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Meaning

What could be the ‘deepest’ question to ask another person? I think it is “what’s the meaning of life?”, yet I feel this is also a cliche thing to say. A question that has most likely caused a lot of pain for individuals and societies can be shown in a different light to appear as a joke. Could this be because it is such a daunting question that seems to have no answer? It may be that the question is too direct, but a question that should be looked at instead is “why do people want a meaning to life?”

It seems people give a purpose to life in order to cope with the realities they are facing or a goal they will strive for in order to improve themselves. Looking at many of these purposes of life, I think they fall under the umbrella of hope. Something they have not yet achieved, or once obtained it must be sustained with constant effort. People may be seeking the same thing but call it different names.

by Steven Doherty 

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Selfishly Selfless

I think some people are living their lives in a certain way to see if someone will write a book about them. Doing extravagant and truly amazing things, sometimes ringing out through history. The deed has been done, but what was the point of the deed? Sometimes I think if the point even really matters, two people do a good act and you should take it as that. Although, the purpose of the act may be more important than the act, in showing true character.        Let’s say there are two people who have given money to a good cause. We may all be able to agree that a good thing has been done and there is no denying that. What if one person gave money to the good cause just because they felt was the right thing to do, and the other person gave money to the good cause because they wanted to be seen and acknowledged? Does this somehow taint the good cause? Is it then a selfish act to gain some sort of satisfaction? We can take it even further.        Let’s say one person donates to a good cause because a loved one is impacted by what the good cause is trying to support. If the person’s loved one was not impacted by it, would they have donated, would they even care? In a sense you may be only donating to this cause because it impacts a person very close to you. Does this taint the cause, is this a selfish act? I don’t know.

by Steven Doherty

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Battles

I hate being my own worst critic. If there was another person judging me as much I do, it would be easy to shrug off. The reason being because I know myself and I know the truth. I know what I want, could do, should do and am capable of doing. For some reason I can never hit those marks, or at least sustain them for a long period of time. I see the potential in myself and am disappointed with how much effort I put out at times. I truly believe I have the potential for greatness (whatever that means) and so does everyone else. Some people may be further along than others in this pursuit, even if it isn’t intentional.

Talent can only get you so far, then I believe it comes down to determination. This is the hardest part because it is constant effort, and these things that I want to be as a person seem daunting at times. It requires constant fighting but sometimes I get tired of fighting. Maybe my problem is I want to be that person now, fighting all battles at once instead of picking out one at a time.

by Steven Doherty

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Paths

I know when I wake up every morning I am terrified. Not knowing if I am sure this is what I want for my life. Many times I ask myself ‘Am I on the right path?’, I think this question goes deeper than that. I feel the first step is trying to figure out what the destination of the path is and to know if it is possible.

I should probably spend my entire life trying to discover this, but unfortunately that is not how life works. In that case I feel the best thing to do is find this undefined and fuzzy destination as soon as you can. Maybe the next step is to then look for the path to this destination, again this should take a long time but I am in a rush. Once I learn that this path to the fuzzy destination exists, I should analyze where I am currently standing. Am I in a position to simply hop over to that path or do I have to sail around the globe to get to it?

After that lifetime of work is finished I may be on the correct path to the fuzzy destination, as I look around in triumph I am humbled to realize I am at step 1 on a many step journey. The road will be difficult with many turns, obstacles, forks in the road and most difficult of all people. Perhaps the key to the path is following footsteps and advice of others who have done it before, but I must be wise in who I follow and listen to. Once the journey is completed I will reach the fuzzy destination and then have no idea what comes after that. I know when I wake up every morning I am terrified, then exhausted.

by Steven Doherty

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My Vote

We like to think money doesn’t matter but it does. I don’t think it matters in the sense of causing happiness, a sad person without money will be a sad person with money. However, it influences our lives everyday without us noticing a lot of it. It changes our perception of people, places and communities but it is more like putting on a face rather than substance. One area I find where the true impact lies is the political system. Just like everyone else we get one vote to determine who or what we want. It seems the people with money get two though, one for determining who or what they want and determining what we vote on.

