Fiddler is about crossing the line. In the musical, it’s referred to as “Tradition”. Tradition is what helps the little community of Anatevka survive. They cook, clean, sew, barter, and live life in a certain way. Why? As Tevye will freely admit, “I don’t know.” It’s tradition.

But in the musical, Tevye must consider this traditional line. As the father of five daughters, one by one the three eldest want to marry, and one by one Tevye must consider the line of tradition. How far is he willing to go? Will he step over the line? One of the most powerful scenes of any movie is the scene where his third daughter, Chava is begging him to acknowledge her marriage outside of the faith. Tevye reasons back and forth with himself, using the phrase, “…on the other hand…”

He crossed the line with his two eldest daughters. He broke from tradition. But this is too much. This line he cannot cross. The music swells and he turns his back on his daughter while shouting, “NO! There is no other hand.”

And yet at the end of the movie, we receive a hint that Tevye is willing to cross even this line for the love of his daughter.

There are a lot of lines that shouldn’t be crossed. These lines allow us to work and live in peace. But every once in a while we realize society has created a line in the sand that exists only because of tradition. As society matures, we come to understand that some lines shouldn’t exist.

Sattelite, by Rise Against, is a favorite song of late. One line states, “You have to cross the line just to remember where it lays.”

I think I’d modify that sentiment just a little. But first I want to show you one of my favorite Normal Rockwell paintings.

So here is my final thought:

Sometimes we must cross the line; not to rebel, or to make a point, but to determine for ourselves if the line should even exist in the first place.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

His smile was completely disarming–even affectionate. I didn’t know this man, but I was half tempted to shake his hand and tell him how nice it was to meet him.

“I’m doing well, how about you?”

“Doing great,” he said. “Have you done this trail before?”

Have I done this trail before. How to answer that? Should I tell him that I’d been going through some rough changes in my life? That this hike had been my escape when things got really bad? That I’d climbed to Flag Rock in the rain, in the snow, and in the middle of the night? That sometimes the only thing that cleared my head, and reminded me that I was alive, was the freezing wind turning the sweat on my beard to ice?

“Yeah. I’ve done this trail before,” I said.

Another smile. “Well then, you’ll be happy to know the north side is finally clear.”

“No more ice?” I asked. I usually came up the south side, and returned the same way. The north side was covered in slick ice, and could be treacherous.

“No more ice.” He said. It’s 95% gone. I also cleared all of the fallen trees and limbs except for one. It’s really beautiful, you should definitely go down that way.”

With a wave of his hand he was gone. The whole exchange had taken a minute.

I never caught the man’s name. From the summit, I saw him talking to another group heading up. He probably shared the same information. The same encouragement.

I walked down the north side, and it was in fact a beautiful hike. I decided I need to be more like this man whose name I never learned. I want to share information that helps people on their journey. I want to improve the trail, even if it’s only a little bit. Because every bit counts.

And when a lot of people all pitch in, even just a little, sometimes amazing things can happen.

Zombie apocalypse. You’re holed up in a cave. You have enough food for you and five other people to last through the winter. The only problem? There are twenty of you. What do you do? A “truth” would dictate that you respect all life. But these are desperate times.

Do you kill off all but five? Do you feed everybody and then all die? When you have a new context, truths that we would normally consider to be self-evident suddenly become anything but.

I ran the Snow Canyon half marathon and blogged about it here. In it I mentioned that Snow Canyon had beautiful scenery, but all I saw were the double yellow lines of the road. My mother asked me to write up an essay about the following truth:

TRUTH
Sometimes we get so caught up in the little things,
we miss the beautiful things around us.

This got me thinking about a second truth. One that applies to the same situation:

TRUTH
If you want to achieve your goal,
You can’t be distracted by shiny objects.

If I want to finish the race with a good time, I need to focus on the goal. I can come back to Snow Canyon at a later date. But also, it’s a shame to run through the beautiful Snow Canyon and only stare at the road.

One situation. Two truths. They seem to be at odds.

Let me give you one more example.

Consider the example of the oak and the reed. A harsh wind blows and blows. A mighty oak, which is rigid and strong, is blown over. The reed, on the other hand, bends with the wind and survives.

