Young Writers Society

A/N: The happiness manifesto. The feeling of being human is lowly. So instead be a robot and contract a role. Truth hovering over you dissevers the pain.

When you're dying, each breath becomes increasingly harder to take. The only difference when you're truly living is that you take pleasure in not being able to catch that same breath—because death is your neighbor, not an unwelcome guest. Howbeit “if you permit yourself to read meanings into, rather than drawing meanings out of the evidence, you can draw any conclusion you like” - (Michael Keith). You must know where you’re going beyond this present place & time, or be bound to be a slave to not simply Something, but every Way the wind blows.

True happiness is with us at birth, and we kill ourselves the very day we go in pursuit of it.

And I say, who's got friends when they're Staring at the End? “The chain

which can be yanked

is not the eternal chain” -John G. Fitch

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves - Henry david Thoreau

Envy is ignorance, blindness; imitation is suicide - Ralph waldo Emerson

“I submit to you that if a man hasn't discovered the right thing to Imitate, the thing to die for --he isn't fit to live (MLK jr.)

...Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”

Take risks. If you win you will be happy; if you lose you will be wiser & kinder. - Anon

(confucius) - They must often change who would be constant in happiness or wisdom.

“Most people die at 25 and aren't buried until they're 75.” - (Ben franklin) They must often grapple up at the Sky who would avoid this, and keep growing.

The mass of men are CONScripted to lead quiet lives of desperation - Thoreau

“Half the work that is done in this world is to make things appear what they are not:”(E.R. Beadle) and too much of the truth we could Discern with our minds, is passively neglected so It might remain disabled from weighing SaVAGEly on the owner’s mind: and when half the world is this EMptY scaffold of polished Architecture, why would you ever trust what seems to be courteous on a local level - or a National One

“Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers --” Alfred Lord Tennyson

- and elbOwGreasE after the world’s Truths forever pays.

What if there was a world filled with such harmonious life that all the conceivable arrangements of any mortal words ever created could not do justice to its beauty? What if I told you that place was a lost privilege; a homeland, stricken from sheer memory? What if I told you it was Forfeited for acts of foolishness, abandoned by those who had everything they could ever want, who instead went after things they had no need of. And that the inhabitants were excommunicated.

Forced to live in a Harsh new world, so close to, yet so far from this perfect playground, they continue to this day where they left off: plagued by regrets, haunted by a nostalgia for a place they know not has been wrested from their mind and replaced as a void in their heart, plaguing themselves by Son, moon, and mourn with ceaseless acts of folly, hoping it will get them closer to achieving such total pleasure.

Do they sound forsaken, forlorn; altogether forgotten? Perhaps it is too late for them. But what if that mistreated world was still there, waiting to be rediscovered? That was their line of thought exactly. Of course they had no idea that once upon a time they had occupied it; and since they only retained the most fleeting notion of a dream (not even enough to remember it as the literal world it was) construed this figment of paradise into thoughts of building: hammering hopes and dreams into shapes of communal prosperity, trying to give birth to a grade A life where one could lay down troubles and take up rest, an endeavor to make laughter truly sweet rather than bitter.

This Peace Plan, they knew, would never be a total bed of roses, but the plan saw everyone living on Easy Street dining on high hog. Maybe one day enough of a worry-free atmosphere could breed Trust, which would blossom into True Love with swiftness, and then with everyone getting along so well, Joy would outgrow, then choke out the weeds of Grievance to near extinction. Yes, something very much like that plan became the collective goal, because peace could only be imagined as a general goodness, one that left the least amount of imperfection and overall hindrance. But things were obstinate: Adversity has long, and many an unforeseen arm.

From an outside perspective, does that seem a little backwards? It was given to them from the start, but they scrapped a plentiful life in seeking more when they were already amongst overflowing treasures. Then later they feel the same way about their new world: that it lacks. Albeit there is an aim on their radar of improvement this time around, but they are really only rebuilding.

Going backwards (for just a tiny space of mind) seems to prove the only sane route to moving forward. Is that logical? Realize something is broken, what is broken, how did it get broken, how can it be fixed? Did you notice anything was left out? Not to be confused with how, is: why? Why did this thing breakdown?

