Disneyland Tips and Pointers
I realize that this is totally rude, indelicate and insensitive... but it is, nevertheless, the truth. And that's what the "Fly in the Holy Oil" is all about: telling the truth... no matter who it might offend.
Some things I learned at Disneyland:
1) GRANNY. Bring your Granny. She wants to ride on the roller coaster with you. Seriously. Go to the nursing home (ask the wife for directions if you don't know where it is) and scoop your granny up out of her bed, and stick her in a wheel chair (she will love that) and take her with you to Disneyland.
Bring her with you to each of the rides. They've got a special deal going on. As long as you've got granny in her wheel chair, they will let you and the whole family (all 18 of you) get on the ride without waiting. It's true, I've seen it with my own eyes. Little old gray-haired grannies, and their 18 closest and most dearly loved relatives going right straight to the head of the line, no matter how long the wait (and some of them, even in the off-season, were 90 minutes lines!)
2) FAST PASS. If Granny isn't available, or you are afraid of losing her, do the FAST PASS thing instead. FAST PASS is a really cool thing they've got going on at Disneyland, but you won't know about it or how to use it, unless you read the fine print. The reason FAST PASS works, is because nobody knows about it, okay. So, now you know about it, and it is going to help you ride on all the rides you want without waiting for 90 minutes in line.
The way FAST PASS works is: there are about a dozen of the most popular rides at both Disneyland and California Adventure that have FAST PASS. What FAST PASS is, is there's an area somewhere near the ride (often difficult to find) where you can "get your FAST PASS". You stand in a short line (usually 5 minutes or less) and when it is your turn, you insert your Disneyland tickets into a machine, and it spits out a FAST PASS ticket for each of your Disneyland tickets. The FAST PASS ticket enables you to go in a much shorter line for the ride (usually 5 minutes or less) at a specific time. It's like making reservations for your ride! It's really a cool thing.
We used FAST PASS to go on Autopia (bypassing a 60 minute wait) and Space Mountain (bypassing a 90 minute wait) and Thunder Mountain Railroad (also bypassing a 60 minute wait.)
The only thing about FAST PASS is: they are not unlimited (unless you are staying at the Disneyland hotel) so you have to plan things right. Once you get a FAST PASS for your ticket, you can't get another one for another hour and a half. Also, really popular rides (like space mountain) are all booked up before NOON! (even in the off season.) So, get your Space Mountain FAST PASS first, or else you will end up going on the ride at 11:00 at night.
An aside: Space Mountain seems to be the most popular ride there. Probably the most popular ride at California Adventure is Grizzly River Run. In fact Grizzly River is so popular that we didn't get a chance to ride it. By 11:00 AM, the only FAST PASSES left are for 9:30 at night, and who wants to get soaking wet at that hour. Even in sultry California. Well, yeah, apparently some folks do!
3) wear your feet out. We tried to save money on our trip by staying at a hotel a block away from Disneyland. But, upon reflection, it might have been better to pay the extra $100 a day to stay at one of the Disneyland hotels. Not only are you a lot closer to the park, but they give you unlimited FAST PASS (no wait time between FAST PASSES). That means you can get all your FAST PASSES one right after the other, and then come back at the appointed times and ride the rides quickly.
4) Early Entry. One of the advertised specials is that if you buy tickets for three days in a row, they will let you in for Early Entry one day. Early Entry means you get to come to the park one hour before it opens. When we were there it meant 7:00 AM instead of 8:00 AM. They only do Early Entry three days a week, so you have to plan for it. And, just so you know, Fantasy Land and Main Street is the only thing open on Early Entry days.
Don't do it. It isn't worth it. At least on the days we were there, the lines for all the rides were much shorter on normal entry days than they were on early entry days. I figure everyone tries to get a break on those long lines, by coming early on early entry day, but on normal days they don't come right when the park opens.
