WHEN DID MAN OBTAIN A SOUL?
Not much writing news to report. I’ve got two short stories making the rounds and a novel, The Beast Awaits, which I’m trying to publish. So until something positive happens I’ll share some of my musings. Here’s a light subject for you.
WHEN DID MAN FIRST OBTAIN A SOUL?
I have been thinking of this topic for some time now. At what stage in his evolution did man first possess a soul?
If you do not give the existence of evolution any credence, you can stop reading now. As a scientist I find the evidence in favor of evolution undisputable. So as what was to become modern man journeyed along his evolutionary ladder, when was he given a soul.
To possess a soul should require some higher form of mental activity. To be aware of self, to be able to reason, to be involved in functions that go beyond the rudimentary activities of existence, to be aware of a greater being – all theses factors would seem to be necessary. I am, of course, not a philosopher and would welcome the opinions of others on this topic.
As anyone reading this blog knows, I am now a science fiction writer. Years ago I decided to write a story about Neanderthals. The title was The Superior Species and was published by Aphelion in 2007. I plan to share this story with you on my blog in a day or two. During the course of writing that story I did a great deal of research on their abilities and intelligence. Do you know that the size of their brain was twice that of modern man? They created artwork and probably able to speak, or at least make sounds.
Neanderthals have fascinated me ever since writing that story. I recently learned that they cooked plant food along with their assumed diet of meat. They were also aware of the medicinal properties of the plants they used. It also appears that they cared for their sick and buried their dead.
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2012/07/120718131348.htm
Neanderthals could obviously think. Did they have a soul? They were a dead-end branch in the development of Homo sapiens and we picture them as brutish mimics of ourselves.
But how much did they share with us.
OBSERVATIONS AND OPINIONS
THE INFINITY OF LIFE
To enter the structure of an organ is to enter a world of vasculature and cell types striving to fulfill a function to keep their host alive.
But to enter on of its cells is to enter the journey of the infinite, the soup of life ever at work. Processes occurring at lightning speed not all fully understood.
The end result can be life-giving or fatal.
Such is work of the cell.
Such is the thin thread of our life.
HARUKI MURAKAMI
HARUKI MURAKAMI
My consistent readers,
For the record, I am back in the saddle and have submitted two short stories and am working on publishing my novel, The Beast Awaits. While I wait for any of my efforts to bear fruit, I thought I’d share with you some of my favorite living authors and encourage you to read their work. My first author is Haruki Murakami.
Haruki Murakami was born in 1949, making him two years younger than me. How did he accomplish so much? I’m just kidding, he worked damn hard. That’s how he did it.
Murakami is a Japanese author and I have been reading his work for years. I look for him to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. His stories are about the basic Japanese, yet most of his stories have a haunting quality, a feeling of fantasy.
If you want an introduction to his writing, I suggest reading Kafka on the Shore or The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. When you begin these works you will fall into a world of Japanese culture. Eventually, the fantasy will begin. When you emerge from the novel, you will be in a state of satisfaction, yet mystified. I encourage you to take the journey.
REVIEW SPELLBOUND
My consistent readers,
SPELLBOUND2011, an anthology published by Melange Books, has recently been reviewed. I have a story in the anthology, Mansion of Nightmares.
I hope the review whets your appetite for making a purchase.
http://compelledbywords.blogspot.com/2012/06/anthology-review-spellbound-2011.html
THE PASSING OF RAY BRADBURY
THE PASSING OF A GIANT
As a writer of science fiction, I felt a profound sadness today with news of the death of Ray Bradbury at the age of 91.
Not long ago my science fiction reading group read Fahrenheit 451, one of his most popular works. I had read it when I was much younger, and now attempting to write science fiction, was in awe of the quality of the writing. He also, as many science fiction writers do, invented devices for his story that exist today.
What prompted me to write this little piece was my wife. I told her of his death and she said, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sure all of us that have enjoyed his work feel sorrow at his passing.
UPDATE
UPDATE
My consistent readers,
I thought I’d touch base after some of disturbing medical update I’ve recently shared. For the most part, I’m back to normal. I’m feeling fine although I am one enough pills that I could open up my own pharmacy, but as time goes by the number should diminish.
As far as my writing is concerned, I’m working on a new short story and a novella featuring Elmo. Elmo has already appeared in a novella published by Melange Books in their anthology, Curious Hearts. I’ve also submitted two short stories for which I am still awaiting a reply and a host of poems which have all been rejected.
I’ll keep in touch. I hope you will too.
OBSERVATIONS & OPINIONS
OBSERVATIONS & OPINIONS
I’ve decided to combine two of my categories because of was wrong in giving them a separated existence, happens. How can you have an opinion unless you first observe a subject? How can you observe something and your mind remain empty? Here’s the first installment under the new heading.
NEWS
I have always been a news junkie, but for sometime now I have been aware of a growing lack of news reported while the lengths of the broadcasts continue to lengthen. I won’t even get into the constant errors the talking heads of our local new here in Philadelphia make. They sail right along without blinking an eye while I cringe in dismay.
The local stations now manage to pack maybe fifteen minutes worth of new in one hour. The rest of the time is taken up with what the latest celebrities are up to. What the station will be showing for the rest of the night. This exposure reinforces my reasons for not watching television programming. They also must give the weather three times until they finally give a forecast.
