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Why must we foist our beliefs on others?

Let me preface this by acknowledging the hypocrisy of writing a post asking people to stop asking people to believe what they believe, but even my normally liberal, cat-friendly Facebook feed is slowly being infected by the belligerent views of the political right-wing, and I can’t stand it any longer.

I’m growing increasingly weary of hearing about the insanely fascist policies our president is signing into law, but almost more exhausted of the left’s incessant attempts to prove the right wrong at every turn. It’s like watching an exercise in futility, and it boils down to one thing: confirmation bias.

At this point, it should be clear to anyone—even living under a political rock, like myself—that Donald Trump is essentially bullet-proof. He has said and done things, both leading up to his presidency and beyond, that would have been career suicide for any other politician, and yet it serves only to bolster his popularity with his proponents. And all the while, those calling for his resignation or impeachment are being sidelined, belittled and silenced by the man himself.

… he is enabling people with deep-rooted prejudices to act out their misinformed biases and hatreds.

And under the umbrella of this dictatorial leadership, views and opinions that for decades were slowly being extinguished have been reignited, from misogyny and racism to xenophobia and sexual prejudices. It hardly seems like three years ago that gay marriage was celebrated in New Jersey for the first time in our history. The very notion of federally-funded scientific organizations are being systematically silenced is a hallmark of fascism, but the fact that there are people who believe it’s right is even more terrifying.

But by far the worst of this is not necessarily that our president is pushing right-wing and outright propagandist policies, but that he is enabling people with deep-rooted prejudices to act out their misinformed biases and hatreds. Our entire civilization, which ought to be founded on a base of acceptance and love, is now at risk.

Just today I saw a friend on Facebook like a post about a pro-life march in Washington D.C. The article claimed that our society is the most pro-life since Roe vs. Wade. The fact that this person liked the article didn’t necessarily surprise me, knowing the person for who she is, but the post comments were what got to me. People shouting for the defunding of Planned Parenthood, or that adoption is what not having an abortion looks like.

This is confirmation bias at its strongest. Because Planned Parenthood offers abortions—which is, clearly, something a lot of people think is wrong—it stands to reason that abortion is all they’re good for. As it turns out, roughly 3% of Planned Parenthood’s services are abortions. That’s right: 97% of what they do has nothing to do with ending premature lives.

Even so, considering the issue of abortion, it becomes vital to recognize the social importance of sex in the first place. Many pro-life supporters would argue that abstention is the best way to prevent unwanted pregnancies, but not only is this impractical, it outright contradicts what both physical and mental health professionals have been learning for centuries. Clearly pregnancy is a potential consequence of sex, but in today’s society the social value of sex far outweighs the reproductive value. Education and contraception play their part, but so does the opportunity to correct a mistake.

Perhaps women shouldn’t be given this opportunity. After all, if you made a mistake, surely you should be made to live with it. And while I can understand that point of view to an extent, it’s also dictatorial law at its worst: the personal beliefs of a few are deciding the fate of millions. Consider that the cabinet in power making the decisions to fund or not fund Planned Parenthood comprises entirely white men.

Herein lies the root of the problem: it is intolerably unfair for men to choose the fate of women on an issue that only affects women. This is an arena in which men, by nature, have no experience. Men cannot carry children: what right do they have to decide that women should be forced to?

I’ll give you an analogy. I once had a vegan friend over to the house. Very nice person, if very passionate about her beliefs. We were having a nice time, until we decided to order pizzas. At this point, it came to light that she didn’t want anyone to order meat or cheese on their pizzas—not just her. In other words, she wanted her beliefs to dictate the dinner choice of everyone.

Now, this was only dinner—but the concept extends to religion, to sex, to immigration—to anything you can imagine. People across the world hold, and have always held, strong beliefs about certain issues. But for thousands of years, it’s been in human nature to be unable to leave it at that: our need for self-confirmation has meant that we need to either convince everyone of our beliefs … or eradicate those who won’t be convinced. And if you think this is a modern-day problem, exposited by radical Muslim extremists, consider that a thousand years ago, the Christians of the western world were exterminating Muslims in their own homes, because they didn’t follow their beliefs.

As much as I think Richard Dawkins is a egocentric, intolerant jerk, he once made a very good point: simply because, by sheer happenstance, you were born in the western world and raised as a Christian, you believe that your interpretation of god is the only one. If you were born in India, you would have been raised Hindu, and believed in a polytheistic ideology. By deduction, therefore, god can only be as real as how you were raised … which doesn’t exactly promote the ‘truth’ of deities of any kind.

Yet people continue to believe that their god is the only one; their beliefs about abortion are the right ones; their views on animal cruelty put them above others. And this would be just fine—if they didn’t try to foist those beliefs on everyone around them. This is, perhaps, my only strong belief: that no one has the right to force their beliefs on others. That isn’t the basis of a free and tolerant society, and I have no desire to live in a society that is neither of these things.

Hate me if you like; disagree with me all you want. I don’t have to listen to you, and you don’t have to listen to me. But the moment you think that you have the right to dictate what I think is right and wrong, you’ve crossed a line. That is my belief; that is what I hold dear.

I don’t ask that you believe the same—but nor do I have to listen to you if you don’t.

How do you keep the vision alive, after so many years?

