30 Days to a Better Man, Day 20: perform service

Two-thirds done!

Another caveat: you don't actually have go to out and perform the service on this day (unless, of course, the opportunity presents itself). But you should take time to at least schedule some volunteer work.

A soup kitchen in the Warsaw ghetto during World War II.

I selected Itaewon Global Village Center. They have several different volunteer activities that they do. You can pass out food to the elderly or infirm, or do the same for the poor little waifs at an orphanage, among other things. I'm curious about helping the poor while I'm here, as poverty is a taboo subject in Korea (thanks to Confucianism). The homeless and destitute are generally swept under the rug. But for the amputees panhandling in the subway station or the wild-haired bums scrounging through garbage, a foreigner might believe that there aren't any poor people in this country. And I've been wanting to volunteer at a Korean orphanage ever since I saw this.

So! I sent IGVC an application form today. I'll let you know when I get a reply from them. This is the moment when taking on a challenge like this really starts to pay off. I've always been lax with volunteering. I didn't do it enough, and I'm fairly certain it knocked me out of the running for several jobs. It left a black stain on my conscience, too. I haven't volunteered since the last balloon launch with NKP. (I'm actually in that video, by the way, at 14:10; the guy with aviator shades and the fedora, obviously.)

Be that as it may, it's high time I did something to help the South Koreans. This country's been good to me. I need to pay them back.

Stay loose for Day 21.

from me to all the world

Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

--- W.H. Auden

...and a Happy New Year. 

an escalating situation

I've never written much about the Democratic People's Republic of Korea on this blog. This is the first time I've ever tagged a post with "North Korea," in fact. I'm reading Barbara Demick's book Nothing to Envy, which follows the lives of six North Korean citizens through the famine of the 1990s; I was probably going to scribble a bit about that at some point. But now that the rhetoric and posturing and threats are escalating, I feel like I should tell you what's on my mind. Just in case I get blown away in the next 48 hours.

As you may have heard, things are getting out of hand over here. The situation here is tenser than I've ever seen in my 26 months of living in South Korea. Kim Jong-un has torn up the armistice, effectively putting the Koreas back into a state of open warfare; disconnected the hotlines between the two nations; mobilized his military and beefed up artillery and infantry forces along the border; refused entry to South Korean workers at the jointly-run industrial complex inside the DMZ; and leveled a constant stream of invectives and hostilities against South Korea, the U.S.A. and their allies.

In its latest move, Pyongyang has gone so far as to threaten a nuclear strike against the United States. Stating that its military has been cleared to use "smaller, lighter, and more diversified" nuclear weapons, the rogue nation declared that war could break out "today or tomorrow."

Although Al Jazeera reports that Korea has threatened the U.S. specifically, by proxy those threats refer to South Korea as well. Expert analysts believe that, despite all the bluster, the D.P.R.K. does not have the capability to deliver a missile to an American territory in the Pacific, be it Guam or Hawaii. (The U.S. recently announced its intention to place a missile defense system on Guam, which might be what's got Pyongyang's panties in a twist.)

If that's true, then the only places that North Korea can hit are South Korea or Japan. Japan would be an unwise choice, as it's a key U.S. ally and bombing it would bring on the wrath of the sleeping giant. South Korea is no less an important friend of the United States, but as we've seen with the Cheonan disaster and the Yeonpyeong Island incident, South Korea's not shy about poking its neighbor with a big stick. The attack that North Korea has threatened may come "today or tomorrow" might be leveled at Seoul or somewhere close by.

I don't know about you, but this has got me rather worried. I'm not one to panic easily, but things are different now than they were when I lived in Korea before. This time I'm in Seoul, just in case you missed my last six posts. I'm at ground zero, so to speak. The front lines. I've read that an estimated one million missiles will fall upon this city if war ever breaks out. And it's not just me anymore, either: Miss H is here, and our black cat Charlie. Whatever befalls me befalls them as well, good or ill. That would wrack anybody's nerves. Mine are fraying a smidgen.

On the ground, the situation is calm. Everyone here is going about their lives as usual. Blah, blah, blah, we've seen it all before. And I have to admit, I'm pretty blasé about North Korea now, having lived on the peninsula for almost two and a half years without incident.

