The written word.

It seems to be something everyone has an opinion on, and rightfully they should.

We all have our favourite writers, or `’authors’ if you will.  We all own a million words placed between covers that we`ve absorbed that has resonated so deeply within us that it has awoken something we never knew existed.  

Inspiration rising from the ether.

Perhaps these words have released a pattern of thought that has waited decades to reach your fragile mind, and for that, you`ll always be grateful.

Perhaps a new novel has given you solace in a time you were not quite sure there was light on the other side, and for that, you`ll forever embrace the memory and the gift of hope.

Perhaps a chance meeting with a short story has given you some intangible insight, some hidden knowledge, that dared change the direction of your once certain mind.

It is these emotions that make every reader a viable and valuable critic.

Those that remain in their editorial ivory towers only carry so much significance.  Their value is in their ability to dissect the awful and grammatically handicapped authors from those that offer enough substance and depth in a legible format to their work to give any reader the opportunity to create their own moment. 

The author provides the words and the story, yet it`s still the reader that provides the magic.

A day as any other, I found myself in a Starbucks typing away on my laptop, trying to make my way through a to-do list that would rival a grocery list for Jon and Kate.

Since I tend to do my work in a number of different coffee houses, or as my friend calls them, “My Satellite Offices”, I’ve learned to block out the various conversations taking place around me. But at times, some nearby conversations break through the barrier.

The other day, sitting behind me were a group of people that in their various topics somehow landed on Scientology.

For those of you, like myself, not very interested in learning about yet another religion, here is some short copy on Scientology:

“Scientology, on a macro level, teach that people are immortal spiritual beings who have forgotten their true nature. Its method of spiritual rehabilitation is a type of counseling known as “auditing”, in which practitioners aim to consciously re-experience painful or traumatic events in their past, in order to free themselves of their limiting effects.” (Wikipedia)

So far, it sounds no different than a new age self-help book, but to understand their thoughts on the universe, try to stay with me.

 Here’s a brief excerpt:

“75 million years ago, there was an alien galactic ruler named Xenu who was in charge of 76 planets in our part of the galaxy, including our own planet Earth, whose name at that time was Teegeeack.

All of the planets Xenu controlled were over-populated by, on average, 178 billion people. Social problems dictated that Xenu rid his sector of the galaxy of this overpopulation problem, so he developed a plan. “  (http://www.skeptictank.org/gen3/gen01985.htm)

It just gets weirder from there.

So as you can see, Scientology quickly goes from interesting to Star Trek in about 4.5 seconds, and of course it’s the latter information that is always the conversation started.

So back to Starbucks…

So the people behind me started discussing Scientology with one another, making a number of jokes and jabs that I found hilarious.  They even saw me laughing and I had a chance to add a couple one-liners to the mix before going back to continue my battle with hotmail. It was all in good fun, god bless Starbucks.

But what came next surprised me, and provided me enough laughter for the rest of my day.

As the Scientology chat ended, I noticed their conversation shifted to their own lives. One girl gushed how about her niece’s upcoming baptism, and later another told of his trip to Rome and how he felt so blessed to be able to see the Pope while he was visiting Vatican City.

I found this juxtaposition of conversation absolutely hilarious. I almost looked around to see if I was on Punk’d.

I desperately wanted to turn around and ask them,

“So just to be clear, Scientologists are crazy and laughable because they think humans descended from aliens, but pouring water on a baby’s head so that a ghost will protect them is what? Sane? Practical maybe?

How about worshiping the words of a man in a big ridiculous hat that teaches Africans that condoms cause aids?

Allow me to take that one step further to remind everyone that catholics are the ones that believe their god created an enormous worldwide flood that murdered an entire civilization and Noah restarted the population with his ark and whomever he gathered on his ark. But don’t forget, god loves you.

These don’t cry out to me as the teachings and beliefs of a mentally stable organization.  

This aspect of religious people is probably the most interesting to me, the fact that they cannot see the parallels of absurdity between their own beliefs and that of other religions they seem to vilify so often.

If you consider yourself a Scientologist, a Catholic, a Mormon, a Jew etc., you absolutely must believe in things that don’t make any sense. In essence, that is faith. 

So, if your argument is that you simply believe and actively refuse to think about your own doctrine, that’s fine.   Believe it or not, I respect people who take that stance. At least it’s somewhat acknowledging they’ve never thought about it, and actively have no plans to do so.

But when you make fun of different religions, assign them as “crazy” but later walk into a building that shows a man being brutally tortured and then get in line to drink his blood and eat his body…   

Well, you’ve just promoted yourself to a whole new level of crazy.

Now I don’t consider myself a writer, more like a guy that likes to write, but this has given me enough insight to know what hurdles a lot of writers must overcome to finally come into their own.  My biggest creative struggle with the written word is self-censorship.

