Gulls

It's starting out as one of those days that I seem to be overthinking everything and worrying incessantly. I don't want to bore anyone with the array of family health issues I suddenly find myself thinking about. But, it did serve to catapult my mind into a philosophical mode. It happens. I can't avoid it. Watching an early morning newscast thinking about the sick and ailing people in my life, I remembered a piece I wrote some years back for a creative non-fiction writing contest. I found the file and read it again. I thought I'd share it here. Enjoy:


GULLS


Where do profound thoughts come from? Why are they random and infrequent? If we ever have even one then, clearly, we have the capacity for more. So, how do we make them happen and keep them coming?

These are certainly tough questions, and to my way of thinking, no ready answers; maybe even unanswerable altogether. What is it about an otherwise run-of-the-mill brainstorm that elevates it to such status? Could it be life’s upheavals; or, simply one of those rare occasions when over-thinking suddenly, and inexplicably, takes a backseat to universal wisdom? Why is it that we must wait like a drooling Homer Simpson for electrical blips in the brain to jump synaptic ends in some particular order?

These questions I'll leave for others to ponder for now. But, there are a few things I’ve learned along the way worth sharing. Enlightenment can begin with an event no more complicated than watching seagulls, or, so I’ve come to believe.

Before we get to the gulls, there have been two occasions when seemingly benign comments created circumstances sending my outlook on life sailing off in new directions, like a pinball hitting that hundred-point bumper and lighting up the machine.

Through my teens and twenties, life was a rather steep uphill battle. At the time, a serious concern was on the order of wondering whether my last ten dollars, three days before payday, would buy gasoline, groceries, or split between the two. Those were the good old days. At the time, I was ecstatic to have that ten-dollar-bill so there was a choice to be made.

When the thirties came along, income increased and money worries leveled out, even disappeared to a great extent. Life was good.

It’s easy to see in retrospect. We spend our young lives climbing ladders of success but once there and step off onto a plateau of accomplishment, it is only comfortable as long as no one pushes us from it – funny thing about plateaus, no down escalator, only lethal drops.

Working in the television business in a small Texas market in the seventies and early eighties was a joy. But, a day came that the station sold and management changed. Suddenly, I didn’t fit. Fear of losing an investment of many years pressed my Chicken Little button. Everyday, it seemed calamity lurked just out of sight. Twice the time and thrice the effort were spent to simply remain employed. No matter. Goals had been raised to unreasonable limits, support systems removed. They wanted me gone.

Sitting at the kitchen table one Saturday when my parents had come for a weekend visit, the oh-woe-is-me poured out like self-indulgent vomit. Mother tried to be supportive but eventually tired of hearing it. “Nothing lasts forever,” she said abruptly, “Stop worrying about it.”

Comments don’t get more basic, benign or non-threatening than that. But, for me, at that time, it was a life-altering revelation – a bullet between the eyes exploding a sacred myth that that job should be till death do us part. What the heck was I thinking?

Then came profundity number two. Near the end of that situation, dealing with inevitability wasn’t exactly second nature but manageable.Years of honing a craft of selling television advertising could not be lightly set aside. It was still an obligation to find suitable promotional vehicles for my clients. Admittedly, some of that was to impress superiors, to show them what they would be missing when the ax finally fell.

Agonizing over a proposal and worrying aloud about it distracted a coworker sitting at a nearby desk. He said, “It’s just fucking television, not brain surgery. Not a single life will be lost if it doesn’t work. Stop worrying about it.”

I discovered lightning could strike twice, and did. That comment, made in passing, and in jest, scars my psyche to this day. It’s an amusing little blemish. Its one of those guiding forces referred to often, substituting the word “television” with the problem of the month. The profanity never changes. It fits all situations nicely. I had become a lightning rod, arms fanned wide looking to the skies waiting for the next bolt of wisdom from the blue. Incidentally, that former coworker holds a special place in my memory. He’ll likely never know that he provided a springboard for a life’s change. All he wanted was a laugh, and that he did, ad nauseam.

Both pivotal episodes shined a harsh light on a simple truth; profound statements are not necessarily profoundly substantive.When the mind is open, wisdom flows in. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not. It only changes the focus on the same question. Where do profound thoughts come from and what is it that makes them so?

