Building Courage (a short story)

The open portal loomed in front of me. I couldn’t go through it; not again. Besides, there were too many choices to decide between before I could make that jump. I’d have to choose not only the destination but also how that destination should look, feel, smell, and what I would be once I got there. Perhaps I could be a bird this time, that might be exciting and yet simple enough that it all wouldn’t spiral out of control. Or maybe I could be a fish, fighting my way up stream to finally be with my one true love. Traveling across the cosmos on a glorified toaster might be an interesting adventure. Truth was that though I could be any one of an infinite array of interesting life-forms aboard that ship, or even an inanimate object, but I might not be the person to make that jump – I’m just too skittish. I just don’t think I’m ready to try.

With so many choices, perhaps it’s better to just avoid the inevitable failure I’d feel after taking that step. I tried not to look at the portal. There are more ways to go wrong than there are choices to be made. For each choice to be made there are uncountable ways to screw it up or reasons for that choice to fail completely. It would be my world on the other side, and my fault for it’s failure. What if it all started to unravel again, like the last one, connections not being tight enough, or with one segment that completely overpowers all of the other elements. It’s just too un-nerving to see my whole universe falling apart around me and standing there helpless to do anything about it.

I couldn’t look at it. It scared me. I still felt the pain from trying before and failing miserably. At first it had felt amazing, so much raw power, so many unanswered questions, so many things to create and observe. But once it had started falling apart and I was caught trying to pull each thread back together. It overpowered me and I just lay there helpless, not quite unconscious, but immobile, paralyzed, stunned. It still stung like hot iron being pressed through my skull down to my heart, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Yet, this portal called to me. I could feel it tugging, trying to pull me in. It kept suggesting new possibilities to me, trying to convince me that it wouldn’t be too dangerous if I tried just one more time, something quick and simple. I wouldn’t even have to invite anyone to come with me this time; maybe that would make me feel safer. Doing it that way, however, I wouldn’t learn as much.

Fortunately for me, there were plenty of ways for me to distract myself from looking at that portal. I felt guilty doing them, but I could rationalize. The easiest way to rationalize was by going through someone else’s door, down their rabbit hole, trying to learn how they held it all together for all their visitors that came. Looking around for one of these, I found one that was perfect for me. In many ways it was a lot like the world I had tried to create, yet at the same time so vastly different that I could, if I tried hard enough, forget my world or any others and throw myself into this one completely. Just sticking my toe in to test the waters, I could feel the rich vibrations and warm rhythms and tones that I would enjoy.

From there I dove in head first, not even taking a breath, knowing that I would breathe in heavily all of the rich colors, sights, sounds, and smells. I intentionally forgot how dangerous this could be. I needed to be able to avoid thinking, to let someone else do it for me for a while. And from the moment I was through the first thin page, I no longer struggled to forget everything else. It was amazing, a euphoria so encompassing that I could feel it surging through my veins.

I watched, smiling, as my feet started to take root. It was no longer someone else’s story, someone else’s world, it was mine. I was Kvothe, the most notorious magician alive, and I was telling my story, or at least so it felt to me.

I marveled as I continued through all of the passage ways wondering how each step could taste so richly of the bright colors and vibrant atmosphere of this strange new world. I started out as a gypsy and then had to find my way alone on the streets of a dangerous city. But I still made my way to the University where I would learn dangerous and powerful knowledge. I laughed to find brilliantly insane characters that brightened the world, and shone through all of the dark places. I grinned broadly as I was forced to set wit and strength against advisories that tried to thwart my quest. It wasn’t really my wit or my strength, but that didn’t bother me. I owned this world now or it owned me, it didn’t matter, we were one in the same.

I couldn’t get enough. I had become completely addicted. I breathed in deeper and faster, unaware of how it was changing me. Even if I had noticed, I would have loved it, having become so deeply apart of the story unfolding around me. I both loved and fought dragons, winning the hearts of beautiful women yet stumbling through any courtship. The whole of it all was so beautifully crafted that I didn’t want it to ever end.

