Jan Luyken: Vrouw Wereld toont kinderen de brede en smalle weg
[Woman World shows children the wide and narrow road] (1699)

" … largely unexplored."

When might this NextWorld appear? From here, the answer to this question seems to depend upon what one considers a distinction between one world and a next. What change, one to another, might qualify as enough to accept it as a genuine difference? I know, this seems awfully subjective. Some people maintain stricter standards than others. It might be that those who acknowledge slight differences as constituting distinctions experience more successful lives, for they might more comfortably manage to "change the world." Those who hold the strictest standard when making such distinctions live in a world that, by self-imposed definition, must always stay the same.

But aren't some changes more obvious? Of course! And the subtler ones, those featuring little distinguishing differences, might well be the most powerful. The liberating sense some success imparts might prove to be the underlying purpose of pursuing any change. However that feeling might be achieved seems fair game. Yes, one could lie to oneself about the magnitude or importance of a shift and still harvest a benefit. It might be that all change involves some sleight-of-hand, some fooling the watchful eye. Watched pots never seem to boil, while all significant change might exclusively occur in insignificant-seeming increments.

I woke up this morning to an utterly changed world. It was my world that changed from a now past one into my own personal NextWorld. The shift occurred when I satisfied my goal of writing sixteen fresh Christmas poems before Christmas Morning. I met my objective by suppertime Christmas Eve. It took the night and an early morning re-reading for me to finally sense a distinction. Had I not spent the prior four days creating those poems, the world this morning would be lacking those poems. Better or worse for that, my world seems different. There's evidence that I was present. A fresh pile of paper clutters my desk. I declare my world different.

If you think changing the world is difficult, try to keep it the same. However routine of a rut your life's settled into, it's continually mutating on some level. The frustration you and I sometimes feel when we sense we're powerless to change our world sometimes dims our distinction-making equipment. We focus upon one element to the exclusion of the nearly infinite other edges we might attend to, or we observe through a fuzz of familiarity, too used to it to make much of any distinction. I can't claim that my new Christmas Poems will change the trajectory of English literature, but they made a difference to me. Even if they make no difference to anybody else, I contend that a difference to me amounts to difference enough. I inhabit a NextWorld this morning, one largely unexplored.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #NextWorld, #PureSchmaltz