith


I believe I’m lucky. I grew up in the 1950’s and 1960’s. Halloween was so different back then. Simpler. More innocent. Exciting. A true holiday for children. And I have memories I’ll cherish my whole life.
My family was large. I had six siblings, three sisters and three brothers, and we never had much money. My dad was a salesman and my mother, like a lot of women during that time, didn’t work outside the home…she was busy enough raising seven children. We were the poor family down the street with too many kids living in the shabby two-story spooky looking house. Our neighbors shunned us or felt sorry for us. But I didn’t care, I had my family to love me. I had Grandmother Fehrt, my mother’s mother, to fill our bellies with food when the table was a little too bare. I had my ambitions and dreams, science fiction and scary library books to read and pictures to draw (I wanted to be an artist from the age of nine). I frolicked in the empty fields riddled with deep gullies beside our house with my brothers and sisters or ran the dark streets and woods playing hide-and-go-seek. Sang to the moon on our rusty swing set in the backyard with my brother, Jim. Or, on a black and white TV set, watched Zorro, the Twilight Zone or The Lone Ranger on swelteringly hot nights in a house with no air-conditioning. Sweet days and nights. Poignant memories now that many of my family are gone.
Halloween was my favorite holiday, next to Christmas. I remember one, when I was about ten or so, vividly. It was cold and raining, but nothing stopped us four older children (the rest were too young that year) from going out into the neighborhood and collecting big brown bags of free candy. No, not when candy was so rare for us. My parents could hardly keep enough food in the house, much less buy us sweets. So Halloween meant a windfall of treats. Nothing kept us home on that night. We’d quickly eat the bowls of chili Mom would insist we eat as the sun went down. Another tradition. So we had some real food in our stomachs before the glut of candy came.
My mother, money being sparse as always, dressed us two girls up as gypsies, using her old costume jewelry and tying bright scarfs around our heads and waists. My younger brother Jon, wore an old sheet with cut out eye slots. A ghost. My other brother, Jim, had outdone himself that year and, out of two cardboard boxes and paint, had fashioned himself a robot. Wasn’t bad for an eight year old, either. Made it hard for him to walk, though. He stumbled a lot.
That night we traipsed through the wet woods, a short cut, to the rich subdivision down the road that – oh, my – gave out those huge candy bars at each door, enormous homemade popcorn balls or bags of candy corn, my favorite. My grandmother had taught Jim and I a catchy song…G-i-n-g-a, G-i-n-g-a, G-i-n-g-a…Ginga was his name. Never understood that song but I think it was about a pet dog or something. Jim and I got so much good feedback, so many treats for belting it out, though, that at Christmas we were performing The Little Drummer Boy for anyone we could corner and sing to. The beginning of our later singing folk duo (so big in the 60’s) and then my short (my brother kept singing out as I began writing my novels) singing career, no doubt.
We had a great haul that night. Cold and rainy as it was. Frozen as our faces and fingers became. Maybe got even more goodies because it was so inclement. We went to all the houses, collected our booty, and ecstatic at our bulging bags, at the end of the night, ran through the trees toward home. Trying to beat the rain, which had become a deluge, worst of the night. With noisy thunder, and spectacular lightning. It was sooo spooky. In the spirit of the night, we were sure something bad was following us. We ran faster. Our paper bags getting soaked as we cradled them against our shivering bodies.
Then, clumsy in his robot disguise (he kept bumping into trees because he couldn’t see) Jim fell over a tree limb and spilled his candy everywhere. As he cried, we scurried around trying to salvage what we could. Didn’t do much good. Too dark. The rain was too heavy. So the three of us promised to share our booty with him and we led him home.
As we were drying off and warming up, Mom and Dad smiled at our stories of singing for our candy and all the strange ghouls and monsters we’d met on the way; laughed over Jim’s mishap and gave us hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows to drink.
Then there was a knock at the front door and when we looked, there was Grandma Fehrt, dressed as a wicked witch, complete with tall black hat and long dress, cackling at us. Trying to fool us. But we all knew it was her. She dressed up every year and knocked at our door. Always a witch.
We kids hugged her and laughed, then sat at the table counting out (and oohing and aahing with glee) over our candy haul. We shared it with Jim, of course.
To this day I remember that Halloween with a wistful smile. Such good times from so long ago. I see my brothers and sisters young faces through the mists of time, remember the thrill of singing with my brother for the first time and the delight of the people giving us the candy in exchange for the song. I remember my parents and the love in that drafty old house we scampered back to. I remember my grandmother with her smiling witch eyes and painted face. Remember going to bed with a stomach ache because I’d eaten too much candy. Heck, I always did. And I remember those no longer with us. My father, my mother, one of my brothers and all of my grandparents.
My childhood, when I think of nights like that, is just a moment away. The dead are with me again. Ah, I’d give anything to go back in time and be with all of them once more. The way we were. Young and hopeful and with our lives ahead of us. Enjoying each other’s company…and all that good candy.
Anything.