On the day we got to the park at 8:05 AM, we walked right onto Jungle Ride (and got off and got back on the next boat), and the line for Pirates at 8:30 in the morning was only 10 minutes long. BUT on early entry day, we planned to ride on the Fantasy Land rides that always have long lines (for some reason, that's Peter Pan, and, for obvious reasons the Matterhorn) - well, by the time we got to Peter Pan (maybe 7:15 AM) the line was already 60 minutes long! We went over to Pirates, and bit the bullet at a 25 minute wait (at around the same time it had only a 10 minute wait on non-early entry day).
Cheers!
Basil
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Life and Disneyland
Some reflections on my trip to the Magic Kingdom...
So, what is it about Disneyland? The Magic Kingdom? The Happiest Place on Earth? Source of controversy?
What is it about Disney in general... everything Disney?
I really loved Disneyland as a kid. Then as a young adult, I ran across an article or something somewhere that said "Life is no Disneyland!" And I thought that was rather poignant. As a young adult, you get into this frame of mind that "life isn't fair" and "life certainly isn't all fun and games" so the concept that "life is no Disneyland" makes a great deal of sense to you.
But as I grew older and my conception of the world reformed, I began to take on a new point of view about things. Namely: life is as fun as you want it to be... life is as fair as you want it to be... joy is as readily available as you want it to be.
I began to realize that happiness is something you make inside yourself by being content with the life you find yourself in.
Basically two people can live in exactly the same circumstances, and one of them become bitter, angry, grouchy, unkind, ungenerous, and so on, while the other becomes kind, forgiving, pleasant to be around, and so on. Of course, I find myself often falling victim to the former conception, when I want to mostly dwell in the latter.
Generally, there is a fine line between caring too much about things, and caring too little about things. You have to find the right balance between the two, so you don't become complacent, while at the same time you don't care so much about every little thing that you become bitter, angry, grouchy, etc.
What I think really works is: BEING a CHILD! I really think Jesus was onto something when he said "except you become as little children..."
So, anyway, I'm enjoying my second childhood, and it started a few years back. But I'm not going to let anyone stop me...
Anyway, that takes us back to Disneyland.
You walk into this place that Walt Disney envisioned as a place where everyone is happy. You are excited and ready to have a great time. Maybe you rush around a bit too much from one ride to another... maybe you feel a little bit uncomfortable waiting in long lines, in the hot sun. But you never really get grouchy. Why? Because you are just a big kid now. This is Disneyland, after all, how can you be grouchy? (Unless you are one of Snow White's dwarfs...)
Okay, so you tell me there's a difficult world right outside, where there are problems and complications and hardships and struggles. Okay, so there are even some folks out there who cannot afford to go to Disneyland.
Well, a "safe haven from the troubles of the world" has it's cost, doesn't it? It has its cost whether you are thinking of it spiritually or physically. Everything has its cost.
You could look at Disneyland from the perspective of how unfair it is to enjoy this little island of utopia while the rest of the world outside is suffering. Of course, you could look at heaven the same way.
But the fact is: utopia is a place in your mind.
(The Kingdom of God is within you...)
As Orthodox Christians we believe in bringing heaven to earth. It is one of the fundamental concepts of our faith. This is why John Lennon's song "Imagine" (there's no heaven... it's easy if you try...) has no meaning to us. It is neither an accusation against what we believe in, nor an affirmation of it. We can't imagine there's no heaven, because we already live in it. At no time of the year is that more obvious to us than Pascha! At least, I think, if you are an Orthodox Christian, you should be living in heaven - right here and now.
So, what does this have to do with Disneyland?
I think Walt Disney had the right idea: make a place where everyone can leave all their cares behind. Make it a place where everyone believes in happiness. Where everyone is a kid. Where people can actually believe in magic.
Never mind how expensive it is... never mind the waiting in lines and the heat. I became a believer when I saw a little girl lose her balloon while waiting for the Main Street Parade, and then watched as one of the Disney workers walked from position performing crowd control, half a block up to the balloon stand, and then back to the little girl to give her a new one.
Sure Disney comes with a cost.
But you never lose your balloon.
Cheers!
Basil
Some reflections on my trip to the Magic Kingdom...
