Actions Have Outcomes – Digging into the Soil of Life

Spring, for me, means planting. On this topic, there is a treasure trove of technical and intuitive gardening information to discuss. While I’ve absorbed a fair share, I’m not tackling that beast for this entry. Instead, I feel compelled to share what I love most about gardening . . . drum roll please . . . the process.

Sure, gardening is a stress reliever, delivers good exercise, and enables you to feed delights to your family – both visual and culinary. And there’s an undeniable joy to smelling good earth after a rainstorm. But in a world of digital digression, exacerbated with moments of feeling stuck on a phantasmal merry-go-round, I am rescued from despair by a lesson from my garden: actions have outcomes. Seems obvious right? And yet, how often do I succumb to digital nirvana only to wake after an hour goes by and ask – what the hell just happened? I get this “dirty” feeling, a self-guilt far worse than the grimiest recess in my garden. Please avoid the lurid conclusions. Yes, that Content is pervasive on the Internet, and hey, I’m a guy – happily married with children – but still a guy. Curiosity and an open mind are healthy human traits. So, putting aside those distractions, the feeling I’m struggling to convey is one of life passing me by while I run like a hamster on the treadmill.

There are online interactions that are worthy, humorous, social, informative . . .  I acknowledge these positives. The problem is striking the balance. Our minds crave data. This is concurrently our great strength and our weakness. It takes effort and time to sort through a seemingly infinite field of electronic Content, and the few actions we take in the digital realm rarely have outcomes that we can predict, let alone recognize when they manifest. There is such a thing as too much connectivity, with too little impact. That largesse of other people’s stories, available with a finger swipe or keystroke, overwhelms us subconsciously, if not outright – paralysis by analysis. Or perhaps, it’s all too illusory, in that we think we have gotten somewhere only to glance askew at a mirror of empty dreams, and then turn away.  For who among us truly wants to stare into that abyss?

Little steps, joined together, inevitably produce results. Rather than being a voyeur, I jump into the fray. I stand, stretch and walk outside. The fresh air awakens my spirit. My garden is neither fancy, nor expansive, and I won’t win any prizes. The chicken wire needs fixing in places, and I have to constantly excise rotten wood in the raised beds and stakes. At night, I scrub the black soil from under my nails. My muscles ache with a soreness that is satisfying. My girls have become experts in removing my splinters. My thoughts alight with compost, companion plantings, succession crops, pest remedies and seed experiments. The preparation began in December. In February, seeds were ordered and pulled from my reserves. Then as March arrived, the clean-up hit me in earnest. Those days were cold, the wind raw and the weeds tenacious. I had cuts, thorns and reptile skin on my hands. I could sand wood with my palm, and that touch certainly wasn’t going to win over my wife. Early April saw pruning and mulch, and with the soil finally ready, I savored our seed choices. The girls had their favorites, too. I visualized the growth patterns and light sources, checked the day and overnight temperatures, and noted the weather forecast. Perennials that we had labored over last year began budding. Those ferns that seemed dead and gone . . . their fiddlehead fronds continue unfurling today. In a week, we should have vegetable sprouts poking through to the sun.

Slowly, taking these myriad tiny strides, our garden comes into awareness. There will be outcomes, both good and unexpected. There’s no “easy button” to push. Gardening is patient work. But the process harkens to everything else we do in life – actions have outcomes – and sometimes when I’m lost, I rejoice in the comfort and motivation of that simple wisdom.

Sir Richard Branson – Bravo!

As I continue to scan news coverage of the recent commercial spacecraft explosions – Virgin Galactic’s SpaceShipTwo prototype and Orbital Sciences’ Antares rocket mission to the International Space Station – I am trying to process our current societal incarnation without acquiescing to a profound dismay. Too many of our media sources are displaying an accusatory tone or a condescending “I told you so.” Is this pandering attack-dog mentality now the measure of what sells newspapers and digital content to a plethora of armchair experts? Alternatively, is the situation even worse? Have our pundits forgotten the days when boats were made of wood and men were made of iron; when the intrepid Amelia Earhart launched a flight that would elevate all people, as did our steadfast aim for the Moon during the Apollo years? Have such whispers shadowed the visionaries of “every” human era, or is the intensity of the “hue and cry” different this time? Disappointing as the pettiness and naysayers may be, I doubt these rumblings eclipse the inner voices of the courageous men and women who challenge history, for this rare breed grapples with far mightier opponents – foes such as death, impossible dreams, and human destiny.

Folks, you’re going to scratch the paint when you move mountains. I’m not suggesting that death isn’t a tragedy. It is under any circumstances. Yet, when we shatter the ordinary, when we dare to greatness, it is then that our collective spirit finds solace in acknowledging the tradeoffs inherent to that particular dice roll. Some goals are worth dying for, hopefully not needlessly, but no plan is without error. Imperfection is the very essence of “humanity.” Combine that practical reality with pilots and astronauts who are essentially riding mega-bombs, and yes, this activity qualifies as ultra-dangerous on any given day. Applying our typical media filters and overly litigious legal standards to this extreme endeavor is inappropriate. In part, that’s why government has heretofore been at the helm of Space ventures. I think nobody questions the presumption that the private sector can produce more efficient results, but ultimately, the incredible costs, technological advances, oversight authority, mission parameters, and the “astro-ethics” discussion should fall under the umbrella of government. As plagued with missteps and waste as that public path may be, I am convinced that no single company, individual or oligarchy should control these outcomes.

