Page Turning Underwater

My dad was a deep sea diver. Could go down for hours and not come up, if my mom would have let him. Granny was better at it, and there was nothing except the clock to tell her to come back up for air.  I guess I take after them, cause my mom can't stand it.  She has to live up here, in the real world, where things happen that are supposed to.  But not me... give me the depths of my imagination, and I'm all set.  Course, I have to get away from the electronic gadgets and visual whizbangs that constantly try to distract me.  And they do, most of the time.  I figured out that while I'm eating there's nothing else to distract me.  Definitely the easiest time for a dip is while eating.

Of course I'm not talking about wearing scuba gear and playing with the sharks.  A good reader never worries about saying anything without a layer or two of metaphors and imagery.  I remember being in the middle of the Mines of Moria, reading (or rereading) Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, on the way to getting an outdoor pool (what a disaster that was... never get an above-ground pool), and being so thoroughly engrossed that it took me a good 20 minutes to get back to reality.  It was like slowly coming up for air, because ascending too quickly will give you the bends.  

Then there was the day when I was sick with the flu, I think, because I had a 101° temperature, and the whole house was quiet, so I picked up the Illustrated Classic version of George MacDonald's At the Back of the North Wind and read it cover to cover in one afternoon.  I think going under kept me distracted from my sickness, and, like my brother who just sleeps his illnesses away, gave my body time to heal.  I absolutely loved the book... its calm, lyrical writing (which, as I have learned, is edited from a staccato 1800's Scottish to a more modern English), it's poignant ending, and upon reflection, the Allegorical meanings.

My favorite author to stay "underwater" with is Orson Scott Card.  I'd be reading, and reading, and reading, and then go to the kitchen for something to eat or drink, and while walking back to my bedroom, I would try and remember what amazing television show I was watching.  Turns out, of course, it was the movie going on in my head from the OSC book laying on my bed, waiting for me to finish.

I never understood why, in my dad's huge science-fiction/fantasy collection, there were few (if any) short story collections.  I mean, in school, we'd read short stories from Clifford D. Simak or Ray Bradbury, and they would be wonderful pieces of literature, a bite sized piece of glorious artwork (to mix metaphors).  You can't go wrong with Godwin's "Cold Equations," for pure science-fiction genius.  They are like watching an episode of The Twilight Zone or Star Trek, a snapshot of a universe, of a person's life.

But those metaphors don't work when it comes to reading, especially for my dad.  He read for escape, to immerse himself in a world and forget about this one for a while.  Same thing for my grandmother, who read for hours at a time.  And using this metaphor, that of going underwater, it's obvious why there were no short story collections in my dad's library.  Imagine going scuba diving in the clear, tropical waters of the Caribbean, with fish and underwater treasures everywhere. A world so different from ours, magical, in a way.  You could stay down there for hours, taking in everything under the waves.  Now imagine that instead of scuba gear, all you had was the breath you could hold, for thirty seconds at a time.  You couldn't follow a fish as it hides among the coral, or a small shark as it hunts for prey.  Rather, you just get glimpses of wonderment, and then it's back to the surface to breathe again.  Those are short stories to my dad.  Short stories don't provide an extended look into a world, into the entire lives of characters.

While I understand that, there are still amazing short stories that rival the best Twilight Zone episodes, if you know what authors can truly take those snapshots (mixed metaphor again) and make them memorable.  Right now I'm reading The Anything Box by Zenna Henderson, and I'm trying to figure out how she isn't Ray Bradbury.  That's how good she is, providing short, intense looks into the world of the supernatural, the unknown, and leaving each story screaming for a continuation. The only problem with short stories is that they "force" you to come up for air every time you finish a story, which I am not often ready to do yet.  And in today's world where escape is so desired, short stories just don't accomplish what long, meandering novels do.  But perhaps instead of lengthening the stories, we should adjust our reading habits, seeing beauty in short dives, and seeing the same beauty in the real world between times.

So in between those long dives into tomes deep, dark, and enchanting, maybe just a short trip, in the shallows of the human imagination.  Believe me, reading those stories will bring just as much magic as the 1000 page books that I go diving with each day.