So, now the query is: How does one go about opening a mind? It’s certainly not like flipping a light switch. Answers have to be as varied as personalities.

The sixties brought on various chemical hallucinogens. Part of the hippy movement was an effort to tap cosmic intelligence to garner secrets of the universe. The Dalai Llama and his followers believe meditation is the key, while indigenous Americans felt that chanting mantras while sapped of energy and sleep deprived to be the portal to universal secrets. All good and, maybe, true. But, sometime, a simple summer vacation and a day at the beach can do the trick.

It was daybreak. With a steaming coffee mug in one hand and a folding chair in the other, I walked to the beach, no other plan in mind than to greet the day while listening to the music that was surf crashing on the beach, ready to get a vacation underway.

After settling in, the rhythmic sound of surf and the stiff steady breeze worked its magic. Troubles drained away – ah, sweet peace of mind. It felt good. Nothing to think about and no problems to solve, just let sounds of relentless crashing waves have their rapturous way.

And then an odd sight; a number of seagulls gathered at the water’s edge, all looking into the rising sun, unmoving, even against the stiff breeze blowing parallel to the pulsing water coming up to cover their feet, threatening to blow them over. Strong gusts pushed the birds sideways, but they seemed to be refusing to relinquish the rigid stance. It was as if those birds saw something worth holding their place on the beach for.

It was reminiscent of a movie where angels gathered on a beach, all facing east into the rising sun, just as these birds were doing. Is it possible the director of that movie was influenced by the same sight, seagulls watching a sunrise?

As a reason was sought for the phenomenon, a cloud drifted across the still-rising sun, shooting streamers of God’s light in all directions.

The gulls stood against the wind, virtually motionless though feathers ruffled. How easy it would have been, at any other time, to pass lightly over the sight and dismiss what those creatures must have seen as reverent. In their way, they appeared to be giving thanks for surviving long enough to see another sunrise?

The squeal of a small child startled me.

In the opposite direction, some distance away, stood a child that seemed to demand attention. So excited by the view of the waves, he refused to contain pent up enthusiasm any longer.

People began coming out to enjoy this tiny slice of what the world has to offer. In both directions, as far as could be seen, people walked to the beach, as if the hand of the director of that movie had cued them to do so at the same time.

The gulls, the eternal pounding of the surf, and all those people electrified my then receptive mind. The temporal nature of life coupled with the roll and crash of waves served as a strong reminder. A hundred years from that snapshot in time no one on the beach would likely be alive, very few on the entire planet, yet the gulls would still greet each new day and the surf would still pound the beach, just as it was doing at that very moment.

I shuddered.

When life’s drudgery drags us down, and it will, someone close will certainly crack wise, “In a hundred years from now, who’s going to care?”

Now, that’s wisdom, and profound, too.

Enjoy this day. Life’s short.

Seriously, Laugh About It

Moments ago, I was watching, what has come to be, my favorite morning news show. And, I certainly am not the demographic that show is after. It’s CW33 in Dallas. They treat serious news seriously but when it comes to the absurd they don’t just laugh at it but poke at. They have made me realize how precious little news that is aired today could be considered serious; like politicians standing before us and saying we have no debt crisis, and doing it with a serious face. How could that not be funny? Or, what about the Kardashians, Justin Bieber, Lindsay Lohan, and all the other celebrities that are now treated as real news stories? I laugh anytime a news anchor says anything with a straight face about people like this, with precious few exceptions.


As I sipped my coffee and watched the three co-anchors, with a smile of course, the phrase “life’s lighter moments” did a dipsy-doodle out of the cosmos right into my head. Once there, it traveled in a circle and I began to contemplate it. For some inexplicable reason, I often latch onto common words and phrases, give them a thorough mental massage and see what falls out.

Why does the lighter side of life consist only of moments, flashes in time, nano-bits of our time on earth? But, arguably, that’s all we tend to afford it. Why not take life’s lighter moments and turn them into days, months, or even years?

Often, I hear someone complain that a friend or family member doesn’t take life seriously enough. Maybe I’ll take this musing to the next level when I hear this and ask: Okay, what would “serious enough” look like?

