The Clarity Zones - Chapter 9

                                                     The Playing Field In My Mind

                                                      Written by:  F. John Surells

            I have what I consider to be a mental playing field in my mind. And on that field only those subjects deemed to be of great importance are subjectively debated. And they’re debated there only during such periods of time which, for one reason or another, have been determined to be significant. Yet, how is the significance of time frames determined? It must be reckoned through personal decisions made just then, at those moments when one wished to ponder important subjects.

            But years ago I could only have dreamed about being where I am today. The digital era – that’s what leveled the just alluded to playing field. And today many mortals are saying and writing what they wish, no matter if certain groups and “cliques” exist. And frankly those groups and cliques can say and write what they wish as well; but no one has to bow down to them. And no one has to consider them special because they live in, or have friends in Manhattan, or because they may be part of a so-called “upper level literary echelon.”

And, in that vein, I can remember when, in the past, those supposedly “in the know” used to tell the rest of us that titles and appearances (and appearances in this context means the ways people and things looked, rather than “visits to,” or “stops in” made by certain individuals for various reasons) weren’t all that important. But now, in the present, I’ve been reading about how imperative it  is that everyone properly titles all he or she may have recently created. And the rationale for that assertion is that today apparently modern mortals sometimes react tremendously to all they read and see. Well, I don’t know if I agree with that premise.

            Yet, I do know that I never wished to be disrespectful in regard to artistic advancement. And I’ve always known that many people know much more about it than I. Still, I know this universal truth:  Time keeps passing by. And that’s such a frightening realization – sometimes. And, at all times we know that we ourselves, as well as all our actions, whether artistic or not, are continually  growing older. But yet, who can dispute that in regard to most forms of art (but perhaps especially literature), certain groups of like-minded individuals have tried to hold on to figurative fiefdoms, or special ways and means? And isn’t it also true that when they’ve sought to hold on to those “pieces of yesterday,” or artifacts of life as it was, they’ve often found zones of non–clarity?

            And, sure, confused thinking can stem from numerous phenomena. It doesn’t always involve one’s attitude toward time. Still, probably the greatest of all “determiners” concerning human conduct revolves around how one believes he or she is viewed by others today, and how he or she has been viewed by others in the past. And in that regard, F. John Surells has never had a problem admitting that he’s somewhat of an egotist. Yet, nevertheless, he needs to breathe the same air as all mortals! And he’s only human! And he’s learned that despite all that’s said concerning any and all subjects, most mortals do tend to feature good rather than evil during their earthly existences.

            But Ralph Hawk is the leader of the group of people amongst whom I’m living at this time. And for some reason he made the decision that I should write the last (or near to the last ) chapter of this book. And I can’t really tell you why that was his wish. Sometimes he informs us of the reason or reasons why he wishes certain courses of action to be followed, but sometimes he doesn’t. Yet, in this particular case, I think he made the decisions to have this book written, and written as it was, after he learned of Jim’s infatuation with Pam, and then of his (Jim’s) subsequent “courting” of Marsha. But then Ralph also said that this literary effort should relate more than only the story of Jim, Marsha, and Pam. He said it should be written in such a way as would render it an aid to all mortals seeking improvement in their lives, or, indeed, all mortals seeking an entirely “new way to live.”

            And as I’m sure you can imagine, it’s not easy for someone who’s appeared only briefly in this book, to now bring this book to a successful finish. And I stated that previous sentence not out of any desire for pity. Indeed, pity won’t help me complete this task. I’ll need perseverance instead. And some readers and editors no doubt will be angered (or already have been angered) by what they’ll read (or already have read) in this chapter. And perhaps more troubling than what will actually be written here, will be the undoubtedly chaotic fashion in which it will be written. But with that said, I’m ready to journey onward now with words which are admittedly in my mind at this time, but which have taken no formulation there.

