Power of the Written Word

Hello,

I am Sam.

Sam I am.

Popular words from one of the best authors in the world. Dr. Seuss has a place in history and in my families life. He isn't the only author I still read, Charles Dickens, J.R.R. Tolkein, Raymond E. Feist, David Eddings, L. Ron Hubbard, Vince Flynn, and lately Stephanie Meyer. Authors are the artists who paint pictures with word, alight the imagination, take us on adventures, and give us a glimpse of what may be and what possibilities exist.

My history with the written word dates to a wet day in Laxfield, England and a impending test in English history. I did what every other red blooded American boy in a strange country does, I panicked, played sick, and stayed home. I got bored quickly, picked up a Hardy Boys mystery, and proceeded to read every novel in my age group in the house. My mom didn't let me play hooky the next day, so I braved the school climate and raided the school library. I haven't looked back and typically finish a book every week.

So, what is so powerful about the written word that would make people bury their collective noses in a batch of paper and avoid the world of electronics. Thought, emotion, adventure, cliche, memories, faith, loss. For me the allure was adventure. Being the typical school boy, I gravitated to fantasy novels, such as Tolkien, Belgeriad, Rift War, and anything Dungeons and Dragons, and sci-fi, such as Dune, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Mission: Earth. To say I became obsessed is an understatement. I actually found a job so I could by books and when money was not available I resorted to theft to sate my addiction. ::Sniff-sniff:: I stole to support my habit, not even my mother knows about that.

Then, I got bored. And poor. Not just bored and poor, but bored and poor and married. Not just bored and poor and married, but now I was responsible too. I couldn't afford to buy books because I had a wife and children and I developed a conscience so stealing was no longer an option and I had a ::sniff-sniff:: JOB! I started reading all the books I had accumulated until I could practically tell you the entire Rift War Saga one year later in a PowerPoint presentation, complete with cliff-notes and references in APA format, without looking at the books for a refresher. Sad isn't it. Bored. So Bored. Working and still soooooo stinking boooored.

So I decided to broaden my literary horizons. I re-read classics like Beowulf, Copperfield, and the Pilgrims Progress. I read documentary short stories of World War Two. I read mystery novels. I read cyberpunk novels (Neuromancer and Infoquake anyone?). I read political intrigue, go Vince Flynn. I was still bored. The books were good but they didn't sing to me. They didn't spark my imagination. They. Were. Boring.

So, one boring evening while eating with my family in a Chinese buffet, my mom suggested the Twilight saga.

::Gasp:: ::Choke:: ::GAG:: ARE YOU SERIOUS!! ::More gasping, choking, and gaging::

My mind rebelled. I pantomimed thrusting my entire arm down my throat so I could regurgitate the very thought of stooping to a teen angst, emo-ridden, goth-sapp, romance book aimed at every heart-throbbing teenage girl in existence.

Ugh!

Ugh Ugh!!

UGH UGH UGH!!!

Then a coo, like the sound of dove (yeah ... props to Dr. Seuss), stopped me in my tyrannic chest-beating act that would make any silver-back gorilla proud, and forever changed my life. My 11-year-old daughter told me I was being a hypocrite. I had been telling her she should try new things and not let prejudice cloud her thinking, she might be surprised by her own bravery when she gets out of her comfort zone. That pulled me up short. She smirked and began singing a song from that annoying show my 4-year-old son likes, Yo-Gabba-Gabba. "Try it, you might like it!" I got pissed, I glared at her, she smirked again, I tried to kick her, I threw a egg-roll, I relented. I read Twilight. Me. a 36-year-old heterosexual buffoon read a teen-angst book about a human, vampire, werewolf love triangle and I LOVED it.

What the HELL! Am I gay! ..... no. Metro!! ...... no. I'm bored and this is .... is... new... FRESH! .... scary. I read the first three novels in two days. My mom still had the fourth novel and was only half way through. What?! I had to wait!?! I DON'T THINK SO!!!! I got the novel, finished it in one day, and got it back to my mom so she could finish.

I was a Twilight fan. A 36-year-old male Twilight fan. Hmmm .... there's a creepy side to this and I just cannot figure out if I should be scared for admitting I like Twilight. See, I am not swooning with delight and drooling over Hollywood's vision of the characters. I got hooked on the actual story and the theory of supernatural monsters that can overcome the role fate sets and become what they want. Yes there is romance and enough whining to sate even the most die-hard emo-ridden psycho. But there is more. For me, there was an epiphany. A discovery of such proportions that this written word has changed my life forever.

Few things in life can bring absolute clarity of thought. Near-death (or near-life) experiences, moments of faith, and in this particular case .... the written word. In the second book (New Moon, chapter 24) one of the main characters realize that the other character is so in love with her that he is willing to sacrifice everything he is for her, and she feels the same towards him. Yes, very emo-tear-jerking-slobbering-crying ..... very ::SQUEEEEEEE:: moment. I read this. I read it again. I read it one more time trying to grasp the depth of insight and emotion. The written word took a 20 pound Halibut and began beating me about the head and shoulders with a realization so profound, I had to read it again. Then my very own epiphany. I have this. I have had it for 14 years. I have had the very best of human existence for 14 years and I have been neglecting it. I came to realize that very few things are important in life. For me there are now three: 1) my faith, 2) my family, 3) everything else in a random order depending on importance as they begin annoying me.

So. The written word. A source of release. A source of wisdom. A source of mindless bliss. A source of soul crushing despair. A source of mind expanding self-realization. Which one works for you? I like all of them. I learn when I read. I learn about my imagination, my goals, my limits, my emotions, and I learn that I am like other people. I am one of a kind among millions of one of a kinds. We all have moments of angst. We all have moments of romance, granted some moments are like a hammer courting a nail. We all want to belong. We all long for a better life or a second chance at happiness. Chances are we already have that life and haven't realized it yet. The written word is a treasure trove of information wherein a person seeking answers can find a safe harbor from the terrors of life. The written word is a source of life-affirming or life-damning insights that one can either learn and grow from, or wither and die.

I hope and pray that we each find our epiphany. I found mine in a book. You may find yours elsewhere, a movie, a play, a conversation, a prayer. Never give up looking for your own epiphany. Don't forsake living because you are hurt. Don't forsake reading and looking for your answer in the written word. There is power in words. Power to change lives.