The Olympics and How They Remind Us We're Alive

                So I’ve been watching the Olympics, and unlike my parents, don’t mute and ignore all of the commercials. Personally, I think that’s a generational thing; our generation, children of the information age, cannot pass up a soundbite. Especially those thirty seconds or less that aim to trick us into buying something. That’s where we are most at home; it’s like the internet.

                Anyway, so my interest has been piqued by the commercials for the new show Revolution; scheduled to come out September 17^th (because I’m sure as hell watching it. You best remember that date. And isn’t that the day after Nick Jonas’ birthday? Haha). This show is based on the premise that somehow, all the power in the world has been knocked out, throwing our information-driven world back into the dark ages. It is going to follow the path of one girl who gained her own power when everyone else lost theirs, and is now a Katniss-like badass survival machine.

                This story is not unique. Hullo, the Hunger Games, first of all. A girl, hopeless against outside events as she fights for survival? With a bow? Yes. This has been done before. The whole survival thing has been done; it’s like some ingrained human fetish. And I am definitely one of those most affected; Survivor is one of my favorite shows, Hunger Games was for a time, an obsession, anyone heard of the game Lost in Blue for DS? I’ve had it for years, and need to replace it, so I can beat it for the third time WITHOUT it freezing up on me. Survival isn’t just the aim of all living things, it’s ingrained into their conscious minds, too. And now that humans, at least most of them, don’t have to worry about it, we still return to it for entertainment.

                Why is this? Well, for one, like sex, it’s something that never gets old. It’s the essence of our existence, and nothing gives us more of a thrill. Just like the Romans, with their panem et circenses, and Panem of the Hunger Games, with their own arena. Those who are comfortable, and safe, still need to feel, to be thrilled, and this is how.

                That’s the ultimate intrigue of Revolution, and why, come September, I will be hard pressed to miss a single episode(unless the writing makes me headdesk too hard. That has been known to happen, and is severely disappointing). Not only does it offer a kickass new female protagonist, but it looks like it will be thrilling and relatable. Especially for teenagers and younger people in general. We seem to feel the survival tug the strongest, seeing as we are just reaching the primitive definition of maturity. Our minds have yet to catch up with the centuries of what we call progress that has made our world much more boring in comparison to the sudden death thrill of primitive times. It was no mistake that Hunger Games and games like Lost in Blue are aimed at and are successful within the age groups they are.

                That’s possibly something that relates to your thoughts on inspiration by water; a return to our roots, the revealing of the human essence and what is purely necessary to us. There are things, in the collective human consciousness, that cannot fade through the years. Perhaps that’s the root of all excitement and inspiration, whether it be through the suffering that reminds us of the struggle for survival, or glimpses of what we came from at the basest of levels. The things that tug at our very standard heartstrings are incredibly straightforward, if we think about them.

~Leigh Shine

Summer Storms

Alison- Your (beautiful) post reminded me of the short blurb I wrote in the dark the other day after the power went out.

So here's "Summer Storms"

                I sat comfortably on the worm polyester seat, the seatbelt pressing lightly across my chest as I felt the pickup’s engine thrum beneath me. I breathed in the strange air, the indescribable sensation of coolness and humidity at once, at odds, that is only present during the moments after a summer storm. This one had been fierce, during its short life it had torn limbs from some of the trees nearby and left in its wake a layer of reflective warm water on the ground, the puddles and newly rechristened asphalt bouncing the neon lights of the storefronts  and bright lines from the streetlights and stop lights back into the air. It looked like nighttime on Route Nine, the dark clouds blocking out the sun as they struggled behind the quickly moving storm.

                We turned west onto a side street, the neon and cement soon replaced by weighty vegetation, wetness still dripping from the newly hydrated bright green leaves. Just then the sun came out, its setting orange hues bouncing around this new house of mirrors. It bathed the sopping street in its glow, newly brilliant in the face of the receding darkness. I felt its weak warmth on my cheeks through the still present wet humidity. Another turn and I could see the pale sky, glorious in peaches and golds, the edges of the parting clouds stained with the promise of a lighter world behind them, and so far above. It is in these moments that I think I can see a glimpse of Heaven. Surely this is why, long ago in the land of nomads and primitive cave sketches, the ancestors chose to place Paradise there, in that hidden world atop the golden ridged clouds.