So why am I so worried? Well, a couple of reasons. First of all, North Korea usually doesn't close the jointly-run Gaeseong Industrial Region. It's a source of hard currency for the regime and closing it hampers its floundering economy. Even when Seoul and Pyongyang are trading rhetorical blows, the complex stays open. The fact that it's closed to South Koreans now is...disturbing, to say the least.

Second, while I've seen heated exchanges between the two nations before, this most recent one is quite a bit more vitriolic than usual. The barrage of threats from the North has lasted longer and been more vehement than any I've previously witnessed (well, since the death of Kim Jong-il, anyway).

And that brings me to my final point: there's been a recent regime change. Kim Jong-un is running the country now, and he may feel that he's got something to prove. His grandfather and his dad kept the United Nations and the U.S. on their toes for 60 years; now it's Kim the Third's turn. He may have a chip on his shoulder. Perhaps he's looking for ways to make his mark, and has decided that a smoking crater in the center of downtown Seoul is just the way to do it. He may even be foolish or naïve enough to assume that he'll get away with it.

So here I am—with my loved ones—at the epicenter of six decades of stewing resentment and barely-controlled aggression.

What's new with you lately?

foundation, inspiration

Cover art from Isaac Asimov's Foundation series. Hence the title.

Basically, the situation is this. Rather than sit around and watch video game walk-throughs on YouTube all day (damn you, Shadow of the Colossus), I decided to update this here blog. Since I have no worthwhile news to relate (well, I do, but that will come later), I'll bring you up to speed on some novel-ish things. This originates from my recent decision to whip my novel into working order and publish it for the Kindle™ before the year is out.

First, however, I'm making some changes to my manuscript. There's a major overhaul underway. (Yes, I paired those two words intentionally.) I'm incorporating elements of my second, third, fourth and fifth novels into the first one, to add more characters and spice up the plot. In addition to this, there are several minor changes I'm making, some of which have only occurred to me in the last few days.

I'd like to sit down with you and dissect every little change I'm making, and elicit an editorial, literary and thought-provoking critique from you. But that's not going to work. For starters, I'm paranoid about revealing any details about my baby on this Internet thingy. Some scurvy rotter might come along and steal my idea, and I'd have to commit suicide (after decorating my apartment with the miscreant's entrails). Second, you'd be bored to tears. This is a rather nonsensical, esoteric novel I'm working on: social commentary wrapped in epic adventure-filled action-packed speculative fiction, with a few metaphysical touches thrown in for good measure. It's kind of like a hot dog buried under layers of onion, tomatoes, sweet relish, cheese, chili, and all the other crap that Cthulhu knows should never be put on a hot dog.

Eldritch analogies aside, however, you wouldn't like hearing about what exactly I'm writing. It'd spoil the surprise, anyway. You can read it for yourselves when I publish this beast. What I'd like to talk to you about today, because it has special bearing on my writing (and rewriting), are the foundations for this work.

To put it bluntly, I'm mad as hell. And I'm not going to take it anymore.

I'm about to get political/pseudo-philosophical, so all of you intolerant or opinionated types (or just those who don't want their impressions of me ruined) should get the heck out of Dodge, right now.

The world is sick.

It's backed itself into a corner, run itself up a blind alley. And now it's got nothing to do, nowhere to go, and it's eating itself.

Like Cyrus says in The Warriors: "Now look what we have here before us." Look at the world today. Overpopulation. Cramped, smoky, grimy cities, soaked in sin and desperation. World trade, economies, businesses, the very definition of success—all built upon cramming people into stuffy cubicles in monstrous floodlit buildings, where they slave their lives away for peanuts, pushing papers and dozing through meetings.

It's a horrendous job, and somebody—a million somebodies—has to do it. I'm aware of that. I'm not castigating the white-collar worker. All of them, men and women alike, have my respect. They've built something amazing. Human civilization as we know it depends upon them.

No, my beef is with human civilization itself.

I'm not pleased with how it turned out. I don't like that our society depends on things like corporations, Wi-Fi networks, stocks, bonds, markets, trades, mergers, industry, commercialism, business, economy, commodities, digital technology, and all those other intangible things built on numbers and figures and data. I resent that Western civilization revolves around forcing its youngsters to educate themselves in the purgatory of public school and the political chop-shop of college, so they can graduate with a pile of debt and a host of half-formed ideas and forgotten facts, and thence obtain a soul-crushing, unfulfilling job in the private sector and work until they die.

I like things...simpler. Freer.

