Atlantis in the Wilderness


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Atlantis in the Wilderness

A Sketch

by Michael Stuart Kelly

There was once a young man full of courage and dreams who took off to find his fortunes in a foreign land. He went in search of Atlantis, but knew he would face the wilderness. He went on a ship armed with moral certainties and the conviction that he would change wherever he landed by conquering the ideological wilderness with the steadfast principles in his munitions.

He found the wilderness, but not Atlantis. He did not conquer it, either. The wilderness of reality cannot be tamed by those who do not learn its ways. Instead of becoming a master, he became the vanquished. His ship floundered and he was beaten and starved. He lost his bearing and had to learn the ways of the wild or die.

So he observed. He struggled. He learned harsh lessons about the beauty and the ugliness of people. He felt their scourge on his hide and he felt their soothing hands stroke his fevered brow. He learned about himself—that he was that way. He learned, even as he closed his eyes to it, that he was cruel and he was kind and he could not always control it. He saw his certainties fall before greater and ever greater truths about his nature.

He learned how to belong in the wilderness. He saw the beauty and the ugliness of the human spirit stand naked before him, without the veil of his morals. He saw this spirit growing wild in others and he saw its deep roots in his own heart. He had hurt himself badly by taking long—too long—to stand naked in the sunlight—to see and know who he was and what he needed. His self-imposed blindness almost killed him and he took years to recover.

But he still held onto the vision that Atlantis existed, that maybe it was not here in the wild. That maybe he had left it behind without realizing it. That all he had to do was go back to whence he came and he would find it.

So after many years, he went back, scarred and wiser, and entered the fold were the shield of his morality was the glorious garment of life. His took great delight in the immediate acceptance with which he was greeted. The acclaim was wide and far and pleased him. Indeed Atlantis did exist. As time went on, however, he began to perceive the beauty and the ugliness of the human spirit stand naked before him once again—even there in Atlantis. He saw the garment of life tossed aside at whim. He saw the shield of morality become a rack of torture. He saw that often—too often. Then he understood.

He wept bitterly. Atlantis did not really exist. The wilderness did.

People are good or bad because they choose to be that way. They choose and then they must keep choosing to stay that way. There is no fountain of the good where a drink will last a lifetime. This has been the way of mankind throughout history—ever since he evolved. This will be his way forever.

The ship armed with certainties that the young man had traveled on to the strange land was called Objectivism. He learned that his munitions of steadfast principles did not conquer the wilderness, that the wilderness changed him instead. On returning, he learned that Objectivism does not make people choose the beauty even as it covers the nakedness of their souls with a glorious garment of life. He learned that the shield of morality will not keep people from choosing the ugliness even as it holds the wilderness at bay.

But he realized that Objectivism can help people think wisely. And that is a very good thing.

"So be it," he thought.

And yet, maybe Atlantis could exist after all if he could find people to help him build it. At the very least, he could throw in his lot with those who choose the beauty, not the ugliness. Moral certainties could come after that choice was made. Then steadfast principles could be anchors for the beauty and the good. They would not be lynchpins for ugliness.

And he finally realized that we cannot use a ship of Objectivism to find Atlantis. It is a compass, not a vessel. It is a tool, not a weapon. But we can build with it. We can build beauty with it. We can build and build and build and hold up before all men what we build until we make a place of such great beauty that Atlantis shall come into being.

"Well," he thought, "That is a very, very good thing."

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And yet, maybe Atlantis could exist after all if he could find people to help him build it. At the very least, he could throw in his lot with those who choose the beauty, not the ugliness. Moral certainties could come after that choice was made. Then steadfast principles could be anchors for the beauty and the good. They would not be lynchpins for ugliness.

And he finally realized that we cannot use a ship of Objectivism to find Atlantis. It is a compass, not a vessel. It is a tool, not a weapon. But we can build with it. We can build beauty with it. We can build and build and build and hold up before all men what we build until we make a place of such great beauty that Atlantis shall come into being.

This is a wonderful piece. I really love the literary style of this. It is an autobiographical piece that is inspiring with both its beauty and its content. I am looking forward to more pieces about the adventures of my favorite renegade Objectivist.

I love you, Michael. purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Kat

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  • 2 weeks later...

Beautiful, Michael.

If we want truly to appreciate the beauty and goodness that we sometimes find, perhaps it is as well that we encounter so much ugliness and vice in the world. It can make us understand that an inner nobility, a cleanliness of mind and spirit, is not given to us, but is the result of a difficult and often painful struggle.

Barbara

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Beautiful, Michael.

If we want truly to appreciate the beauty and goodness that we sometimes find, perhaps it is as well that we encounter so much ugliness and vice in the world. It can make us understand that an inner nobility, a cleanliness of mind and spirit, is not given to us, but is the result of a difficult and often painful struggle.

Barbara

Ironically, this is very much the lesson I have learned from my time in "Atlantis" (and the post-diaspora A2). From my prankster-esque silencing of Ellen Moore, to my compulsion to keep "Atlantis" free from the "poisons" of people like David Rassmusen, to my refusal to retain "power" within A2 and be forced to provide a platform for the same ugliness, to my ultimate acceptance of the presence of the ugliness as part of world built upon liberty....

Long live "Atlantis".

RCR

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Thank you Kitten, Barbara and Christian. And thank you to all those who are silently reading the work.

This work is only a sketch. (It needs a lot more concrete scenes to be a finished work.) It will probably be a book or a screenplay when it grows up.

How this came about was that I wrote an e-mail to a friend and I felt like being a bit artistic in my language to make a point. I liked the result so much that I let the poetic spirit descend upon me and expanded it enough to put it up.

Lord knows I need to do this kind of thing more often. It makes me feel good and clean inside.

Michael

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