Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Meaning of Life

Once upon a time, there was a girl who could do anything in the world she wanted.  All she had to do was choose something and focus.  So one day she sat down in front of a blank canvas and began to paint.  Every stroke was more perfect than the next, slowly and gracefully converging to build a flawless masterpiece.  And when she eventually finished painting, she stared proudly at her work and smiled.

It was obvious to the clouds and the stars, who were always watching over her, that she had a gift.  She was an artist.  And she knew it too.  She felt it in every fiber of her being.  But a few moments after she finished painting, she got anxious and quickly stood up.  Because she realized that while she had the ability to do anything in the world she wanted to do, she was simply spending her time moving paint around on a piece of canvas.

She felt like there was so much more in the world to see and do – so many options.  And if she ultimately decided to do something else with her life, then all the time she spent painting would be a waste.  So she glanced at her masterpiece one last time, and walked out the door into the moonlight.  And as she walked, she thought, and then she walked some more.

While she was walking, she didn’t notice the clouds and the stars in the sky who were trying to signal her, because she was preoccupied with an important decision she had to make.  She had to choose one thing to do out of all the possibilities in the world.  Should she practice medicine?  Or design buildings?  Or teach children?  She was utterly stumped.

Twenty-five years later, the girl began to cry.  Because she realized she had been walking for so long, and that over the years she had become so enamored by everything that she could do – the endless array of possibilities – that she hadn’t done anything meaningful at all.  And she learned, at last, that life isn’t about possibility – anything is possible.  Life is about making a decision – deciding to do something that moves you.

So the girl, who was no longer a girl, purchased some canvas and paint from a local craft store, drove to a nearby park, and began to paint.  One stroke gracefully led into the next just as it had so many moons ago.  And as she smiled, she continued painting through the day and into the night.  Because she had finally made a decision.  And there was still some time left to revel in the magic that life is all about.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Dream Diary - Evening of Saturday December 11. 2010

I am in a futuristic barracks, some sort of industrial military building. I am born. I am myself, but I am born. Made by whoever is responsible for this facility. A boy is helping me. He seems to know what is happening. Rushing under constrained time. He gives me a handful of pages with instructions printed on them. I read them, not understanding fully, but absorbing their content. They're mechanical. Time is running out. The guards are coming, but they are distracted by something, or can't get into this room for some reason. I am unaware of the urgency of the situation. The boy activates a machine. 30 SECONDS flashes on the display. Soldiers begin to pour in. They are not quite aware of the importance of right here and now. READY! "Get in" the boy commands. His voice is shaky with stress. I do. I sit down, placing my arms, head and legs into the machine. The Commander enters. With a glance, an "oh fuck" expression marks is face. The machine starts clamping armour onto my body. It's a pure white exoskeleton - war amour. I inherently understand. It is finished. The guards worriedly begin to fire, some standing their ground, others running. The Captain knows what he has to do. I need to rendezvous at the train shaft. The fighting begins. The suit enhances me in every way. I am stronger, faster, more aware. I lead down to the level below. The Captain follows. I burst through locked blast doors and run down a twisting array of hallways. I make it to the train tubes and go. I'm sliding down the rails - the Captain is capable. He ensues. He loves the metal. He laughs. He is communicating with someone over the link in his ear. We go faster, dodging trains through the tunnels. I slide into another tunnel. A train full of people is stopped on the tracks. Another train is barreling through the tunnel in its direction. I need to help them, but I know better. It's a trap. I slow, passing by the train. The people inside are afraid. Some are crying. The rails have been switched. I know that it's Their doing. They want me back. I shoot a blast at the rail switch and the train begins to move. They'll make it. By now the Captain has caught up. He draws his pistol. I grab his arm. He is strong. We struggle - shots being fired. I wrestle the barrel of the gun into the direction of his ribs. BANG! BANG BANG! He's bleeding and weakening. He will survive. I go. I need to get out. 4316A TUBE. I burst out of the station. Someone is waiting. She is not with Them, but she looks the part. She's an inside woman. She leads me to where I need to be. I thank her and go. I'm gone. Into the next tube. Gravity has a funny way here. I'm floating, nearly flying, running on the walls. There are others around me. They are not a threat. They are here to guide me. The end of the tube. It's very open, and goes downwards. I'm falling now. Down and forwards, very slowly. Floating. There are insanely beautiful plants all around me. The colours and leafs are too great to keep track of. It's as if I am sinking deeper into an ocean. I brush the leaf of one of the aquatic-like plants. The entire organism explodes into a symphony of harmonies, one note playing and a colourful light flashing each time one leaf touches the next. I flick the next one. It does the same. The song is new, the shape and colours unique, but it harmonizes with the last one so perfectly. This continues the whole way down. I make it. A am safe. I have arrived. I am a Rebel.