So, what is it about Disneyland? The Magic Kingdom? The Happiest Place on Earth? Source of controversy?
What is it about Disney in general... everything Disney?
I really loved Disneyland as a kid. Then as a young adult, I ran across an article or something somewhere that said "Life is no Disneyland!" And I thought that was rather poignant. As a young adult, you get into this frame of mind that "life isn't fair" and "life certainly isn't all fun and games" so the concept that "life is no Disneyland" makes a great deal of sense to you.
But as I grew older and my conception of the world reformed, I began to take on a new point of view about things. Namely: life is as fun as you want it to be... life is as fair as you want it to be... joy is as readily available as you want it to be.
I began to realize that happiness is something you make inside yourself by being content with the life you find yourself in.
Basically two people can live in exactly the same circumstances, and one of them become bitter, angry, grouchy, unkind, ungenerous, and so on, while the other becomes kind, forgiving, pleasant to be around, and so on. Of course, I find myself often falling victim to the former conception, when I want to mostly dwell in the latter.
Generally, there is a fine line between caring too much about things, and caring too little about things. You have to find the right balance between the two, so you don't become complacent, while at the same time you don't care so much about every little thing that you become bitter, angry, grouchy, etc.
What I think really works is: BEING a CHILD! I really think Jesus was onto something when he said "except you become as little children..."
So, anyway, I'm enjoying my second childhood, and it started a few years back. But I'm not going to let anyone stop me...
Anyway, that takes us back to Disneyland.
You walk into this place that Walt Disney envisioned as a place where everyone is happy. You are excited and ready to have a great time. Maybe you rush around a bit too much from one ride to another... maybe you feel a little bit uncomfortable waiting in long lines, in the hot sun. But you never really get grouchy. Why? Because you are just a big kid now. This is Disneyland, after all, how can you be grouchy? (Unless you are one of Snow White's dwarfs...)
Okay, so you tell me there's a difficult world right outside, where there are problems and complications and hardships and struggles. Okay, so there are even some folks out there who cannot afford to go to Disneyland.
Well, a "safe haven from the troubles of the world" has it's cost, doesn't it? It has its cost whether you are thinking of it spiritually or physically. Everything has its cost.
You could look at Disneyland from the perspective of how unfair it is to enjoy this little island of utopia while the rest of the world outside is suffering. Of course, you could look at heaven the same way.
But the fact is: utopia is a place in your mind.
(The Kingdom of God is within you...)
As Orthodox Christians we believe in bringing heaven to earth. It is one of the fundamental concepts of our faith. This is why John Lennon's song "Imagine" (there's no heaven... it's easy if you try...) has no meaning to us. It is neither an accusation against what we believe in, nor an affirmation of it. We can't imagine there's no heaven, because we already live in it. At no time of the year is that more obvious to us than Pascha! At least, I think, if you are an Orthodox Christian, you should be living in heaven - right here and now.
So, what does this have to do with Disneyland?
I think Walt Disney had the right idea: make a place where everyone can leave all their cares behind. Make it a place where everyone believes in happiness. Where everyone is a kid. Where people can actually believe in magic.
Never mind how expensive it is... never mind the waiting in lines and the heat. I became a believer when I saw a little girl lose her balloon while waiting for the Main Street Parade, and then watched as one of the Disney workers walked from position performing crowd control, half a block up to the balloon stand, and then back to the little girl to give her a new one.
Sure Disney comes with a cost.
But you never lose your balloon.
Cheers!
Basil
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Reflections on Virginia Tech and Disneyland
I planned to blog next on Disneyland. I got back from a trip to that place late Saturday night. My mind has been filled with thoughts on that place, and really, the concepts of beauty, peacefulness, "magic" and that sort of thing. I won't really start yet, but I must say that I love that place, and what it stands for really makes sense to me.
Then yesterday we had that terrible tragedy in VA. Since thing I've been in mental turmoil over the state of humanity. Why is it that people snap like that... are, really, pushed to the brink, and can't handle it, and take that sort of "way out"? A grand finale such that they will be remembered forever in infamy, instead of die in obscurity and anonymity.
