Belief is a Powerful Thing

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There is nearly nothing that can stop a group of people with a singular focus. Belief is a powerful thing. And not even just when it comes to religion. There are many causes that are full of people that believe in the utility of a goal or action. They rally around an idea and live and work in such a away that their purposes are advanced. But it is belief that fuels them with times get tough. It is belief that motivates them to get up in the morning. A goal gives purpose, but belief gives life. A person that has no beliefs merely wanders through existence, meandering from experience to experience. But in order for a situation to change you, there needs to be something for it to change. A set of views to be altered. What amazes me is that an idea gains power simply because people back it with belief. The dark is frightening because of the belief that people have in the monsters that it hides. Monsters are only as fearsome as the thought that is given to them. Belief is a powerful thing. Issues work in a contrary manner, however. The first step in fixing a problem is making people aware that it is in fact a problem. In this way, disbelief is a powerful thing. The easiest way to hide something is to convince people that it is not real. That is does not exist. The less people know, the more easily and unopposed an issue is allowed to proceed. Disbelief is a powerful thing.

Trouble in Paradise

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Utopia? What is it? Another “perfect” society filled with people and empty of strife? What makes this paradise any different than dystopia? I have come to realize that the difference is solely in the name. There is no difference besides a few trivial letters. The thing about these societies is that they are a dream. As simple and singular as that. But I have found that they are more nightmarish than beautiful. Dreams motivate people to obtain them; they whisper our names from just out of reach. But when a desire for a number of people, no matter how small, is not shared, there is such danger. Dreams make people go further than they think that they can go and do more than they think possible. When such a thing is appealing to an individual in a group, they trample the others to achieve success. There is no true life without choice. To end war and famine, where do you stop? If you must kill and starve people for “the greater good,” will you? The problem with utopia is that it is absolute. Very little in this life is good in a complete and overwhelming amount. In order to gain harmony, conflict must end. And in order to end conflict, opinions must be destroyed. And to destroy opinions, emotions must be abolished. In the end, you must ask yourself, “What have I accomplished?” “Is this what I really want?” These are empty dreams. After all, what makes life life? Memories, thoughts, feelings. The Good and the Bad. Life does not simply consist of what is easy. It is full. Full of the crazy and irrational. Full of love and feeling. Full of everything high, low, light, dark, right, wrong, welcoming, hostile, difficult, facile. Life is total. It is said that we are the sum of our experiences. The bitter makes the sweet so much sweeter.

Patchwork Heart

I think our hearts are really not formed of muscle at all. We have been lied to our whole lives because no one wants to admit how the beating mess in our chest actually works. But if you slipped under my skin and crawled through my ribcage you would find something that looks more like a quilt than an organ. My heart is really made up of hundreds of scraps and pieces, sewn together with dreams. In some places it leaks tears where the stiches are torn, but that is natural; every heart has its more than fair share of scrapes and bruises. You may think that your life-pumping mess is simply your own, but the truth is that it is hardly yours. By almost twenty years of living, you almost certainly have only a scrap left. “Where did my heart go?” you may be wondering, “I was sure it was here the last time I looked.” Did you not feel the tearing as you brushed up against her heart? It rips every time you come in contact with a person you let close enough to touch your heart. My heart is not my own, but it is composed of the fabric of all my loved ones’ hearts. Every friend, family member, significant other, person you felt for on TV, crush, acquaintance. Every . . . Single . . . Love. That is why love hurts so much; it steals your heart and leaves it with those you have loved. A piece of you goes with them. But is it not worth Loving anyways? A quilt of many beautiful fabrics is much more beautiful that a blanket of a single cloth.

Fragile Interuptions

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Have you ever lay in a carpet of grass and stared deep into a clear blue sky? A sky so empty of anything that you can see straight into the void of azure space? But when you pull in your focus and stop peering so far, tiny, elusive squiggles come into view before racing away. Fragile interruptions in our peripherals; minute distortions in our vision. As people in the world, we each have our own mounts or stances that we choose to hold – often these are high horses – but what we fail to realize is that each of our views are fractured by our own eyes. We look out from our bodies, but we only see what our eyes allow us to. We share views with those who have similar eyes as us; we blink at those who do not. Imperfections live in our very eyes! Some eyes may be clearer than others, but none of us imperfect beings are able to decipher which eyes those may be. After all, a speck may be as large as a log and we would never know. How can we point fingers and turn up noses when our eyes do not clearly see? Instead of judging those with a different view, look again at the defects in your own eyes. Imperfections and flaws lurk between you and what you see.