(I realize, as I sit here and rail against the modern age, that I am typing on my laptop computer and sitting in my ninth-floor apartment with Owl City playing in the background and an electric fan preventing me from succumbing to the sticky Korean heat. I am the world's biggest hypocrite; I admit it. I don't give a pair of dingo's kidneys. I am spreading the word, my fauxslophic ideas, with the only viable weapon at hand. Indulge me.)

I'll be the first to tell you that I was born in the wrong century. I often find myself wishing that I could have taken part in the great explorations of the past five centuries. Ah, those were the days. There wasn't a single piece of plastic anywhere in the world. Everything was made from romantic materials like wood, metal, and canvas. The map hadn't been completely filled in yet. Anything—literally anything—could happen. Anything was possible. The sky was the limit. No, there were no limits. Even the sky was up for grabs.

I want to tag along with the famous explorers—Marco Polo, Francisco de Orellana, David Livingstone, Sir Francis Drake, Lewis and Clarke...even the doomed ones like Captain Cook, Burke and Wills, Mungo Park, Robert Falcon Scott, and Roald Amundsen. Heaven only knows what these guys really saw, and what they felt as they did. It seems like there's no room for expeditions like theirs anymore. Today's intrepid souls (Sir Ranulph Fiennes, Mark Jenkins, and others) know what's waiting for them at the end of the trail. I long for the days of romance and mystery.

I guess I don't really hate human civilization as we know it. I just said that out of spite. I don't even hate technology. Technology saves lives, eases burdens, facilitates communication, bridges gaps, expands minds. And it lets Adam Young make music. I dislike the mindset behind technology on occasion. Progress for progress's sake, and whatnot. And I wish e-readers wouldn't replace my trusty paperbacks. That's all.

But most of all, I wish the world wasn't so small. My most cherished dreams are those in which the world has become vast, unexplored, and dangerous once again, and it's up to me and a few other intrepid souls to plumb its mysteries.

So that's what my book's about. The decks have been cleared. Human civilization as we know it is kaputt. Earth's surface has been rearranged, altered unrecognizably. It's awash in eldritch abominations, mysterious monuments, savage beasts, colossal monsters, alien technology, sentient inhuman races, ferocious weather patterns, cosmic anomalies, laboratory experiments, fractured space-time, a hodgepodge of familiar cities and nations...and, of course, the terrified and scanty remnants of humanity. Into this mess are thrust my two protagonists, office drones from the Earth we know, refugees from the chaotic, hopeless, stifling present day. It's the end of the world as they know it, and they feel fine. They were actually sort of waiting for it to happen. So they jump at the call. Off they boldly go, throwing away their old lives and seeking their fortunes in this new and barbaric world. "Going for howling adventures over in the territory," as Mark Twain put it. Fighting, exploring, befriending, rescuing, and just generally being heroic and badass.

That's something I think every human being should have the chance to do.

But the world is sick, remember? First, we're poisoning the crystal waters of pure human existence with the drug of digital immersion, an ersatz life lived in the virtual world. (When was the last time you had a conversation where somebody didn't quote a movie, mention a video game, reference a website, or whip out a cell phone? I catch myself doing this distressingly often, and feel like running up to my apartment and hurling my computer and my smartphone out of the window.) But second, our worldview as a species seems to be shifting. This is particularly notable in the United States, but it manifested first in Europe and other notable civilized nations.

I'm speaking of the distressing trend of liberalism.

lib·er·al·ism [lib-er-uh-liz-uhm, lib-ruh-]

noun

1. the quality or state of being liberal, as in behavior or attitude.
2. a political or social philosophy advocating the freedom of the individual, parliamentary systems of government, nonviolent modification of political, social, or economic institutions to assure unrestricted development in all spheres of human endeavor, and governmental guarantees of individual rights and civil liberties.
3. (sometimes initial capital letter) the principles and practices of a liberal party in politics.
4. a movement in modern Protestantism that emphasizes freedom from tradition and authority, the adjustment of religious beliefs to scientific conceptions, and the development of spiritual capacities.

I've already talked your ear off about the state of human civilization, so I'll be brief. I disagree wholeheartedly with the liberal mindset. As innocuous as it sounds on paper, liberalism is a destructive cancer, a pernicious gangrene corrupting the world. I define myself (categorize myself, Smithy) as a conservative atheist. This means I have the advantage of looking at the world through the practical, no-nonsense lens of your garden-variety conservative, yet I don't have the obfuscating religious hangups that fundamentalist Christians do. I have a clearer view than most anybody.