***************************************************************************



Amazon

Amazon

Amazon

Amazon

About Kathryn Meyer Griffith...
Since childhood I’ve always been an artist and worked as a graphic designer in the corporate world and for newspapers for twenty-three years before I quit to write full time. I began writing novels at 21, over forty years ago now, and have had sixteen (nine romantic horror, two romantic SF horror, one romantic suspense, one romantic time travel and two murder mysteries) previous novels and eight short stories published from Zebra Books, Leisure Books, Avalon Books, The Wild Rose Press, Damnation Books and Eternal Press.
I’ve been married to Russell for thirty-four years; have a son, James, and two grandchildren, Joshua and Caitlyn, and I live in a small quaint town in Illinois called Columbia, which is right across the JB Bridge from St. Louis, Mo. We have three quirky cats, ghost cat Sasha, live cats Cleo and Sasha (Too), and the five of us live happily in an old house in the heart of town. Though I’ve been an artist, and a folk singer in my youth with my brother Jim, writing has always been my greatest passion, my butterfly stage, and I’ll probably write stories until the day I die…or until my memory goes.
All Kathryn Meyer Griffith’s Books available at Amazon.com here: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Kathryn+Meyer+Griffith



           
Novels and short stories from Kathryn Meyer Griffith:
Evil Stalks the Night (Leisure, 1984; Damnation Books, 2012)
The Heart of the Rose (Leisure, 1985; Eternal Press Author’s Revised Edition 2010) Eternal Press Buy Link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615722327http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615722327
Blood Forge (Leisure, 1989; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition, 2012)
Vampire Blood (Zebra, 1991; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition, 2011)
Damnation Books Buy Link: http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615724253http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615724253
The Last Vampire (Zebra, 1992; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition 2010) Damnation Books Buy Link: http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615722075http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615722075
You Tube Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZU77j_q4S8http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZU77j_q4S8
Witches (Zebra, 1993; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition 2011)
Damnation Books Buy Link: http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615723553
The Nameless One (short story in 1993 Zebra Anthology Dark Seductions; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition, 2011) Damnation Books Buy Link: http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615723201
The Calling (Zebra, 1994; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition, 2011)
Damnation Books Buy Link: http://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615725007
Scraps of Paper (Avalon Books Murder Mystery, 2003…soon to be an Amazon Kindle Direct ebook)
All Things Slip Away (Avalon Books Murder Mystery, 2006…soon an Amazon Kindle Direct ebook)
Egyptian Heart (The Wild Rose Press, 2007; Author’s Revised Edition, Eternal Press 2011)  Eternal Press buy link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615724437  My self-made
You Tube Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cogCNYKzPqc
Winter’s Journey (The Wild Rose Press, 2008; Author’s Revised Edition, Eternal Press 2011) Eternal Press Buy Link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615724604)
You Tube Book Trailer address: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZYCs2DVhHg
The Ice Bridge (The Wild Rose Press, 2008; Author’s Revised Edition, Eternal Press 2011)
Eternal Press Buy Link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615725182
You Tube Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28HZqu-my1g
Don’t Look Back, Agnes novella & bonus short story: In This House (2008; ghostly romantic short story out; Eternal Press 2012)
You Tube Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3q9rZryFMo
Eternal Press Buy Link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/people.php?author=422
BEFORE THE END: A Time of Demons (Damnation Books 2010)
Damnation Books buy link: httphttp://damnationbooks.com/book.php?isbn=9781615721313
You Tube self-made Book trailer with original song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0-U9c2Lwfo
The Woman in Crimson (Damnation Books 2010)
Eternal Press Buy Link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615721979
You Tube Book Trailer Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcRBvDI5G4Y
The Complete Guide to Writing Paranormal Fiction: Volume 1 (I did the Introduction)
Dinosaur Lake (from Amazon Kindle Direct 2012)
4 SPOOKY SHORT STORIES (Amazon Kindle 2012)