Would I attempt Space, however, if I were a billionaire several times over? Absolutely, and I say to Sir Richard Branson – BRAVO! Don’t be discouraged by the exodus of SpaceShipTwo tourists. Their romantic, fantasy-fueled adrenaline rush is cratering to one hell of a reality hangover: Space travel is a serious matter, vital and necessary, but still potentially lethal. Save the apologies. None are needed. Humanity’s future depends upon colonizing the stars, and I would see that future become the present. To have a direct impact on that achievement would be profoundly satisfying. Some of us in this existence find peace within, while others taste magic in a simple joy, and yet others are constantly questing beyond the horizon. I am one such person “cursed” with a curious and restless soul. I have a friend who views this nomadic trait as a singular flaw in human nature. I disagree, and leave it to a higher power to decide. Until then, my gaze tilts to the night sky and I wonder at that which awaits – our evolution and reorganization into a civilization that would shine light into the darkest corners of the Universe. A fundamental shift in our cognition and values will only be possible once we escape our terrestrial origin. I recognize that we’ll export our brand of human weakness to the stars – fear, hatred, doubt, jealousy, fanaticism – but over time, these frailties will wither into memory as our consciousness expands. The Age of Discovery never ended, and like an old friend coming up the walkway, one need only open the door to renew ties.

 

Smile When Your Child Says, “No.”

This past week, my inner voice drove me to abandon work and attend an afternoon lecture on “Free Will & Philosophy” given by a Philosophy Professor from a top University. As an aside, we all need to listen to those subtle instincts and energies that guide our paths. That’s a hard task for many… filtering the white noise of life to note signals in the system that have deeper personal meaning.

Returning to philosophy, the topic wasn’t quite what I expected, but it was nonetheless captivating. As a bonus, the Professor was entertaining, energetic and nimble. At one point, the presentation focused upon the Yale University Milgram Experiment on obedience: why seemingly normal people when put in the role of “teacher” (and encouraged by a lab-coated authority figure) will administer electric shocks to a “learner” test subject in another room even though they can hear the person screaming. Hold the objections, the electric shocks were faked. The learner responses were pre-recorded theatre to observe each teacher’s reaction. The Professor then mentioned another famous psychology experiment: the Stanford University Prison Study where ordinary people were randomly assigned roles of guards and prisoners. Guards were told to be firm, but their actions grew steadily more brutal. So much so, that the two week experiment was prematurely terminated after only six days.

Perhaps you are now asking “what do these studies have to do with my children or my parenting style?” The Professor viewed the discussion from a philosophical perspective of questioning Society’s idea of morals and blame, and whether we live in a deterministic clockwork world of no free will. This is an oversimplification for brevity, so my apologies to the good Professor. Still, why did more than 60% of the people in the classic Milgram Experiment keep shocking the learner subject until the occurrence of what might have been death or permanent injury, simply for a wrong answer? Why didn’t more people refuse the instruction, or acknowledge the desperate pleas (pre-recorded) of the learner subject? Did the teacher volunteer have free will or was another mechanism running the show? Well, such questions remain under avid scrutiny today, although there are several theories for the unexpected results. As you may have already guessed, I’m tossing out a proposal for you to consider, both as to your children and your parenting choices.

After the Professor’s formal presentation, I took the opportunity to ask questions (as did others). For a while, I listened to everyone… absorbing the ebb and flow. The Professor suggested that humans have a behavioral template that influences choice even when their actions have horrible effects. He posited that in a situation of conflicting data (i.e., I don’t like administering electric shocks that severely hurt a normal person, but the esteemed scientist standing over my shoulder calmly says to continue doing so), humans have a predisposition to obey the person that we think has more information or authority. This may stem from our early evolution, where snap decisions to follow the leader – a person appearing to have better data in a confusing situation – resulted in survival. Standing among the crowd circling the Professor, I agreed that this adaptive “Darwinian” strategy was a component to the equation, but my thoughts drifted to conclusions that would challenge that paradigm.

Before you ask for my academic credentials on such matters of the mind, the short story is “nothing formal.” I am a father, a fan of metaphysics, I believe in critical thinking, and my opinions rely on observation and theory. If that’s not enough, feel free to stop reading here.

As the conversation hit a lull, I asked the Professor, “Have you considered the implications of the Industrial Age public education model on the obedience found in the Milgram Experiment?” He seemed uncomfortable… there was a camera man filming the exchange… I waited, but was disappointed as his reply effectively dodged my question.

I wasn’t about to let the Professor off the hook. After another minute, I politely pressed, “Is it possible that the behavioral template evidenced in Milgram is being dramatically reinforced by our educational model of teacher/student that begins at pre-K? Teachers tell students they must sit down quietly, must memorize what is said, must study the knowledge presented and must be a productive worker/member in society.” I paused, and silence ensued. So, I fired away, “How often can students disagree with their teachers without receiving punishment or social stigma?” I really wanted to add mandatory prescription drugs for ADHD or similar en vogue behavioral disorders to the litany, but opening that door would have muddied the waters.

This time, the Professor launched a counterargument. He knew of a Milgram Experiment variation using test subjects in cultures without public education, and the results were essentially unchanged. Before I could ask him if the experiment’s designers had truly verified if they had a sampling with neither public education, nor a surrogate teacher/student learning system, he moved to another question… another philosophy twist.

I thought about his answer. While that study might have unexplored pitfalls in the analysis and conclusions, what would happen if I assumed for argument purposes that his Milgram variation had merit? This logic pushed my thoughts to another common factor that would reinforce such disturbing behavior. I again wedged my voice into the conversation, “Professor, what about the earliest form of education, the parent/child relationship? Those roles pre-condition an obedience template from birth that is not much different from teacher/student. Could our relatively modern parenting style, from the Victorian Era forward, which emphasizes discipline, respect, and obedience be unintentionally hard-wiring our children’s cognitive weakness?”