Even as I saw the end coming, I raced toward it, unable to stop myself even if I had wanted to. I knew the end would come, as it always must, especially when through someone else’s door. Then as I took one more long breath and swore with the name of the wind a command so powerful that it shook the whole earth, it was over. I was ripped from it’s pages and left destitute without it’s comforting friendship.

Having come out the other side I was left where I had started. The open portal loomed in front of me, asking me a thousand questions and thundering for me to come inside. It still scared me, but I was a bit more brave now – I would have to be. I had hoped that I could borrow some of the strength that I had found in someone else’s world, but the truth of it is that I’m at least as much more desperate now as brave.

I always knew I would have to take that step and overcome my fear. My hands shook as I reached out toward it. My feet felt as heavy as lead elephants, but they too started to move toward that open gate, the portal to my own new world. Perhaps I will be bruised again, beaten back and stand here once again. But for now, at least, I am standing. So I move forward.

The Engineer Who Thought He Could Write

I recently listened to a pod cast from Writing Excuses in which a writing instructor confirmed my belief that anyone can learn to write professionally. He did say, however, that for those without natural talent it might be like learning to swim without arms. I think that reading my book might be like watching a person trying to swim without arms. You might be tempted to ask why I'm in the pool in the first place, why almost drown when life on solid ground has so much to offer. I think in previous post I've expressed enough of the "why" that to do so again might get tedious. Instead I'd like to present insight in what this effort has brought to me.

Before embarking on this amazing expedition (and still way too much today) the joke, "I'm an Engeneer Enginere Ingenear good with math," applies painfully well to me. In fact most of the poor communication skill stereotypes were my life. I liked the term "socially independent" over other terms and I'm not necessarily "shy" per-say. But it has been, sometimes more than others, easier for me to do what I like on my own as opposed to having to interact with others. It is somewhat funny to joke about the ways that guys tend to bond in general, with as little said as possible -- just being in the same place and doing the same kinds of things in proximity to others.

With so much stacked against me, failure is of course inevitable (at least for the first seven years). Unfortunately even after those seven years of hard work, I might just barely be comparable to a teenager writing his first book. But I do see improvement (and drastic improvement over how I started). I still see a lot more that I have to learn, but since I'm making progress (however slow) I know that I can do this.

For me it might be like running my first marathon, learning a second or third language,  (though significantly harder and a lot more time consuming than all of those) or flying to the moon (which I haven't yet done). But I do love a challenge. I love the quote, "It's better to shoot for the stars and miss than shoot for a mud puddle and hit it."

I remember loving Leonardo da Vinci as a child and being disappointed when as a teenager I was told that those days are long gone. Today, I was told, a person has to learn depth to succeed and learning breadth would only cause more problems for earning a living.

I also love hearing about great pioneers like George Washington Carver. I remember once being upset that I wasn't born with more hardships that I had to overcome so that I could shine as bright as he and others like him. I've learned from writing that the best stories are those in which the main character has a lot of challenges to overcome. Many writing instructors say that "conflict," and how the characters deal with it, is the story. I'm certain that this is true of the stories we write of our lives (the process of living) as well.

Leonardo da Vinci once said, "It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things." So in that spirit I have learned, more and more now, how to find the challenges that might be the biggest for me and learn how to tackle them.

So while I might still look like I'm trying to be the biggest freak in the show, and still doing miserably bad at that, I love that I'm gaining friends along the way. I love that I'm getting better at sharing ideas, dreams, hopes and heartaches.  I love being out and doing something, and something that might have some value (I loved learning chess, but I think I can see this as being much more useful). I love the challenge; I love breaking myself against this until I can finally see some change.

So while it still might be a long while before I could make a living at writing, I can see myself torturing you with my writing for a long time to come -- at least until you can see the brilliance of it all (: .

