The Evolution of Power

    Throughout human history, the rapid pace of development has left generations of individuals questioning the extent of their power over circumstance and fate. As technological and cultural innovations have flourished, the individual’s perception of their role in the world has also evolved. Within the Romantic era, humanity is often displayed as powerless to resist the strength of nature. In later years, many Modernist thinkers often portray the individual as primarily concerned with the preservation of the self. With the rise of Post-Modernism, mankind increasingly becomes aware of the effects of his actions on the entire society, and a single life becomes a key figure within the global community. As these movements progress historically, the individual transitions from a powerless victim to asserting influence on a global scale, realizing along the way violent self-preservation leads only to chaos. Not only does this shift mark a drastic change in the perceived influence of the person, it also bears important implications for society.

    Perhaps the clearest theme within Romantic writing is the lack of human influence over a confusing and complicated world. Often, the future is portrayed as being at the mercy of processes beyond human control. This is illustrated in Johann Wolfgang Goethe’s Romantic poem “Erlking,” in which a young boy flees a mysterious entity. As the poem opens, the child is clearly threatened by the Erlking, who tempts him with promises of comfort and security (194). The father seems to ignore this threat, either from disbelief or in the hopes of comforting his child. Though it is clear that the boy is frightened, the father claims that “its only old willows gleaming so grey” (194). By the end, the Erlking has captured the boy, and the father “arrives home with pain and dread; in his arms the child was dead” (194). Throughout the piece, the Erlking is portrayed as a ghoulish natural force with power over of life and death. Indeed, the word “Erlking” is Danish for “king of the elves,” and in German, “Erle” is a term used to describe forest plants (194). As a natural force, the Erlking becomes an intermediary for a seemingly larger cosmic fate. The father seems unable (or unwilling) to recognize this, and despite his attempts to dismiss the phantom, he is powerless in the face of the Erlking. With this poem, Goethe emphasizes what cannot be ignored; namely, that dismissing the inevitability of death will not make this reality disappear. The best we can do is resist for as long as possible, though in the end even the most innocent is not safe from nature’s power. No matter where we try to hide, we are defenseless and entirely incapable of changing our fate. Our inability to control our future becomes a defining part of being human, and is as inescapable as death. To many, this idea becomes angering, sparking a desire to exert control over a frightening future.

    With passing time, the Romantic notion of helplessness grows into a new perception of mankind. From within the Modernist movement, the individual emerges as the guardian of his own fate, with little emphasis placed on the rest of society, and human power becomes focused on survival. In “Rashomon,” Akutugawa Ryunosuke emphasizes this idea while also noting its implications. As a poor servant sits under a city gate contemplating his future, he is surrounded by a city which has been “visited by a series of calamities, earthquakes, whirlwinds and fires” (208). Despite this, he refuses to accept defeat, and his mind fills with “helpless incoherent thoughts protesting an inexorable fate” (209). Though his situation appears hopeless, he refuses to surrender to nature’s oppression and decides to become a thief (209). While the Romantic may have simply yielded in the face of destruction, something drives him to fight on. To him, his circumstances necessitate immoral behavior, because “if he chose honest means, he would undoubtedly starve to death...”(209). He soon discovers an elderly woman plucking hair from corpses, and though initially repulsed, listens as she defends her actions. To her, survival is the ultimate display of human power. Scolding his naiveté, she states that “making whigs out of the hair of the dead may seem a great evil to you, but these that are here deserve no better” (211). By telling of the dead woman before her (who once sold snake meat pretending it was fish), she illuminates the universality of self preservation, stating that “what she did couldn’t be wrong, because if she hadn’t, she would have starved to death” (211). The woman whose hair she now removes would not be angered because she also did what was necessary to preserve herself. Each person does what he must to survive, as those before have done; anything becomes justifiable when survival is in question. As the servant listens, all doubts vanish as he realizes that to live he must adopt this philosophy (211). As the servant robs her of her meager possessions, the old woman’s words betray her through his act of desperation (211). In deep contrast with the Romantic image of helplessness, the servant becomes united with humanity through his self preservation, and any concern for others is cast aside as he asserts control over his own circumstances. Akutugawa demonstrates the cycle of survival, as the elderly woman is left facing “...only darkness...unknowing and unknown” (211).  The servant has traded her his uncertainty to better himself, leaving her helpless. We are left to wonder if some day, he too will fall victim to an individual seeking to mitigate their suffering. This perception of human power leaves mankind locked in an endless struggle, each passing his misfortune like a virus in order to guarantee his own future.

