Recently, I have been made aware, in nearly every facet of my life, that this is true.  Everyone seems to put more stock in what appears to be true instead of what is true.  What’s worse, is they actually know it most of the time, but it is to their advantage to act as if it is not.  It is really about one simple thing: Power.

You have heard the phrase, “Knowledge is Power,” I am certain.   It is true, for the most part.  I have found that the long phrase was probably more like, “If you can make someone believe something is true, whether or not it is, you can control them.  That Knowledge is Power.”  I have that knowledge, but I also have something else that prevents me from using it.

I have a Code of Honor.  That code prevents me from using my abilities, no matter how adept at them I have become, for anything that will benefit me at the expense of another.  This has cost me in my career, in my failed marriage, in my life as a whole, but I do not regret it.  I have friends that I can trust that I would not have had without my Code.

The problem is that there are many out there that do not have a Code.  Or, at least not as restrictive as mine. And those people are perfectly willing to stifle others growth to make themselves stronger.  To harm others for personal gain.  Personally, it offends me, but in the Information Age, a Code seems as outdated as the abacus and useful in almost as many situations.  Still, I have it and it is highly unlikely I will get rid of it.

A friend once told me that once you can fake sincerity, you can fake anything.  I believe that this is a true statement.  It is also true that if you lie with the dogs, you will catch fleas.  Nothing against your dog, of course.  I am referencing the wild ones – the ones out in the world where the nasty stuff is.  The strays that you are afraid of.  That is until your lies and deceit make you one of them.

I guess I am just voicing dark frustration at the world we live in.  It angers me, disturbs me and makes me want to get on a ship and sail off into the black, leaving all this behind.  I know I can’t do that, as I am trapped here like the rest of you, trying to make my way.

Lost and hungry in the woods, everyone is trying to find a safe shelter where they cannot be harmed, willing to do anything to be the one who gets the cave to themselves instead of taking less and sharing the cave with the rest of us.  Instead, they make us all fight for the scraps because we are not willing to be ruthless.  It is hard, sometimes, not to just take it from them.  To abandon my noble heart, be the villain of the story and prosper.  It is tempting…

Anyway, I am nearing the end of the story now, so bear with me.  Let me finish with story, then, that will sum up how I am feeling.   Many years ago, more than I care to tell, a friend of mine wrote a story and asked me to read it.  I did.  And I have been forever changed.

I remember it mostly now, as an idea, so I may not get it correct now.  Forgive me, Leon, as I butcher it in summary.  The important thing in this story is that he chose to put me in as the main character, and it hit me hard.  Sometimes, I sit and brood and think of this story.

As it ends, so does this blog entry.  I hope you enjoy it.

There was a man that had found himself in a barbaric world that was not his own.  He was not a fighter, scholar or scientist, but a simple story teller on the world he had come from.  The only way to survive was to tell stories to the barbarians in hopes that they would not kill him.

Our setting for this excerpt was this man’s home, sitting with his friends over a glass of wine discussing life.  His friends noticed him brooding over his wine glass and asked him what was going on with him.  With great coaxing and the freeing spirits in his glass, he let them in on the fact that the stories they had read about traveling to the barbaric world of his stories were true, and how he had survived in the world he had been sent to with the stories that they had all read.

They told him how the trip was very fruitful for him,  as the books he had written on the adventures where netting him many benefits.  They laughed, mostly at him, not believing him.  He nodded his head and raised his glass, then tilted it to his lips to drain it.  He sat in silence, watching his friends.

They goaded him for awhile, and made jokes about how he is such a great story teller.

He continued to brood.

This went on for sometime, while he just sat staring at the empty glass, until one of them finally asked him, “So, I must ask.  How did you finally get back from that horrible place?”

He raised his head, and after a long silence, he addressed them.

“I didn’t”, he said grimly, “I’m still here.”