I could see him thinking about this… and the camera kept filming. Then, another audience member interrupted with a book reference to a related psychology topic, and after a moment, the Professor shifted to his core material, leaving my supposition dangling over the cliff in the company of Wile E. Coyote.

So, what’s my “takeaway” from this pleasant interlude of philosophical thought? I’m admittedly surprised at the outcome, though maybe I shouldn’t be: when you “select” the path, things happen.

Rather than knee-jerk disagreement or admonitions of impracticality, I hope that some of you will perceive the faint glimmer of light roiling against the darkness. To that end:

Life Lesson: Be open to letting your child explore asymmetrical or unconventional forms of education: apprenticeship, travel, homeschooling, independent study, art, experiential investigation, play, etc. Mainstream public education can be a positive (I have met teachers that give heart and soul to the kids), but as applied across the board in its lowest denominator, today’s public education is designed as a compliance oriented Industrial Age necessity for managing the masses, instilling societal programming and producing workers.

Life Lesson: From this point on, I will do my utmost to look beyond the surface when my child says “No,” whether it’s to me as a parent, to a teacher or to anyone. Safety concerns aside, I will encourage my child’s instincts, independence and critical analysis skills. I don’t want to produce another cog in the great wheel of Society. This approach won’t be easy, convenient, or peaceful. I will suffer a fair amount of impingement upon my existence to the extent that I freely choose to sacrifice my expectations for the sake of my child. Of course, it’s maddening to hear your child reject your direction, and there are certainly risks to encouraging a non-conformist model. But I’m going to reap the wind, and think of it in terms of a contemporary film metaphor:

Neo must awaken from the Matrix.

Extra Credit: anyone recognize the picture reference below?

The Soulstealer War – Finally on NOOK in E-Pub Format and Discounted!

There’s a master blacksmith at the NJ RenFaire who forges serious weapons… truly artistic and elegant battle steel. At our last few “hail and hearty” greetings, besides testing a blade or two, and chatting of things metal, he has asked me in earnest, “Bill, when will The Soulstealer War be available in E-Pub format?”

After much angst, of which I will spare everyone, you can now purchase The Soulstealer War on Nook in E-Pub format! This version is priced at a 50% discount from the hard copy… for a limited period.

As a reminder, my work remains available on Kindle, Amazon, B&N and at various independent shops.

My author “to-do” list now includes completing the Audiobook version, as well as the next installment of the series – The Soulstealer War: The Splintering Realm. Yes, I know folks expected this earlier… thus, let me part with simple words of wisdom from the esteemed poet Robert Burns:

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men, Gang aft agley…”

With gratitude,

W.L. Hoffman – breathe slowly, observe humbly, dream deeply and evolve.

All for RenFaire, and RenFaire for All!

Have no doubt, my friends, these are serious times. And for this reason, I have never been more appreciative of the revelry that converges at the NJ Renaissance Faire at Liberty Lake.  http://www.njrenfaire.com

This weekend my family strolled in costume among the RenFaire community, savoring the spontaneous interaction with the inhabitants of Crossford. The village welcomed me with a hearty “M’Lord,” and my daughters each garnered a gentle “M’Lady.” Indeed, Hallie and Hannah giggled uncontrollably upon discovering that the players bowed in their presence until released. “Rise, good sir,” had a pleasant lilt from the lips of my pre-teen princesses.

Hannah roamed the merchant stands with discerning and fickle taste, while her older sister marked treasures with practiced confidence. My girls opened their hearts and imaginations, and prepared for barter and baubles, as the townsfolk were ever-so-gracious in their dealings. To mention only some, is a disservice to the rest – we cherished them all.

Similarly, there are not enough words to adequately describe the amazing performers! Impromptu stage and troubadour skits, music and jest, song and rhyme, flames and daring acrobatics, archery and swordplay, a living chess match and fine spirits to imbibe… it was too much to absorb in a single outing.

My compliments to Phil Leipf as the villainous Comte de Rochefort, to Melissa L.E. Baker as his temptress co-conspirator Milady de Winter, and to Katie Horahan as the charming Duchess of Northumberland, and still, there are more notes of special attention…

 At mid-afternoon, we sheltered from a passing thunderstorm within the Willows Stage structure. Therein, my little girls were drafted by the Bard of Avon – William Shakespeare – as he organized an abbreviated and raucous audience participation version of “Twelfth Night and The Three Little Bears.” The good natured folks in the crowd were hilarious in their guided acting, and Will’s wit was sharper than all the nearby swords.

Thereafter, and harkening to the days of old, we experienced true artisanship. We stood spellbound at the forge of “Historical Glassworks,” as master glass blower Jason Klein crafted a Renaissance-style fluted wine decanter before our eyes. With absolutely no pressure from the onlookers, and between ample puffing breaths of creation, Jason explained his techniques, issued commands to apprentices, and orchestrated a delicate dance of molten glass.

Meandering away from that skillful glass menagerie, we happened upon a fearsome couple arrayed for the Zombie Apocalypse! They offered my daughters a copy of the Adventurer’s Handbook – a publication by TJ Miller and John A. Williams a/k/a The Lords of Adventure: Roger Awesome and Jack Bold. My girls boldly whispered to these armor-bound warriors that we owned two copies already, and then demurely asked if they would consent to pose for a picture.

After snapping the above cameo, we thought it wise to retreat to the jousting arena for our fill of knights, horses and chivalry. But along the way, we spied the Royal Falconer and his avian charges. Perched at rest, the birds were beautiful and majestic. During the falconry demonstration it was simply nature’s magic, as they soared aloft the entire encampment, banked a few feet over our heads, and launched talons-a-ready upon the Falconer’s twirling lure.

