Peace on Earth: Be Careful What You Wish For

So somewhere back in season seven of The X-Files, there’s an episode called Je Souhaite, which means “I Wish.” A sharp-witted, bored-with-the-world genie is found in a rug by people who make some predictably stupid wishes, made even worse by the genie’s wickedly-literal way of granting them. Idiots, you think. I’d make better wishes. I’d be more careful. So when Mulder inevitably finds himself with three wishes, he tries to do better and starts with “peace on earth”—and discovers that aside from him, the genie’s vanished the rest of the human race. Well, technically…

I’m not actually sure I even believe in the possibility of peace on earth. As people, we don’t seem to ever have been that good at it. And really, even if you did clear all the people out, the food chain of animals and nature would still exist, and they devour each other all the time, so what’s your definition of peace? Where nothing ever dies? Play that one out in your head.

I don’t know. For me, the only peace I can even begin to wrap my head around starts small, in the only place I have any control over. In me. Being comfortable with whoever it is I am right now, but choosing to stay open, trying to do better. And being honest that I can barely keep that going, let alone influence what other people choose. To not get dragged around by insisting that things should be different than how we want them, which is the instant where we’re actually deciding to be unhappy, to not be at peace. I think maybe peace starts when you’re just able to sit in a room, quiet, all by yourself, and be truly content. To not wish for something else. I think that’s where peace starts, at least for me.

Sure, I think peace on earth is a good idea—but even if I controlled the script and all the characters in it, I don’t exactly know what that would look like. So it isn’t a New Year’s Resolution. It isn’t even a wish. And given human nature, it’s pretty much completely impossible. But it’s still a good idea.

A Rose By Any Other Name…

There could be a lot of preamble here about how naming things and/or people is not only important, but fun. But for now, the name I’m having the most fun with?

Benedict Cumberbatch.

What a fantastic, delightful name. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, two friends of mine suggested I look into the BBC’s reworking of Sherlock Holmes, simply called Sherlock. It took me awhile to get to it (the first series aired in 2010) but right they were. Quick, neat, charming, devious. Fun. And playing Sherlock? That would be Benedict Cumberbatch.

The BBC has modernized it (ie: Sherlock’s stories are told on Watson’s blog), but it’s still witty and webby surrounding the science of deduction. Watson (Martin Freeman) is a great foil for Sherlock, and their relationship, which begins uncertainly, quickly transforms into something quirky and delightful.

As usual for British television shows, the seasons are short–the first two seasons are out and each has only three episodes. (Netflix has Season One on their Instant Queue.)

Patience is a virtue, I’m sure. But waiting for more Sherlock is not really where I want to work on developing it. Especially after meeting Moriarty.

 

Subversive Joy, and Other Fun Hobbies

During the Writer’s Guild of America strike in 2008, when a lot of people were arguing about power and control and rights and money, writer/director Joss Whedon put together this little supervillain internet musical called Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog. He wanted to create something great in the middle of all of the haggling–just to show that great things could still be made—not with a huge budget, not with a lot of contracts and restraints, but just out of the sheer desire of a bunch of people who wanted to create something fun. When it later won a Creative Arts Emmy, Joss ended his acceptance speech by saying this: “Remember, the greatest expression of rebellion is joy.”

What a fantastic concept. To respond to frustrating situations and setbacks not with anger or hostility, but with sheer irrepressibility of your own spirit. And Whedon knows a thing or two about having to keep going. His fantastic tv shows keep getting canceled and his movies don’t hit blockbuster status (of course, directing The Avengers coming out this summer could change that), but he’s definitely had his share of setbacks. A lot of us look at each other when they hear he’s making something new for television and say, “Hasn’t he learned that they just keep canceling his stuff?” But still he keeps making stuff he loves, and there are an awful lot of us out here who love it too, even though we know it’ll probably have a short run. We curse the sudden-but-inevitable betrayal. (That’s a Whedon Firefly joke. And if you don’t know that gem of a short-lived series, you really should. Go pick it up.)

So tomorrow is another Monday, and because of Daylight Savings Time, it’s going to be here an hour earlier than normal.

Do something fun with it. Rebel creatively. Suggestions welcome.

 

Weltschmertz (and a Happy New Year to you, too)

Weltzschmertz: Fun word to say, terrible lifestyle choice. It translates directly from German as “world weariness,” and is defined here as “sorrow that one feels and accepts as one’s necessary portion in life; sentimental pessimism.” Egads. You know what that looks like? It’s a solemn kid who grows up without laughter in a grim, dust-coated house, who’s told that he shouldn’t even bother looking outside because it’s grim and dusty everywhere else, too, and that’s just how life is. It’s Eeyore, except less cute and purple and fuzzy. What a way to live.

In presenting a somewhat shinier alternative, I have to admit to a terribly embarrassing guilty pleasure: a couple of years ago I ran across the Disney movie Pollyanna (1960, Hayley Mills) while flicking through tv channels, and I was fairly horrified to discover that the more I watched it, the more I liked it. (My ego compels me to tell you here that Fight Club ranks high on my top-five favorite movie list, just to retain some semblance of credibility with you.) But there’s a quote attributed to Abraham Lincoln in Pollyanna (though in truth actually written by director David Swift) that really struck me:

“If you look for the bad in mankind expecting to find it, you surely will.”

And you know, I believe it. You’ll find it in yourself. You’ll find it in everyone around you. You’ll find whatever you’re looking for, and looking through grime-colored glasses is a choice. Yes, Pollyanna is a Disney movie. And I know the word “optimistic” is often considered a synonym for “ignorant.” But her good-seeking game didn’t stem from some loopy, mindless dementia that denied reality—her kind of optimism took guts. (You try finding a way to confront the political and religious leadership in your life, not to mention your own family, and just see if that doesn’t require guts, results notwithstanding.)

There is actually a very similar (and verified) quote of Lincoln’s, in which he says, “People are just about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” And so, for this new year, I wish you Pollyanna’s guts—to look purposely for the good in and around you. Not to pretend away the very real, terrible and tragic things that we keep doing to each other on varying scales. (And by all means, let’s try not to add to them.) But just don’t settle for only seeing those things.

Bah, weltschmertz. Who needs it?