The Road Goes Ever On

There's always something strangely alluring in a road or trail that winds its way over the horizon, or around a corner.  Where does it lead to?  What scenes of beauty lie just over the next hill? And what if the road never stops? If it just keeps going and going forever, where do you stop or turn around? At the moment of turning around, when the sights become something already seen, it loses its luster.  All that work never to return to that spot again, or to keep going. It's what I find intriguing about the trails I walk.  It's impossible to walk a trail and then turn around because you're tired, or because you've been at it too long, and know that there will be a part of that trail left undiscovered. Sure, I could walk it again, and continue down that path, but why put off that journey until tomorrow?

The Arabian Mountain Trails perplex with all those questions, as the trails are long, steep sometimes, and unless you're riding a bike (which I disagree with), it would take far too many steps to walk the entire thing, and it's difficult to know when to stop.  As for the bikes...I like Noel Paul Stookey's quote on his album Reel to Real, that there's two ways to miss things, either it goes by too fast, or we go by too fast.  The signs on the pathway always talk about controlling your speed on a bike, to pass people only on the left, as if you would be going so fast as to hit them.  Well, you're going too fast. I've seen rabbits, chipmunks, roosters, deer, a really large turtle, lizards, and a couple of snakes I didn't want to bother, all on the trails I've walked.  Which animals would the biker have seen? And the scenery, the sun shining down through the trees with an other-worldly glow, the creeks flowing by with water never to be seen again, do they see these things? Sometimes you have to watch the trees grow, watch the rings form to really appreciate all that's around you.

The joy really is in the journey, as I've quoted before.  It's so much fun to see your goal in sight, and in this case, the place where three trails meet, the spot almost equidistant from the three parking lots. But so much more enjoyable is getting there, through the heat and humidity, the rain (which I did today. I found that the main problem was water getting in my eyes, the wetness didn't bother me), the sun beating down on you.  I found that the best walks I've had were with the sun shining overhead, and me going through so many trails and experiencing the freedom of being absolutely alone and "off the grid," as it were.  For the path is a choice, what road you go down is, in the best of circumstances, entirely up to you.  There are no parents to decide what path to take, no societal norms, no pressure from job or religion or politics... just you and the path, and the sun and the grasshoppers flitting about.

One other thing, while I don't usually sing while I'm walking, I did discover that, at the end of the walk, singing actually helps to regulate breathing, provides tempo and rhythm to your walk. I guess that's why there are so many travelling songs out there.  Pick any James Taylor album, there's bound to be one on there.  Probably the most fitting song for this blog is J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Road Goes Ever On," with the lyrics and video below.

The Road Goes Ever On

The Road goes ever on and on             

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

Phintastic and Ferbalicious

Escapism and the Disney Channel

Ray Bradbury painted a picture of our world, in "The Pedestrian," one of glowing windows, blue and flickering, with televisions on and running, far into the night. The street lights in the neighborhoods illuminate nothing, for no one is out, even in the evenings, sitting on rocking chairs as they did before the invention of the picture box. I will admit it freely, the television plays a key role in my getting to sleep at night. There's nothing like the inane ramblings of Sportscenter to erase all pesky thoughts from your mind, resulting in the descent into the dream world.

But during the day...ah...that is when the television truly shines as a vehicle of escape. Tolkien once called the need for escapism heroic. Using the metaphor of the prisoner, he states, "Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?" ("On Fairy Stories" from The Tolkien Reader) In such a time as this, when the flood of information both depressing and horrifying, there is a great need for escapism, for books and television shows that bring us out of the world of adult responsibility and into the blissful innocence of Blake's "Lamb".

I can honestly say that I love the Disney Channel. While the movies they've produced, both animated and live, haven't really done anything for me (the last Disney Movie I really liked was The Thirteenth Year, which was made in 97.), their recent sitcom series have been absolutely amazing. Yes, the characters are stereotyped and flawed (the intelligent poor character, the rich stupid character, the idiotic parent...), and the episode plots so predictable that you can see the ending for miles. But there's something about the world that they have created that makes it very appealing. In each episode, life's problems are solved within 22 minutes (11 for Phineas and Ferb). If only real life were like that. And while sit-coms have been doing this for years (watch an episode or two of Full House, if you can stomach it), Disney has perfected the style and made it applicable not only for children, but for adults as well.