I have observed, by monitoring the major news networks (most of them) and the general trend of American politics, that the liberals are taking over. Conservatism is passé. It's discredited as a system of thought. People (liberals) believe that conservatives are barbaric, violent, hidebound, intolerant, insensitive, cruel, racist, corrupt, money-grubbing Neanderthals. We're an unpopular lot right now, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

The popular consensus seems to be that we are moving toward a state of world peace. A utopia. Everybody gets along, the state oversees every aspect of the citizens' welfare (that's what they mean by "the government guarantees individual rights and civil liberties"), people pay sky-high taxes to support the bloated and all-powerful government, but don't mind because they're off their chumps on sex and drugs and other hallmarks of an indolent, cared-for lifestyle.

Hogwash, I say. That's not what humans were meant for. Humans strive. Humans overcome. Humans pioneer. Humans explore. Humans hunt. Humans kill.

[grunt, snort]

Sorry. As I was saying, humans don't fit the mold which the liberals seek to jam us into. We weren't mean for a utopia. We weren't mean for a civilized, caring society. I think pastoralism and minarchy are the ideal fit for humanity. Anything more threatens us with a total stagnation of the human condition, a decadent travesty of civilization, a sparkly balloon easily punctured by external or internal pressures. (If you think I'm wrong, ask Thomas Cole.)

I wondered why, as a boy, I loved watching movies and cartoons where governments and bureaucratic order had been overthrown, and the world had descended into lawless chaos. (Mad Max and Thundarr the Barbarian come to mind). There was no law to tell you what you could or couldn't do; you had to decide for yourself. You could be bad or good. I loved the idea, without really knowing why.

As I got older (and politically aware), I figured it out. We've got too much government right now. So much that it's stifling our very nature as living, breathing, entropic beings.

To be properly free, we need a minimum of government, a government which fulfills no further function than that of a night watchman. The government doesn't try to control the administration of things like health care and welfare and job creation and other social programs; those things aren't rights, they're privileges. They aren't guaranteed, they're earned. The people are on their own for those things. The government should merely ensure that the people's basic rights—speech, press, arms-bearing, assembly—are guaranteed. Then it can back the hell off.

So, naturally, in my novel, all the world's governments and governing bodies—particularly the United States—vanish in an instant. The world is now leaderless, anarchic. And of course, a host of baddies rise up to fill the void and impose their will upon a helpless population. Enter our two heroes. They save the day, move on, do it again. Live life as they want. Oppose oppression. Exercise independence, common sense, human decency. Explore, strive, create, inspire. If those aren't true American values, then I'm more idealistic than I dared to admit.

And then...well, I don't want to spoil the plot-lines of future works, but I will say this much. My two heroes, after kicking around for a while and saving the day here and there, decide to found a country of their own in the midst of this bellowing wilderness. It's a free country, a good country, a large and powerful country. It's filled with hardworking souls who don't feel entitled to anything, who know that the government isn't there to support them or care for them, but simply to protect their rights. It's a country where moral goodness and common sense are valued above political correctness, affirmative action, reparations and the crippling overabundance of tolerance. And it's a country unafraid to defend itself or its allies from threats. Actions, not words. Guns, not sanctions. Confrontation, not appeasement. That's the American way. 

Long story short...I'm writing a novel which is essentially American in its character, in which I create the ideal world as I see it. One that makes sense to me. One that feels right. A world where our fates aren't decided before we're born; where we're not dependent on technology or successful careers or upward mobility; where we decide who and what we want to be, every minute of every day; and we have the freedom to follow whatever path we choose. And those who challenge our way of life, those who seek to dominate or terrorize us, are dealt with, swiftly and permanently, at the point a sword blade or a six-shooter.

I hope this makes you want to read it.

And now kindly listen to this, a paean to unexplored worlds. This technology is allowed:

recommended reading

There's some serious catching-up in order.

Therefore, I won't tell you about what I'm reading right now. I'm taking a break and just doing some stuff for business and pleasure. I'm busting through a couple of sci-fi anthologies (The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Volumes I and IIB), which I hope will help me write better sci-fi, and also are a damn lot of fun. I might even tell you about some of the stories I've read, if you behave yourselves.