And if you don't know how to help me, and would rather advert you're eyes from my pathetic flailing until I finally reach the majestic state of famous author, I can understand. But if you want to be remembered as one of those who knew me back when my writing was worse than hairy tomatoes on pickled rye toast, to gain bragging rights of being one of the first believers -- one who saw the brilliance before it became clear to the rest of the world, now is the time join with me. Join my conspiracy to take over the world with amazing literature. It might be a little painful at times, but I think it's a lot of fun.

Dream Great Things Out Loud...

It's scary putting yourself out there, daring the impossible. The chances of failure are inescapable, but the great dreamers don't let that slow them down. The inspirational stories of people from Thomas Edison to Michael Jordan help to lift us up above our failures to still believe in spite of overwhelming evidence that tries to persuade us that we can't.

Sometimes when we look at those examples we like to ignore the thousands of more examples of those that kept trying and still failed. Though with Don Quijote as the fictional epitomization of this, they too can rightly be admired for their zeal and unconquerable spirit. However, it is a lot more pleasant, when dreaming, to imagine that success is at the end as opposed to just admiration.

I have a theory on how to make dreams, no matter how impossible they may seem, a reality.

Of course, with me being who I am, I'm going to explain it all in terms of conspiracies. (It's just too much more fun for me that way.)

In the esoteric terms of conspiracies: the mystical Gnosticism and the cabalistic Jewish mysticism have frequently been said to be hidden in Mormonism. Hidden, because actual mormon scholars (as opposed to "armchair quarterback" scholars such as myself) look like they might be discouraged from going down that path of finding those connections to Mormonism. However with both systems the emphasis is in getting to know God by becoming like God. (Already you might see why the Gnostics were hunted in early christianity as heretics.)

In terms of dreaming big, I can't imagine any bigger. It is sufficient, even if you don't believe in God, to visualize a theoretic embodiment of all desirable traits in their perfected from. We can use either for this discussion. I think that we might also need to specify God as devoid of all undesirable traits -- and thus the embodiment of perfect. From here we should easily agree on how far into to the realm of impossible it is to dream for such a accomplishment for ourselves. However, I will quote here from Matthew 5:48 a commandment to all christians to chase such dreams, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father [God] which is in heaven is perfect."

Now, having set the bar as high as it can possibly go, I should add (for fun) that the mystic systems also incorporate godly power to achieve the otherwise impossible. In fact it is usually for these "magical" powers that people search out the esoteric understanding of these mystical systems. It's probably because of that attraction that Nephi (the Book of Mormon prophet that came from Judea) went out of his way to avoid talking in terms of the Jewish traditions associated with the Kabbala, even when spending two chapters on the tree of life. But since he chose instead to talk plainly ("For my soul delighteth in plainness..." 2 Nephi 31:3) it may actually be easier to piece together these powers and not just dream the impossible dream but live it.

To temporarily obfuscate the matter, I propose that the Tower of Babble was an intellectual pursuit such as the understanding of the Kabbala for personal aggrandizement -- an attempt to find a short cut to heaven, by selecting just those parts of godliness that seemed more desirable (like gaining absolute power without first obtaining the wisdom to use it properly). And being that clarity, or plainness, is essential in not only defining each goal but also in finding the path to obtain those goals, with the "success" of the Tower of Babble came all of the fallen languages of the Earth. That is why English is so tough -- because it was designed in place of clarity, in order to create esoterica. (The English language is part of the conspiracy to keep us from reaching our goals. ;} )

Hopefully that's sufficient to emphasize the first part of my theory on obtaining any goal: clarity. Clearly defined goals and actionable, measurable steps that lead to them is empowering.

The second element in achieving the impossible, is attitude. The two prophets that help create a spectrum of understanding on this are Joseph of Egypt and Jonah (and the whale). Because Joseph took each obstacle (being sold as a slave, thrown in prison, ...) in stride without complaining but instead making the most of it -- it's easy to see why he eventually became the second in command in all of Egypt. And Jonah, who was pretty close to the opposite in terms of attitude, was rightly thrown from the ship in the middle of a storm in an attempt to save the lives of those on board.

