Do not despair
Friday, May 19th, 2006
I thought I’d end my “guest” days with an encouraging word or two. And I’ll do so by responding to the most common question that’s been in my inbox over the past few months, which goes something like “does everything just suck? Are we doomed to stupidity and fundamentalism and fascism?” And my answer - Smithly speaking - is no.
Fascism and fundamentalism depend on people surrendering their perspectives - the narratives they’ve developed - and letting someone *else* write the story for them. Whether it’s churchgoers surrendering their understanding of God to the minister, or voters surrendering their understanding of civics to Karl Rove, the loss of access to one’s own storytelling ability is akin to losing one’s grip on reality.
That’s right: maintaining authority over the story *is* maintaining a connection to the very engines of creation. Everyone has a story, as Larry likes to say - that doesn’t mean every person’s story is interesting to every other person. But it does mean that every person has a right to his or her own story - one’s own way of connecting the dots, understanding the passage of time, and recognizing the patterns that emerge.
Too many of us are willing to deny ourselves the right to that narrative, or too ready to believe our own version of the story is just not as important, accurate, or relevant as those of some external authority. (Just because people pay to watch some story, or vote for its hero, doesn’t mean it’s any more true than yours.)
So my word of hope is this: as long as you can tell your own story, it means *their* story hasn’t yet been locked down. It means there’s still hope, still possibility, and still life.
Enough of me. Here’s to your stories.
Well said, and a good note to end on. Having the nature of “the story” being open to anyone also reinforces your own diminuitive place in the ongoing Song of Man… where we are at best a loud short noise. We can only hope to remain refrain for a while before being remixed or repurposed; the trick is what you choose to do with it. Jesus embodies both best/worst case scenarios simultaneously, where the good work of Then justifies some really horrible things now. Thank God I’m not Jesus.
That said, I’ve been following your nonfic/fiction/comix since the MEDIA VIRUS days, and it’s such a bouncy coincidence that you’re guestblogging here the week our SHOOTING WAR comic is headliner here.
I really wish I’d written to you sooner; we’ve been working some kinks out in prep for Week 2. Hopefully we can parlay post-SMITH…
Hi,
I just wanted to say that I enjoyed your week of guest blogging here. I also wouldn’t mind hearing a few more personal stories on your regular blog, but I understand your aversion for them in that forum.
One topic I’d love to hear more about is your background in directing for theater. As someone who is just starting a serious break from all things theater related (for my own sanity and for financial reasons) I’d like to hear how you got into and out of that scene.
–matt
Between bouts of revulsion at 18th C. and 19th C. British imperialism over Ireland (I’m writing a book about my family), which looks, smells and acts like present UKUSISRAUS imperialism in Iraq, right down to the gory details, and tinkering with a few stories under the heading of “the legless woman who ran away and other tales of columbia county,” I’ve enjoyed your stuff.
I love your last post. On a way to a pitch meeting in downtown Manhattan last week, my colleagues and I were laughing about the way some people — for whatever religious or cultural reasons — will answer, “God willing,” shaking their hands pressed together as if in prayer, to the most simple questions, such as: “Cab driver, sir, do you think we can make it there in 25 minutes?”
“How about the gas pedal,” my boss joked, “That would be a good start.”
Well, caution is great, but that’s not what is happening a lot of times among those who believe life sucks and is out to get them. There are too many, as you say, who surrender control too easily and frequently — because it seems easier.
For instance, my lovely, sweet and generous and very caring cousin stopped speaking to me after the “regime” visited her church in Sterling, Michigan and told her that they believe in God. That’s all she needed, poor girl, and she did not want to hear about the article in WSJ about the North Carolina town that had almost all their young men fighting in Iraq, just months after returning from Afghanistan. She did not want to hear how those guys were part of the armed forces reserve units and had joined for the education benefit. She didn’t want to hear about the families and small businesses (and their futures) that were suffering without them. You’d think she’d care if you knew her — and I’m sure she did. But my sweet cousin is one of those that yields a bit too much to external authority. And the regime that told her their story first used a hook she couldn’t resist, and it’s hard for her to value her own story. Will she ever know the greatness of her own story? God willing.
So my contribution, valuable to the reader or not, is that one of the things that comes from realizing your own story is interesting and valuable is that you realize that others’ stories are too. And vice versa.
So, I couldn’t agree with you more — and you write is so perfectly. If more people could believe, beyond hope, that each of us has a story to tell — imperfect or unfinished yet authentic nonetheless — and, if we could realize that every move one takes is the next step or turn in the plot of one’s own story, we’d have a bunch of great stories/lives. Maybe that’s a little more than what you were saying, but I’m sure your last post will encourage more people to think about the value of their own stories. Thanks for that.
I’m all about personal story-telling, but when it comes to creating and exploring, I find myself drawn much more intently to the medium of video; what can I say, I grew up on MTV.
I only became aware of SMITHmag through Shooting War, but Rushkoff’s Coercion, really changed the way I view the media landscape by providing a clarity to a malignant culture where before I could only make out the broad strokes.
Reading this post, I’m reminded of a debate that has simmered more than once regarding the new trend of videoblogging; while there is some remarkable content being produced, much of it will be regarded as meaningless and banal to most people.
For sometime I’ve seen this phenomen as still an intensely positive thing, but I could not really explain why. During Vloggercon, I began to sense the possibilites created through this new form of media during a panel titled The Undiscovered Country (link to video), but Douglas Rushkoff’s final entry on SMITHmag once again illuminates a perspective that I previously coudn’t quite grasp.