Yes, I’m afraid this chapter will have a number of disorganized things to say; but first of all let me tell you that Jim and Marsha say “Hi.” And they want you to know that they’re doing fine, and all is well with them. And for everything to be well at home, and for everyone in that home to be relatively happy, that’s such an important aspect in all our lives – isn’t it?

And it doesn’t take much in the way of news reporting to send us into states of concern, and sometimes even paranoia. But one troubling phenomenon of the last few years has been the postulation that the earth is warming. And that theory seems to be affecting our way of life now more than any other. And for me personally, sometimes I find it really difficult to “sign on” to the fact that there may be a gradual warming. I see little of it in my life. And, indeed, today I’m feeling far from warm and contented. It’s a dreary day outside. And just now it’s a bleak and overcast part of that dreary day. And I feel desolate here. And I’m broken-hearted as well.

            And God, this is such a cold room! And by that I mean it’s cold in my perception of where my life is “at” currently. It’s not actually physically cold here – well, not much at least! But it’s summer! And it should be a nice day, but it’s not. And my emotions are troubled as I gaze out upon this day through the large window in the living room of my apartment. And I’m distraught today. I’m missing my girlfriend Renni.

            And Renni has been gone for some time now. And my friend Rashon Leyf is missing his lover Amber Rolon as well. So, I guess the two of them must have just “taken off” somewhere – but they didn’t tell us why or where. And, we’ve not heard from them since they’ve gone.

            And our artistic enclave’s designated leader, Ralph Hawk, sent one of our younger friends, Charles Platt, to Paris to search for Renni and Amber. He (Ralph) said he thought they might have gone there. But Charles didn’t find them there. Instead he found a lover for himself. And now they’re apparently parted as well. Charles has returned home, and she (Valerie) has stayed in France.

            So, anyway, just now my main focus is the outdoors of course. But now, I’ve also just noticed that the window sill looks empty and barren. And I can see that something really should be there – on that sill. Yet, I’ve read recently that some people have tried to decorate window “platforms” with flowers. Still, real flowers wilt away with time. And artificial flowers are said to be somewhat staid and wax-covered. And, at least in the opinion of one writer whose words of wisdom I read recently, the presence of manmade flowers seems always rather fixed and superficial. Yet, such flowers have a non-intrusive bearing upon the room in which they stand. And, yes, they just stand there on the window sill. And though theirs is usually a quiet and stately pose, they have no words of encouragement or consolation for such humans as may need to be encouraged or consoled. But then, isn’t that the case with all objects which in a sense can be said to be both real and unreal simultaneously?

And now I’m imagining that I’m looking at some of those just described flowers. But I’m missing Renni. And I’m remembering I’m supposed to tell you some things about Jim and Marsha. Yet, before I speak of them, let me remind you that although this book was mostly about those two lovers, it was also about the search for the ability to think clearly. And, it sought “order” in a world filled with irrational concepts and disorder. And frankly, a number of matters needed to be disclosed in these pages. Well, that was the opinion of Ralph Hawk at least.

            And again, as I said, I’m looking through the large window in the living room of my apartment. And here, from the near north side, I can see across the river. And I can see out into the south side of the city. And if I use binoculars, I can see farther south still.

            I wasn’t born in this city, or in any of its surroundings areas. I moved here from quite far away. But it didn’t take long for me to learn all the various “deviances from so-called normalcy” which exist here.

            And here, on this northern side of the river, there is, in general, a belief that mankind can make life better on planet Earth through self-responsibility. But there’s knowledge here also that some of God’s children need the help of others of those children. And yet, there’s also a dedication to the premise that everyone must strive for improvement across all phases of life. And, for me at least, that’s such a comfort as day by day I tread along earthly pathways. And I always remember Joseph Same’s words from “The Same Tapes”:  Don’t tell me that any mortal would be alive today if he or she didn’t have something constructive to offer mankind.”