It is easy to talk about what a horrific nut that guy was. It is too easy.
What troubles me is: how did he get that way? I, as a fellow human on this planet, feel in some way responsible. Oh, I know "I'm not my brother's keeper" and yet at the same time, my own feeling is that "it could have happened to anyone" who was down-and-out, short on luck, had no friends, and didn't know how to make any...
Of course, none of us like to be lonely, an outcast, not have enough money to make ends meet, or to accomplish something useful in this world. The bottom line is: in a capitalistic society, it takes money to accomplish anything in life. It takes money to take a woman out on a date, or to go with friends "out for coffee". Generally speaking, those who have more opportunity to do things with friends are more "successful" socially, and, theoretically, more fulfilled. None of us like what it feels like to not be successful at making friends, and finding a place for ourselves in this world.
It is too easy to place blame on this person. Of course, they were at fault. No amount of pain and frustration gives a person the right to take the life of another, and worse: many others. But, at the same time, our society was responsible for creating someone like that.
And it is also too easy to say that we can simply all make the world a better place through kindness. A kind word here and there, a smile as often as possible... these things truly do make the world a better place, and perhaps can for a time quell the insanity that wells up within a person like that.
But even so, I think kindness itself wouldn't have been sufficient to stop this man from doing what he did. There is a deeper problem here.
From what I've read, numerous people tried professional intervention to attempt to break through to this guy. He was sent to psychiatrists, and doctors, counselors, and public service individuals. In a word, he was "boxed in" to a category as being someone who "had something wrong with him."
How would that make a person feel, to be treated by a system of institutions who were trying to convince him that something was wrong with him, trying to convince him that he "needed help" and so on.
The social orders of the world are increasingly convinced that it is "not okay to be a loaner". The social orders of the world are increasingly convinced that someone must act and speak a certain way. But what do the social orders of the world really know? What kind of people does that mentality create: model citizens, or people who crack under pressure?
My perception is that the social order creates people in both camps. But the social order is particularly good at creating people who crack under pressure. Why? Because a society based upon making everyone behave a certain way, cannot possibly succeed. The only thing that succeeds is the ingrained belief that in order for the world to be a better place, you've got to point your finger at everyone who is wrong: you've got to correct everyone who is mistaken, you've got to personally get involved in making everyone behave themselves.
In reality, what people in the world want is trust. But what our society increasingly takes away from everyone is that very thing. No one is to be trusted: not from the most powerful political leader, down to the part-time cleaning lady. And because they are not to be trusted, as soon as you see someone do anything out of place, you call them into question. You think that you are somehow making them accountable to the world, but in reality, all you are doing is feeding their hatred.
I don't know what the whole answer is to the problem: but I do know for certain that the answer is not a fascist state controlling everything. Equally, the answer is not to be found in fascist individuals who are always correcting everyone else: always trying to force everyone else in this world into their own molds - their own conception of what is "properly behaved."
Regards,
Basil
I planned to blog next on Disneyland. I got back from a trip to that place late Saturday night. My mind has been filled with thoughts on that place, and really, the concepts of beauty, peacefulness, "magic" and that sort of thing. I won't really start yet, but I must say that I love that place, and what it stands for really makes sense to me.
Then yesterday we had that terrible tragedy in VA. Since thing I've been in mental turmoil over the state of humanity. Why is it that people snap like that... are, really, pushed to the brink, and can't handle it, and take that sort of "way out"? A grand finale such that they will be remembered forever in infamy, instead of die in obscurity and anonymity.
It is easy to talk about what a horrific nut that guy was. It is too easy.
What troubles me is: how did he get that way? I, as a fellow human on this planet, feel in some way responsible. Oh, I know "I'm not my brother's keeper" and yet at the same time, my own feeling is that "it could have happened to anyone" who was down-and-out, short on luck, had no friends, and didn't know how to make any...
