Creation: A conversation between Maker and Made By Joshua Fielding (Manifesto)

Creation:

A Conversation Between Maker and Made

By Joshua Fielding

I sit on the precipice. As the gaping maw of that which is discarded and forgotten seems to cling with tendrils of gravity to my weary, ragged feet. In hopes that someday I will join its dark sunken pit of that which it is. I ponder for a moment. Then turn to my creator. Sitting there as if he’s been waiting for me to ask what I am about to ask, “Why don’t you intervene?” “Why is it that you wait?” “While the world festers and broils? Wars raging, hatred growing, death surmounting?” Anger begins to permeate throughout my being as I continue, “You claim you love us? You claim to be the creator of this existence? Then why don’t you control it?” “Why create champions instead of change?” “Why don’t you do something!?” I start to scream, “If you love your creations why would you allow them to suffer?!” “Why not give them solace and protection!? WHY!!!?” The air is tinted red. The silence is deafening. My creator sits there, Eye contact maintained. Seconds drag on as my panting breaths count their passing. My creator sits gazing. Not with anger in his eyes, or even the sick, twisted glee I had expected. But somehow a mix of sadness and pride. Not a wounded pride, but a proudness, I imagine, that one often seeks or hopes to gain from a parent. He sits there a second more before calmly replying, “That anger of yours, is why…” He stands to get up and beckons for me to follow. I do it with hesitancy, embarrassment, and confusion. We walk through a field. The green, shaggy grass swaying in the wind and underfoot. We don’t walk far before my Creator, robes swaying, stops and bends down on his haunches, seemingly to observe something. I stop next to him and bend down in the same manner, to observe what had made him stop. In front of us: There, in the shin-high grass, stood a single, white flower in a small clearing of dirt, about the size of a soup bowl. The flower was beautiful, as far as aesthetics go, however the stem was noticeably short and stubby for the almost laughable size of the blossom. I’m left in curiosity as my creator asks, “Tell me, what would happen if I pulled the blossom up?” I look at him confused by the question, as he continues, “The stem seems too short and the blossom seems too big. Aesthetically most would find that this flower would probably look more elegant if it had a longer stem, so what would happen if I pulled the blossom up? Would that make it grow a longer stem? Would it even survive the procedure?” I respond with a sheepish, “N- No. You’d just be plucking the head off the flower.” 

“Precisely!” He says excitedly. “Logically, if you want a longer- anything, you stretch it, you pull it until it’s longer. But while logically, in my mind, that should work, I don’t. Because I am not this flower. I have never even been a flower. Why would I know what’s best for it, if I am not it?” I see his point but I’m still angered by what feels like a blatant disregard of responsibility. “But you’re the creator. You made the flower, if it’s broken, or deficient, shouldn’t it be your responsibility to fix it? Especially when you have the power to fix it?!” 

“Who said the flower was broken?” he replies, I’m silent. " He moves to lay on his stomach, gazing at the flower, “It is true. I did create the flower. Took me many tries to get it just right. And though this one’s a little slow, it’s functioning exactly as I hoped it would. And though you can’t hear it, it seems to be reasonably content with its existence… Well, save for me implying that being taller is superior.” He leans in closer to the flower and whispers, “My apologies, I did not mean anything by it.” I notice how He gazes at the flower with that same look of sadness and pride that he did with me. He notices my gaze. And stands up from his resting position, “I know your struggles. I know how confused you must be… I witness all my creations go about their days and the hardships they face. I am not blind to them…” 

“Then why don’t you make things better? Or Intervene!” I beg hopelessly.