And the way to find that clarity and proper attitude is Love. (Love is of course the key. In fact most of Matthew 5, mentioned above, is about love.) I'd write another long treatise on this but I think I'll let my past blog post on the matter suffice for now.

Perhaps another element is "don't dream stupid dreams" but stupid dreams seem to at least partially work for Don Quijote. So I'll try not to step on your dreams even if I think they're dumb. A guy has to be free to find out for himself how silly his dreams are.

With as much as I've been able to judge so far, these elements seem to be working. It looks as though I'm getting closer to my dreams. Even if I can't make it as a writer, yet, I love my job and the people I'm working with. It's tough being in a different state than my family, but they should be moving out this way soon. And for the most part, I think we're doing well and getting better.

(I'm also thinking of re-marketing my book as "more life changing than The Celestine Prophecy" -- that might be a better niche for me than YA conspiracy. But I'm still feeling my way blindly through this process.)

Putting yourself out there...

"How bad could it be?" I asked myself, as I decided to write my first novel.

Little did I know how bad failing could be, especially with a world wide audience. I recently looked up the "worst" books sold by Amazon. The Shadow God by Aaron Rayburn is one that has become notoriously famous with 20 single star reviews and each of the five star reviews dripping with the most cruel sarcasm I could imagine. As I read through the reviews I couldn't help but feel for poor Aaron Rayburn, who dared to dream far bigger than he was capable of flying and fell flat on his face for all the world to laugh at. And while C. Dennis Moore's books have done slightly better, nothing he's done has received as much acclaim and notice as his crucifixion of Mr. Rayburn.

On the other hand there is also Essentials of the Internet which is currently ranked #9,867,298 on Amazon, which is as far as the numbers go currently, I think.

It's a cruel world out there. It's difficult to gather enough courage to possibly be mocked by 75,000,000 people like Rebecca Black for her Friday song. (Perhaps not all of those people think of her song as a fun way to torture others, but a lot of the reviews suggested that might be case.)

I can now understand a little better why most people don't publish books, write songs, paint, or publish their own creative works, whatever they may be.

I recently heard a quote about faith. It compared faith to that courage of a baby bird who jumps from the safety of the nest not knowing beforehand how to fly.

I love and admire the courage of those people who dare not only to dream big but to chase those dreams that are far bigger than they have the ability to reach.

I'm glad that my friends haven't tried too hard to save me from myself (as Mr. Moore might have been trying to do for Mr. Rayburn). I haven't hit the ground yet, though I may have hit a couple of the branches on the way down. I don't know if I'd have the courage or strength to climb back up the tree to try again if I ever got to that point. As it is, it's easy to start doubting. It's easier to be done and say, "I've given it a go, and now I can move on." But I want to help champion those dreamers, who against all odds still tried. I want to carry that torch, daring the world to laugh at how reckless and foolish I am.

Maybe it's good that I have an extra thick ego, or naivety, to help protect me from "reality." Because someday I'd like to grow up to be more like Robby Novak, who might not have as many views as Rebecca Black, but who in spite of having brittle bone disease still knows how to dance and help others to smile.

May we all learn how to dream a little bigger and accomplish a little more.

The Love Conspiracy

You knew I would eventually get to this, it's too big a conspiracy to pass up, and with it being Valentine's Day....

I know that in true Illuminati and conspiracy fashion I should start by pointing to archaic history of the word to help motivate you to realize the magnitude of this conspiracy, but I think this conspiracy has touched everyone so deeply that no introductory words are necessary. Though you may wonder which of all of the myriad of love conspiracies I have chosen to talk about.

As a still aspiring author, with one book published, I think it important to start by pointing out how frequently ill-defined the word "love" is: "an intense feeling of deep affection," "a quality or feeling of strong or constant affection for...," "warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion," etc. Most definitions focus on a bio-chemical reaction stimulated by glands in the body that generate a feeling of pleasure. I'm pretty sure that there are drugs out there that you could find that would simulate even the most intense of these types of euphoria, though I wouldn’t prescribe them.