On our way back to the main amphitheatre, I was waylaid at “LaForge Weapons.” Sparks flew both in the blazing furnace and on the sturdy anvil. There were regal decorative weapons a’plenty, but I required a combat blade capable

of enduring full throttle impact – steel on steel. I selected a likely candidate off the rack and then asked the master smith if its edge would stay keen in hard battle. No words echoed in reply, though I think a slight growl ensued… he then gripped the sword from my hand, moved his anvil into position, bade me step back, and firmly struck the blade’s edge upon the anvil with not one, but three ringing blows. With a satisfed grin on his face, the weapon was returned for my inspection. I anticipated a chip given the enthusiasm of his test… I found not even the hint of a scratch.

At day’s end, the girls and I lounged at the Lakeside Amphitheatre enjoying a cornucopia of musicians and performers. I sipped a glass of cabernet-merlot courtesy of the Valenzano Winery. Within the hour, the primary acting Troupe escorted a horde of Faire-goers to our venue for the final reconciliation between D’Artagnon and Constance, and the Comte de Rochefort and Countess de Winter. Yes, as you may have guessed, regards to Alexandre Dumas, for this year’s RenFaire theme is the Three Musketeers. After due ceremonies, the players serenaded the crowd with a last ballad and a simple wish – that we may all be present to do this again. Amen. As I listened with Hallie and Hannah, I thought of my wife: she was absent from our festivities in order to comfort a dying friend of the family. My eyes blurred, and I thanked the powers-that-be for my blessings and the opportunity to share our day among such joyful and talented folk.

You can yet partake, for I’m told that the 2012 NJ Renaissance Faire will continue for at least one more weekend – June 9th and 10th. Failing that, perhaps it will be another worthy RenFaire in your home state. For let it be written and let it be said: we can all do with more laughter and love!

Humanity’s Epitaph: Space Colonization, Extinction, Jane Goodall and the Medieval Vikings

Recently, our family attended an evening program featuring a conversation with Dr. Jane Goodall. This graceful and passionate elder was a role model extraordinaire for my adolescent daughters. Dr. Goodall talked of humble beginnings, her family’s unwavering support, bold adventures and the future conservation of this ship we call “Earth.” What a “lived” life! We were fortunate that night to be accompanied by an ethnobotanist who personally knows Dr. Goodall. The after-lecture thoughts were profound and spicy, in contrast to the sleet frosting the streets of New Brunswick. I respected Dr. Goodall’s message, but pushed the envelope much further – from a terrestrial boundary to the boundless. Yes, I’m referring to the Universe. And yes, I acknowledge the possibility that the Universe might be bounded. But for purposes of this discussion, I’m not delving into spatial expansion or contraction under Big Bang Theory, Inflationary Cosmology or any other model – let’s just say that from a practical perspective, the Cosmos may as well be infinite.

While I continue to take responsibility for my actions, and will do my utmost to launch the maximum positive ripples into this linked firmament of earthbound life, i.e., the George Bailey effect, part of me was distracted from Dr. Goodall’s worthy admonitions. Maybe it’s the generational difference or that Africa is less of the “undiscovered country” these days, but I have always been enthralled by the stars. Perhaps, it was too many episodes of Star Trek, an excess of science fiction novels and movies, or an innate awareness that simply gazing into the night sky stirs my thoughts to realms of wonder. Regardless of the source of my fascination, my instincts are irrepressible. Thus, as I sat listening to Dr. Goodall, my mind argued the pros and cons for humanity’s extraterrestrial ambitions.

The need is paramount for us to establish multiple fountainheads in Space. The very survival of the human species demands this result – a manifest destiny. My mother always told me not to put my eggs in one basket. It was a lesson I took to heart. So too, must humanity. Will it be a rogue meteor strike, an unstoppable Andromeda Strain, environmental toxins, cataclysmic climate change, nuclear annihilation, a gamma ray burst, or simply death by a thousand cuts as we careen into the unyielding barrier of our little fish bowl? I don’t have the answer. These events may not happen in this lifetime, or even a hundred lifetimes. I’m not a doomer – it’s a basic probability calculation of time and odds. As a realist, I see the need to diversify our portfolio… to increase our chances of Universal sustainability. So, whether it’s a moonbase, a fleet of city-size starships, another planet, a separate dimension, a deviant time-scape or an alternate universe – our race must formulate strategic plans and allocate resources now. And yet, beyond raw survival, there is a less quantifiable reason that I’m shooting-for-the-moon. 

Historians now recognize that apart from raiding voyages to Britain, and settlements in Greenland, the Medieval Vikings established a presence in the New World (Newfoundland circa 1000) far earlier than Christopher Columbus. They journeyed over perilous seas to strange lands and unknown destinies. What spirit drove them to such extremes? Surely not everyone wished for an express Valkyrian escort into Valhalla? Perhaps more intrinsic urges held sway. There were vast resources, territories where families could thrive, and freedom – an awakened Soul-searing, Fate-be-damned FREEDOM.

