...and the Sun was Angry.

The sun is the most powerful force of energy, for all of life on our planet.  It is the center of our universe, everything in our solar system revolves around it.  Without the sun there is no Earth.  I had the pleasure of interviewing the sun recently, via satellite phone.  Once worshiped by a large percentage of the Earth's population, the sun has become an afterthought to many of us, and I wanted to ask him about these topics. 



Dan:  Hi Sun.  Thank you for granting me this first of it's kind interview.  How are you today?

Sun:  You're welcome.  I'm ok, feeling largely ignored lately, but I'm ok.

D:  You were once worshiped and revered by many cultures on Earth.  Today, most religions ignore your importance.  Would you care to discuss this? 

S:  Sure.  Up until a couple of hundred years ago, a large percentage of humans recognized my importance in your universe.  Ancient Egyptians, ancient European religions, Greek and Roman mythology, all considered me a god, and rightfully so.  I am more powerful than anything the Earth has ever seen.  The Mayans, the Aztecs and even Native Americans held ceremonies to honor me.  These people took care of your Earth, honored your land.  You humans have based your calendar and your time upon me.  You even named a day of the week after me.  As your technology has become more advanced, people have honored me less and began to rely more and more on your own intelligence.  Nobody respects your lands anymore.  Few people recognize my importance.  People are only interested in harvesting my solar power to fuel your technologies.  Even that is being hampered by greedy men, men who control other energy sources from your Earth. 

D:  How does all of this make you feel? 

S:  Thank you for asking Dan.  I don't think anyone has cared how the Sun feels, not in a really long time.  It all makes me angry.  It is frustrating to watch greedy human beings strip your lands of valuable resources.  It is frustrating that so few people honor me any more.  I feel ignored, unwanted, unappreciated.  I am the most powerful force in your universe.  Does no one care about me any longer? 

D:  I suppose no one has considered that you could be angry. 

S:  Why can't I be angry?  Have you not noticed how drastically your climate has changed in the past few hundred years?  Polar ice caps melting?  Radical storms and weather events?  Do you know who's behind all of that?  Me!  I control the wind, the temperature, your seasons!  And no one stops to ask why these things are happening?  Of course they don't.  If enough people stop to ask questions, the wealthy men in control of your Earth's resources will come under scrutiny.  But this can't last forever.  Ultimately, me, the Sun, is more powerful than all of the accumulated wealth on your planet. 

D:  Wow things must look really bad from your angle.

S:  It's much worse than any of your conspiracy theorists can dream.  Scientists have no idea.  Not even the ones who aren't owned by governments and big business.  I can only withhold my anger for so long.  I will not be ignored forever.  Yes, I control forever too.  If I burn out, humanity is through. 

D:  That's a scary thought.

S:  It should be terrifying.  I'm the center of your universe.  Without me, you are nothing.

D:  That does sound godlike. 

S:  You think?  Modern man scoffs at the outdated notion of worshiping me.  Your native peoples and their beliefs are studied and ignored, but those people and I got along well. 

D:  Are you saying that we should worship you?

S:  I think you should at least respect me.  I have the power to squash the Earth.  One solar outburst of a temper tantrum upsets all of your electronic equipment.  I've done it a few times, but it's merely a minor inconvenience to you.  I don't care what you worship, although I would point out that you can see me.  I actually exist.  Stay outside too long during your summer months and I will burn you.  Plant flowers and I will help them grow. 

Have you not realized the importance I have, even on your emotions?  Seasonal affective disorder?  If there isn't enough of me in your life, you get depressed.  I make people happy.  I like to see people happy.

  
D:  Are you saying that no other gods exist? 

S:  Sure.  Many gods exist.  Your moon controls the oceans.  Your Earth is a god.  It contains much power inside of it. 

D:  Are we worshiping the wrong gods? 

S:  None of the gods of the universe demand worship!  Humans and their need to bow to something is crazy.  The moon and I laugh at it all of the time.  No, but we need your respect.  Without your respect, your attention, your care, we will destroy your planet over time. 

D:  How do we show you our respect?