“Is it healthy for a parent to protect their child when that child grows into their 40’s?” he replies.  I pause for a second. He continues, “Is it healthy for a parent to dictate every aspect of their child’s life and force a prolonged existence upon them that that child didn’t ask for?” He continues, each pause becoming shorter in succession,  “Is it healthy for a parent to control what hobbies their child should enjoy, what passions they should pursue, what emotions are acceptable to feel and which ones are wasted garbage?” I stand there in silence. “Even now, the anger you feel towards me, the confusion of this whole existence, I welcome it all.” I look up to meet his gaze, “Not because I relish in it, but because that anger comes from you. Your own soul. Your own experiences and hardships. It has helped shape you hand-in-hand with moments of Joy, sadness, and despair. With every event that transpires in your life, you’ve made decisions and choices that have led to your growth, your successes and failures alike. Every one of those decisions, dictated by an emotion, a fear, a piece of knowledge you gained from a past experience. And after that decision is made, so comes the next experience, which requires another decision, which creates another experience.” He pauses, catching his breath I start to feel a couple gentle drops of what appears to be rain, after this observation he continues, “On and on and on. Till death and as you’ve seen even beyond death do things continue. Monuments built, accounts told, tragedies honored, all of it continues on.” The rain starts to come down a bit heavier, but the conversation continues, “And now we return to the question: ‘why don’t I intervene?’” I’m listening intently. “It’s true I have power. I have abilities beyond this plain of existence. And you’re right, if something was wrong with my creation, I would fix it. But the fact of the matter is, every creation I have ever made is functioning how I hoped they would!” I’m confused, to which he replies, “You’re learning. You’re growing. You’re always in a constant state of becoming! The only thing I ever created was a world for you to learn from and grow in. And make your own! I don’t create champions, champions create themselves. Saviors do it not because they’re asked to but because they want to!” The rain storm has become deafening at this point. “I created a basis and a beginning! How your individual life turns out, I entrusted that part to you! No parent can ever even begin to imagine who their child will become! But they can provide opportunities! Experiences and perspectives! None of it is proven fact but all of it is learned truth! The parent’s truth! Your experience will be different from mine, and that’s okay! You’ll be angry and frustrated with me and that’s okay! Because in the end I’m proud of you! I’m saddened by every hard thing you’ll have to go through- Everything you have gone through! But I know that if I try to protect you from all those things, keep you locked up in a place where you will never get hurt, you will die before ever fully being born!” The rain starts to ease and the sun starts to peak in through the clouds. And my creator starts to step towards me, “You would never know hardship, but you would never know joy either. To fear death is to love life. To feel betrayal is to know love.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You do not read a story just for the beginning. Or keep a person around for their introduction. You experience the story because you want to see how it ends. The beginning is meaningless, histories have shown that dictating a person’s worth or value the hour after they’re born does not dictate a set path into the future, but what happens along the way. What choices are made, that is why I don’t intervene.” He puts both hands on my shoulders and looks straight in my eyes. “That is what it means to create! Ships are created to sail but their creator’s are not always prepared for when they sink. Geniuses come up with a prospective idea but they have no complete comprehension of the future their idea will bring about… I can’t dictate your future. I can only offer you every chance and resource to grow and develop. But in order to make that happen. You must accept that You… and you alone, are responsible for your own decisions and the benefits and consequences that arise from those decisions. Not every event that you experience will be your fault, much less every decision you make will go your way. But know that everyone of my creations is temporary in some form. Every good moment becomes a wondrous memory, every harmful paradigm in the world eventually falls. All for the hope that something better can be allowed to flourish and develop…” He gestures to the flower, “That flower does not need me to make it taller, or me to intervene. It already has everything it needs to become better the way it deems fit. All I can do is check up on it. Give it food and water if I have it or I choose to give it. But, Its journey- its existence, is for it to decide. I’m a creator, not a dictator.” he chuckles at the last sentence. I look down feeling so many things. Anger, frustration, sadness, and excitement. But at the center of it all a soft little warmth. “He’s right…” It whispers. My creator continues, “I created all of my creations with the purpose that they would go on to create themselves. Not just objects or trinkets to fill their worlds, but to create experiences, memories, connections, their own opportunities, and most importantly; the kind of person they want to be. All of this” He gestured to the surrounding landscape, “…is created by you.” he said, as he pointed to my heart. 

One thing weighed on my mind, “If that’s what was intended… Shouldn’t it be easy? If I have everything I need, why does it feel like I’m so powerless to change anything?” He gave a sad look. A look that felt as if, he understood the same weighted feeling I felt, “Sometimes… it can be a number of things…” He paused, “Fear, I think namely… Fear of what we don’t know, Fear of our own inability, Fear of who we’re told we are as a person. Lies and deceptions, given to us by the paradigms and people of our lives that don’t know us…” He gripped my shoulders gently to which I gaze back at his face, “Fear has a place in survival, not in creation. All the things we are told to fear are ideas and concepts that can exist in our lives, but sometimes, rarely ever come to pass. Be aware of yourself and consequences so as to navigate your life, but don’t let fear chain you to it. All unhealthy decisions and limits are brought about by fears we don’t face or recognise in ourselves. Face your fears, Face the world. Okay?” I look down and reply like a shy kid, “Okay…” “AttaBoy!” he replies, ruffling my hair like a father to son, to my chagrin. “C’mon, we better head back!” My creator says gesturing back to home, “We got a lot to do…!”

The End…?

Personal Manifesto: (Finally…)

By Joshua Fielding

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Fear fuels survival, not creation.

Hardship is the true shaper of souls.

Parenthood is the ultimate form of creation.

Events and decisions are the parents of Experience.

 Champions aren’t created, champions create themselves.

The goal of every creator is for their creation to outgrow them.

A blind man sees more through his limits than a man without them.

All forms of creation are temporary, all results of creation are inherited.

To be a parent is to know nothing but sadness and pride in your creation.

To know what is wrong with ourselves, is to know what is wrong with the world.

To know hardship, is to know joy

 To fear death is to love life.

To feel betrayal is to know love.

To know the intent of a creation is easy, To know the result is unknowable.

Creators only create beginnings, it is life that shapes the endings.

To face our fears is man's true method of changing the world.