Standing Upon the Shoulders of Giants

In my life, I have had few role models. Perhaps this is because I have very high standards, or because I strive for originality rather than emulation. Either way, though I have had numerous heroes, I cannot honestly say that I ever wanted to be just like any of them. Though I have admired many, I have idolized few. And even in my idolization, I find that my true source of inspiration comes from the art, rather than its creator. While the creator is requisite, what they create is what speaks to me, reaching me, and teaching me what the person themselves could never convey. Thus, my world is a collection of inspiration which I have gathered over the years from individuals whose lives have affected me. My walls are lined with posters, my notebooks filled with quotes, my bookshelves serving as alters of information. In a way, these artforms have helped to create me, just as their creator created them, and as a result, I am the combination of every one of them.

While I was still somewhat young, I discovered Chuck Palahniuk’s explicit novel, “Choke.” Blown away by the honesty of his writing, I became enthralled with his style, his ideas, and his respective vision. I learned more from reading “Choke” and subsequent novels “Invisible Monsters” and “Rant” than I learned from any creative writing course ever. While Palahniuk’s personal life remains somewhat of a mystery to me, I am unbothered by this, as it is his creation, rather than he, the creator, who has inspired me. Palahiunk taught me to find my rhythm and trust my voice, wherever the two might take me.

Soon after, I saw the film “Adaptation,” meticulously written by Charlie Kaufman. Never before had I forgotten myself so completely inside a movie theatre. For the duration of the film, I was transfixed, not by the actors or the visuals, but by the story and dialogue, so perfectly constructed and emotionally loaded that I could not help but be amazed. Kaufman has an uncanny ability to convert his incredible ideas into filmic gold. I was inspired beyond words. His later films, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and “Synecdoche, NY,” the latter of which was his directorial debut, were similarly inspiring. Kaufman taught me to believe in my ideas, no matter how unconventional and bizarre they may be.

In my time at NYU, while studying Dramatic Writing, I discovered Salvador Dali and his creation, “The Persistence of Memory.” After being struck by the small painting at MOMA, I decided to make it the subject of a series of my writing assignments. Though I know relatively little about Dali to this day, his art became a framework by which to navigate my emotional and psychological confusion in New York City. Dali taught me accept myself, as distinct from the status quo as I may be.

Upon my escape from NYU, I began reading “The Power of Now,” by Eckhart Tolle. I was lost, emotionally and spiritually, I needed direction, inspiration, and recognition of who I had become. Though I never finished the book, I believe it served its purpose. In the first few pages, I became aware that I was not alone, and moreover, that answers are always obtainable, if one simply knows where to look. Tolle taught me about my pain-body, about the power of self-reference, and the importance of letting go of the past.

At this time, I became reacquainted with Bob Dylan, a favorite of my father’s, but never mine. Though I had grown up complaining about Dylan’s folksy whine and simple music, I experienced a reversal of taste overnight. Looking back, the first Dylan ballad I can recall loving was “Hurricane.” I researched the song and the story behind it, amazed by Dylan’s efforts to make a difference. From there I became obsessed with Dylan’s other protest music, and finally, his love songs, particularly those about Joan Baez. Though I can’t claim to agree with all of Dylan’s sentiments, particularly those denying his status as a protest singer, his musical effort to change the world impresses me to this day. Dylan taught me to speak my piece, no matter how controversial, and to stay true to myself, regardless of other’s projections.

I began studying philosophy at Santa Barbara City College the following semester, which introduced me to the writings of Frederich Nietzsche. I believe my first experience of Nietzsche occurred upon reading his musings on the death of God from his work, “The Gay Science.” Surrounded by ancient wisdom, Nietzsche’s words resonated unlike any of his philosophical peers, even Descartes, whose writings on dreams versus reality captivated me entirely. Ultimately, I began reading Nietzsche’s “Thus Spake Zarathustra,” a work that documents a spiritual quest, essentially, for enlightenment. Though Nietzsche’s enlightened one is called the Overman (or Superman, in some translations), his earthly journey toward a spiritual destination is not unlike that of the Buddha. Nietzsche taught me that I don’t need a religion to guide me, nor a God to save me; he taught me that everything I want and need is already inside me simply waiting to be found.

One day, in the SBCC bookstore, I discovered a book called “The Bridge Across Forever,” by Richard Bach. At the time, I was lonely, intellectually satiated, but still spiritually alone. From the phrase beneath the title to the story’s final words, Bach’s message touched my soul completely. Bach asks his reader if they’ve ever felt alone in a world of strangers, missing someone they’ve never met. He resurrects the concept of soulmates without relying upon cliche or Hallmark sentiment. Bach cultivates the faith in his reader that your soulmate is out there, somewhere, longing for you just as you long for them. Ever a believer in unconditional love, Bach’s true love story left me mesmerized, armed with a faith I had not found for years. Only instead of God, Bach helped to me believe in love, unadulterated and perfect, just waiting to be discovered. Most of all, Bach taught me not to abandon my search, because we all belong somewhere with someone, and someday we will find them.

As Isaac Newton suggested of himself, I find that “If I have seen farther than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants.” Though the individuals who have influenced me may appear creative rather than spiritual, for me, the two are entwined. It is at the height of my creativity that I find myself most spiritual. Creative expression reminds me of my purpose, my place in the world, and the Universe’s plan for all of us. It is when I create that I believe in synchronicity, the providential fabric that unites us all. With inspiration as my guide, and the proverbial shoulders of my heroes to stand upon, I can see farther than I ever imagined.