My good friend,
Robby, takes immense joy in the holidays, but has a particular affinity for
Halloween. Astoundingly, he is able to
ghoulishly transform his small apartment into an experience any haunted house would
envy.
His bedroom is a
scene from Poltergeist, complete with
a little girl standing and staring into a snowy television. His nook becomes a field of cornstalks accompanied
by a soundtrack of ominous crickets to keep the baleful scarecrow company. Guarding the bathroom door is a hulking
6-and-a-half-foot demon in a black cape and mask that looks like it may pounce
any minute. He is unparalleled when it
comes to creating an entire Halloween experience.
One night he
invited a few of us over for a scary movie.
When each of us arrived we were greeted with a cracked door and an empty
apartment. The intent was clear. Wander around until you have found everything
that can pop out and scare you: amputated limbs, satanic handwritten notes
surrounding a broken mirror and bloody bathtub, and yes--a person hiding
beneath a black cloak. He is a master
trickster.
Other than our
friend, Amy, who said she would stop by later, everyone had arrived and
sufficiently toured the sinister ambiance in the apartment. We were all impressed. Having given him adequate accolades for his
efforts, we sat down to watch the movie.
Just as the
noxious opening scene ended, Robby received a message on his phone. “My friend, Sarah, just sent me a link to
this website. ‘OMG! This is SO COOL!! You have to try it!’ she says.” He looked around. “Has anybody ever heard of it?”
Everyone was
clueless. I’d heard the name before, but
didn’t know anything about it.
The film was put
on pause while Robby opened his laptop and typed in the address. The rest of us gathered round. It took him to a page completely blank other
than a small box in the middle of the screen.
In the center of the box was a line for typing questions. There was no additional information other
than the site was an online tarot source.
This box was capable of exposing you to other realms.
We thought it
was silly. What could some random box a
million cyber miles away know? Still, we
fed the curiosity.
“When will Amy
get here?” Robby typed; something simple and safe, yet specific enough to avoid
any generic response.
An immediate
response generated. “I don’t know, Robby.”
He sat stunned. “How does it know my name??”
We sat in
breathless silence, gazing from eye to eye for an answer.
“It’s your
computer?” Harley offered.
Robby admitted
he’d been logged into Facebook earlier.
“Maybe it accessed my Facebook account or something.” He plopped the laptop on Kate’s lap. “You try it and see if it says the same
thing.”
Kate haltingly
took her turn. “When will Amy get here?”
she typed.
Again, the
response was instantaneous. “Kate, give
the computer back to Robby.” Her arms
twitched. Kate shoved the computer off
her lap. “Ok, that is some freaky stuff!!”
The mood in the
room instantly intensified. “You guys, I
absolutely believe in stuff like this!” Robby confessed. “I am really freaked out right now!!”
"How can it
see us?” Grant pressed. “Is there a camera in here?" His eyes were scanning the room.
"Maybe
through the TV?" Harley tried.
"Don't be
silly.” I intercepted. “They can't
install secret cameras in everybody's house on the chance they will one day
visit this site."
"It's only
mentioned Kate and Robby by name so far,” Anna pointed out. “They’ve both had the computer on their
lap. Maybe it's seeing them through the computer."
Robby pulled the
computer in closer to block any periphery it may have. “Can you see us?”
he typed.
“Yes,” flashed
up on the screen.
“From where?”
Robby probed.
“The
cornstalks.” Chills were passed around
the room as we glanced toward the faceless and wicked looking scarecrow hanging
amid cornstalks in Robby’s alcove.
Robby tested
it. "How many of us are here?" Enter.
I implored it to
be wrong; to make one tiny mistake and show its hand; to give me the tiniest
hint it was somehow guessing or pulling information about us online, anything
to logically explain how this was happening.
"Six." The answer came like a shot. Bullseye.
The level of
panic rose. "Ask it
something no one would know! Something non visual!" Harley was
near hysterics. "Remember the conversation we had a couple weeks
ago? Ask it what the conversation was about. I've never told anyone
that story. There's no way it could possibly know!"
"You're
right,” Robby agreed. “Good idea!
We didn't even have that conversation in this apartment!"
Robby paused for a moment to let a slight bit of relief creep in.
"What important conversation did Harley and I have two weeks
ago?" he typed.
No sooner had
Robby hit enter than "His dad leaving the family." was there on the
screen.
Robby
practically threw the computer aside. “HOW DOES IT KNOW ALL THIS
STUFF??” He was up on his feet, frantically
pacing back and forth.
There was a
menacing and ominous energy in the room and it was palpable to everyone.