Of course, none of us like to be lonely, an outcast, not have enough money to make ends meet, or to accomplish something useful in this world. The bottom line is: in a capitalistic society, it takes money to accomplish anything in life. It takes money to take a woman out on a date, or to go with friends "out for coffee". Generally speaking, those who have more opportunity to do things with friends are more "successful" socially, and, theoretically, more fulfilled. None of us like what it feels like to not be successful at making friends, and finding a place for ourselves in this world.
It is too easy to place blame on this person. Of course, they were at fault. No amount of pain and frustration gives a person the right to take the life of another, and worse: many others. But, at the same time, our society was responsible for creating someone like that.
And it is also too easy to say that we can simply all make the world a better place through kindness. A kind word here and there, a smile as often as possible... these things truly do make the world a better place, and perhaps can for a time quell the insanity that wells up within a person like that.
But even so, I think kindness itself wouldn't have been sufficient to stop this man from doing what he did. There is a deeper problem here.
From what I've read, numerous people tried professional intervention to attempt to break through to this guy. He was sent to psychiatrists, and doctors, counselors, and public service individuals. In a word, he was "boxed in" to a category as being someone who "had something wrong with him."
How would that make a person feel, to be treated by a system of institutions who were trying to convince him that something was wrong with him, trying to convince him that he "needed help" and so on.
The social orders of the world are increasingly convinced that it is "not okay to be a loaner". The social orders of the world are increasingly convinced that someone must act and speak a certain way. But what do the social orders of the world really know? What kind of people does that mentality create: model citizens, or people who crack under pressure?
My perception is that the social order creates people in both camps. But the social order is particularly good at creating people who crack under pressure. Why? Because a society based upon making everyone behave a certain way, cannot possibly succeed. The only thing that succeeds is the ingrained belief that in order for the world to be a better place, you've got to point your finger at everyone who is wrong: you've got to correct everyone who is mistaken, you've got to personally get involved in making everyone behave themselves.
In reality, what people in the world want is trust. But what our society increasingly takes away from everyone is that very thing. No one is to be trusted: not from the most powerful political leader, down to the part-time cleaning lady. And because they are not to be trusted, as soon as you see someone do anything out of place, you call them into question. You think that you are somehow making them accountable to the world, but in reality, all you are doing is feeding their hatred.
I don't know what the whole answer is to the problem: but I do know for certain that the answer is not a fascist state controlling everything. Equally, the answer is not to be found in fascist individuals who are always correcting everyone else: always trying to force everyone else in this world into their own molds - their own conception of what is "properly behaved."
Regards,
Basil
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Bourbon and Ginger Bread
I've discovered this evening a great new combination. Well, great in the sense that it appeases the culinary demons in my flesh. Of course, that's bad in the sense that I'm supposed to be on a diet.
Yesterday, while I was waisting away in front of the fireplace in my basement, taking a sick day on account of this drat cold I've had for nearly a month now (the whole year, in fact!)... my daughter brought me a generously heaping plate full of Ginger Bread cookies.
Well, that was yesterday. I had several with tea.
But now it is tonight. And I should be in bed (I see it is almost 1 AM), and my coworkers and I are on-call at 4... but I digress.
I've just discovered (after blazing through about 10 chapters of Allisense, and defragementing my hard drive) what a wonderful combination Ginger cookies and Bourbon are.
Well, enought said about that.
God bless you all, and have a good night!
Cheers!
Basil
I've discovered this evening a great new combination. Well, great in the sense that it appeases the culinary demons in my flesh. Of course, that's bad in the sense that I'm supposed to be on a diet.
Yesterday, while I was waisting away in front of the fireplace in my basement, taking a sick day on account of this drat cold I've had for nearly a month now (the whole year, in fact!)... my daughter brought me a generously heaping plate full of Ginger Bread cookies.
Well, that was yesterday. I had several with tea.
But now it is tonight. And I should be in bed (I see it is almost 1 AM), and my coworkers and I are on-call at 4... but I digress.
I've just discovered (after blazing through about 10 chapters of Allisense, and defragementing my hard drive) what a wonderful combination Ginger cookies and Bourbon are.
Well, enought said about that.
God bless you all, and have a good night!
Cheers!