 In the realm of legend, these Norsemen (men and women) are larger than life, as were their Gods. The Mighty Thor battled endlessly with the Frost Jotnar and other giant creatures. Their heroes like Beowulf and Siegfried had the strength of ten men and single-handedly destroyed monsters of epic scale. This perception of robust and virile peoples continues in several related mythologies. An apt example from the Celtic mythos is the tale of the Irish hero Oisin (Fin McCool’s son) and the fabled land of Tir na nog. Niamh of the Golden Hair guides Oisin to this faerie kingdom beyond the western horizon. He rides with her across the ocean on a magic horse. Once there, he resides for a brief time with Niamh, but longing for home, he departs on her steed with a warning not to let his feet touch the ground. When he regains the shores of Eire, he is bewildered to find that the primeval forests have been transformed into tame pastures. Asking after the fortunes of his family – the Fianna – he is told they are the stuff of legend and three hundred years have passed while he visited with Niamh. He encounters a group of Irishmen, whom he thinks are boys by their small stature and inability to move a boulder. He offers to help, and mindful of Niamh’s caution, he leans over in the saddle and uses one hand to fling the boulder aside. Unfortunately for him, the girth breaks and he falls to the ground. In seconds, old age catches him.

This Oisin tale is a fascinating transition from the legends of old to the beginning of the modern period. Why are the modern peoples portrayed as shrunken and weak? Could this unflattering physical depiction in mythology reflect a decline of the human spirit? Or is the answer something more scientific such as that the Norse/Celtic genetic lineage was forged from closer ties with that of our Ice Age Cro-Magnon ancestors? Well, I have two responses for you to ponder. In the first instance, there may indeed be more powerful physical features that flourished in a Darwinian lottery. Humans were massive and stronger because that’s representative of those that endured to successfully reproduce. The very actions of a questing life, exploring uncharted oceans and lands, and waging a contest with all that Mother Nature had to offer may have spawned “legendary” human biological characteristics. However, equally relevant is the “joie de vivre”… the spiritual energy that fed the “liberated being” of those early humans and inspired them to deeds seemingly beyond mere mortals. 

While sipping a fresh blend of coffee with a wonderful friend, we had the debate. He posed the question of whether that yearning for discovery within humanity is a fatal flaw – an anachronistic leftover of genetic recombination after a dark prehistory. As a self-proclaimed proud and hardy scion of peasant stock from the Old Country, he would rather spend his years on a hundred acre farm savoring good food, loving his family and laughing with friends. I admit to the allure of this vision. But looking within, I must also face the reality that for me there may be no such rest without a little voice whispering in my ear… that undeniable twitching of the psyche that wants to know what’s behind Door Number Two even if it means losing everything. I cannot say whether this restless trait is our saving grace or our undoing. But I informed my friend that if I could seize the opportunity, I would take my family to the stars. Like the early pioneers, we would forge a new life. In part, I think the days of his halcyon retirement scenario are dwindling. Assuming the requisite level of prosperity, he can still do so in this lifetime – but what of his children, his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren? This world on which we live is shrinking, just like the image of civilized man in the legends. No, the Earth is not contracting, other than a minor tectonic plate shift now and again. I’m speaking metaphorically about “freedom.” Population continues to explode across the globe, resources remain finite, and the Hobbesian compact of civilization that was made long ago is tightening with chain-like strength around our bulging necks.

I’m too young to have any memory of the Apollo moon missions. But you can feel the excitement even from the news reels. The average Joe on the street was enthralled by Space exploration. Dinner conversations had more than their share of prognostications on aliens, other worlds and future technological innovation. It was a time when anything seemed possible and when the “best” in us rose to the forefront. A generation of children grew up wanting to be astronauts and scientists. Can you say the same today? Let me clarify that I have no problem with humans in other careers, but if the Sirens of the digital age lure our brightest into a Lotus Eater sleep of the living dead – well, you can understand my concern. As I write, NASA has been essentially cancelled, and society’s “bread and circus” atmosphere is overwhelming. Even with my own children, I don’t merely fight, I wage WAR every single day to limit the video games, the meaningless TV dribble, the consumerism, the media brainwashing, the presence of impure foods (GMO, sugar, syrups, chemicals, contaminants) and most importantly, the dulling effects of an educational system that dims the light in their eyes. We desperately need critical thinkers, innovators and dreamers.

There were some readers who viewed me as anti-technology after my recent science fiction spin piece “Regards to the Father of Aviation.” However, don’t sign me up for the Amish just yet, and that lost Amazon tribe will have to subsist without one more mouth to feed. What I was arguing for therein, was fundamental liberty – the right to be free from encroachment and to follow the dictates of the Soul. Try to name one creature that has improved for having been tamed, that has not been tragically lessened in the transformation. A gilded cage may keep you safe and alive, but what is the measure of that existence? I’m not advocating anarchy. However, I am suggesting that we inherently need to ride the storm’s edge. It is on that threshold that our actions rise to the heights of Heaven or fall to the depths of Hell. For now, technology is a necessary partner along that continuum to help us understand the Universe, to propel human achievement and to insure our survival. But we need to evolve humanistic mechanisms alongside technical inspiration to preserve that which makes us “heroically” human. With each passing year, we are advancing our metaphysical understanding of the Cosmos. We have a lexicon of quantum particles in the Standard Model to supplement electron, proton and neutron, and we are creeping toward resolution of such mysteries as the Higgs Boson, Dark Matter, and Dark Energy. However, while acknowledging the genius of our machines, I believe our greatest advancement has been programmed within our very being. I have no doubt that one day our curiosity, perseverance and desire for inner exploration will enable human consciousness to make the leap between worlds and realities. Everything we are and experience, may have started as ONE interconnected incredibly dense singularity. Even if this proves overstated, our experiments are revealing what more of us are intuitively recognizing – there are varying levels of quantum entanglement in all matter and energy. For now, we might employ descriptive euphemisms like Einstein’s “spooky action at a distance” or endearing analogies like Schrodinger’s Cat. In the future, however, the wave-like nature of the subatomic particles that comprise the nearly empty space that we call matter might be transported to an infinite locale simply by consciousness “willing” it so. Perhaps, this type of journey is possible today in limited aspects for literally a handful of people. Admittedly, evolution may require another million years for this “breakthrough” – I like that word as it nicely captures the essence of the task. However, until such capabilities can be effectively harnessed, the imperative for more accessible human colonization beyond Earth must be embraced and actualized.