Phineas and Ferb deserves more discussion. It's the best show on television, and it could last as long as The Simpsons because it's animated, and summer can last much longer than the 104 days the title sequence talks about. The writers also worked on Family Guy, and so P&F contains quick glimpses of adult culture while remaining accessible for children of any age. I could, and have, just left that show, along with Suite Life, Hannah Montana, and Wizards of Waverly Place, on all afternoon, while doing chores, taking a nap, or whatever, and it wiles the hours away. Now if they could only switch Nickelodeon's ICarly with Disney's deplorable Sonny with a Chance, I would have all the good shows on one station.

Each show is entirely livable. As if in a dream. I could live on the S.S. Tipton forever, or aside the beach near Hannah Montana's house.... great stuff. It's why they are all escapist television shows. Assuredly, most of the shows on nowadays are just that, but none that looks back quite as well into the world of naivete and innocence as those on the Disney Channel. Reality shows show people conniving and primitive, fighting amongst themselves for food, power, love, money. It is the wost type of sport. Leave "Reality" TV to find a pastime worse than the Ancient Romans could have ever dreamed. Or, as in American Idol, they show people whose dreams are crushed, evaluated, and eliminated, all by "celebrity" judges. Dramas and other sitcoms on network TV show the vilest of human creatures, and they point out that even the good guys have their flaws. It is rare and unexpected when Law & Order leaves you with and ending with everything tied up. It mostly leaves you hanging, wondering, questioning the justice of the world that it portrays. I can barely watch these shows.

Rather, if I have to choose the television shows to watch, I would switch between Disney Channel and Star Trek, as that show looks forward into the future of what man can become, even if it is unrealistic. The fantasy world Roddenberry created is one of potential, of the success and preservation of the best of mankind. There is very little positivity in the shows anymore, and it is a gem to actually find a show that does.
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When philosophers and historians look back at the time following WWII, they'll label this period The Age of Escapism.... Brief history esson:

Reason: ~1650-1776 (Man is capable of knowing anything)

Romanticism 1776-1865 (Man lives in a world with Physical and Supernatural realms, and we must strive for the unknown, knowing it is a futile task.)

Realism 1865-WW1 (Man lives in reality only, and Nature is cold and uncaring)

Modernism WW1-WW2 (Man must question whether he exists at all, nothing really matters, communication is impossible, all history has failed us, and we must struggle to find something new.)

This is, of course, a brief and probably very simplistic look at how mankind has looked at his world. To this, I would add, from 1945 to now, the Age of Escapism. Man can live in this world, but as so much information floods his mind, it becomes impossible to grasp a hold of anything. Therefore, we should live in worlds of fantasy, letting that which we cannot understand go unacknowledged.

I could actually write a book detailing how our world has convinced us that living in worlds of fantasy is the best action to take. From Brave New World (Huxley) to the ideas of Communism and Socialism, to the Youth Revolution of the 1960's, it all can point back to the idea that mankind can live in fantasy worlds while those who want the power (who also are living in fantasy worlds) take care of us.

As soon as the world had the ability to create the material goods that it does now, thanks mostly to capitalists like Henry Ford and his mass production of goods on assembly lines, people started to advertise that this or that item could change the world. And I don't just mean television, although that invention opened up people's minds to worlds far beyond what mere books could contrive. Capitalism in America created the wealth necessary to allow people to chase after their own fantasy worlds. To pursue their addictions, from food (now available in microwaveable, artificial goodness), to drugs and sex, to the endless halls of the Internet, where any fantasy can become real, as long as it's made of HTML language.

The mass production of books also allowed authors to write more and more books, letting their minds wander as far as they could perceive, and the great boom of science fiction and fantasy genre fiction was born. It is odd that the creation of Epic Fantasy, mostly thanks to Tolkien, only happened in the 20th century, instead of centuries before. And now dragons, vampires, wizards, amongst the other space aliens, etc... now pervade our books and our imaginations. For every mind that exists, there is an ideal world to escape to, when the labors of everyday life get too taxing.
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So I shall go home this afternoon, turn on the Disney Channel, and forget about the things I should be doing, about the world around me, and tread water. It's not the most productive thing to do with my life. It's not going to get me further in life, but it reminds me, amongst all the tragedy and "reality" of this world, that things could be, or might be better. In this way, I'll get the best of both worlds.