Basil
Saturday, January 06, 2007
The unbearable dissymmetry of concept and form
This was just published by my good friend Gus BenJava over at:
http://writereader.blogspot.com/
I repost it here with permission...
~ Basil
The unbearable dissymmetry of concept and form
Many years ago I told a friend that I was a "tortured artist".
"You don't need to be a tortured artist," my friend replied. "No one needs to be a tortured artist. Plenty of people become successful artists without ever being tortured artists."
"Well, I assure you," I answered. "In my case it is not a choice. It maybe a choice for some people, but for me it is not a choice. I am tortured because my soul is tortured. Some element of my soul that I cannot control is tortured day and night."
"What does it mean to be a 'tortured artist'?" my friend asked. I knew my friend was waxing didactic at this point, but I went along because I thought it would be interesting and informative to see what she said.
"Well," I answered. "I have no idea what it means for most people to be a tortured artist. But in my case, when I say that I am a tortured artist, it means that I have too many ideas in my head and I cannot possibly express them all. I have ideas and dreams, and colors and shapes, and visions, and voices. Fragments of lines, and incomplete thoughts. Impressions and places, places that do not exist in this universe and places that do, and places that we fear might exist, and places where we long to look. There are places that we dread to bear the sight of, and visions of people and things, both hideous and marvelous at once.
"My head is full of such things night and day, day and night, and I cannot possibly express them all in a meaningful manner in one lifetime."
My friend was just looking at me mystified at this point, and so I continued.
"I have heard of writers block before. From what I understand, the concept is simple: a writer cannot think of what to write any more, so he sits idle for days, weeks, months, sometimes even years. I will never have writers block, because I cannot stop thinking of things to write."
"Don't you think that's a bit full of pride," my friend answered.
I had heard people say this before. I was quite certain they were mistaken.
"I am not boasting of any idea I've had. I'm not boasting of anything I've accomplished. On the contrary, I'm telling you about a mortal affliction. It is an illness. I am a tortured artist, not in name only, but because my soul is tortured day and night by all that I envision, and all that I cannot possibly accomplish."
My friend appeared about to laugh. Yes, just laugh in my face, I thought.
"Don't make yourself always to be a victim," my friend said.
This made me stop and think. Was I making myself a victim? It had never occurred to me that way before.
Well, that was the end of the conversation many years ago. I thought about that for a long time. Was I making myself a victim, by thinking that my lot in life was too much for any one man to handle?
Years later I met someone that told me, "the main thing you have to do is focus. We all have too many ideas. We all sometimes lose ourselves in the rush to be creative in a thousand different directions."
It wasn't long after this I met a man at a writer's conference who couldn't get his books published, couldn't get his poems published, couldn't get his music published, couldn't find anyone to publish his photography, and so on. It made me realize that a person could spread themselves out too thin with the creative instinct, and end up accomplishing nothing at all.
Well, now many years have gone by. I've written half a dozen novels, and self-published two of them, just because I wanted people to read them. I've written hundreds of poems and published the best of them in chapbooks and on the internet - mostly because I cannot stand sending things out to editors who aren't even going to bother to read them in most cases before they send them back and say "I'm sorry, it's not for us." I've also written dozens of stories and some of these I've published here and there on the internet.
I've had my poetry and stories found on the internet by people all over the world, and they've written to me (by email) about them. I've had poems selected for anthologies, and even accepted several requests by people that asked me if they could publish one of my poems in their magazines. I've had my poetry turned into a ballet, and had students ask me if they could quote me in their homework, and I've been interviewed on TV and written about in college newspapers. But I've never made a dime. I've never achieved "success" in gold-plated Hollywood style letters.
At times one becomes weary.
And I have, after all, at last discovered what writer's block is, and become intimately familiar with it. It isn't when you run out of ideas, but rather when you don't know what to do next, and so you just give up and take it easy for a while and stop writing.
You can tell yourself that you just aren't feeling inspired right now. Or, worse, you can tell yourself nothing at all, but simply squander your extra days and hours playing video games or browsing the internet. It is easy to find a hole to sink into; you don't really have to look hard.