I believe there’s a solid reason the elderly tend to revert to acting like their prepubescent selves and diminishing mental capacity plays a smaller role than we might think. The way I see it, our senior citizens spent a lifetime figuring out that there’s more to laugh at than cry about, more to smile about than frown at, and more to chuckle at than growl about.

Who knows? Our mental institutions may be full of happy, laughing people that are saner than any of us.

If you can’t find something to laugh about today, you won’t have much of a day.

Cheers, y’all.


Author of
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/mainstream/print & ebook
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/action-adventure/print & ebook
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ historical drama/ ebook only
“Trouble”, short story/CrossTIME Science Fiction Anthology, Vol. IX/print only
“Dancing Away”/ short story/romance/Untreed Reads/ebook only
“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”/ATTM Press/soft science fiction/print & ebook
“Helping Hand For Ethan/Rogue Phoenix Press/young adult/print & ebook
“Phobia”/Booktrope/suspense-thriller/print & ebook
“Defining Family”/Whiskey Creek Press/young adult/print & ebook
“The Last Radiant Heart” (re-release)/Sage Words Publishing/science fiction/print & ebook
COMING SOON
“Hackberry Corners, Texas 1934”
“Zero To Love”

Search Daniel Lance Wright on Amazon.com

Living Life By Degrees

Today I continue living life by degrees, literally. This, I’m sure, requires an explanation.

It might appear that, once again, I virtually vanished from the blogging and social media scene. And, in a way, I did. January 15th I had total knee replacement in my right leg, the result of age and an injury that ended a football career before the age of sixteen. I’ll leave that part of the story for another day. Such surgery is neither unusual nor isolated. In fact, I have many friends and acquaintances that have undergone the procedure. All but one that I sought opinions from indicated it had been a good decision to get it done. That was all I needed to hear after suffering for a number of years with a bowed leg and pain.

I totally underestimated the amount of time and pain involved in the rehabilitation process afterward.

If I’m not manipulating and stretching the joint at home, I’m icing it several times a day, plus going in for supervised physical therapy regularly. It’s not only exhausting but leaves little time for anything else. I had been working on a novel that I haven’t added a single word to since the second week of January. (By the way, hydrochodone I’m taking for pain is a creativity killer. It sort of makes me not care about anything.)

The orthopedic surgeon filled my head with scary stories of racing scar tissue before it set up and ruined my range-of-motion that might require additional surgery just to scrape it away or risk limited mobility permanently. I began physical therapy with a dismal 32 degrees of flexibility. I had to get it beyond 90 degrees within the first month and to between 110 and 120 degrees within six weeks. Now you can see why I’m living life by degrees. Currently, I’m at a 105 degree bend and breathing a bit easier and taking less pain medication. So, here I sit, blogging. It's worth noting, though, I haven’t had a pain pill yet today. I actually seem to have a few successfully firing synapses.

I’m almost ready to hit the resume button on life, but not quite. If you’ll excuse me, I must go ice the damn thing again. It’s swelling just sitting here.

Too Important To Ignore

As I’ve mentioned before, my motivations in life are seldom politically motivated. I’m the quintessential middle of the road independent in that regard. But, I heard something on the news yesterday that brought on a tingle of fear that to most folks may have been barely worth a shoulder shrug, considered business as usual in America.


Earlier this year, I published through ATTM Press a science fiction novel predicated on a global economic collapse that even two hundred years later had not resolved. It’s called “Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”. As a plot setting, it left the world in what might be described as a post-apocalyptic condition without a single bomb having to explode anywhere. The world plunged into survival mode with all advanced technology vanishing over time and even some basic technology is left in need of restoration. And, it all began with overwhelming and broad-reaching greed. I mention this because it is why the news story yesterday wrecked my thoughts for the remainder of the day and led me to post this.

It was reported yesterday that one of the largest banks in the world, HSBC, was basically slapped on the wrist for laundering money for criminal and terrorist organizations worldwide. Let me point out that this action cannot be more criminal. They were fined 1.93 billion dollars (thereabouts) or roughly five percent of last year’s profits with no person, persons or group within the organization being held accountable with prison or a conviction of any kind. Prosecutors said that they were “too big to prosecute”. Reasons given were that it would cost too many jobs and create too much turmoil in world markets.