My Websites:
http://www.myspace.com/kathrynmeyergriffith (to see all my book trailers with original music by my singer/songwriter brother JS Meyer)
http://www.bebo.com/kathrynmeyerG
http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1019954486
http://www.authorsden.com/kathrynmeyergriffith
http://www.goodreads.com/profile/kathrynmeyergriffith

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity






Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity from Sirens Call Publications…
Ever wonder how the ancient myths would unfold if set against the backdrop of modern day? Would monsters still hold the populace in an icy grasp of fear? Twelve talented authors took on that challenge, crafting tales of horror and intrigue mixed with the lore has withstood infinite retellings.
Myth or reality…
Explore the twelve tales of horror and intrigue in Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity and ask yourself, what would you consider a fair price to pay for life immortal... or the chance of life at all?
Would a young woman pass up a shiny bauble if she believed it to be nothing more than a harmless trinket? What transpires once a year in a peaceful and remote village that no one will ever speak of? What better way for a broken man to honor a crippled existence than with a memorial of blood and vengeance? How could a disfigured woman ever dream of chancing across an object that would restore her beauty - and at what cost?
Follow the twists and turns of each writer as they delve into the legends of days gone by, as well as the consequences that are wrought when myths and monstrosities collide with our world.
Contributing Authors include:
Thomas James Brown, Nina D'Arcangela, K. Trap Jones, Amber Keller, Lisamarie Lamb, Edward Lorn, Alexa Muir, Kate Monroe, Joseph A. Pinto, J. Marie Ravenshaw, Julianne Snow, and Jonathan Templar

These modern myths from Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity are available from:
eBook: Amazon, Amazon.uk, Amazon.de, Amazon.fr, Amazon.it, Amazon.es, Smashwords (Nook, Kobo, Sony and Kindle eReaders)

A selection of three superbly crafted tales of mythological horror from the twelve contained within Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity. For a preview of all 12 stories, please go to SirensCallPublications.com
Hades and the Hydra – Amber Keller
It was business as usual. The day had started like any other. New York City was bustling with the normal activity of the big city at dawn. People already crowded the streets, business owners were busy with opening the many stores, and the street was filled with a never-ending stream of taxis and other vehicles. The cornucopia of smells that completed the city wafted in on a cool breeze. There was nothing different, as far as anyone knew. But in truth there was a sinister plan nearing fruition underneath the unsuspecting city.
In the depths of the Underworld, Hades sat in the vast expanse of a large, dark, cavernous room, on a throne built of obsidian bones. Cerberus, the three-headed dog, lay at his feet. snoring.
“Persephone, come to me.” Hades cracked his knuckles as he issued the command.
Persephone glided into the room, her head down. She crossed the expanse and knelt beside him.
“Today is the day that I shall finally have some fun,” he said as he stroked her silken hair.
Keine Solche Sache – Edward Lorn
"Parthenogenesis is a dream. Or a nightmare, depending on who you are talking to." Johan Schmidt said. "Christians call this The Immaculate Conception. They believe that Mary, the mother of the baby Jesus, had never known the internal touch of a man. I believe the lady just cheated on her husband."
The hotel banquet hall livened with short bursts of nervous laughter. Johan waited for them to subside before continuing.
"No other religion has this belief. Allah didn't impregnate some unknowing woman. Buddha didn't tiptoe through the tulips to drops seed in some impoverished house wife. And don't get me started on Shiva! The Jewish community doesn’t even believe Jesus was the son of God. So, if you're hearing this, and you are, in fact, Jewish, you think Mary was an unfaithful wife, too. Don't you? That's what I thought."
More sporadic laughter.
"I may be German, but even you must admit I have a point. The Nazis - and yes, my family tree does contain one or two - researched the possibility of this Parthenogenesis. They wanted to make the super soldier, as it were. A cloned man, or woman - they were not sexist - with infinite powers. They theorized that if they could map and control the human genome, then they could unlock the ninety percent of the brain us normal bipedals could not."
A Fair Price – Alexa Muir
A splash sounded to Hannah’s left. She swung her head, her copper hair cascading over her neck, but saw only ripples in the water by the side of the pool. Puzzled, she got up from her comfortable perch and walked over to the pool’s edge. Though she peered intently into the pool’s depths, she saw nothing; the water was clear and sparkling all the way to the mosaic bottom. With an internal shrug, she decided to seek out Matt for herself.
Studying her nails as she wandered past the lounger, Hannah reached down one handed to pick up her book, only for her fingers to meet the wooden tabletop with a scrape. It wasn’t there. Grumbling, she went onto one knee and peered under the table, and then under the lounger. Still no book. She could have sworn she put it there. A little worm of unease slinked into her guts, but she decided to ignore it and continued her way around the house. She could hear Matt laughing and knew that Jess would be the source of the amusement.
“Jess, stop, get off, stop it!” The words came fractured between Matt’s laughter, and when Hannah came round the corner she saw that he was having a tug of war with Jess for the hose he’d been washing the paving with. It looked like Jess was winning.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Of Mice and Minotaurs...