But the worst aspect of writers block is remembering that you were once tortured by ideas, and filled with longing to express them, and wondering where that passion went. Is life any better without that passion? Is life any easier?
And then you remember that you actually still have all of those ideas. Perhaps you've found a place to express some of them over the years, but for most of those ideas you are up against a block: The unbearable dissymmetry of concept and form. You want so much, like a God giving flesh to His Son, incarnate those ideas. You want to give them form, but you find yourself helpless to do so. You find that your mind is spinning, whirling in too many directions, and it leads you to a sort of insanity where you are completely incapacitated. It isn't the lack of ideas that is blocking you, but the lack of knowing what to do with them.
Your days become longer, and your dreams deeper. You awake late in the morning, and stay up late at night, because you are afraid to sleep, afraid of what you will find there.
It is the life of a tortured artist. And you are a victim - it isn't your fault. You couldn't have possibly chosen this life for yourself, and you'd be happy to give it all back. But what does giving it back mean? What it will it mean to sleep again in peace by night and awake early in the morning?
It would mean compromise. It would mean giving up.
The tortured artist is the artist that struggles with his own soul, but he does not do this alone, and it is not without meaning. He struggles with his own soul on behalf of humanity. He struggles to find his place in this world, so that others might find their own places. He struggles to find a place for his ideas, not because they are unique, but because they are universal. He struggles to give them flesh, to make them walk, talk and breathe. Even though some of them are foolish, empty, even evil, he must flesh them out, because he knows that along with the bad there is good, and that the good makes it all worth while. In the end, the wood, hay and stubble will be burned up, but the gold, silver and precious stones will endure the fire, and become universally beneficial.
I've found that I was wrong all those years ago. I am susceptible to writers block, but not because I run out of ideas. It happens when I give up the struggle. It happens when I accept mediocrity. It happens when I allow the every day cares of life to triumph over the soulful expression of ideas.
I hope and pray I will not let it happen again!
~ Gustav BenJava, Jan 06, 2007
This was just published by my good friend Gus BenJava over at:
http://writereader.blogspot.com/
I repost it here with permission...
~ Basil
The unbearable dissymmetry of concept and form
Many years ago I told a friend that I was a "tortured artist".
"You don't need to be a tortured artist," my friend replied. "No one needs to be a tortured artist. Plenty of people become successful artists without ever being tortured artists."
"Well, I assure you," I answered. "In my case it is not a choice. It maybe a choice for some people, but for me it is not a choice. I am tortured because my soul is tortured. Some element of my soul that I cannot control is tortured day and night."
"What does it mean to be a 'tortured artist'?" my friend asked. I knew my friend was waxing didactic at this point, but I went along because I thought it would be interesting and informative to see what she said.
"Well," I answered. "I have no idea what it means for most people to be a tortured artist. But in my case, when I say that I am a tortured artist, it means that I have too many ideas in my head and I cannot possibly express them all. I have ideas and dreams, and colors and shapes, and visions, and voices. Fragments of lines, and incomplete thoughts. Impressions and places, places that do not exist in this universe and places that do, and places that we fear might exist, and places where we long to look. There are places that we dread to bear the sight of, and visions of people and things, both hideous and marvelous at once.
"My head is full of such things night and day, day and night, and I cannot possibly express them all in a meaningful manner in one lifetime."
My friend was just looking at me mystified at this point, and so I continued.
"I have heard of writers block before. From what I understand, the concept is simple: a writer cannot think of what to write any more, so he sits idle for days, weeks, months, sometimes even years. I will never have writers block, because I cannot stop thinking of things to write."
"Don't you think that's a bit full of pride," my friend answered.
I had heard people say this before. I was quite certain they were mistaken.
"I am not boasting of any idea I've had. I'm not boasting of anything I've accomplished. On the contrary, I'm telling you about a mortal affliction. It is an illness. I am a tortured artist, not in name only, but because my soul is tortured day and night by all that I envision, and all that I cannot possibly accomplish."