Wouldn’t smaller banks move in to pick up the slack in a matter of weeks if HSBC had their charter yanked? Wouldn’t all the honest employees find other employment at other banks as soon as that happened? I’ll answer both questions with a resounding yes, of course. It’s a slap in the face of our economic system to believe otherwise.

Wouldn’t it serve humanity better to demand honesty and accountability through the law, regardless of size or influence of the accused? Were lucrative promises made behind closed doors in exchange for leniency? Were politicians threatened with forfeiting massive campaign contributions? Were government leaders promised under-the-table favors of any kind? Again, I answer with yes; in fact, I think I’ll say, “Hell yes!” There can be no other explanation for a company being given the equivalent of a traffic citation for a crime of such immensity.

A few years ago the government bail-out was given because certain companies were “too big to fail” and “too big to prosecute” is the next step toward problems of monumental and uncontrollable scope. What next? Will government willingly hand over control of certain aspects of power because the company is “too big to say no to”? From my perspective, we are there in many ways already, especially if our leaders are bold enough to say aloud, “They’re too big to prosecute” without tongues planted in cheeks.

In my novel, “Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy”, the protagonist bemoans stupidity at a pivotal point in our nation’s economic history just prior to an irreversible collapse by stating, “The affairs of government was reduced to an office between the janitor’s closet and restrooms within corporate headquarters and served no other purpose than to print money on demand and make speeches on behalf of the company.”

“Annie’s World: Jake’s Legacy” is science fiction but the current state of our nation and world indicates it may become non-fiction in my lifetime.

A Nutty Kind of Wisdom

Early yesterday morning, I sat at this keyboard, fingers at the ready, attempting to force out creativity that might miraculously advance my latest novel toward some sparkling conclusion in the next couple of months. Picture, if you will, flushing rocks down a toilet and expecting them to go somewhere. Okay, now you know how hopeless my effort was, regardless of the pain in my head that followed. That pain was the only thing created.


Later, I finally gave up, grabbed a bowl full of freshly gather pecans, snatched up the cracker and then headed for the front porch. I was wearing shorts, flip-flops and a sleeveless T-shirt in eighty degree weather and began shelling pecans. The fact that it’s December and so warm is a complaint and a post for a different day. I will say, though; if I wanted this kind of weather in the last month of the year, I’d move to the tropics and at least have a beach nearby, but, enough of that.

Back to creativity; here’s something I’ve known all along but apparently needed to be reminded of, as do all people that have anything to do with the arts: Ideas and brilliant thoughts occur only when the head is clear of extraneous influences. A mindless endeavor like shelling pecans is a good way to make ideas flow, or working out at the gym, or jogging –things that require no brainpower. Forcing creativity does... not... work... ever. I’ll debate it with anyone because my mind is firmly set on this issue.

There are extremely talented novelists that are far above my pay grade that do inspired work. I’ve read novels that were so good, I committed to following the author’s work from then on, only to discover the next one to be disappointing and, maybe, the third one as well.

Dare I go so far as to call them crap? Ooh, close call, but yeah I will.

And then, a couple of years will pass and the same author will release another inspired work. In retrospect, I’m convinced that what transpired was strictly a commercial commitment. It appeared that the author agreed to a multi-book deal – the second and third written solely to sell on the weight of the author’s name.

Would I do this? Hell, yeah! What author in his/her right mind would turn it down? But, it’s not the point I’m trying to make. It simply spotlights that inspired writing requires inspiration. Yes, a fat paycheck is one form but, again, not my point. I’m speaking specifically and only of creative inspiration.

So, here’s the thing: On those days you feel as though your brain has lost every wrinkle and glossed over like the proverbial cueball, then grab a bowl of pecans and hit the porch... or something like that.

Have a great day, y’all.

The Latest Review of "Annie's World: Jake's Legacy"

Another review of "Annie's World: Jake's Legacy" is in. Of course, all reviewers are different, but overall I'm happy with what avid readers are saying.        -dlw
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New! LAS Reviewer "The Long and the Short Of It Reviews" reviewed Annie's World: Jake's Legacy
Fantastic Read November 8, 2012

Would you take a dangerous risk to save a stranger's child? Is it better to be thought of as a hero or increase your odds of living to see another day?

