This is definitely a good one…
Yep, I have to admit it I’m in love with Harry Potter. Many moons ago JK Rowling introduced us to Harry. For many others, and me, her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Life was stagnant, boring and a refreshing approach to fantasy was in need. Ms. Rowling delivered. Although Harry and friends was geared to a YA audience, adults became enamored too. A world of silliness, magic and characters that jumped off the page sat beside me night after night whispering in my ear. Come on read another page and I did and continued to do so repeatedly. Years later, I find myself fingering the covers and hearing that little voice…come on now one more read. Who am I to argue?
Finding your place inside a single glass of water
So, I was getting a glass of water last night before I went to bed. Nice glass of water with a few ice cubes. And I looked at those ice cubes and I thought about the life span of those ice cubes. You see, those ice cubes came out of my fridge, which took hours of churning and spinning or whatever the hell it does to spit out ice cubes in my glass on command. And that’s exactly what it did, giving me this nice glass of ice water.
And as I brought that glass up to my mouth, I realized that the life span of those ice cubes traces back a lot longer. Because those ice cubes were made of water pumped from miles – hundreds of miles – away. Since I live in Southern California, I could even say thousands of miles away. A rain cloud smiles on a flower somewhere in Yakima or Boise and through the magic of semi-modern engineering I’ve got ice cubes.
And not a second passed before I understood that I had no idea of scope here. And I just gave up on the ice water. Those ice cubes had come from water that went far beyond Yakima or Boise or wherever it fell as a raindrop. Because that raindrop had been collected on the other side of the world, and those water molecules predate even semi-modern engineering. They predate all of our cities. They predate anyone we’ve ever read about and anything anyone has seen. They were old when the first creature walked and that very same water was imbibed then, too.
And it passed through their bodies and it evaporated and it froze and it eroded and it shimmered and it cleaned ecosystems and it hit umbrellas and maybe just things that looked like umbrellas until it fell on that flower and took a ride to my ice maker.
Now, this is where my mind took a turn. Because once you follow that water up from the primordial goo, you also have to take it far past you. And me. That ice is going to shoot through me at a rate that would make it dizzy, if such a thing were possible. I’ll eject it in the standard way – please let our standards be equal here – and it’ll sail off to some new horizon, some distant shore, some foreign tap.
And it will outlast you and you and you. It will be around long after all of your children turn into little, old people. It will pass through no type of creature you’ve ever heard of and that will be right here on Earth. It will bathe the flesh of people we probably wouldn’t recognize who worship dieties of one type or another you’ve never heard of before, who use currency more valuable than anything you have, own technology so much better than yours it’d make you sick.
Everything will pass before and behind and beneath and all around that water until it has passed as well. And through this glass of water, we are given an incredible gift. A way to not only observe our world but to taste our world, to be a part of our world, to see our place in our world, and to partake in the miracle that is our world.
What more do you need?
Time for an Aha moment.
I am probably going over old ground. This post isn’t for my writer friends, but I think they will approve. It is difficult to hear readers complaining about the price of books, especially when they are from indie authors. I thought I might take a minute, or two to set the record straight what all writers go through.
Let me step back a minute. I assume everyone works, or does something to generate an income to pay the bills. You know food on the table, rent, mortgage, electricity, car payments, insurance, and all those little necessities. You get compensated for putting your time in somewhere doing a job. Now writers not only have to cover the same bases, but they spend endless hours(no overtime pay here) gathering their thoughts and putting them to paper, or computer. After, say months, or possibly a year that work is finished. Now it is ready for editing. For all you folks not in this field, let me assure you it is one of our biggest expenses. The book cover design, graphics, and typography is another big expense. Sure, you can do it on the cheap, but then that is exactly what it looks like, an unprofessional job.
Some authors advertise, have posters and banners made to shout out a new release. Oh, don’t forget all those little freebies you get from a book tour. So it is pretty simple, we have the same bills to pay on the home front as anyone else, we aren’t compensated for endless hours of writing to hopefully bring a reader enjoyment. We pull rabbits out of hats to pay our editors, and graphic designers, and that snazzy little bookmark, or iPhone cover, is not free, at least not for us.
What I am asking you, the reader, is when you see a e-book for $2.99-7.99, don’t moan and groan. We will never recoup our investment to bring you to new worlds and adventures, unless we get very lucky. The Rowlings, Hockings, yada yada are few and far between, and kudos to them. The rest of us will keep at it not only for our pleasure, but yours.
The last thing that I humbly request is when you download a book for free, actually take the time to read it. Maybe rate it for the author, and if you feel very generous, a review. We do this for you, and with a little attention back, maybe our dreams can come true.
“Go the limits of your longing . . . Flare up like flame and make big shadows that I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
“Love asks us that we be a little braver than is comfortable, a little more generous, a little more flexible. It means living on the edge more than we care to.” Norman Mailer