Writing

Anne Rice stirs my imagination like no other writer so far. Her books on Vampires have got an iron-grip on my imagination. Her narration of these creatures of the night have set my fingers ploughing through her yellowed pages. Her suggestion and seeming believe of an existence of an immortal but damned eternity seduces me like no other; how else could she have been able to sketch such vivid scenes for my starving imagination to feast on. Their imagined smell of blood, the glassy and cold skin, their stories -- Anne Rice makes it so easy to believe that they are real.

In one interview, Louis the Vampire told the tale of his life in such vivid details to a reporter. In one book, I began wondering what it was if mortals were given such interviews instead. What would you say? How would you say it, for that matter? While it's likely that becoming a Vampire affords you much preternatural attributes, and surely an unsurpassed capacity of awareness and memory are in order; the biting question I faced was one concerning the very nature of life, or supernatural life in this case.

It seemed to me that with or without these attributes, much of our memories are the products of active choice. I'm quite convinced that if you want to remember, you will eventually, somehow. Human limitations aside, I'm quite sure that most potential memories don't even make it past the initial stages of observation and information acquisition. How seldom it was that we paid such attention to the things around, within and after us that we could phrase emotions in words and capture feelings and thoughts in reasoning and argument. But how quick we are to react to the prick of discomfort, disturbances and dissonance.

Could it have been a question of skill and practice? I do believe so. After all, self-awareness is innate, but practiced selectively. How quick this skill responds to the toll of defence and preservation, but yet slow to the more subtle call of reason and arguments. Seems to me, that with time and growing comforts, we begin also to grow in us a vagueness and detachment towards details, even towards life itself. Yet at the same time, we're sharpening the tack of our egotism, driving it into every soft spot we can, establishing a new 'my space'.

Louis the immortal was tormented by his mortal nature. His human soul had been trapped in a transforming Vampire body. Questions, longing, guilt, detachment, hunger... Confusion. Aren't we much the same way? Except that while we frequently run and hide, suppressing our inner demons, Louis could do little to hide, especially since he was now like the demon's bastard child. Run for an eternity? I don't think so.

Does searching and a desire to know make a person wise? This is a tricky situation. A person could search, and not find. For that matter, he could search and find, and still not be wise. Could detachment be a manifestation of wisdom? Louis seemed to have learned a lot through his internal and external witchhunts for the truth in order to come to terms with his unplanned immortality. He learned to be detached, and yet still feel his emotions rage within his wretched shell on issues concerning his humanaliity. Given his experiences, dare someone in his shoes be considered wise? For that matter, by what do we judge wisdom and it's value? Could it be a virtue? Surely, we can't discount the possibility of there being a person who is wise, and yet at the same time immoral because he can be. Though we condemn people in these positions to names like 'craft', 'sly', 'cunning' or 'evil', can we not admit that they are still clever and to a large extent wise? How else would they have had the advantage over us that we so loath?

And so now, I'm beginning to wonder about my desire to strive towards wisdom... Like sailing in the night sky, a black ocean marked by stars, vague guidelines and obstacles; where are we to head? Our characters are a key determinant on how we navigate this life; what then constitues our characters? Could it have been given to us, thrust into our mortal shells without a choice otherwise? Could it have been chosen by us right at the very start, and we're only beginning now to discover who and what we really are? That could explain the internal conflicts we frequently face, but this implies that we're likely to have some kind of a character 'destiny'. Choice and character... one influencing the other. So many questions that concern what I am now, and where it brings me, and how I ought to be...

In spite of these questions, doubts and suspicion, my mind is still calm, perhaps in the knowledge of commitment -- a belief that there will always be a truth, which is an aspect of the truth. And I am the eternally roving spiritual hand that seeks out the next piece of the puzzle. Regardless of the ultimate picture or purpose of completing the puzzle, I intend to keep searching yet determined never to stop.



JKLM