    Within the framework of societal development, the individual slowly evolves from a powerless observer to an active defender of his own well-being. Yet the tumultuous twentieth century soon demonstrates that a world centered on selfishness can only lead to suffering. It is in response to this that the Post-Modern definition of mankind’s power develops. Within this movement, the individual becomes increasingly aware of his responsibility to the society. In this vein, Hannah Arendt, in “Organized Guilt,” forces us to examine ourselves with the mirror of society’s wrongdoings. Her argument is rooted in the corruptibility of human nature, yet she recognizes our ability to overcome this pitfall. She frames these ideas by asserting that the blame for the German atrocities of the second World War lie not only with lunatic politicians, but with the everyday German citizen. To her, the common man is supremely guilty because “...for the sake of his pension, his life insurance, the security of his wife and children, such a man was ready to sacrifice his beliefs, his honor, and his human dignity” (2109). Through his attempts to guard the well-being of his family, the German citizen neglected the power he held to rise against evil. Arendt recognizes that within each of us is the ability to shape the world, but emphasizes that this can only be used for good once we accept that mistakes are the fault of the entire society. Only to those who “are filled with a genuine fear for the inescapable guilt of the human race, can there be any reliance when it comes to fighting fearlessly...against the incalculable evil that men are capable of bringing about” (2112). In perhaps the strongest contrast to Romanticism, man becomes supreme commander of his own fate, as well as that of his peers. This idea gives the individual the power, and responsibility, to determine the fate of society, but Arendt warns that this must be accompanied by accepting that each of us can fall victim to selfishness. The starting point must be a recognition of “...what man is capable-and this is indeed the precondition of any modern political thinking” (2111). The responsibility lies only with us, and evil results from our failure to use our strength responsibly. In addition, the emphasis on self-preservation seen previously is offered as a warning, for this desire has lead to history’s greatest atrocities. Mankind can only use his power for good once he has accepted his own fallibility.

    In every age, humans have sought to understand their significance in the face of a daunting, unknown future. Accompanying this are feelings of powerlessness and despair, which lead many to desperately guard their own interests. In recent years, violent conflict has lead to the realization that a stable society depends upon an awareness of the individual’s role as one voice among many. Upon examining the historical origins of this idea, a trend emerges which marks the evolution of the individual’s perception of his own power. From the Romantic era to the Post-Modern society, the average citizen has risen from a helpless child to assume the responsibility of crafting a harmonious society. Along the way, this newly discovered power becomes misguided and selfish, but as time passes this reality rears its ugly head. No longer are we a lonely body floating in an angry sea; we must now accept our potential. With this progression blossoms a sense of hope rooted in the possibility that each of us can influence the world for the better. By heeding the warnings of the past, we may continue to guarantee a stable and successful future for generations to come. 

Idealism and Conformity in The Early Cold War

    In the years following World War II, American life was dominated by an insatiable desire to conform. To politicians and citizens alike, political stability could be realized only through a carefully maintained status quo. By encouraging the growth of a homogenous society it was believed that radical ideas and movements could be silenced. Citizens were barraged with images of the perfect family, accented by consumerism and a desire for goods. Freedom was seen as the ability to conform and consume, actions which would ultimately lead to happiness and stability. This idea is underscored in Richard Nixon’s speech opening the American Exhibition in Moscow, where the American system is praised as the definitive way of life. Though political propaganda of the day attempted to mold society into a perfect and homogenous ideal, however, many people spoke out and illustrated the weaknesses of this system. In television, particularly The Twilight Zone, screenwriters such as Rod Serling recognized the frailty of this image and demonstrated how easily society could turn to chaos. The Twilight Zone, through a seemingly implausible story, revealed that the idealized American society was not as perfect as it may have seemed. 

   
     In many ways, the politics of the 1950s were dominated by a desire to maintain a political and social climate which would reduce restlessness and discontent. America’s postwar boom allowed for an increase in economic prosperity and the production of luxury goods, and the average American had access to a greater variety of products which had previously been unavailable. From this, the societal definition of freedom shifted drastically to an emphasis on the accumulation of material goods. In addition, the image of the stereotypical ‘nuclear family,’ propagated through all levels of society, increasing the desire for a stable and traditional home life. This emphasis on materialism is displayed clearly in Richard Nixon’s speech delivered at the opening of the American exposition in Moscow in 1959. In an attempt to extol the virtues of American society, a display of US products and fragments of daily life were assembled in Moscow to give Soviet citizens a vision America what had to offer. In his opening speech, Nixon praises the consumerist culture, emphasizing the variety of comforts Americans enjoy. He proudly proclaims that “America’s 44 million families own a total of 56 million cars, 50 million television sets and 143 million television sets. And they buy an average of 9 million dresses and suits and 14 pairs of shoes per family per year” (245). Throughout it all, he paints an image of American liberty as the ability to obtain. He also outlines the classic ideas of political participation and social welfare, but presents them as secondary to the bountiful American economy. American wealth becomes a tantalizing luxury; the definitive example of American success. His speech illustrates the prevailing theory that by making the population materialistically satisfied, the resulting social climate will reduce feelings of radicalism. Considering the extreme competition being felt from the USSR, the spread of communist ideas and sentiments was especially feared. In order to maintain this system, however, it was vital to industrial and political figures to maintain a strong hold on working individuals in the industrial sphere.