As readers of my blog know, I’ve had some medical problems recently. During this experience I had little opportunity to watch the news. I’ve grow distant from the mind-numbing hours I once spent before listening to drivel. If I do watch news it is only the national news.
There are times when I think back to my youth and the news was really the news. I suppose it was back in the fifties when the local news began at 6:30 at night and ran until 6:45, and then the national news took over from 6:45 until 7:00.
While I have, for the most part, abandoned news of TV I still stay in touch with newspapers and news magazines. I still want to know what’s going on but I’m trying to be a bit more selective.
With my ever growing new attitude toward the new, I’m reminded of a song from Simon and Garfunkel’s album, Bridge Over Troubled Water, one of my all-time favorite albums.
The song’s title, ‘The Only Living Boy in New York’. The line from the song that I find most appropriate for my new state of mind is, ‘I can gather all the news from the weather report’. I think that says it all.
UPDATE MEDICAL
My consistent readers,
As I told you recently, I had bypass surgery in March, spent ten days in the hospital and went home feeling pretty good. But that didn’t last very long. I began going downhill fast.
There is a ‘rare’ side effect of surgery call Dressler’s Syndrome where your immune system goes wacky and decides to vent its rage on your body. The syndrome results in inflamed joints, fluid around the lungs or perhaps fluid around the heart. My immune system must have been really pissed and decided to give me all three. Back to the hospital for another ten day
I’m home now and hope to get my writing back in full gear.
I must say that this whole experience has been quite strange for me. I have never spent a night in the hospital before. All during my care I felt I was watching someone else deal with all the efforts to determine and cure all my maladies. But when they began the IVs or drew blood I was brought back to reality.
MEMOIR
It’s been some time since I wrote this piece.
I came across a contest for ‘late bloomers’ asking for an article to be published in an anthology.
As most of you writers well know, you submit and never hear from the publisher, even after repeated queries about the status of your piece.
I now share this unpublished work with you, my consistent readers.
NEVER TOO LATE
By
Walt Trizna
I have been a late-bloomer all my life. The following article will prove that to be true. If you also fall into this category, or have yet to bloom, read my story and know there is always hope as long as you persevere.
Spending thirty-four years as a scientist, I never felt totally comfortable. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the work; I did. I found it difficult to share the enthusiasm of those working around me. However, I do feel a great sense of accomplishment for what those years produced. Now that segment of my early life is over.
I was a late-bloomer in marriage. At the age of thirty-six, when I married, most of my contemporaries were well into their first or perhaps second marriage. Now twenty-eight years later I find the wait was worth it for I found the perfect woman to share my life.
The primary focus of this article, however, is my current career as a writer. Looking back, I had the stirrings early in my life to follow that dream. But my environment and need for security won out and the yearning diminished but never died.
My first attempt at writing was in high school. A poem of mine was published in an anthology of high school writers and I knew I was on the road to becoming the next Robert Frost, whose poetry I adored. I continued writing poetry for approximately twenty-five years while in college, in the military and pursing my career in science. The result of my efforts was more than twenty-five poems published in anthologies and newspapers. During this phase of my writing addiction I made one dollar, a token of gratitude from a woman who enjoyed one of my poems. I am not known as a big spender, but even I would have a struggle living on four cents a year.
Toward the end of my twenty-five year poetry endeavor, I married and had two daughters. Actually, I continue writing poetry to this day. Each of my daughters gets a poem on her birthday recapping that year in their life. That tradition began when they were two and will continue until my writing career comes to a close.
Now as I approach my sixty-fourth year, I am a fulltime writer. Eleven years ago I began to write short stories of horror and science fiction. In this career I think of myself more as a bud than a bloom. I shall only bloom with the nourishment of the public.
I have published over twenty horror and science fiction short stories. When I write science fiction I try to use as much science fact as I can in order to make the story chilling with an air of possibility. I have also written three novels, one was published by Mélange Books when I was in my early sixties, one is now seeking a home and one still needs to grow some.
I have made little money, but at this stage of my career, that is of little importance. What warms my heart is when people read my words and find momentary escape from this confusion we call life.
Do I enjoy writing? That is a question I constantly ponder. I have a vivid imagination, ideas race through my mind. When it comes to sitting down before a blank tablet with pencil in hand, the enjoyment I experienced with imagery is tinged with a hint of anxiety in the effort of putting those images into words. Only when the piece is finished can I relax and savor a sense of accomplishment.
Now comes the effort to try and get the story published. Once again euphoria slams against the brick wall of reality. There are times when recognition comes quickly, but more often it takes years for a publisher to find value in my words. I have stories that have yet to see the light of publication, but I keep trying.
Have I reached to stage to refer to myself as a late-bloomer? I feel more like a ripening bud that will hopefully bloom before it shrinks and dies.
UPDATE NEW PUBLICATION
My consistent readers,
Two new stories can come your way for only 99 cents.
Cat’s Eyes and Second Chance were recently published by Books to Go Now.
So far the stories are only available on amazon.com, but that should change soon.
When the stories are available on the Books to Go Now website, if you don’t have a nook or kindle you can have them delivered to your computer in pdf format.
Let me know if you enjoy these stories.