TRUTH
Sometimes it’s good to be flexible.

An example of this truth. My manuscript was complete at 80,000 words. My agent said I had to cut it down to less than 60,000. It was extremely painful to do. I cut a lot of great scenes. But in the end, by being flexible, we sold the book.

But what about this? Imagine you lived in a Small Town USA a few decades ago. A black family is moving into an all white neighborhood, and a petition is going around to keep that from happening. You don’t believe in the petition, but it’s much easier to be flexible. Otherwise, the neighbors may turn on you.

TRUTH
Sometimes being flexible is not an option.

TRUTH
Some truths are worth breaking over.

It’s important for people to stand up for what is truth. Unfortunately, we don’t have a manual of truths. We must each find our own truth, and then act accordingly.

Want to see somebody who has found a truth? Find a protester with a sign. Right or wrong (in your opinion), they’ve discovered a truth and are sharing it with others. They are standing strong for something they believe in.

One last thing. Standing firm doesn’t always appear noble to the world. Sometimes you might not know if the truth for which you stand is worth it. Sometimes when you’re broken, you feel like it’s exactly what you deserve. You just might question to your final breath whether or not you made the right choice.

I believe, that in the end, it’s all about truth. Search for truth. Find truth. And then act on it. Right or wrong, it’s the best we can do.

As soon I as I was out of the car, the voices started up in my head. You’ve probably heard them before. They whisper things like:

It’s too cold.

You’re not prepared. You don’t have the right clothing.

The snow is too deep.

It’s too far to the summit.

These voices have the most power the first thirty minutes of a hike. The voices will tell you it’s not really giving up if you’ve only just started. And since you’ve only invested a small portion of your time and energy, turning around is easy to do.

Sometimes the voices may speak truth. Perhaps you are not fully prepared. Perhaps the way is too difficult.

But mostly the voices lie. And in the first thirty minutes, you are the most vulnerable.

Once I’ve left my car far behind, and the valley is spread out in my view, I find I can talk back to the voices.

The summit is still too far.

Then I will go as far as I can.

The snow is getting deeper.

I’ve walked through worse.

You cannot do this.

Yes. I can.

If I make it past the first thirty minutes, I can usually make it to my goal. I see through the voices’ lies, I’ve invested significant time and energy, and I plow my way to the top.

I’ve discovered a similar truth in writing. When you begin a new story, the voices are quick to speak up.

These characters are bland.

The plot is thin.

You’ll never get to eighty thousand words.

Again, most of the time the voices lie. But it’s easy to stop when you’ve just begun. It’s easy to tell yourself that the story isn’t as compelling as you first thought. You haven’t invested the time, so it’s easy to close the document and move on to something else.

Don’t believe the voices.

Lower your shoulders, pick a good pace, and plunge ahead. Write the first thirty pages. Ignore the voices and just move forward. Perhaps on page thirty-one, you can start to respond to those nagging doubts.

The characters are weak.

I’m getting to know them.

You’ll never reach eighty thousand words.

Maybe not, but tonight I’ll reach three thousand.

The plot is thin.

I can do this.

Ignore the voices until you’ve written thirty pages. Invest the time and effort that your story both deserves and demands. You’ll find the next two hundred pages will very likely come.

One last thing. When hiking, I’ve found that at the base of the trail there are dozens of footsteps. The farther you go, the thinner the tracks. One by one, those who have gone before turn around and head back. Eventually, there is an exhilarating moment when you see the last set of tracks come to an end. You look to the trail ahead and see nothing but unbroken snow.

In writing, it’s not good to compare yourself to others. There are far too many variables. But sometimes I like to compare what I’m doing now with what I’ve done in the past. Maybe first the goal is to just finish a short story. Then it’s to writing something longer. Maybe you want to place in a contest, and then come in first. Then the goal may be as lofty as finishing a novel, submitting it, and getting good feedback. Then that happy day comes when you sign a contract, and see one of your books on the shelf.

If you ignore the voices, sometimes you can go farther than you ever thought possible. All you have to do is tackle the first thirty.