            But, on the south side of the river, I don’t know that such positive outlooks exist. There, amidst what let’s term (and I’m painting with a wide brush here, some south siders are not like this at all) “ambition for only the bare necessities,” many people live in semi-poverty. And I’ve formulated some theories about those people. I’ve learned that I must neither pity nor detest them. Rather, my responsibility in regard to them lies in my “calling” to help assure that all of them have a chance to live as well as they can, or if possible, as well as they wish. And, in my mind I have an obligation to all humanity. But in that last sentence the word “all” means nothing more or less than simply “all.” Oh, and yes, I must care about all of mankind – male or female, old or young, rich or poor, and, of course, regardless of ethnicity. And that caring is then manifested as my dedication to what I consider to be the God-given rights and freedoms possessed by all mortals.

            And, if ever in this city any animosity existed between those who lived on either side of the river, it became my responsibility, as well as my obligation to all residents here, no matter the length of time they may have been here, to strive to the best of my ability to stymie such ill-will, and negate any effects it may have engendered in this city over the years. And for whenever I committed any action which tended to either make life better, or at least keep it from becoming worse, that’s when I found the keys that unlock those doors of clarity about which Jim spoke earlier in this book. And sure, I know a lonely hallway exists wherein all we’ve done in failure, and all we’ve left undone which should have been done, as well as the many admonishments, warnings, threats, and reprimands we’ve received over the years, all come back to haunt us.

            But there’s God’s gift of companionship also. And that’s what Jim and Marsha have found. And they wanted me to tell you that they’re living together in Jim’s apartment now. He didn’t want to get married at this time, although I think Marsha would have consented to “tying the knot” already. Still, divergent points of view concerning marriage exist today – as you surely must know! So, I’ll leave you to your own judgments regarding Jim and Marsha’s current lifestyle and apparent future plans.

            And, I’m certain one substantial reason Jim doesn’t want to live with Marsha in her apartment, is because Marsha’s is located in the so-called “artistic area” of the city. And frankly, Jim probably doesn’t need or want to be surrounded by artistic types at this point in his life. So, he’s taken the love of his life to live with him where he’s always lived – on the south side. Yet, he claims he’s never been what those who like stereotypes consider most south-siders to be. And now that both he and Marsha live there, hopefully they’ll be able to, if nothing else, at least project a positive aura in that area of the city. And if indeed the south side still does need some change in regard to lifestyle and outlooks, then it can only find it in the way Jim and Marsha will provide it – one household at a time.

            And although I don’t consider myself a great thinker, I realize that all subjects, no matter whether they concern actual occurrences or mental postulations, tend to emulate toward “the philosophical” eventually. And sometimes struggles, whether verbal only, or in extreme cases even physical, may ensue when various individuals cannot reach at least some modicum of agreement regarding the matter (or matters) at hand. But here’s where I wish to deviate from what I consider to be the way in which disputes are usually viewed by most mortals. I want always to “extricate” all “nuggets of worth” from all provocations. In other words, I want to extract all I might possibly learn from all disagreements, as well as all which may evolve from such disputes. And, though this may not seem to be the proper thing to say just now, it appears to me as though some people are constantly trying to make life better upon planet Earth, while others (and no doubt in the vast majority of cases unconsciously), are continually committing actions which tend to worsen mankind’s existence.

            And maybe one needs to be somewhat of an egotist to state what I just did in the last paragraph; if so, that doesn’t bother me. I know that many different classifications of humanity exist. And I also know that many ways in which humans can be classified exist. And frankly, I try not to think about such things often. Yet, there is one juxtaposition concerning human beings which does sometimes intrigue me. And it centers around that vast majority of mortals who can admit that people and situations do change with time’s passage, and that other small group which apparently can’t. Yet, rather than expand much more upon that troublesome phenomenon, I’ll simply relate a “conversation” it recently generated in my mind. The member of “the status-quo,” or he who is seeking continual sameness speaks first:  “My soul is your heart. And I can’t always know at every moment what may have been known at other moments. And therefore I can’t recreate the thoughts and reasons which may have led to certain words having been spoken, and certain actions having been taken. But I know this:  All I’ve already known is all you are today, and all you’ll ever become. And when will you learn that you must live for non-advancement? Don’t you know your fellow humans expect no less (or more) from you? You’d better ask the Lord that you never need to be an avenger!”

