Which Will You Choose?

What is this fascination humanity has with monsters? This idea of good and evil and how the apparent monster is really good and the unapparent monster is the one who is evil. How many people have asked the question, “what makes a monster and what makes a man,” but what really is a monster? We see a man on tv rape and kill a hundred men and women and we call them a monster, but they call themselves a tragic hero. A war survivor comes home with torturous memories of killing man after man and calls himself a monster, but we call him a tragic hero. So what does make a monster? The actions of destroying life alone? Or must awareness come with it? Is it society’s job to label one a monster or is it the job of the man himself. Some might say that it does not count if you cannot help it, the soldier was simply following orders so clearly it is not his fault, but the serial killer has a dysfunctional brain that makes killing the only option for satisfaction. Does he really have a choice. So maybe we’re all just good soldiers following orders whether those orders come from a general or a broken brain or the bottle or the screaming of pain in the neglected. So does that make us all monsters?

We generally see monsters as those differing from the norm. Frankenstein’s monster and Mr. Hyde and Count Dracula were some of our very early monsters. Abominations of humanity that killed because that was all they knew how to do. Mr. Hyde was literally the epitome of the evil side of a human. Count Dracula killed because he needed to survive. And Frankenstein’s monster was tortured and neglected by his creators and became consumed by revenge. But they were monsters because they killed. They were not “normal” humans. So am I not a monster because I have not killed? Not in reality, but in my mind I have killed plenty. I have lost who I am in my daydreams. Am I capable of killing? Quite possibly. I would like to say of course not, but when pushed far enough any human could take the life of another. Monsters live inside of us all. Maybe that is why we are so obsessed with the idea. It is a part of humanity that we like to bury in ourselves, but bring about in other people. We are fascinated by our ability to ‘turn evil’ and yet we refuse that we as individuals will ever become such a thing. That man over there killed thirty people so he’s a monster. That woman slept with twenty men and now they have STD’s so she’s a monster. That kid brought a gun to school and killed several of his classmates so he’s a monster. Yet just because you have never taken the life of another human does not mean you have never killed.

What constitutes as killing? Taking a life. Life does not just mean the proper working of the body, it means the workings of the mind as well. How many times have you made fun of someone for something they wore or they said and made them feel bad about it? That is taking away a part of their life because now they feel like they will be attacked if they show it. How many times have you said no to someone because they had a different color skin or different genitalia or different ideas about the universe and who made it? That is taking a life because you are telling them that what they’re made of and what they believe in are not good enough to exist. How many times have you wished someone ill or tried to get revenge because of something someone did to you? Frankenstein’s monster got revenge on his creators. He killed them. You are killing those people in your mind. And the thing is, everyone does it. Nobody's infallible against the people we cannot stand. So is everybody a monster?

No.

Monsters are merely a concept created by humanity to lay blame on others and avoid facing our own shortcomings. Monsters do not exist. Only the blundering, hopelessly arrogant complication that is humanity. We are all capable of evil. But we are also all capable of good. So which will you choose?

The Importance of Storytelling

 Everything around me is clean. Not like a hospital, sterile and starched, but raw and untainted. The crispness of the air makes me shiver and huddle closer to my best friend as we stare in silence at the beauty that is Ireland. The soft, unfamiliar sound of the horses' hooves clip clop along the muddy path tugging the buggy that holds my whispering peers and I as we explore the wonders and magic of Ireland's largest national park. The scene is familiar enough with the abundance of greenery and the white skies and the damp, earthy air, but there is a deeper existence surrounding us, pushing against our souls as we delve deeper into the woods.
We pass by a woman walking her dog and the buggy driver greets her cheerfully. I am surprised a little. More often than not I've observed that strangers like to ignore each other, but these two greeted each other like old friends. The small gesture puts a smile on my face as I begin to appreciate the connectedness that this little island has. I huddle closer to my friend pulling our blanket tighter around us as I wonder what life would be like if this kind of friendliness and kindness was universal. I have always dreamt about that as a reality, but seeing it in action was something else.
That augmenting feeling, that deeper existence, seemed to amplify in that moment. Like a hum whispering from the ground, reverberating ever so slightly in my chest. There is an energy all around us, the likes of which I had never experienced before. It is old. Ancient. The low, whispering hum; the earthy, raw air that permeates my soul. As we pass by the vast, sloping hills I watch as battles of old rage across the countryside. In the still, mirror-like lochs I observe fishermen in handmade boats sitting on a summer's day as bright fairies flit across the surface of the water. Amongst the trees, elves and creatures dance to the tune of a flute playing tricks on the human children scampering through the woods on a cold, autumn's day. The energy is magic, and it is the eternal depth of the history of this one little island. I am overcome with the power of the stories written across those rolling pastures- peaceful now, but once racked by war- and the lives that breathed into the earth that this buggy is now trundling over carrying half a dozen kids who would never know them. It is in this moment that I realize the connectedness between the buggy driver and the dog walker. It is not simply a friendly greeting common among Irish folk, but an acknowledgment of their history and the love for their culture. A love that is so often forgotten in the controversial life of the United States of America.

It is here and now that I decide what I want to do. This moment teaches me that hundreds of years of shared stories can cause two complete strangers to act as old friends. To greet each other in a gesture of unity. Throughout my high school career I have been learning about the importance of storytelling as I have explored the world of creative writing, drama, and opera. Up until this moment, though, I simply told stories because it was fun and I was good at it, but then this moment happens, and then this moment passes, and I realize there is far more to storytelling than simple entertainment. Stories create unity and inspire love through connectedness, and that love is what we seem to be missing in so much of our society. A sad reality. In this moment, the energy- the magic -of this land fills me with a passion to seek and learn and tell. How could the stories I tell influence society? What impact could I have on the people I love through storytelling? It is in this moment that I choose my path. I am scared to follow it.
Storytelling is not an easy life to live. I am uncertain about my future and the stability of my comfort, but a buggy driver and a dog walker show me that your own home comforts are nothing compared to love shared through one's culture and one's history. How many stories are out there that have never been told and may never be told? How many of those stories could change someone's life? These questions circle my cacophonous mind every time I doubt myself. To live selflessly is to live for love and that is what I will need to do. I must be honest and genuine if I wish to influence even one life with a story I tell, whether it be through writing or music, both of which are my mediums. This moment is completely genuine. This moment is full of love. This moment teaches me that stories are not just created, but also create.