My friend from the coffee session also suggested that we might be alone in the Universe… that life might be unique to Earth. Putting religion aside, he cited the improbable chain of causation that must have occurred for life to have arisen here, and then calculated the astronomical odds of duplicating that elsewhere. Taking this supposition as true for the moment, this implies that we have a higher obligation to colonize “life” throughout the Cosmos. For such a wondrous creation as the Universe cannot have been engendered for an inanimate and meaningless death dance across infinity. However, let me shatter this premise of solitude with the same reply that I gave to my friend, “Nonsense!” I explained that when you look at the vast scope of existence, the sheer number of stars (estimated currently between ten sextillion and one septillion) that inhabit the known Universe, those incredible odds don’t seem all that compelling anymore. I then reminded my friend of a counterargument intrinsic to our world: the millimeter size Water Bear (Tardigrade). Water Bears are able to survive a wide array of brutal environments that include temperatures approaching absolute zero, a thousand times more radiation than would kill a human, the absence of water for a decade, and most relevant to this conversation: the vacuum of Interstellar Space. On this note, he relented, and qualified his statement to mean the absence of carbon-based life. In this alternate path, I maintained to my friend that even if humans are members of a vast orchestra of life spread across the Universe, we yet have qualities that argue for reserving our seat at the Galactic table: love, creativity, altruism, curiosity, compassion, and intelligence.

Humanity must arise from its slumber! Now is the time for our collective consciousness to lift its ostrich head from the illusory sands of this tipping vessel, and to focus our intentions on the expansive reality of the Universe. We are mandated to shatter the confines of our planetary lifeboat. Yes, there will be unbearable sacrifices, appalling death and strange adaptations that may fracture our species, but these will be offset by a legacy of freedom and glory that will forever rescue humanity from an epitaph of ignominy and irrelevance.

Of Troubadours, Tinkers and Troupes of Performers

In the feudal days of Medieval drudgery, when families struggled for meager subsistence, the appearance of troubadours, tinkers and troupes afforded a miraculous respite from the mud and toil. These travelers were welcomed, whether at the Manor or Commons, for even then humanity craved such food for the soul. It was a time to gather, share news, and barter… a time to laugh and dream… the essence of community. 

Today, in the face of technology’s siren and the digital waves cascading amidst the ether we inhabit, such “community” of old, so personal and alive, is of the highest relevance. This weekend, my family basked in its heartening light at the New JerseyRenaissance Faire http://www.njrenfaire.com.

Adorned in our costumes, and filled with great expectations, we were not disappointed. My daughters (seven and eleven) and wife were greeted as Ladies of the Court or Princesses for a day… they met all manner of players and participants… all races and creeds. Some rode in chariots of steel – wheel chair bound – others on steeds. Many arrived as we did, in role and ready to be swept away in the enchantment. We visited each vendor in a meandering way, and received warm tidings from folk who clearly were doing something for the love of it. Let that phrase echo in your consciousness… for the love of it... FOR THE LOVE OF IT.

The merchants neither pushed, nor set prices too dear – there were treasures freely bestowed and those worth a fair penny. The conversations were rich and resplendent in goodwill. Games for the little ones, a quest for the brave, artisans plying their trade, warriors on the prowl, musicians piping, and actors performing – we drank deeply of the “community” of it all.

The performers commandeered the crowd in the tradition of live entertainment – clever, funny, bawdy (but clean), silly, spontaneous and simply delightful. Indeed, at one venue, Merlin placed the fate of his players in the audience’s hands with a popular vote at action cusps. One poor actress was not once, but twice catapulted to her doom by our heroes.

In our wanderings, we marveled at the magical folk of thevillageofCrossford. Rarely do I relax among a crowd, and yet there was a pervasive spirit of mirth and acceptance that set my radar at ease. It was infectious in the best way. My youngest boldly stopped a bearded berserker with two swords that made Little John look like a sprout… she calmly asked this giant where the chess game would occur. Later, she was drafted with glee into that living chess merriment (as were other children). I believe she was a bishop for Morgana la Fey’s team… perhaps she will be one of King Arthur’s opposing pieces next week. It doesn’t matter, for as she’s learning, evil is mostly in the eye of the beholder. Let what you carry in your heart define your world. Of course, there was a moment’s hesitation stumbling upon that fellow in the horned helmet, black leather armor array with many sharp things (say that ten times fast)… it seemed I was paying my regards to Frazetta’s Death Dealer in the flesh… but even he gave fair greeting to my girls, and was in return met by shy smiles. In my eldest’s face, I saw a dawning appreciation of the effort that it must have taken to assemble that fearsome guise.

Having attended last year’s NJ RenFaire, we knew somewhat of our fate as we embarked from our quiet home. Yet, this year’s revelry offered so much more… vendors, characters, performances, musicians, actors, jousts, archery, woodwork, glassworks, leather arts, potions, lotions, oils, clothes, fencing, antiques, bones, jewelry, flowers, flames, swordsmanship… the list is too long to do it justice. As a father, I’m obligated to enrich my children and provide guidance in this confusing world – well there’s time enough later for textbooks, computers and employment resumes – for now, let them embrace imagination and community.

I offer a rousing “HUZZAH” to the entire RenFaire tribe, with special thanks to TJ, Phil, John, Pete, Aileen, Mitch, Dan, Jim and Katie.