by Steven Doherty

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Malcolm

   Why were they like they were? Why are they like they are? Would they be like this forever?  Mere children wearing old leathery skin. Where is their ambition for something more? Where is their faith in themselves?    These thoughts danced in Malcolms head. His family had been idle and unchanged for a lifetime now. Like his family, the world seemed bland and foolish. They both appeared to act solely on impulse and appetite. Standard Appliances Inc. were clearly the ones running this new world order ruled by consumerism. They owned the farms, grocery stores, satellites, search engines, social networks, everything. Two of the companies chairmen are currently running for president, each in one of the two opposing parties.    There was a mundane madness that society had created for itself. The ongoing drone war carried out against one of the last remaining neutral nations on earth despite our nation admitting to a false flag attack that left 13,000 dead on a now uninhabitable chunk of Alaska. I guess proof of innocence still doesn’t get you off the hook. Our great nation uses slave laborers from distant lands to mine the earth of its last precious metals.    "Nobody is concerned with this.“ Malcolm thought to himself. Decisions are made, archaic rituals continue unquestioned. Horrible ways go on unchecked. The truth is that most people are concerned with the current stats of baseball games; but that won’t matter to them next month. It doesn’t matter now. Consumption of unnecessary things. The madness had to end. Malcolm could no longer take it. He had already spoken to his mother about how he was feeling. She had told him that she doesn’t agree. She had told him that everything is fine just the way things are. Malcolm briefly spoke to his father about his thoughts. His father simply pointed out that life is far more dangerous outside of this country. “Those extremist heathens will chop off your head. Those fucks hate freedom!” exclaimed the tired old man.    This was many months ago and Malcolm was much more aware of the propaganda machine now. He couldn’t take it any longer. Today would be the day he confronts them. There would be no passivity any longer. Later, while they huddle around the television, they would finally understand his message.     There they sat; grandfather, mother, father, Malcolm’s older sister. Together they watched that nights ball game, the same one that was airing in millions of homes across the nation. Malcolm was done with the monotony; this willful adherence to meaningless action, the pointless variables. A ball is thrown, a ball is caught, or it is not. The coast is sinking, the port cities are no more, there is not a thing being done, but o, how beautiful that throw was! Enough nonsense. This is not what we are alive for.    Malcolm strode in front of the entertainment system. As much as he enjoyed his virtual reality games, being able to put on the head-set and transport to the front row of an opera or a play, he knew it was a double edged sword. Entertainment was one of the primary tools of distraction. As Malcolm stood, his family sat silently with their television dinners of factory pork with corn chunks; food processed and modified to not spoil for years. Finally, his mother spoke.    "What’s the matter Malcolm?“    "I can’t stand this any longer.” he replied.    ’‘I’m sick of watching all of you pacify yourselves with this pointless nonsense. You sit around and keep yourselves busy with meaningless garbage! With everything going on out there! We just pretend like it’s not happening! It seems like they’re not even trying to hide it from us anymore!“    Malcolms family looked around at eachother nervously. He continued.    "It’s right in front of our faces every day! The war is only for money! They’ve damaged this world beyond repair! The cracking down on us with these absurd laws, they’re looking to eradicate all of our rights one after the other! For christ sake, we know they actively spy on us!”   Malcolms families faces began to shift from concern to fear.    "We have to make a change to all of this! There’s a better way for us! For everybody! There’s a better way than to simply carry on like this!“    "Malcolm! That’s enough!” his father shouted.   His mothers lips were quivering. This emotional reaction and looks of fear were unexpected, but none the less, he carried on.    "We’re being governed by monsters! They will eventually take everything from us! Our subservience is only rewarded temporarily!“   "Malcolm! Shut up!” screamed his older sister.    His grandfather was also shouting with fearful eyes. He was pleading with Malcolm to stop, yet he continued.    "You must see! How can you be so blind to it all! How can you be so ….    …. There were four deafening knocks on the front door, louder than any noise Malcolm had heard in his young life. His family now stared at him silently in pure terror. For the first time, Malcolm realized that they were aware of far more than him.

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An Innocent Man

   Charlie had enough of it already. He had realized that the choices he hadn’t made lead him to this very place. He had been pushed around, and had accepted a life of servitude. His friends would often tease him in a cruel manner. He’d often be the one they took out their anger on when they got too drunk, or too spun. His wife who once upon a time was kind to him would now constantly belittle him. He had found out three months ago that she was cheating on him with his friend Richie.    When Charlie would sit four hours a day round-trip in traffic, other drivers would scowl at him. Often they’d throw their hands up, curse him, whatever. At work, Charlie felt like a boat on an ocean. The oceans temperament being that of his bosses temperament. When the boss felt good, he was nice to Charlie. When the boss felt bad, he was mean to Charlie.Those days were hell for him. He often dreamed of quitting, but knew he couldn’t afford to.     Charlie had a few legal problems, one was a fine that he got for drunk driving. The irony is that Charlie doesn’t really care for drinking too much, mostly does it because his friends do; that night his friends insisted on him driving since he’d only had two drinks. He was then pulled over and thrown in jail. People often said they liked him for going with the flow of things, easy going they’d call him. He never really had much of an opinion on anything, that is until now. Charlies opinion was that he hated everything about his miserable life. There was nothing about it he had any say in, nothing he had control over. He had been a doormat all his life, never once could he think of a thing he did just because he alone wanted to… But there was one time he could recall, however minuscule, he remembered one. Close by where he lived there was a small path that lead to a road that looked over the city above all the houses. To get there, one must pass a field where families would lounge and children would play soccer. He had felt awkward walking by the families and their children playing, but once he’d made it to the top of the path, the view was spectacular. It had made him feel far better than he would have imagined, something so very simple. When he’d come back home and told his wife about his walk, she’d said “You probably scared the moms, thinking you’re some fat child molester.”    Charlie didn’t walk that path again until now. He felt angry and fed up with the world, letting it do whatever it wanted with him. As he stood there overlooking the city, he felt defeat wash over him.

   During this time a police officer got a call about a suspicious looking man wandering through a neighborhood.    The officer arrived to the road on the hill where Charlie was overlooking the lights of the city. The officer approached him.     “Take your hands out of your pocket.” the officer ordered Charlie.    Charlie remained still, not acknowledging anyone.     “Take you’re fucking hands out of your pocket!” the officer ordered more firmly, yet still Charlie stood silently staring off into the distance.    Suddenly Charlie began walking off when the officer drew his gun. It was later when Charlie crossed onto a shadowed patch of a neighbors lawn that the officer shot him three times, one bullet piercing his heart. Charlie died soon after.

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The Brothers & The Grandfather

   The two boys eyes gleamed in wonder at the old mans words. They were transfixed by the stories that their grandfather would tell, each as enchanting as the last. He was incredible at capturing the boys attention and fueling their imagination.    "Our grandfather is the greatest man in the world.“ thought the boys to themselves.     His stories were simply magical. The boys were quite young and impressionable at the age of eight. They were twins, and got along marvelously. Their grandfather could do no wrong in their innocent eyes. He told of a mystical dragon that lived in the forest near his cabin in the woods. He would often visit creatures and various characters; some good, some evil. The boys believed all that he would tell. When the boys would return home from visiting, they’d bring with them stories for all their classmates.    "That didn’t happen!” the other children would often say.    "That’s impossible!“    "No it’s not!” would respond the twins.    The brothers were frequently furious in their defense. They couldn’t stand that the other children didn’t believe the magic in their grandfathers stories that they knew themselves to all be true. The brothers believed the stories wholeheartedly. When they were away from their grandfather, they’d dream of what he had told them. The stories were so grand, they unconsciously shaped every part of the boys from the way they acted to what they believed reality to be. They’d often times find themselves asking what certain characters would do in their situation to help them with the trials of life. The stories unknowingly served as a guide for the brothers. When they felt scared, or sad, they felt the characters their grandfather portrayed protecting them, they knew that the dragon would always rescue them if they were in danger. They loved their grandfather and all of the beautiful creatures they knew to be real in the forest.    Many years later, the boys were now men, in their early thirties, they each had young families of their own. They both had arrived at the old town where their grandfather had lived. Their grandfather had passed away and they were there to pay their respects. They met at his home, the place they had so fondly visited as children.    Mark felt uneasy as his brother Tim sat in the living room beside him. Up until now, he had felt a delight to catch up hearing about how his brothers family has been doing. Now, he felt that he must address how he was feeling.    "Doesn’t it bother you that everything was a lie?“    Tim looked up from his cup.    "You’re right, grandfather did have some skeletons-”    "No, I don’t mean just that, well… That too of course, but everything in the man that I would have called good, it was all just a lie!“    Tim looked back down at his tea allowing his brother to continue.    "He must be the biggest fraud of all time, certainly the biggest fraud I’ve ever known. It makes me sick to my stomach the way we used to hold him in such high esteem! The highest of all really! To think that a disgusting man like that is who I learned from, where I took so much from! I know you’re the same! What does that make of us?”    Tim sat quitely peering out the window. Gently he replied.    "It makes us who we are.“    Agitated, with Tims reply, Mark responded "Surely this must change something for you.”    "It doesn’t change anything for me. I know grandfather had his… faults. I know faults is an understatement too.. I still love him for that goondess he was.“    Mark glared back at him in contempt.    "How could you feel that way? Goodness? All those made up stories that he lead us to believe? Even that! How cruel is it to mislead children into actually believing his nonsense! Looking back now, it actually makes sense. The mans whole life was a lie! A terrible lie!”    "It doesn’t matter.“ replied Tim.    "It doesn’t matter?”    "No.“     The brothers sat quietly, neither looking directly at the other. Tim continued.    "It doesn’t matter that the stories weren’t true, or that the man himself was so terribly flawed. It matters what we took from it. For that I am grateful.”    The two men later walked out to the back where they spent time as children. Standing together, they gazed into the forest.