                By the time gravel crunched and the old pickup tilted in its familiar dance toward home, the atmosphere had achieved an uneasy equilibrium. The bright sunlight submitted to the storm’s strange aftermath, filtering through the thick air and shedding an eerie glow on the world. Yes, I thought as the door slammed, echoing slightly in the heavy atmosphere, I loved summer storms.

I'll do a real post soon,

~Leigh 

“Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it.”

I’m sitting here, pen and paper in hand with a million little ideas running through my mind. Sounds like a 

writer’s dream, right? It would be, if I could properly fathom my ideas the way I wanted them to come out.

Last week, a wonderful yet crazy thunderstorm hit my town. Squeaky clean from my shower, I had to run outside in the pouring rain to bring the patio furniture in. It was barely after dinner time and instead of the usual warm colors of the sunset flooding the sky, serious, dark clouds had taken over. It was an insane thunderstorm. I just kept staring out my window, repeating “this is awesome” to myself like a crazy person.

Looking back, I should have run to my room to write one of the bajillion-and-one ideas I have floating around my mind; I didn’t. The storm lasted for a good ten minutes and then blew the power. I ended up sitting in the dark for the rest of the night, itching to write, but could not because writing in the dark does not usually go well.

I’m hoping quite a few of you understand the feelings of inspiration I get from rain. If we really think about it, though, it isn’t just rain that gives us this power- it’s running water in general. This includes showers, waterfalls and a ton of other forms of H2O that are you know, running or moving in some way. So here’s the question: why is running water such a powerful muse?

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who gets amazing inspiration from rain. Writers, artists and musicians seem to get that A-HA! moment around water. Whether it’s listening to the water in a pond run through the filter, a hectic storm or a refreshing shower, plenty of people connect the dots to pieces they have been working on forever. That image or idea that was once hazy is now blazing brightly and burning you.

In school, I learned that the water we are using right now was also used by humans hundreds of years ago. It was also used by the first life forms that inhibited this planet. Like life, water is one of the few other things that act in a never-ending, unchanging cycle. Every life form on Earth is familiar with the cycle of life and the cycle of water; for they coexist, and without one, we would not have the other.

Think about it. I’m pretty sure water has been the only constant. Plant life comes and goes. Mammals, amphibians, reptiles and marine life all come and go. Environments change and the atmosphere has grown stronger and then gotten weaker. Yet somehow, a certain liquid has remained consistent, unchanging.

As of right now, water is the only thing we can count on. We know that wherever we go on this planet, we’ll always be sure of water even though we’re unsure of everything else. Wherever there is water, there is life (at least that is what be currently believe). If there is a drought, humans have known that water will eventually come again. When the environment around us changed as we discovered new lands, we knew there would always be water.

Humans haven’t always been on this planet. Guess what has? Water! It has always been here for us; it was here before us and it will most definitely be here after us. We rely on it. For its stableness, familiarity and ability to produce life. We don’t realize it, but when we look at water, we’re looking at the beginning of time for this planet. We’re constantly reminded of all of the unbelievable things water has brought and is continuing to bring.

Humans are constantly evolving. Novel ideas replace old ones almost too quickly. The world around is constantly moving and reshaping. Water, though, is immutable. It connects us with our origins and beginnings. Somewhere deep in the primitive parts of our mind, water brings out a comfort – a power – that we have relied on for all of our existence.

Water calms us because we can always count on it to be there. And what’s more inspirational than something that connects every living organism on this planet in a way like no other?

So tell me, what are your thoughts on the inspiration of water? No two people have the same perspective and I would love to hear yours. For now, though, I’ll leave you to ponder my words.

“Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it.”   ~Lao Tzu                                        

                                                                                              Yours Truly,

                                     Alison “Lost in Believing”