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304 pages, Hardcover
First published February 2, 2016
But I'm presumptuous enough to add a crucial ingredient that Frankl and the Pope overlooked. The need to make a story out of it all. We have a body and we have a brain. No argument there. Each is vital obviously. The body and the brain allow us to live in the physical and mental dimensions. They provide conclusive evidence in the form of sensations and ideas that yes we do indeed exist. But neither the body nor the brain—if said brain lacks a narrative mechanism—can drive the story home to us. That's where our friend in the attic comes in. Until something, the scribbler, whips our physical sensations and mental capacities into a story it won't make sense. This is clearly a process best managed in proximity to where our memories are housed, the brain. Which is why, thanks to hundreds of thousands of years of human evolution, the writer in residence resides in the brain and not elsewhere such like the pyloric sphincter or an equally intolerable place to write.The scribbler makes frequent appearances in this book, including the following tongue-in-cheek creative insight that Eisenberg claims to have had regarding the nature of ghosts.
… one of my higher grade brainstorms, or so it seemed at the time, an absolutely never before imagined thesis that goes a long way toward explaining the true nature and mission of ghosts. What if these avenging apparitions aren't the spirits of the dearly departed. What if a ghost is actually the spirit of the dearly departed's scribbler who returns to deliver payback for how we may have slighted or wrecked the departed's life story.The author encourages the reader consider their mind's scribbler with an attitude of passion, conviction, courage, curiosity, and love, even if life at times may seem to be pointless.
The point? Just as Sisyphus was sentenced to pushing a rock up hill, we are sentenced to write a life story, moment to moment, day after day, from the beginning to the end, even as we struggle with inevitable stretches of tedium and suffering. The point? The story's the point. Don't you see? What you recorded in the journals. The point. The point is to keep pounding away at a satisfying story, even when conditions on the surface seems as dreary, as futile, as exhausting as pushing a rock up hill. The point is to write the best story we can. The point is to keep the story from obsessing over what's lacking, inferior or ugly in life, and instead cast our attention on the good, the true, and the beautiful, never overlooking the pain and the injustice, but confronting them. As Viktor Frankl said it isn't what you expect from life that matters—I'm looking at you Millennials—it's what life expects from you. Life expects that we give back to it. …The book ends with the following words.
Despair, disappointment, boredom, conformity, pain and hate, are no match for passion, conviction, courage, curiosity, and love. Each of us is sentenced to write a life story. Writing as well and as creatively as you can is the point.
(emphasis is mine)
We live to lure and enchant and console others.
We live to serenade our lovers.
We live to teach ourselves to speak to others.
We live to expand our world,
We live as the birds sing, as the primitive dance their rituals.