 I really never jump on here and just talk. With the title of my blog, I thought it was fitting that I put up this post on, well, some late night ramblings. And so it begins...



Every decision we make takes us to a different path, a different place. We are faced with these decisions every day, sometimes many times a day. The big decisions, the ones that are significant life markers, or changers if you will, will set us on a bigger branch that has many smaller branches, an infinite number of them, coming off either sides for its duration. The bigger branches are sometimes there, and sometimes they can simply appear. It all depends on the choices we make each time we are faced with a decision. 

A decision can be one as small as “what do I want to eat?” because in this choice we may have to, for instance, leave our destination to go forth and find food. If this happens, there is the possibility that circumstances out of our control can occur, which could alter the path and potential decisions we would be faced with hereupon. To see this is to envision an endless, complex system of networks of branches. It is ever changing, never static; a dynamic flow of roads and networks that are shifting and turning like a Rubik’s Cube of life. We play the part of a wizard, or a marionette handler, in this case. We have the ability to make these decisions, and cause the changes that will occur from then forward. The mere fact that we have memory, the ability to recall our past experiences, and to apply this knowledge so that we may make a more educated choice, is fascinating. However, there are those who do not seem to be able to, or use this applied knowledge. 

Why is that? 

If you can harken back to a time, an experience, that may have even the smallest degree of similarity or parallel, you could use that information to make a better informed decision. Although, there are those, the dreamers if you will, that live life in a constant newness, as if each experience, each decision, each choice they are faced with, is a new one, never before experienced, not needing or perhaps wanting to apply any learned behaviors or experiences to any choices they may have in the future, or maybe not even aware this is an option, or let’s even say that they may not have been given the ability to do this at all. 

Again I have to ask, why is that? 

These (poor ? - you decide) individuals could save themselves much pain and suffering, potentially, by utilizing this most basic of human ability. Or maybe that is all a part of their life plan, their path, but to think of their path in this unknown, is a bit confusing and muddles the mind. Maybe they simply aren’t meant to. In order for us, as a species, to have a rich, mixed and complex race, we would need to have all representation of all gamut’s, correct? If so, then that would mean that, unfortunately, there would be some individuals who would not have the means to use this method. These people, would their lives be harder, filled with more tribulations, more failures, repeated failures even, necessarily?

Or, would their lives be filled with richness…




I kind of think of life like the great labyrinth in Crete with its vast twists and turns, dark corners and endless maze, and lest we not forget the epic minotaur who resides in the center, waiting for someone to stumble upon him and be his next sacrifice. Theseus slayed the Minotaur, and followed the string he had left behind him back to the entrance. In life, we face our own Minotaur. Some may have more than one, some just the one. Whether we win the fight is up to many variables. If we do not win, do we die? I don’t think so, necessarily. It may hinder a part of us; render it inert, if you will. Maybe a certain area of us will be crippled. Maybe it will be become unusable. Maybe it gets buried deep down inside of our innermost recesses, hidden in the dark folds of our gray matter itself, locked away in a box. Who’s to say? But if we are victorious, it would give us strength and cunning, agility and temperament. The ability to fight another day and use the new found skills to enhance our lives. Maybe. Or maybe we go on to another day as if it’s completely new, and face the next Minotaur with a clean slate.




Is life, then, an endless torrent of fights and challenges? If we look at it that way it’s enough to exhaust and wear down the spirit. Well, let's not.

So which one fares better - the one who learns and applies that knowledge or the dreamer?