I don't mean to discount that elation of looking into someone's eyes and seeing an eternity of beauty, grace, and perfection. After years of living together, raising children, and sharing dreams with all of the inevitable arguments that have come and gone, it is amazing to still be able to hold that one companion who has remained undaunted through it all and still see all the reasons I'd go through every bit of it again just to spend that time together.

And the pride that swells in my heart as I look at my teenage son, as he finishes high school and prepares to go out into the world, fills me with such gratitude to have been a small part of his accomplishments. The cascade of neuro-feedback proves that I was genetically programmed to live for these kinds of successes in life. It's understandable that love might be described in terms of deep emotion.

With the younger children it's even easier to be filled with excitement and joy just seeing them have fun and laugh. So why would I focus on the error in terminology when I clearly feel the tremendous pull of sentiment just thinking about each of my family members?

It's because I've a failed, more than I'd like to admit. I'm fairly good with failure and try to learn as much as I can from it. I'm even sometimes good at learning from other peoples failures and successes. But the terminology currently used for love makes it too easy to shift the blame.

Now for the esoteric references. Joseph Smith once talked about how one can become great, he said, "Elevate, benefit, and bless others first.  If you will elevate others, the very work itself will exalt you.  Upon no other plan can a man justly and permanently aggrandize himself."

This means that any efforts I take to make something of myself that aren't focused on how I can help others ends up as foolishness. Or put more poetically, "Love is the only true success."

When one further looks at one of his successor's words, these given by Pres. David O. McKay, "No Other Success Can Compensate for Failure in the Home." One can see how love is clearly the key, but only when one has the correct understanding of what that love is.

I might feel an bio-chemical high because of the success I see at work or some place. And that feeling of elation might, according to popular consensus, be defined as "love." But if I don't have a correct understanding of love I might end up putting more time and energy where I feel like I'm getting more in return, and miss out on so much more. It is amazing the kinds of rewards that come from families, but most of these come with their fair share of pain as well.

There have been too many times that I've failed as a husband or father. Love, in the context mentioned above, isn't always convenient and sometimes not even pleasant. There is a good reason that it is frequently connected to sacrifice. Sleepless nights, arguments over rules, worries about finances and futures..., I wish I was better at always looking first for ways that I could help. I know how painful it is growing up, even as a dad. And sometimes I've wanted something in return for all of that effort. But I've come to realize now that with love, if I'm looking for something in return, or it's diminished because of unmet expectations, then I'm not doing it right.

I'm sorry for all of the times I've gotten upset over a bad grade or what ever perceived failure I saw in one family member or another. I can see now how much better it would have been to have been more supportive and understanding. I wish I had done more to help them rise above the disappointment than feel the extra burden of discouragement.

I'm sorry for all of the times that I gave up on trying to encourage something different because I got tired of the resistance I felt. I wish I hadn't been so selfish with my time that I justified my actions by focusing on my own personal improvement, just hoping that they would see what I was trying to suggest.

I'm sorry for being lazy, or rude, or for not listening more attentively.

I'm sorry that during those times when I was trying to become better at exercise, or learning, or such that I missed opportunities to become better at love.

There may be other conspiracies (of which YouTube might play a role) that are currently keep us apart (and do I love my day job), but I look forward to the day when I can spend more time together again with my family (and even live in the same state). And one of these days I hope I can become an expert of this, the most important trait of all -- love.

Be Awesome.

In my next book in the series I have one of my characters telling Sarah something like, "Of course the whole universe is conspired against you, it was designed to test you to the core to see what you are made of. While others may try to hide from this testing, you must embrace it and let it stretch you in ways you didn't know you could grow."

It certainly feels like whole universe is conspired against me at times, or at least the English language. I tried to think of a conspiracy between Noah Webster and Mark Twain that would explain why English is so complicated for me, but Webster studied 26 languages in an effort to make American English more uniform and straight forward. That was a lot of effort to try to better teach American children how to read and write.