Breathe slowly, observe humbly, dream deeply and evolve.

W.L. Hoffman

The Soulstealer War: The First Mother’s Fire

The Soulstealer War: The Splintering Realm (pending)

http://www.SoulstealerWar.com

An Evening Sojourn in the Realm of Weir

  It’s been a while since my last posting… lot’s of things happening on the personal and work fronts. Yes, to all those asking, I am working on Book Two of The Soulstealer War. Indeed, I was recently inspired by the possibility that the “God particle” (aka the Higgs boson) had been detected at the Large Hadron Collider.

Anyway, as to the matter at hand, the attached Playbill is for a charity fundraiser ($50 per  person) this Saturday night featuring a unique theatrical translation of four scenes from Book One of The Soulstealer War. While not yet closed to new guests, any requests to attend (Princeton, NJ area) should be sent via e-mail to WLHoffman@SoulstealerWar.com. I reserve the sole right and discretion to approve attendees. Further description is as follows:

Hear ye tales of the Bard of the Realm by the fire pit, or enter the Inn of Delvin’s Landing, where fine fare of the Realm abounds and tankards of wine, mead and cider clash in cheerful toasts. Said Bard of the Realm has paid silver for a troop of performers in costume to enact scenes from the legendary epic – The Soulstealer War – as well as provide live Celtic music by Draegn. Vignettes are expected to include swordsmanship and song, among other tidings. Performers will be mingling for good company throughout the evening, as will your Bard, who invites many a traveler to seek guidance on the trade of writing, and upon the fabled denizens of Weir. All Lords and Ladies of the Realm will be gifted a signed first edition of the Bard’s work, and all are encouraged to attend in costumed attire suitable of indoors and out (Medieval/Renaissance Faire style).

Video of the performance will be uploaded afterwards.

New Fantasy and Sci-fi Author to Attend BookExpo America 2009

In these uncertain times, when digesting the daily serving of discouraging news, remember that there is no greater fountain of hope than that which lies in the deep waters of the human soul.  

Since my prior Blog entry, my author labors have consisted of marketing Book I, working on Book II, and preparing for BookExpo America 2009 (BEA). Trust me… that triumvirate speaks volumes. There are not enough hours in the day. BEA, held in New York City this week, is touted as the largest North American publishing industry event. I have an exhibit booth and will be autographing The Soulstealer War during the Sci-Fi Salute on Saturday.

While my next entry will recap tales of BEA, here’s a recent Press Release for those who aren’t familiar with either my background or the Realm of Weir.

PRINCETON, New Jersey – March 2009 – Released in January 2008, The Soulstealer War: The First Mother’s Fire, is the first book in an epic fantasy series of magic and mysticism by debut author W.L. Hoffman. Despite the risks and challenges inherent with small press/self-publishing, the novel’s critically acclaimed content has propelled Hoffman from relative obscurity to placement on Barnes & Noble’s shelves. In August 2008, due to demand, a second printing of the novel was completed in traditional offset lithography format. Ingram is the distributor. For a new author, the learning curve has been steep – and a dream come true – but one replete with trials and tribulations. There’s a story in that journey in addition to the novel’s unique fantasy vision that touches upon philosophy, the universe and true magic. The novel also features dazzling original cover art by the esteemed Boris Vallejo and Julie Bell. BookExpo America 2009 held in New York City is the next career step for Hoffman who knows that beyond talent, it takes perseverance and luck to succeed as a writer. While he hopes this opportunity will bring heightened access to readers and mainstream publishers, Hoffman is thrilled to participate in this milestone. 

“This is one of the best fantasy books… within the past couple of years.”  Roundtable Reviews

“Indeed, it is the mark of good genre fiction that it is able to transcend its foundations and shake the very rafters of existence.  Douglas Adams did it with his Hitchhiker’s Guide series, Tolkien did it with his Middle Earth, and now W. L. Hoffman has done it with the beginning of The Soulstealer War series.” Front Street Reviews

“Highly recommended for community library fantasy collections and for fantasy lovers in general…” Midwest Book Review, Small Press Bookwatch Vol. 7, No. 5

About the Book: Unemployed after graduation, Kenneth McNary seeks inspiration on the Appalachian Trail. He never suspected that it would find him first. Ken is transported to a fairytale world by a god-like sentience and is tasked with uniting its denizens for a coming war—a war with eternal consequences for every soul consumed by the Enemy. While grappling with his strange surroundings, Ken learns that humans are slaves to near-immortal beings who have lost their magic. Complicating this situation is a mysterious new race of magic wielders and the reappearance of subterranean, flesh-eating creatures long thought extinct. To survive and embrace his destiny in a land hostile to humanity, Ken must discover the Fire within. But he faces two problems: he is a novice pitted against masters, and the magic may kill him before the masters do!

About the Author: W.L. Hoffman was born in the 1960’s in Atlantic City. Hoffman’s interest in reading fantasy and science fiction was voracious from an early age. He took advanced English curricula through high school, received his BA in English from Duke University and attended English literature classes at New College at Oxford University in England. Following his introduction to legislative drafting while serving in the Duke University student government, Hoffman obtained his JD from Cornell Law School. While there, his dreams wandered into strange realms as he quested for life’s higher meaning. Thus was born the foundation for The Soulstealer War. Ultimately, Hoffman left his law practice to pursue his writing career and currently resides in central NJ with his wife and daughters. He enjoys spending time with his family in their organic vegetable garden, exploring the Sourland Mountains, and telling tales on the front porch to the next generation of dreamers and writers.