Something from the dark side was tampering with us. For the first
time ever, I felt like I entered a horror movie. Like somewhere an audience
was watching us, shaking their heads at our fate. Six single coeds in a
dark, sinister room who unknowingly unlocked the door to their doom. I
knew this moment. I'd seen it in films. This was the moment the
tremulous music built. The moment the
action hit. The moment that makes the
audience jump.
"Shut it
down," I said.
Robby whipped
his head around. "I don't want to
shut it down, I want it to go away!" he exclaimed. "Shut it
down and I'll have some demon stuck in my apartment all night! How do I
get it to go away?!!"
Gingerly, Kate
picked the computer up. "If we shut down the computer, what will
happen?" she typed.
"I'll still
be here."
"That's
enough!” I commanded. “Shut it down!"
Robby was
serious. Frantic. He ripped the computer from Kate’s lap. "Where are you now?"
"Above
Niko's head."
All eyes in the
room shot to the air above me. The blood in my head took the nearest
exit. Blood plummeted down my spine as though the floor of a water tower
had unlatched.
The room was
motionless.
"Put it
away, Kate." I slid beside her and closed the laptop.
"But… Maybe it’s good.” She tried
interjecting. “I just want to ask if it means
any harm.”
"No more.”
I directed. We had trifled where we
ought not long enough. “We're all going to leave it alone and
go home."
"You're
leaving?!?" Robby raved. "Great! Everyone is going
to leave and I'll be stuck here alone with a demon!!" He paused, shifted
tones, then added, "And Niko will go home never knowing this was all a big
joke on him..."
I glared at him
incredulously.
It was a joke. A rouse. Hijinks. They demonstrated how there is
a tricky way to type in your question while simultaneously
getting the computer to regurgitate whatever answer you want it to give.
They had been telling the computer what to respond. The rest of the prank is creating a
believable, dynamic group environment with trembling hands and panicked voices.
It wasn't real.
They tricked me. I was a pawn in an elaborate scheme of actors.
There should have been hidden cameras somewhere.
Even after
finding out it was fraudulent, tremors of terror stayed with me for days.
That's how real it had been to me. From the start the whole thing
had been set up, and yet the heart-pounding fright I felt was tangible.
Powerful. It was real to me. At the time, my head, my heart,
my soul, everything was testifying the truthfulness of an ominous presence in
the room. I am not an easily swayed person and I feared. I feared
with undisputed honesty for the well-being of myself and everyone in the room.
In reality, it
was a hoax. Yet, the whole experience was so genuine my body manifested
it through presence of mind, stomach churning, hair raising, and blood rushing.
This wasn't pretend. It may have been the greatest acting moment of
their lives, but not mine. I believed with surety. And I was wrong.
Isn't it amazing
what words on a screen (or page) can do?
Isn't the impact
of group behavior remarkable?
Isn't it
alarming how easily feelings can be created?
Isn't it
interesting how easily naivety will believe what it's told/taught
unquestioningly?
Had they not
come clean and confessed the ruse, I would have gone on believing it forever.
My testimony of what occurred that evening.
It is for this
reason I learned it is unreliable even to trust myself. Yes, the others
put on a good show. But, the part that really made it convincing was the
fear and uneasiness I felt...I, ME, MY feelings, originating from
within me. The others didn't inject me with false feelings. I
created them. It was me deceiving myself based on the surrounding
stimuli.
When you can't
trust the world, and you can't trust yourself, who can you trust? I
can hear the answer of an entire upbringing and the greater part of a
nation ringing in my ears: God. But, God is a construct taught
to us by an untrustworthy world. We
believe in him because we are taught to, we believe in him because environments
are powerful and our environment believes in him, but at it's most profound and
solidified point, we believe in him because His truthfulness is manifested to
us through our own feelings of surety. The same irrefutable
feelings of surety I felt at the party. The feelings that resulted
as part of a ploy.
I imagine people
wanting to curl in a ball and cry at this point. When you realize
your belief system--the force that has shaped your entire life--has been
built by following your feelings, yet even your own feelings are susceptible
to deceiving you, i.e., not always intuitive, educated, or honest...it's
a scary place to be.
It is not
your fault. You are asking yourself to do something beyond your
capacity.
Humans come
equipped with survival skills. Therefore, they are made to face this
world, not the next. We are built to assess a situation--here and
now. To take every situation we encounter and determine help or
hinder, secure or escape, live or die, i.e., we are made to live in the
present, constantly processing information in terms of what is going to help us
live another breath. It is the predetermined way we survive to be
the fittest. We are not equipped with discernment, clairvoyance, and
precognition, i.e., we are not meant to know the future, therefore, not
equipped to make postmortem decisions affecting the eon of eternity.