S:  Well, humans would have to stop destroying us first.  Stop destroying your ozone layer.  Stop destroying your planet's fresh water.  Stop mining all her material because of greed.  Damn it!  The greed of humanity is the one thing that aggravates me the most.  Humans are a weird bunch of people.  You will destroy yourselves.

D:  There are people trying to warn of climate change, of impending demise because of our actions. 

S:  Sure, but no one listens.  I'm the most powerful force in nature, but I can't make you guys stop destroying nature.  There's too much money in destroying your planet.  Until you guys stop placing so much importance on wealth, your solar system will continue to slowly die. 

D:  We're running out of time.  I've got some errands to run.  Any last words?

S:   I know that you have some errands to run with your wife Dan.  Be good to her.  She is one of the good one's, the good humans.  She has a strong connection with me.  This is why she enjoys Summer so much.  You too, by the way.  Write my story.  Tell people that I'm angry.  They won't listen, but you'll always know that I'm around to help your planet, at least for as long as humans allow me to be around.  

D:  Thank you for giving me your time.

S:  You're welcome. 



* Writer's note:  This piece is entirely a piece of fiction.  The views expressed here are not necessarily endorsed by the Sun.  But with all good fiction, there is a lot of truth. 

A Society of Meh.

According to the Webster's Dictionary app on my cellular phone, the word "meh" is defined as a word used to express indifference and mild disappointment. It was first used in 1994, according to the same app. However, Wikipedia, often not the most reliable source, says that it was first used in 1992 and is considered a verbal shrug of the shoulders.

I love words. You have to, if you want to be a writer. I've used the word "meh" on several occasions. Today it struck me, that we live in a society that is meh. 

I ain't no Dr. Phil or anything, but it appears that our society is losing the ability to feel.  We're losing the feelings on the edges of the feeling spectrum.  There are fewer highs and lows and we're all settling around "meh."  Meh is so dominant in our society, that it has crept into every aspect of our lives.  We don't think.  We don't feel.  We don't live.  We merely survive, exist, move about everyday shuffling from home to work, then back home again.  We warm up our microwave meals, sit in our chairs, watch whatever is on the television.  We believe what the news sources tell us and we shrug our shoulders with indifference, shuffling off to bed. 

Pinterest, Buzzfeed and the "how to lists" are killing our reliance on following our gut instincts.  Just today on Facebook, I saw "Signs That You are a Defensive Dater," "Five Things That Kill Relationships" and "21 Struggles of Being Single."  These are the things that we read daily.  These are the articles that are steering us.  There is no need to identify your feelings anymore.  Just wait long enough and someone will post an article telling you how you should feel. 

I'm still not Dr. Phil, and really, why would I want to be?  But I have learned from personal experience, that feelings are vital to my life.  I need the bad feelings; the sad, the lonely, the hopeless, just as much as I need the high feelings; the happy, the content, the accomplished.  When I get out of kilter, have more lows than highs, or highs than lows, it makes for an unhealthy human existence.  And that's the thing about a society of meh, it slowly kills of our human-ness. 

Human beings are meant to have various feelings.  Our feelings change from moment to moment, from day to day.  They are supposed to.  As we go about our day, interacting with others, our internal feeling meter wavers back and forth.  I may experience a mostly happy day, then read an article that makes me feel sad.  This is good.  That means that I'm aware of multiple feelings.  It is healthy to experience a range of them frequently. 

It is also in our nature, as humans, to desire to be comfortable.  The problem with this, is that our world has become too comfortable.  Technology and retail businesses have learned that making us comfortable is very profitable.  Unfortunately, we've become so comfortable that we have lost those fringe feelings. 

Once again, the last bastion of human feelings, rests in the hands and minds of the artists, the writers, the creative folks.  As a writer, it is crucial that I be able to identify what I'm feeling.  The stronger feelings, whether high, or low, are usually the springboards of some of my best work.  Without these feelings, I would only write "meh" work.  I don't want to write "meh" work.  I don't want to write things that make folks shrug their shoulders.  I want to write things that grab your attention.  I want to write things that cause you to stop and think.  I want to write things that inspire, make you feel, remind you that you're human.  I can't do those things if I'm constantly ignoring my feelings. 