    
    To many powerful business owners and politicians, a well organized society could only be maintained by placing limitations on the freedoms of workers. This idea is pronounced strongly in Clark Kerr’s 1960 piece “Industrialism and Industrial Man.” Kerr points out that to maintain a stable society, the working man must be content with limited freedom in his place of employment. In essence, his ideas harken back to the colonial idea of “freedom through submission,” claiming that through submission to authority one will ultimately be content. He emphasizes the idea of a society defined by an adoption of common ideas and social norms, claiming that “The industrial society...develops a distinctive consensus which...provides a common body of ideas, beliefs, and value judgments integrated into a whole” (250). To Kerr, a successful country depends on a framework rooted in uniformity, in which a standard set of values become adopted by the entire society. In addition, Kerr emphasizes the relinquishment of freedoms within the workplace, such that the working man “...will be subject to greater conformity imposed not only by the enterprise manager but also the state and by his own occupational association” (251). Yet he also recognizes the weaknesses of the system, stating that a successful industrial society requires that “people must perform as expected or it breaks down” (251). In this, we begin to see the first whispers of doubt as Kerr admits a weakness which Nixon never recognized. The idealized images of the two car garage and nuclear family begin to fade as it ivecomes clear that within every person is the ability to resist the system. In reality, many of Kerr’s contemporaries were already pointing out the foundation of sand which supported this vision for American society.

    
    To many individuals during this period, the idea of a homogenous society ignored one crucial factor: human nature. Perhaps the best example of this criticism is seen in the 1960 episode of The Twilight Zone titled “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street.” In the opening scenes, we enter the perfect suburban neighborhood; the narrator even referring to it as “Maple street, USA.” The standard gender roles are observed: the men are outside mowing lawns, fixing cars, and tending the yard. The women are all within the homes, cooking and cleaning. Men throughout the neighborhood admire their cars, and the homes are clean and new. This neighborhood fits Nixon’s image of America--nothing is lacking, everyone has what they could ever want. Yet things immediately take a turn for the worst after a bright flash is seen in the sky and every electrical device fails. The friendly citizens of Maple Street soon turn to paranoia and fear as they realize that their cars, radios, phones, and lights are dead. The first sign of trouble is when their things, their materialistic lifestyle, fails them. They soon begin to question the identity of their neighbors, wondering if perhaps one of them is an enemy from space. This paranoia acts as a startling criticism of the Cold War obsession with espionage. In many ways, their ruthless search for the deceiver among them can be seen as a reflection of the desperate attempt to root out communist spies and sympathizers manifested by Joseph McCarthy and those like him. By the end, they have lost complete control and the neighborhood has turned to anarchy. As the camera pulls back we are left with screams, gunshots, sounds of broken glass, and images of mayhem and murder. Their desperate attempt to protect themselves from the hidden enemy has destroyed the perfect society. An idyllic neighborhood, within less than a day, has turned into a lawless society. Yet the only unusual thing is that the power has gone out, leaving the scared citizens to invent a fantasy world for themselves. It is soon revealed that a race of extraterrestrial beings has been manipulating their devices as a way of turning them on themselves, finally observing the truth about this society: 

          Just stop a few of their machines; their radios and telephones and lawnmowers. Throw them into           darkness for a few hours and then sit back and watch the pattern....they pick the most dangerous enemy         they can find, and its themselves.

   Here, The Twilight Zone delivers perhaps its most poignant message. We are given the antithesis to the freedom put forth by Richard Nixon and Clark Kerr; a freedom defined by consumerism and conformity. Indeed, this episode premiered at the same time as these men proclaimed these ideas, demonstrating a clear voice of contemporary resistance. Through the men and women of Maple Street, we see what happens when a reliance upon things becomes the central tenet of a society’s well being. In addition, a world built upon a standard set of common beliefs and ideals is shown to be impossible. Each citizen ultimately looks out for one person: himself. Their eagerness to place the blame on each other quickly leads them to violence and brutality. In the ruthless quest to defend the self, all neighborly bonds are broken as each thinks he has found the real deciever. The writers of this story carefully present this scene in order to illustrete the disastrous consequences of a society built on blind acceptance of an idea. Through this, we see that a society must be based on reason and cooperation, not blind adoption of a materialistic and oppressive ideal.

    To many during the Cold War period, the only hope for America was to encourage the creation of a society in which everyone adhered to the same core beliefs and values. While there is some validity to this idea, the notion that everyone should follow the same status quo is unrealistic. Defining freedom as the ability to consume, as Nixon would, leads society down a rabbit hole of greed. So too does the idea of a world based around the same set of traditional values, championed by Kerr in his view of the industrial society. In The Twilight Zone, we are given a startling reminder of what happens when a society prioritizes material wealth and conformity, and in so doing becomes blinded to different viewpoints and ways of life. In the closing lines of the episode, Rod Serling states that “for the record, prejudices can kill, and suspicion can destroy. And a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all of its own.” This statement challenges future generations to avoid the Cold War era obsession with eliminating subversive ideas. In reality, the ‘frightened search for a scapegoat’ damaged the morale of a nation, leading to numerous6 countercultural movements in the years that followed. Each of these movements, in their own way, were a reaction against these attempts to silence those who illuminated the flaws of the system. As we continue toward an unknown future, it is important to heed these words, and to remember that a society can function only when it is built upon tolerance and cooperation. In no way can we expect to develop successfully if we insist on maintaining the prejudices and biases of the past. 

Embracing our Humanity in an Uncertain World

      Throughout our lives, we are forced to recognize that the future is unknown. Some see this as terrifying, becoming locked in an internal battle between outcomes. The uncertainty of our existence is something which should not be feared, but met with courage and acceptance. It is a stronghold, and the ability to make decisions and perform meaningful actions in response is the ultimate challenge to us. To proceed, however, we must begin with a firm knowledge of who we are as humans, accepting the fact that we can shape ourselves through our decisions.  Some philosophers, however, have put forth ideas which seem to threaten this power. Immanuel Kant, in his Prolegomena, asserts that we are incapable of physically experiencing ourselves as subjects.  If “I” as a subject cannot be experienced, then our power in the face of uncertainty vanishes. If it is possible to face the uncertainty plaguing our lives, then we must be able to experience ourselves as real subjects (A->B). The fact that we face uncertainty is indisputable (A), as we are plagued by this condition daily. As such, we can experience ourselves as subjects, and indeed must (B). It is this experience which allows us to accept our fate and move forward. Only by being firmly planted in the reality of our condition can we truly live our lives without fear of uncertainty. 

In the Prolegomena, Kant asserts that the fundamental “I” which we use to define ourselves is something which has no physical reality. This subject is something we have created as a sort of general consensus, which allows us to have a common footing as humans. He states that “but the question whether I myself as an appearance of the internal sense...exist apart from my faculty of representation in time...must likewise be answered in the negative (p.73, 337).”  To claim this is to say we have no power over uncertainty. We become entities lacking the ability to move beyond our physicality to create our own meaning. For Kant, “...the ego is not a concept, but only the indication of the object of the internal sense, so far as we cognize it by not further predicate (p.70, 334).” Kant views the notion of humanity as a subject as a feeling we have, a method of sorts for organizing our impressions of the world. If this is the case, then humanity is reduced to a mere illusion. If a human, as a subject, is without reality, then we become unable to create our essence. This is precisely the point which Jean-Paul Sartre makes in In Existentialism and Humanism, where he paints an empowering picture of what it means to be human in an uncertain universe. To Sartre, we do not define ourselves until we have affirmed certain values. Each of us, through our actions, defines humanity as we face an uncertain fate. In addition, Sartre sees our existence as the starting point. “We mean that man first of all exists, encounters himself...and defines himself afterwards (p.67).”  We are born into the world as a tabula rasa of sorts, later defining who we are. To him, “man is free, man is freedom (p.71).”  This, above all, is the fundamental thing we experience of ourselves. Sartre, like Kant, does not believe in a universal definition for humanity. They both value the power of human reason, but what Sartre claims about the human condition is, inadvertently, the fundamental core of our being. “I” is a fundamental reality of being human that is defined by the freedom which we carry. The fact that we are capable of surviving an uncertain world points to the fact that we fully experience ourselves.  It is this freedom which we are experiencing in all that we do, and it is inescapable.  It is impossible for us to not experience our fundamental selves. 

If Kant were correct, and we had no physical reality as subjects, then we would be incapable of facing uncertainty.  The fundamental core of our being, what defines a person as “I,” is the ability to look uncertainty in the eye, and to have the freedom to take action. To be unable to experience ourselves in this way would be like saying that a fish is unable to experience water.  We are defined by our ability to cope with uncertainty. Only by accepting this fact, and not letting the unknowns haunt us, can we find peace. Sartre makes it clear that we are the masters of the future, in that we craft the society we wish to exist.  Kant and Sartre both miss the fundamental concept of humanity as a subject which is experienced and defined, however, and indeed is necessarily experienced. While Sartre accepts our free will, he does not make the connection of this freedom to the subject that is a human. “I” am a free being, one that can face uncertainty in any way I choose.  At the most fundamental level we experience ourselves as subjects with an inescapable freedom. Acceptance of our predicament is the only way to move forward. Ultimately, we must trust only ourselves. To be paralyzed by fear of uncertainty is to not embrace the empowerment that comes with being human. 

A Bit of Chemical Poetry

In the vessel, each particle swirls,
Moving fast, in spins and twirls,

A molecular dance, of scale unseen,
Here things happen as in a dream.

Soon they draw near, and come together,
One by one, they meet each other.

The one, long and spindly, like a serpent he,
Will be the victim of our tragedy,

Ancient men, in their perplexion,
May cry "bromos!" upon inspection.

The part he plays, unfortunately,
Is such that he will no longer be.

The other? Why, he is cunning--
Sneaks up behind in a manner stunning,

Be cautious if you do come near,
His name alone inspires fear.

Once he comes upon his brother,
They soon collide with one another.

They dance a dance,
And they do shudder,
For by the end they know each other.

Though neither has remained the same,
Something new may come again.

From this brief duel do spring anew,
Two friends, each one forever true.

For as they change there name, hereby,
Will they remain forever sly.

Tom Stratton (untitled as of now)

Tom Stratton sat looking at the home on the hillside. In the dimming evening light, he could just perceive the details of its structure, giving subtle and warm life to its outline.  As the sun dipped below the tree line, the home began to vanish into the warm night air.  It was a special place, indeed.

Tom was an ordinary man, who did extraordinary things.  For fifteen years he had been a United Nations Relief Worker in some of the most besieged and strife-ridden parts of the globe.  From the middle east to Central America, he had spent nearly half his life helping those whom without him had next to nothing.  Tom never allowed his work to infiltrate his ego; in all things, he was level headed and kind.  He took pleasure in helping those less fortunate.

Throughout his experiences in conflict-ravished nations, Tom had always had one major responsibility.  He, along with a number of others like him, had always lead civilians and children out of combat zones.  After Desert Storm, he helped treat wounded Kuwaiti citizens; In Chechnya, he helped evacuate civilians from Grozny during the Russian siege.  Through all of this, he had seen the cost of human greed and hunger for power.  He was a wiser man because of it.

After fifteen years of helping those without hope, he felt it was time to stop--at least for now.  He had no doubt that he would return to his work one day; yet there comes a point when in helping others, oneself can be left neglected.  This is why Tom bought the house.

The next day he scribbled his signature on the deed, and felt the jingle of the keys as they dropped into his palm. 

“Enjoy, Mr. Stratton.  Its a lovely home,” the realtor chuckled.  Something in his voice almost sounded sarcastic.

“Yes, its beautiful.”

There was a silence.  The realtor fidgeted at his desk, twisting a paperclip.  Tom’s eyebrows raised.

“Is there...something wrong?” he cautioned.

“Wrong? Why, whatever do you mean?”

He gathered his thoughts, choosing his words carefully.

“Well, its like this.  Ever since I’ve been looking at the place, you’ve been acting strangely.  Hell, everyone has been acting strangely.  I mentioned it to the woman at the diner down the street, and she gave me a look that would fry an egg!”

The man swallowed hard.  

“People just get a bit nervous in these parts about newcomers, thats all.” His voice was sincere, but his eyes said otherwise.

“Is there something your not telling me, Mr. Donaldson?” Tom looked at his signature on the deed.  There was no way out of it now, anyway.  

“Its just that...that house. Its...”

“Its what?”

“Its just a little...special.  Thats all.” Mr. Donaldson exhaled slowly.  He seemed relieved.

“Special.  Yes, I know its special, thats why I bought it.  But I don’t think we seem to have the same definition of special.”

Donaldson looked up suddenly, his eyes helpless and confused.  He stared for a moment, then hurriedly began to gather his things. 

“Look, I’m sorry Mr. Stratton, I should never have even mentioned it.  The house is special, like I said,” he began shoveling papers into his briefcase.  

“I assure you, you will enjoy the house immensely, its a fine property for a fine price.  Now if you will excuse me, I must be off!” With that he was out the door and down the stairs before Tom could get another word in.  

Two days later, he was fully moved into his new residence.  Tom’s work had taught him to move quickly and efficiently, and this carried over conveniently into his personal life.  In the dim evening light, he sat on his back patio reading.  The deep Virginia sunset cast rays of orange and red onto the sides of the house, making them come alive as though an invisible painter were splashing brushes of gold onto a brick canvas.  The mist crept down slowly along the hills, tainted red and orange by the evening sun.  He looked up from his page.  The world seemed motionless, suspended but for a moment in a peaceful orange mist.  All seemed well.  Tom breathed a contented sigh, deep and powerful, as one breathes deeply before holding one’s breath.  As he exhaled, the valleys and hills seemed to breath in unison with him; the world seemed ready for sleep.

And then, it happened.

As he glanced back down at the book, he heard a faint tapping on his door.  At first, it was barely perceptible.  He looked up quickly, waited with bated breath, then returned to his page.  Yet, again, the knocking returned, this time loud enough that he was certain it had not been the wind.  Who could be knocking at this hour?  He rose to the door, and as he approached, he could see the outline of a person in the small peep hole.  He swung the door open.

There, bathed in the light of the setting sun, stood a little girl.  She could not have been more than six.

Tom was startled.  What could such a young child be doing all the way out here, alone?

“Hello, sweetheart--what can I do for you?” he smiled.

The little girl looked into his eyes, as though she were searching for something.  He stood, transfixed for a moment, as he waited for her reply.  

She continued to stand there, motionless, speechless.  Her small blue eyes nearly leapt into his own, swimming through his thoughts and searching his heart.  Somewhere in him, a flicker; a sudden memory flashes and then is gone.  Like the blinding light of a flashbulb in the darkness, something pulsed within his mind.  He let out a startled gasp.

And finally, she spoke.  Slowly, deliberately, sweetly.  

“Do you know the way?”

He blinked.  For some unknown reason, hie eyes began to moisten.  He felt as though he were no longer of this earth; a great void stood between him and the world.

He cautiously spoke, unsure of what to say.

“The way...to what?” 

The little girl cocked her head slightly.

“You must know.  Do you know the way?”

He stood motionless.  His mind was blank; he could find no words. 

Something behind him crashed, sending a pulse of sound through the house.  He jumped, heart racing.  Turning towards the kitchen, he noticed it was only a pan falling from the rack.  He turned to the door.

The girl was gone.  He was suddenly afraid.  He raced out the door, down the long wooded driveway, and spun in circles, searching every bush and tree in the dim light.  She was nowhere to be found.

Tom did not sleep that night.  Each time he closed his eyes, he could see her searching his mind, her eyes stepping into his soul.  And each time the heavy darkness began to overtake his lids, that same flashbulb memory pierced his eyes until he was thrown wide awake, trembling.  

The next morning, he made his way into town.   He stopped at the Sheriff’s station.

Opening the door, he peered into the small office.  Behind the desk sat a tall, skinny man hunched over a desk.  As the door shut, he peered up at Tom through a pair of half-glasses.  

“What can I help you with today, friend?” he drawled kindly.

“You the Sheriff?” Tom queried, though he was not convinced.

The man chuckled. “Naw, just a deputy.  Name’s Vince, Vince Martin.  Have a seat, I’ll get the Sheriff for you.”

Tom sat, taking in the rustic nature of the station.  Off to the side, a door opened.  An older man with gray, thinning hair stepped out.  Tall but heavy set, he looked as one would expect a country sheriff to.  He smiled.

“Hello there, friend.  I’m John Watson, Sheriff around here. Have we met?”

Tom smiled back, “I dont believe so. My name is Tom Stratton.  I just bought the old Southerland house.”

The Sheriff and the deputy exchanged a quick glance.  A momentary silence followed.

“Well, pleasure to meet you Tom.  Glad to hear you find our little town so pleasant.  Please, have a seat.  What can I help you with?”

Tom sat.  “Well, I hope you don't think what I’m about to say sounds crazy or anything.  I promise, I’m not nuts.  You see, last night I--” Vince handed him a steaming mug of sweet-smelling coffee.  “Thanks. As I was saying, last night I had a rather strange experience.”

The same look was again exchanged.  

“How so?” the Sheriff moved his chair closer.

“Well, round about nine-thirty, I got a knock on my door.  Naturally I was quite surprised to have anyone visit me at all, considering I just moved here, but I was especially surprised to have a visitor that late.”  He sipped the coffee.  “Thats good. Whats in this?”

“Just a bit a’whiskey, makes everything better.  Anyway, continue.” 

“Well as I was saying, I got a knock on my door last night.  When I opened it, it was, if you’ll believe me, a young girl.  She couldn’t have been more than six!”

Tom detected the slightest flinch from Vince and the Sheriff.  

“Really now?” John stroked his beard. “Go on,” he seemed interested.

“Well,” Tom took another sip to steady his mind, “she hardly spoke.  And as soon as she was there, she vanished.  I ran down the road; looked everywhere.  She was nowhere to be found.”

The Sheriff seemed surprisingly unfazed.

“What I’m asking, sir, is if anyone has gone missing recently.  This girl could have been lost, for all I know.  Hell, my home is so remote, I don't know what anyone would be doing out there that late, let alone a six year old child.”

The Sheriff took a deep breath. 

“We’ve had no reports of any missing persons, Tom.  Now I’m guessing that maybe it was a group of local kids playing a prank on you.  Maybe some teenagers out camping with their little sister decided to have a some fun with the new guy in town.  I wouldn’t worry about it too much.  If I hear anything though, I’ll let you know.”

Tom couldn't be sure, but he thought he noticed the Sheriff’s hand tremble, almost imperceptibly, as he reached for a pen.

 “Here’s my number, if anything ever happens again, don’t hesitate to call me.  Like I said though, I wouldn’t get too bent out of shape.  Kids here sometimes like to have a little fun at someone else’s expense.  God knows there isn't much else to do around here.” The Sheriff and the deputy laughed.  Tom tried to smile, but felt confused.

Before heading home, he stopped at the small store to buy a few things.  At the counter, the kindly looking older woman began to chat with him.

“My name’s Marsha, and my husband Bill and I own this store,” she said proudly.

Tom smiled, “It’s a fine establishment. My name is Tom Stratton.  I’m a bit new here; just bought the old Southerland home.”

The woman, who was placing groceries in a bag, jolted slightly, dropping a small jar of cherries which shattered on the floor.  Her face went slightly pale.

“Oh my, I am so sorry! I just get a little clumsy sometimes,” she moved to clean up the mess. 

“Let me,” Tom offered.    

“Oh, how nice of you.  I’ll go and get you another jar.”

As he drove up the densely wooded road to his new home, Tom’s mind began to drift to the night before.  Out of the corner of his eye, behind a tree, he thought he perceived the faintest movement.  The shadows, he thought, are getting to me.  The sun is setting, after all, and thats the time when the mind plays tricks.

Later that evening, as he sat in the cool evening air, his thoughts again continued to wander.  The flashbulb memory which had struck puzzled him.  Try as he might, he could not place it.  Yet he knew it was rising somewhere within him, trying to be let out and recognized.  Something in the child’s eyes had stirred it within him; had awakened a memory deep within his mind.  Yet he still could not place it. 

Sleep, shallow but satisfying, slowly overtook him.  He dreamt of the past, of the places he had been.  The people he had known.  The lives he had touched. 

Somewhere in the night, long after the deep orange rays hid behind the mountains, he awoke startled.  The living room was dark and still; the only light came from the flickering candles he had lit on the mantle.  A cool breeze swept through the open french doors leading in from the deck.  He breathed out a deep sigh.  It was the epitome of the stillness and silence of the dead of night.   

The candles flickered.  

As his eyes became heavy once more, and as the breeze fluttered past his face and neck, something stirred.  A voice, a whisper, floated in on the wind.

Guide me.

His eyes widened, searching the room.  In the darkness, broken only by dim candlelight, something stirred.  At the base of the wide, curving staircase, a shadow shifted and sighed.  

He sat up, slowly, eyes fixed on the base of the stair.  The tall window behind let in the dim moonlight, providing a faint silver illumination to the spot where the shadow stood.  As the clouds moved past, the light grew brighter.  

There, at the base of the stairs, stood the faint shadow of a woman, her figure framed from behind by the fractured silver rays of the moon.  Only her outline was visible.  

She stood, arms limply crossed around her, her head tilted towards him.  Her hair, which was only a flowing dark mass, tumbled around her shoulders.  Though he could not see them, Tom knew her eyes were on him.  A breeze once again flowed through the room.

Guide me.  The shadow shifted slightly. 

Tom moved to his knees on the couch, cautiously inching closer to the arm, as though he were approaching a bird. He spoke, slowly.

“What are you?” his voice trembled. 

Please, guide me.  You must know the way. Her shadowy arms moved towards him as she sank to her knees.  She stretched out a hand, dark and vaporous.  As she reached, he sat with bated breath, moving his hand slowly towards hers.  

Use the gift you know you possess--guide me once more to that safe haven. 

He moved nearer to her now, and as her hand reached him, it brushed his cheek.  Warm and tender, like a gentle wind on a summer night, it flowed past him.  Her outline moved away.

“Please, don’t go,” he begged.  The shadow became faint.  Her outline wavered, her flowing hair rustled in the breeze.  As the air moved faster, the clouds began to move once more and cover the moon.  The light began to fade.  

Use the power you know you have. The moonlight flickered one last time.

As the clouds finally blocked the silvery rays, her shape fell into a puddle of shadow, ran along the floor, enveloping him in her grace and gentleness, and finally rippled out of the room into the night.  The wind died out.  

Tom sat on the floor, trembling, tears in his eyes.  He wept until the light of morning pierced the house.

A Preview of What's to Come

Tom Stratton sat looking at the home on the hillside. In the dimming evening light, he could just perceive the details of its structure, giving subtle and warm life to its outline.  As the sun dipped below the tree line, the home began to vanish into the warm night air.  It was a special place, indeed.

Tom was an ordinary man, who did extraordinary things.  For fifteen years he had been a United Nations Relief Worker in some of the most besieged and strife-ridden parts of the globe.  From the middle east to Central America, he had spent nearly half his life helping those whom without him had next to nothing.  Tom never allowed his work to infiltrate his ego; in all things, he was level headed and kind.  He took pleasure in helping those less fortunate.

Throughout his experiences in conflict-ravished nations, Tom had always had one major responsibility.  He, along with a number of others like him, had always lead civilians and children out of combat zones.  After Desert Storm, he helped treat wounded Kuwaiti citizens; In Chechnya, he helped evacuate civilians from Grozny during the Russian siege.  Through all of this, he had seen the cost of human greed and hunger for power.  He was a wiser man because of it.

After fifteen years of helping those without hope, he felt it was time to stop--at least for now.  He had no doubt that he would return to his work one day; yet there comes a point when in helping others, oneself can be left neglected.  This is why Tom bought the house.

The next day he scribbled his signature on the deed, and felt the jingle of the keys as they dropped into his palm. 

This I Believe (Final)

     I believe in the transformative power of scientific knowledge. In the renewal that comes from discovering the world around us. In the breathtaking sense of wonderment and awe which follows the simple act of asking.

     Science is something which our society has all too often scorned. Most think that science is meant to stay in the classroom, an area of study far to abstract to have any meaning in our daily lives. The average person is generally hesitant, leaving ‘that sort of thing’ to the quirky, eccentric scientist. Yet society could not be farther from the truth. Science is everywhere. It pervades our very existence, linking us to the past, the future, and everything around us. Scientific thinking is the foundation of our existence. From the moment we are born, we are asking questions, doubting, seeking answers, and looking for new ways to test our preconceived notions. Whether newborn, Newton, or Einstein this inquisitive nature has been one of the most fundamental and defining aspects of what it means to be human. While throughout history the asking of questions has been scorned by religious and political authorities, never has the insurmountable spirit of creativity and curiosity been snuffed out. To ask questions and seek answers is the very wood upon which the fire of the human spirit burns.

     The journey of seeking and understanding has, and will continue to, transform not only our understanding of the world around us, but also our society as a whole. Humanity is, and always has been, plagued by jealousy, superstition, vanity and narrow-mindedness. Yet ask anyone in the sciences, and you will soon realize that these petty, vain instincts begin to melt away as one uncovers more and more about the universe in which we live. Along the path of knowledge, slowly but surely, one is forced to shed the yoke of egocentrism and face the ultimate fact that we are all gears in a grand cosmic machine. Each of us, no matter how old or young, is an integral part of the universe in which we live. The atoms and fundamental building blocks of matter which compose everything we see and touch, including ourselves, trace their lineage back to a cosmic origin. As Jill Tarter puts it, “we are, all of us, what happens when a primordial mixture of hydrogen and helium evolves for so long that it begins to ask where it came from.”

     Some may say that ignorance is bliss, but I say the opposite. I say that ignorance is bondage--bondage to generations of petty, selfish conflict which may prove too much for our society to handle. I believe in the power which comes from looking at the world through a much more detailed perspective. I believe that, above all, knowledge and curiosity will set you free. I believe that, in order guarantee our survival, we must all strive to indulge our natural curiosity and never be afraid to seek what lies beyond--whether that be beyond the next hill, mountain, ocean, or galaxy. Ultimately, we must live or lives with a careful consciousness of our fellow man, seeking ways in which we can help those around us. It is imperative that we shed our sense of self-entitlement, and realize that we are all part of the same universe. That universe spins slowly and beautifully around us, and no matter who we are, we are all on this journey together. So take a moment to ask a question. Find something that amazes you. Then seek the answer.