Oracle 1 - Message 4

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From what I’ve experienced, it can often feel like the human existence is simply a matter of questioning things. Like why does our to-do-list have to be as long as it is or why we didn’t do the thing that we definitely could have done yesterday, yesterday. But I think one of the most enduring questions, whether or not we want to admit it, goes something like: When are things going to get easier? And sometimes we don’t even ask it directly. Sometimes, we just sit in anticipation of that better tomorrow, even if it’s not going to exactly be tomorrow and even if we don’t fully understand what better is going to be. 

I think there's a part of or maybe even all of human nature that is inclined to be hopeful. Which might sound childish and naive. I get it, but hear me out. Or… Well, I probably should have had my thoughts in order before I just chucked that out into the world like that. Maybe it’s naive, though, to think that hope either exists or is something that sustains us in some way. 

But we are inclined to seek necessities out, right? Call it evolution or design of some kind. Whatever it is, there’s something inevitable about this impulse. Common sense here. We have to want the things that sustain us in order to pursue them in order to simply survive. Base level stuff. And I think hope is in there, somewhere, at some base level. Which is maybe an unpopular opinion. Or one that is never thought about.

In my mind, if you pair the need with the thing it satisfies, everything makes more sense. Food is for hunger. Water is for thirst. Air for breathing. Friends for care. Family for love. And in this theory I have so hastily devised, hope is the answer to our sense of despair or of misery. It’s the answer to those bad days that bring us to our figurative or literal knees, when tears fill our eyes whether or not they escape and when we feel so lost we can’t even find our way home. Or even when it isn’t that bad. 

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Regardless of the severity, hope is the act of casting our eyes in some sort of direction and believing, so earnestly, that something else is going to come over that horizon. That everything is going to get better. In time. 

Because terrible things, up to a certain extent are, of course, inevitable. There will be bad days, opportunities that don’t pan out, some that do when they really shouldn’t, and mishaps that happen. But life isn’t a series of terrible things alone. That part will bow down to a beautiful new day. And sometimes all we can do is keep a vigil for that tomorrow. Waiting for that day to come.

To a great extent, wanting things to get easier or expecting them to be at a certain point is a part of that. Easier, in our minds, is better. Easier means better is a few specific ways, but still, there’s an overlap in that meaning. We want our workload to be lighter. Bearable. Anything would be better than what it is right now. Especially for you. But I can’t give you… that. That assurance or that guide or a key that slides into the lock that holds the one door that keeps you separated from the result you’re after. I know you need it. Believe me, this isn’t from lack of trying on my part. But once again, it’s a matter of what is and is not possible. 

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The podcast idea came to me as a sort of last ditch effort, a perfect storm sort of situation. But maybe it should have been obvious. After all, podcasting is super trendy. There’s a whole untapped market for these things, or that’s what I was hearing from my boss who really wanted to have some sort of podcast for the office. (Sigh) I--I promise it makes sense if you know where I work, which you do--recipient of this message--but the rest of the world does not and need not know. So there’s that. 

And by that, I mean something that fell onto my desk. I had some stage experience, particularly with sound stuff, and I was the only one in the office who had anything close. So even though my skill set wasn’t a perfect match, there’s plenty of tutorials out there, and I’ve got hours on the clock that could be spent with those tutorials. Two plus two equals four, as it were. And I didn’t push back. I probably could have because that office would likely fall apart without me and everyone knows as much, so leverage, but I was too tired for fighting back or for much of anything. By that point, the dreams were so bad. Not sleeping is a short term solution if there ever was one. And I needed to put my mind on literally anything else in the hopes that my brain would carry it over to dreamland. 

I tried every superstition, charm, ritual, you name it, but I was always coming up short and pushing my girlfriend away. Complaining about our jobs did help in the moment because it took up space in the conversation that our fears would have otherwise commandeered, and that did, in fact, do a lot of good for us. 

My girlfriend was the one to point out that, yes, podcasting was growing, but it was a different sort of space than what had come up before, which my director did not seem to fully understand. In some ways, it was just so completely unpredictable because--quote--”it’s so niche, and specialization is king.” End quote.

I was so tired that I didn’t fully understand what she meant. So she clarified and went, “Everyone has a show for them out there, and there’s a show for everyone, right? Everyone gets to hear what they need to hear, but the message is narrowed, landing on a select set of ears. And audiences are small but devoted. And that’s not exactly what a capitalist wants.”

The capitalist comment would require me to explain my director’s personality, which I don’t want to do. But it was this idea of shows existing almost for specific people that my brain pulled out of what she was saying and held onto it.

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It was some sort of answer, albeit not a very good one by some standards. Because there was a lot of room for error on that one. And I kind of knew it.

And I don’t just mean error in terms of trying to figure out the mechanics of podcasting because that was surprisingly a bit harder than I had anticipated. Doable but I got hit with a few figurative gut punches. But in time, I actually took to it and caught my stride, for any number of reasons that my workplace both knew and didn’t know about. 

But did having that plan or being in the early stages of that plan really make things easier? Not exactly. It was nice to have direction. It was nice to have an idea. But the dreams didn’t stop. And I felt sick. I wasn’t just sick from the dreams, either. Or everything that linked back to the dreams, but at the same I did, it was-- It was complicated. I was scared. You’re scared. We’re all scared also as a part of the human condition, but you and I are specifically scared because we both know what’s going to happen if things go wrong.

Speaking doesn’t mean you’re heard, right? Pretty obvious in this day and age, but honestly, that was something I learned every time I tried to go to a party in college. (sarcastic) It was a fun time for me, let me tell you. (normal) But my subdued bitterness aside. You can only speak, but you need to be heard. And those actions aren’t automatically linked. 

You want to link them. You want to tie them together so tightly that they can never come apart, especially now that you know what it is you need to do or what you can do. But this is an example of something you can’t. One action is yours, and the other belongs to someone else entirely. And that can’t be fixed. Not at all. Certainly not easily. It’s not your action. It’s not your mistake. It’s not your sin. Can you make peace with that? I need to know before you pull me into this.

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The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right