In my young mind I pictured the immovable object as an anvil in space. The unstoppable force as a hammer flying toward it. I went over and over the conundrum in my mind. What would happen when the two met? How could one be unstoppable, and the other immovable? It just doesn’t work! My tiny little brain couldn’t comprehend it.

And then it could. At some point I developed a solution. I came to understand that you couldn’t have both an immovable object and an unstoppable force existing at the same time.

Here is the first beautiful truth: When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, only one of them emerges with their name intact.

In college, my very first English professor announced to the class that you couldn’t make a living at creative writing. It was practical advice, stated simply. He spoke from years of experience. Here was an immovable object. A universal truth.

Only it wasn’t.

I stopped writing for ten years. I graduated with two degrees in different subjects. But somewhere deep inside, the author would not be still. He would not be silent.

And so I wrote. And wrote. And wrote some more. I experienced pain that only other artists truly understand.

I have two books in print. I have an amazing agent working with me on a third book. I do not support myself with my writing. I do not know if the force I have built up is enough to break this personal immovable object. It may not be. The professor may have been right . . . for now.

Here is the second beautiful truth: You can always try again.

When the unstoppable force is stopped, it proves nothing. There is a spark in each of us—a spark that makes us human. Sometimes that spark is buried deep. Sometimes we’re not sure it’s there at all. But it is. And that spark demands that we try again. And again. And again.

The spark does not demand that we succeed. Only that we try.

Here is the third truth: Sometimes we succeed.

And that is the most beautiful truth of all. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Piles and piles of practice and work. In the end you just might reveal the immovable object for what it is—a fraud.

We try, we try, we try again. And in the end, when the dust has settled, we will see ourselves for what we really are.

Unstoppable.

I have been running and hiking just above Fruit Heights, but decided to give Farminton Canyon a go. It’s been closed due to a mudslide across the road about a mile in. For hikers, this means we have the road all to ourselves.

Anyway, here are a few pictures from the hike.

You can see the entire set here.

Okay, only joking. But I do have some strong opinions on the subject. Stephen King says it’s the best writing on TV, and I agree.

The first episode starts out with a middle age man–Walt–recording himself on a video camera. He’s emotional, almost sobbing. He tells his family how much he loves them. He is standing in the middle of the desert, and he’s not wearing any pants.

This isn’t just a clever place to start to show. It’s the only place to start the show. Walt comes across as a man who is suffering. A man who had done something bad, but he’s done it for his family. For somebody else. You feel pity for Walt. Empathy. And that’s good, because we’re about to see what led Walt to this scene, and it’s not pretty. Walt has done some reprehensible things.

One friend on Twitter said that Breaking Bad was a show about bad people doing bad things with no consequences. I argue it’s about good people doing bad things, and the consequences come just as the do in real life–slowly. Better yet, we get to understand why these good people are doing bad things. To me, that’s just one of the things that makes the show so fascinating.

Another brilliant aspect of the show is the dynamics between Walter White, the middle age chemistry teacher, and Jessie Pinkman, the drug-dealing meth addict. We see episodes where Walt rubs off on Jessie in a positive way. He serves as a mentor of sorts, pushing Jessie to be a better person. We hold out hope that these two suffering souls can pull each other up.

But it’s not to be. There are other episodes where what Walt chooses to do is so horrible that even Jessie can’t go along with it. Roles are reversed, and Jessie becomes the conscience of the group.

The conflict and decisions throughout the show are painful and beautiful.

There is probably an entire semester’s worth of writing lessons in Breaking Bad. The characters are both complex and real. The writing and pacing is tight. And the acting is nothing short of brilliant.

I will admit, Breaking Bad may not be for everybody. It peels back the layers of human nature, and takes a stark look at all that is bad about us. But it also takes just as bold a look at what is the best in all of us. An example of this is a scene that I can’t describe without giving it away. It’s at the end of season three, and it’s the part where Walt looks at Jessie and says, “Run.”

That scene is brilliant, and exemplifies all that is good about Breaking Bad.

