What makes a hero?
Is it the legacy they leave behind? The stories told over and over, slowly changing and evolving as the ripples of their actions echo across time?
Is it their daring deeds, which fill witnesses with hope? The choices they make that spread the habit of heroism to all affected? The inspiration they send coursing through the veins of society?
Is it the challenges they overcome? The singular villain or the faceless resistance of the masses? Is it the challenge itself, or the overcoming that makes the hero?
Is it the will that fuels them to stand apart from all the others despite no need to do so? Is it the causeless, ceaseless ambition within them to surpass all boundaries of expected behavior and vault themselves into new experiments in the sacred art of success?
Or could it be their origin — the story of how the ordinary became the exquisitely, uncommonly abnormal?
Continue reading “Sowing Seeds of Heroism”
Take a masterpiece, slice it into a hundred pieces, and spread it across the world.
Is it still a masterpiece?
These individual faces may be beautiful in their own right, but it would be impossible to see them and not realize that they are incomplete. No matter how enthralling one of these pieces may be, its fundamental truth will always be that it was made to be part of a whole.
No single piece of a puzzle is greater when removed from the others.
No single bolt of an engine can bring a car humming to life alone.
The piece must be held together with absolute integrity.
Integrity is the first dimension of a masterpiece.
Continue reading “Dimensions of a Masterpiece”
Tick tick tick
There must be a trick
To halting this horrid heart
Hands quaking forevermore
Beating iron I abhor
Floors on floors all up above
People safe and sleeping
This can’t be what they call love
My mind in sludge drowning
Continue reading “The Ticking Heart”
I’m lucky in life
With good fortune I’m rife
I’m lucky at work and lucky in love
Think of anything and I’m lucky thereof
And when something gets hard
That thing I’ll discard
Since I got lucky then
I could get lucky again
“I now call to session this meeting of the Me-cosystem. The agenda today is simple — we are picking a wife.”
“Finally,” said Mother, rolling her eyes. “It’s about time you settled down with a nice woman!”
Father leaned back in his chair and groaned. “Do I have to be here for this?”
“Of course!” shouted Sister, “This is the most important decision of his life. We all have to cast our votes.”
“Alright, alright,” I say, trying to restore order, “this should be pretty easy. We’ve got it down to three candidates, let’s take a look and just make our choice.”
Continue reading “The Marriage Council”
“What am I missing,” the young boy wondered to himself.
He was ten, lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling in the dim grey light. The soft sheets held him in a pocket of comforting warmth. His room was spacious and filled with toys. An intricate train set sprawled across the floor, built by his father just for him. His favorite part was a red dining car, which he took from the set and placed on his bedside table each night before going to sleep. It was heavy plastic and a battery-powered light on the inside illuminated silhouettes of diners and waiters. On its side, the words Dreams of Joy were written in flowing script.
The boy looked away from it again and back to the blank ceiling. The feeling of emptiness returned. The world seemed like such a confusing mess that he could barely wrap his head around it. What was he meant to do? How was he expected to be happy?
That was what everyone talked about — being happy. They told him the things he would need to do to be happy. He did his best to listen and do as they said. Some of them were even fun! But every night, as he lay in bed, he would still feel like this. As the distractions of the day melted away, and he was left alone with himself, he couldn’t escape the feeling that something was missing. He feared that if his life ended here, something would have gone undone.
Continue reading “Dreams of Joy”