Let me demonstrate the difference between how & why, so the distinction will never again fool you. How did the leg break? The girl fell. That is only half the story though; where there is an effect there is a cause. The effect cannot cause itself. Something forced her collapse. The next question must be posed or the story is forever incomplete. It plays off of answer one. Why did she fall? She was weak for lack of sleep, and also emotionally taxed. Whyis a leap. You really have to observe, be scientific, perhaps methodical until it becomes monotonous, to find out the why of anything. Why is the question of curiosity. One might ask why she didn’t get any sleep, or why the bone broke in the fall? To ask either of those is to ask more than one question. A question like that is more complex than at first glance. It could go into subcategories, fuel an endless circle of further questions because eventually, due to all the variables, one will come across a question beyond capacity. Should one build up to, and gain an answer to one stumping question, the likelihood is that the process will continue so on and so forth in a chain reaction. A chain of links so vicious that if pursued, can drive one to the end of an earth and destroy them in a quest for every single item it is attached to a fine print Understanding of it. See, you could get still more information, but we don’t need to hear all the business that went on in her life leading up to the tragedy.

While when why is discovered generally, by and Large the answer is clear, in many a case it is well enough to leave it alone and accept that which has been made known as ample Grasp. The Big Picture can suffice. So, is there a time to put logic and ambition aside? Settle for a cardinal basis as the bedrock? If you try to force through it, get to a solid diamond core of some things, the bedrock may crumble to reveal a bottomless pit. Curiosity has been known to kill cats.

Now let’s imagine (critically important skill to Making a Dent in abstract musings) that there is a king who has tasted all the known food and drink in his entire kingdom, but he has a hankering to dazzle all his buds with a fresh taste. Where can he go? Different foods can grow in different climates, so he ventures outside the kingdom. The Neighboring kingdoms quickly become a bore, so he sends explorers across the sea to quite distant lands. Money is no object. That absolutely delights the King--for a greater length of time too in his period of waiting. Eventually, despite how he varies all his food groups or mixes and matches to diversify his feasts, nothing slakes. Been there done that syndrome. By now, he’s scouted all the most remote regions, even discovered some new countries in his search, and now has seen all the exquisite tastes the globe has to offer. His appetite is insatiable. He persists, and scours for “just one last treat for my tongue,” which ends up as a quest to find the Holy Grail, a wild goose chase. Returning home, dismayed, he decides he can placate his problem still. If it can’t be found naturally, artificial concoctions might provide just the trick. He sets his most brilliant men on the task, and using natural resources, mix and blend using the method of trial-and-error to form an edible man made treat.

He wants more edge, something that nobody can scarcely imagine. Say the king gets his artificial taste; he has to keep devising creative ways to satisfy his addiction. Otherwise he’s just ever one away from Juicy Sustenance. Yet the worst part is still to come for our King. So gripped by this fancy, he's neglected just about everything else going on, in, and around the kingdom. In terms of living, he's hell-bent on a single desideratum & walking dead; thus he unwittingly or stubbornly contaminates all those inside the influence of his hand. For one, his attention is diverted. For two, If you have something nobody else does then what shall everyone else covet? Your “Advantage” of course. They might hesitate to knock you off, but only in order to plan how and where to dispatch and dispose of you neatly. If unlucky, they might not even grant him the small mercy of a neat job.

The anticipation many a time is better than the thing itself, once received, and attainment many a time delivers a swift demise. The kingdoms topple one after another for the same reasons; from the inside out. Break one rule at a time, poke the limits slowly to exact the longest duration of fun, to see if it will stretch, to ease the tedious rut that is boredom. But set stone was not meant to be melted and molded, nor seams made to be loosed. Like a mouse scurrying across the midnight carpet, it goes almost unnoticeable--until one day it slaps your face further than it is long. All the cheesy goods have been plundered! there's a trail visible in the carpet, and it’s suspiciously mouse-sized! All of a sudden it has gone too far to rectify. The fall teeters on the horizon. Savor the fleeting healthy moments; at that point the core is rot and it will only be a matter of time before the effects seep to the surface.

But that’s lumping several generalities together isn’t it? There are always groups and stereotypes, and there’s a lot of truth to that; but never overlook the individual. Here’s the punch line: The bigger they are the harder they fall. The empires, the countries, the classes, the family name, the bigger or longer-established the Group the more Importance & reputation required to upkeep is placed upon >:-and the individuals tend to be overshadowed and outspoken. It’s hard to make that impact all alone or even as a united humble few individuals. It’s never as simple as one person; but it isn’t much more complicated either. Can so many reasons all be truth? But none of us is everybody and we have to first use generalities to forge through the mire.

Does this all sound ridiculous? Then I’ll say something far more ridiculous. One world was, one world is, and both are our world. Why don’t we recall the one that was, the things that were? Should we regard such as myth? Look closer sisters, brothers-- Our lost privilege. It is not still somewhere. It is not still there. It does not live on passed down from our ancestors memories. It is still Here. The relics of such a glorious birthright remain, however trodden upon, within the very earth that rather than crumble at any given step, miraculously upholds your feet instead.