Jake's made some difficult decisions during his life. Surviving in a lawless society often means making tough choices and yet when he meets a newly orphaned girl named Annie, Jake discovers how quickly even the most deeply entrenched priorities can shift. To be honest I didn't particularly care for Jake at first due to choices he made early on. While they were understandable given the harsh environment in which he was living I had some trouble moving past them and getting to know the person he eventually becomes.

The magic happens during Jake's slow transformation as the plot thickens. It was a pleasure to see how even small, seemingly inconsequential decisions affected his character and my favourite part of this tale by far was getting to see how one change would eventually spur another.

The political message in this book was a little heavy-handed. Every time Jake talks about how society slowly crumbled over the course of a few generations due to the greed of corporations and the wealthy the story is temporarily knocked off course. It would have been more effective to spend more time showing how much the common person has suffered instead of having the main character repeat himself so often. Multiple punctuation and grammatical errors also distracted my attention from the plot.

Annie's World: Jake's Legacy is a frightening look at one possible future awaiting mankind. I'd recommend it for anyone who has ever wondered what life might really be like if there was no such thing as a centralized government and if the only law of the land was survival of the fittest.


Originally posted at LAS Sci-Fi/Fantasy Reviews

Unplugged

I'm really enjoying the new television series "Revolution". And, although, I think the method of power failure a bit too fanciful, I don't think it's ridiculous at all to consider the potential reality of such a world. I thought I'd re-post an earlier submission. Maybe I should've written a screen proposal to the network in May, 2011 when I first posted this.
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Geeks Shall Inherit The Earth.
Something I think about often, and worry about a little, too, is that our entire functioning world hinges on those things that can be plugged in to a power source. As tech toys flood world markets at an alarming rate, we as humans, and supposedly sentient beings, are actually losing our humanity at the same speed. We are but a collection of numbers and symbols in a database somewhere and, therefore, living and existing at the pleasure of people who know how to manipulate those numbers and symbols.

I think, though, I want to take this discussion in a slightly different direction. Let me set a hypothetical scenario for you. Let’s say it’s the year 2012 and Osama bin Laden’s replacement is much savvier about technology than his predecessor—not how to use it, but what ceases to happen without it. Politicians and power moguls can argue all they like that we have too many redundancies in our grid system to worry much about terrorism on electricity production. I’ll only buy into that premise to a point. For the most part, I choose to believe that such talk is self-serving to maintain central control even as many different companies distribute power. The reason is simple, distributors distribute, they don’t produce.

How many remember the northeastern power outage of 1965; how about the one in 2003? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northeast_Blackout_of_2003 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northeast_Blackout_of_1965

It’s not worth boring you with technical jargon or excuses for the outages. I’m not intelligent enough for that anyhow. But, what is fascinating to note, is how little it took to take down a huge chunk of the northeastern United States in an instant. And both times it stayed down for a frighteningly long period. Now, multiply that by two or three other central power producing locations.

I think you know where I’m going with this; the U-S, with the possible exception of the military, would be blind, deaf and dumb. How long do you think it would take for panic and mayhem to set in, sides chosen and warring tribes to emerge battling over scraps of food?

I challenge each one reading this to look around and count the number of young people you personally know that have no clue how a loaf of bread is made or what from, where ham comes from or how to make it, how to make cheese or butter, have never gathered eggs from a coop, have no idea how to spin yarn, sew, weave, build a chair from tree branches, or even something as simple as walking into an open pasture and knowing what is edible and what is poison. This list could go on and on. Unfortunately, these are the people that now rule the world and are currently breeding offspring that think their futures hinge on new products from Apple and Microsoft or how well the stock of one investment company does versus another, or what political party will best serve them.

I think I’ll get to work writing a novel of catastrophe and call it, “The Geek That Inherited The Earth” or maybe, “The United States Unplugged”. Of course neither have much hope of a happy ending if I insist on too many truisms. I would have to go whole hog and create a fantasy world because, really, who’d believe society could collapse just because someone pulled the power plug. Absurd. Right?