Bad Screenplays in Real Life

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players ..."

- William Shakespeare. Sure, Sir, but how does one pick a good screenplay?

We are so funny. People, I mean. Touchy egos. Always caught up in perceptions. "What are people saying about me? Who is saying good things? Who is telling untrue stories and poisoning the ones that like me? How can I put a stop to that?" Always defining ourselves in the eyes and words of others. "I know I did a poor job with this and that, but I still want to be patted on the back! If others say I did a great job then I did!" Constant improv drama.

Who are we really, in absolute terms? Are we the person right after we wake up - before the interactions with others get to confuse us? We certainly aren't the guy who was having nightmares all night! That one was off in strange lands, with people unseen and unthought of in years, having brushes with famous people and dark villains. Forget that! After waking up, in the land of the conscious, the nightmares fade, and we look at ourselves in the mirror, brushing our teeth. "Who is this guy? Hair all limp, face all puffy - this guy needs to get cleaned up! THEN I become the real me! Let's ditch this sorry state fast!"

The next real me emerges, jumps into the car with laptop, backs out of the garage carefully so that one of the side mirrors don't get crushed again. Off to work - speeds out of the residential lane into the main street - then promptly comes to a halt. Traffic. The sea of cars moves slowly towards the freeway - where the real traffic is. "Look at that idiot! Of course - had to be right in front of me! You are letting too many cars into our lane you idiot! MOVE!" We catch ourselves blowing a lid, wondering if the car behind you was able to see you throwing your arms about - like a monkey. "Even if 1% of drivers are like this idiot in front of me," we go on, "then I'll probably run into 20 of them today! Ridiculous!" We calm down, turn the music on, and try to relax. "OK, this guy is not me - he gets easily upset, and is too impatient and unhappy! I'll transform into the real me as soon as I get to work. That's where I excel!"

One more real me gets out of his car at the parking lot and walks towards the main office door, laptop bag in hand. "Dammit! My shoulder pain is because of this stupid laptop bag. What the hell is making it so heavy! This laptop is supposed to only weigh five pounds! And I'm sure my right leg is slightly shorter than the left. That doesn't help either! Look at me, a limping fool with unequal legs dragging my crooked ass to work. And I forgot to take my multi-vitamin again! Why can't I remember these simple things! I even kept the bottle by the toothbrush so I'd see it!" Doubts begin to arise about THIS real me. "I'll be OK - a nice cup of coffee, and get a good a going at work!"

A good day for who? "When I am the real me, is that a good day for me, or for those around me? Why does it have to be a good day? What does that have to do with being real? Hmm. Let me just enjoy my coffee and go to the staff meeting. Those meetings are a good way to start the day. Get some perspective, some gossip, and juicy politics."

Thoughts. Like dust kicked up by a blower. Blocking clarity! Hiding the real me? At the end of the day, while recovering from too many human interactions, a plan takes shape for tomorrow. "Tomorrow, I'll find the real me!"

Bedtime. A few deep breaths using the StressEraser begin to calm down the thoughts, push back the murkiness behind an imaginary yellow tape holding the crowds back. Clarity emerges a bit - yes! - some insight is about to come - about the real me!

Sleep swoops in - promptly picks up the vaguely emerging concept of real me and tucks it out of sight. Dammit!

Conditional Love

Meaningful Conversation Series

This is from a collection of topics from meaningful conversations with friends over time. Right now I define a Meaningful Conversation as a spirited sequence of stated opinions amongst wine-induced friends, sometimes with someone listening. This definition does not necessarily take into account any meaningful substance or general human progress. I hope to get some of the topics out and revisit my favorite ones over time.

About ten years ago over dinner a friend asked me if I believed in Unconditional Love. My instant response was "No." Conditions affect all our conscious actions, including our ability to love, and conditions can be strong enough to completely wipe out love - for someone or something, I said. I struck strongly to kill every counter-example that was suggested - so strongly that I don't even remember what they were.  "Unconditional love is impossible!"

I was a little slow. What was supposed to happen over the span of that conversation - thinking, reflecting on counter-points, jointly moving the topic forward, rewiring of a few neurons perhaps - happened over the next few days. At the end of it I called my friend urgently.  I reported the mathematical opposite of what I had said before. "I was completely wrong - what is impossible is conditional love," I said. Love is something that happens to us, not something we do, so we have no control over it. Conditions only affect actions we control, not things that happen to us. That was my new decision on the topic. I am sure it was not an original thought at that point - but it was the end result of my own processing. "All love is unconditional."

About the same time, another friend of mine had mentioned that there was no more original thought. Most fundamental concepts were already established hundreds if not thousands of years ago, and most new thought was a rehash or application of models from one topic to another - primarily for better understanding and communication. But she and I had both agreed that thankfully that did not stop us from thinking. The fact that she was in leather pants at the time did not make me take her any less seriously. In her defense, earlier she had a matching leather jacket on. She should have left it on, so others that came to that party later would have seen the reason for the leather pants, such as it was.

Going back to conditional love - or unconditional for that matter - the root of the topic remains. Is love something we do, or is it something we experience? Like a breeze, or sunshine. We do not control those, but you could argue we could hide from them. We could plainly choose to hide from sunlight and avoid the breeze, with or without conditions. Pushing the metaphor, you could argue that conditions, like clouds, could hide the sunlight. But those are external conditions, not caused by the subject. Yes, external conditions can wipe out the opportunity for love. The term "conditional love" suggests a decision by the subject - whether to to love or not, and how much, but not the opportunity to experience it. We can still choose to hide from it, with or without conditions. That does not make it conditional.

In this holiday season, I wish everyone the decision to not hide from the abundant love that exists in their lives. And yes - regarding the very few negative ones - they are only acting out of insecurity. Focusing too much on their negativity is like hiding from love. Recognize the love that shines on them too. After all, it is unconditional!