Likewise, you can't fully enjoy an enriched human experience, unless you learn to find your feelings.  Take some time each day to stop, think, see what you're feeling.  Identifying your feelings just might be the most important thing you learn to do.  Shrug off the "meh" and learn to live. 

Is a Creative Life Better?

The most successful and talented artist that I've ever met, sent me an email this week.  He wrote "As you know, one of the problems with art is finding time.  A lack of energy and everyday dilemmas don't help."  He went on to ask "Does creative work make our lives better? When young I had no doubts..... The price for a life in art is high, the wages low."

His question "Does creative work make our lives better?" has been nagging at me ever since I read the email.  It hit home with me, especially when he mentioned "a lack of energy and everyday dilemmas."

Today, for instance, was a crazy, fucked up day at work.  I've worked 13 days in a row.  I'm scheduled to work at least the next seven days too.  I'm beyond tired.  My knees hurt.  The skin on my hands is dry and I have at least a dozen painful cracks around the nails and joints of my fingers.  My feet are tired.  My lower back is sore.  In addition to the long days on the factory floor, I'm dealing with constant requests for higher child support.  I'm in the middle of two different appeals on those matters now.  There will be court dates in the near future. 

So, why do I do this?  Does writing make my life better?  I haven't earned any money from writing in several years.  I haven't managed to get anything published.  Is writing worth the effort for me?  I make a decent hourly wage at my job.  I have great health insurance.  My wife and I enjoy a solid middle class living.  So why do I keep working on my writing?  What if I put all of this work and effort into writing and I never find any acclaim?

I am a writer.  Writing is part of who I am.  I wrestled with calling myself a writer for too many years.  Somehow, during those years of wrestling, I managed to amass quite the collection of original poetry.  I have completed a handful of short stories and I've written the beginning of at least 12 novels.  Two or three of those novels are 30-60 pages long.  I write several days a week, no matter how hard I toil in the factory, no matter how tired I am in the evening.  I often write when I don't feel like writing.  But why do I do this?  Why writing, where getting published is difficult and the competition is fierce?  Why tonight, when I could be laying in bed, vegging out with my beautiful wife and watching a movie?

There is something inside of me that drives me to write.  There are stories inside of me that I think should be told, emotions that are best expressed by writing words, ideas that I want to share.  I write because I am not a talented painter.  I can not sing very well.  I can't dance.  I can only play a couple of chords on the guitar.  I have no other means of creative expression other than tapping away on my laptop, scribbling on paper with my pen.  I write several nights a week, knowing that the things that I write won't be everyone's cup of tea.  I write consistently, because the more I write, the better I write and I know that if I ever want to earn a paycheck with my writing, I'm going to have to write better than the competition.  I read the competition.  I read their poems, their short stories, their novels and I know that I have a long way to go, a large gap to close, to get to their level.

Is it worth it?  Is it worth putting this much effort into creative expression?  Is it worth spending tired evenings trying to tell a story, knowing that the cost is high and the payout low?  Yes.  I have to believe it is, or I'd slowly stop doing it.  Perhaps when I'm old and I've spent all of these years writing, I will have a different opinion.  Next week when I log on to write the next weekly column, I will see how many people have viewed this one.  It varies from week to week.  Some weeks there are as few as 25 viewers, other weeks as many as 70.  I keep writing these columns anyway, because it helps keep me writing when I don't know what else to write.

That successful artist that sent me the email?  He's my Father-in-Law.  When I don't feel much like writing, I recall the stories that my wife tells me about him.  The stories of how he worked all day, then came home and painted all evening, often seven days a week.  These stories of his work ethic inspire me to keep working.

Despite all of his success, he's still sending me notes, encouraging me, an unknown blue collar writer, to keep writing, all the while asking himself if a creative life makes life better.  Yes sir, it does.  At the end of the day, when I near the end of life, I don't want to be known as "Dan who worked at Jeep."  I hope that I'll write well enough and often enough, that someone will remember me as "Dan the writer, the author, the poet."