I don’t expect a happy ending with the show. I’ll be disappointed if we get one. Breaking Bad is about choices and consequences. It’s reminder of the very short distance between good and evil. A few wrong choices, a few bad actions, and we too can break bad. We’ll steer off course and cross that very fine line between human and monster.

Usually I write my New Year’s resolutions in December. I just write down the things I did the previous 12 months, and then feel pretty darn good about myself. But this year I actually have a few goals, and thought, what the heck. I’ll write them down on the blog where I can’t misplace them. This is more for me than for you, but please feel free to mock me at the end of the year when I once again ACCOMPLISH NOTHING.

Writing

I’m about 12,000 words into a speculative fiction novel called Monster. I’m having loads of fun with it. I’ve also got Almost Super 2 completely outlined. I’m going to keep working on Monster unless circumstances call for Almost Super 2 to be written first. Either way, I need to finish another book. Sometimes it seems daunting, but in 2012, I need to write more.

I thought about declaring selling Almost Super was my goal, but that goal is largely in the capable hands of my agent, Sara Crowe. So for me, I’ll stick to what I can control. And what I can control is writing.

Finally, this year I wrote a short story. It’s on a topic about which I feel very strong. I’d like to get it published sometime in 2012.

Goal: Complete a book
Goal: Get short story published 

Running

I always wondered if  running might become one of those things I do for a while, and then drop. But the more I get into it, the more I really enjoy it. I just discovered the joy of trail running, and Google maps shows me that I’ve got miles and miles of trail just begging to be discovered less than three miles from my house. Even better, there is a three mile trail that can take me from my house to those other awesome trails.

Goal: Run a 5k in under 24 minutes
Goal: Run a half marathon in under 2 hours

Neither of those times are impressive. In fact, they probably look a little pathetic. But that’s what I’m going to shoot for. I’m planning on running three half marathons this year, and then as many 5 ks as I can practically do. If any of you are running anything along the Wasatch front, let me know. It’s always fun to suffer with others.

Gardening

I’ll admit it. I can’t garden to save my life. But we have a very large garden spot, and we need to get more than just carrots and pumpkins out of it. So this year I’m hoping to have a productive garden. I’ve decided that rather than trying to produce a whole bunch of stuff that we never end up eating, I’m going to focus on a few things that we do eat. I plan on planting a huge raspberry patch, strawberries, tomatoes, and maybe some yams.

If that doesn’t work, we’re fencing the whole garden and raising hogs. Because who doesn’t want more bacon, am I right?

Goal: Have a garden that doesn’t suck.

There you have it. I’ll try to remember to check these off when/if I complete them. And if I haven’t completed them all by the end of 2012, you are free to publicly humiliate me. Also, bring me zucchini. Because I love zucchini, but can never seem to grow it.

I’ve always wanted to hike to Flag Rock above Farmington. But although Farmington has some great trails, I can’t ever seem to find any trail heads. I always feel like I’m sneaking through somebody’s backyard to get into the hills. Today, with the help of Google Maps, I found a place where I could hop a fence and get to my goal.

Here in Utah we’ve had an inversion for several days. It comes with the season. I don’t know exactly how it works, but the long and short of it is the weather causes all of the pollutants to be trapped close to the ground. It’s not fun to breathe. Today I hiked high enough to get above all the gunk. Here are a few pictures.

You can see the difference when the camera is pointed skyward.

The Flag Rock trail was a pretty good climb. I couldn’t talk any of the boys with  going with me, but perhaps now that they’ve seen the pictures they’ll come along. There’s always next week.

If you’d like to see more of the pics from the hike, you can see them here.

Lonely Boy – Black Keys

This next song has been getting a lot of radio time, but so far I haven’t grown weary of it. The song itself is upbeat, while the lyrics trend darker.

Pumped Up Kicks – Foster the People

And this song just demands that you crank up the volume, if only a little. The music video is not the official one. Somebody mashed up the song with scenes from the 1998 film, Pi. I’m still trying to figure that movie out.

Super Bon Bon – Soul Coughing

And finally, I’m really liking Neon Trees. They’ve got several songs I’ve added to my list, but for some reason, this one really does it for me.

Animal – Neon Trees