            And the so-called “common man” answered, “Well, you know, we have a free republic here – I hope. And thus, those of you who express incorrect, foolish, or even seriously dangerous points of view are granted your chance to communicate them. And perhaps sometimes even I, though I’m certainly not a “status-quo” type, am also viewed as a purveyor of rather troubling tenets. And if that’s the case, then the allusions to the right of free speech which appeared in the previous sentences, apply in this one as well. But whatever anyone may think of me, I hope they don’t expect me to cling to continual sameness.”

            “And here are some words to strike a blow against all such types as want all their todays to be as all their yesterdays have been, and as they hope all their tomorrows will be. For whenever a figment of non-conformance entered one’s mind, then perhaps that one had a chance at that moment to install a missing piece into the on-going puzzle of human existence upon planet Earth. And for whenever someone took a chance to step away from normalcy, then that one had an opportunity to achieve the unexpected – but then, he or she also faced the possibility of failure, and the reality of ridicule or potential condemnation by his or her peers. Yet, didn’t another possibility exist as well? Isn’t it true that sometimes those who failed to follow societal conventions became great liberators, or at least helpers of mankind?” And thus ended that conversation in my mind.

But, you know, F. John Surells takes such discussions seriously. And he wonders who can deny that it seems to be becoming increasingly difficult to be “someone.” Still, he realizes that probably that doesn’t concern most mortals. Yet, look at all those people! They’re moving so quickly! And on one hand we’re told about current (and future) environmental problems. But on the other hand all those people need to eat. And yes, you’d better pray those prayers to counteract at least the following dilemmas of mankind:  global warming, pollution, starvation, terrorism, and war; and any others you may wish to add.

            And may the Lord of the Universe keep us free from any type of cruel death! And may He keep any “necessary or unnecessary combat” against the evils just mentioned far from our door! But why have some people starved, or died as soldiers? Those are the questions you’ll need to ponder and answer on your own today.

            And, I suppose some will say writers should provide the answers to such questions. And aren’t writers, after all, responsible for providing solutions to societal and sociological dilemmas? Well, it looks to me as though the answer to the question posed in the last sentence is twofold:  First, writers themselves may not often know what the proper responses to serious problems are; and second, writers do always need to document the phenomenon of passing time. And the fact that such passage of time often capture’s one’s comprehension, and holds it then for varying lengths of that same time, shows, I believe, how all of life continually changes.

            And in closing, I’d like to say that it’s been a challenge to write the final chapter of this book. And I know that the people who dominated its earlier chapters were hardly mentioned in this, its last installment. Nevertheless, they want me to tell you that they’re doing well. And they said they’ll pray for you. And they asked if you’d do the same for them.

                                                                                                            The End

P.S.:  I want you to know that what you’re reading in this postscript will not appear in any possible published rendition of “The Clarity Zones.” But while I still have the podium here, so to speak, I must tell you something that Ralph Hawk has asked me to pass along. For a long time now future internet postings by our group will only occur once a month, unless someone has something “special” to say, or someone has written some fairly good poetry which he or she wishes to share.

            Otherwise, the main postings will be monthly, and they’ll consist of the chapters of an unpublished book which Ralph, Rashon, and I completed some time ago. It’s entitled “The Students Of The Highway,” and all of its chapters can basically “stand apart” from each other. Therefore, I don’t think anyone will suffer from not knowing the next “plot twist” in a timely fashion. And I know that it may seem cruel for us to trim the postings down to a monthly basis, yet, we’re just so busy here in the city! And I think that when you do “receive” a chapter from “The Students” book, you’ll agree it was well written, and worth the wait. God bless you. F.J.S.