About a year ago I wrote an article about pregnant women (danger zone).  In the article, I meant to highlight the importance of nutrition and the proven harmful effects of not exercising and eating properly during pregnancy.  As you can imagine, this did not go over well.   I totally wrote this piece from a negative point of view and tried to stir some controversy with the title.  Long story short, I ended up writing the article very poorly and completely misrepresented myself, it is to date the biggest learning experience I’ve had regarding my writing.  To make matters worse this article was syndicated to a blogging network and of course I was lambasted, as I rightfully deserved.

From the stance I wrote from it sounded as if I was trying to say if a woman were to gain weight during pregnancy regardless of the situation I would consider it ugly, which was completely not what I meant at all. A few people could see through my verbal mess, but overall it was a blood bath.  One hundred comments and 47 grey hairs later I removed the article from my blog and asked the blogging site to do the same, it was a total disaster.  It was truly a moment where I had to sit back and evaluate, “What just happened here? Do I really think like that? What could I have done differently? Should I have done anything differently?”   I learned a lot about my writing and myself from that, so overall I’m grateful for the experience, but simultaneously wish it never happened.

After that ordeal, I’ve had a struggle with writing as openly, honestly, and as often as I used to.  I’ve developed a self-censor that is more thoughtful and methodical than before (which is good), however, now I’ve noticed added caution with some issues I would typically be itching to sound off on. These spark of inspiration now stay firmly on the back burner until they’ve disappeared into vapour.

As far as I am concerned, writers shouldn’t have a censor.  It’s those writers that are unapologetic that cause a shift of paradigm within their readers, not those that sit on the sidelines making a long list of the people they may offend.

This mentality is a departure from my everyday life as I try to keep the self-censorship to a minimum, because I think in society we have too many people who are overly delicate with what they say. I find conversations with these people boring, unintelligent, not genuine, and usually a huge waste of time. Nobody wants to rock the boat,  or have a disagreement for fear of a (gasp!) real conversation. I’ve been called opinionated, stubborn, and most other things from people that largely don’t have an opinion, conviction or any reasoning behind any of their views (note: I do agree with their assessment though).  I’ve noticed if I ever challenge one of their opinions that I find ridiculous, when they have no defence I am immediately labelled stubborn and opinionated. Go figure.

To give you an example, the type of person I just mentioned are typically those that have the “I don’t care” mentality whenever a group decision is announced, but they’re always the first to try to manipulate their way to success when the selection doesn’t go their way. Apparently they DO care, they’re just too scared say it.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am fully aware I can be a pain in the ass sometimes, and admittedly there are some things I should let go of but you can all blame my Social Psychology Professor for this.

Allow me to explain…

In my 2nd year of University life, I visited Professor Levine to discuss a paper I was writing for his class. In the midst of this discussion we somehow began to jab back and forth on the topic of conviction and personal identity. It was at that time in my life where I was often disagreeing with a number of people around me, constantly. However, being the mental analyst I was/am, after any such encounter I would replay the topic in my head to evaluate both sides of the discussion.  If I found I was mistaken I would find the person and retract my comments (if possible), if not, I’d just let it go. But with the frequency these events were taking place I thought it wise to ask this Professor to chime in on the topic.

I asked, “I find I’m always arguing with my buddies about things, and to be honest, I am just sick of it. I’m tired of defending myself and getting into these confrontations.   Is it better to continue these conversations or just go along to get along to keep the peace?”

He looked at me like the 20 year old ideologue that I was, realized this was actually a serious concern of mine and took a few moments to think through the question, and from what I recall, he said, “Well I guess that’s your choice Mike.  Is it worth it to you to go through the rest of your life sacrificing who you are and your opinions for anyone you’ll ever meet? Or is it more important for you to be an individual?  And remember, in the intelligent, opinions are always changing as you acquire more information. Today’s disagreements might be tomorrow’s epiphany.”

It was like lightning.  There was no thinking through this.  Just the thought of being one of those yes men that go through life agreeing with people to gain their favor and be everyone’s best friend was a future that scared me more than The Ghost of Christmas Future ever could.  Sure, I still pick my battles, but in my opinion, to sputter through life, going along to get along seems like a pretty boring existence.

I’ve learned the most from the people in my life that are an active part of the conversation, even if I couldn’t disagree with them more.  It’s these disagreements that give you a barometer of where you stand. You discover when you have gone too far, which audiences to engage and which to leave to their unshakeable bubbles.

I think it’s my lack of self-censorship that has taught me the most about life, love, and being verbally destroyed online.   Now its my goal to bring back my verbal vigour before the fear of the masses, the fear of conversation, paralyzes my written words any more.

But the key is not only in sharing our own opinions; it’s in having the wisdom to evaluate the opinions of others and knowing when to abandon our own.

Yes, it IS as difficult as it sounds, but usually most things worth doing aren’t easy.