The Soulstealer War: The First Mother’s Fire

By W.L. Hoffman, http://www.SoulstealerWar.com

ISBN-13 (Paperback): 978-1598-585-391    

Price: $14.95 – 284 Pages      

BookExpo America 2009, Booth 5049, May 29-June 1, Javits Center, NY

For more information: WLHoffman@SoulstealerWar.com

William L. Hoffman JD ’92 Creates a World

Until January 2008, William L. Hoffman had a secret. By day the in-house counsel of CityScape Capital Group, an investment banking firm he co-founded, Bill Hoffman spent his nights traveling through a realm of metaphysics and magic. There, he discovered a young law school graduate translated into an alternate dimension, a godlike race that had lost its power, an enslaved human remnant, and a new race of magical beings. Further exploration uncovered a species of subterranean creatures subsisting on human flesh and an impending war that promised to annihilate body and soul.

This vision cost Bill Hoffman four years of moonlit labor. He wrote from ten o’clock at night until three in the morning, caught up lost sleep as he could and, through the willpower characteristic of most attorneys, managed to excel at his day job, too. When he had completed the first book of his projected trilogy, The Soulstealer War, Bill Hoffman knew he was involved in something special-and committed to a journey that had just begun.

For two more years his secret remained intact. He found and jettisoned an agent, engaged the talents of legendary fantasy artists Boris Vallejo and Julie Bell, and eventually found a publisher willing to introduce a first-time novelist to a keenly competitive market. It helped that Vallejo and Bell were on board for the cover art and the typescript itself needed only routine copy-editing. The characters were fully-realized, the narrative arc complete. Publication date came; The Soulstealer War, Book One: The First Mother’s Fire, appeared; Mr. Hoffman’s secret was out; soon thereafter, the reviews came in.

Writing for Front Street Reviews, Aramintha Matthews likened Mr. Hoffman’s accomplishment in The Soulstealer War to that of J. R. R. Tolkien’s in The Lord of the Rings (http://www.frontstreetreviews.com/Soulstealer.html). More than one reviewer, including Jerry Unangst writing for Roundtable Reviews, noted, “What really sets off The Soulstealer War from other fantasy books is that it … has ideas.”

Even more persuasively, genre aficionados reviewing for major online booksellers have received The Soulstealer War with generosity and enthusiasm-and have been unanimous in awarding it five stars:
… a stellar example of sci-fi/fantasy writing. The writing is clear with great imagery and natural flow. The setting & its characters are extremely well developed, the action is fast paced and engaging, and the plot is truly compelling.

The novel is essentially a philosophy book that uses the genre of fantasy/sci-fi to present its queries, questions, thoughts and ideas.

… What is truly amazing about “The First Mother’s Fire” is that Hoffman is able to present such weighty subject matter via an epic fantasy storyline with plenty of action and pacing.

I have been reading fantasy avidly for over 30 years and this book ranks among the best for its creativity and vivid imagery.

To impress savvy readers, Bill Hoffman had to know his material and his métier. He succeeded because he is a fan and student of the genre, having read fantasy/sci-fi during law school for stress-release and enjoyment. Of his writer’s discipline, he says, “Will three or four hours’ sleep on most nights for four years catch up with me when I’m older? Yes. Is it a fair trade-off for something I wanted to do? Yes. Think of it this way: lawyers working in big corporate firms commonly log 100 hours a week. It isn’t considered a big deal. Writing The First Mother’s Fire was like that, only it was more fun and, to me, much more important.”

Not surprisingly, Bill Hoffman is still writing at night. The project now is Book Two, provisionally titled, The Splintering Realm. Planned to be completed next year, Book Two should be published in early 2010. And Book Three? “I expect it to appear in December 2012.” How can he anticipate the process years in advance? “Lawyers are trained to meet deadlines,” he says. “A court date is a fixed obligation. A brief is due when it’s due.”

Although he spends much less time in court now than formerly, Mr. Hoffman is still a working attorney engaged in the critical thinking required by legal practice. “Being a lawyer has never stopped,” he says. “It was a great advantage to me in bringing The Soulstealer War to this point.” Besides enabling him to negotiate his contracts with the publisher and illustrators, Mr. Hoffman’s legal training nurtured certain habits of mind well-adapted to constructing alternate worlds. “I learned a fantastic skill-set in law school,” he says. “As lawyers, we’re trained to look at a situation from all angles, to put ourselves on the other side of an issue. A law school education trains your mind to be open to other possibilities. It is a gateway to all opportunities, not just a law firm. It teaches a person how to look outside the box for new pathways.”

Bill Hoffman’s biggest opportunity as a fantasy/sci-fi author will come next spring at BookExpo America 2009. The event will take place at the Javits Center in New York and will feature book signings, author interviews, and discussions. “It will be the first time I really put myself in front of the whole industry,” he says. “My hope is that one of the big fantasy publishers will pick up the series.” Whether or not that happens, he is confident in his work and its story. “In The Soulstealer War, the magic is based on science,” he notes. “There is no devil, no witchcraft, no explosions on every page. The story is about the capacity of human beings to evolve mentally and spiritually to transcend the mode we’re in, of thinking our mundane reality is all there is. I believe there is much more to the universe than what we can perceive with our senses. That belief drives my writing, and The Soulstealer War explores its implications.”

Of the steady effort that has delivered great reviews and a place for his novel on the Barnes & Noble shelves, Bill Hoffman says, “I’ve learned that writing is an exercise of persistence and a personal belief in yourself. You can’t measure yourself against others.” Readers interested in more of the book’s backstory and ongoing success should visit http://www.SoulstealerWar.com.

~contributed by John A. Lauricella Special to Cornell Law School