History is
actually demonstrative. History is destined to repeat itself. We
know this. Which means, in a way, we actually DO know the future.
We know what is going to happen because it has redundantly happened
before. So, why don't we break the repeat cycle? Because humans,
following their natural tendencies, are instinctively born to be
survivors. That means their focus is on what's in front of them and the
bigger picture must take a backseat, e.g., getting food on the table for
my family is greater than/more important than the national budget, debt, and
ultimately state of our nation. Food keeps me alive, the rest is
somebody else's problem.
Disciples would
argue our lack of ability to see the bigger picture is necessary for faith.
Knowing the future would alter our course and eliminate learning, growth,
choice, and the test of loyalty (which is what religion is seeking). The
problem is ALL religions assert their authenticity. Aside from picking
one at random to blindly follow, how are we to know which is correct?
As previously proven, we are capable of believing any one of
them with absolute surety given the right stimuli. Are we to place
our faith on a dart and throw?
Perhaps it is
advantageous, then, not to search for unearthly truth
(which is impossible), but instead to search out what is most
beneficial. I find love, knowledge, and selflessness beneficial. I
do not find fear, shame, and coercion beneficial.
I believe in the
potential truth. I believe all ideas have likelihood to be truthful.
Believing in the potential truth eliminates doubt. There is no
reason to worry it might not be true because I already believe
it might not be true. It also eliminates any disappointment or
feelings of betrayal should a philosophy be proven false. I can't
be disappointed or betrayed when I knew there was a possibility this might
happen all along. It's an interesting paradox: people pay their
beliefs to religion in exchange for peace, security, and
comfort, when all along the greatest security lies in maintaining doubt.
Maintaining
doubt does not mean I live in doubt, or anything nearly so pessimistic.
Quite the opposite, actually. I more-than-less live in belief!
I'm a great collector of ideas. I
love a plethora of postulations. I’m
interested in pallets of varying hues versus buckets of black
and white. I extract what I find beneficial from each philosophy like a
bee. A bee who collects only the pollen
from each flower he visits. This allows me to build my own personal hive
of convictions.
Allowing ideas
to percolate with an open mind is easy when one has the tranquility to
admit his own ideas might be wrong no matter how much he believes he is
right. Sift through ideas letting the nonsense and the non-applicable slip
through the sieve while keeping the beneficial nuggets. Becoming
your own benefactor will lead to an overall greater sense of happiness, and
happiness is a great compass for decision making.
I know, I know…
I just finished prosecuting the trustworthiness of one's own
feelings. Now we're supposed to trust ourselves to know what makes us
happy??
On eternal
matters, trusting one's own feelings is particularly faulty (as we are not made
to handle such matters). But, in the present--assessing moment to moment,
as is our naturally selected capability--what better guide do we have?
Our feelings are the best resource available. When we follow a
predetermined course it is easy to end up far from our destination. It is
only through a constant, ever-present pattern of checking in for
reevaluation we ensure we are on our path to happiness.
In
1979 a large passenger jet with 257 people on board left New Zealand for a
sightseeing flight to Antarctica and back. Unknown to the pilots, however, someone had
modified the flight coordinates by a mere two degrees. This error placed the aircraft 28 miles (45
km) to the east of where the pilots assumed they were. As they approached Antarctica, the pilots
descended to a lower altitude to give the passengers a better look at the
landscape. Although both were
experienced pilots, neither had made this particular flight before, and they
had no way of knowing that the incorrect coordinates had placed them directly
in the path of Mount Erebus, an active volcano that rises from the frozen
landscape to a height of more than 12,000 feet (3,700 m).
As
the pilots flew onward, the white of the snow and ice covering the volcano
blended with the white of the clouds above, making it appear as though they
were flying over flat ground. By the
time the instruments sounded the warning that the ground was rising fast toward
them, it was too late. The airplane
crashed into the side of the volcano, killing everyone on board.
It
was a terrible tragedy brought on by a minor error—a matter of only a few
degrees.
Suppose
you were to take off from an airport at the equator, intending to
circumnavigate the globe, but your course was off by just one degree. By the time you returned to the same
longitude, how far off course would you be? A few miles? A hundred miles? The answer might surprise
you. An error of only one degree would
put you almost 500 miles (800 km) off course, or one hour of flight for a jet.
No
one wants his life to end in tragedy. But
all too often, like the pilots and passengers of the sightseeing flight, we set
out on what we hope will be an exciting journey only to realize too late that
an error of a few degrees has set us on a course for spiritual disaster.