In addition to that, I'm slowly plowing through Dr. Robert Bakker's paradigm shifter The Dinosaur Heresies, in which the scruffy, courageous maverick first put forth his controversial theory that dinosaurs were not pea-brained, slow-moving, swamp-dwelling sluggards, but were dynamic, lively, active, agile, bird-like and intelligent. This bombshell challenged hundreds of years of universally accepted scientific thought on the terrible lizards. Bakker's discoveries, though initially criticized, withstood all tests and vitriol. Today, when we think "dinosaurs," we imagine the terrifyingly smart and agile Velociraptors from the film Jurassic Park. We have Bakker to thank for that (even though the paleontological consultant to Spielberg's film was Jack Horner, Bakker's bitter enemy, who believed that T-Rex was a scavenger [?!?!?!?]).

I haven't enlightened you about what I've already read, though, and that's why we're here. I have to review a couple of works I completed after finishing Moby-Dick a few months back.

I didn't waste any time sitting on my laurels after conquering Melville's leviathan. I was over at Miss H's place when I spotted Elie Wiesel's seminal work Night on her bookshelf. I asked to borrow it, and before the day was out, I had finished and returned it. It's a little book, but filled with the scope of human tragedy, suffering, cruelty and horror.

I could speak of how Elie and hundreds of other Romanian Jews were removed from their villages by brutal Hungarian policemen, cudgeled into lines, and marched away from their only home...

The last glimpse Elie had of his mother and sister as they were led into the gates of Auschwitz...

The loss of Elie's faith as he witnessed the hanging of a twelve-year-old boy...

How even the rabbis were reduced to blank, staring, godless husks by the horrors of starvation, torture, and brutality...

The long, cold, desperate flight from one camp to another as Allied armies drew near, and how the Jewish prisoners were forced to run through the snow and the darkness, and any who straggled or fell were shot...

...but that would probably spoil the book for you, so I won't.

Wiesel is on the second row up from the floor, seventh from left.

I'll just say this: more than any other work I've ever reviewed—fiction or nonfiction, printed or televised—Night brought home the horrors of the Holocaust most grimly and truthfully. It's a literal punch to the gut. For once it's no surprise that a particular work won the Nobel Peace Prize.

And now on to more cheerful territory...
Have you ever wondered if maybe the scientists were wrong, and the interior of the world wasn't just a mass of molten rock, but was hollow and cool and airy and possibly filled with prehistoric beasts?

Well, even if you haven't, Edgar Rice Burroughs sure did. And he wrote At the Earth's Core just to show the world what he thought.

There are definite fringe benefits to being friends with a scientist. Make a sponge of your mind and you'll soak up a lot of mental detritus. As an added perk, your scientist chum may even let you give his gizmo the first test ride.

Such is the case with David Innes, the wealthy heir to a mining empire who, attempting to make a good show of his father's business enterprise, invests in the invention of his scientist friend, Abner Perry. The invention is the "iron mole" a sort of segmented steel worm with a huge drill on the front, which Perry insists will increase efficiency one million percent. As the principle investor, Innes is given the privilege of riding shotgun in the device while Abner takes it on the maiden voyage.

Everything goes downhill from there, so to speak.

The giant iron mole burrows into the ground like a...like a...well, like giant iron mole. Alarmed, Professor Perry tries to turn the beast aside and regain the surface; but no such luck. Both men strain at the helm until they're blue in the face, but the mole cannot be turned; it's heading straight down at a tremendous rate. Perry and Innes give themselves up for lost, resigning themselves to falling into the Earth's molten mantle and perishing in the blaze.

...but they don't.

Five hundred miles down the mole suddenly bursts out of the ground again. A fresh, cool breeze streams through the cracks. The Professor has collapsed from heat and exhaustion, but Innes is able to crack open the hatch and look outside.

He sees trees. Hills. A beach. An ocean. And a horizon which curves up instead of down. He can see mountains and oceans in the distance, turned on their ends, as though he was seeing from above.

Gradually, the men figure it out. They're standing on the inside of a huge sphere.

They are inside the Earth.

The Earth, it turns out, is hollow. And what's more, it's inhabited.

Welcome to Pellucidar, the savage land at the Earth's core.

All the better to massage you with, my sweet!

Perry and Innes are soon drawn into a millennia-long conflict between the primitive humans who reside in Pellucidar and the vicious Mahars, telepathic reptilian monsters who keep humans as draft animals...and livestock. Along the way they encounter sabertooth cats, dinosaurs, sea monsters, and all manner of nasties, dwelling in a land of eternal sunlight.