It occurred to me today that I have been running this blog here at satiswrites.com for a little over five years—my first post was published on October 5, 2011, in an effort to encourage myself to participate in NaNoWriMo that year. My first Thought of the Week post was about the children’s book The Phantom Tollbooth, and why it hasn’t been made into a live-action movie.

My first comment came from a book review page called Books and Boston, which hasn’t been updated since 2012. My first post like came later, from a blog called Storytelling Nomad, which hasn’t been updated since 2014.

Starting a blog seems easy; keeping one going is bloody difficult. There have been times when I’ve felt like giving up; times when I’ve not felt like writing. There have been great periods of time where I failed to post anything at all.

Sometimes I could barely drag myself out of bed, but I kept at it.

But ultimately I keep coming back to it. I continue to write, for better or for worse. And there are days (frequently, as it happens) when I wonder—why? Why do I do it?

This blog was created to catalogue my first attempt at a novel, The Redemption of Erâth. I started posting weekly chapters in early 2012; by the end of the book, six months later, I had a fair number of followers and likes. It seemed I was on to something. Of course, I couldn’t just post excerpts from my book; a blog has to encompass more than that, it has to convey the thoughts and emotions of the blogger.

I continued writing ‘thoughts of the week’. I started (and abandoned) many subthreads, such as The Devil’s Details and Tales of Despair. For a very long period of time, I used my blog to express my own despair and disillusionment, an outlet for my depression. I connected with the WordPress community, making (and losing) some dear friends. Many have mental health issues that far outweigh my own. I commiserated, and lost myself in the bleak numbness of depression.

But I kept on writing. Sometimes I could barely drag myself out of bed, but I kept at it. Aside from my books, I estimate I’ve written another two novels’ worth on here, about 200,000 words. It’s been one the greatest struggles of my life. Sometimes I was rewarded: twice I was nominated for WordPress’ ‘Freshly Pressed’ (now ‘Discover‘), and gained a great deal of followers because of it. Sometimes I wasn’t; I’ve spent hours on posts that didn’t garner a single like.

But there is something deeply meaningful to me in continuing to write, and to write for the people who wish to read: every one of you. I can’t know how many of you will see this post or read it in its entirety, but for everyone who does I want to say, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I would not, could not have carried on for so long without knowing you were reading, without your support, without your likes and comments.

I feel this is reflected in my books, as well. My novels are a communication, a way of expressing the inner torment I’ve lived with most of my life. And the validation of a like, or a review, is an ultimate reward. I’ve written three long novels now, and have four more planned. With the pace I’ve managed so far, I’ll release the final book in the Redemption of Erâth series sometime in 2023. That’s a long time from now.

How do I keep the vision alive? How do I remember what I started for, and what compels me to continue? I’m not sure if I know the answer. I’m not famous; I’m not rich. I’m not renowned for my fantasy or my writing. But I have three books’ proof that the impossible is possible, and I still have, burning in my mind, the one scene that culminates the entirety of the Redemption of Erâth series. I know how it ends, and I want to see that end.

And I will continue. I will carry on. With any luck, I’ll still be blogging here on WordPress in six years’ time. I hope to be. Because knowing that there is even one person out there in the world who is hearing my thoughts, reading my words, and perhaps—just perhaps—deriving some meaning of their own from it, is all I could ever ask for.

Sonata Arctica: The Ninth Hour (2016)

Finnish power metallers Sonata Arctica have long been a favorite band of mine, alongside Opeth and My Dying Bride, despite having a much more upbeat (generally) sound than those other death metal bands. I’ve been listening to their music for a long time, and it’s been a wonderful journey to hear them develop from what started as essentially a Stratovarius clone into a truly unique, mature band with a sound all their own.

This is the best album Sonata Arctica have released since 2009.

My favorite album to this day is their 2009 opus The Days of Grays, which opens with a hauntingly beautiful piano intro before swelling into the dark and powerful Deathaura, a seven-minute song about being in love with a witch. The darkness of this album remains steady throughout, rarely breaking from its stride, and it was on repeat ceaselessly while I wrote the first draft of Consolation. To this day it remains the soundtrack to my first book, and I’ve been wondering when Sonata Arctica would release an album of its caliber again.

The Ninth Hour might just be that album. The Days of Grays were followed by two more albums, Stones Grow Her Name and Pariah’s Child, which, while nonetheless strong albums, failed to capture the sense of cohesiveness and flow that their 2009 album had. The Ninth Hour has no such faults: opening with the insanely catchy Closer to an Animal, the vocal melodies are at times surprising, not quite going where you might expect them to—yet always land right where they should. The second song, Life, picks up this torch and carries it even further, with its la-la-la chorus sticking in the mind from the first time it’s heard.

The album continues on from there, with an exceptionally strong middle section in the form of ‘Til Death’s Done Us Apart and Among the Shooting Stars. There are still the occasional ‘classic’ Sonata Arctica songs: Fairytale and Rise a Night thunder through at breakneck pace, although this latter song could arguably have been left off the album—it would have shortened it just slightly, and it feels a touch out of place between Among the Shooting Stars and Fly, Navigate, Communicate. The epic White Pearl Black Oceans, Pt II is a perfect penultimate song, and the closer On the Faultline (Closure to an Animal) brings back the melodies of the very first song, now slowed down to a lament.

This is the best album Sonata Arctica have released since 2009, and it is rapidly becoming a frequent player on stereo. With a bit of time, it might even become the soundtrack to the book I’m writing now, just as The Days of Grays did five years ago!