I mean my computer was attacked by a deadly virus. I was working on an article. The screen flickered, the computer crashed. The work was lost and I couldn’t gain access to my files.
I know I’m not my computer, but a good portion of my brain resides there. The attack felt close and personal. Some “thing” entered my home, sat on my desk, destroyed something I was creating, and made it impossible for me to gain access to my property.
My son stayed up into the wee hours of the morning trying to remove this nasty thing. When I woke I continued the work. Thank god I know something about maneuvering on computers. I got the machine cleaned and working by early evening. Twenty four hours of nearly constant work I had the computer back online.
“What possesses people to write this code?” I asked Pavana, my son. “They must be really angry and hateful.”
“For some people it’s the thrill of conquering and getting notoriety for something they created.”
“Because you’re here to help me I was able to work through this. For many people they are stopped completely and have to hire someone to come in. This is more than inconvenience, it’s offensive.”
Nog walked in and invited me to see Swan Lake performed live at the Royal Ballet on YouTube. I haven’t watched a ballet since I was a child and my grandmother took me to the Nutcraker. I adored attending the performance. So much so she took me to the San Francisco ballet every year for a few years. It was my only exposure to art. But that’s not why I wanted to become a ballerina. As soon as I saw the exquisite use of the ballerina’s body I was awestruck. I wanted to have that kind of command. It seemed a tremendous vehicle for expression of fine emotions. In every way I was taken in by ballet.
Every afternoon I walked to the community center in our home development and watched the girls practice with their ballet teacher. I asked my mother several times if I could take lessons but she said we didn’t have the money. So I went and stared and wished I could be in there learning.
Of course, I remember this about my early childhood. I know I like ballet. So when Nog asked me if I wanted to see it there was no question. I had never seen Swan Lake performed. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I just kept groaning as people wrought their bodies in graceful elegant mastery and the story of beauty and black played out.
Ballet is stunning art. My heart leaps when I watch it. It is a feminine expression. Ever since watching the Nutcracker as a child I’ve wished I could live life as a ballerina. By that I mean I wish the “movements” of my life could mirror grace, elegance, touching emotional expression. I would like to choreograph the narrative and expression in such a way that elevates life. I was always a dreamer, I guess.
As I was watching the performance and swayed with the music I was thanking Tchaikovsky, fascinated by his creative genius. What music! What storyline! What choreography! This is good use of the intellect. This is worthy of my time, not the mangling attempts of a virus program writer.
Why do we use our intelligence to wreak havoc rather than create beauty?
It’s human nature. Dual nature. There’s our brilliant Self and our shadow self. And to encourage the brilliance, education and dialogue are required. It is in raising Consciousness that we create networks of people to discourage the senseless havoc, violence, and damage in our world. So much exists in nature without humans helping it along.
Whoever is the programmer’s friend, parent, significant other, child—someone around the—may take the moral high road and encourage them to rise from the twisted in a dance of contribution to the world.
We can hope. We can work for that.