However, with my novel and the roughly 650,000 symbols (letters, numbers, punctuation, etc.) needed, even if I got 99.9% of all of those symbols correct that would still leave 650 errors. I now understand much better why so many books still contain errors even when the publishers have a team of editors to help clean them up, let alone indi' authors who are doing it all on their own. It only makes maters worse that when I try and read through and correct mistakes that my brain is able to easily compensate for me and make it look as if those mistakes weren't there. It takes a great deal of attention to details to find all of the errors, and with a lot of creating you have to ignore most of the details in order even get started (otherwise you get too bogged down with all of the minutia) so it's hard to do both.

The universe is definitely causing me to stretch in ways I didn't know I'd grow and, in fact, in ways I didn't actually want to grow. But I am grateful for the growth.

I'm also grateful to Kenda, who recently provided me with a number of edits that I think will clean up most of my errors. I feel like I'm perhaps 99.999% of the way there (unfortunately that might still leave about 6 errors). I think that this might be more comparable to a traditionally published book. I'm not satisfied, I'd like to have it perfect, but I am happy that it is getting closer. And I think that the more people that I can get to read it, the better it can become.

This means that there might be a number of "collector's editions" that are printed along the way. As more people buy my book, I'm hoping to be able to buy back as many of those collector's editions as I can and burn them. Mostly because every time I see all of the mistakes that I've made, I'd much rather hide them than be reminded that they're out there. Unfortunately for me this may increase their value, as hopefully they become more and more rare. So I am hoping that with your help we can make their value skyrocket.

While I do like my day job a great deal, I did have fun making these videos in order to help promote my book (Help reunite me with my family! and Keep it secret). They seemed like they would have a "youtube" sharable nature to them. But they are definitely promotional videos, and I'd much rather be awesome like the Kid President, Robby Novak, than just go viral.

Unfortunately Amazon is also conspired against me in that, if you already have my book on Kindle it's hard to get the updates so that you can see if it's good enough now to share. The only way I know how to do it is with Amazon's "contact us," by selecting Kindle eBook and asking them to send the updates. But hopefully if you're able to do that you'll see that not only have I cleaned it up a good deal more, the links to the chapters are also fixed.

I know it's a bit of a pain, and I wish I was just perfect the first time so you wouldn't need to go through the extra work. But I do thank you for all of your help. And if you'd rather not go to all that trouble, to help me be awesome, that's ok. I might need a lot of help. I'll still consider you awesome either way.

They're out there, I tell you!

I've studied physics, learned several languages, ran marathons, and written a novel. And while I can easily say that I did better than average at everything I've done, it's mostly because most people (Americans at least) don't do those those things. Among people that study and have studied physics, I'm afraid that I look rather pathetic, I can no longer remember way to much of it. Among those that learn languages, I mostly just talk to myself (who I can usually understand). Among those that run marathons, my times still haven't even come close to qualifying for Boston. I have been searching my whole life (so far) trying to figure out what success really means. I know I'm pretty darn amazing, I just haven't figured out where yet.

As I've taken up writing, I think I've realized that most of have trouble being amazing. I think most of us usually fail and many don't even realize it (or try and hide it). I think there is far too many people who don't realize that they are amazing, and far too many others who like to brag about what they think is amazing about them, which really isn't. I like to blame the Illuminati for this, mostly because it's fun.

Imagine what it would be like if someone from the Illuminati wanted to sell you hair gel. They would obviously want you to believe that your appearance, and your hair in particular, was the most important thing about you. What if someone from the Illuminati wanted to sell you a gym membership? I think I can almost convince you that this is they way things are already done. It might get scary if I tried too hard to convince you.

So what can one do when the Illuminati have infiltrated so deeply into our society that even our politicians are conspiring against us?

I'm glad you asked, because I have something I want to sell you :).

But seriously, whether or not you've read my book, I'd love to hear from you. I'd love to hear you have fun with this idea and play with it. Knowing that you were destined for greatness, tell me how you've been thwarted by this evil Illuminati? And if you like, tell me how you think we can end this awful tyranny?