Failing In Life:

Do you think it's possible to fail in life? Consider something simpler like Second Life. How could you fail there? It's not possible because it's not a game. It's merely for entertainment. So how could you fail in real life? It's not a game either. Nobody even knows what it's for. Nonetheless, I have this nagging feeling that I'm failing.

Some people have considered the question from the opposite direction. In particular, there was an essay published long ago defining success:

To laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children; to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one’s self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived—this is to have succeeded

The author sets a pretty low bar, so maybe I'm not failing as badly as I thought. The foregoing essay is often attributed to Ralph Wald Emerson, but the original author was Bessie A. Stanley. It was called What is Success and published in a compilation entitled Heart Throbs.

Heart throbs were defined by the publisher as those things that make us all kin; those things that endure—the classics of our own lives.

I've spent most of my life looking for heart throbs. I hope you've found a few.

Dedication:

To those who can't sleep

and sometimes cry at night.

To those feeling smaller than life.

To the trapped and

hating where they're at.

For those wishing they've breathed their last.

To those at dead ends

and in holes so deep,

they don't even bother to weep.

To those wanting heroes

and needing hope.

To those for whom the word hope is a cliched joke.

To everyone who has ever sold

their time and health for minimum wages.

To those living through dark ages.

To the defiant

To those screaming at the sky.

To those asking why.

I'm so sorry.

I wish I knew.

Because my words are for you.

Too Depressed:

I was going to post something, but I got too depressed. Depression isn't bad for writing, but you need to be in deep despair to the point where you lose your inhibitions and write material that is shocking. If I'm lucky, maybe something bad will happen to me tomorrow that will send me over the edge. OK, keeping my fingers crossed.

The Beauty of the Realm:

I've been enjoying gathering crystals at Linden Realms. It's deeply relaxing and somewhat financially rewarding.

One of the fringe benefits is the beautiful scenery. To see it, you have to use the region windlight settings. If you enable particles, there are even weather effects and the regions are low-lag. Below are a couple of photos, one from near sea level, the other from one of the tallest mountain peaks.

My Superpower:

Friends sometime call me Randall the Candle. To me that sounds like a kind of superhero. So I asked them what my superpower would be. They said it would probably be breaking stuff. I don't think that's fair. It's not that I break things a lot, it's that they buy cheap stuff that easily breaks.

Breaking things is not a super power. That's just being clumsy. I think my super power should be generating light, about as much as a candle. Maybe I could cup my hands together to form a dark void between my palms. And if you look into the dark void, you could see light radiating from my palms. It would be great for party tricks.

My favorite superpower would be to have the powers of a prophet. It would give me the ability to persuade with deep conviction. I would have many devoted followers and be able to perform minor miracles. If someone was disabled, I would be able to call upon my abilities and heal them, but not with great reliability. Sometimes it wouldn't work and I would blame the failures on lack of faith.

The worst part about being a prophet would be passing the collection plate around. I hate asking for money. So I would probably be a poor prophet.

Do You Believe:

He believed in something he called the true world. A world behind this one, that shone through it, like a candle through a lampshade.
-Janet Fitch, Paint It Black

Do you believe in the true world? An idealized version of this one that we catch glimpses of sometimes? I accidentally rediscovered the true world.

I had started going for walks at lunch. Usually I eat at my desk first and then hike past the restaurant that I can't afford to eat at. It's not for torture, it's for exercise. On a whim last week, I walked in the opposite direction and discovered a small, well kept nature park. I did a circuit through the park and found a path leading under a bridge. After the bridge, the path opened up on a sandy trail paralleling a stream.

It was another world hidden away in an industrial park. Large trees shaded the trail, dappling it with sunlight. The path led to a picnic table in a grove of trees. One of the trees had small oranges hanging from its branches. Further up the trail, a foot bridge gracefully arched over the steam. The scene was from another era, from before when they paved this area over with asphalt and concrete.

As beautiful as it was, I was thinking. Is it more important to see the true world or your true self? An idealized version of you that you have in your mind? The person that you could be with just a little help (or maybe a lot).

Do you still believe in that person?

Would You Rather: