JUNE 1, 2023 – We humans are expert at treating life as one big experiment. We often talk about our country that way, as in, the “Great American Experiment,” which, if any aspect of our lives is an experiment, our construct of a nation-state certainly is. In a scientific context, experiments originate from hypotheses, but in the broader scheme of things, experiments generally flow from ideas—crazy, creative, and controversial—but more often, from necessity. Life is more than an idea, of course, but it too compels us to experiment, sometimes to our detriment but mostly to our benefit.
This blog was launched as an experimental journey into unknown space: how long would I sustain the daily discipline? What focus would develop? Who would board my experimental spacecraft? Who would ride the distance? Who would jump on and off and back on? Who would endure my blog flaws only until the next stop?
As it turns out, I’ve strapped myself in so securely as to be one with the ship. Where the spaceship goes, so go I, or more accurately, where I go, so the blog follows. Now that I’m closing in on the rings of Saturn, I can’t steer back to the launch pad. I can, however, view life retrospectively. In fact, after one passes life’s midpoint, retrospective views eventually dominate one’s perspective—except when turbulence of the moment demands immediate attention, as in, “When’s my next medical appointment?” or “Before the week is out, will Congress destroy my retirement savings?”
I think this journey junction, which I call the “Geezer Point,” is where one’s inspiration can fade. This is problematic. Inspiration is the fuel that drives experimentation, and experimentation is what propels one’s spaceship. Without continuous propulsion, the ship succumbs to entropy until it stagnates and tumbles into reverse.
Thus arises an imperative to develop and maintain sufficient reserves of inspiration to keep the experiments going. The cool thing about inspiration is that it can be internally generated, but the more reliable method is interaction with the world, where ideas meet and mingle, clash and coalesce.
One recent example of inspiration in my own little life was a message from my oldest sister, which read in pertinent (parenthetical) part, “(Hey! That reminds me: Now that presumably all the people are deceased, whose decease was necessary for you to publish your Inheritance memoir, have you plans for its publication??)”
The “Inheritance” reference is to a “book” I wrote about my maternal grandparents, mother and uncle (Bruce). It fills 450 pages (edited to the halfway point) . . . and counting, because I haven’t quite finished it. I assure you, the story is far more alluring than, “Grandpa was born on May 30, 1895 . . . He went to school in . . .” It opens with this sentence:
If I weren’t the storyteller, I wouldn’t believe this story. So far, no one who has heard it believes it, except Cliff, who has survived the most critical parts of it, and my sisters, because I’ve told them everything and they themselves have lived enough of the story to know I’m not exaggerating or making stuff up.
The inspiration provided by my sister’s email triggered an idea for an experiment: posting a few excerpts from my Inheritance on this blog for readers to sample. Based on your reactions, I can better gauge how much effort should be applied to the story’s broader publication.
Stay tuned. The price of admission is free.
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