Though be warned, the steps are worn heavy, bogged down by the stinking rich sacks of contemptuous greed we sling about our shoulders. The ground can, it has, and continues to chafe to dust and give way beneath those whose deadweight tasks have led to a race of Disconsoles. After witnessing history repeat itself, after trying to fix the errors gone before us and tirelessly failing, after such a revert in the intellectual spectrum, we must ask where on Earth the remedy lies. Is there one? There is almost always one. To find it we must face ourselves, and face human nature, which are beasts being constrained by courtesies and lying tongues. Does the potential lie within us, or is the power elsewhere? And what does that say about our state of fixability? I have to suggest it is not within us: for in our Manner of Thoughts we are still pipe-dreaming and chasing sweet tooths, & living primarily for ourselves of the 7 days of the week as opposed to living them for the coming generations. But The pleasure we derive from the representation of the present is due, not only to the beauty it can be clothed in, but also to its essential quality of being the present. (Charles Baudelaire)

AND we are They, the excommunicated ones; the once soft pads of our feet, bashed on the edges of rocks, torn ragged by thorns, baked and infected by the sun-scorched dirt. Some owners of aching soles once caught wind of a relic or two. Yes, the very wind speaks to them as it was the one who brought them the fragments of a Greater Puzzle, & it alerts them to and spares them from hidden tragedy. Both personal & Global level events. These owners of bleeding soles found assurance in the distressingly defaced, but quite tangible Heirlooms: ways of life which taught them how to go about cleaning and dressing the lacerations, and though future wounds advance inevitable, in their now treatable walk, relearned how to glimpse the true nature of immortalities.

Yet for all the antiques’ remedies, when those who began the trade of mending soles offered it as evidence they were grounds for mockery, leaving them apprehensive to spread the good news of alleviation: because the only Grievous occurrence Left in their World is publicizing the Message to people who resent it and keep on drowning. For they know the healing power & how it only comes from one source. They felt it as the brambles came free, as the swelling receded, as the scabs stitched the skin whole, as the scar tissue held fast. And these have listened to Instruction, and taken the Advice. NOW they Await the time of the blessed Atrocity to come when our all-too-consequential world should be disclosed as the rightful Dominion, & at long last humanity restored to a Preeminent Province…

The cannon thunders... limbs fly in all directions... one can hear the groans of victims, and the howling of those performing great sacrifice... it's Humanity in search of happiness. (Baudelaire)

But we are all human, I thought, wondering what Anybody meant by stating this.

I mean we all have our differences, our flaws, our talents, so that nobody is exactly the same. Our make-up and journey through life is distinct and individual, but we all struggle through the same kinds of pains: acceptance, understanding, belonging, abandonment, futility, tediousness, mediocrity etc. which qualifies us of the same sort of spirit. For we have the same Fears & needs - And we all have longings we can’t (C.S. Lewis) because nothing of this world remains new and ready and renovated. And we actually want to be immersed, and be submerged into Beauty itself. - “For This life is a hospital, (Inhospitable) where each patient is possessed by the desire to change his bed.” (Baudelaire)

(Lewis) -- Now Suppose one reads a story of filthy atrocities in the paper. Then suppose that something turns up suggesting that the story might not be quite true, or not quite so bad as it was made out. Is one’s first feeling, `Thank God, even they aren’t quite so bad as that;’ or is it a feeling of disappointment, and even a determination to cling to the first story for the sheer pleasure of thinking That one has forfeited what it is to be human, and yet I remain unscathed with my Civility intact. If it is the second then it is, I am afraid, the first step in a process which, if followed to the end, will make us into devils. You see, one is beginning to wish that black was a little blacker. If we give that wish its head, later on we shall wish to see grey as black, and then to see white itself as black. Finally, we shall insist on seeing everything - God and our friends and ourselves included - as Contemptuous bastards, or inferior beastly low-lives, and not be able to stop doing it. We shall be fixed for ever in a universe of Hierarchy & hatred where we each feel we deserve better than some, and any we feel who carry themselves better than us are real hoity-Toity. Nevertheless it has always been this way: continually asking the most haughty & Imperious question of all-time; why do bad things befall good people, and good things get to happen to the bad instead of their equal repayment, receiving their Just vengeance. We need forgiveness of being weak, & bewildered fearfully, and being Human, and therefore lashing out in anger or Amassing walls of Pride. “Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky