Enigma Of The Soul
Posted on July 31, 2012  by  billyraychitwood1

How often do you use the word, ‘Soul?’ How often do you think about your ‘Soul?’

Mirriam-Webster defines ‘Soul’ as:

1. the immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life

2. a: the spiritual principle embodied in human beings, all rational and spiritual beings, or the universe

So, that’s enough, right? The two definitions pretty much say it all, and there are more definitions there in the dictionary if you want more. 'Soul’ seems to me, though, such a huge word to be so small. Writers likely get the most use out of the word than the people who really work for a living — no anger, please, just adding a little levity here. Really, it seems to me that ‘Soul’ is not in too many mundane conversations. ‘Soul’ is usually saved for the philosophers, poets, preachers, Romantics,
sentimentalists, and writers.

You can almost envision the literary expatriates who gathered in Paris between the period of World War One and the onset of World War Two…wtiters like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemmingway, Sherwood Anderson, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, John Dos Passos, Samuel Beckett, Henry Miller, Anais Nin, Lawrence Durrell, Gertrude Stein to name a few — okay, okay, I’m name-dropping — but these were the people I read and studied in college and their lives got somehow interwoven with my own, with my ‘Soul.’ I can see them sitting at the sidewalk cafes talking in the afternoon about their writings, about how the devastation of war had impacted their lives. I can see them drinking the Bacchus liquids and debauching in the evenings, pausing in their fun and frivolity for serious and sober moments to discuss the condition of the ‘Soul.’ These were the people
Gertrude Stein referred to as ‘the lost generation.’ Certainly, why not Paris? Why not gather in the great city of lights that possessed so much art and beauty? It was the place to be if you were disillusioned by a world intent on war and destruction. It was the perfect place and time to discuss matters of the ‘Soul,’ and these great writers held those discussions in the finest style and with some of the most celebrated erudition prevalent in those days.

So, why do I post about ‘Soul?’

Guess it’s easy for me, an oldtimer looking back on his life, how he’s lived, somewhat of an anachronism in today’s fast moving digital world. ‘Soul’ is such an all-encompassing word. It holds such a fascination for me in these sunset years, but it has always held that fascination for me — guess ‘Soul’ for me is what writing is all about. We live, we pay taxes, and we die, but the ‘Soul’ offers us so many delectable scenarios of which to consider and ponder.

‘Soul’ is that defining part of us that we can’t pinpoint, can’t know exactly where it is, but we have to know that it is there. ‘Soul’ is everything Mirriam-Webster says it is, but so very much more. There are times when the directions we take as a world concerns me greatly. It is my hope that we can still take time, Paris or not, to discuss the implications of such an enigmatic
and beautiful word.

‘Soul.’

I’m currently working on a new book and stopped long enough to check in with twitter…Twitter had the audacity to be ‘down.’ Like, down for over an hour — and, still down! How dare that inconvenience!

Serves a point in our lives today, does it not? We live in a digital world in which some folks thrive and know everything there is to know about the internet, while others of us just sort of get along. We are so accustomed now to running our lives with laptops, URL’s, RSS Feeds, Streams, et al. When we share bandwidth with others in our community and someone is streaming movies, kids are active on their game boards, and parents are doing their digital thing, the electronic gadgets can slow down dramatically. Then, we get irritable, yell at the wife, kids, friends, and curse all those mysterious non-faces who are eating up all our bandwidth.

Time for the generational questions! What have we become? Where are we going in this mad digital world? An old anachronistic simpleton like me gets lost in this world at times and spends a lot of valuable time trying to figure it all out…at least, the time is valuable when one is my age. So we hoot and holler until the electronic gadgetry comes back to a sane and sensible environment for work, like twitter tweeting and facebook messaging and goodreads solicitations and book recommendations, etc. Then, at the end of the day when I turn off my computer, sip on my one and only tequila on the rocks, and look out at the Sea of Cortez, I see the folly of it all...well, I sort of see the folly of it all. That big old sea can calm me down like nothing else --- with just a little help from that tequila sipping. 

Whatever the generation, we must live in it, accept its technological advances, and move on with our lives. Then, the succeeding generations can claim us ‘nuts’ for leaving them with such a mess to clean up.

Does any of this sound familiar? Is it just part of a bigger picture? Am I just singing to the choir? Of course, I am, and in pretty good voice, I’d say. 

For now, though, how dare that inconvenience!

A titillated audience sits and watches the beginning scenes of a media-hyped movie when a dark camoflaged figure appears at a theater exit door and begins a live gun-shooting scene of horror that will leave twelve people dead and sixty-plus others wounded and fighting for life. In those milliseconds one warped mind has changed the direction and shapes of so many lives and families. Those with close connections to the victims and those of us around the world can only sit in astonished apathy and ponder the cruelty of fate. We sit helpless and hopeless and we know that there is absolutely nothing we can do about this mindless atrocity.

We know that occasionally life presents us with these kinds of perverted acts of violence...they have come since the dawn of time. No amount of pondering can give us answers that will remotely satisfy our minds. A young and promising mind has tripped over itself to produce a monster who will now join the arcade of other historical monsters of terror. What else can we say or do but to explore so many psychological avenues of the mind? What else can we do but watch the media frenzy and listen over and over to the gruesome details of the slaughter? Then, somewhere in time, we will for the most part forget this monster of the movie house, like we have for the most part forgotten the Columbine school tragedy, the Gabriel Giffords shooting and masacre of innocents in Tucson, the Richard Speck monster in Chicago who brutalized and murdered eight student nurses, the University of Texas sniper, the Oklahoma bomber Timothy McVeigh, on and on the list can go.

What else can we do but store away in our subconscious this terrible act along with all the other horrible acts in our history?There is nothing else we can do because to dwell too long on the mad meaningless acts of man can only dislodge some important part of our own humanity.

In the end, we are left to feel the sorrow of families who have lost their loved ones. We are left with the humble hope that those families will be able to continue their lives with the knowledge that tragedy's reason lies beyond the scope of humankind.

The day is starting with patches of blue in a cloudy sky. Soon the clouds will be gone and a full canopy of soft blue will replace them. There will be ski jets on the deep green sea along with banana boats, motor boats, multi-colored sails. Hawkers of serapes, jewelry, and other trinkets will be strolling the long beach through throngs of people under palapas or umbrellas, walking along water's edge, or sunbathing. The pools of the many resorts along the beach will be busy with laughing children, and condo/villa homeowners will be walking their dogs and getting their daily exercise.

One thing that is near constant at this lovely latitude is that the sun is constant like the sea. There is humidity, not as bad as farther south toward the more tropical Matzatlan and Puerto Vallarta, but there is also a prevailing breeze that keeps the palms swaying and the conditions pleasant. The views are spectacular: the old port juts out into the sea, adding more to the curving shoreline; the new Malecon at the old port has restaurants and shops along its palmed walkways and its rocky section of coastline.

Rocky Point is coming of age. Tourism is much bigger this year. Viper Jet, an aerospace company (AeroMxII) is hiring hundreds of people for their 'flight simulation' and 'global positioning systems' (GPS) projects. It means growth for our sleepy fishing village, and it likely means that our international airport will begin sooner than later to add regular US flights...now, there are only charters. Looming in the near future is a home cruise port which will, when completed, add exponentially to Rocky Point's growth. With Rocky Point's proximity to Arizona (one hour's drive to the border) and the US, it is time.

There will be some who will cling to the media hype that Mexico is not safe. For me, this town has been part of my history as I've been coming here since the seventies. It is safe, and the people are friendly, supportive, and welcome us to their desert/sea paradise. People with common sense will already know that our US cities have pockets of drugs and crime where most of us would not venture. Bad things happen everywhere, of course, but when using common sense, we can usually avoid problems. In point of fact, safety is never a concern for me here in Rocky Point.

Why do I write this post? Because I love this old port city of Rocky Point. There is a large contingent of ex-pats who live here full-time who will tell you the same thing. They love it here and they tire of the negative media blitzes that are directed toward this beautiful area.

The other reason I write this post is, for the most part I live and write here along this lovely coastline of the Sea of Cortez. It is here where my creative impulses are most active. It is here where I've been inspired to write some books. I'm still inspired and I'm still writing. The United States and Mexico are friends for the long term, and, in many ways, there is some catching up for Mexico to get up to speed with some of our technological advances. They are getting there, faster than many might realize.

If you have a nostalgic and romantic sense of old Mexico as I've always had, come on down. You won't be 'wasting away in Margaritaville' unless that's your desire.

My wife, Julie Anne Chitwood, has written a cute little book she titles, "Animal Crackers In My Bed." There is nothing more important and sacred to Julie Anne than children, animals, and family. See if you can guess that from this delightful excerpt from her book which deals with the 'Young Glory' chapter of her book.

Young Glory, as aforementioned, was born on Flag Day at about 5:30 in the morning. We had irrigated the night before so the ground was wet and muddy. Therefore she ended up being born in a mud puddle. The whole clan gathered to watch, as we had done when Pumpkin gave birth, and it didn't appear to bother Dolly anymore then it had bothered Pumpkin. In fact both mares had seemed to enjoy the attention, and, as soon as both foals had been pushed to their feet they were shown off to the watching audience of people, horses, dogs, cat, rooster and sheep. I guess they just wanted to introduce them to the "family."

I instantly fell in love with Glory. She was a beautiful little bay mare. I trained her to respond to body language and would eventually ride her without a bridle. Once, however, this became a problem. Debbie wanted to ride her when I wasn't there and Dad put her up on Glory in the pasture. Debbie leaned forward. This meant "go." Glory went. Debbie leaned forward even more. This meant "race like the wind," and Glory 'raced' with Debbie hanging on like a frightened flea. Fortunately I showed up and called Glory to me before Debbie could fall off...

Of course I'm biased but Julie has a warm and inviting style of writing. It is prosaic and conveys quite naturally her feelings of the important ingredients of her life. There is nothing neo-stylistic about her writing. She goes directly to the heart, her emotions pure and non-pretentious.

Me, I might write something like: "...There on the sub-conscious fringe of some eternal truth my mind pondered the mystery of the universe, its ultimate relativity to me and my God..." 

My words are styled differently, perhaps because of my pure love of words. Yes, I want there to be meaning to my writing but I wish to create an atmosphere with my words that can titillate the reader from a different perspective.

Two styles that say what the authors wish to say, both hopefully appealing from many points of view.

How do you describe your writing style?


 

The 'Thrill' in writing makes the soul soar, that moment you write the perfect set of words to describe a character, a scene, a dlimax. Each of us knows that experience, has felt that incredible euphoria that comes and lives with us for a time. Sometimes, that 'Thrill' sustains itself and carries us on into the next writing session, and the next... It is moving us along so well that we might not quite know just when to stop, when to put the final period on the final paragraph. We're on a roll and we will stay with it, and, if we've gone a bit too far, rambled a bit too long, we can always fix it in the edit and rewrite. It would be nice if the 'Thrill' would come with every writing session, but we know old 'Mr. Murphy' lives in our world, that he's got to come along now and then and put the 'pox' on us.

Yeah, the 'Choke,' that's what I'm talking about, the dreaded writing 'Choke.' We sit at the laptop, pretty much knowing where it is we want to go, but the brain won't kick in and allow us the unimpeded flow of word wizardry, those 'Thrill' phrases that we know should contribule to making us great authors. We sit and we become frantically frustrated, even peck out some drivel we know is not what we want to say, but do it anyway, hoping it will start that magical flow that will bring back that 'Thrill.'

What do you do when the 'Choke' comes? Like me, do you keep hitting the 'Backspace' button to erase the silly stuff just written? Like me, do you finally capitulate to the demon presence, get up and go for a walk? Me, I've got the beach and the Sea of Cortez and the constant sun --- not a bad fallback position --- so a walk, breathing in some fresh sea air can get my brain re-engaged and ready for some more 'Thrills.' And, alas, maybe the walk doesn't do it for me, and I just walk away for the day, but with the knowledge that the 'Thrill' isn't gone for good...it will be back.

What do you do when the 'Choke' comes?

Reality check!

There are obviously millions of us writer-types in the world, and some do commercially well. Guess we all want that success, that validation of what we do. The fact is some of us 'ain't' going to make a big splash in that commercial pond. So, do we stop writing when the months and years roll by and our books are modest give aways or are only modestly selling? Of course not.

We writers are pretty much the same, but here's the thing that rings my bell about writing --- yours, too, likely --- even without the commercial success (and, to repeat myself, would not mind having that), I'm tapping along on those laptop keys and in some 'stream of conscience thing,' suddenly, out comes a few phrases that say everything I can hope to say. A smile comes to my face as I re-read over and over what I've written. Sitting, with arms crossed, I'm just a bit stuck on myself --- "Hey, that's pretty good!" I say a little too loudly. "Where did all that come from? (or, for purists, from where did all that come?)"

I'm just saying, It's a marvelous thing! It's a Thrill! So, commercially or no, I get those 'Thrills' many times during a writing session. Maybe someone else would not think so highly of those 'Thrill' phrases, that's okay. They're mine, and they're enough...

That's enough for an opening post. Just kind of wondered what you other writer-types think? Does it happen to you, the way it happens for me? If not, what are your 'Thrills' in writing? Leave off the commercial gig --- we all want that!

Thanks for commenting.

Billy Ray