At the Earth's Core was first published serially in 1914, and released in book form in 1922. Since then, it has attained a small cult following, but remains largely obscure, probably due to more well-known stories like Verne's Journey to the Centre of the Earth.

Nonetheless, it's an astounding tale. The concept is intriguing, if totally bogus. (Hey, that's why they call it science fiction, right?) First off, there's no way there'd be eternal sunlightg at the center of the planet, weird electrical phenomena notwithstanding. Second, gravity's pull would be considerably less at the center of the Earth, but it would still pull you toward the center. You could not "walk about" on the inside curve of a chamber inside the globe unless the planet was spinning a lot faster, like a centrifuge. Third, the air would be so dense 500 miles down that it'd be tantamount to breathing water. Human lungs would collapse.

But I didn't come here to pick the science apart. I came to tell you how awesome the story was. And it was awesome. Burroughs sure knows how to write a gripping fight scene (and there's a boatload of fight scenes). The plot rapidly becomes more complex and convoluted as human traitors, mindless monsters, and a ravishing love interest make their appearance. There are desperate scrapes, close shaves, narrow escapes, rousing victories, moments of unbridled joy and plenty of stark, quivering terror. And at the end, there is a very human feeling.

Everything that makes good, rousing science fiction, in my opinion.

You might have a little trouble getting into it, as Burroughs does have what critics called a "stilted, florid style"...but it's nowhere near as bad as Jules Verne. You'll do fine.

And finally, as an interesting sidenote...

In At the Earth's Core, the Mahars (those evil reptilian beings) employ the thuggish gorilla-esque Sagoths to do their dirty work for them, rounding up slaves and enforcing the rules. At the Earth's Core had an enormous influence on another of my favorite authors, H.P. Lovecraft. In Lovecraft's book At the Mountains of Madness, he introduced the shoggoths, huge, slimy, amorphous blobs, also the servants of a master race. These were inspired in name and function by the Sagoths of Burroughs's story. Shoggoths have proven as influential to other writers as the Sagoths were for Lovecraft: the beastly things have appeared in countless works of fiction, sci-fi and horror over the decades. One of these works, notably, was Robert Bloch's Notebook Found in a Deserted House, which is widely accepted to be one of the cardinal inspirations for the 1999 film The Blair Witch Project.

That concludes this edition of "Six Degrees of (Literary) Separation."

Is he bursting out of the hillside in a mindless rage? Or did he lose his toboggan?

Until next time...

micro-level prerequisites for world peace

The question is often asked: "Why can't we all just get along?"

I've bloviated elsewhere about the answer to this trite-yet-apt query. I believe the problem to be due, simply, to a lack of perspective. Unable to sympathize with others or step into their shoes, some folk are thereby unable to compromise or maintain a peaceful demeanor, resulting in disagreements and even wars. (Not that I don't believe there's such a thing as righteous war; ho yes, it exists.)

Beyond perspective (or lack thereof) there might also be some more minor, superficial problems which form the roots of this planet's deplorable lack of peacefulness. Hot-headedness and over-aggressiveness might be one such problem. Some folks are just wound up tight. And what are people when they aren't relaxed? That's right, tense. Disagreeable. Surly. Sullen. Perhaps even bellicose and belligerent.

Another difficulty is ignorance. Humanity has always feared and mistrusted what it doesn't know and understand. Increased global knowledge and "worldliness" might indeed be the key to creating more international and interpersonal harmony and minimizing discord. The phrase "know your enemy" takes on a whole new meaning here; it might herald a peaceful end to conflict.

So, to that end, I have conceived a plan for instigating world peace on a micro-level...that is, on an individual basis. If everybody on the planet (or a vast majority) would just shut up and DO these three things, then we might all soon be leaving in a happier, quieter, more sane world.

Number 1 : Take some time every day to kick back, relax, and listen to some beautiful music. This is the simplest one of the bunch. It can be any kind of music, so long as it's laid-back, slow, and most importantly, melodic. It doesn't even have to be John Lennon (although that does help; that man made some of the most lovely music in the history of the world, not even including lyrics). It can be classical (Strauss or Mozart or even some Beethoven works well, but the real masters here are Tchaikovsky and Rossini, I think), contemporary (take your pick, there's plenty of artists out there who make some of the most awe-inspiring, mellifluous rhythms and harmonies you could wish for), or whatever. Heck, listen to the sound of rainfall or beaches if that's what cools you down. Everybody just needs some time to stretch out prone, immerse themselves in the divine art of sound, and introspect for a spell. If nothing else, it's marvelous stress relief. It can be used as a preventative measure (say, before going to work) or in a remedial capacity (say, AFTER work). Any way you like, you can listen, that's the best thing.

