April Fools' Eve

Q: If the winds of March build April showers, and April showers bring May flowers, then what do May flowers bring?

A: Pilgrims.

I grow tired of the characters for my next book that I have developed in this blog and wonder what I can do with them. From another writer, who also uses a blog to develop characters, I learned to leave this blog alone and start a new one with a different set of characters. Therefore, as of today, this blog will cease to exist as a means for plot and character development. Tomorrow, I will start a blog in another part of the virtual universe and let new characters make themselves believable.

A few more thoughts from the unnamed character who descended from a brave fighter in the American Revolutionary War... [I had planned to give him a Scottish name but never found a good one, except reusing Bruce or using Robert (an ode to many famous Scots with those names, of course)]

I ponder the difference between genius and madness. I have seen how the thought process works. I have met people whose brains are not helping their bodies participate on any normal scale in society. I have seen dysfunctional people succeed in business. I have seen normal people fail in social gatherings.

The question is not about looking at a two-sided coin. Genius and madness are just conditions, labels. We know that genetics plays a role in genius and if the parental units see the strong synaptic connections in their child at the earliest age, then coaxing the genius to fill the brain with more than pure randomness will point the genius to a path of social usefulness. Otherwise, the geniuses I have met who knew their capabilities but had no incentive or motivation to get a grip on their insanity would fill a large swimming pool in some generic suburban backyard. Intelligence is not the issue here. It's how a society values intelligence that I seek.

I have spent my life seeking genius and found it everywhere. Walking the halls of Sullivan Central High School in Blountville. Flipping burgers at McLendy's in Kingsport. Making pizza at Chicago Dough Company in Richton Park. Researching charcoal production on Montserrat. Designing first-rate software for a military aircraft test machine at GE in Huntsville. Installing sewer flow monitors for ADS Environmental Services in Erie. Cracking open lobsters in Portsmouth. Drinking beer in a pub in Ennis. Founding a tech startup in north Alabama.

I used to think there were differences between genius and madness. Now I know there is not one single difference. The whole world is insane, full of arbitrary conflicts, misinformed leaders urging followers over an obvious cliff, and for the most part, out of sync with reality.

What is a genius? A person who sees the world clearly and knows what to do with his/her place in it. No games. No rules. No fantasies. No wordplay. A person who carries a long conversation in her/his thoughts over that person's lifetime and thereby solves problems, whether for the sake of society or simply for that person's life. Insanity, as we know, is repeating something over and over and expecting different results.

I am not a genius. I live in this insane world with the rest of the uninformed, ignorant human population. I can solve no problems for myself or society. I can only pose questions and sometimes answer them.

I hear a squirrel sharpening its teeth on the wooden eaves again. The sound it makes mimics the human-operated Bobcat across the street, where someone is trying to smash up solid rock with a jackhammer. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Where is the genius in that? If I meditated on those rhythms long enough, I'm sure I'd find out.

Yesterday, while driving down the freeway, I thought about the broomstraw gal, a former coworker/friend of mine who I lost through my misunderstanding that she was a genius. She was often alone but not lonely, one of the signs of clarity in a genius. I wanted to know more about her thoughts but expressed my thoughts poorly in that regard - I don't think she liked being called a Muse. Even so, she hung out with people more famous than me, inspiring them to greater things, I'm sure. Long ago, she became a character in my stories and poems. I never figured out if she was/is a genius. I guess I'll never know. That does not stop me from wishing it so, wondering if genius can inspire those less-gifted to achieve genius-like levels of insight and creation.

I'll end this blog entry with a poem of mine published in Arete, the University of Alabama-Huntsville (UAH) literary magazine, in 2001:

= == === ==== === == =

And so it came to pass

And so it came to pass,
The time that had been spent with the One in silence.
Neither wind nor sun,
Seed nor house,
Could break the path that One had chosen
To teach the truth of life.
Some marveled at the silence
And chose wordless meditation.
Some saw that words had meaning
And gave power to the Word.
Some rejected all truths,
Seen and unseen,
And chose to veer off-course.
I chose to build a shelter of thoughts
That empowered me and ruled me at the same time
For time and place lost in the reality of mine/mind.
I rose in the morning like a wind
Passing through a forest,
Breaking limbs and pulling off leaves,
Seeming to cause death to peacefulness
But perpetuating life instead.
I woke in despair and disappointment
That another day of pain awaited me
Not knowing that pain does not exist,
Only life.
I stepped out of bed to turn off the alarm clock
Only to realize that the music was in the remnants
Of a dream and I was truly standing in a bar
Throwing popcorn at a woman
Who stared at me through space and time
With a look of unsatisfied control in her eyes.
I turned off the alarm clock and saw
I was running late and would once again
Arrive at my workplace in a state of fear and agitation.
I prepared myself through the cleansing routine
For presentation to those I chose
To spend the majority of my working hours with.
Preparation or not,
I knew the primary responses from those
Who would meet my existence that day.
And so it came to pass...
Time became a valid comparison
For all of us when we took time to notice.
Reproduction became a secondary function
To meeting meeting schedules.
Empathy became a state production
Complete with a dozen roses, dinner and a nice movie.
Heartbeats threatened our very existence
When we became aware
Of their Hitchcockian foreboding of mystery and death.
Another day of work passed
From morning to lunch to afternoon
And I faced the prospect of dinner,
Then evening and sleep once again.
Only this time I let alcohol numb the pain of monotony...
Before I gave in to my shelter of dreams,
Dreams where I can exist with any you I choose.

- 4 December 1992

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What is genius? It's knowing that the freedom to think is the only thing that matters. All else is pretending that you spend every living moment in April Fools' Day. If you're not a genius, you're somebody's fool. And the choice is not necessarily yours to make. Have a great day, tomorrow!