My friend appeared about to laugh. Yes, just laugh in my face, I thought.
"Don't make yourself always to be a victim," my friend said.
This made me stop and think. Was I making myself a victim? It had never occurred to me that way before.
Well, that was the end of the conversation many years ago. I thought about that for a long time. Was I making myself a victim, by thinking that my lot in life was too much for any one man to handle?
Years later I met someone that told me, "the main thing you have to do is focus. We all have too many ideas. We all sometimes lose ourselves in the rush to be creative in a thousand different directions."
It wasn't long after this I met a man at a writer's conference who couldn't get his books published, couldn't get his poems published, couldn't get his music published, couldn't find anyone to publish his photography, and so on. It made me realize that a person could spread themselves out too thin with the creative instinct, and end up accomplishing nothing at all.
Well, now many years have gone by. I've written half a dozen novels, and self-published two of them, just because I wanted people to read them. I've written hundreds of poems and published the best of them in chapbooks and on the internet - mostly because I cannot stand sending things out to editors who aren't even going to bother to read them in most cases before they send them back and say "I'm sorry, it's not for us." I've also written dozens of stories and some of these I've published here and there on the internet.
I've had my poetry and stories found on the internet by people all over the world, and they've written to me (by email) about them. I've had poems selected for anthologies, and even accepted several requests by people that asked me if they could publish one of my poems in their magazines. I've had my poetry turned into a ballet, and had students ask me if they could quote me in their homework, and I've been interviewed on TV and written about in college newspapers. But I've never made a dime. I've never achieved "success" in gold-plated Hollywood style letters.
At times one becomes weary.
And I have, after all, at last discovered what writer's block is, and become intimately familiar with it. It isn't when you run out of ideas, but rather when you don't know what to do next, and so you just give up and take it easy for a while and stop writing.
You can tell yourself that you just aren't feeling inspired right now. Or, worse, you can tell yourself nothing at all, but simply squander your extra days and hours playing video games or browsing the internet. It is easy to find a hole to sink into; you don't really have to look hard.
But the worst aspect of writers block is remembering that you were once tortured by ideas, and filled with longing to express them, and wondering where that passion went. Is life any better without that passion? Is life any easier?
And then you remember that you actually still have all of those ideas. Perhaps you've found a place to express some of them over the years, but for most of those ideas you are up against a block: The unbearable dissymmetry of concept and form. You want so much, like a God giving flesh to His Son, incarnate those ideas. You want to give them form, but you find yourself helpless to do so. You find that your mind is spinning, whirling in too many directions, and it leads you to a sort of insanity where you are completely incapacitated. It isn't the lack of ideas that is blocking you, but the lack of knowing what to do with them.
Your days become longer, and your dreams deeper. You awake late in the morning, and stay up late at night, because you are afraid to sleep, afraid of what you will find there.
It is the life of a tortured artist. And you are a victim - it isn't your fault. You couldn't have possibly chosen this life for yourself, and you'd be happy to give it all back. But what does giving it back mean? What it will it mean to sleep again in peace by night and awake early in the morning?
It would mean compromise. It would mean giving up.
The tortured artist is the artist that struggles with his own soul, but he does not do this alone, and it is not without meaning. He struggles with his own soul on behalf of humanity. He struggles to find his place in this world, so that others might find their own places. He struggles to find a place for his ideas, not because they are unique, but because they are universal. He struggles to give them flesh, to make them walk, talk and breathe. Even though some of them are foolish, empty, even evil, he must flesh them out, because he knows that along with the bad there is good, and that the good makes it all worth while. In the end, the wood, hay and stubble will be burned up, but the gold, silver and precious stones will endure the fire, and become universally beneficial.
I've found that I was wrong all those years ago. I am susceptible to writers block, but not because I run out of ideas. It happens when I give up the struggle. It happens when I accept mediocrity. It happens when I allow the every day cares of life to triumph over the soulful expression of ideas.
I hope and pray I will not let it happen again!
~ Gustav BenJava, Jan 06, 2007
Friday, January 05, 2007
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