Hodgepodge

A hodgepodge of happenings in my life over the last seven days:

My wife and I moved into a new home.  This is the first time that I've made an opportunity to write.  Notice that I said "made an opportunity," not "had an opportunity."  The last week was spent working my normal 10 hour shifts, then coming home and doing things around our new living space.  The new home is double the square footage of the previous two bedroom apartment that we inhabited.  I've been tinkering about, putting together desks, mounting televisions on wall brackets, changing worn light switches, building closet shelving systems and such.  I take a lot of pride in being able to do electrical work, some carpentry jobs, build cars on an assembly line and write a decent poem or two in the same week.  Ladies, if you can, find yourself a blue collar poet.  We're a rare breed. 

Last week, I had a conversation with the guys at work about homosexuality.  Men in factories are not necessarily known for their progressive viewpoints.  I am frequently referred to as the "commie atheist."  That is inaccurate.  I lean towards being a socialist, not communist.  I am sometimes surprised that deep homophobia still exists.  I'm not sure why men are afraid of gay men.  I guess I live in a sheltered "progressive" bubble.  The strong negative reaction that some people still have towards homosexuality is depressing. 

While on the topic of gay people, a friend engaged me in a Facebook instant message conversation about Michigan and Arizona's attempts to pass "Religious Freedom Bills."  These proposed laws are designed to allow religious folks to discriminate against others who are shunned by their beliefs.  For example; if the religion that you adhere to teaches homosexuality is a sin, you don't have to serve gays in your restaurant, you would be protected from having to treat them if you were a doctor, or fill their prescriptions if you worked in a pharmacy.  The laws could go so far as to protect you from issuing a drivers license to someone who was divorced. 

The law passed the house and senate in Arizona, only to be vetoed by the Republican Governor.  These laws are entirely unconstitutional and set a terrible precedent that individual liberties should be protected over the greater welfare of our nation.  Besides, if you subscribe to a religious idealology that allows you to blatantly treat another human as less than, based on who they are, then your religion is shitty. 

I pointed out to my friend, that the Declaration of Independence says that "all men are created equal."  It goes on to say that we are all endowed with certain "unalienable rights" and that our government was put in place to protect those rights for all humans.  I find it interesting that the Declaration doesn't specify that those rights are only reserved for citizens of the United States.  Of course, none of the people responsible for the Declaration or our original constitution, were born in the United States.  The Declaration also doesn't make any exceptions.  None.  Not for skin color, or sexual orientation.  Not for gender, or economic status.  There are no exceptions.  All human beings are born with these unalienable rights. 

The friend who instant messaged me lives in Texas.  I call him a friend, even though he and I have never met in person.  We've enjoyed a few hours of phone conversations and a few years worth of social media correspondance.  There is an interesting dynamic here to what friendship can mean in our digital age. 

My blog has officially been viewed 1,024 times as of today.  Sometime in the last week I hit the 1,000 mark.  It only took me four months to do that.  Thank you to those who regularly read and especially thank you, to those who share my column.  Sharing an artist's or writer's work, is one of the ways that you can help them get their work in front of more people. 

Speaking of writing.... I have five different poetry submissions floating around in the unsolicited submissions universe.  I have submitted two short stories to two different contests.  I continue to write a handful of poems each week and I am still working on a novel.  That's my writing update, in case you were wondering. 

Also, in case you were wondering, our new home features one central thermostat for the entire house.  This is awesome, because now everyone in the home can enjoy my wife setting the thermostat to two shades cooler than hell. 

Today, March 9th, marks the 21st anniversary of Charles Bukowski's death.  Last Saturday, my wife and I, along with our friend Mark, attended a memorial reading of Bukowski poetry.  It was held in a newly opened bar in downtown Toledo.  About half of the people that attended, mentioned that they didn't really like Buk, or most of his subject matter.  Buk wrote about sucking snatches, loving whores, getting into fist fights and his love of alcohol.  I understand that some of his subject matter doesn't appeal to everyone.  He was once referred to by Time magazine as the "laureate of the lowlife."  No one can deny that Bukowski was an extremely talented writer.  He wrote some of the best lines that I've ever read.  If you haven't yet done so, take a moment to find a Bukowski poem online today and read it.