Current Issue: Spring 2007 (Vol I)
Switching On
Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and
go do it.
Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.
- Howard Thurman, American Theologian, 1900-1981
I had a super-charged imagination when I was young. There was some switch in my brain that allowed me to switch off the world of reality and in a flash bring to life my own whimsical fantasy land. In the time it took me to blink, playground structures would transform into intergalactic spaceship landing pads, staging areas for momentous invasions on the scale of World War II. A baseball bat, triumphantly drawn from its sheath (the storage closet), would morph into a samurai sword, wielded with the artful grace and spiritual might of an ancient warrior. A pair of crusty old wrist bands that my father wore to the local YMCA would suddenly become a full-scale replica of the suit of some invincible superhero. As an adult looking back on a different me, I can only be quietly amused—in awe of the ability I had, the ability that all children have, to take the everyday world and in an instant flip it upside down.
The fourth grade was the peak of my creative energy output, and it was then that my imagination switch was utilized most frequently. Every recess I switched into my alter ego: Xyler, captain of the Intergalactic Police Force, working for justice and peace throughout the universe. Though a hero well-known across the galaxy, Xyler always put others before himself. At all times, he wore his super space jumpsuit and sleek green helmet, welcoming any chance to dispense justice with a zap from his electromagnetic pulsar ray gun.
Xyler’s partner in the business was Metal Man, the guise of my equally imaginative friend Tom. Metal Man was a shiny and versatile robot with a warm-heart and a good conscience. His artificial intelligence programming made him naturally disposed to justice and peace, but some unfortunate error in the code caused the rather unpleasant side-effect of a dry sense of humor. Metal Man and Xyler were lifelong friends. Together they formed the best peacekeeping team in the universe.
As with all robots, Metal Man had to be powered up before he could become active. This was the ritual that always jump-started our game. Tom would line up with his back against a wall—slouched over, head drooping, eyes shut tight—and stay stiff in his unmoving lifelessness. I would rush up to him like a man on a mission, tear open an imaginary hatch in his upper right shoulder, and start flipping imaginary switches. Suddenly Metal Man would jolt to life, power and energy surging through his body. He would throw his head up and around, eyes flaring excitedly, and break free from the dark and rigid slumber of stand-by mode.
Facing our evil foe, we’d spring into action, zapping with our fingers-turned-ray- guns, and flipping theatrically behind tire swings and slides for cover from enemy fire. The fun and death-defying antics would continue until the cursed recess bell put an end to our intense battles. Immediately our fantasy world of spaceships and ray gun battles would switch to stand-by mode. With our feet momentarily planted back on planet Earth, we’d be tyrannically marched back towards the school doors. No longer in our chrome metal armor and sleek space jumpsuit, Tom and I would fall into our neat little lines like everybody else, prepared to re-enter the brick-walled school building.
But even in those peaceforce-hindering lines we’d smile. We knew that tomorrow at recess we would again switch on Xyler and Metal Man, and blast away into the distance towards the bright, beautiful stars.
* * * * * * * * * *
Tom and I were electric children. Once we flipped on the switches and came alive in our fantasy world, creative energy coursed through our minds and bodies, turning us on to the veiled wonders of life. But while our world may have been unique, we were not the only creative souls.Children in our world have a unique gift: they are naturally charged with high- voltage imaginations, and this in turn illuminates their spirits. All too often, though, this creative spirit burns out with the onset of pimples and deodorant. But that doesn’t have to be the case. An imagination instills a human being with wonder and curiosity. It powers a hunger for enlightenment, a thirst for asking seemingly unimportant questions, a drive to cover uncharted territory. It is imagination that makes us ask “why” and “what if.” These questions give life an extra spark of excitement, mystery, and personality. It is easy to see that to imagine is to come alive.
Lately I’ve been reading the works of a few classic sociological theorists, including writers Karl Marx, Emile Durkheim, and Max Weber. Interestingly enough, these writers all focus on the social ills that arise from the industrialized capitalism that dominates modern life. Though their approaches to the topic differ, they offer a strikingly common critique: human beings in modern society are held back from being illuminated and enlightened with a creative spirit. Locked in an iron cage where work is stiflingly bureaucratic and happiness is found wholly in inanimate material possessions, life becomes dulled like a light bulb that has fizzled and burnt out. We are left in darkness, feeling disenchanted, alienated, and detached.
Sadly, these observations are only too true today. Working adults switch off their imagination while sitting all day behind a desk or in front of a computer; the only switch utilized at the end of the day is the one that turns on the TV. So busy with the routines of everyday static existence, they insulate themselves from that current of amazement that makes living bright. Life becomes a habit; they cease to be shocked by the world. No wonder we hear so many stories of people breaking down and flipping out; it is because they simply failed to flip on.
Yet even in so much darkness, there is hope that we can still fight back (even if you don’t have a ray gun!). You see, it’s not so hard to find that little spark needed to recharge a passion for wonder and creativity. Imagination may be just a simple switch, but it packs a potent punch: flip it on and it completes a connection between fantasy and reality. Then everything is within your grasp. Take a walk. Look at the stars. Look at your pinky finger. And ask questions. Don’t settle for the what and the how, but hold onto that burning desire for why. Find something that will charge you and make you come alive with a passion for living. Don’t be afraid to dust off that switch you had when you were a child. Flip it on to bring the light back into life. It just might be all the world needs.
Adam Berkland is a sophomore in the school of Arts and Sciences studying political science. His research interests include the role of civic engagement to develop a more cohesive citizenry in the United States. He hopes to pursue work in political science or to enroll in law school.