In The Fray of Gold

It’s 8: 49 am and the gold of the day is already turning a bright white.

As I walk  through the Mystic Garden, I appreciate what is, and what’s to  come, although these shapes have not yet taken form.  These anxieties visited on most writers as fear, what business do they have in our lives?

Should I fear the inevitable, and what is inevitable anyway?  Most would answer, “Death and taxes.” I would argue that one should come before the other, “taxes and death”, but it’s apparent that taxes out live death.  Warn the family.

Today I have decided to relinquish fear.  For one, I’m already writing.  I know this because I can see the words in front of me. Always good news.

Secondly, there’s a nagging at the base of  my skull.  I suspect the thought of impending bills might do that.  Yet both these things are good.  If I’m not writing, I’m not alive.  If I’m not paying bills, I’m not alive.  Conundrum you say?

Exactly!  Life is like that.  Expect the unexpected, and timber that holding thought with faith in the best outcome. These are by no means dark thoughts, but a mere appreciation of the calm as well as the storm.  As I prepare to “observe my mind and find the Buddha within it”, I remember one of my favorite movies to date — Bladerunner. It’s not fun and upbeat by any means, but it asks the question (also the title of the book from which it’s made) Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Which brings me to the idea of memories.  No matter what the event, we have a choice as to how we view and respond to incidents in the phenomenal world.  The touch and fragrance of these memories  remain with us and color our existence.  It does matter where they go after we go.  It does matter what we do and record before we go.  Words have the power to move, to encourage, to embolden, to soothe, to inspire.  Who are we to question either the calm or the storm, when both are gifts from the gods?

Today, for example, as the screenplay I’m writing with my partner advances so do the daily rain of anxieties, sometimes  falling softly. I remember that they are necessary agents that power my writing gold,  just as they power my life gold.

A few quotes from Philip K. Dick, author of  Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?:

“The true measure of a man is not his intelligence or how high he rises in this freak establishment. No, the true measure of a man is this: how quickly can he respond to the needs of others and how much of himself he can give.”
and …

“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.”

“My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.”
as well as…

“Because today we live in a society in which spurious realities are manufactured by the media, by governments, by big corporations, by religious groups, political groups…So I ask, in my writing, What is real? Because unceasingly we are bombarded with pseudo-realities manufactured by very sophisticated people using very sophisticated electronic mechanisms. I do not distrust their motives; I distrust their power. They have a lot of it. And it is an astonishing power: that of creating whole universes, universes of the mind. I ought to know. I do the same thing.”

You can hear Dick vacillating between wisdom and anxiety.  I imagine the appropriate time to go insane, as Dick’s quote suggests, is on the page. As a writer, I owe it to myself to authentically delve into the heart of first, myself and then society, on behalf of ordinary heroes we call the people.  In order to do this, I embrace all that is with solid vow in heart. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? I don’t know. But I do feel this: what we record lives, breathes and touches well after we are gone.  I feel immense gratitude for the ability to serve both ‘God‘  and mankind with a connecting touch — a breath of shared, recognized truth, recorded.

If the continuance of mankind is dependent on survival of the fittest, our ultimate goal in life seems to be working out — spiritually, that is .  To work out one needs weights.  These little challenges that so sideline us should have us jumping for joy.  They are our opportunity for a great inner workout, knocking at our door.

I keep in mind that what’s at the heart of the common man and the corporate bully is sometimes the same.  Getting others to see and feel this is a magic trick, a feat made possible by capturing and casting the golden net as we walk through the Mystic Garden ourselves.

Go boldly, and as per the meme of a certain, wonderful Sci-Fi character,
“Make it so!”

Photos: Rarindra Prakarsa
Additional credit to my partner in screenwriting mayhem, Steven Danner, for the lyrics to a rare Bob Dylan song which inspired this:


About Diz

I was told that I was born with a pen in my hand. My mother was not amused. She still isn't. Five of six of us kids are in the Entertainment Biz -- five of us are closet-Leos. Or are we? Website:
This entry was posted in anxiety, Art, Buddha, Collaborating, Mystic Garden, Screen Writing, Writing Mayhem and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to In The Fray of Gold

  1. Steven says:

    Well written prose. Almost a light appearing from a dark tunnel.

  2. wordplaydiz says:

    Thank you very much. There’s always a light.

  3. Daniel K says:

    “There is a light that never goes out” – Morrissey

    This is hardly a mini-blog. This, my friend, is a blog.

  4. beeseeker says:

    Vacilating between wisdom and anxiety – this is becoming the human condition perhaps?
    Provocatively well-written, with some astounding quotes and photos: much apprciated.

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