--Dieter F. Uchtdorf
A Matter of a Few Degrees
Ironically, I
lifted (or usurped, depending on how adverse you are to this post) this passage
from a talk given at a conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day
Saints (Mormons). Its intent at the conference was to inspire
strict allegiance to the gospel principles of the LDS church. It imparts
a policy of refraining from ever questioning, ever pondering, and
ever experimenting with anything that may derail one from the
path the church has set forth [through divine revelation from God] as
Righteousness. Interestingly, I believe this story provides the
opposite lesson!
The tragedy of
this example is not that the plane veered off course. Believe it or not,
the tragedy is that the plane held to the course unwaveringly! Incorrect
coordinates are a tiny mistake; easily identifiable and easily remedied to any
pilot taking stock of his flight path. New Zealand to Antarctica is a
long flight. How many minutes went by, and how many opportunities did the
pilots have to reevaluate, assess the situation, and reorient the plane?
Had the pilots been checking in every minute, every 10 minutes, every
hour; had they taken a couple detours or made a few stops along the way to
confirm they were plotting the right course, the incident would never have
happened. The tragedy is not that a mistake was made, but that the
mistake was never corrected.
Mind you, not
all mistakes are regrettable! It is only in hindsight the true nature of
mistakes is revealed. Not all mistakes need correction, and not all
deviations are mistakes. Most of the world was discovered by
happenstance. So, too, is character. Mistakes are not the enemy,
they are the teacher; a guide; a catalyst to compare against the status quo.
They should be cherished for the constructive self-evaluation they
incite. Failure to question and consider is where the pilots went wrong.
How can anyone
know who they are, or what they believe, unless they know who they are not and
what they disbelieve?
Imagine you
begin as a waffle cone. This cone represents you: your personality, your
being, your beliefs, your choices, your paths… And, the inalienable right
of life is that you get to fill it with whatever flavor(s) you desire.
From the
beginning, many will tell you you can't go wrong with vanilla. Pure
vanilla is the key to happiness. Vanilla is nice--and certainly the most
popular flavor--but if all you ever have is vanilla, how will you ever know
there is not a better flavor? The whole point in having a cone is finding
your unique combination of flavors.
You dip your
spoon in mocha almond fudge. Too bitter for your taste. Moving on.
Strawberry cheesecake? A bit too tart. Cookies and cream?
That hits the spot! Cookies and cream goes in your cone.
And, so it goes;
sampling; careful that only flavors with the most benefit are added to your
cone. Some flavors are easily added--it's a no brainer that butter pecan
is good. Others are easily discarded--your tongue knows when it never
wants to taste lime sherbet again. Still, others are an acquired
taste--you may doubt mint chocolate chip at first, but down the line you'll
wonder how you ever lived without it.
Fear of a flavor
is unnecessary. If you don't like it you move on to the next and leave
the unsavory behind. Simple as that. Occasionally, tastes change.
A flavor you once enjoyed may now turn your stomach. This sometimes
happens. No problem! Scoop the venom back out! Will it come
out cleanly? Not likely. Depending on how long it's been in the
cone, it will probably have melded to other portions. It may take time
and meticulous care, but it is worth the effort to keep your cone tasting the
way you want it, free from any undesirable muddling.
Life is not a
yellow brick road to be tip-toed along because a being in a bubble said it was
the only correct path. Life is a hike. It winds. Sometimes
uphill. And sometimes an easy slalom downhill. Sometimes
a taxing swim cross a wide river. And sometimes a meadowy roll down
a knoll. It is to be seen, smelled, felt, heard, tasted, pondered,
questioned, tried, and experimented so that you may decide for yourself what
you like, what makes you happy, and what doesn't.
Life belongs to
the vulnerable: those brave enough to take a chance because they know a
side-step can be just as easily aligned as it can be enlightening, and those
valorous enough to know the only valid place to place trust--scarily enough--is
in the moment. Every moment. For moments are all we have. All
we know. Nothing more. Each moment is a paradox: both new and continuous.
That means each moment presents us with an opportunity; a lifeline; a chance to
change; to correct; to take an alternate course; to climb on the back of a new
moment and see where it takes us, all while simultaneously presenting us with
the comfort and security of standing on that which will always be there: the
continuous. All paradoxes are unique and special. What a gift these
paradoxes are. These moments.
One inevitable
truth of this life is no gift may ever remain with its owner. Heirlooms must
be passed on, as must our flesh and bones. To whom shall you give yours?
Whom do you trust to receive your moments? Posterity? The
air? The new? The continuous?
I am not
trustworthy. I know that. No one is. The best I can do is
trust the moment. But, in this moment, I trust who I am. I trust
myself.