Number 2 : Go up in the SR-71 Blackbird or the space shuttle and experience the Overview Effect. "The Overview Effect" is the term (coined by Frank White in his book The Overview Effect) for the feeling of anthropic admiration, love, peacefulness and unity that almost never fails to impinge itself upon the consciousness of human beings who have ascended far enough above the Earth's surface to see it in all its glory...and smallness in comparison with the rest of the Universe. As far as I know, it's never failed: once astronauts go up in space, or some TV documentary host hitches a ride on a high-flying airplane, and these tiny, fragile human beings catch a glimpse of our planet stretched out in all its majesty and uniqueness and beauty, an ineffable sense of awe comes over them. Things given such importance and precedence on the ground (political standpoint, nationality, religious differences, what have you) drop away with the atmosphere and leave the viewer humbled, wiser, perhaps slightly ashamed of his or her own prejudices. Perhaps most tellingly, however, all of these people who have gone up and experienced the Overview Effect come back with a more profound concern for human cooperation ("world peace," if you want to call it that). Now, it seems, in full knowledge of the scope of human existence and achievement after their heavens-scraping ride, these fortunate humans have realized how insignificant most people's disputes, problems and disagreements are. It's impossible to do this in front of your TV set, however. You have to physically be up there and experience it. If everybody in the world had the chance to do this—to go upstairs and get a look at Starship Earth—maybe we'd all bit a little more eager to quit squabbling, get along, and accomplish something great.

Number 3 : Hit the books. I'm no political scientist, historian, anthropologist, or economist, but I would venture to suggest that half this world's problems are caused by ignorance. Ignorance of a thing is bad enough; ignorance of each other is unforgivable. If people would stop focusing on themselves, their culture, or their own traditions so much and took the time to learn about others', I don't think I'm far off the mark by saying (as so many others before me have said) that the world would be a better place. If those damn Muslim extremists weren't so brainwashed from birth with the Koran and Mohammed and Allah, and they took a time-out to actually get to know a few Jews in the corner bar over a few drinks, I highly doubt that even a spirited religious debate could get in the way of friendships being made. There's a reason they call it a "heart-to-heart." You open up to people on a deeply fundamental level that transcends beliefs and perceptions, and truly communicate. When that happens, people connect. And those connections can't be forgotten or severed or withered. And those connections are worth more to this world than all the gold that's buried in it, or all the kingdoms and empires that have passed upon it. Even if you just open up a book about the other side and read about what they do, it can only help you to learn more and understand (and perhaps stop disliking). Going over there and visiting is even better.

I knew nothing about Korea before I went there, except the name of the capital and the fact that the U.S. had had a war there. I actually kind of disliked Korea; I wasn't sure if the name sounded right rolling off the tongue. Boy, was I mistaken about it. I loved the place and still do. Its government is democratic, its outlook is conservative but fun-loving, the food is healthy AND delicious, and the people...well, most of the people there are worth their weight in gold. I met many dear friends, and I'll never forget the friendships and camaraderie I forged with the children (some of whom learned a thing or two about Westerners while I was around, too!). When I got there I was awkward, nervous, suspicious, scared; so were the children. But we opened up to each other. Classes went from silent to boisterous. I went from having kids veer out of my way to having them clamber all over me when I walked in the door. Even now I'm misting up thinking about it.

I'm not sure why I wrote this. Maybe it's because I'm listening to Coldplay right now (speaking of beautiful music). Maybe it's because I'm reading all this stuff on FoxNews.com about women having their babies cut out of them, and suicide bombings in the Middle East, and harsh words being exchanged between North Korea and the U.S.A., and I'm sick to death of it all (it doesn't have to be like this, folks; it might've been different). Maybe it's because I love flying and I've experienced a tiny bit of that Overview Effect myself, and firmly believe in its sociopolitical healing powers. Maybe I'm just a sentimental fool who's preaching too loudly to no one. All I ask, as always, is that you consider it. I wouldn't mind if the world considered it, either.